Thursday, May 21, 2009

Really great writing

On occasion I get to read some really great writing and today was one of those days. A local second grade class came to visit us and wrote us letters to say thank you. Sometimes, it takes a group to figure out what they really say, so to help in your future reading pleasure here are some of our all-time favorite misspellings.

Here are the sentences as written, and then our interpretation of them.

Sentence - This wus the funest filchrip ever.
Interpretation – This field trip gave me a new insight on the world we live in and was highly entertaining.

Sentence – Thank you for lating us come hear.
Interpretation – It was an honor and a privilege to visit your institution.

Sentence – I came here wunts before, this is my secint time.
Interpretation – I found it to be so intellectually stimulation that I had to make a return visit.

Sentence – I liked where I culd see his musuls and bones.
Interpretation – It was fascinating to see the musculature and bone structure in such detail.

Sentence – I liked seeing the Amarikine horses.
Interpretation – I’m proud to see such a fine example of American horses.

Sentence – The herse wus really cool.
Interpretation – There were many interesting things to see, but I was fascinated by the horse.

Sentence – Thang you for the pinciels and letting us in the play aire.
Interpretation – I appreciate the gift of pencils and the freedom and intellectual opportunities in the education gallery.

Sentence – I liked it and my techar really liked it.
Interpretation – My instructor and I both enjoyed the refreshing environment.

Sentence – I loved the penicals and upsters.
Interpretation – The pencils were a useful tool to take notes on all of the amazing items displayed on your second floor.

Sentence – I relley liked it. It wus so so so cool.
Interpretation – I really liked it. It was so so so cool.

Sentence – This was abslootlee my favorite.
Interpretation – This was absolutely my favorite.

Tuesday, May 19, 2009

Two Sentence Tuesday

Happy Tuesday all! I hope things are well in the blogosphere. Things have been super hectic here. Our home study came back yesterday, but our social worker didn’t say it was good or bad, so now I’m super worried. On a happy note I was notified yesterday that I am a finalist again this year at the Frontiers in Writing contest. Last year I placed first in the Romance category. This year, I entered my current WIP, and I didn’t think it stood a chance. I mean, here we are smack dab in the middle of the Bible Belt and I entered an erotica piece. I know I am a decent writer, but I figured the subject matter would boot me right out of the competition. It was a complete surprise when I got the email yesterday.

Right now, I am reading the Night World series by L. J. Smith. It is a set of three volumes with three books in each volume. It is marketed as a teen series, but so far, I’m thinking it is more of a young reader than a teen series. All of the characters are immature, whiny and selfish. I’m having a hard time staying interested, and wouldn’t you know I bought the whole series. I’m currently reading the third book in the first volume, titled Spellbinder. Here are the last two lines I read:

“It’s Blaise’s fault,” Thea said. She was mad at Blaise. “She does – things – to boys. Human boys. And somehow it always ends up getting us kicked out of school. Both of us, because I’m always too stupid to tell them she’s the one responsible.”

Normally, I really enjoy reading teen series. As much as everyone hates on it, I like Stephanie Meyer’s Twilight books, I love The Book Thief by Markus Zusak, The Boy In The Striped Pajamas by John Boyne, but these I’m not loving. Oh, well, it was worth a shot.

Now, here are the last two lines I wrote. Please be gentle with me, I’m feeling a little fragile right now!

Mariska like to write things down. Not necessarily things she was working on, but thoughts and ideas that crossed her mind when she was otherwise preoccupied. With the stress of holding down her job at the precinct and building up her own business, she felt the quick notes she was able to jot down were her last hope at fulfilling the dream of being a writer. They were her creative outlet inside days filled with codes and puzzles.

I know. It is more than two sentences. It is double that, but what can I say? I’m an overachiever! Send good thoughts my way about the home study, I’m a little bit freaked out. Have a great day, and for more Two Sentence Tuesday, sneak over and visit the Women of Mystery.

Wednesday, May 6, 2009

3WW - Meet Me At Zero's

Today's prompts at 3WW are: Cryptic, Flash, and Malign. Another semi-dark piece. Enjoy!

“Meet me at Zero’s at 11:30 tonight. I have information for the story you are doing about Mayor Ford. I’ll find you there.”

The cryptic message on her voice mail left her confused. The voice was vaguely familiar, but she couldn’t place it. And why Zero’s? The club that catered to the goth crowd.

Cynda dug through her closet trying to find something black, other than her favorite little black dress to wear to the meeting. Black slacks, nope. Black silk blouse, nope. After a few minutes of digging she unearthed a pair of ripped jeans from her college days, a blood red corset top from last Halloween, combat boots from research she’d done on survival camp, and a black leather bomber jacket her ex-boyfriend had forgotten when he moved out.

She surveyed the look in the mirror and wasn’t thrilled. “Close enough.”

Bass pounded through the cavernous space like a heartbeat. Shadows clung to everything, flickering in the dim light of hundreds of candles. Feeling smothered, Cynda struggled to draw a breath in the crush of bodies. Every few minutes a flash of light would pulse through the club, illuminating the couples huddled in the darkest corners.

The music throbbed loud and heavy, making it feel like her bones were resonating in time with the beat. She didn’t know who to look for, so her eyes briefly landed on every face in the crowd.

At the bar she squeezed onto a bar stool between two heavily muscled men and ordered a Jack and coke. Cynda sipped the watered down drink and wondered who had left her the message. The voice had been female, and something tickled her brain and told her she knew who it was.

A tap on her shoulder had her spinning around, slamming her knee into the bar on the way.

“Dang, girl! That had to hurt.” The kid standing in front of her was in his early twenties and had so much metal in his face that it had to be impossible for him to get through airport security.

She absently rubbed the ache in her knee. “What’s up?”
“How ‘bout you come dance with me?” He leered at the cleavage pushing the limits of the corset’s control. He jacked his jeans up and all the chains hanging from his pants rattled loud enough to be heard over the music.

“Thanks, but I don’t think so.” She tried to turn back around, but his hand on her shoulder stopped her. “Look buddy –.”

He leaned in close and spoke in her ear. “Listen, I don’t want to be here any more than you do, okay. You are just supposed to come with me. She said to tell you she had information.”

Cynda gulped the rest of her drink and slid off the stood. Grabbing his hand so she wouldn’t loose him in the throng on the dance floor, she waited for him to lead the way.

He nodded and the look in his eyes far older than his years made her wonder what had happened to him. He dragged her across the club to a dark hallway that led to the restrooms. “Go into the third stall and wait there.”

She started down the hall and again he stopped her. “Watch yourself in there.”


The stall was cramped and covered in graffiti, but within seconds hard hands pulled her out and pushed her against a wall. “Why do you want information on Mayor Ford?”

The same voice from her voice mail.

“I’m doing a story on him.” The rough cinder block wall abraded her face.

“Why?” The other woman leaned heavily on Cynda.

“Because I’m a reporter, damn it. That’s my job.” Air flowed into her lungs when the pressure was taken off her back. “Can I turn around.”

“What do you know about, Daniel Ford?”

Cynda turned slowly to face her informant. Shock held her immobile for a second. “Mrs. Ford?”

“What do you know about my husband?” The normally elegant Angela Ford was dressed in leather and chains with enough black eyeliner ringing her eyes to take care of four goth girls. “I’m not going to ask again. Tell me what you know.”

Unease skittered down Cynda’s spine. “I know there is a rumor spreading that he can’t keep his hands off your babysitter.”

The ice in Angela’s eyes was malign. “That son of a bitch has a thing for teenager boys. I’m going to give you all the nasty dirty details and you, my dear are going to make sure he never sees the light of day again.”

Six weeks later a jury of his peers convicted Mayor Daniel Franklin Ford to forty years in prison. His high priced lawyer immediately filed an appeal. Mrs. Angela Ford sat in the court room day after day in her beautiful suits; her manicured hands grasped tightly in her lap and never shed a tear.

Before he left the court room after the verdict, Mayor Ford was handed divorce papers by his wife’s high-priced lawyer. His shocked eyes met hers and she blew him a kiss.

For more fun with three words, take a short jaunt over to 3WW to read more.