Monthly Archives: September 2014

Chapters

OK, first I have to get this off my chest. Am I the only one stuck on the “old” posting stuff ? I don’t care if the new way is “faster”. I like the old one and I’m sticking with it. At least, as long as they will let me. I sure hope it isn’t like some forced Facebook changes.

Anyway…

I’ve hit a snag. If you’ve been paying attention to my ramblings, you know that I have outlined Scenes as opposed to Chapters. Several of the scenes have naturally fit themselves into chapters. Just looking at them, and it was obvious. One Scene jumped out as a stand-alone.

And now? This scene I just wrapped up doesn’t fit with any of the other scenes, although it is important (aren’t they all in our minds). Can I have two stand-alone scenes right next to each other?

What is your experience with this?

By the by, it is time to freshen up my blog. I have some categories to remove and what-not.

I know, my blogs are not long and rambling. Please excuse me if that offends.

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A Tragedy in Song: “Hot Nigga” by Bobby Shmurda

M.B. Watson

Screen Shot 2014-09-02 at 2.27.34 PM

About a week ago, as I enjoyed abnormally slow Starbucks Wi-Fi, two young women walked up to my friends and me. They had a question that I did not expect until after it was asked. It was a cultural question composed of so many layers that I doubt they understood. I’m sure they failed to understand ONLY through lack of trying. That one question opened my already ponderous mind to a sea of worrisome thoughts. What was this awful question?

“Hey, can you guys teach us the Shmoney dance?”

Now, before (or after) you chuckle at how ridiculous my predicament was, understand that the song “Hot Nigga” had been on my mind for awhile. Not only because of how catchy it was or how infectious the featured Schmoney dance is. See, the song had plagued my thoughts because I couldn’t help but view it differently that most of the 8,000,000+…

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A Garden Hot Dog & Dessert Party

What a fun idea!!

With The Grains

September 2014

Often mocked for its mysterious components, the hot dog is an institution even I can’t deny. Mind you, the idea of leathery dogs rolling repeatedly on a lamp-heated conveyor makes me sincrely nauseous (ie: on the verge of dry-heaving while typing), but the idea of a quality link, grilled to perfection, is garden party worthy! Thus, some good friends and I gathered in the Floral King’s garden on a summer night to celebrate the good ol’ hot dog in new ways.

Hot Dog Party TableWatermelon Salad

Friends arrived with plenty of wine, and we put them to work adding the finishing touches to the apps and sides! Bess added mint from Thommy’s garden to this watermelon, black olive and feta salad. Don’t skimp on olive quality here- good olives make all the difference! Meanwhile, other willing workers prepared the prosciutto-wrapped, melon skewers destined for the grill.

Prosciutto and melon

Thommy (ie: The Floral King) picked fresh herbs and hibiscus from…

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What’s this? A teaser?

Well, if you insist…

No, I probably should not be doing this. I do not have enough material that I can pass it around all willy nilly, but I have a friend out there who just loves reading this stuff. And I love writing it so she can..

This is a snippet of a scene that I worked on yesterday and today. It isn’t the whole scene, but I still hope you enjoy it. Of course, to add to the fun, here is a picture to brighten your day.

 

HOT-GUY-122-HHF-In-Bed

 

Soon, the two were deeply involved in planning. And as they plotted and planned, a shadowy figure latched on to the psychic energy of Helena Billings just before it winked into nothingness and her shields were fully back in place. This was the presence that Lord Milne felt, though he could not know it.

Stroking the Ocelot lounging upon the settee next to her, she smiled as the predator just rumbled in pleasure. “I have found them, my pet. And with the children, I can find the mother.”

“Why do you talk to that infernal cat, Mistress? He cannot answer. I can answer. Why not speak to me?” Peter glared at the beautiful cat, now rumbling in warning as his words changed the atmosphere of the room. Why did she prefer the cat?

“I was talking to you. Foolish boy! Why I put up with you is the better question.”

Ah! And here, he knew he had her at a disadvantage. “You put up with me because of my natural… charms. Tell me again, Mistress. Why do you want to find this woman?”

“She has something I want.”

Peter knew he was getting to close to dangerous territory, but he never had known when to stop. It maddened others, and often landed him in trouble. And still, he pushed on. “Something you want, Mistress?  Or something you want for the Crown?”

Turning to look at the boy, her breath catching in her throat at his youthful beauty, she said, “perhaps you are not so foolish after all, child.”

“Mistress, were I a fool, you would have discarded me after one night. Never suffer a fool. Is that not what you told me?” Shifting his position so that the silken sheets fell away, Peter beckoned her closer with the twitch of a finger. He might call her Mistress, but within the confines of this room, she was free of all expectations except those of a pleasure unlike any she had ever known.

Closing the connection in the scrying mirror and tossing it upon her cluttered dressing table, Lady Claire moved across the thick rug covering the stone floor of her dark bedroom to join Peter upon the silk and fur covered bed. As his skilled fingers played across the satin of her skin, all thoughts of the artifact faded.

 

Challenges

I really should have posted this sooner. I mean, we are already a whole week into September and I have yet to mention that I joined the #SeptWritingChallenge on Twitter? That’s just crazy. @BeautifulSadist. That’s me, btw.

So yes, I joined a writing challenge. To do something I swore I would never do – write a certain number of words per day. Each and every day. And so far, I’ve done really well – I have written over 500 words each day, except one – and I wrote none that day because I got home at 9 pm, full of good food and t-i-r-e-d to the bone. The challenge has been so fun so far! I’m interacting with people outside my comfort zone (i.e. people I haven’t known for years and years and years)… I am writing every day… and I am challenging myself to write outside my comfort zone.

If you follow this blog regularly, you’ve seen a snippet or two of my writing and you’re family with my writing style. For the most recent scene completed, I ended up writing it twice. Once in my usual manner, then a second time in a less “prosy” voice. Let me show you…

Here, I have an excerpt from the original scene. The first two paragraphs, in fact:

Helena Marie Billings stifled the scream threatening its way up her throat. She was angry; livid, perhaps. As far as she was concerned, Adolphus Milne had crossed the line. He had long been a supportive figure in their lives – there to help them through the death of her father, then her mother; well, she had to put that to the side for now. Nothing he had done before could make up for what he had done now.

“Enough, Lord Milne. You know that I have cherished your help these past years, but this is a decision that only I can make. The twins will be seventeen soon, and they deserve a chance at life outside this town. Not just that, but also a chance at a husband; a happy, normal life. They won’t meet the man who can give them that if they’re stuck here. If I must sell this forsaken book shop to fund that season, then I will do so. I love this store and every book within it, and I know that it is a great source of income for the future when all the girls are settled with families of their own, but I will do what I must to guarantee those futures. You had no right to stop the sale without even asking me if it was a mistake!” Anger clouded her voice, darkened the room as she momentarily lost the iron grip shielding her psychic abilities. “Somewhere in Mama’s things, I am sure to find a clue as to the identity of Father’s family. And I always find what I am looking for, as you well know. As his lifelong friend, you already know that information. Why not just tell me?”

And here, from the alternate scene, although not two paragraphs:

Helena Marie Billings stifled the scream threatening its way up her throat. She was angry; livid, even. As far as she was concerned, Lord Adolphus Milne, Uncle Al as he preferred they address him, had crossed a line that had not existed until he made the final step. He had long been a supportive figure in their lives – there to help them through the death of their parents, first her father almost a decade prior, then her mother just two summers ago; well, she just had to put that to the side and not allow it to cloud her judgment. Nothing he had done before could make up for what he had done now.

Seated behind the cluttered desk taking up a good portion of the office she maintained on the shop level of The Book & Anchor, Helena looked around the room briefly before settling her steeled gaze upon the man lounging in a chair before her. “This is unacceptable, Uncle Al. You know that I have cherished your help these past years, but you overstep your bounds when interferring in the sale of my store. I did not come to the decision lightly, yet you act as though I have no right to that decision at all.”

“But – “

“No. The twins will be seventeen soon, and they deserve a chance at life outside this town. They deserve a chance at a husband who loves them, and understand how special they are. Frankly, Lord Milne, they deserve a chance at a normal, happy life.” Helena dropped the familiar nickname this time, knowing he would not take her serious as long as this appeared to be a conversation between uncle and niece, despite no actual blood relation.

Her words were not enough to sway Lord Milne from his path, though he knew he needed to at least appear contrite. If she sold the book shop before he could find that damnable artifact, Lord Tosca would have his head. Lost in his thoughts, it took a moment for him to realize she was still talking.

“This shop was going to be my nest egg, an income long after the girls left and started families of their own that would be more than enough to support me. But their future is more important than mine, and I will secure those futures at any cost. Damn it, Milne, you had no right to stop the sale without even asking me if it was a mistake!” Anger clouded her voice, darkened the room as she momentarily lost the iron grip shielding her psychic abilities.

“If you would but let me speak, I can explain everything, dear.” Lord Milne could not look the angry woman in the face. She crackled with an angry fire that he knew could consume them both if she let loose. Gulping, he was suddenly scared. What was he going to do?

“What is there to explain? You interfered where you had no right.”

As you can see, I still lean toward prose, but I think I broke up the sentences better. I, hopefully, did a better job at showing rather than telling.

I wanted to post a poll. I just learned I don’t know how to do that. So tell me which version you like better.

And happy #SeptWritingChallenge. Cannot wait for #NaNoWriMo