I can’t believe I’m writing this — we are getting ready to finish October and head straight into NaNoWriMo. Where did the time go? With that being said, I am taking a “time-out” from the Indie Ink writing challenges during the month of November. I hope you’ll stick around for my NaNoWriMo updates and if it seems that I’m slacking off, give me a push (or 3) to keep me on track. Here’s to 50,000 words in 30 days! It’s going to be an interesting month!
The couple sat stunned as they listened to what the rehab doctor was telling them. It didn’t make any sense, didn’t seem possible. They didn’t know how to react… the trauma of what she had been through over the past eight weeks, starting with the accident and then her very rough recovery and rehab, did not lead to immediate excitement. The couple sat there trying to take in the news, each in their own reverie. The husband took hold of his wife’s hand and brought it to his lips. She closed her eyes and remembered. Continue reading
“The object of fiction isn’t grammatical correctness but to make the reader welcome and then tell a story…” Stephen King
Welcome to Fictional Graffiti!
That is one of my favorite quotes from Stephen Kings’ “On Writing,” and my goal with my writing…to tell stories and to entertain.
I have moved all related posts from Thoughts from the Farm here, along with the comments.
While I’m not quite finished tweaking and playing with the blog, one thing I did do, was make it easier (I hope) to subscribe to Fictional Graffiti. You can now subscribe either via RSS direct to your Reader or via email via Feedburner. If you’re a WordPress blogger, there is a “follow” button.
I appreciate all of you that have supported, pushed, commented, and provided the best feedback ever. I hope you will continue to follow along on this journey of mine.
She was so tired. She just put the boy down for a nap after his feeding. As she shuffled her way over to the easy chair, her mind kept going back to the boy. He was a month old, but looked like a toddler. He looked that way when he was born. She half expected him to talk when they first placed him next to her after he was delivered. Easing her tired body into the chair, she reflected on her pregnancy with the boy and how different it was in comparison to the girl. Being pregnant with the girl was a breeze. You would never know they came from the same parents by looking at them. He still looked the way he did after she delivered him. Continue reading
Time, that’s all she wanted, more time. She wasn’t ready to give in or quit. She still had plenty of fight left in her. She had promised her family she wouldn’t give in. She was going to keep that promise.
She collected herself as she stood outside the door to the doctor’s office. It had been a harrowing year for her. No promises were made, no hope was given. They had discovered her illness at its latest stage.
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There is a difference in seeking quiet and solitude. She craves solitude and lots of it. There is rarely quiet here, too many machines, everything is brightly lit and it’s hard to hear yourself think. Solitude is non-existent, except when you step outside. Everyone craves solitude, but it was a far deeper yearning for her. The hunger for solitude had driven her for the past week. Whenever she looked out of the window, she saw her salvation.
It was her turn to go outside. She was ready, but it wasn’t quite time yet. There was the preparation left to do before she could step outside. Continue reading