Monthly Archives: April 2017

Fan-girling!

Writing Life, , , ,

I’m taking a little break from flash fiction to share my new favorite author (my list is growing!). She’s SadeqaJohnson and her newest novel “and then there was me” (yes, the title has no caps, because she knows the rules and she can break them) came out in April.

Feeling frustrated with my agent search, I initiated my strategy to be published by St. Martin’s Press, the publisher of my favorite authors Diane Chamberlain, Mary Kay Andrews, Lisa Scottoline, and Sarah Addison Allen. The first step in my action plan was to go to Sadeqa Johnson’s book reading.

Am I glad I went! She read from her two St. Martin’s Press books, the other being “second house from the corner.” She is a great speaker, articulate and funny, and she’s a warm person who feels genuine. She offered me so much encouragement.

I bought both books and took photos — see ^^ above.

Here is her website: http://www.sadeqajohnson.net/

They can’t hurt us, right?

Flash Fiction Friday, , , , ,
They’re the shadows that you see out of the corner of your eye, the shadows you ignore, the shadows you call “floaters” when you hit middle age. It’s true they float, as they haven’t a corporeal body to anchor them. They float. They glide. They whoosh overhead when you look down. They slink close and tickle the hairs on the back of your neck. Many people learn to become blind to them, just as we become blind to seeing our nose so that it’s not a constant distraction. After all, they can’t hurt us.
 
Right?
 
“I don’t know how I fell down the stairs. It seemed to just happen. I would blame the cat, but I don’t have a cat.”
 
“I swear I heard a buzzing in the car. You know I’m allergic to bees. I told the officer I’m allergic to bees.”
 
“Her last words were, ‘Oh my god, a spider just crawled down the back of my shirt.'”
 
Right?

Puppy Trouble

Flash Fiction Friday, , , ,

“What time is it?” I asked my husband as I stared at the ceiling in the darkness toward the barking that woke me.

Again.

“4:47,” he responded in a growl.

“Do you know who lives upstairs?”

“No. What should we do?”

I sighed.

“I don’t know.” Thoughts of vicious reactions to requests to quiet the dog ran through my head, most of them mistreatment of the dog, which is what would keep me quietly seething.

We got up and had breakfast. Then I snored on the couch while he got dressed for work. I heard him on his computer after and only got up to kiss him goodbye. The dog had quit barking ten minutes after we decided to get up and start our day early.

I went to the endodontist for my root canal, ate lunch (soup) with the hubby, and bought groceries. We were off schedule on grocery shopping since arriving five hours late on the return train the previous evening from our family visit five states away. The delay and the dog dragged us both down into fatigue. Fortunately, I could nap after shopping.

Only the dog whined intermittently throughout the afternoon.

Just enough to wake me.

Our friend, and neighbor, texted that she would be down at 6 to return our key (for feeding the cats in our absence). It was not her who knocked on our door at 6, but our upstairs neighbor with her puppy, a black Lab with white toes, exuding excessive cuteness.

“Hi. My name is Karen, and this is Trouble. We changed it from Emily. We just got her a week ago and I want to apologize for her barking. She’s in training. We got the clicker and everything. She barks at night in her crate, but the vet said to let her bark, so she knows we won’t come just because she barks.”

“She’s a baby. She’s so cute,” I tell this woman who is treating her dog like an object. I offer to pet sit gratis while she works, but she informs me that they’ve already hired a dog walker.

She repeats her apology. I let her know we weren’t home the week before, which doesn’t seem to lessen her anxiety. I repeat my offer and she politely agrees to a future playdate that will never happen.

When my friend comes down the hall, I tell Karen, “I hope she earns her name back soon. She’s just a baby,” thankful for the reprieve before I say something too judgy to this woman who seemingly fails to understand that she has a baby in her home. My husband continues to speak with her as I invite my friend into our home.

Trouble.

With a capital T.

Her name should be

Emily.

For she is only

A baby.