When The Bough Breaks

You can get my flash fiction piece When the Bough Breaks free in Heather Goodman's August Newsletter: Glimpses.

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From J.A. Konrath--How Not to Start a Short Story

I think this will have a permanent link on my front page. How Not to Start a Short Story.

I'm not getting paid big bucks to pick stories, but that doesn't mean you shouldn't listen. I feel the exact same way.

Win an Autographed Copy (all Authors) of Dark Harvest

Would you like to win a copy?

AND THE WINNER IS

BECCA!!!!

Leave a comment in this thread telling me why you want to win it --or-- what you think my story Saigon Seventeen might be about.

Want to increase your odds of winning?

I'll enter your name 5 times when you post a review of my story Saigon Seventeen on June 17, 2008.

Email me to receive your advance review copy of Saigon Seventeen here:

MLPendergrass @ gmail dot com

Warning: Read at your own risk.

This is not safe for the entire family.

Don't complain if you didn't read this.

Seventeen Days and Counting

...Until the release of Dark Harvest and my story Saigon Seventeen.

I'm actually scared to smithereens but don't tell anyone, okay?

Coach's Midnight Diner--Submissions Extended

Coach just announced Diner submissions will be extended to May 31st!

The announcement at Relief says:

Diner Subs Open Until May 31

Submisisons for Coach's Midnight Diner will remain open until May 31st. After receiving some harried emails from folks we met at Calvin ("I just found out about the Diner! My story is almost finished but not quite! Can I please have more time?!?!?") I decided to go ahead and leave it open. So go ahead and finish your Shatner on a Plane story and get it in!

Old Country-George Jones

Maybe old country music is part of the reason I'm the kind of storyteller I am?

I've been thinking a lot about the story that some songs tell. I know a lot of you think country music sucks, can you stick around for just a minute and listen to a few of my favorite old country songs? These songs are like watching a movie. Close your eyes and listen.

Here's one of my favorites. He Stopped Loving Her Today by George Jones.



He kept her pictures on his wall, went half crazy now and then. Aw, but he still loved her through it all, hoping she'd come back again.

The visual is set up, you can see his walls, you can see him drinking or slamming his fists into the walls because he misses her so much. He might have been mad and hurt, but he still loved her. And we have no clue what happened. Because the point is, it doesn't matter what happened, he still loves her.

Found love letters by his bed, dated nineteen and sixty two, he had underlined in red, every single "I love you".

I went to see my friend today, oh but I didn't see no tears. All dressed up to go away. First time I'd see him smile in years.

He stopped loving her today. They placed a wreath upon his door. Soon they'll carry him away. He stopped loving her today.



How heartbreaking. Her love letters are on his nightstand, maybe even some laying on his bed. He's broken, the man is clearly grieving the loss of this woman he has loved and still loves. He underlines in red every time she said, "I love you" in her letters. Can you imagine loving someone that much? I can. I do love someone that much. And maybe the reason I can relate to this song has more to do with the fact that I see a little of myself in this man who loves this woman so much.

Then it gets even more emotional as you find out the narrator is going to see his friend, and there are no more tears, "first time I'd seen him smile in years". The the chorus, he stopped loving her today.

What a powerful short story. Just a few sentences and you, without a doubt, know how much this man loves this woman. Today, he stopped loving her because he's dead.

You know, she came to see him one last time, we all wondered if she would. And it kept running through my mind, well, this time, he's over her for good.

Good God, then she has the audacity to come to his funeral! And I hate her for making him suffer like that. That quick. I hate her and I can't believe she showed up for the funeral. And the narrator, he tells he agrees. "this time, he's over her for good."


He stopped loving her today. They placed a wreath upon his door. Soon they'll carry him away. He stopped loving her today.

These are the stories I want to write. This unforgettable love. The pain, finally ending. Isn't that what we all want? The pain and the hurt to just end?

Things I Meant to Blog About But Ran Out of Time, Energy, or Just Plain Forgot

• Jen reads Randy Ingermanson's blog and he talks highly of this (free) Simple.ology course. Jen's been following the course and I haven't. I had decided to give it a shot, started it, and never got past day one. So I started again today. Which leads me to the next bullet point.
  

• I'm evaluating a multi-media course on blogging from the folks at Simpleology. For a while, they're letting you snag it for free if you post about it on your blog.

  It covers:

  • The best blogging techniques.
  • How to get traffic to your blog.
  • How to turn your blog into money.

  I'll let you know what I think once I've had a chance to check it out. Meanwhile, go grab yours while it's still free.

• Stephen King will appear on NBC Today January 22. If you have questions for Mr. King, see this blog.

• The premiere issue of Mused: The Bella Online Literary Review is live! Heather, one of my crit partners, has a great story in it. Did I mention I'm on the fiction editing team? Submissions are open for the next issue. Hurry and get your story in!

• Submissions are also open for Coach's Midnight Diner. Did I mention I was on the editing team of this one, too? Surely I did. :)

• Did you read about my newest venture? Send me an email if you're interesting in purchasing one for yourself or someone special. Remember, they're totally customizable. Project Lifebook:
  Part I
  Part II

• I think that's it. But y'never know. I might be back later with more.
  

Stephen King. Books, Movies, and a comparison.

Stephen King has long held my admiration, for as long as I can recall reading, I know he's always been my favorite. I have not read everything he's penned, not by a long shot and I'm doing some catching up. A couple months ago, I listened to the audiobook Cell, I thought it was decent.

In June, I listened to Lisey's Story. That rated up there with my favorites: The Stand, The Green Mile, and Shawshank Redemption. Knowing the latter of the two film adaptations were directed by Frank Darabont makes me want to see The Mist all the more.


The Mist by Stephen King is the newest theatrical release slated for November 21. I haven't seen 1408 yet, but it's in my Blockbuster Online que. The Mist is an adaptation of SK's short story from Skeleton Crew. I'm positive I read that, but it was so long ago but maybe I didn't, I'll have to check that out. Seems like I did though.

I also just got home from the library. Guess what I borrowed? Yep, another Stephen King title. imagine how much I enjoy listening to stories read by their authors. Well, maybe you can. I'm a little OCD about audiobooks, too. I only listen to unabridged recordings. I'm a little excited about the audiobook for The Mist, seems it is in 3-D sound and I really haven't experienced that yet. So, they've really got me by the balls on this on because as much as I'd love to listen to this 3-D sound, it's abridged. Maybe I'll wait for it to come to the library.

So I'm sitting here listening to SK read me one of his stories and I hear this: (Jo is his wife who has just died)

Near the end of my "pre-cleaning," I looked under our bed and saw an open paperback on Jo's side. She hadn't been dead long, but few household lands are so dusty as the Kingdom of Underbed, and the lightgray coating I saw on the book when I brought it out made me think of Johanna's face and hands in her coffin -- Jo in the Kingdom of Underground. Did it get dusty inside a coffin? Surely not, but -- I pushed the thought away. It pretended to go, but all day long it kept creeping back, like Tolstoy's white bear.

I want you to read a passage from my story and (be honest) tell me what you see here.

Carolyn fished around in the cardboard box next to the lawn chair for her gardening gloves and spade. When she laid down on the ground with her head touching the gravestone, the steel box was buried about where her heart was. She lifted her left arm to put the spade under her shoulder blade as a marker. Are people ever buried with their feet towards the headstone? Surely there must be someone who checks that.

Blast From The Past

Click now to read a horror story by me.

(when I was in the fifth grade.) LOL

Why yes, I am warped thank you very much!

I didn't realize that people were leaving comments for me at Flashing In The Gutters where my flash fiction piece When The Bough Breaks resides.

I saw that someone got to my blog via the story so I clicked and I found this comment from Heather "A once-inch horrifying frame. I read it through twice like staring at the surgery channel. You just can’t seem to change the channel."

I'm telling you...I'm walking on the clouds right now! I won't let m'head get too big, I promise. Heather, thank you for that comment. I guess most people don't understand why it means so much, but us warped people think those kind of compliments are the best!

Thanks to everyone else who commented. (Even my mom read it! She didn't even tell me that, I found her comment just now.) I really appreciate you reading through the story.

Here is my entry for the flash fiction contest at Charis Connection


The Inheritance

I received part of the inheritance. Many don’t like me because of it.

Most don’t know when they’re going to die. He did, though. He talked about dying. I don't think we truly believed he would do it until it was over. He left us things to help us understand. He hoped his words had been etched our minds. He prayed for God to protect us. He knew those that hated us would try to attack once we received the earnest on our inheritance.

He knew we would suffer because of his choice. He knew that taking his own life would cause a grief like none other, but he also knew we would be better off if he was gone. He begged for another way, but it was evident this was the only way to ensure we got the inheritance.

We were vaguely aware of the enormity of our inheritance and we certainly didn’t deserve it, but he wanted us to have it. He told us many times what to expect, but we just didn’t understand how much he was leaving us. The arrangements were made in advance. He made sure the whole story was written down. He made provisions for the security of the documents. To those on the outside, it would appear he was murdered, but the truth was that he wanted to die and he would see it through.

I question his suicide often, wondering if I can truly comprehend the complexity of his motives. How can his death be the most beautiful and intoxicating displays of love I have ever experienced? Why would He hang Himself for me?