April is National Poetry Month. I’ve never considered myself to be much of a poetry fan, nor am I that skilled in their construction. However one of my favorite stories is filled with poems in many forms. From songs, to prophecies, to war chants and funeral songs, a poem can add lyrical depth to a special moment in any story. [Read more…] about Celebrating Poetry
Who doesn’t love a good Fairy Tale? The princess is locked in a tower. The prince has been turned into a frog. And the Giant has stolen the golden harp. We all grew up with these stories, whether they were directly from the brothers Grimm, or retold by Walt Disney. The April issue of Splickety’s Havok magazine took these well-known stories and encouraged writers to give them a twist.
[Read more…] about Fiction Friday – The Toe Troll
I’ve recently come to a couple of realizations. These aren’t new concepts, and are probably old hat to a lot of you. They really aren’t new to me, either, but I tend to need a refresher on some of Life’s lessons. I don’t think I’m alone on that one. The first of these mind-altering lessons is that life is crazy. Can someone with a three year-old give me an Amen? Some days (weeks/months/years) are full of unstoppable forces and uncontrollable circumstances. There’s nothing that you or I can do about those, and sometimes we’re overcome by the stress of it all. Other times, we fill our time with doing, and being, and living. And that’s OK. It’s OK to be busy, as long as you remember lesson number two:
The camp fire was smoldering when the dark haired man woke from the dream. Rays of sunlight peeked through the canopy of ancient trees. Images from the nightmare jumbled through his mind. Why had it changed now? Could the foretelling of the Yol’Nog be true? Was the end so close?
There’s a common theme in many bestselling novels. There are libraries full of books that claim to have the answer to make readers buy your story. Romance, action, adventure. Kill off your characters, draw out the plot lines! But I’m not here to talk about any of those. No, no. From the studious hallways of Hogwarts to the wooden floors of Bag End; there is but one thing to make our stomachs rumble.
Jenna stood in the center of a village. Her village. The dark thatch roofs were unmistakable. The people around her glided about their lives, their faces blurry though she knew their names. They ignored her, as they always did in the dream. A woman with a basket of fruit walked through her, not skipping a beat. Jenna existed in this world to watch. She wished she could close her eyes and not see what was coming next.