Man, I Love College Blogfest! + Wednesday's Written Word = Happenstance

The adorable and fun Katie over at &&Prophetic Pictures is hosting a Man! I Love College Blogfest! As stated on her blog: In the spirit of my nonfiction project, it's called the "Man, I Love College" blogfest. And, as you may have guessed, will involve either your favorite or craziest experience in college. Or it can be purely fictional. You know, whichever.

Well Wednesday is my normal day for Wednesday's Written Word and with the Blogfest I decided to just combine the two...I opted for the fictional route and well I was worried about a what word in the bowl would appear. To my consternation and happiness I give you:

Happenstance

***

Sunlight filtered through the wooden white blinds as I quietly slipped out of bed.

I could hear her breathing as I moved to find my clothes. Dark blue jeans lay across her computer desk. I found one shoe under the edge of the bed and another in the wastebasket. My t shirt was hanging from the ceiling fan, my blue button down was on the side table and my boxers were crumpled in the sheets. Carefully I collected each item and began to get dressed.

Her sandy blonde hair lay mussed against the pale blue pillow. Dark smudges lined her eyes from what I assumed was her makeup. The top sheet barely covered the clover tattoo on her shoulder.

Grinning I began to think of last night.

Spring semester had been long and arduous; a night out was what I needed and The Sidewinder was the best place in town to relax.

She had been sitting at the bar; strapless white top and black miniskirt. Her fingers tapping out the beat of a local band's first set. I watched her head sway to the music and could not help thinking how amazing she looked. The bright green clover tattoo against her tan skin had given me the confidence I needed to talk to her.

"Don't you feel lucky?" Leaning against the bar I pointed to her shoulder. She looked at me, hazel eyes twinkling and a smile spreading across dark red lips.

"Do you?" Her voice was low and husky slithering over me as I moved to the stool next to her. I could smell the tart scent of vodka and cranberry juice.

"Maybe."

"Well, they say that a four leaf clover brings you good luck; but I make my own luck." She finished her drink and stood to leave.

"How about we go somewhere and discuss what type of luck I want to make tonight?" Her fingers slid across my shoulders as she stepped behind me and towards the door. Excitement coursed through my veins as I stood up to follow her out.

Forty five minutes later we were at her apartment deciding that luck was most definitely not a lady.

Buttoning my shirt I could not help but wonder what her name was. I had not even asked. There had been barely a moment for any words once we had reached her place.

In the light of day I was able to observe the room. A stark contrast to the woman I had slept with the night before. Neatly stacked papers sat on an organized computer desk. A dark brown leather satchel hung over the desk chair.

Glancing at the open closet displayed hints of two women. On one side pressed suit shirts, pants and skirts hung color coded on the other miniskirts and tank tops fell haphazardly to the floor. Sensible flat shoes arranged in perfect order sat below the suits and heels that would make any man melt were scattered below the rest. It was a confusing sight and I wondered if perhaps she did not have some sort of fashion affliction.

Normally I would just slip out without a word, but she intrigued me. I could not help it. Moving to the desk I pulled a pen from a simple white container and grabbed a monogrammed notepad.

The initials LCS were embossed in a dark blue old style font. I chuckled.

Well at least I know her initials! Now what do you say on a note after a night like that?

I opted for my name and number with the words I'd love to hear from you again and a weak attempt at drawing a three leaf clover. I placed it on her keyboard and slipped out of the apartment.

Two weeks passed and not a single word from her.

It was day two of summer session and I had began to think I'd dreamed that night. If it weren't for a lost button on my shirt I'd believe it.

I slid into a desk three rows from the white board in Philosophy 375. The room was filling up quickly and I noticed the large number of guys in the class. A few were even having heated discussions as to who got to sit in the front. A girl came in shaking her head at the guys in the front row and wandered up the steps toward my table.

"Glad to see you aren't one of the drooling idiots." She slung her backpack under her chair and pulled out a notebook.

"Drooling...what?"

She rolled her eyes at me and was about to speak when a woman entered the room. The guys down front became quiet and quickly filled the seats. A pale pink pressed shirt clung to soft curves as she walked with a swagger in a pencil straight khaki skirt. A familiar leather satchel was placed gently on her desk.

Turning to the white board she wrote her name: Professor Lillian Standifer.

My stomach rolled and my breathing caught as she faced the class. A familiar tug of excitement ran over me only this time it was being chased by shock.

"Life is about choices. But it is also a game of chance." She stated as her eyes roamed the room.

I sucked in as all too familiar hazel eyes found mine.

"Perhaps in this class you will discover how to make your own luck." Her lips twitched as she held my gaze. My breathing slowed and a grin slid across my face. I barely heard the girl next to me groan with disgust.

Abruptly Lillian shifted and pulled out a stack of syllabus.

"Now class lets see what this summer has in store for each of you..."

***

Have a Wonderful Wednesday!

As always you can read any past entries on my Original Works Page or via the Wednesday's Written Word right sidebar menu!

Let's Talk Blogfest

Roni over at Fiction Groupie decided to host a Let's Talk BlogFest! In other words the blog should be filled with chattering bloggers all day today! I decided to do a switch type of conversation - you know where one thing is going on then the mood changes drastically hopefully leaving you perplexed and intrigued. :o)

After you have eavesdropped on the below conversation scoot over and check out all the other chatterboxes who participated...Now come on let's get talking!

***

A sound much like hooves clapping on the stone floor had me turning. My best friend Emily was barreling down the hallway.

"Andrea! Wait!"

Long black hair swung from side to side as she skidded to a stop in front of me. Her ragged breathing escaped her lips and her hand pressed against her side was trembling. The red and white cheerleader uniform was rumpled from what looked like a make out session with Bobby, her overzealous Neanderthal boyfriend.

"Are you okay? You're all pink and sweaty...please tell me you've been running and that the sweat is ONLY from running...." Leaning forward I could smell cologne. Yep, Bobby was here.

"S-s-s-sorry. Give me... a minute to breathe." She faced her shoelaces while taking slow gulps of air.

I could not help but cringe. Bobby is a tool who only dates her because of her boobs and her math scores. Seriously guys can be disgusting!

"Okay. Here's the deal.. are you ready?" Her voice no longer sounded raspy and worn out now all I could hear was high tones with a squeal dying to break through.

"Just spill it Em."

"Grady Rutledge....HAS THE HOTS FOR YOU!!!! HOLY BANANA CAKES!"

And there's the squeal. Her eyes were wide with excitement and I knew that if I just blew this off she would be crushed, but I was not sure I could handle another one of her matchmaking failures if I gave her any inclination that I would be interested.

"Em...hon...sorry but, um, Grady is not exactly the type of guy I want to date. Sorry." I tried hard to smile but really I wanted to scream.

Emily decided that when Bobby asked her out she was determined to find me a boyfriend. I had not protested too much thinking what could she possibly do. But after the fifth guy showed up at my parents unannounced and completely not my type I put my foot down. She had to run any prospect by me FIRST!

"Why not Andrea? He's adorable and captain of the basketball team. He's smart. He looks great in uniform and well, he's you know..." Her voice died down as she became extremely interested in the pleats of her skirt.

"What Em? What is he?" The books in my bag were growing heavy and I was about to be late for work.

"He's the last one Andrea. There is no one else in the school appropriate to date. If not him...then well...you're like all alone."

A laugh tried to burst through my lips as her eyes drooped in despair. She acted as though it were the end of the world.

"It's okay, Em. I promise." Tugging her ponytail I smiled. She frowned but nodded.

"I've got to get to practice...let me know if you change your mind. I have his number, address and an email so I can get him anytime any place for your inspection!"

I am not sure if she should be selling real estate or boyfriends but either way Em would be great.

"Okay. Thanks. I'll call you later."

The pity in her eyes had me holding the laughter back again. I loved Em dearly, but when it comes to guys there is no stopping her belief in status symbol and the high school perspective. There were other things my mind had been on lately and basketball captains were not it.

Every night was a challenge to sleep. My dreams were becoming unbearable. All I remembered each morning was a voice and two words.

A glance at my wrist reminded me I would be late for work if I did not leave now.

Bright sunshine warmed my face as I stepped into the parking lot. Only a few cars remained, mostly belonging to basketball players and cheerleaders. My red Mazda glinted in the sun.

Satisfaction washed over me.

I had worked all summer for that car. It wasn't new but it was mine. Smiling I stopped at the hood to pull out the keys.

"Hello."

Startled I turned towards the voice, slinging my back pack to the ground and scattering my notebooks everywhere. Immediately I bent to scoop them up. Glancing towards the sound I saw someone moving towards me.

"Sorry. I did not mean to scare you. Here let me help."

"It's fine. I don't know why I reacted so badly. I guess I was in my own little world. You know how that is, right?"

He chuckled. It was a low sound, throaty and masculine. A hint of rasp made it edgy. I looked over at the stranger helping me and almost lost my balance.

"Yeah. I understand completely being lost in your own world. I'm Saldon by the way."

He was unreal. Bent down beside me was a boy with midnight hair, olive skin and silver eyes.

Silver eyes. They almost looked translucent in the sunlight, a caged glimpse of moonlight in the middle of the day.

He grinned at me and I reached out to steady myself. Grabbing my wrist we stood up together.

"Saldon?" I whispered. Why did I have the urge to speak softly? "That's a peculiar name."

"Family name. My cousin calls me Sal. I hate that. But Saldon sounds like an industrial solvent so what do you do?" He smiled again watching my face with those eyes. Eyes that had me wanting to touch him.

I wanted to chuckle, act nonchalant but I felt frozen, terrified and excited. Why am I a little afraid of him?

"Are you okay?" He waved his hand in front of my face. "You look a little dazed. Are you okay to drive?"

Slowly I nodded my head, my feet crunching in the gravel lot as I moved towards the driver's side.

"Yes. I am fine. I just...I guess its the heat." Turning away from his face I took a deep breath. My hand was about to grasp the door handle when he opened it for me. I had not heard him move.

"I'll get that. By the way, my car -" he motioned towards an old Camaro; black and dusty sitting at the edge of the tree line. "It won't start - would you mind giving me a ride up the road?"

Hesitating I looked from the car back to his face. The silver seemed darker more of a slate gray now. I had not seen him by the car but I also had not seen him at all until he'd spoken.

"I'm not so sure...I mean I have to get to work. I'm sorry." Looking at his eyes made it hard to speak. I wanted desperately to say yes but something held me back.

"Oh. Well I see. But what if I can promise you will get to work on time?" The hesitancy in his own voice had my skin tingling.

"How? I only have like five minutes and its across town? My car does not need to go that fast - it would honestly cry." I motioned to my Mazda. Sure it was clean and all but let's face it - it's no speedster.

"Trust me." Two tiny words and my heartbeat acted erratically. I could feel the air around me closing in and my head felt light. I looked back at his eyes and found the silver had returned. My stomach rolled and my fingers flexed. The dreams...

"Why?" The word lingered between us as I stared at him. The need to know clawed at my throat and had me wanting to run.

"Because you need to see something Andrea. I promise I won't hurt you."

My breath hitched unexpectedly. My name. He'd said my name. Had I said my name before? No. Oh God, the dream...what happens in the dream?

"Why me?" My voice was low as I watched his eyes over the door frame. I could have sworn I saw pain in his eyes before he spoke.

"I have no idea." With that he closed the door and got in on the other side. "I just know it has to be you."

Turning the key I started the engine. In the distance I could see the football fields where Em was practicing and the players were warming up. The building in front of me stood tall and welcoming. I glanced at my passenger to see him watching me and a shiver danced along my skin. Fear skirted the edge of my thoughts but excitement still hovered in my mind.

"Where are we going?"

He took a deep breath and held out his hand; palm up. At first I just stared then slowly I moved my hand to his. The contact was comforting and disturbing all at once. It made him real.

"Just sit back and I'll take care of everything."

***

Have a Tantalizing Tuesday!

Monday Memos and Are You a Little Insane?

"The creative person is both more primitive and more cultivated, more destructive, a lot madder and a lot saner, than the average person."

-Frank Barron

There often are moments throughout the day where I feel a little insane. They come at various times; sometimes logically so and others a bit not. As a student it is often pressed upon us that artists are mad and in their madness they push people & the world away. That they are constantly at odds with order and the typical workings of life - therefore they create a surrealistic creation so that they do not have to accept or deny reality.

Bullocks.

Yes, we talk to ourselves.

Yes, we sometimes talk to fictional characters.

Yes, we observe the oddest things around us seeing inspiration in the oddity.

Yes, we feel things that most overlook and we attempt to recreate the feeling with our medium.

Yes, we accept that there are going to be days where we want to pull our hair out and days where utter bliss will fill us.

Yes, we do not ask the obvious questions yet we want others to.

Yes, we are possessive, we are controlling, we are determined, we are emotional and we are unique.

All perfect ingredients for a modern solitary Mad Hatter.

People forget that the Mad Hatter had the White Rabbit/March Hare, the Dormouse & of course various visitors. That he welcomed the normal and the abnormal. That he had insight and yet also was blinded by his intelligence. He asked questions and rolled the answers around his mind. He had answers and waited for questions in order to stir your thoughts. The Mad Hatter was more than silly songs and wild clothing, he had heart, passion and a mind full of imagination. Insane? That is subjective to the viewer. Solitary? No. Creative? Yes. Extraordinary? Unlike any other character before or after him.

If my creative process pushes me to learn more by asking odd questions then so be it.

If a paint color forces me to examine a landscape more closely - bring on the suitcases.

If a sentence structure keeps me up at night - thank goodness for Critique Partners.

If characters speak in my mind and I reply - I thank technology for bluetooth and the fact that most people walk around appearing to talk to no one these days as it is.

If my odd hours and weird habits (Watermelon Jolly Ranchers anyone? - Did I brush my hair today?) make my appearance frighten the neighborhood children so be it - I can be the crazy writer lady...no problem with that so long as writer is in the title.

I do not use any of these things to block out reality. In fact it is quite the opposite. My work is based on reality. No, not necessarily setting or physical character descriptions. Reality is passion - heart - pain - sorrow - loss - success - failure - denial - acceptance - danger - survival - hate - forgiveness. It is the traits that each of us possess in life. These traits are what we make of them when creating and we are blessed to work within, around and among reality. Every day we should take note from the Mad Hatter:

"If I had a world of my own, everything would be nonsense. Nothing would be what it is, because everything would be what it isn't. And contrary wise, what is, it wouldn't be. And what it wouldn't be, it would. You see?"

Yes. I see. Create. Explore. Flip the Script then flip it back! Embrace the obvious and obscure! Create nonsense out of the norm and norm out of nonsense. No matter what - CREATE! Be Mad and be proud of it!

***

A look at the blogosphere today and well...maybe we all really are a bit Mad... ;o)

• The Beatles and Horses. Do I need to say more to entice you over to Portia's Blog today?
• Talli Roland asks about...posture today...You didn't see that one coming did ya?
• Do you associate Chinese food with the fear of disappointment? No? Well maybe you should see whyJanet did?
• Have you murdered someone lately? Um..okay well Elana has! ;o)
• Morons with Gumption? Road Construction? Need I say anymore before you head over to Wendy's post?
• Are you an Airhead? Do you want to win one or three?Shannon's got the goods!
• Yesterday there was a great deal of shameless flirting going around the blogosphere...if you missed out be sure to click here for the list of entries & here for my nervous flirt'n...

Have a Memorable Monday!

Flirt Fest - Blog Fest!!!

The wonderful ladies over at Critique_This_WIP decided to host a Flirt Fest BlogFest! I loved this idea! What Southern girl doesn't love the art of flirting? *lowerslashesandgrins* So if you want to see some great flirt'n in the blogosphere be sure to check out the other entries as well!

Because I am deep within my current WIP I chose to treat this one similar to my Wednesday's Written Word projects. I asked my husband to come up with a word that he associates with flirting. I should have thought that through. He gave me: Embarrassment. After I giggled remembering him years ago I began to type.

So here you go...

***

"Hi Carson!"

The soft southern drawl had me tensing. I had not expected Anna to be here this morning. Turning towards her voice I swallowed.

"Hey Anna. I didn't know you worked Sundays." My eyes roamed the tables of books behind her in an attempt to be nonchalant before landing on her face.

My throat burned as air left my lungs.

God she's beautiful.

Dark brown hair fell over bare shoulders. A pale peach strapless dress highlighted her long neck causing my hands to sweat. Beneath the fluorescent lighting her skin appeared to softly glow. Her eyes, always gentle, were deep violet. I had thought them blue the first time we met but then I realized they were the color of amethyst - a dark purple core with violet edges. Her soft round cheeks were always flushed and her lips were in a perpetual smile.

"I don't. I am actually here just for me." She held up four books before setting them on the table beside us. "What about you? I did not know you came here seven days a week, should we put you a bedroom in the back?"

Chuckling I shook my head. "Well, I had considered applying for the position of office manager; requesting a salary of books and an in store apartment."

"I'd definitely work Sundays if you did that, Carson." Her tone dropped and she shifted closer to me.

Heat crawled up my neck. We had always talked whenever I visited the store, but it had been about books and life. Of course I thought she was sweet, smart, gorgeous... and way out of my league.

All of a sudden I noticed the music overhead beginning to close in on me while she stared, waiting.

I wonder why she isn't still talking? Did she really just hit on me??

Raising an eyebrow she held the gaze a moment longer then began to pick up her books; a frown on her lips. I don't think I have ever seen her sad.

Where is she going? I wonder...oh. my. god. Have I said anything back to her yet?

Nope. Its been like three minutes.

"Well it was good seeing you Carson." Shaking her head she moved to walk away.

No! Wait!

"Anna, sorry. Um, I just...you know...you would?" My hands fidgeted against my sides, pulling at the pockets on my shorts. I have never had this kind of trouble talking to a woman. Ever. What is wrong with me?

"Would what, dar'ln?" Propping her books on her hip violet eyes bore into me. Her lips began to twitch as though she were trying not to laugh.

Great. She thinks I am a blithering idiot. Is she really going to have me repeat what she said?

Her face told me that she was.

"You would work every day, I mean Sunday, if I um, you know, lived here or shopped here everyday. Well, I already shop here everyday. But I mean half the time its so I can talk to you. You always look beautiful and there's that perfume you wear. Smells like cotton candy in the summer. But I do enjoy the books also..."

I honestly believe that there should be holes that follow us around, ready at a moments notice to suck us in and remove us from our misery.

Her eyes lit up as my rambling died down. An echo of humiliation reverberated in my head blanketing any sound of overhead music.

I could crawl under the table and die a very pitiful guy now.

Did I really just tell her that I come here so I can talk to her? Yep.

Did I really just tell her she smells like cotton candy in the summer? Yep.

Well at least I did mention books? Yep. Congratulations you are a Babbling Moron!

Masochism is not normally something I indulge in. Hives were popping up on my wrists. Yep, a panic attack is all I need to make this Sunday morning even more memorable.

"Carson. How come you never ask me out?" She took a few steps forward stopping inches from me. My stomach turns and I am dying to scratch the hives.

She has to tilt her head to look directly at me. I had never noticed how much taller I was than her or the freckles that run across her nose.

Even though I wanted to dive into the ground or at least roll around in cortisone cream my gaze was locked on hers. Her lips tilted forming the smallest pout and her lashes seemed to grow right before my eyes. A long stray hair lay against her left cheek almost touching the corner of her eye.

My fingers were fidgeting again. Only this time my right hand moved towards her.

What are you doing? No. Don't touch her.

My hand was at her cheek, hovering so close.

Don't do it...don't...yeah maybe you can get a trophy for being such a moron.

My fingers slid against her skin; the warmth of her body startled me as I moved the hair back. Gently I tucked it behind her ear. Her eyes softened and her lashes fluttered, butterfly wings held nothing on lashes like hers.

Ah well. At least she did not jump when you touched her. That's good. Right?

"Carson?"

I put my hand back at my side. "Yeah."

"What do you think about Italy?"

Did she just ask me about Italy?

"Um, as a country, I am sure its phenomenal. The history of course is mind boggling. Um, they uh, speak Italian there..."

Yep - too bad you can't somehow be teleported there after such a dumb statement. You are a history professor with an expansive vocabulary and you summed up Italy with mind boggling history and that they speak Italian? It is amazing you can walk without falling down all the time.

She laughed. Hard. The light caught her eyes and the amount of amusement was gut wrenching. Her free hand covered her mouth and for a moment I truly did want to die. Right then, right there on the dark blue carpet in the bookstore. The song over my head lamenting my humiliation with its horrible tune.

That's it. You are done for. You just became bookstore gossip and a failure at being remotely interesting for the opposite sex. Pack up your bags moron and lets head over to crazy town.

After what seemed like hours she cleared her throat.

"Yes - they do speak Italian. What about the food? Do you like pasta?"

Does she cook? I mean its okay if she doesn't but is she trying to say she can cook pasta or is she Italian? Of course she isn't Italian. Though she could be. Maybe. Wait, didn't she ask a question? Oh yeah..

"I love pasta."

Why love? I mean pasta's good but do I love it? Sometimes. I loved how she laughed. It was deep and rich, not some silly giggle. She's watching me again. There wasn't another question, was there?

"Okay...well there's a great restaurant down by the lake; Petrocinni's. It is wonderful! Have you been there?"

Her grin widens as I shake my head. "No. But I'll be sure to give it a try."

Chuckling she moves to my side slipping her hand through the crook of my arm. Immediately my body responds; electricity dances atop my skin. For a second I worry the hives will worsen but all I can feel is excitement from her touch.

"How about we go there tonight? After we buy our books." She begins to steer me towards the history section knowing it is where I normally camp out.

"Dinner? Tonight? Us?" It is difficult to process words right now as her invitation travels the channels of my brain.

"Yes. Though maybe we should grab a book on Italy. You know just to learn some interesting tidbits." A quick look at her profile and I see her try to disguise her amusement.

Oh my god is she making fun of me?

Well would it really be a shock after today's display? You're a professor for gosh sakes who can't even carry on a simple conversation!

Glancing down I see her smiling at me; her eyes twinkling between jet black lashes. She squeezes my arm a bit tighter as we walk side by side.

She is so beautiful. I can't believe she just asked me out! She asked me!

Maybe being a blithering moron isn't so bad after all....

Who knew?

***

Have a Sensational Sunday!

Wednesday's Written Word: Reminiscence

The television flickers in the background,

He puts the bowl on the table.

12 slips remain,

Nervously I nod,

He unfolds the crisp white paper....

Reminiscence

***

Soft chimes echo through the hallway while her feet slip along the hardwood floors. The sweet laugh escapes between her lips as she slides around a door frame; memories of skating flicker in her mind.

She steadies herself as her fingers curl around the doorknob. The mirror beside her shows a peach cheeked woman flushed with excitement. Her eyes are shining while long blonde curls fall haphazard over her shoulders.

Time has been kind to her. The soft lines along her eyes enhance the mischief conveyed in a grin and the soft sleeveless gray dress clings to curves that speak of motherhood; with a sigh she pulls open the door.

He does not speak only stares. He'd known she was the one from the moment he had met her. The day had been blistering, he'd lost his keys and she'd offered him a way home. but after the short ride she'd invited him over to visit. He had discovered sweet tea on a veranda wasn't just for the movies.

She'd made him court her. Movies with sidelong glances, dinners with talk of dreams, afternoons of picnics, evenings in the park skating during winter and weekends with friends.

Her parents had worried and his had hoped. Classes became more hectic and stress tried to break in. There had been one time where questions had risen but with work and love they had become stronger.

A spring night surrounded by friends and family had him on one knee where the words were few yet the love was overwhelming. Months later their love was shared with those who had witnessed its beginning. Their blessing was unanimous and their happiness was contagious.

Time passed.

Laughter filled hours.

In silence comfort was found.

Strength in a gentle touch.

Careers chosen.

Priorities were shifted.

He remembered the moment she had told him that their life was about to change forever. The fear that crawled up his gut threatened to ruin the announcement. It had been her smile that had chased it away. In her face he saw her faith and in his heart he had known that anything done with her was an adventure worth taking.

Falling in love all over again with her image incarnate.

Diapers.

First words.

First steps.

Dolls.

Giggles.

Dresses.

Makeup.

Fights.

Driving.

Hugs.

Tears.

Dating.

Patience.

Love.

Heartbreak.

High School.

College.

A life of changes, struggles, laughter, tears, heartache yet every day was worth repeating.

"What's wrong?" her eyebrow lifted and her dimple pierced her cheek.

He roamed her face then glancing down her figure. He shook his head at the stocking feet.

"Were you sliding in the hall?"

"What's it to you?" the indignant tone was playful as she stared back at him, her head cocked to the side.

His lips curled as he watched her.

"Nothing. I just wondered."

"Well, as much as I would love to chat. Did you um, need something?" Her stance shifted and he noticed the ripple of light cotton against her hips. All of a sudden the day's agenda did not matter.

"Matter of fact, I do." He stepped towards the door and she moved back. A confused look filled her hazel eyes.

Closing the door behind him he placed his hand on her waist and pulled her to him. She laughed at the movement; the sound abruptly cut short when she saw the fire in his eyes.

"Oh." the whisper was lost as he kissed her. Their bodies melded together, reacting to each other with a knowledge unlike any other. Desire swept between them sweet and strong; years of tasting and testing the waters filtered within their hearts.

Pulling back she smiled at him. Her fingers running through his hair lingering amongst the soft white tufts at his ears.

"Is everything okay?" A faint hint of worry laced her words.

chuckling he kissed her nose "I just forgot my keys."

"Oh and I thought it was your inability to resist my stocking feet."

Leaning back from her he slowly slid one foot then the other from his loafers.

"There is that. But really I just wanted to show you how its done!" he gently pushed her aside and headed for the hallway. His laughter floating behind him.

"Why you little - hey no fair!"

He heard her footsteps padding down the hall behind him and he grinned. Perhaps after "skating" they could go to a movie, have dinner or sip tea on the porch.

After all it was hot outside and he had forgotten his keys...

***

Have a Wonderful Wednesday!

As always, For members of the Royal Court new to my Wednesday's Written Word series please peruse the past entries under my Original Works page or via the right sidebar menu. (How it works: these are written on the spot with a time limit of 45 minutes - no word limit. Each word is drawn from a bowl where the 26 letters of the alphabet are represented by words selected by my husband. I have no idea what words are in the bowl nor which ones will be pulled out each week. I use this as a great 'interruption' from my current work in progress to keep my creative juices flowing & to not get bogged down with current major projects)

Monday Memos.... Genre, Oh yeah and a WINNER!!

"Run your fingers through my soul. For once, just once, feel exactly what I feel, believe what I believe, perceive as I perceive, look, experience, examine, and for once..just once, understand"

-anonymous

***

A children's picture book must have heart - a child is the hardest to fool.

A sci-fi demands unique places & new twists - the cultist know conformity & it has no place here.

A romance must capture desires yet to be discovered - the lover feels the passion with every page.

A memoir must speak truth with a twist of fantastic - the realist need to see reality but believe the parts beyond it as well.

A mystery must take the reader through nuances, action, discovery, confusion and revelation - the reader understands the perplexities and thrills in the chase.

A paranormal must lead the reader on a journey beyond their senses and beliefs through the looking glass and beyond the veil - they must see what could happen, want it to happen and wish that in some way it would happen in their life.

Every genre speaks its own language.

Even those that are difficult to discern from each other, they hold a uniqueness that we writers work diligently to capture.

We writers are readers too.

We understand the need to fall into a story and for a small time be lost in its magic. If we cannot lose ourselves in our own story then how can we expect our readers to do the same?

I want my soul to be in my work.

I want the reader to see as I do, yet still walk away with their own unique feelings and opinions.

I want my heart to break when the story needs it, yet still remain intact for the next project I take on.

I want my words to give life to characters only I know, yet still have my reader feel as though these characters live within them as well.

I want my heart to swell with pride as the hero/heroine fulfill their destiny, yet still I want the villain to have purpose and be strong within their cause.

So many wants, so many desires for a collection of words on paper.

How do we process all these needs? How do we continue each day pushing for something that has the ability to create such reactions?

For me...it is the quote above that creeps up on the slow, arduous work days...urging me to create something that can be shared unlike any other experience. These manuscripts, these flash fictions, these scenes, these dialogues, these words are extensions of our souls. They are the flickering light along the tunnel walls that guides us to the next turn and helps those journeying with us to not lose direction. We have no control over how often the light blinks or for how long it will burn, all we know is we must continue forward. The need to see it through is stronger than the need to turn around and run. We only hope that those walking, running, jumping, swimming and leaping with us can feel as fulfilled as we do when we reach our destination.

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Check out what is going on around the blogs today...

Shannon Messenger wants your opinion about Publishers Marketplace... Are you a member?

Elana Johnson discusses No Small Deals & Money...yeah...just those few words alone and my mind was already whirling!

Jaydee Morgan asks Do you know your characters?

Sara McClung is hosting A Very Vampire May Giveaway! items over at her blog (Psst...signed Books...Stephenie Meyer, Charlaine Harris, Anne Rice & Christopher Moore...other stuff too!)

Maggie Stiefvater has her

LAST LINGER CONTEST beginning today...it is AWESOME! The prizes are amazing... ;o) Ends 5-16-2010

La Femme Reader is hosting a great Spring Cleaning GiveAWay where you can win some awesome books!

Have you done the WRITE thing for Nashville yet? Oh My GOSH! The things that are up for grabs for a GREAT CAUSE!

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Whew! That's a lot in the blogosphere! Oh yeah! I almost forgot: there happens to have been a contest held on this blog last week... yep there sure was and well last Friday all these names were collected and placed into a hat...Would you like to see what name the hat pulled?

Well, I guess I can oblige... *wink*

Congratulations!!

*throws confetti* *dances around the room*

Thank you all for participating and I must say that I really had a blast with the author spotlight... you might see a few more in the future *grinsmischievously*

Oh yeah I am only a few followers away from 250 so ANOTHER Royal contest might be right around the corner.... ;o)

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Wishing you all a Magnificent Monday!

ROYAL COURT REMINDER & BIG NEWS FOR A GREAT FRIEND!!

Good morning members of my Royal Court!

First of all:

CONGRATULATIONS FRANKIE!!

You are amazing - I am so happy & proud of you! ;o)

CLICK HERE TO SEE WHY FRANKIE IS DOING A PERPETUAL HAPPY DANCE TODAY!!

Now: This is just a Royal Reminder!!!

LAST DAY TO ENTER MY DARK DIVINE CONTEST!!!

CLICK ON THE PHOTO ON THE RIGHT SIDEBAR

OR

Original Contest Post

You have until 11:59 PM EST tonight!

Winner will be announced on Monday May 10th!

As always, thanks for entering!

Now SHOO go over to Frankie's Blog and see what all the excitement is about...

Do the Write Thing!

"Nothing that I can do will change the structure of the universe. But maybe, by raising my voice I can help the greatest of all causes - goodwill among men and peace on earth."

-Albert Einstein

Tennessee was hit with 13 inches of rain last weekend. Now some of you might think: Okay, well that's a lot, but why such a big deal?

Well it is a big deal.

(photos are from Examiner.com - visit their site to see more)

The Cumberland River runs directly through Downtown Nashville Tennessee.

13.5 inches.

A river slowly receding.

A city drowning.

Homes destroyed.

Cars piled up along the roadways.

No power downtown.

Historic landmarks under water.

The Opryland Hotel - under water.

The Grand Ole Opry - under water - this breaks my heart!

A hydro plant flooded - drinking water could get to a severe minimum.

Lives lost - more discovered every day.

52 counties needing Federal assistance.

Yet there is hope, there are people banding together to get through this. The wonderful writing community never ceases to amaze me. Wonderful authors, agents, editors, writers, bloggers are coming together to raise money for those in need; and Nashville is in need!

Victoria Schwab , Amanda Morgan , and Myra McEntire have created a blog dedicated to bringing help to Middle Tennessee. The site is Do the Write Thing for Nashville and it is wonderful!

Guys this isn't a blog just telling you about the issues in the area - it is an auction site.

Yep you heard me, you can win something AND help out a city in need.

There are some AWESOME items: signed books, critiques, book swag!

The site went up yesterday with its first list of items, every day more will be added.

Every day you get the chance to make a difference.

Every day you can help the people of Tennessee realize that they are not forgotten.

Every day you can help raise a city from the depths of despair.

I understand that not everyone can donate, many of us are going through our own financial hard times. Even though you may not be able to give money to the relief, just spreading the word can do a world of good when tragedy happens. So spread the word, add the blog as a link, post an entry, add them to your sidebar. Any little bit helps. ;o)

All proceeds will be donated to Community Flood Relief for Tennessee Even if none of the items interest you, please donate. As always you can donate via the Red Cross; the link for the Middle Tennessee chapter is Here

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Please go and donate or spread the word THEN come back and enter my Dark Divine Contest - tomorrow is the LAST DAY TO ENTER!