Veronica R. Tabares's Blog, page 19

Nature’s gifts

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Sometimes nature says, “Enjoy!”

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To decorate, or to write?

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This week, decorating won.

But I don’t regret it. A home should reflect the personalities of the people who live there, and the house we bought a year and a half ago did not.

Little by little we are making the changes that make our house match us. We’ve already replaced the floors and remodeled the kitchen, but we still have more to do.

I’m not really a big fan of the blah colored walls. That’ll be a project for a future time.

This last week we replaced our old living room furniture and built barn doors leading into the family room. It totally transformed the room!

I like it.

Haunt for Hire poster

I’ve decided to make posters for the rest of my screenplays. Here’s the one for Haunt for Hire.

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It’s a dramedy about a family who discover they have a connection with ghosts, and decide to use that connection.

They find out that even ghosts can be haunted.

Wormhole 276 picture

I needed to create a picture of a blue wormhole to go along with Wormhole 276. So I opened up an image editor and began creating. Here’s the result.

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The learning curve was a little steeper than I thought it would be. I guess I’m out of practice.

Wormhole 276 Reading

Want to hear a scene from one of my screenplays? I was fortunate enough to win a reading, so go ahead, have a listen.

Here’s the setup.

In a space city more than a thousand years in the future, Marvi and Jacot are left with their grandparents while their parents are out of the galaxy. The grandparents, Tink and Tank, are both successful scientists. The sister and brother have been cautioned to stay out of the labs because of danger. Jacot, who gets bored easily, decides to explore.

FAMILY BEST SCENE Screenplay – WORMHOLE 276, by Veronica R Tabares

Enjoy!

 

A snowy surprise

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I looked outside this morning and SURPRISE!

I had no idea I’d wake up to this. I had plans. Plans that didn’t include snowy roads.

Okay, so the flakes falling from the sky are beautiful, huge, and oh-so-fluffy. Each one is a work of art.

But all that artwork destroys my plans.

Just yesterday I was chatting with a cashier at the grocery store and we both agreed we were ready for spring.

This does not look like spring.

Spencer 1928 excerpt

Officer Daniels holds tight to the counter as he maneuvers around it, then staggers to the bench and plops down beside Emma. As he talks his face takes on a greenish hue, as if he is suddenly aware that his lunch no longer agrees with him.

Emma listens, her chin firm. Though a close observer might notice slight quivers that break through her iron will.

Officer Daniels raises a shaky hand toward the door. Emma stares at the hand momentarily, then nods. Emma stands slowly, throws back her shoulders, and marches out.

Officer Daniels wipes sweat from his brow as he staggers back to his high stool. He checks that no one is watching before he rests his head on the counter.

*   *  *

This is an excerpt of a screenplay I’ve just begun. I’ve had the story plotted out since I first wrote the Behold the Eye trilogy oh-so-many years ago. It’s kinda funny it’s taken me this long to get to it.

Even though this is built on the same premise (dream traveling), it’s from a different time and place with new characters.

Complacency and the form letter

Protests. Hate. Violence. Distrust. Division.

Such is our world, especially when it comes to politics.

It’s nasty out there. Barbed insults aimed at the heart, cries of ‘Give No Mercy’, and a complete lack of concern about unintended casualties. All those normal, everyday people who gave a friendly smile and wave last year would now rather hit someone over the head with a sign.

Sigh.

I would fear that the world has gone totally bonkers and is doomed, except I read a lot. History most certainly repeats itself. What is happening today is not new, not unique, and also not necessary.

Complacency is the problem. People snuggle into their convictions and get comfortable. They wrap those beliefs around them like a warm blanket on an icy day, and woe to anyone who dares to tug on that blanket.

I, too, have well-loved beliefs. But I try to keep an open mind, so I recently reached across the aisle to contact my congresswoman.

I didn’t ask for much, but I got even less than expected. My outstretched hand was slapped away, and I was sent a form letter that showed that my communication had probably not even been read.

You’d think an elected official would make the effort to unwrap, just a little.

Confessions of a perfume hater

Yep, that’s me.

Whether it’s in shampoo, clothes detergent, air freshener, or spritzed on after a shower, it’s all the same to me. No matter if it’s called perfume, scent, cologne, or fragrance, I hate the poisonous stuff.

If you wear it and get behind me in line in the store, I’ll inch away. If you’re wearing a lot I’ll probably even cover my nose.

Wear it while you introduce yourself at a party and I’ll quickly find a way to make myself scarce. Maybe I’ll see a good friend walking in the door, or I’ll claim that I absolutely have to get something to eat, even though I have a plate full of food in my hand.

You call it rudeness, but I call it self preservation.

Because the first whiff of the nasty stuff makes my airways stiffen and tighten. With continued exposure my brain stops working and dizziness sets in. If I can’t get to fresh air, breathing gets harder and harder, until the loss of consciousness becomes a very real threat.

And lets be clear about this, the effects last for weeks after an exposure. Weeks!

Now isn’t that pleasant!

 

The Writing Zone

I have about as much interest in writing today as my dog has in going out to find new fleas.

Don’t get me wrong. I love to write. There are few places better in the world than The Writing Zone. I try to spend as much time there as possible. It’s my Happy Place.

But getting into The Writing Zone can be pure torture. Especially with that roadblock the size of Mount Rainier and those guards. Not normal guards either. These are mean, crotchety, and excessively hateful. They don’t take breaks, but they do take great pleasure in keeping me out of The Zone.

I’m persistent, so I usually manage to get past the beasts. Sometimes I tiptoe past, and other times I borrow a steamroller and plow my way through. It depends on my mood.

But I long for the Easy Entry Days when I skip right past the barricade and frolic for hours in blissful writing.

There’s nothing like being in the zone of getting into The Zone.