Nicki Elson's Blog, page 56
October 24, 2010
Icky Part Two
A continuation of my contribution to Outside My Box Blogontest at Tessa's Blurb.
Read Part One
An Icky Valentine's DayPart Two
The bus pulled up and soon all the students were sitting in the classroom, listening to their teachers.
"There are actually three Saint Valentines, all of whom are said to have been martyred on February 14," Icky's teacher informed the class.
Icky's hand shot in the air. Her teacher pressed her lips together and seemed to take a calming inhale before forcing out a stiff, "Yes, Isadora?"
"Did any of them die from poisoning?" Icky asked flatly.
The teacher raised her eyebrows in slight surprise. The question was certainly odd, but not nearly as odd as some of the things Icky came up with. "Hm, that's actually an interesting question," the teacher responded. "You see, not much is known of any of the three Valentines, so we don't know exactly how or why it is that they died. As a matter of fact, it's because of this questionable history that the feast of Saint Valentine was removed from the Catholic Church's liturgical calendar in 1969."
Icky dug in her pocket and pulled out a fistful of small brown pellets. She held them up and opened up her fist so the class could see the tiny ridged cylinders lying flat on her pudgy palm. "Crinoid fossils," she announced and left the random statement at that.
Ah yes, this was more in line with Icky's eccentric style.
"They look more like rat turds," Kevin murmured under his breath and Danny snickered.
"Also known as St. Cuthbert's beads, also thought to protect from poisoning," Icky continued, staring forward at her teacher.
Her teacher smiled that patient smile of hers—the one that had gotten Icky assigned to her classroom in the first place—and said, "Thank you, Ic-…sadora. Well, class, it's now time to go to the library, but we'll be passing out Valentines before lunch, so why don't you get them out of your backpacks and put them on your desk."
Icky dutifully went to her backpack and pulled out her paper shopping bag. In it were the puppy and kitten Valentines from the previous year, and taped to each was a loosely wrapped roll of Smarties. She set the bag very purposefully next to her desk, which was directly in front of Danny's, and left it wide open.
The students lined up and went as a group to the library, but were free to drift back to the classroom once they'd selected their books for quiet reading time. Icky lingered in the library for a long while, even though the book she'd be reading that day wasn't one you could find in an elementary school library.
Icky eventually returned to the classroom and went to her desk to retrieve her book. When she did, she looked down into her bag of Valentines and saw that several of the Smarties candies had been removed. At least half of them. She looked back at Danny's desk and saw telltale cellophane wrappers crumpled underneath. Without any reaction whatsoever to the theft, Icky picked up her book and went to a corner of the classroom to sit on the floor and read.
It wasn't long before Danny exhausted his miniscule attention span and his eyes wandered the classroom, looking for something new to entertain him. Icky was usually a good place to start, and today he hit the mother lode. In front of her unkempt head was an almost life-sized image of Saddam Hussein's face, positioned so that it appeared to sit on her shoulders. Across Hussein's forehead were the words: The Man and His Methods.
Such books weren't generally encouraged at the school, but arguing with Icky about her reading material and consequently going head to head with her permissive father were exercises in futility, and so long as Icky's book kept her quiet for forty-five minutes a day, her teacher allowed it.
Danny elbowed Kevin in the ribs. "Looks like we've got an evil Icktator in our classroom, heh, heh." He maneuvered closer to Icky and wadded up a piece of paper and threw it over the top of her book so that it bonked her in the forehead. She lowered the book so that her impassive eyes peered over the edge at him. "Interesting book?" he sneered.
"Yes," she answered and began to raise the book again.
"Did you get to the part yet where they caught him living in a rat hole and they beheaded him?" Danny pressed on in a nasty whisper.
Icky lowered the book further this time and whispered a considerably longer response. "No. I'm at the part where he poisons his colleagues with thallium sulphate. It was his poison of choice, because it's slow acting; the symptoms often don't kick in until the next day, so nothing can be proven.
"At first it feels like the flu, but then, before the doctors can figure out what's going on, all of the victims' hair falls out, and then they are wracked with hideous joint and flesh pain. The patients lie screaming and thrashing, but there's nothing anyone can do to help, because they don't know what's happening. Eventually, the victims will suffer paralysis and respiratory failure.
"They'll try to get a gasp of breath, but their lungs won't function, so they slowly suffocate, lying in a bed surrounded by loved ones who can do nothing but watch them suffer and die."
Danny and Kevin sat gape-mouthed at the coldness with which Icky delivered the analysis. But then she smiled and a sparkle danced across her typically doleful eyes.
"The best part is—thallium sulphate is completely water soluble, like salt, but it's colorless, odorless and virtually tasteless, so it can be mixed into any drink, and the victims have no idea they've ingested anything malicious until it's far too late. By the time anyone suspects poisoning, the nervous system is well on its way to shutting down."
Danny gulped, trying to restore moisture to his mouth, and then whispered hoarsely, "You're a freak, Ickadora Rat-Poop Karp," before he and his friend scootched across the floor again, away from Icky.
Quiet reading time ended and the students had a math lesson, and then they passed out the Valentines—with much excitement by most of the other children, but much apathy on Icky's part. It stung a little when she thought back to the previous year, how foolish she'd been with her childhood notions of improving the world through silly cards. She was wiser now. Now she understood that nothing good could come of Valentines.
By the time this exercise was completed, it was time for lunch, and the boxes of pink and red cards would wait to be opened that afternoon at the classroom party. At lunch, Icky sat at the end of the table all alone, as usual. She got up to throw away her trash, and paused along the way when she reached the section of the long table where Danny and his friends sat. Danny was taking a huge gulp from his juice bag.
"Is that Lemon Breeze flavor?" Icky asked.
Danny wrinkled his face and mumbled irritably with his teeth still clutching the straw. "I dunno."
Icky shrugged and moved on, but when she returned, she stopped again and let out a small giggle.
"What is your problem?" Danny grunted.
"I could've sworn you brought Island Punch today. Are you sure your drinks weren't switched?"
"What do you care?"
"Yes, I guess that would be difficult to prove." Icky shrugged again and returned to her seat.
But through the corner of her eye, she saw Danny turn his juice bag around in his hand and look at it with confusion. His friends had moved on to their banal discussion, but Danny continued to stare at the bag, his expression becoming more disturbed as he seemed to slowly put together the pieces of an intricate puzzle. A little bit later, he wrapped his arm around his stomach and hunched over, as if he had cramps. His skin looked a little green when he shot a menacing glance down the table at Icky.
The students were dismissed to recess and it was only a matter of minutes before Icky found herself with her face pressed up against the cold metal pole of playground equipment.
"Give me the anti-poison beads, Ickbert!" Danny demanded. "I know you didn't poison me, but I'm going to take those beads just in case."
Icky didn't move or say a thing.
"Fine, I'll get them myself," Danny said and shoved his hand under Icky's woolen coat and into the front pocket of her pants. It was then that she screamed.
The lunch lady was there in a flash. "Daniel Eldridge! Get your hands off of her!"
Danny stepped back and shouted, "I didn't do anything! She started it!"
"Save it for the principal, Eldridge."
To be continued
Read Part One
An Icky Valentine's DayPart Two
The bus pulled up and soon all the students were sitting in the classroom, listening to their teachers.
"There are actually three Saint Valentines, all of whom are said to have been martyred on February 14," Icky's teacher informed the class.
Icky's hand shot in the air. Her teacher pressed her lips together and seemed to take a calming inhale before forcing out a stiff, "Yes, Isadora?"
"Did any of them die from poisoning?" Icky asked flatly.
The teacher raised her eyebrows in slight surprise. The question was certainly odd, but not nearly as odd as some of the things Icky came up with. "Hm, that's actually an interesting question," the teacher responded. "You see, not much is known of any of the three Valentines, so we don't know exactly how or why it is that they died. As a matter of fact, it's because of this questionable history that the feast of Saint Valentine was removed from the Catholic Church's liturgical calendar in 1969."
Icky dug in her pocket and pulled out a fistful of small brown pellets. She held them up and opened up her fist so the class could see the tiny ridged cylinders lying flat on her pudgy palm. "Crinoid fossils," she announced and left the random statement at that.
Ah yes, this was more in line with Icky's eccentric style.
"They look more like rat turds," Kevin murmured under his breath and Danny snickered.
"Also known as St. Cuthbert's beads, also thought to protect from poisoning," Icky continued, staring forward at her teacher.
Her teacher smiled that patient smile of hers—the one that had gotten Icky assigned to her classroom in the first place—and said, "Thank you, Ic-…sadora. Well, class, it's now time to go to the library, but we'll be passing out Valentines before lunch, so why don't you get them out of your backpacks and put them on your desk."
Icky dutifully went to her backpack and pulled out her paper shopping bag. In it were the puppy and kitten Valentines from the previous year, and taped to each was a loosely wrapped roll of Smarties. She set the bag very purposefully next to her desk, which was directly in front of Danny's, and left it wide open.
The students lined up and went as a group to the library, but were free to drift back to the classroom once they'd selected their books for quiet reading time. Icky lingered in the library for a long while, even though the book she'd be reading that day wasn't one you could find in an elementary school library.
Icky eventually returned to the classroom and went to her desk to retrieve her book. When she did, she looked down into her bag of Valentines and saw that several of the Smarties candies had been removed. At least half of them. She looked back at Danny's desk and saw telltale cellophane wrappers crumpled underneath. Without any reaction whatsoever to the theft, Icky picked up her book and went to a corner of the classroom to sit on the floor and read.
It wasn't long before Danny exhausted his miniscule attention span and his eyes wandered the classroom, looking for something new to entertain him. Icky was usually a good place to start, and today he hit the mother lode. In front of her unkempt head was an almost life-sized image of Saddam Hussein's face, positioned so that it appeared to sit on her shoulders. Across Hussein's forehead were the words: The Man and His Methods.
Such books weren't generally encouraged at the school, but arguing with Icky about her reading material and consequently going head to head with her permissive father were exercises in futility, and so long as Icky's book kept her quiet for forty-five minutes a day, her teacher allowed it.
Danny elbowed Kevin in the ribs. "Looks like we've got an evil Icktator in our classroom, heh, heh." He maneuvered closer to Icky and wadded up a piece of paper and threw it over the top of her book so that it bonked her in the forehead. She lowered the book so that her impassive eyes peered over the edge at him. "Interesting book?" he sneered.
"Yes," she answered and began to raise the book again.
"Did you get to the part yet where they caught him living in a rat hole and they beheaded him?" Danny pressed on in a nasty whisper.
Icky lowered the book further this time and whispered a considerably longer response. "No. I'm at the part where he poisons his colleagues with thallium sulphate. It was his poison of choice, because it's slow acting; the symptoms often don't kick in until the next day, so nothing can be proven.
"At first it feels like the flu, but then, before the doctors can figure out what's going on, all of the victims' hair falls out, and then they are wracked with hideous joint and flesh pain. The patients lie screaming and thrashing, but there's nothing anyone can do to help, because they don't know what's happening. Eventually, the victims will suffer paralysis and respiratory failure.
"They'll try to get a gasp of breath, but their lungs won't function, so they slowly suffocate, lying in a bed surrounded by loved ones who can do nothing but watch them suffer and die."
Danny and Kevin sat gape-mouthed at the coldness with which Icky delivered the analysis. But then she smiled and a sparkle danced across her typically doleful eyes.
"The best part is—thallium sulphate is completely water soluble, like salt, but it's colorless, odorless and virtually tasteless, so it can be mixed into any drink, and the victims have no idea they've ingested anything malicious until it's far too late. By the time anyone suspects poisoning, the nervous system is well on its way to shutting down."
Danny gulped, trying to restore moisture to his mouth, and then whispered hoarsely, "You're a freak, Ickadora Rat-Poop Karp," before he and his friend scootched across the floor again, away from Icky.
Quiet reading time ended and the students had a math lesson, and then they passed out the Valentines—with much excitement by most of the other children, but much apathy on Icky's part. It stung a little when she thought back to the previous year, how foolish she'd been with her childhood notions of improving the world through silly cards. She was wiser now. Now she understood that nothing good could come of Valentines.
By the time this exercise was completed, it was time for lunch, and the boxes of pink and red cards would wait to be opened that afternoon at the classroom party. At lunch, Icky sat at the end of the table all alone, as usual. She got up to throw away her trash, and paused along the way when she reached the section of the long table where Danny and his friends sat. Danny was taking a huge gulp from his juice bag.
"Is that Lemon Breeze flavor?" Icky asked.
Danny wrinkled his face and mumbled irritably with his teeth still clutching the straw. "I dunno."
Icky shrugged and moved on, but when she returned, she stopped again and let out a small giggle.
"What is your problem?" Danny grunted.
"I could've sworn you brought Island Punch today. Are you sure your drinks weren't switched?"
"What do you care?"
"Yes, I guess that would be difficult to prove." Icky shrugged again and returned to her seat.
But through the corner of her eye, she saw Danny turn his juice bag around in his hand and look at it with confusion. His friends had moved on to their banal discussion, but Danny continued to stare at the bag, his expression becoming more disturbed as he seemed to slowly put together the pieces of an intricate puzzle. A little bit later, he wrapped his arm around his stomach and hunched over, as if he had cramps. His skin looked a little green when he shot a menacing glance down the table at Icky.
The students were dismissed to recess and it was only a matter of minutes before Icky found herself with her face pressed up against the cold metal pole of playground equipment.
"Give me the anti-poison beads, Ickbert!" Danny demanded. "I know you didn't poison me, but I'm going to take those beads just in case."
Icky didn't move or say a thing.
"Fine, I'll get them myself," Danny said and shoved his hand under Icky's woolen coat and into the front pocket of her pants. It was then that she screamed.
The lunch lady was there in a flash. "Daniel Eldridge! Get your hands off of her!"
Danny stepped back and shouted, "I didn't do anything! She started it!"
"Save it for the principal, Eldridge."
To be continued
October 21, 2010
Dang! I Wish I Would've Known That!!!
As I'm sure has become painfully obvious, I'm learning as I go on this whole promotion business, and it seems I'm always saying, "Dang, I wish I would've known that!" Then it occurred to me...maybe I'm not the only one who didn't know that...perhaps I should share my newfound wisdom. So here I am with my most recently acquired tidbit. It's quite possible that I'm the very last person on Earth to learn this, but have you heard of the "Book Rate" at the U.S. Post Office (maybe in other countries too)? It's this amazing thing where you say to your postal clerk "Send this at the book rate," and the postage is magically MUCH less! For the last seven months I've been paying $5+ a pop to send out copies of Three Daves to contest winners, friends, and book reviewers, but today I walked in, said the magic words, and *poof* $2.38! Two dollars and thirty-eight cents!!! Less than half the cost!
*Inhale* *Exhale* No rant, because I'll consider the money I've tossed away a goodwill donation to the flailing USPS and simply be grateful that I've finally discovered the error of my ways. And if my mistake can help you, then all the better. Please note that there is a slower delivery time with the book rate---I've heard it can take up to two weeks---but if you've got time to spare, it's the way to go.
And now, I'm going to go pack for my road trip tomorrow to my alma mater. Oh, how I hope they still have Tainted Love on the jukebox at Marty's. Pictures to follow next week. Oh, but before I go -- THANK YOU to everyone who's helped me eek out more followers for my Trifecta goal. I don't want to count my chickens and all that, but I think I feel a (ridiculous) 100 follower contest coming on soon...
P.S. Anyone going to the Florida Writers Association Conference this weekend? If so, look for Alison Oburia, who will be there signing copies of her romantic suspense novel, Passion Fish. I promise, meeting her will add a little sunshine to your day.
October 19, 2010
Space Invaders
Congratulations Alex J. Cavanaugh!Today is the release of his debut novel, CassaStar, a Sci-Fi space opera adventure. I'm rather eclectic in my reading tastes and haven't had nearly enough exposure to ths genre, so I'm looking forward to it. Plus, this Byron character sounds rather intriguing...
CassaStar can be purchased at:AmazonBarnes & Noble BAMPowells
"…calls to mind the youthful focus of Robert Heinlein's early military sf, as well as the excitement of space opera epitomized by the many Star Wars novels. Fast-paced military action and a youthful protagonist make this a good choice for both young adult and adult fans of space wars." - Library Journal
Even though I know Alex is extremely busy with a crazy blog tour schedule, I couldn't resist asking him my all time favorite author question:
Moi: If you had to choose one song that best captures the essence of CassaStar, what would it be?
Alex: Guilt Machine's "Green and Cream." It's just for the sheer rush of energy, perfect for the space battles, mixed with introspective progressive rock, layered and detailed for the human element to the story.
Enjoy!
October 18, 2010
Help! an Author Monday
I am SO close to a 100 Follower Trifecta! On Blogger, Facebook & Twitter I'm less than 10 followers away from reaching that golden threshhold. And so, I'm putting out a plea on all three social networks to see if I can close the gaps.And when I do...I'll give you a 100 Follower Contest unlike any you've seen so far! The only thing I'll tell you about it is that it's going to be absolutely ridiculous. Up for it? If you'd like to help me get there, please follow me on any and all of the following: Blogger (duh), Facebook , and Twitter . Danke shoen! ;)
I know I've been a little blog hop happy lately, but I can't help it---people keep coming up with such good ones! The new Blog Hop I've entered is an extremely cool one for writers of all shapes and sizes. You can read more about it in the post below.
And...Meet an Author Monday is here once again. Please stop by and visit any of the lovely authors below to see what wisdom they can impart upon your day:
October 17, 2010
Out of the Box Blogontest
Tessa's Blurb is hosting an interesting new Blogontest: Outside of My Box, in which she challenges us to stretch ourselves and write something outside our norm (thanks Roland D. Yeomans: Writing in the Crosshairs for tipping me off). You have until December 5 to write up something and join. Please note that you should link DIRECTLY TO YOUR ENTRY rather than to your blog in general.
Instead of writing something new, I'd like to share with you something I wrote earlier this year that stretched me outside my Adult Romance comfort zone into more sinister waters. I guess I'd label it Middle Grade Suspense/Horror. It's so outside my norm that it got rejected for inclusion in an anthology for which I was a shoo-in. (I did manage to write an acceptable story for the anthology, but was forced back into my box to write it...and I *hmphf*ed the whole way.)
The story is just over 3000 words, so I'm going to break it into three posts, which I'll put up over the course of three Sundays, appropriately culminating on Halloween. This is the first time I'm sharing this story publicly. I hope you like it.
An Icky Valentine's Day
Part One
Isadora Cuthbert Karp was weird. The way she looked, the things she said, the way she smelled. Even her name was weird. And it didn't escape the notice of the other children at school that her initials spelled ick, not with Danny Eldridge around to kindly point it out to anyone who may have missed that little tidbit.
The bus squeaked to a high-pitched stop in front of Icky, and she hoisted her backpack resolutely onto her shoulders and ascended the steps. The bus was usually pretty full by the time it reached her stop, and today was no exception.
Most seats were two and three full, but about halfway back one was completely empty. This seat was always empty when Icky arrived. It was the only way the other children could ensure they wouldn't have to sit by her. The arrangement was just peachy with Icky, especially today when she'd be able to lay her extra-full backpack gingerly on the seat next to her.
She was hauling precious cargo: her Valentines for the fifth grade Valentine's party. And these were no ordinary Valentines. These were the Valentines with which she was going to exact her revenge on Danny Eldridge.
The bus pulled forward with a jerk and Izzy looked out the window, thinking about the fourth grade Valentine's party, exactly one year ago…
She hadn't been able to believe it when, a month before the party, she'd discovered them on-line—a full set of Valentines featuring the greatest team of superheroes ever. The Bronze Goatee and Poindexter. They were unstoppable: brave, smart, and most of all, underestimated, misunderstood and unappreciated.
They didn't sell these Valentines at any of the big chain stores, or any stores for that matter. But there they were at an obscure Web site, just waiting for her.
Icky had printed out the page and brought it immediately to her parents. She had heard in her mother's sigh the familiar but no longer spoken lament: "Why can't you just be normal?" But all she'd said aloud was, "What about those kitten and puppy Valentines I brought home yesterday? Don't you think that will be more like what the other girls are handing out?"
Icky didn't say a word, just stood with her thin, winter-chaffed lips pressed together and her overly-large brown eyes leveled at her mother. She stared not with pleading, not with resentment, not with any emotion at all.
"Come now, dear," her father had chided her mother. "We know our little Izzy isn't one to cave in to the tastes of the outside world. She makes her own rules," he'd said with the air of someone who was convinced that his child was going through a phase and that if he simply surrounded her with forced optimism, she'd one day snap out of it.
He nearly reinforced his encouragement with a pat to his daughter's head, but seemed to think better of it when he noticed that a few extra snarls had mysteriously appeared in her dark hair.
So she'd gotten the Valentines and signed them proudly. She was bringing the Bronze Goatee and Poindexter to St. Ingnatius Elementary; this would be a Valentines Day for the history books. The children would open their Valentines and know that they were looking at something special, something unique, something worthy of their notice.
Getting up for her third cup of Valentine's punch (red Kool-Aid with floating mini-marshmallows, as far as she could tell), Icky had seen Danny Eldridge's Valentines lying in a mess on his desk. Most of them were bent and had a white blob of raw paper in the middle from where Danny had ripped off the candies that had been taped to them—which was precisely why Icky had gone candyless that year. She would do nothing to risk marring the flawless images of her heroes.
As she passed Danny's desk, her eyes were drawn to Poindexter at the top of the heap. Fitting, she thought. Then she looked closer.
Underneath Poindexter's pointy nose, curving over and past his lip and swirling up into two symmetric curly-cues was a black moustache! In ink. Permanent ink. Icky's plastic cup had crumpled in her clenched fist.
Danny was turned backwards in his chair, carefully aiming spit wads at Tricia across the room, and so was oblivious to the furious glare Icky leveled at him. She stood in place and shook for a full twenty seconds, trying to decide the best way to go about dismembering those horrid fingers that had done this to her Poindexter.
But then she thought: What would Poindexter do? He wouldn't use brute force. No. Poindexter would use his brains to deal with the villain, and so would Icky. Even if it took a whole year. Which it had…
To be continued
Read Part Two
Instead of writing something new, I'd like to share with you something I wrote earlier this year that stretched me outside my Adult Romance comfort zone into more sinister waters. I guess I'd label it Middle Grade Suspense/Horror. It's so outside my norm that it got rejected for inclusion in an anthology for which I was a shoo-in. (I did manage to write an acceptable story for the anthology, but was forced back into my box to write it...and I *hmphf*ed the whole way.)
The story is just over 3000 words, so I'm going to break it into three posts, which I'll put up over the course of three Sundays, appropriately culminating on Halloween. This is the first time I'm sharing this story publicly. I hope you like it.
An Icky Valentine's Day
Part One
Isadora Cuthbert Karp was weird. The way she looked, the things she said, the way she smelled. Even her name was weird. And it didn't escape the notice of the other children at school that her initials spelled ick, not with Danny Eldridge around to kindly point it out to anyone who may have missed that little tidbit.
The bus squeaked to a high-pitched stop in front of Icky, and she hoisted her backpack resolutely onto her shoulders and ascended the steps. The bus was usually pretty full by the time it reached her stop, and today was no exception.
Most seats were two and three full, but about halfway back one was completely empty. This seat was always empty when Icky arrived. It was the only way the other children could ensure they wouldn't have to sit by her. The arrangement was just peachy with Icky, especially today when she'd be able to lay her extra-full backpack gingerly on the seat next to her.
She was hauling precious cargo: her Valentines for the fifth grade Valentine's party. And these were no ordinary Valentines. These were the Valentines with which she was going to exact her revenge on Danny Eldridge.
The bus pulled forward with a jerk and Izzy looked out the window, thinking about the fourth grade Valentine's party, exactly one year ago…
She hadn't been able to believe it when, a month before the party, she'd discovered them on-line—a full set of Valentines featuring the greatest team of superheroes ever. The Bronze Goatee and Poindexter. They were unstoppable: brave, smart, and most of all, underestimated, misunderstood and unappreciated.
They didn't sell these Valentines at any of the big chain stores, or any stores for that matter. But there they were at an obscure Web site, just waiting for her.
Icky had printed out the page and brought it immediately to her parents. She had heard in her mother's sigh the familiar but no longer spoken lament: "Why can't you just be normal?" But all she'd said aloud was, "What about those kitten and puppy Valentines I brought home yesterday? Don't you think that will be more like what the other girls are handing out?"
Icky didn't say a word, just stood with her thin, winter-chaffed lips pressed together and her overly-large brown eyes leveled at her mother. She stared not with pleading, not with resentment, not with any emotion at all.
"Come now, dear," her father had chided her mother. "We know our little Izzy isn't one to cave in to the tastes of the outside world. She makes her own rules," he'd said with the air of someone who was convinced that his child was going through a phase and that if he simply surrounded her with forced optimism, she'd one day snap out of it.
He nearly reinforced his encouragement with a pat to his daughter's head, but seemed to think better of it when he noticed that a few extra snarls had mysteriously appeared in her dark hair.
So she'd gotten the Valentines and signed them proudly. She was bringing the Bronze Goatee and Poindexter to St. Ingnatius Elementary; this would be a Valentines Day for the history books. The children would open their Valentines and know that they were looking at something special, something unique, something worthy of their notice.
Getting up for her third cup of Valentine's punch (red Kool-Aid with floating mini-marshmallows, as far as she could tell), Icky had seen Danny Eldridge's Valentines lying in a mess on his desk. Most of them were bent and had a white blob of raw paper in the middle from where Danny had ripped off the candies that had been taped to them—which was precisely why Icky had gone candyless that year. She would do nothing to risk marring the flawless images of her heroes.
As she passed Danny's desk, her eyes were drawn to Poindexter at the top of the heap. Fitting, she thought. Then she looked closer.
Underneath Poindexter's pointy nose, curving over and past his lip and swirling up into two symmetric curly-cues was a black moustache! In ink. Permanent ink. Icky's plastic cup had crumpled in her clenched fist.
Danny was turned backwards in his chair, carefully aiming spit wads at Tricia across the room, and so was oblivious to the furious glare Icky leveled at him. She stood in place and shook for a full twenty seconds, trying to decide the best way to go about dismembering those horrid fingers that had done this to her Poindexter.
But then she thought: What would Poindexter do? He wouldn't use brute force. No. Poindexter would use his brains to deal with the villain, and so would Icky. Even if it took a whole year. Which it had…
To be continued
Read Part Two
Out of the Box Blog Hop
Tessa's Blurb is hosting an interesting new Blog Hop: Outside of My Box, in which she challenges us to stretch ourselves and write something outside our norm (thanks Roland D. Yeomans: Writing in the Crosshairs for tipping me off). You have until December 4 to write up something and join the hop. Please note that you should link DIRECTLY TO YOUR ENTRY rather than to your blog in general.
Instead of writing something new, I'd like to share with you something I wrote earlier this year the stretched me outside my Adult Romance comfort zone into more sinister waters. I guess I'd label it Middle Grade Suspense/Horror. It's so outside my norm that it got rejected for inclusion in an anthology for which I was a shoo-in. (I did manage to write an acceptable story for the anthology, but was forced back into my box to write it...and I *hmphf*ed the whole way.)
The story is just over 3000 words, so I'm going to break it into three posts, which I'll put up over the course of three Sundays, appropriately culminating on Halloween. This is the first time I'm sharing this story publicly. I hope you like it.
An Icky Valentine's Day
Part One
Isadora Cuthbert Karp was weird. The way she looked, the things she said, the way she smelled. Even her name was weird. And it didn't escape the notice of the other children at school that her initials spelled ick, not with Danny Eldridge around to kindly point it out to anyone who may have missed that little tidbit.
The bus squeaked to a high-pitched stop in front of Icky, and she hoisted her backpack resolutely onto her shoulders and ascended the steps. The bus was usually pretty full by the time it reached her stop, and today was no exception.
Most seats were two and three full, but about halfway back one was completely empty. This seat was always empty when Icky arrived. It was the only way the other children could ensure they wouldn't have to sit by her. The arrangement was just peachy with Icky, especially today when she'd be able to lay her extra-full backpack gingerly on the seat next to her.
She was hauling precious cargo: her Valentines for the fifth grade Valentine's party. And these were no ordinary Valentines. These were the Valentines with which she was going to exact her revenge on Danny Eldridge.
The bus pulled forward with a jerk and Izzy looked out the window, thinking about the fourth grade Valentine's party, exactly one year ago…
She hadn't been able to believe it when, a month before the party, she'd discovered them on-line—a full set of Valentines featuring the greatest team of superheroes ever. The Bronze Goatee and Poindexter. They were unstoppable: brave, smart, and most of all, underestimated, misunderstood and unappreciated.
They didn't sell these Valentines at any of the big chain stores, or any stores for that matter. But there they were at an obscure Web site, just waiting for her.
Icky had printed out the page and brought it immediately to her parents. She had heard in her mother's sigh the familiar but no longer spoken lament: "Why can't you just be normal?" But all she'd said aloud was, "What about those kitten and puppy Valentines I brought home yesterday? Don't you think that will be more like what the other girls are handing out?"
Icky didn't say a word, just stood with her thin, winter-chaffed lips pressed together and her overly-large brown eyes leveled at her mother. She stared not with pleading, not with resentment, not with any emotion at all.
"Come now, dear," her father had chided her mother. "We know our little Izzy isn't one to cave in to the tastes of the outside world. She makes her own rules," he'd said with the air of someone who was convinced that his child was going through a phase and that if he simply surrounded her with forced optimism, she'd one day snap out of it.
He nearly reinforced his encouragement with a pat to his daughter's head, but seemed to think better of it when he noticed that a few extra snarls had mysteriously appeared in her dark hair.
So she'd gotten the Valentines and signed them proudly. She was bringing the Bronze Goatee and Poindexter to St. Ingnatius Elementary; this would be a Valentines Day for the history books. The children would open their Valentines and know that they were looking at something special, something unique, something worthy of their notice.
Getting up for her third cup of Valentine's punch (red Kool-Aid with floating mini-marshmallows, as far as she could tell), Icky had seen Danny Eldridge's Valentines lying in a mess on his desk. Most of them were bent and had a white blob of raw paper in the middle from where Danny had ripped off the candies that had been taped to them—which was precisely why Icky had gone candyless that year. She would do nothing to risk marring the flawless images of her heroes.
As she passed Danny's desk, her eyes were drawn to Poindexter at the top of the heap. Fitting, she thought. Then she looked closer.
Underneath Poindexter's pointy nose, curving over and past his lip and swirling up into two symmetric curly-cues was a black moustache! In ink. Permanent ink. Icky's plastic cup had crumpled in her clenched fist.
Danny was turned backwards in his chair, carefully aiming spit wads at Tricia across the room, and so was oblivious to the furious glare Icky leveled at him. She stood in place and shook for a full twenty seconds, trying to decide the best way to go about dismembering those horrid fingers that had done this to her Poindexter.
But then she thought: What would Poindexter do? He wouldn't use brute force. No. Poindexter would use his brains to deal with the villain, and so would Icky. Even if it took a whole year. Which it had…
To be continued
Instead of writing something new, I'd like to share with you something I wrote earlier this year the stretched me outside my Adult Romance comfort zone into more sinister waters. I guess I'd label it Middle Grade Suspense/Horror. It's so outside my norm that it got rejected for inclusion in an anthology for which I was a shoo-in. (I did manage to write an acceptable story for the anthology, but was forced back into my box to write it...and I *hmphf*ed the whole way.)
The story is just over 3000 words, so I'm going to break it into three posts, which I'll put up over the course of three Sundays, appropriately culminating on Halloween. This is the first time I'm sharing this story publicly. I hope you like it.
An Icky Valentine's Day
Part One
Isadora Cuthbert Karp was weird. The way she looked, the things she said, the way she smelled. Even her name was weird. And it didn't escape the notice of the other children at school that her initials spelled ick, not with Danny Eldridge around to kindly point it out to anyone who may have missed that little tidbit.
The bus squeaked to a high-pitched stop in front of Icky, and she hoisted her backpack resolutely onto her shoulders and ascended the steps. The bus was usually pretty full by the time it reached her stop, and today was no exception.
Most seats were two and three full, but about halfway back one was completely empty. This seat was always empty when Icky arrived. It was the only way the other children could ensure they wouldn't have to sit by her. The arrangement was just peachy with Icky, especially today when she'd be able to lay her extra-full backpack gingerly on the seat next to her.
She was hauling precious cargo: her Valentines for the fifth grade Valentine's party. And these were no ordinary Valentines. These were the Valentines with which she was going to exact her revenge on Danny Eldridge.
The bus pulled forward with a jerk and Izzy looked out the window, thinking about the fourth grade Valentine's party, exactly one year ago…
She hadn't been able to believe it when, a month before the party, she'd discovered them on-line—a full set of Valentines featuring the greatest team of superheroes ever. The Bronze Goatee and Poindexter. They were unstoppable: brave, smart, and most of all, underestimated, misunderstood and unappreciated.
They didn't sell these Valentines at any of the big chain stores, or any stores for that matter. But there they were at an obscure Web site, just waiting for her.
Icky had printed out the page and brought it immediately to her parents. She had heard in her mother's sigh the familiar but no longer spoken lament: "Why can't you just be normal?" But all she'd said aloud was, "What about those kitten and puppy Valentines I brought home yesterday? Don't you think that will be more like what the other girls are handing out?"
Icky didn't say a word, just stood with her thin, winter-chaffed lips pressed together and her overly-large brown eyes leveled at her mother. She stared not with pleading, not with resentment, not with any emotion at all.
"Come now, dear," her father had chided her mother. "We know our little Izzy isn't one to cave in to the tastes of the outside world. She makes her own rules," he'd said with the air of someone who was convinced that his child was going through a phase and that if he simply surrounded her with forced optimism, she'd one day snap out of it.
He nearly reinforced his encouragement with a pat to his daughter's head, but seemed to think better of it when he noticed that a few extra snarls had mysteriously appeared in her dark hair.
So she'd gotten the Valentines and signed them proudly. She was bringing the Bronze Goatee and Poindexter to St. Ingnatius Elementary; this would be a Valentines Day for the history books. The children would open their Valentines and know that they were looking at something special, something unique, something worthy of their notice.
Getting up for her third cup of Valentine's punch (red Kool-Aid with floating mini-marshmallows, as far as she could tell), Icky had seen Danny Eldridge's Valentines lying in a mess on his desk. Most of them were bent and had a white blob of raw paper in the middle from where Danny had ripped off the candies that had been taped to them—which was precisely why Icky had gone candyless that year. She would do nothing to risk marring the flawless images of her heroes.
As she passed Danny's desk, her eyes were drawn to Poindexter at the top of the heap. Fitting, she thought. Then she looked closer.
Underneath Poindexter's pointy nose, curving over and past his lip and swirling up into two symmetric curly-cues was a black moustache! In ink. Permanent ink. Icky's plastic cup had crumpled in her clenched fist.
Danny was turned backwards in his chair, carefully aiming spit wads at Tricia across the room, and so was oblivious to the furious glare Icky leveled at him. She stood in place and shook for a full twenty seconds, trying to decide the best way to go about dismembering those horrid fingers that had done this to her Poindexter.
But then she thought: What would Poindexter do? He wouldn't use brute force. No. Poindexter would use his brains to deal with the villain, and so would Icky. Even if it took a whole year. Which it had…
To be continued
October 15, 2010
If trees could scream, would we be so cavalier about...
If trees could scream,
would we be so cavalier about cutting them down?
We might,
if they screamed all the time,
for no good reason.
- Jack Handey
October 11, 2010
The First Novel that Moved Me
Hey, I'm double blog-hopping today, because while hopping on the first one I saw a second one that is too delicious to pass up. It's hosted by Brad Jaeger, and the theme on which we are to blog is "The First Novel that Moved Me."
The first novel that ever moved me, that ever sucked me in and wouldn't let go until the adventure was completed was Mrs. Frisby and the Rats of NIMH. I don't remember exactly how old I was when I first read it, but I think it was either 4th or 5th grade.
It was the cute mousey on the cover that drew me in, but it was the intrigue and mystery of the rats and the secret of Mr. Frisby's past that kept me turning the pages. And the resilient Mrs. Frisby was such a simple but admirable protagonist for my young mind to relate to.
The first novel that ever moved me, that ever sucked me in and wouldn't let go until the adventure was completed was Mrs. Frisby and the Rats of NIMH. I don't remember exactly how old I was when I first read it, but I think it was either 4th or 5th grade.It was the cute mousey on the cover that drew me in, but it was the intrigue and mystery of the rats and the secret of Mr. Frisby's past that kept me turning the pages. And the resilient Mrs. Frisby was such a simple but admirable protagonist for my young mind to relate to.
Mwahahahah Monday!
Two things for ya this Monday: #1 Meet an Author Monday blog hop. You know the drill. #2 The Full Moon Web Hunt is on! Yet another way to discover new authors AND win prizes!
And another piece of blog business---I've been blog-tagged by The Fallen Monkey, who has an awesome post up right now about Mix Tapes and Manuscripts. And so I shall answer the required questions:
1. If you could have any superpower, what would you have? Why?
The ability to conjure dinner by just thinking about it. Because it's better than spitting flames whenever I'm asked, "What's for dinner?"
2. Who is your style icon?
I wouldn't say I have a style icon, but someone who's personal style I've admired that isn't terribly far off from my own is Cameron Diaz. She's a casual girl who is often spotted in jeans & a tee. Dang, I've gotta wear scarves more often.
3. What is your favorite quote?
Hey Bozo, we're standing in it. -David Letterman
4. What is the best compliment you've ever received?
You're the nicest lunch lady. -Heartland Elementary kids :)
5. What playlist/cd is in your CD player/iPod right now?
On my mp3 player, Swingers soundrack. My Favorites playlist on You Tube is going right now with "Happy Birthday" by Flipsyde just finishing. In my car, a mix for a story I'm working on. I think AC/DC is the latest band that played.
6. Are you a night owl or a morning person?
Hmm, I'm not much of either. Don't care much for afternoons, either, to be quite frank with you.
7. Do you prefer dogs or cats?
Paws down, cats.
8. What is the meaning behind your blog name?
It's a twist on Deep Thoughts by Jack Handy from SNL. I generally stay away from getting too deep; it can only lead to trouble.
And now, everyone on the list below is IT!
And another piece of blog business---I've been blog-tagged by The Fallen Monkey, who has an awesome post up right now about Mix Tapes and Manuscripts. And so I shall answer the required questions:
1. If you could have any superpower, what would you have? Why?
The ability to conjure dinner by just thinking about it. Because it's better than spitting flames whenever I'm asked, "What's for dinner?"
2. Who is your style icon?
I wouldn't say I have a style icon, but someone who's personal style I've admired that isn't terribly far off from my own is Cameron Diaz. She's a casual girl who is often spotted in jeans & a tee. Dang, I've gotta wear scarves more often.
3. What is your favorite quote?
Hey Bozo, we're standing in it. -David Letterman
4. What is the best compliment you've ever received?
You're the nicest lunch lady. -Heartland Elementary kids :)
5. What playlist/cd is in your CD player/iPod right now?
On my mp3 player, Swingers soundrack. My Favorites playlist on You Tube is going right now with "Happy Birthday" by Flipsyde just finishing. In my car, a mix for a story I'm working on. I think AC/DC is the latest band that played.
6. Are you a night owl or a morning person?
Hmm, I'm not much of either. Don't care much for afternoons, either, to be quite frank with you.
7. Do you prefer dogs or cats?
Paws down, cats.
8. What is the meaning behind your blog name?
It's a twist on Deep Thoughts by Jack Handy from SNL. I generally stay away from getting too deep; it can only lead to trouble.
And now, everyone on the list below is IT!
October 8, 2010
80s College Life Hits the Small Screen!
Hmm, let's see...1980s...college life...Midwest...why does the premise for this new TBS show to begin airing November 16 sound so familiar? Could it be because it's the exact same premise for my novel? Well okay, maybe not exactly exact: Glory Daze is set in Wisconsin while Three Daves is in Illinois (HUGE difference), and the TV show is about a group of fraternity guys whereas the novel centers on one girl's dating plight. But even still, quite the exciting coincidence, no?Yet more evidence that the world craves its 80s!
But as thrilled as I am about the impending blast from the past, I'm not getting my hopes up too high. Mostly because of these promo photos of the cast:
Um, what's wrong with these pictures?
Don't worry, I'll tell you:
#1 Where are the mullets?
#2 Why is that Polo collar not up?
#3 Why does the top of the blonde's hair not extend to beyond the top of the photo frame???
These are small things I know, but come on---there was nothing small about hair and shirt collars in the 80s, so to me, those seem like rather large details to miss. Ah well, I'll still be tuning in on November 16 to give it a shot. Who's gonna join me?
