In November of 2019, I laid aside my work on Rose’s story. The story that I want to tell is so different from the narrative that is appearing on the written page. And I have started this particular tale over countless times, trying to hone in on the right path, all to no avail. So, rather than tossing Rose on the scrapheap, I have set her aside. To work on a Shiny New Idea.Continue reading
It’s Week 4 of the 100-words-per-week Serial Novel (which is technically Flash Fiction) story I’ve been working on in the Writing Forum Exercises I participate in. This week, we addressed the Climax and Resolution of the story typically found in Act III of a 3-Act format and the six prompts to work into the narrative were: Invitation, Lantern, Twisted, Grainy, Falls, and Greedy.
If you recall from earlier in our story…Continue reading
Sometimes, when words are hard to find, my writing group plays a little game. We spin for prompts, which are just words or phrases that have been plucked from various sources and added to a numbered list, and then see what we can write that includes one or all of the prompts.
Occasionally, the resulting scene is actually relevant to the work-in-progress; other times it just serves to open the floodgates and remind you that you can still write.
Regardless of outcome, the games are always fun. And writing is supposed to be that, isn’t it!Continue reading
Although not many of you played, I should, in all fairness, give the answers to the recent Pop Quiz. Continue reading
Memorial Day weekend is upon us. And chances are your plans involve an adult beverage. Or two.
If that’s the case, how about taking a moment or two to thank the resourceful bootleggers of the 1920s for the cocktail that you’re mixing. After all, it’s because of them, and the fact that their alcohol was often sub-par and bitter, that cocktails became trendy in the first place.
I’ll wait while you get your Gin Rickey ready…
1920s Gin Rickey
Squeeze the juice of one-half lime into a highball glass, then drop the lime shell in the glass. Add two ounces gin, then fill with ice. Top with the sparkling mineral water and stir.
*if you want to make your rickey a bit more patriotic, add a few blueberries and swap out the decorative mint for a flag
Okay. Everybody ready? Rickey’s up… and Cheers! Have a great Memorial Day weekend.
A little cow humor
Harold finds this hysterical. But then, humor was much simpler in 1930.
You say tomato…
And Rose says “Pancakes.” Or is it Hotcakes?
Seriously. I need to know.
Rose was cooking Harold breakfast, which is a chore for her, given she’s a pretty bad cook, when she was stopped dead in her tracks by a very indecisive writer.
Would Rose say pancakes or hotcakes? Which phrase reads rural Nebraska in 1930?
That was several hours ago. Since then, I’ve been searching the internet for an answer.
Instead, I’ve found out that pancakes have been around since the 15th century, although back then they made them with mincemeat. Ewww!
And, that in addition to pancake or hotcake, there are also flapjacks, flannel cakes, slapjacks, griddle cakes, and johnny cakes.
I even found a delicious recipe for Oatmeal Pancakes here, that I stopped and made. And they were YUMMMM!
But I still don’t know if Rose would say pancakes or hotcakes?
What do you call them? Include where you grew up and I’ll post a map showing the regional preferences.
First Meetings (part 2)
If you recall, Rose and I have been talking about how she and Harold first met—an exercise suggested to me by the editor that heard my story pitch. When we left Rose last time, she had stopped mid-story for a glass of lemonade.
I don’t know about you, but the wait has been excruciating.
Finally, I’ve pinned her down for more…
After some coffee—strong, because that’s what Rose thought I meant when I said something “stronger”—we settle on the porch swing. The sun is low on the horizon and I’m wishing I’d brought a sweater with me. Evenings get chilly in a hurry this time of year.
ROSE: Now, where were we?
TM: You had just found yourself face to face with—
ROSE: Oh, yes! Well, I wasn’t sure what I was face to face with. This… thing… covered in muck and blood stood outside a dilapidated shed. Continue reading
A Rose by any other name…
Have you been wondering about the picture that shows when I post new content? It’s a picture of Rose, or more accurately, how I imagine Rose. I found the original picture while looking for 1929 fashion examples.
The image doesn’t look much like a farmer’s wife, and I guess that’s the point. This woman is sophisticated without being haughty, and very much a product of an urban upbringing. I mean, can you imagine trying to keep that hairstyle just-so while slopping the pigs? Or mucking with the laundry?
What kind of things do you think would be a challenge for a city girl on a farm? Give me some ideas in the comments below; maybe I can use one of them for a new scene.
PS: The “sketch”-y version of this picture was made using the SketchGuru app. It’s a lot of fun to play with.