Inspiration from a photograph – A Prostitute of 1912

A few weeks ago, I saw a webpage with old photographs of prostitutes from 1912. They were all very interesting, but the 13th one down, of the dark-haired girl sitting with the stole wrapped around her, interested me the most. She just looks so sad. It broke my heart to see the expression on her face. Right away, I started writing a story about her, that became my short story “A Prostitute of 1912”. In my mind, I wanted to give this woman some sort of a happy ending.

It’s available on the Kindle store, and today it’s free to download: 

A Prostitute of 1912

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Farmer’s Market

Farmer’s Market is my new contemporary romance short story, now available on the Kindle Store for $0.99. I’ve found that I love writing these types of stories! The novel I’m working on is a contemporary romance (though set in 1955, it’s not a historical romance, per se), and is nearly done. For the time being, though, why don’t you check out this short story? Click the cover above to go to its page on the Kindle Store! 🙂

 

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Fun with Google Street View

I’m currently writing my second attempt at a novel and my male protagonist’s hometown is Clewiston, FL. Just for fun, I went to Google Maps and plunked the little orange guy down in a random location in Clewiston to have a look around. This image is the first thing that came up (I got confused at first then realized what it was!). How funny – what are the odds of me putting the marker down right where the Google car was beside a tanker?

I saw an elusive Google Street View car once, in Albuquerque, New Mexico about two years ago. I suppose it’s akin to seeing Bigfoot or Nessie.

 

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Adding introspection in your writing

It’s been a while since I last posted, but I’m not a natural “journal keeper” type so bear with me!

I was thinking about introspection today in fiction writing and thought I’d write a blog post about it. I’ll admit that I sometimes struggle with adding introspection in my writing. Other writers may call it something different, like internal monologue or internal dialogue, but it refers to the inner workings of a character: their thoughts, feelings, and how they react to things in the story. Introspection is one of five basic parts (so I’ve heard…) of fiction writing – the others being dialogue, action, description, and exposition. 

Introspection isn’t required in writing, but it adds depth and flavor to point of view characters by not only showing what they’re saying and doing externally, but internally as well. Something happens, and the character reacts to it. They have thoughts and feelings to be expressed! I have to keep this in mind all the time when I’m writing.

I even made a list to use to help me keep in mind ways my characters can be introspective (when appropriate – too much slows down the pace and makes the writing a little boring! No one wants to read about a character that only thinks all the time and never does anything). What I did was I took the novel I’m currently reading, American Gods by Neil Gaiman, and I went through a few chapters and anytime I encountered a sentence that had an obvious introspective tag, I wrote it down.

I’m assuming there’s many more ways of writing a character’s various inner workings but this is just an appetizer list. We’ll use a character called Beth and put her through a couple of basic internal reactions.

 

Beth realized that she had once again locked her keys in her car.

Beth wondered what her boyfriend would say when he saw her on crutches.

To Beth’s surprise, the front door was ajar when she arrived home.

Beth kept expecting the man to try to pass her, but instead he tailgated her all the way home.

Beth wished that she didn’t have to work on Christmas Eve.

Beth suspected that her boyfriend had forgotten Valentine’s Day again, and unfortunately, she was right.

It seemed to Beth that the dog wandering around her front yard was acting a little odd.

Beth hoped that she’d make it to her final exam on time.

Beth knew her boss was lazy, but to find him playing video games in the break room during their busiest hour was almost too much.

Beth thought she heard a creaking noise come from the empty guest bedroom.

Beth remembered that she left the coffee pot on – after she was already an hour down the highway.

 

I’m starting to feel a little bad for poor Beth – she just doesn’t seem to be able to catch a break! Well, those are my examples. I hope they were of some help to someone out there!

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THE CAVE, a free fantasy short story

My new short story, The Cave, is now available for free download from Smashwords!

It’s the first (first published, second written!) story set in my fantasy world, Enteya. I have a novelette, also set in the world of Enteya, currently being edited. I’m looking forward to telling more stories of my little Stone Age world! Click on the image below to go to the page where you can download a copy from Smashwords, or, click here.

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The Adventures of the Sulky Slut – Part 8

Part 8

Meanwhile, the rest of the crew had wandered off in different groups throughout the Port. After a while, Senys realized that he was no longer walking with his crewmates, but with a different (and yet oddly similar) group altogether. He turned a street corner underneath a sign that promised “Cold Beers”. As he rounded the edge of the building, he bumped into something small and round. Thinking it was an obese child, he looked down, and screamed in alarm.

The thing screamed back. “Good heavens. Pardon me, good sir,” it said. It was a small bearlike creature with weirdly marble-like eyes and tawny fur. It wore a gray vest with gold buttons, an aviator’s cap, and a monocle. It wore no pants.

“What the eff?” Senys blurted out, wide-eyed.

“My goodness. How impossibly rude.”

“Uh…” Senys looked around. “Is anyone else seeing this?” he said. A woman who was walking by looked their way, and tripped over a potted plant. Senys looked back to the small furry thing.

“My apologies for running into you, sir. Allow me to introduce myself: my name is Ostorio St. Lugamond.” He bowed.

“Why aren’t you wearing any pants?” was all Senys could say in return.

“I beg your pardon, sir, but my kind do not need to wear pants. Pants are for furless, naked things such as yourself,” Ostorio said, his voice dripping with disdain.

“Then why are you wearing a vest?”

Ostorio chuckled and adjusted his monocle. “Why, because… I… well… that is enough of your rude and silly questions. Now, I must be going. I have a space dirigible to catch,” he said with a huff, glancing at the golden pocketwatch he pulled from his breast pocket. With that, he bustled away down the street.

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The Adventures of the Sulky Slut – Part 7

Part 7

“What are your rates?” asked the grizzled old woman manning the corndog station.

“Excuse me?” Nole said, through a bite of corndog.

The woman indicated Nole’s questionably-labelled t-shirt. “What are your rates?” she asked again, this time with a crude leer. Nole gagged on his corndog, and spit out the mouthful.

“Hey!” said the waste droid nearby. His head fell dejectedly as he moved to sweep up the spat-out food.

“I don’t want to know what you were thinking, but I am the Captain of a merchant ship, madam,” Nole said with a noble tone to his voice.

“Aw… that’s a shame. I woulda paid nicely,” she said, winking.

Nole gagged again, and the woman cackled.

“Merchant ship, eh?” she said. “I used to be in that business, myself. Had the prettiest ship you ever seen. Course, that was before the war.”

“What war?”

The woman stared blankly at him for a second, then continued. “She was called the Heart’s Desire. We had many a fine run together, me and her.”

“She and I.”

“Eh?”

“Nevermind.”

“Say, you know, if you’re interested… I’ve got a business friend who’s in need of a merchant ship,” the woman said, leaning close and peering around suspiciously. Her frazzled gray hair brushed over the corndogs in front of her, and if Nole had seen, he would have gagged again.

Ever the keen businessman, Nole accepted immediately. Of course, he would normally have consulted Alena first, but under the sway of the heady scent of corndogs being made, he was like putty in the old woman’s hand.

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