Tuesday, August 19, 2014

Location, Location, Location

Greetings, y'all.

Sorry about that. I've been spending too much time in Gainesville, FL for this summer. What's in Gainesville? Not much except for the University of Florida. And a few really excellent restaurants.

One great way to keep your writing fresh is obvious. Keep writing. Write every day, write whenever you can. But how do you find the motivation to write at night after taking notes in 12 hours of meetings?

Necon Ebooks has a contest each month. They give a topic, a theme, and you give them a story in 100 words. You might remember I've mentioned them before. I've won this little contest a few times and received Honorable Mention a few times more. It's a great exercise. It's short, it's sweet. You can do it over a lunch break, or before you drop off to sleep in a lonely hotel room in Gainesville, FL.

Last month the theme was Location, Location, Location. I diligently and in the nick of time sent off a couple of my best for consideration. Alas (you know you're a writer when you can use the word "alas" and not blink an eye) I didn't place this month. I still think they were good, so I will present them to you. They follow immediately. Let me know what you think.

If you'd like to try it yourself, follow the link. Necon Ebooks
And always, thanks for reading me.

Roommate wanted. No Cats.

Sunday morning he noticed the small door in the baseboard of the guest room. Just the day before the baseboard had been clear and uninterrupted. Now, a little off from the corner, a door was carefully cut into the wood. It was so expertly crafted that it looked as if it might open at any time. The door knob even turned in his hand but the door refused to move.

"It's a fairy door," his friends said. "It's good luck."

He liked the idea and so did nothing about it. When the cat disappeared he began to wonder.

Keeping With The Exercise Program

Bob watched from his window, a cup of lukewarm tea in one hand and a piece of half-burnt toast in the other, as his car ever so slowly slipped into a sink hole at the foot of the driveway. The mailbox was next. The light post hesitated, unsure if it should follow the mailbox but relented and jumped in. The front garden disappeared followed by twelve bags of mulch Bob no longer needed. As the front walk fell in, paver by paver, Bob headed to the back door. At least he lived close enough he could walk to work.

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