The Insecure Writer's Support Group-February 2022

 

It's the first Wednesday of the month, and that means it's time to convene another meeting of The Insecure Writer's Support Group. Our host Alex J. Cavanaugh has gathered a wonderful bunch of co-hosts for this month: Joylene Nowell Butler, Jacqui Murray, Sandra Cox, and Lee Lowery.

Be sure to check out the IWSG website to find lots of writerly resources!

The question for this month is: Is there someone who supported or influenced you that perhaps isn't around anymore? Anyone you miss?

Both of my parents are gone now. They were definitely the first to influence my desire to be a writer. Reading and writing were a part of my home since I can remember. Growing up, our shelves were filled with books. My parents usually had a book they would read during quiet moments after a long day of work. My mom also liked to write stories in her spare time.

I saw those books, and I thought whoever made them must have had super powers. The idea of creating those complex worlds and characters on the page seemed beyond comprehension, but I wanted to harness that power for myself if I could.

When I started scribbling my first stories on the page, my parents encouraged me. They would ask about what I was writing. When I told them that I wanted to write novels someday, they accepted that as a perfectly fine answer. I've heard so many stories of children being pushed away from creative endeavors by their parents. I was fortunate this was never the case for me.

My parents might both be gone now, but I still carry that legacy with me.

Who influenced and encouraged you?

The Insecure Writer's Support Group-January 2022

 

It's the first Wednesday of the month, and that means it's time to convene another meeting of The Insecure Writer's Support Group! Our leader Alex J. Cavanaugh has recruited another wonderful bunch of co-hosts for this month: Erika Beebe, Olga Godim, Sandra Cox, Sarah Foster, and Chemist Ken.

Be sure to follow the IWSG website for great writing advice! The winners of the latest anthology contest are also being announced today, so be sure to check that out!

Rather than answer the optional question for today, I'd like to talk instead about resolutions. Yeah, I know, talking about resolutions in January isn't original, but it can still be quite helpful.

Some of you may have noticed that I haven't posted as part of IWSG for a little while. I wouldn't be lying by saying I've been busy. My kids and various other things have kept me quite busy. 

One thing I've been trying to do is lose weight and get back into shape. So far I've lost a little more than twenty pounds. I still have quite a way to go before I hit my goal, but I feel like that's a good start. Between focusing on that goal and juggling life with my kids, I've let my focus on my writing slip. Maybe it's easier to take the quiet moments I do find and use them to relax rather than motivate myself to put words on the page. Not that there's anything wrong with taking some quiet time, but I need to do a better job with how I manage that time. I need to motivate myself to get writing again.

So those are my resolutions. Continue improving my physical health, and carve out the time to write more. I know I can do it. It's just a matter of making it happen. Writing this post is one way of holding myself accountable and making things happen in 2022.

Have you made any resolutions for yourself?

WEP December Challenge-Narcissus

Happy December! It's time for the final Write...Edit...Publish challenge of the year. That means the year of art is coming to an end, and we're closing it out with NARCISSUS. 

It sure has been a fun year. A lot of you seemed to enjoy drawing inspiration from famous works of art. It wasn't always an easy task, but we saw some amazing entries! Next year, we're doing a year of music, and I'm confident we'll find plenty of inspiration with that as well.

The piece is want to share with you today is related to the novel I'm currently writing. The character here isn't a POV character in the book, but I thought it would be fun to get into his head and write something from his perspective for this month's prompt. I hope you enjoy!

Adoration

Tagline: Some people require adoration and total obedience.

 

The mirror revealed perfectly styled dark hair and piercing blue eyes. Dorian smiled and appreciated the change in his reflection. He adjusted the collar of his navy blue shirt.

“Go out there and wow them all,” he told himself. “They already look up to you. Now it’s time to make them love you.”

His group of followers started out small, but it had been steadily growing week to week. Word of mouth spread rapidly amongst the desperate. He fed them hope until they were fit to burst. He promised them all a better life, so long as they lived the lifestyle he prescribed to them.

A knock on the door pulled Dorian from his thoughts. He turned to see Trella’s shy smile. The girl was barely twenty, and when he’d first met her, she had been filled to the brim with frustration and resigned to her circumstances. She’d utterly transformed in the last few weeks. A light shone in her eyes that hadn’t been there before.

“Everyone’s getting anxious out there,” she said, her voice soft. She was in awe of him. That awe radiated out of every pore. She would do almost anything he asked. He’d wager his reputation on it. Given a little more time, she would be completely under his control.

What’s in store for you? he wondered. What purpose will you serve?

“I’d better get out there, then,” he said aloud.

Trella’s smile grew. “Good luck out there.” She paused a moment before adding, “Not that you need it.”

Dorian returned the smile. He didn’t need luck. He needed devotion, and if this girl was any indication, he didn’t need to worry at all. “I’ll see you afterwards.”

When he exited the room, he made sure to brush gently against her shoulder as he moved past. A surge of satisfaction welled up within him as Trella’s cheeks reddened in response.

It was only a short stroll down a narrow corridor before he reached the stage entrance. The sounds of the people swelled to greet him as he approached. They couldn’t see him yet, but the anticipation in the air felt electric. He breathed deep and relished in the feeling.

A few steps more took him around the corner and onto the stage.

Instead of increasing in volume, the murmurs of the audience fell away, resulting in dead silence. Each pair of eyes in the room came to bear upon him. Backs straightened. Faces turned up. Every person in the room was on the edge of their seat, waiting eagerly to hear what Dorian had to say.

It would be rude to keep them waiting.

The lights beamed down on Dorian, creating a cone of illumination around his body. He held his arms out and tilted his head slightly upward. “Welcome. I’m so glad to see so many of you here,” he began.

He lowered his gaze so he could get a good view of the people who filled the room. There weren’t enough seats for them all, so many stood against the walls. He’d need to rent out a larger room for the next gathering.

See me. Love me. Trust me.

Dorian didn’t speak the commands, but he didn’t need to. The audience was already obeying him. He felt it in the energy of the room. No one moved a muscle as they waited for him to continue.

“I’ve been telling you all along that change will not come easy. I will never lie to you, no matter how much simpler that would be for me. So many have lied to you your entire lives, and you all deserve so much better than that. I’m so glad to see all of you still here, so willing to do all it takes to succeed. I even see some new faces tonight. That’s wonderful.” A clip-on microphone carried his words effortlessly over the people assembled before him. “I will shelter you when you need it. I will do whatever I can to build you up into the most powerful people you can be. Those you love may look down on you now. They may think you’ve lost your minds. From their perspectives, they see a stranger who doesn’t know your way of life. They probably think I’m selling you a bag of goods that can’t possibly be real. When they talk badly about me and the changes you’re making in your lives, they genuinely feel as though they’re doing the right thing. They think they’re saving you.” Dorian laughed. “They couldn’t be more wrong.”

Only I can save you. Only I can make you happy.

“If you follow my regimen, it’s only a matter of time before they see how mistaken they’ve been. By eating the right foods, doing the right exercises, and removing yourself from toxic family and friend relationships, you can ascend to something greater.”

Leave everything else behind. Follow me. Worship me.

“Are you ready to walk away from the old and embrace the new?”

The applause was thunderous. People cheered and called his name. He closed his eyes and let the waves of adoration wash over him.

This is where I’m supposed to be. I have the power to shape people the way I want them. They're mine.

Word Count: 874

FCA

WEP October Challenge: The Scream

It's October, and that means it's time for another WEP challenge. This month's challenge is inspired by another famous piece of art, THE SCREAM. Perfectly suited to this time of year, I think.

This time around, we're asking members to try their hand at writing their own taglines for their entries. You can find mine at the end of the post.

Here's my entry. I hope you enjoy it!

Cries in the Night

 

I jolted upward, cloth constricting me as I struggled to sit up. My heart raced as I cast my eyes desperately around me, the inky darkness making it impossible to see.

 

Nothing was familiar. I’d been asleep, but I wasn’t in my bedroom. My breath caught in my throat as I struggled to make sense of anything.

 

“What was that?”

 

The words, spoken directly into my ear, nearly sent me flying out of my skin. It took a moment to process and recognize it. “Vanessa?”

 

“Of course it’s me. Who else would be in here with you?”

 

That’s when it all fell back into place. I was in a tent with my best friend, my body trapped in a sleeping bag. We’d chosen to go camping together so we could get some time away from our families for a couple of days. Having turned freshly eighteen, we were both technically adults, but living at home meant we still had to follow other people’s rules. It was nice to get out on our own for a little while.

 

At least in theory. A panicked late-night awakening hadn’t been a part of my plans. “Yeah. Sorry. Forgot where I was for a minute.” I ran my hands through my sweat-soaked hair.

 

As my breathing returned to normal, I turned my attention to Vanessa. My eyes were adjusting somewhat to the darkness, so I could distinguish the ghostly outline of her face. Her eyes were wide, and her shoulders were as tense as I’d ever seen them.

 

“What’s wrong?” I asked.

 

Vanessa’s mouth dropped. “I heard something. For crying out loud, it woke you up!” Her words came out like a harsh whisper, urgent and incredulous.

 

A noise had woken me, then. That made sense, though I failed to recall it. “What was it?”

 

Vanessa bit her lower lip. “It sounded like a scream.”

 

My body froze. Surely a scream hadn’t wrested me from my slumber. We were pretty deep into the woods. It took the entire day to hike out to our campsite. There shouldn’t have been another soul for miles.

 

I’d almost convinced myself that Vanessa had been mistaken when it came again.

 

“Help! Somebody help me!” The scream tore through the night like a blade.

 

It was a woman’s voice, and the terror in her plea sent my heart racing again. She sounded breathless, like she was running for her life. Was someone or something chasing her? How nearby was she? Her voice sounded too close for comfort.

 

Vanessa cursed under her breath. 

 

“What do we do?” I asked, scarcely loud enough for her to hear.

 

For a brief moment, I thought of movies where the heroes ran into the line of fire and saved the day. People who risked their lives to save others in distress. Part of me wished to be that kind of person, but the larger part of me was too terrified to budge from my spot.

 

Vanessa seemed to be of a similar mind. She put a finger to her lips, pleading for me to remain silent. Meeting her eyes, I could read her thoughts so clearly they felt like my own. We were unarmed. If we went out there to confront the unknown danger, we could easily end up running for our own lives.

 

“Help!”

 

I sucked in my breath. That was definitely closer. Vanessa and I stared at one another, both of us coming to the same realization. We were in danger. I thought of the campfire we’d lit outside. It was down to embers when we turned in for the night. Would someone see it? Would the screaming woman see our campsite and seek help from us? Would the person or animal pursuing her see it?

 

Part of me wished I could huddle in my sleeping bag and hide myself from the world. Another longed to run. I dared do neither for fear of making a sound.

 

Several long moments passed as we both strained to hear. The snapping of twigs and crunch of underbrush was audible by that point.

 

Don’t come this way. Please don’t come this way. My silent recitations played on a loop in my mind as I waited for disaster to strike.

 

Then the sounds of fleeing footsteps began to fade, and the next strangled cry was more distant than the last.

 

Vanessa and I waited in silent terror until long after the screaming had stopped.

*     *     *

 

Three weeks later, a couple out on a walk stumbled across the body of a woman. She’d been stabbed more than thirty times and her head had been severed. The location was less than an eighth of a mile from where Vanessa and I had been camping.

 

My blood ran cold when I saw the news reports. I wanted to reach for my phone to call Vanessa, but I couldn’t move. That was the screaming woman. It had to be. What was her name? Who killed her, and why? Could we have possibly intervened and saved her, or would an attempt have merely gotten us killed too?

 

I imagined being in her shoes, fleeing for my life, alone and afraid, while two people hid away nearby, too scared to do anything but wait until it was all over.

 

My hands began to shake violently, and I barely made it to the bathroom before the nausea overtook me.

Word Count: 896

FCA

Now here's my tagline: Two girls, alone in the woods, face the choice to help or hide when an unexpected danger approaches.

Have a great October everyone!

The Insecure Writer's Support Group-September 2021

 

It's the first Wednesday of the month, and that means it's time for another meeting of The Insecure Writer's Support Group. Our leader Alex J. Cavanaugh has assembled a great group of co-hosts: Rebecca Douglass, T. Powell Coltrin @ Journaling Woman, Natalie Aguirre, Karen Lynn, and C. Lee McKenzie.

Be sure to check out the IWSG website for great advice for writers!

The optional question for this month is: How do you define success as a writer? Is it holding your book in your hand? Having a short story published? Making a certain amount of income from your writing?

For me, success depends on how the rest of my life is going. When things in my normal everyday life are chaotic and busy, success is getting words on the page. That was especially true over the summer when my kids were out of school.

Now that life is settling back into a normal routine, success would be finishing the novel that I'm currently working on, as well as getting a short story published again sometime in the near future. I'm really hoping I can get that done.

What does success look like to you?

WEP August 2021-Freedom of Speech

 

Hello everyone! It's time for another WEP Challenge. This is a special one, because Jemi Fraser, a valued WEP participant, has joined the WEP team as an admin! Please give her a warm welcome!

If you would like to join us this month, stop by this month's post to sign up!

Here is my entry. I hope you enjoy!

Unapproved

Camina’s heart thudded in her ears as she placed the paper on the lectern. The familiar words stared back at her, all pre-approved by both the principal and vice principal. The entire thing was reminiscent of all the graduation speeches that had come before. Both forward-looking and nostalgic. Poetic words about the opportunities that lay ahead of them all.

Graduation was supposed to be an occasion for all of them to celebrate and reflect. Camina’s best friend Sunny should have been there too, but she wasn’t allowed to walk the stage.

Her heavy breathing was amplified by the microphone and transmitted to the entire crowd. The hot gymnasium lights glaring down on her sent rivulets of sweat down her back. She waited for a couple moments before addressing the crowd. “Hello, Class of 2021. We made it this far. We got through mountains of homework and a global pandemic to be here today. It didn’t always feel possible. We should all be proud of ourselves.”

Camina paused to take in another deep breath. Was she really about to do this?

“There are many things to love about this school,” she continued, trying to hold her voice steady. She swallowed hard, but the lump in her throat refused to budge. She could only push the words out around it and hope they weren’t too strangled to be understood. “Wonderful teachers. Great classmates. A gorgeous campus. Our school has a lot to be proud of, and as I prepare to walk away from this institution, I want to remember everything.”

One quick motion of her hand pulled a folded piece of paper from her pants pocket, previously rendered invisible by her flowing robe. She held it there in her palm for a long moment, keeping it hidden behind the podium. As long as it remained there, concealed from sight, she hadn’t done anything irreversible. Thus far, she had yet to deviate from her pre-approved remarks. She could continue with that sanitized, run-of-the-mill speech and go on with her life.

Then she pictured Sunny sitting at home in her room when she should have been there. The injustice of it made her blood boil in her veins. Someone needed to stand up for what was right. No one had listened to her earlier protests, but they would have no choice but to listen now.

“That includes the good and the bad. No school is perfect. Speeches like this are only supposed to focus on the good, though. It may be an unwritten rule, but that doesn’t mean it isn’t enforced.” She swept her eyes across the audience, seeing a few curious expressions scattered throughout.

“When I found out I would be giving a speech today, I was told I would have to submit it for approval. No big deal, right? It’s a graduation speech. It’s easy enough to write something inoffensive that fits the bill. And it was. I wrote a bland speech that passed with flying colors. Every word of it was hollow and meant nothing to me, because the real things I wanted to say would never have made the cut.”

A low murmur rumbled through the crowd. Camina dared a quick glance over toward the teachers and various staff seated in the front row. Most of them leaned forward in their seats, curious to see where this was going.

The principal had gone red in the face.

“I want to talk a bit about Sunny Masterson. She should have been giving the speech. She’s the rightful valedictorian, after all. I came in second. Nothing to be ashamed of there. Sunny is brilliant. All of us know it. She earned the right to be on this stage, accepting her diploma. So why isn’t she here? Most of you probably don’t know, so I’ll tell you.

“Sunny got straight A’s. Most years, she was also involved in lots of extracurriculars. This year was a bit more of a struggle. Her mom has been sick a lot over the last several months, and she’s needed people to help her around the house. There were days when it made the most sense for Sunny to stay home from school to take care of her. Her grades never suffered, though. She arranged to get her homework each day and kept up with all of it. You would think Sunny would be rewarded for her dedication, wouldn’t you?”

A hollow laugh escaped Camina’s lips. “Instead, Sunny was pulled aside last week and informed that she had simply missed too many days. Three too many, in fact. Miss too many days, you don’t get to walk at graduation. Doesn’t matter what your grades look like. Nope. She’ll still get her diploma, but she won’t have the memory of being here with all of us. The thing is, Sunny doesn’t regret anything. She’s sad she can’t be here, but she wouldn’t change it. If you ask me, that makes it all so much worse. She’s brilliant and selfless and the exact kind of person who should be here right now. I get that rules are rules, but we also have human judgment. Surely someone could have looked at the situation and seen that an exception could be made.”

Camina dared make eye contact with the principal once more. He trembled with rage. There were going to be consequences for this. Would the school try to withhold her diploma? She would find out soon enough.

“You should have let Sunny walk the stage and give her speech. I can guarantee you would have been much more pleased by her words than you are with mine.” Then Camina spun on her heel and moved to descend the stairs, leaving both of her printouts behind on the lectern.

She could hear the distant sounds of people clapping and cheering. Most of her classmates were on their feet. So she wasn’t the only one who felt this way. 

Whatever the fallout, Camina had said what she needed to say.

Word Count: 1,000

FCA

Be sure to check out the other entries!

The Insecure Writer's Support Group-August 2021

 

It's the first Wednesday of the month, and that means it's time for another meeting of The Insecure Writer's Support Group. Our leader Alex J. Cavanaugh has a great group of co-hosts for this month: PK Hrezo, Cathrina Constantine, PJ Colando, Kim Lajevardi, and Sandra Cox.

Be sure to check out the IWSG website for great writing resources!

The optional question for this month is: What is your favorite writing craft book? Think of a book that every time you read it you learn something or you are inspired to write or try the new technique. And why?

I've read a lot of great craft books over the years. If I find one I love, I keep it on my shelf and refer back to it often. The one I've been consulting the most as of late has been Save the Cat! Writes a Novel by Jessica Brody. It takes the great advice from the original Save the Cat!, which is focused on screenwriting, and adapts it to novel writing.

This book looks a lot at various types of stories, story structure, and how structure helps to create a compelling narrative. It also breaks down many popular novels beat by beat, so it's easy to understand. I think this book has definitely helped me in my own writing.

What craft books do you love?