My Favorite Things: the Blog-y things

Welcome! I'm excited to get to work on a new website and a new blog. It's like starting a new manuscript - sitting down to a blank page, with my head full of ideas, excited to see where my new adventure is going to take me. I'm glad you're here!

For this space, I'm envisioning highlighting my favorite parts of writing. We'll do a lot of talking about how to write and improve our writing. I'll spotlight my favorite authors and books, and rave about the conferences I attend. I'm also a huge fan of writing prompts, so I'm definitely going to throw some of those in here and there. Of course, you'll get info on my books along the way. It's going to be fun!

For now, in a nod to a very old blog I let lapse a few years ago, I'll start with a writing prompt. I LOVE writing prompts, because they can go anywhere. Sometimes they're dead ends, but once in a while something magical happens, and a whole new world appears on the page. I live for those moments! When I do these, I challenge you to write your response before reading mine, so you aren't influenced by what I write.

The Prompt: Write something to send shivers up my spine!

And my response (Also stolen from the old blog, because it's one of my favorites!):

The clock on the wall read eleven forty-five when the movie finally ended.  I sighed.  Tonight definitely did not turn out like I'd pictured.  Tasha had to get herself grounded for breaking curfew last week, so she was jailed up at home.  I'd even called her mom and pleaded my case: My parents are both out of town on business, and I just need someone to be at home with me, so I'm not alone.  She was very sympathetic, but she made it quite clear that Tasha was still in leg irons for the next two weekends.  No dice.

Brandon said he'd come over, at first, but when he found out my parents would be gone, he got all fidgety.  "I like your parents.  I want them to keep liking me.  Did they say I could come?"

"Well, not exactly ..."  What they'd said, exactly, was that Tasha was welcome, but no one else, especially Brandon.

"If one of them were to come home and find me there, would they be mad?"  He looked me right in the eye, and I was trapped.  Why did I have to pick such a good boy for a boyfriend?!  He was lucky he was hot, or this would be reason enough to dump him.

So I ended up alone in the basement, half-eaten box of pizza on the coffee table, empty quart of ice cream next to it.  I switched off the TV.  The house was starkly silent, without even the ticking of a clock to soften it.  I took a deep breath.  There was no reason I should let this freak me out.  No one but Tasha and Brandon knew I was alone tonight.  I'd lived in the house all sixteen years of my life, and no one had ever broken in.  It was just another night.

I gathered the pizza and ice cream boxes into my arms and headed towards the stairs.  I flipped off the switch to the living area, and a blanket of darkness fell.  I swallowed hard, reaching purposefully towards the switch for the stairwell.  I should have known better.

Light restored, I started up the stairs to the main level of the house.  I flipped on the next light before turning off the stair light behind me.  Then I glanced around.  The kitchen/living area of the house was mom's pride and joy.  In the daytime, bright sunlight streamed in through large windows.  Mom loved natural light.  How was it I'd never noticed how creepy it was at night?  In each window, my reflection stared back at me.  I couldn't see out, but I knew anyone standing outside could see in.  I flipped the switch back off. 

There must have been a full moon; shadows stretched across the lawn from the deck to the old swing set.  I fixed my eyes to the old lilac bush.  It moved.  I gulped. 

The wind howled against the house, and I nearly jumped out of my socks.  Then I realized that was why the bush was moving.  I shook my head, laughing nervously, and headed towards the kitchen.  Just then, lightning flashed, painting the image of the windows across the tile of the kitchen floor.  My heart stopped.  In the light from the sliding glass door stood a silhouette - the shadow of a man.  My eyes leaped up to the door.  No one was there.  From the size of the shadow, he would have to be right there, standing in front of the door.  But there was nothing there.

My nervous laugh rose again in my throat, but it didn't even make it to my mouth.  I swallowed it down.  I should have put the leftover pizza in a Tupperware, but who has time for that when there's an axe murderer in your backyard?  I tossed the empty ice cream box into the trash, remembering as it hit the bottom that I shouldn't throw away the spoon inside.  Oh well.  If I lived through the night, I'd fish it out.  I tossed the pizza box into the fridge and slammed the door, just as another flash lit the room.

My eyes flew to the spot on the tile where the man's shadow was.  In the strobes of light, like an old-fashioned movie, I saw the shadow lift its hand to the door handle. 

I screamed.

I had to get to my room. I turned and ran out the back of the kitchen, up the stairs to the third floor.  Behind me, the glass of the kitchen door shattered.