A few months ago I introduced you to my beagle, Willie. He’s a rambunctious creature, stubborn and sweet—sugar and spice as they used to say. He, like most of us, has his faults, but we chalk them up to personality disorder (probably a result of feeding him table food) and move on. Continue reading
As you know, we writers of Paddle Creek, are working on a round robin story. When it came time for me to write my installment however, I got sick and have been ill for several weeks and got behind on all things writerly. I am doing much better now and have finally written the last installment of our story. Enjoy!
(Here is part 3 — written by Susan Korich. Stick around for part 4!)
Perched on the stool behind the cash register, my eyes still wide with incredulity and my mouth following along with its own version of can-you-catch-flies, it took me moment to notice a man standing at the edge of my counter, clearing his throat.
“Ah-hem, excuse me, ah-hem, um, Miss?”
Hopping off my stool, I closed my mouth, and pasted on my most professional smile and look of laser concentration. It would be bad for business for word to get around that I ignored customers and hung around staring after others. Continue reading
Part 2 of our Round Robin project, by Pat Meyers
“I actually think I am figuring this out,” I announced to Violet two days after the all-blue incident. “The first day he was in white and bought an old copy of Pride and Prejudice with a white cover. The next visit he bought a rare edition of Alice in Wonderland in a blue cover, wearing blue, driving a blue Prius.
“And this helps us figure this out, how?” Asked the impertinent Violet. Continue reading
(As we mentioned in our previous post, here we begin our round robin short story. Part 1 written by Bev …)
It seemed curious to me at the time–the stranger’s appearance simply oozed mystery and intrigue. He dressed in a stylish fashion; finely tailored suit, silk shirt, fashionable necktie, leather trench coat and wing-back shoes. But all in white. Not a smidgen of color. Except, of course, for his hair. That was candied apple red. See what I mean about curious?
It was Monday morning, and I was working at Twice Told Tales, a used bookstore in Las Vegas, Nevada. We usually attracted a t-shirt and flip-flop crowd who liked to spend their days with a Starbucks in one hand and a dog-eared copy of a Jack Kerouac book in the other. We would not be a comfortable place for the white leather trench coat group. Not exactly the immaculate environment you would expect a “Mr. Clean” to visit, if you know what I mean. Heck, I wouldn’t have expected his white convertible to even slow down as he drove by our store. Oh, did I forget to mention that he drove a white custom Chevy convertible? Continue reading
Michelle here from Paddle Creek Writers. I hope you had a wonderful Christmas season and are off to a great start in the new year. I am looking forward to what the writing year will bring; including getting my second novel out.
Many (many, many) years ago, as a bride, it began to slowly dawn on me that my life as an Air Force wife was going to be significantly different from my former life as a college student in North Dakota.
We were new to the service, living in Japan in a village just outside of Tokyo. My husband had his dream job–flying a C-130 into lands we had only heard of as kids. Our life became fairly routine, as he flew off to Bangkok or Hong Kong and I stayed behind with the other wives exploring the more exotic environment of Tachikawa village and learning the fine art of Japanese flower arranging. Continue reading
When I was young—a long looong time ago— my Mother relied on two books to raise my sister and me. The famous Dr. Spock Baby and Childcare book about raising perfect children was not one of them. Her choices were her Bible (of course) and her Bartlett’s. As in Bartlett’s Famous Quotations.
Words stringing into sentences, sentences stringing into paragraphs and paragraphs stringing into chapters. That is writing at its best, which produces a novel. What happens when the writing of words equals the backspacing of words? Writer’s blech. When I can write, I can write volumes on that. Continue reading