The Business End

       The dream of authorship, it is not for the weak of heart.  I have the heart of a writer.  I love to put marks on the page that come together and create a story.  It really is just about that, for me anyway.  This may sound weird but in my head, I have all characters that literally push their way forward and demand that I share the world they live in.  I can actually hear them speaking, see them moving and feel the excitement and sadness as they show me what is happening in their lives.  

          I think the thing is that I am discouraged because of the "business" of writing.  Why can't we just write and send out our work? If it is a good story, it will sell.  It is not that easy.  There are literally THOUSANDS of books (many very good ones) on HOW to write. Books on plot, scenes, dialog, characters. Formulas on how to write that are tiresome. Let us not forget how to be in the BUSINESS of writing, agents query letters, contest that are costly and stressful.  There are not just books, but webinars, and conferences and groups all about HOW to be published! For a person like me, it is discouraging.  

I just want to write, I just want to share the amazing tales of the characters in my head.  I think you will love meeting them.  They really do have fascinating lives. I have begun a journey with a new friend.  He has a story to share.  I have agreed to write it down.  It is going to be scary, because when I am done, I have to deal with the business of writing.  It is my dream to share his story with the world we live in. Wish me luck as he and I work together to bring something to this world that will engage and bring happiness to the ones that share the story.  

On the business end, wish me luck. I am not about that end of things. I am capable of the queries and the tediousness of the business, but my heart lies in the words.  I hope I can overcome the business to bring you the stories. Know this; there are hundreds of thousands of authors out there that struggle with the business-- I guess that is why we seek agents. People that understand the contracts, the details and allow us to tell the stories.  

In hindsight, I suppose I should thank the agent that will one day see my stories and say..."OH, yes sign this girl UP!" I look forward to meeting you!  

de-bugging

This year a very sweet girl I know has donned a black  holiday hat that proclaims in bold white letters "Ba-Humbug".  This sweet young woman is struggling I believe with the part of the holidays that troubles me the most. 

 Her struggles are real, I know because I have them almost every year and it caused me to ponder for several days.  The last thing I want is this young woman I watched grow from just 4-years old into a blossoming college freshman to have is a spirit of bah-humbug because it doesn't get easier.  She has such a sweet spirit and it really has bothered me that she is struggling this year. So to Sweet Shyann I dedicate this thought and hope to you . I pray it helps to "De-Bug" this Christmas.

I love you kid, keep your eyes on the Savior. 

Mr. Scrooge sat, his potato a lump in his gut,

 and found himself again, in a holiday rut. 

Bah-Humbug indeed

he grumbled this Christmas Eve.  

Everyone is shopping, wrapping gifts tied with string. 

All the final holiday parties in full swing. 

Mr. Scrooge sat that lump in his gut and a cool-hearted thought. 

What if I fell asleep and never woke up. 

Who would know, or even care 

if I, Eb Scrooge was not even here. 

He reached down his hand and gave his belly a rub. 

Off to bed he went with humpf and a thud. 

He sat on the corner of his four-post bed, 

and wondered what life would be like if he were dead. 

His eyes soon burned calling for sleep, 

pulling up his covers he began to weep. 

I am alone, completely so, 

and I did it myself he whispered his woe.

Heart heavy and filled with despair

as his loneliness grew deeper each year. 

A single star hovered over his home, 

a silent reminder that you're never alone. 

His dreams soon turned to the stories of his youth,

the story of a child that is God's perfect proof.

Proof of a love for the one's He holds dear, 

The promise of a child that would forever be revered. 

No ghost of past, present and to be 

came to Mr Scrooge on that cold Christmas Eve.

The thing that was troubling our friend Scrooge that night,  

that made him feel alone and not quite right. 

It was not the packages tied with pretty string,

 even the parties or the Christmas carolings.

The thing that pierced his lonely heart

is he had missed the most important part. 

 Christmas Eve is a time to celebrate not what one longs to receive

 but the gift that was given by God that first Christmas Eve. 

A gift of a babe shivering and cold,

 in a manager he lay just hours old. 

His mother knew the truth of this gift

That soon all sin of mankind,He would lift.

Our friend Scrooge woke and from his window he did see,

 a star, a reminder to him and to me. 

This holiday season if you wish to de-bug, 

If you want to avoid the  holiday crud

Close your eyes to all the human greed,

 look to the Savior He has all you need.  

Rejection. Does it really suck? Nahhhh!

Today I got another letter.  It essentially said in a lovely way, "Thanks but no thanks".  It hurt for about a minute.  However with the sting still there, inside I felt something else bubbling up.  It is joy.  I know rejection is probably the worst feeling in the world.  I've had my fair share. No matter the reason--love, work, art, social ties it doesn't matter it always hurts when you pour yourself into something only to me met with -- rejection.

I propose we take a moment to reflect on what professional rejection, really represents.  (I don't want to touch on romance as it is so individual and multifaceted.) Instead I would like to look specifically at rejection of your work. Perhaps this sharing is on a small scale, such as friends and family. It could also be on a grand scale such as submitting your work for potential publication or even a proposal that may put your job on the line.  Art, the written word, business proposals (think Shark Tank) -- your work the thing that matters to you.  The thing that you create in the center of your being and dare to share it with another human being hoping for some form of validation that you are not wasting your time/life.

LET ME BEGIN THERE:
IF it comes from your heart. It is NEVER something that is unworthy.  Why you ask? Because you are worthy.  It is not something that another can place a value on, it is YOU, and you are priceless.  The truth is professional rejection makes us stronger as artist, writers, business persons.  It often pushes us to try harder, stretch our thinking, to learn more, dig deeper.  It betters us.

If you are considering giving up because someone/thing has turned down your work. Perhaps it was not your heart at all that you  poured into that thing.  When your heart belongs to your work, you can't put it down because another person simply said, "Thanks, but not this time."

In many ways, putting your work out there for another to judge or critic makes you a winner.  Many artist, writers, business persons never take that leap.  They sit in the corner hoping one day that someone will walk by and notice their work. They call it humility, what it really is -- fear (of rejection).  It is okay to be strong enough to say I want people to see what I have done here.  It's okay really.

Think if the greats never shared their work, but instead waited for someone to hopefully notice. Which more than likely would never happen.  That would mean never a piece by Edgar Allen Poe, F. Scott Fitzgerald, Stephen King-- think where the world would be.. fewer movies that's for sure. Benjamin Button would be but a lost tale, as the Great Gastby.  Never would just the single word "It" have sent shivers up my spine. Never would I have an image clearly in my mind when a person says "Cugo" or "Carrie". Single word titles that strike fear into the hearts of many.  English teachers everywhere at a loss on how to explore the Gothic writings, the poor Tell Tale Heart still beating yet not a soul would know. The Conquer Worm never explored.. the horror of it all.

I learned a long time ago when I was so desperate to be a published artist that many times, it is not the work that is not worthy, but the circumstances.  Perhaps your piece did not work in that "issue" or that time.  That does not mean it never will. My first layout was published many months after I had submitted it. In fact I forgot that I had submitted it!  I now have over forty layouts published in every major magazine in the industry. Why am I telling you this?  It means you must keep trying. Don't give up!
Rejection is not a reflection of YOU instead it means-- that at this time-- in this place, right now it doesn't fit.  That doesn't mean it wont EVER fit.

NEXT I would like to address the concept of  "You don't do it to be published."

POPPYCOCK!   I am going to turn my gear toward writing for a moment but this applies in many places. If you don't write to share your stories, then why are you writing?  Keep your personal journal and it doesn't matter if the structure is solid, or the characters are developed.  IT IS OKAY TO SEEK OUT PUBLICATION FOR YOUR WORK. It doesn't make you prideful, or any less the artist because you  have a longing to share your stories/work.

 It makes you a writer/artist. I am so tired of others saying... "I don't write to get published." I call you out!  IF you are not writing/creating to be published then why are you sharing?  Is it that fear that you will forever be rejected by the publishing houses?  YES that is what it is.  The fear that others may not find value in your work?  YES that is what it is. I say to that... RUBBISH... keep submitting don't be a coward.  It only makes you stronger when you are rejected.  You re-read that piece or as an artist  you may reconsider your color scheme/and design or even reconsider the proposal and how to make it stronger.  Rejection changes your thinking. It makes you LOOK at your work.  If you submit your work and it is rejected, use that to build your craft not tear yourself down.
Learn from rejection , don't be hurt by it. Yes the sting will always come, but when you feel that sting, when it hurts and you begin to question yourself, smack yourself in the face and say, "OKAY how can I make this better?" Then try again! and again! and again!

Be strong and don't EVER let anyone/thing make you feel small or less valuable. You are still learning and trying a work in progress until your last breath is taken.

I have a final quote that I want to share...

"A professional writer is an amateur who didn't quit." Richard Bach (Freedom with Writing)

That says it all. Never give up-- not on the things that matter.


Oh and this is good too!

UPDATE: I have submitted to two more magazines after writing this post today. Fingers crossed but if it's not to be, that's okay. See makes us stronger ;)

Poetry-- Why not give it a shot.

“Unnoticed Bits of Commonality”

By: Erika Hayes

Mundane.

 Commonplace.

 Ordinary.

A pen,

A cup,

A sin

 Existing in the everyday

What is the significance of

 words,

lies,

stories;

These that haunt mankind.

Always the unnoticed

laboring the daily grind.

These that intrude on our life,

“I need a pen!”

“Where is my cup?”

“I hide my sin.”

The tidbits of humanity

Create

 the words,

the lies,

the stories

of our unnoticed bits of commonality. 

Second World - New Short Story

Here we are again. I have a short story to share with you.  PLEASE leave a comment and let me know what you think. It was a fun piece and I enjoyed writing it.  Thank you again for sharing and taking the time to read my story.

Second World

By: Erika Hayes

Charles Nibbly sat in his blue-grey cubicle drumming his fingers. He stifled another yawn and shook his head quickly from side to side. He sat straighter in his chair and looked at his reflection in the monitor. He saw the wily cowlick that cursed him for his entire life had successfully fought off his attempt to tame it with gel and hair spray.  He rocked back in his chair he pressed his fingers to his eyes then down to his neck and massaged the knots that had sent sharp pains down his back.  

 He placed his elbows on his desk and pulled himself forward.  He switched between Facebook and his Second World game to break the monotony of his day.   As he clicked between the two and commented on political post and a few funny memes on Facebook that made him stifle a hearty laugh. In Second World, Charles a mighty warrior defended his scantily clad bosomy computer generated dream girl from an evil magician and his fleet of fire breathing dragons.  It passed the hours and helped to keep his over qualified mind busy waiting for the next routine assignment thrown at him by his under qualified supervisor.  He felt no guilt for using the company time for his internet indulgence.  His job was dull and simple. He often wound up his entire day’s tasks in less than thirty minutes.

  To avoid awkward interactions with his manager Charles occasionally looked up, feigned frustration and tapped on his calculator. He found that it the best way to give the appearance of diligent work.  He lifted his long lanky limbs into the space above him to stretch his tense muscles. Rolling his shoulders, he longed for a life with some adventure.    His postgraduate degree in predictive analytics proved useless and the economy kept him locked to his desk. 

With his work for the day all but done, his thoughts returned to the epic battle he had completed before work this morning. After many attempts, Charles had finally defeated a formable foe in Second World.  Inspired by his achievement, he decided today would be different.  He would do something that was truly brave. He didn’t know what but he knew something had to change.  He pushed his thick black rimmed glasses back to the proper resting place on the bridge of his nose.  The familiar chime of a Facebook notification drew his attention. Or maybe nothing will ever change he thought.  He loosened his Dr. Who bowtie and threw it in his desk drawer.  He clicked back to Second World game where his beautiful companion stood in the same spot waiting for him legs and breast severely exposed. He liked that feeling. A woman waiting for him. 

Monday’s were drudgery for Charles he longed to return to the weekend activity of questing the lands of Second World with his cyber friends.  It struck him odd on several occasions that he had a stronger bond with strangers than his own parents.

 Some days Charles felt he should be embarrassed to be twenty-six years old and still living with his parents, but he had no reason to find a place of his own. He had job and no bills to speak of and his mom insisted on doing his laundry. No girlfriend of life either he reminded himself. 

A digital trumpeter signaled that his new quest had begun.  The world around him dissipated.  Time loses its hold in Second World and soon his fifty-minute quest was nearly over.  The reward would be the accolades of Xenra his lovely curvaceous computer generated companion. She would promise a great rewarded when they entered the platinum member’s, Master’s Private Chamber.  Her high-quality graphics gave her a realism that enticed him to continue to quest day in and day out.  Her program gave her all the right words and sounds when he was alone in his room. Produced to make him feel worthy, and for now, he was satisfied with her fawning. It was worth the $14.99 a month.

His fantasy world shattered when the smooth voice of Erin Wu cooed, “Hi Charles.” He slipped smoothly into this world when he looked up and saw her noteworthy jade green eyes, thick black hair tied in a messy bun and her slender athletic body.

His eyes shifted to his computer screen. Xenra stood nearly bare outside the Master’s Bedchamber waiting for his command to enter.  He quickly clicked the lower left edge of his computer desktop to hide the evidence of his conquest. “Oh!” His voice squeaked. “Hi Erin.” He cleared his throat. “Uh—How was your weekend?”

“The usual.” Her long French manicured fingers rest on the ledge of his cubicle. “You know nothing too great.”

“Sorry to hear that.” He pushed his hands over the top of his thighs to smooth out the wrinkles in his khakis. “So what can I do for you?” He was trying to play it cool while his mind was absorbing every movement, sound and sight of her. Her floral perfume wound into his space and he was enchanted. It held him; he longed to wrap himself in it, in her.

Leaning around the corner of his space to afford more privacy Erin almost whispered, “I was wondering,” she paused took a brief look around, “do you play Second World?”

He thrust his chin back and cocked his head. “Uh—yeah.” he was genuinely taken back by her question. “Why?”  

“Can you friend me? I don’t have anyone to quest with. I just got started and well,” She smiled and his heart skipped.  The dark red lipstick against her warm skin made her perfectly white teeth even more attractive.  “It’s just—I need someone to show me around.”

Charles was surprised to learn that someone as breath taking as Erin Wu would be playing Second World.  He assumed that most the people that played Second World were more like him.  While Charles preferred NPC (Non-Player Characters) because the computer generated companions were always willing to go to the Master’s Bedchamber,  if Erin Wu wanted to quest he was happy to show her the ropes. He would gladly skip the Master’s Bedchamber for real time with Erin Wu.

“Oh uh, sure. What’s your tag?”  Her face contorted in confusion. “Your user name” He clarified and smiled up at her while grabbing a sticky note and a pen.

“Vixen342634” her lips pouted, “it’s stupid, but it was all I could think of when I signed up.”

He looked up from his scribbled note. “Oh it’s not stupid.” He placed the note with her username to his computer screen, “Do the numbers mean anything?”

Her cheeks flushed a bright red. “Yeah, I uh—it’s my measurements.”

He couldn’t stop himself. His eyes traveled up and down her body, “Oh I should have realized that.” His eye widened when he reached her smile he looked down quickly. “I mean—uh well—nevermind.” His face burned. The blood in his body was struggling to determine which route to take, northern or southern.  He shifted in his chair.  “Oh well, yeah—”   His leg was jiggling up and down like a sewing machine. “I will find you and we can maybe quest today.” 

“Thanks!” the elevation in her voice gave him hope. “I wish my boyfriend would play.” Her eyes downcast “But he said it was a stupid time sucker for nerds.”

     The shot to his chest was quick and sharp. A boyfriend, of course she has a boyfriend.

 She added softly. “ Um—not that you’re a nerd, it just he’s kind of a jerk. He just doesn’t get it. You know, like you get it.” She looked up again and held his gaze.  

Charles chest warmed. Hope flickered and he smiled.  Was she coming on to him he wondered.  Stupid look at her, there is no way she is coming on to you!  “Oh—yeah that’s cool. I didn’t know you had a boyfriend.” He held his breath.

“Yeah, but—well never mind.” Her eyes suddenly appeared glassy.

“Oh! I’m sorry I didn’t mean to pry.” He handed her a Kleenex from his desk. “I—I  just never heard you talk about him is all.”

“It’s okay.” She accepted the tissue and flashed him a quick smile. “I think one of the reasons I want to play is well, sometimes I just need to get away.” She looked up than back down again.  “I knew you played and I thought—“

She was confiding in him.  He knew that was a good sign.  She needed someone, and he could offer his small but strong shoulder.  “I just want to—I don’t know I wanted to...” Her large almond eyes flickered as she tried to hold back the inevitable tear.

“I understand if you don’t want to talk about it.” He fought the urge to stand and embrace her. “We can stick to the game. Sorry.” He clinched his fist and struggled against the instinct to punish himself.  “I didn’t mean to make you upset.” 

“No. It’s okay, really.” She dabbed at the tears that made her already long dark lashes appear even darker. “I—I could use a friend right now.” she took in a large breath and exhaled hard.  “Can we maybe talk later?”

Friend, of course friend.  I am always their friend. Damn it!  He was lamenting when he realized she was staring at him waiting for an answer.  “Sorry—I just— I mean, you…”

She forced a smile. “I understand, work and all.” She looked down at her shiny black stilettoes.  “Maybe later?” The small streak of makeup under her eye had drawn his attention.

“Oh no, I was listening it’s just that you have a little smear,” he reached up and wiped the smudge away. “right here.” He pushed back in his chair and crossed his foot over his knee. “I have time right now, I mean if you wanna talk.”

His reward was another big smile. She tilted her head down and touched her cheek where his hand had rested.  A warm glow flushed her cheeks. She looked up and her eyes had changed. No longer were they sweet and innocent but a sultry look held him mesmerized. Her voice had softened to a purr. “I would love that.”  She turned slowly never taking her eyes off his.

Charles attempted to clear his head with a slight shake.  He wasn’t sure what had just happened. He knew that today he was tired of being nobody. No real woman had ever looked at him that way. His pulse quickened. He shifted in his chair. A bead of sweat trickled down his chest. He caught his breath. He lifted his hand to stop her from leaving. “Hey you wanna grab some lunch?”

 Many times, he had dreamt of asking her out. He never believed the opportunity or possibility would arise. He had practiced repeatedly at home in his bathroom mirror. It would be romantic and memorable.

His palms were moist. He licked his dry cracking lips. I’m so stupid, ‘wanna grab lunch?’ really? How frickin’ romantic was that?  His thoughts bounced but time seemed to stop as he watched her for any sign of rejection. The sounds of the office melted into nothing. He tried not to hold his breath, but found himself becoming dizzy at the lack of oxygen.

Erin turned and gave her full attention.  She looked around and gave him her coveted sexy half grin, “Yeah that would be nice. What time?”

He looked at his desk clock, lifted his arms and locked his fingers behind his head as he leaned back in his chair. He could not believe how strong he felt.    “Now?” Surprised at his own courage, he sat up straight again and leaned toward Erin cocked his head.  He decided this was his moment then blurted out, “Or.” Shocked at how loud he had started he deepened his voice and continued, “Or, we can do dinner.”

She arched her eyebrow cupped her chin between her thumb and fingers, looked up as if she were deep in thought.  “Hummmm.”

He attempted to make his intention boldly clear. Charles Nibbly was asking Erin Wu out on a date.  He could barely hear over the pounding of the blood in his ears.  He lifted his hands and large lump formed in his throat. He thought that he needed to give her an out and stuttered, “Or, Whatever.  You know.”  Then he fought to manage his breathing.

“How about both?” her mouth upturned into a half smile.

“Yeah, really?” His voice cracked again like a prepubescent boy.   

She let out a soft seductive laugh. “Really” She leaned over his desk. His eyes immediately drawn directly to her round ample bosom pushed up in a lacey black bra. She planted a warm soft kiss on his cheek. “Maybe breakfast?” the purr in her voice left no question to her intention.

Charles felt the heat of her breath in his ear.  The hair on his arms stood erect with anticipation. He relished in the softness of her lips still fresh on his cheek.  He had spent many nights alone in his room with Erin as the center of his fantasies.  He tried to deepened his voice, “Okay, well let me just shut down my computer.”

He moved his cursor and hovered over shutdown icon he reached for his jacket, smiled up at Erin and winked. “Then we can get out of here.”

“Oh and Charles,” leaning deeper she took his hand.  Her long black hair fell from its makeshift bun and cascaded over her shoulders. The sweet scent of her perfumed hair coiled into his nostrils. He breathed in deeply to take in every second of this moment.

“Yeah?”

“It’s time to wake up.”

He blinked his eyes, looked up at his computer screen just as Erin Wu walked passed his desk, and cursed quietly “Damn it!”

Thinner

OKAY Friends
I wrote a short story and would love your input. I plan to enter it into a contest. This is the first of my own work I have shared on this blog.

“Thinner”

By Erika Hayes

     The restaurant was buzzing with activity. Reese Waller found a strange comfort in the white noise. This was how she worked. The busyness allowed her to focus on the task at hand. Wrapping a clean napkin around her iced tea, she put the familiar green straw to her lips and took in the much needed caffeine. Sitting at her favorite booth, she prayed for the words to come.  But her slender fingers remained idle. The cursor on her computer screen was stuck. “This article isn’t gonna write itself,” she mumbled softly. She moved her hand across her forehead, leaned her head back. Sighed deeply and closed her soft brown eyes.  

A crash in the kitchen gave her a shock and the adrenaline pumped as she instinctively lifted her hands over her chest and face.  Looking around for the source of the sound, she caught the glimpse of an inexplicable shadow move across the floor. The hair on her arm stood rigid. A shiver slithered down her spine.  Reese moved her hands over her bare arms rapidly in an attempt to tame the chill that was spreading.

“What the hell was that?”

“Oh, new guy in the kitchen.” Reese’s server and best friend Danika Mitchell perky voice chimed as she walked past carrying a full tray of meals to deliver. Danika paused, turned and added, “He’s kind of a butterfingers, but cute as hell.” Lifting her brows she smiled at her friend “And that’s always a bonus.” 

“No—not the glass, the…the—did you see that…”  Shaking her head, Reese paused and considered her words “Never mind, I just thought I saw something.”

“You want more tea?”

“No, thanks.” Reese looked back to her keyboard, “Oh but hey, if you have an idea how to write this article, I will take one of those.”

“Nope. All out of those, we 86ed ‘em just before you got here.” Both girls laughed as Danika walked way.

Reese’s eyes followed her short spunky friend as she moved with ease to a table to take their order.  Reese noticed the teenaged girl at the table was not smiling along with her family. She sat very still twisting her fine dull brown hair. Then she flashed a quick false smile as Danika placed the small salad on the table in front of her.

 Reese turned her attention to her computer again. She absent-mindedly massaged her shoulder. The cursor mocked her, unmoving blinking in anticipation of inspiration.  She Picked up her iced tea, she gave herself a feeble internal pep talk. I know I can do this.   She tapped her fingers on the table. She stared at the empty booth in front of her.  She shuffled the “Starve Fat Cells Diet” research that presented an adequate distraction.  Damnit, I’m never gonna make my deadline—I just can’t think straight. Reese thought and resolved that writing in the restaurant tonight was futile.  She reached for her blue ombrѐ computer bag and began packing up. 

Danika plopped into the vacant seat, her long blonde ponytail still swinging. “You heading home?”

“Yeah, I’m never gonna get this artic--” A shock of terror moved across her face. The shadow she had seen before paused in the doorway then slithered across the room. Reese tracked the movement, “What the…” her voice was hoarse and her eyes transfixed.

“Reesie—you okay?”

Reese sat frozen.  Her focus was on the table with the young teen picking slowly around her salad.

“Reese, Reese what’s up?” Danika craned her neck to scan the room and try to pinpoint what had captured her friends’ attention. “What are you looking at?”

A small gasp escaped from Reese when for a moment the grey shadow took form above the girl and then disappeared. Looking back and forth from Danika’s round questioning blue eyes to the place where the creature had appeared, “I, uh, Danika did you see that?”

Dumbfounded, Danika searched again, “What? See what?” Her brows knit together. She reached across the table and took her friends frail hand, “Reesie, you okay?”

 Reese blinked her eyes and  looked to her friend. “Uh, yeah I think my imagination is in full gear,” she laughed and lifted her tea and swirled it around. She titled her glass in Danika’s direction. “Maybe a little too much caffeine.”

Danika raised her eyebrows and nodded, “Yeah that must be it.” 

Reese shook her head and shifted in the booth. Then she scanned the restaurant from wall to wall. “I changed my mind.” A small bead of sweat trickled down her back. “I think I will stay here—if you don’t need the table.” She drew her eyes to meet Danika’s “What time are you off work?”

“I still got a couple hours. Why don’t I get you something to eat? It’s on the house.”

“No, I’m not hungry.”

“Reese, you’re never hungry. When did you eat last?” Danika tossed a crayon-covered menu on the table “I think you are starting to hallucinate.”

“Dan-Dan, we are not going here again. I just need to drop a little weight before my sister’s wedding.”

“I hate that you do this.” Danika let out a deep sigh “Just frickin’ eat. Okay!”

“Shut-up, MOM!” Reese knew how to stop Danika from nagging her. “I had this delicious passion fruit iced-tea for dinner.”

“Yeah, whatever—but did you put sugar in it or that stupid pink crap?”

“Don’t you have a table to wipe down somewhere?”

Danika drew her hands to her chest put an exaggerated look on her face. “Bitch.” Then she smiled, turned and bounced away.

“Right back at ya!” Reese paused until Danika was several steps away and called out, “LOVE YOU!”

Reese glanced over the room again. She felt her heart pushing against her chest when she spotted the young teen pushing the lettuce around her plate. The girl tugged at the bottom of her lip then slowly lifted a small piece of the lettuce to her mouth and paused. The shadow materialized again just above the girl. Reese threw her hands over her mouth to muffle a scream as the beast loomed over the young thin girl.  The long dark hollow-faced creature turned its crimson red eyes on Reese and revealed several inches of fangs oozing with black fluid.  The thick liquid oozed through the fangs over fat lips and fell on the table near the  girl’s small house salad.  The monster hissed at Reese, and flicked its serpentine black tongue. Then it returned its attention to the young girl.

As the teen’s fork came to her mouth, a drop of ooze fell from the mouth of the beast onto the fork.  The girl’s nose crinkled and she contorted her face in disgust after she forced the small tainted lettuce into her mouth. She pulled her head back and returned her fork to her plate as she choked down her food. A hideous guttural laugh echoed. Reese’s eyes darted all over the restaurant checking the faces of each patron. What the hell is wrong with me? Why did she eat that? Can’t she see it’s covered with something? Am I the only person that sees what the hell is happening?   Evident that no one else had heard the laughter nor seen the hideous creature, Reese bit her lower lip and looked down at her shaking hands.

“What’s up with you tonight?” Danika’s voice pulled Reese back into reality “You look like you just saw a ghost.”

“Uh—I,” color slowly returned to her cheeks “I’m imagining things again, I guess.  You know how it is for us writers.” She flashed a quick smile and looked back to her keyboard. “We start thinking and the next thing you know we…” she swallowed, “we get lost in our own little world.”

“Okay if you say so. You sure I can’t interest you in a salad or some—“

“Oh god NO!” She frowned, “I do not want a salad.”

“Okay, Okay calm yourself.” Donning a sarcastic smile, “Don’t you have a deadline to meet?”

“Bitch.”

“Right back attcha, baby.” As she walked away Danika reached behind her back and flipped her best friend a single digit “I love you too!”  Reese could see Danika laugh as she smiled and introduced herself to the newly seated customers.

Reese reached into her handbag and took out a pair of electric blue headphones. After she plugged the metal into her computer, Reese lowered her head, flipped her thin dull brown hair, and placed the ear bud into her ear. NOW Focus she commanded herself.

Resolved that her hunger pangs were what had caused her to imagine things she tried to focus on her article.   She reread what she had.  All she had managed to assemble was a completely incoherent jumble of words. She rapidly pressed the delete button and watched as the letters disappeared rapidly backwards. When she reached for her almost empty glass, her stomach growled. “Damn, size zero.” Reese muttered as she recalled the phone call with the dress shop, “Why the hell didn’t I tell her I was a size two?”

 Danika slid a plate with several saltines onto the table. “Just humor me.”

“Whatever, you’re a real nag you know it!” Reese shoved a cracker into her mouth as her friend watched. A look of disgust crossed her face, “Oh god, these are gross!” She spit the partially chewed cracker into a clean white napkin, “What the hell did you put on these things?”

Danika reached down, broke a piece of one of the crackers off and popped it into her mouth, “Mmm, they are fine.” She ate the remaining piece of the cracker and slid into the booth opposite her friend “Seriously, when did you eat last?  I think your taste buds are broken from lack of use.” 

“I’m fine Dan-Dan” she lied “I ate earlier today. I just gotta drop a few more pounds.”

“Girl you have been saying that for fifteen years.” Shaking her head, Danika stood “You are too skinny already.” Danika reached down and patted Reese’s flat midsection “Damn there is like zero fat there girl. EAT already.”

Reese gawked at her friend, her cheeks burned.  “What the hell is wrong with you?” her voice broke. Quickly she gathered herself and nervously checked the other patrons had seen what her friend had done. Trying to alter her voice she joked, “Don’t ever grab my fat like that again, jerk.”

“Okay, okay sorry.” Danika lifted her hands in surrender. “Take it easy skinny Minnie. But as soon as this stupid wedding is over I am taking you out for a steak dinner and you’re going to eat it all. Got it?”

Reese fought the gag reflex at the thought of eating a steak. “Anything to get you off my back.”  

“Your bony back.” Danika’s voice softened with concern. “Reesie, you have lost too much weight, you really are starting…,” Danika sighed and swatted at an invisible pest. “You are starting to worry me is all. I think maybe, never mind, just promise me you will eat something.”

“I told you, I had something earlier. I’m fine. I know what I’m doing.” Her eyes swept the room again as she checked for the shadow, “It’s research.”   

Danika shook her head. “Yeah, research for what?” She wrapped her arms around herself. “How to starve to death?”  She sighed heavily. “A by-line isn’t worth it. I don’t care if it is a national magazine.”  Danika rolled her eyes, pushed the plate of crackers at her friend, and walked away from the table.

 Reese looked at the crackers and felt her stomach pull. Her mouth watered unmercifully as she considered eating one of the crackers.  Oh, one won’t kill me. She shoved a cracker into her mouth.  A vulgar metallic taste assaulted her tongue. Her eyes widened as she looked down and black ooze had puddled near the napkin.  Pulling the cracker from her mouth, she tossed the remaining piece onto the plate and watched in horror as the ink-colored fluid pooled on the plate.

 An eerie hiss cut through the white noise that had minutes before been her comfort.  Spitting and coughing, Reese desperately searched the room for any indication that someone else heard or saw what she was seeing. Cupping her elbows tight in her hands, she retreated into herself. The skin on her arms pricked at the sense of something unnatural passed through her.

The muscles in Reese’s back gripped her spine. Closing her eyes, she attempted to calm her rapid breathing. She inhaled deeply and held her breath, then slowly released as a quiver of icy fear ran through her. The presence of her oppressor materialized above her. Oh, God what is happening to me?   

“You know me Reese.” Its familiar cruel voice licked her ear. Cold hard talons gripped her shoulders as Reese clung tighter to her midsection. Unable to speak she sat rigid. The creature’s shrill evil laugh encased her. “You and I have work to do.” It hissed.

 Reese shuddered and pushed away the plate of crackers.

Her shoulders sagged. She couldn’t resist the creatures hold.  Reese set her hands on the keyboard. Fingers shaking, she and tapped out the whispered lies the creature spoke,

“Thin is In: Drop Ten Pounds in Ten Days.”

          By: Reese Waller  

Children's Lit, Who knew

My EDU class has had several great assignments this term.  I think the last three have been my favorites. Perhaps because the books are more the middle school level.  I mean that in a positive way.  I love children's books.  I just enjoy reading books with more depth.

First  I read a biography of Will Smith which was awesome. If you know any kids looking to do a book report  his life story is inspiring and interesting. The name of the book was Will Smith : A biography of a rapper turned movie star.  There was only a few places that I was disappointed by the author's bias peeking through but I got over it.  I was offended once, but again, I am not the target audience.

Then I read Patrica Clapp: Jane Emily and Witches Children for our historical novel.  I only read  Witches Children, but plan to return and read Jane Emily. This story took place during the Salem witch trials and had a very interesting perspective.  Great book to introduce the 1620's Puritan culture.  


The Friends was this week's assignment. This is a multi-cultural novel which was translated to English in 1997.  The story takes place in Japan and because it was written by a Japanese author for a Japanese audience, one really gets a sense of the culture.  It is interesting to see how the Japanese boys in this book are so like every little American kid in some ways but in others they are completely different.  I mean could you imagine, telling your sixth grader that they need to go to "cram school"?  This is not even up for discussion, it is what they do!  Every day after school they went to "cram school" to study and prepare (wait for it) to take admissions test into JUNIOR HIGH SCHOOL!  It also opens up the beauty of the Japanese culture.  This is a coming of age story, that everyone can relate to, but seen through a different cultures point of view.  It also tackles the often uncomfortable notion of death.  I would recommend this book, but beware, it is translated, thus there are English errors.  The errors are often in dialogue and only makes the setting easier for a student to relate.

Okay with all that said and done, I wanted to say "Thank you" to my EDU professor (Renee Barstack)  for her intelligent and thought-provoking assignments.

Keep reading
Erika