This has been an interesting week. I’ve had more stuff throw at me than Bill Clinton at a sorority panty raid. Now that you have that visual image in your head imagine this; when I opened my email Monday morning the first thing that caught my eye was a message from Tales From the South informing me that my recent submission had been selected for their upcoming road show at Arts Center of the Ozarks on Sunday March 16th (color me elated!).
Then I got a packet from Pen-L Publishing regarding a marketing plan for my book, which means we’re moving closer to a release day. ~ I think April Fool’s Day would be appropriate, how about you?
Lastly, our core team from work has spent all week training on a new software system. This may sound like a nightmare for those who have suffered through such an experience, but getting this program is something I’ve been dreaming of for twenty years and to see it finally come to fruition is quite gratifying.
If you’re new to Friday Flash Fiction, the driving instructor for our vehicle of entertainment is Coach “Get-it-Write” Wisoff-Fields. If you’d like to participate in this exercise in madness, head over to her blog for step-by-step instructions. To view the FFF Hollywood Squares Authors Block click here.
Morris Gump was nothing like his older brother, Forest. He lingered in the shadows for years while his brother became a football star, a war hero, and CEO of a thriving seafood business.
Despite the natural sibling rivalry, he secretly envied Forest for cashing in on his ignorance. Things started looking up when a TV producer proclaimed Morris “sharp as a marble,” but the reality show failed miserably.
“Morris,” said Mama, “For some people life is like a box of chocolates, but for most it’s like a box of Ex-Lax. No matter which square you eat everything turns to poo.”
Horror, Psychological Thrillers, Flash Fiction, and Poetry
Stories From Within
Finding ways to make words sparkle
This is the blog of a woman who is seriously on the edge and I mean right ON the edge…no, not there… just a little bit further… further than that…no, further still…just a tiny bit more… just move slightly to the right a little…no, that’s too much…just move a tad to the left…that’s right, just there…now you’ve moved too far to the left… Damn, what part of the ‘on the edge’ do you not understand? Oh, and her matricidal boy genius, come devil spawn.
Or the three people I guilted into reading this blog, whatever.
Growing older is inevitable. Growing up is optional.
Confessions of a Delusional Maniac
I may make you feel, but I can't make you think.
All the Blogging That's Fit To Print
AS I TOLD THE GIRL THAT I LOST MY VIRGINITY TO, THANKS FOR LAUGHING AT ME HERE TODAY.
I don't write, I touch without touching.
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Stylistically Abusing Language for the Betterment of Mankind
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