Two Tags and a Rant

Howdy, folks!

This is kind of another one of those "move along, nothing to see here" kinds of posts...but not quite.

Still having a busy, busy, busy week, and it's only going to get worse. But I wanted to acknowledge that I've been tagged for two MeMes, and also express a slight rant.

Thanks to Siani for tagging me in a link love MeMe. I'll get my own version up with a new link ASAP. Always nice to spread the love!

Thanks also to "Twinkle Mom" for tagging me for "Six non-important things/habits/quirks" MeMe - sounds like fun and it'll definitely get the juices flowing in my brain.

And now, a slight rant.

So...my last post was about entering Nathan Bransford's Surprisingly Essential First Page Challenge. In my post, I mention that a few other bloggers have joined in the fun and were also offering critiques of the entries.

Well...it seems a few delicate writers got their knickers in a knot and raised a holy fuss. "How dare random people critique me when I've publicly posted my content."

Get real, dude. First, if you're looking to write solely for your own pleasure, keep your notes in your diary and don't share it around. If it gets posted to the web, it's considered public content. Period. That doesn't mean people can steal it, but it DOES mean the people can offer their own opinions.

Second, if you only want "nice" feedback from people who love you, go share your drivel with your mother. If you want REAL feedback, you're going to have to accept that CRITICISM FROM UNBIASED PARTIES IS ESSENTIAL TO DEVELOPMENT.

And finally, if you can't take feedback from a few well-intentioned folks trying to ensure that every contest entry got it's 15 seconds of fame, you will never do well with exposing your work to the general public - AKA, seeking publications.

People so annoy me sometimes.

Nathan Bransford's Surprisingly Essential First Page Challenge

Hoo-boy.

So many of you have probably seen my link to Nathan Bransford's blog, because I consider it essential reading for the unpublished writer. I read it daily - or as often as he updates - but am mostly a lurker. I've commented once or twice...but that's it.

So today...I took a big plunge. Nathan, a literary agent, opened a contest looking for up-to-500-word submissions of your manuscript's first page. He and an apparently insanely adventurous friend of his will be reviewing all of the entries and choosing nominees for readers of his blog to vote upon. If you win, you can get a query critique, partial critique, 10-minute phone call, or a book published by one of his clients. Cool stuff!

For all of you other writer-types that I so love, go visit. Enter. We'll all drive Nathan crazy together!

Oh, and several of his loyal readers are also giving feedback for some of the entries on their blogs - since I'm linking the heck out of this post already, go on ahead and also visit Josephine, Chro, and Jen.

After debating, and re-reading the first 500 words from each of my 5 works in progress, I decided to go on ahead and stop being a scaredy cat and enter. Which one did I pick?

DNA - the WIP that I started with all sorts of good intentions for NaNo 2007 and then didn't get very far with because work and life just, well, got busy again. Still love the story - just haven't gotten very far with it yet. But...I think it had the most compelling first 500 words - actually 475, which is the entire prologue.

Now here's the *headdesk* part - I haven't shown these 475 words to anyone else. Anyone. Not even my husband, who originally had the idea that started this story. Why in the WORLD would I submit something that NO ONE else has ever given me feedback on? I guess I'm just feeling adventuous. And hey, I do it on short story contests all the time and have won my fair share of those, so fingers crossed, right?

Anyhow, for your reading pleasure, here is a copy/paste of what I just posted on Nathan's blog. ANY feedback is appreciated.

***

DNA - Suspense/Thriller - WIP

This 475-word SEFPC entry is the prologue to a work-in-progress that pits a calculating killer against a police officer who stands accused of the other’s crimes through a cleverly orchestrated case of mistaken identity. When the officer launches a personal investigation not only to clear his name but track the ruthless murderer, he is exposed to the murky world of governmental covert operations and scientific experimentation that is straight out of the twilight zone. When his scrutiny comes too close to exposing secrets so long and carefully buried, it becomes a race against time to catch the killer…before the killer catches him. The WIP offers back and forth POVs between the cop and the killer, and this prologue is the reader’s first look at the birth of evil.

Prologue

Walking down a street that was at once familiar and strange, he paused to reflect upon his mission, willing his body temperature to adapt to the cool of the night while mentally slowing his pulse to a level indicating relaxation. Tonight, of all nights, was about timing. A new mission always dictated new directives, and the directive he’d formulated called for swift calculation and rapid actions unhindered by remorse. The journey to this night had been long, but the payoff would overcome the pain.

Arriving at a darkened intersection, he paused only briefly before turning down the dark alley to the left. Drawing closer to the end of the narrow passage bound on three sides by high brick buildings, the ambient noises of the street left behind faded and were replaced by an incessant drip that echoed in the tight space. He glanced around to see the source of the watery sound, but none was apparent.

Following the instructions of his own directive for this operation, he leaned his trim and powerful body against the building that bound the area from the east. Withdrawing a lighter and cigarette from the interior pocket of his blazer, he lit up, slowly inhaling and exhaling. It was nearly time to begin, and his cat-like senses strained to hear the thud of approaching steps.

At last, the other had arrived.

He watched as the other came slowly towards him. This new beginning, so delicately intertwined to the final ending for the other, was invigorating.

Deep in thought, continuously reviewing the details of his plan within his own head, he allowed the other to wait for him to speak first. After an interminable pause, he was finally ready to communicate.

***

The knife slashed strikingly, reflecting the gentle glow of the alley’s one light. With each motion, a hissing noise seemed to become the voice of the implement. Communication.

Communication and death.

Muscle was parted from ligament, organs exposed to the elements.

Humming under his breath, his movements held the confidence of a surgeon, the conviction of a preacher and the calculation of a mercenary.

A new mission, begun.

***

He paused to light another cigarette, his third in the past half hour. Butts had been dropped, unceremoniously, beside the body of the other. The metallic smell of blood filled his mouth, his nose, even his eyes with involuntary tears caused by the spreading maroon pool.

Glancing again around the alley, now bathed entirely in shadows, he discarded his latest cigarette and reflected on the scene before his eyes.

In the war, operations had been conducted from remote locations, without the psychologically satisfying benefit of mano a mano contact.

Tonight was different. The war was his own. The operation simple. The payoff would continue for years to come.

The prize, after all, was his own life, his future, his identity.

His DNA.

Thank you for considering my entry!

Short Story: Hidden Intent

Instead of linking to WDC for the conclusion of this story, it is reprinted here in its entirety, so that I can use this entry for the February Creative Carnival hosted by Write Stuff! Comments/critiques/feedback are appreciated!

Hidden Intent

Dawn’s light crept into the peaceful bedroom in the corner of the house. Joy blinked rapidly to clear the sleep from her eyes and slowly propped herself up in the plush bed she shared with her husband, Jonathan. Twisting her head to say good morning, she noticed that his side of the bed remained smooth; untouched. It appeared he hadn’t slept here yet again, but Joy was not awake enough to summon the now-common anger at his absence.

She stood, stretching towards the rays of light emanating from the windows that consumed three walls of their large bedroom. Making her way to the bathroom to prepare for the long day ahead, she languorously pushed her long brunette hair from her face. There were so many plans she still needed to finalize. Jonathan had grown so distant, so remote; Joy knew that she needed to take drastic actions to show him the effect he had on her.

Through years of marriage, they’d shared everything – no secrets were kept, no arguments endured, no break in their mutual beliefs of true love. This past year, however, had brought a drastic change. They hadn’t argued, but Jonathan continued to drift farther away.

Time rapidly passed, as the day charged forward from sunrise to sunset. Standing hidden behind the elegant folding doors that led to the dining room, Joy thought of all of the preparations she’d undertaken to get to this point today. Nothing could go wrong now – she’d come too far and there was no turning back. She clutched the sharp knife so tightly behind her back that her palm was growing sweaty. With a tremendous effort, she composed herself mentally and willed her face to remain passive and body to remain calm.

Jonathan sat with his late afternoon cup of tea, engrossed in the latest issue of the Wall Street Journal. Each day, he rose early in the morning to leave, returning each afternoon to unwind from a busy day. The details of this time away were never shared with Joy anymore, although they’d once discussed everything. It was only by chance that she’d stumbled upon what now occupied his time away from their remote country estate. Wouldn’t he be surprised when she revealed herself in just a few moments?

Renewing her grip on the knife, Joy heard rustling behind her, but ignored the distraction. Counting silently to herself, she waited until ten to move forward, pushing through the doorway and into the dining room. Joy whipped her arm swiftly from behind her back to reveal the hidden knife as Jonathan looked up in surprise.

“Darling…?” He managed before the motion of her arm took his breath away.

“Surprise! Happy Birthday!” The shout came from the friends who poured through the door.

Joy set the knife upon the rolling cart that carried a sheet cake commemorating Jonathan’s birthday and moved to her husband’s side.

“I really got you, baby, didn’t I?” She asked. “You’ve been avoiding me so often that I was starting to think you had secrets going on behind my back. When I found out that you really did, I decided it was time to take actions of my own.”

“Wha-what are you talking about?” Jonathan sounded confused.

“Let’s just say: gotcha! Once I realized that you were busy making plans to sell the company so you could have more free time, I knew I needed to show you how I feel.”

“I don’t know what to say. You weren’t supposed to find out until it was a done deal.” Jonathan stood as friends crowded around to share good wishes.

Joy began slicing and serving Jonathan’s special cake. She passed around plates to the people who had joined her and her husband on this momentous day.

“That isn’t all I learned, baby. I learned far more. About you…and about our friends.” Joy’s voice grew louder as she addressed the group.

“Sweetheart, I don’t know what to say. We have terrific friends,” Jonathan said, taking his seat as their friends took others around the large table.

“Yes, darling. You do. They’ve even helped to shield you in these past months when they knew you were planning your new life without me.”

“Darling, you know I wouldn’t do that.” Jonathan took a large bit of his cake.

“Do I? I also know about Debbie, and I know that the plane tickets you’ve booked for next week are with her, not me.”

The guests, and Jonathan, slowly lowered their forks to their plates as Joy continued her accusations.

“I also know that Danny, here, has agreed to let you and Debbie use his coast house until you could get rid of me. And I know that Clair and Chris helped you prepare the paperwork to cast me off without a dime. So yes, Jonathan, you truly have wonderful friends. By the way, friends…how’s the cake?”

Walking around the table, Joy watched passively as faces turned red and choking commenced.

“Joy…Joy. What have you done?” Jonathan’s voice was strained as he tried to bring air into his lungs.

“Oh, nothing, darling. Simply made plans of my own. Without you. Without any of you.” Joy’s voice regained its prior calm as she watched her guests expire before her eyes.

Joy’s preparations included immunizing herself against the poison baked into the cake. Taking a bite, she knew that it would simply put her to sleep, so the police would never suspect her involvement in the death of her husband and guests. By the time she awoke, she’d be free.

Feeling the lull of the poison drawing her into darkness, she smiled at her success. Her smile turned quickly to a grimace of pain. Her chest tightened into spasms of coughing caused not by the poison she voluntarily ingested, but from the wedge of cake caught in her throat. Losing her battle for breath, she realized that although her husband had been missing from the last months of her life, they would be companions in death.

• Written for: A Picture is Worth 1000 Words Contest, Round 49


• Winner: 2nd Place


• Word Count: 999


• Original WDC Post: Hidden Intent


• Prompt: Picture depicted a woman standing behind swinging double doors, hold a knife behind her back.

Short Story: Take A Peek

Take a Peek

She stared down at the small wrapped package before her, a pleased smile gracing her face. It looked like Mark had gone all out with her present this year – the seventh year she would celebrate her birthday with him in her life. Look at the neat purple design on the wrapping paper – surely Mark had a store wrap the present – goodness knows he’s all thumbs. And the frothy purple bow! Delightfully girlish while screaming of sophistication.

Angela was nearly beside herself with anticipation. Her birthday was still seven days away and she could already feel the irresistible pull to open her present ahead of time…just take a little peek. After all, Mark hadn’t hidden the box very well – she’d found it right at the back of the very top shelf in the linen closet, underneath the never-used towels.

Okay, she admitted to herself, so the hiding place wasn’t really that obvious. But she’d still found it, and that meant it was okay to peek, right?

Right?!

Want to read more? Read the rest of the story here!

Remember - you have to be a member of WDC to read my works there, but membership is free!

• Written for: A Picture is Worth 1000 Words Contest, Round 62


• Winner: 1st Place


• Word Count: 999


• Prompt: Picture depicted a birthday theme, in honor of the birthday of the WDC web site