Do you ever get that peculiar feeling, like you’ve landed in the midst of a real-life Harry Potter plot?
You know, the one where your neighbour starts to seem just a tad… strange?
Continue reading 9 Signs Your Neighbor Might Be a Witch: Uncover the Magic Next Door!
I am a snob. I hate to admit it. I’m a snob.
This not the usual ‘I have better taste than they do’ or the ‘I am smarter than they are.’
No, this is much more insidious. It sneaks up on you so slowly that you don’t even know it’s happening.
What is it, you ask? Well, it goes by many names – age, experience, smart, educated. It’s the thing that let’s you say ‘I know that already.’
The key slid into the lock. Richard entered his apartment, carrying his mail and briefcase. He felt the stress leave his body as he crossed the threshold. He loved his apartment. Although it was much smaller than the house he had shared with his now ex-wife, it had a writing room. A room dedicated to the true passion of his life.
Richard entered his sanctuary carrying a letter for the wall. Another story rejected. The wallpaper glue and letter dropped from his fingers. He smelled a faint fragrance of oranges. The hairs on the back of his neck rose. “Someone’s been here,” he thought.
It certainly has been a tough 4 weeks since my last post. Those ‘count your blessings’ people – I just want to hit them.
Where to start? It started with another writing contest being finished. “How can that be tough”?” you ask. Do you have that letdown feeling after you’re done a project? I’ve always found that for me. It’s work, work, work and then nothing. It’s that time between finished and enjoy when you have lots of free time that you don’t know how to fill yet.
Continue reading Reflections
The first Christmas after Jack died, Jane drank herself into oblivion. The house was too quiet and there was nothing else to do. The sun was shining on her face when she woke up the next day. Her mouth felt like sandpaper, her head pounding and the cheery light did nothing for her mood. It had been two and a half months since Jack had succumbed to the cancer that had taken over his body.
Good morning.
Well not so good at the moment. How could a Monday morning go from typical to disastrous within the space of five minutes? People are screaming at me, pointing fingers, yelling at the security guards. Curse that faerie thief. Please don’t look at me like that. I need you to believe me.
My name is CJ and I am one of the masses who work 9 to 5, 5 days a week to enjoy two days of freedom. I trade my time for the security of having a roof over my head and food in my belly. The courage to go down the road less travelled eludes me.
OMG – it’s over. It has been three weeks since it finished and I still am recovering from the Program.
For those who don’t know, the 100-Day Program is run by The Write Practice and is designed to help people finish the first ugly draft of a novel in 100 days. Along the way, there are daily e-mails either cheering you on or giving a tidbit of advice. Links to detailed lessons are included as well as interviews with authors. It was uncanny the way some of these showed up when I truly needed them. I sometimes wondered if there was someone watching over my shoulder.