Category Archives: Learning to Write

Political Second Thoughts

 

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Daily Prompt

“Are you ready?”

“Not really?”

“Not really? We agreed to vote early, avoid the lines.”

“I’m having second thoughts.”

“Second thoughts, about voting?”

“No second thoughts about Trump. What if he wins?”

“He’ll be president.”

“Hilary’s a liar, she deleted emails and then there’s Benghazi? Think about Supreme Court nominees. How can you vote for her?”

“Well for one thing she’s not going to be investigated by the FBI and to my knowledge hasn’t groped anyone.”

“Your right! I’ll vote for Hilary. You know history is in the making, a woman president, and a man first lady.”

“Oh! You’re changing your mind? . . .  The Supreme Court? That’s some serious stuff, needing some serious thought.”

“You’re making a right about face?”

“Yes, you were going to vote for him. I can have second thoughts. ”

“Right but I had second thoughts first and now I’m voting for Hilary.”

“Well I’m voting for Trump! Any third thoughts?”

“Get in the Car.”

. . . . Seriously Just Saying

Irksome People

Daily Prompt

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     Nora sets two hot coffee containers on the reception desk then places her handbag on the swivel chair. She removes her coat walking towards the open closet door, several winter coats hang lazily on hangers inside. She buttons her Mohair wool jacket to a wooden one, to prevent it slipping to the floor, and turns to see Don, wearing a smile, wiggling out of his leather bomber.

     Nora says, “Good Morning, Don, I brought you coffee.”

     “Thanks Nora, a peace offering or you gonna start?” He reaches for a hanger and drapes his jacket on it. The heavy shoulders pull to one side and the end of the hanger pokes the forearm of the garment.

     She answers, “Peace offering, although I find it irksome and would not abuse such a beautiful article of clothing if it were mine, it’s yours and you have every right to hang it anyway you like.”

     Don’s smile broadens, “Irksome as in irk? A little word, short and to the point. Irk, produces a sharp sound with little effort if you pucker you lips together, Nora,” then his smile fads.  

. . . . Seriously Just Saying

Silent Transformation

Daily Post

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     Margaret parked her white turbo Buick, grabbed her cell pressing the microphone icon and said, “Parking outside Macy’s swimsuit entrance under a skinny oak.” She was on a mission to find a dress for her upcoming 50th High School Reunion.

     Inside, she hurried passed department windows looking at the latest fashions. However, stopped suddenly to gaze at the reflections thinking, don’t I know that person?

     She did. It was her.

     This was not the first time she failed to recognize herself.

     At the age of 68, a stranger in the mirror greeted her mornings. Oh, the face was hers; just not the twenty-five year old one she expected.

     She wondered about this silent transformation taking place. How had she become an old woman?

. . . . Seriously Just Saying

A Tiny House

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Daily Prompt

I want a Tiny House

A place to rest my weary head, be quiet as a mouse

An itsy bitsy treasure chest

With walls of solitude

Miniscule and clutter less

One pot, one coat . . . .

A best dress and pair of shoes to match the rest

Perhaps a weed-less garden

Its flowers tango to the breeze

This is what tiny means to me!

. . . .Seriously Just Saying

(I welcome any comments, especially regarding how to punctuate poetry)

My Daring Darling

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Daily Prompt

My Daring Darling

“Let’s do something daring tonight, darling. Something exciting and bold,” said Paige who sat on a stripe settee with her gloves still on. She had returned from a luncheon at the Plaza Hotel. Her white alabaster skin contrasted her ruby red lips and the black Channel suit made her appear young, very young.

“How about we fly to Paris and watch the Eiffel Tower twinkle? Jacqueline phoned and said it has stopped raining, finally.” Paige continued slipping her shoes off. “It will be fun.”

“We could, if that would make you happy. However, flying to Paris is not daring, it’s simply impulsive. Daring requires an element of courage. We don’t need courage to fly to Paris; we simply get on our private plane.” He said approaching her with two glasses of champagne.

“Well darling what would make it daring?”Her eyes flirted in thought.

“I don’t know something bold?” He hinted.

Paige allowed her jacket to fall off her shoulders, stood, took the glass from his hand, and whispered in his ear, “We could jump.”    

. . . . Seriously Just Saying

Shiver in Thought

 

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    Daily Prompt

     I shiver to think about it. The way the door slammed behind me with a hollow metal sound and the echo of heels tapping down a distant hall, surrounded by quiet, a deafening quiet.

     I pulled my coat close around me against the unknown cold, and shook, questioning why I agreed to this.  I trembled at the touch of a hand on my shoulder. My knees quivered with palsy wondering how this would end.

     I turned around jittery and he inquired, “What are we having for dinner?”

. . . . seriously just saying

Elusive

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Daily Prompt

She was better at lying now. With practice, the lies came easily, were significant only to her, and never maligned others. She did not lie in a Donald Trump way. Elusive may be a better word, leaving out created the sense of deceit. No one else seemed to notice her heart wrapped in Band-Aids.

Mundane

Key Takeaway

Give your newer sisters and brothers-in-WordPress one piece of advice based on your experiences blogging.

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Mundane

A good start?

Capture what is in your heart

But, keep it short
Simple, provoke a thought

Something different, and or new
A different view, revealed by you

A catchy title attracts too

Gives a clue
A hint of the perspective gnawing at you

 . . . . seriously just saying

Monster Come Home

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I am struggling to write. This morning I read another struggling writer’s thoughts and was inspired. I even borrow her pic. Please check out writersramblings

Monster Come Home

     Interesting? Yes! Pretty? No, was my initial reaction to the decorative item the customer ahead of me held in her hand.

     The box was unusual. A purple ceramic dragon sat on a book, whose gilded pages had been stonewashed to give the appearance of aged parchment.

“Can you come down in price? The filigree is chipped in several places.” She asked. Her voice was soft and gentle, her blunt haircut envious as she swung her head side to side.

      The cashier smiled an unfriendly smile. “What’s the color of the sticker?”

      The purple dragon glared with hatred and its blood red tongue stuck out. I anticipated the mythical creature breathing fire in her direction any minute. The reptile had a crusty head and shiny gold scales decorated its back.

      The customer raised the dragon box high to view the only flat surface a price tag might adhere, and said, “Red.”

      “Red means it has already been marked down fifty percent.”

       Putting the trinket box on the counter she responded, “Is that really the best you can do?”

       I positioned myself counter side and joined the conversation. “It’s unique, only appeals to a niche market unless something of value is inside.” The shop was one that invited patron participation, more a second hand or consignment rather than antique.

      The cashier studied the item with consideration, “No can do, that red sticker has the final say, that’s the price. Twenty-five dollars, if you want it.”

       “I’ll think about it, perhaps come back.” She returned the box to the spot in which she had found it.

        The elaborate details appeared to confine the dragon in ways I had not noticed before. Was he breaking out or settling in?

       I studied the disappointed on her face. Her eyes were hazel and when she closed them, thick black lashes sealed the lids. Opening them, she swallowed hard pressing her lips. I put my hand on her arm and said, “Why don’t you open it?”

        We have been friends since.

Gizmos & What-cha-ma-call-its

It has been a real struggle to write recently, so I have returned to a daily writing exercise. Randomly flip through the dictionary and point at a word. Once you have ten words stop. Like them or not, use as many of them in a story/paragraph.

June 25th, 2015
Interview, ban, states, disturbed, inspector, location, announced, wine, recipe, gizmo

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A Gizmo or What-ch-ma-call-it

     “Hand me that gizmo,” Rita said.

     “What gizmo?” Allen asked while tying his tie and studying Rita’s reflection in the bedroom mirror. Sunlight reflected the red highlights in her auburn hair.

     This morning he was dressing for an interview. It was his third in the hiring process. Today he would meet and chat with staff, each of whom had the ability to ban his employment. A mental picture of several inspectors carrying poster boards that read, “Go Home, We Love Fred!” disturbed him. If hired he would replace a popular boss whose subordinates had whined and complained about his firing. He need of a recipe for success, not distraction!

     Rita primped oblivious to his situation. With both hands raised above her head and holding a curling iron she stated, “You know that thing-a-ma-gig I use to curl my eye lashes.” Rita bent her neck and pointed her head to indicate a location, “That gizmo over there.”

     Allen tightened the Windsor knot at his neck and looked in the direction of her dresser. It was cluttered with; tweezers, nail clippers, buffers, files, and emery boards. Things scattered haphazardly about.

     Clueless, he responded, “Which what-ch-ma-call-it?”

     Rita sighed with annoyance. “It’s the one with loops for your fingers and a bar to you slip your lashes between. Don’t play stupid. It’s right there.”

     Allen sauntered across the room and examined the items on her bureau. He debated which one best fit her description of torture. Then as though playing Russian roulette, held it out to her and said, “You mean this doohickey?”