Misery

I’ve come to realize time and time again
that there are simply way too many people
too miserable for their own good
and so they spread misery like glitter
hoping it will stick, reassuring them
that they’re not alone
in the misery
that makes them sick

They blabber on about nothing
and complain about everything
under the sun, and as long as
there’s someone there to listen to them,
they’ll keep going on like an empty drum
Just drumming about, with nothing useful
to say, just drumming about
all damn day.

I wish I could tell these people,  one from the other
but on the internet, it’s quite tough to do
and so you end up learning as you go
thinking you’re trying to be helpful
only they don’t want your help
they only want you to commiserate with them
hoping it will catch you like glitter
and you’ll turn into one of them.

Baby Steps Still

Baby steps still
that’s all I’ve done so far
making these life changes ever so slowly
taking too long though, like a dying star

but it’s really why I do it
all these changes life throws at me
like the unhappiness I feel these days
doing something that used to make me so happy

like teaching others
about touch and similar things just like it
but I hate seeing the indifference
they’re only there for the hours on their transcript

that even if some of them
truly do enjoy the stuff I do
it’s too late, and it’s time to move on
do something else, like the things I really want to

like writing
and everything that comes with it
the pain, the heartache and most of all the joy –
so I might as well get on with it.

Wherever You Are

You’re having a nightmare, and have to choose between three doors. Pick one, and tell us about what you find on the other side.

If I were having a nightmare, my father, who would have turned another year older today, would be the one I’d want to see on the other side of that door. I’d open it, see him and say, Happy Birthday, Daddy. I hope you’re having a hell of a party on the other side, because you sure had a hell of one over here.  And we, the ones who are left behind, are kinda still paying for it.

It made sense now when my father told me a long time ago that he’d done the best he could to provide for us, that he’d given us the chance of an education – and that was it.  No properties to hand out, no houses to pass on.  Nothing.  Not that we were expecting any because he already told us there was nothing for him to pass on.  But he did leave us something – bridges, lots of burned bridges.

But on his birthday, if I ever found myself in that nightmare, that’s who I’d want to see – for now.  Even if it’s just to say, Happy Birthday, Daddy.  I hope you’re well, wherever you are.

Daily Prompt

Once Upon A Time

For today’s prompt, I’m supposed to write my obituary.  I think it’s rather morbid but at the same time, who else knows you better than yourself?

Still, it’s tough to ask one to write her own obituary on her own blog, WordPress!  Do you really have to remind me of my own mortality?

It’s enough that we see signs of our mortality every day, that we’re reminded we’re not long for this earth really, and so we blog about our lives, no matter how mundane the events that mark our days are.  We blog about the things we love and the people we admire and whatever else we blog about just so we leave our mark – any mark – to tell the world that once upon a time, we were here.  And once upon a time, we mattered.

And then, just like that, we were gone.

Daily Prompt

Warmup Wednesday: Superhero

thor
Write a scene or an entire story of 100 words on the nose (no more, no fewer), inspired by this photograph.

 

I know what you’re thinking. Where’s my costume? Don’t all superheroes have one?  Well, yeah. Unless they got roaring drunk after mistaking some recently dumped chick sitting on a ledge as a jumper. Afterwards, we hit it off, swapping stories about our exes over Yaëgermeiser. Then we figured, hey, why not?  She was single, and so was I. Besides, I needed a break from saving the world. Who’d expect her ex to show up at her door with roses and chocolates?  And me panicking, unable to find my costume, slipped his clothes on.  Oh, the humanity!  This is so embarassing.

[100 words]

So how’s everyone doing this week?  Me, I’m doing well, though I’m nervous about my manuscript being with Swoonreads and waiting for readers to rate it – the higher the ratings, the better its chances of getting reviewed by Swoon staff, and published by Feiwel and Friends, an imprint of Macmillan.  In the meantime, that manuscript sits there for 6 months and there’s nothing I can do but wait.  So I’m asking – if you’d like to be a beta reader for some romance novel at 86K words, please click the link and check out the final (to me) manuscript for Loving Ashe.  Rate it, be honest, and maybe it’ll make it to Swoonreads desks for publication.

Anyway, hope you all are having a wonderful week so far!

P.S. So that’s where this drabble went!  This was meant to go with a drabble challenge back in January and I guess I ended scheduling it by accident.

Hook, Line and Twitter

Me and contests should really be banned, because somehow I just can’t stop myself from joining.  Well, some of them.

You see, Wattpad_Romance is holding this writing contest called Hook, Line and Twitter and the rules are to write a really good hook for a romance story using under 140 characters.  You’re really using less than 140 characters because you also have to include @wattpad_romance and #loveshot to qualify – yes, I actually thought about that really hard and went, how the hell can I write a hook in under 124 characters?

So of course, what do I do?  I came up with a hook and tweeted it.  It didn’t even matter that I had no idea what to make of the hook to begin with.  But it sounded pretty cool…

That was the first step of the contest.  Now if your tweet gets favorited by @Wattpad_Romance, then you move on to the next step, which is to write your story – romance – with the theme, Those Blue Eyes.  Limit is 4,000 words.

So of course I write  a story to match the hook I had just come up with and now I’ve got a 3900-word short story called Her Soul Place.  Whether I stuck to the theme of Those Blue Eyes is up for huge debate – I didn’t – but it doesn’t matter. I wrote 4K words and that’s not too shabby.  Deadline for the short story to be published on Wattpad is March 10, but the story’s already up.

SOULPLACE_final2

If you’d like to read it, you can click this link or the cover above.  If you’re a Wattpad member, please vote or comment. And if you’re not, what are you waiting for? :)  I’d love to hear what you think of it.

Winners get to be included in a collection of winning stories, and I’ve already decided that if I don’t win (I didn’t really stick to the theme of “those blue eyes”, so there’s that), it ends up expanded into a novella, at least.   I’m just so excited to see two new muses come up for me – and I love how they often crop up from prompts and challenges.

 

Just Five?

A writer once said, “You are the average of the five people you spend the most time with.” If this is true, which five people would you like to spend your time with?

I haven’t been spending as much time with my prompts lately because I’ve been working on my novel more, and if it’s not my novel, it’s just writing in general, including editing.  Words seem to be my constant companion these days – words and ideas.  It makes me seem so antisocial but I can’t help it. The words just have to flow or I’ll be miserable.

But if I had to pick five people I would like to spend my time with, first, I’d like to make sure that they would actually like to spend time with me.  I mean, what if they say no?

But I do know one person I’d love to spend time with. He drives me nuts most of the time but I wouldn’t have it any other way.

 

Daily Prompt

 

“Mercy”

What question do you hate to be asked? Why?

At the moment, the question would have to be, “What made you stop eating meat?”  That’s because this coming Tuesday would mark my fourth week of going vegetarian.  

To answer that question, I’d have to give a spoiler to the book that prompted me to stop eating meat.  The book in question was “Under the Skin” (2000) by Dutch-born Michel Faber.  It’s a book that defies categorization, one that skirts science-fiction, horror and thriller genres so deftly, sucking you in so effortlessly into its intended (or un-intended) message, that by the next day, I just about threw up at the sight of my breakfast of fried rice with bits of ham.

The next day, I officially quit eating meat, and while I’m still surrounded by meat in my house (bacon, sausages, steak, roast chicken) as the other two occupants are full-fledged meat eaters and today they’re all going to join the in-laws for Chinese dim sum (hubby graciously said no for me, thank goodness), all I have to remember is one word and I remain on the meatless wagon.

Mercy.

But for me to tell you why that word of all words, you’d have to read the book yourself.

Daily Prompt

10 Minutes: An Offer I Couldn’t Refuse

Here’s the title of your post: “An Offer I Couldn’t Refuse.”

Set a timer for ten minutes, and write it. Go!


 

It’s the offer I can’t refuse,
this thing he just offered me,
“step into the time machine,” he said,
“and maybe your life will be

just the way you’d have wanted it,
if you had had the chance.
Come on in, close the door and turn the dial,
step in time with your life’s new dance –

where every decision you make is the right one,
and every wrong you’ve done is unmade.
So step into my time machine,” he said to me,
“this is no game, you’re not being played.”

And so I take a step inside and shut the door,
I turn the dial to the year I was born.
But all I want to do is see the truth,
how my parents were then, their love still un-torn.

Would things have turned out differently then
if things didn’t turn out the way they did?
Would I be the same person I am now
if they didn’t make the mistakes they did?

But we all make mistakes; we’re only human.
That’s what makes each journey so unique,
when we make it through that darkness,
when we know of each painful truth that we speak.

“Make me another offer I can’t refuse,” I tell him.
“Make it true, and not just wishful thinking.
Make it speak to my heart and not to my fancies,
life is more than just doing the right thing.

“It’s making mistakes, too, and learning from them
taking responsibility and growing up.
It’s living the life that’s worth living,
it’s making the most of what’s in my cup.”

So he shut the door and bowed his head before me,
and said, “there’s nothing then here for you,
but the life that you’ve lived, that you have accepted;
you’ve made your peace.  And that’s all that you can do.”

Requiem

What’s this world coming to?
What kind of world are we sending our children into?
When we kill indiscriminately, with no remorse, no hesitation
a life extinguished before the eyes of a nation
he was someone’s father, brother, friend, son;
only now, he’s forever gone
except for his final moments caught on film
Is there nothing left that’s good and worth believing in?

Brewed in Percolator

Of Writing Prompts & Other Musings

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