A.D. Sams's Blog, page 2

Day Five: Pictures

Day five of Sara Crawford’s 30 Day Writing Challenge actually incorporates a device I use quite often. I’m visually driven when it comes to inspiration, which explains my love of photography. Today’s instructions are to choose a picture (there are several included in the book) and write something based on your reflections of that photo.

“Look at it for at least five minutes without writing anything…. After you reflect, write a 3-5 page piece based on your reflections.”

Since I have a huge stockpile of my own images, I’ll chose a random shot from my Flickr page (which also helps me to not worry about copyright lol). Plus, I’m giving you full permission to join in on the fun. If you’d like to participate, use the same photo and post your writing in the comment section!

And away we go. Again, this is UNEDITED.

***

“Now, what have I told y’all? If you can’t find a parasol that matches, then you carry a fan. Maybelline, you put down that chocolate. You’ll just wreck your face! I don’t even want to think about how long that bodice will hold out.”

The sweltering heat inched up their hoop skirts. Tall fans stood around the room, but even those weren’t helping anymore. Minnie Lou was on a tirade and there was no turning back.

“We can’t look like a bunch of mountain people out there. Fern! For G-O-D sake, stop sweatin’! Y’all act like you’ve never been through summer before.”

The ladies rolled their eyes.

“I’ll be she has four bags of ice taped to her thighs. The gap is big enough,” Caro muttered. Becky almost snorted lemonade out of her nose.

The ladies fanned and powdered and primped for the next hour. The Belle Dilly Dally was a yearly event where everyone who was anyone worth knowing would dress up in heritage costume and parade the historic downtown streets. The Belles were, of course, the highlight of the event. This was the first year that Minnie Lou Mason had the honor of leading The Dally and she wanted everything to be perfect, which really meant she wanted everything her own way. The Dally started at her daddy’s house, a historic home that was one of the oldest in town history. The Debs would sashay their dainty feet down the red brick steps and into the streets in their giant antebellum dresses.

“I’m gonna go see if Daddy is ready. Y’all stay here and for goodness sake try to freshen up.” Minnie Lou marched out of the room.

“I haven’t seen Tatum in a while. Is she coming,” Maybelline asked. She liked Tatum, who never made her feel too fat or slow or full of chocolate. She pressed her handkerchief against her upper lip to try to keep the sweat from forming again.

“You don’t know what happened with Tatum? Honey, where have you been? Oh, that’s right. You were out visitin’ your cousins in Memphis. Well, at the last cotillion Minnie Lou just about ran herself silly tryin’ to catch the attention of one Jasper Humphries. His people are lawyers down in Alabama. Minnie Lou didn’t care who that boy came to the dance with and she just knew Jackson would never be able to resist her fluttering advances.”

“You mean that weird thing she does with her eyes? I always thought she had mild epilepsy.” Maybelline quickly ate another piece of chocolate.

“She thinks it’s flirtatious. Anyway, once Tatum caught wind of the whole thing, she got mad as a hornet. Practically turned purple, which is not a good shade for her.  You know how that girl gets riled. She cut a big ol’ slice of cherry pie and waited until Minnie Lou was about to sit down. Tatum went and put that plate right in Minnie Lou’s chair. Minnie Lou had no idea she’d just sat in pie, of course. You know how she likes those ball gowns. She ended up walkin’ around for most of the evening with a big triangle of lumpy, red goo on the back of her peach dress. You can only imagine what it looked like. Finally, Jackson, of all people, was the one that pointed it out to her. She was just devastated.”

The room had quieted. All of the girls, except Maybelline, knew that story and it was secretly one of their favorites. There were giggles erupting behind wagging fans as Minnie Lou came back.

“Daddy’s ready to start. Y’all get in the line up that we discussed. Maybelline, you’ll be in the back. We can’t have your sweaty face be the first thing the town sees and for the last time, put down that chocolate!”

Caro started to speak when Maybelline, her fist balled tightly, stopped her. She walked over to where their feisty leader was standing and placed her hand on the back of Minnie Lou’s dress as she faced the rest of the girls.

“It’s okay, Minnie Lou. I completely understand. I wouldn’t want to block any of the other Belle’s. We all agree it’s for the best, don’t we?” Maybelline nodded her head at all of the perplexed ladies in the room so they in turn nodded with her.

“That’s just fine, Maybelline. I’m glad you see it that way. Okay, Belles. Time to dally!”

Minnie Lou, who’d placed herself at the head of the line, turned her back to the room. Smiles began to spread as they saw a big lump of melted chocolate smudge right on the back of Minnie Lou’s dress.

It was the most exciting Dally they’d had in years.

Day Four: Leave it to Chance

Next on our journey into Sara Crawford’s The 30 Day Writing Challenge is where we leave it to chance. The book provides the lists described below.

“Sometimes you get a little stuck, and you need something to help you get started. This writing exercise is basically about pulling writing prompts out of a hat. This forces you to write in a way you wouldn’t normally…. 

Take three hats, bowls, or containers. One of them will be for characters, one of them will be for locations, and one of them will be for possible conflicts.

Place all of your pieces of paper in the respective hats or bowls. Draw one character, one location, and one potential conflict. Write a 3-4 page piece that somehow incorporates all three.”

My random choices from the lists provided were: A cat with insomnia, Texas, Someone has to give up an addiction. Again, I’m modifying the challenges for blog use, so this might not be 3-4 pages in the real world…whatever that is. Here we go. Non-edited.

***

Awake at 4a.m. again.

It’s not as if sleep was a hard thing to do, but the loud noise she heard startled her past salvaging rest. Who was she kidding? She had as much insomnia as the damn cat. Another boom echoed across the wooden floor followed by the sound of a soft thud and a heavy plastic vase rolling back and forth. Dennis, the cat, took offense to just about anything on any surface, not that she had much money for decorations.

Glory swung her thin legs off the edge of the bed. She could see the bruises were healing. The pale, green splotches reminded her of things she’d rather forget. She was sweaty and her hair was stuck to her neck. 

Her toes were tender and she could feel every groove in the floor, slowly she set the pressure of her body weight onto her feet. Her body ached. Every bend, every curve, everything hurt. She was a cavity and her bones were the only thing keeping her together.

The rolling vase finally stopped, but she could hear Dennis pouncing on to something else. She walked slowly into the living room to see a bare mantle and a scatter of magazines, a cup, and the extremely loud vase on the floor. Dennis shoved her purse off the table while he stared at her.

“You’re lucky you’re cute, Mr. Menace.”

He was a pain in her ass, but he was the only thing in her life that never let her down. After she moved back to her little house, Dennis had stopped sleeping. She blamed the country air. It seemed to set everything on end in this little piece of Texas.

She took her fifth trip the bathroom for the night. It was listed as a symptom. Anything that didn’t come out the top, came out the bottom. She felt raw inside. Her legs were stinging as if her veins had been replaced with needles. That’s all she was, needles and bones.

A voice too loud for her head came from the front porch.

“Glory, Glory! Woo hoo, my Gloraaayyy! Let me in, baby,” the voice drawled.

She didn’t need this right now. Not ever again.

She forced herself to leave the bathroom. Dennis hissed. Glory shoved the panic down as she opened the door, leaving the torn screen door shut.

“Well, don’t you look pretty?” Lie.

“What do you want, Berl? It’s 5 in the damn morning.”

“I was just in the neighborhood and thought I’d stop by for a visit.” Lie.

“I live 40 miles from everything for a reason. What do you really want?”

He opened the screen door. She didn’t have the reflexes or strength to try and stop him, so she did what she could and kept her distance. He sneered at her as he walked into the kitchen and sat down.

“You could offer me a drink. Ain’t no reason to forget your manners.” He was digging in his pockets. An unlit cigarette hung from his lips. She watched it bounce when he talked and wondered if he even realized it was there. She grabbed a cup, filled it with water, then slammed it down on the table hard enough to spill half of it everywhere.

“Damnit, woman! I thought you’d be happy to see me.”

“Aint’ the first time you’ve been wrong.”

“Heard you were tryin’ to kick. You and I both know that ain’t gonna happen.”

“You don’t know anything about me. Not anymore.”

“Well, we’ll see how you’re doin’ when I come back then,” Berl tossed a little bag onto the table and got up.

He stood and walked over to Glory. He was too close and he stank. A smell like that could only come after one of his famous two week episodes. Glory’s stomach curdled. She could barely make out the features of the man who once seemed like a god to her and wondered how many times he’d shit himself in the past few days. His hair was greasy and his eyes glassy. He tried to kiss her, but she turned her head. She almost threw up.

He laughed at her as he walked out the door.

“See you later, baby.”

She knew that part wasn’t a lie.

She sank into the kitchen chair and stared at the bag for a long time. Hours pounded away in her head, but still she sat and still she stared at this little piece of snow. Glory was a stubborn woman and when her mind was made up there was no freight train big enough to push it. She moved her toes across the groves in the floor again. Her mind was set.

Taking the bag full of everything her body screamed it wanted, Glory walked to the bathroom. She tried to hold her stomach in as she dumped the heroin into the water. She shook, but the tremors weren’t as bad as they were the day before. She flushed.

Dennis wrapped himself through her legs. The sensation almost too much.

“Let’s go to bed,” she said as she resisted the urge to scoop up her cat. The feeling of his fur and claws would overwhelm her, another facet of withdrawal.

The cat jumped onto the bed and curled himself into a ball, waiting for Glory to join him before he drifted to sleep.

Day Three: What Do You Want To Write?

Day Three of Sara Crawford’s The 30 Day Writing Challenge brings us to this query. What do you want to write?

Today’s offering is more of a list of sorts. “Write a 1 – 2 page list of things you believe in and things about which you would love to write. Include what kind of messages (if any) you want to convey in your writing, what the purpose of your writing is, what you hope to accomplish with your work. You may want to include a list of influences or other writers you aspire to write like.”

It’s a little difficult to judge page length, so I’m just going to shoot for a number. Let’s pick 20.

I want to write like a painting, so vivid that the reader can’t help but see my world in their mind.
I want to write in a way that moves people.
I want to show that beauty and light are in everything, no matter how small or how hard you have to look.
I want to write a long-lasting new fairy tale, like Gaiman’s Stardust.
I want whimsy.
I want to try my hand at a screenplay.
I want to create a serial killer that chills the bones of the dead, not literally, but maybe.
I want to make people laugh.
I want to make people think.
This is a completely frivolous one, but I want to write something so good that one of my author idols randomly reviews it.
I want to write a generally interesting blog (working on it, I promise).
My influences: Neil Gaiman, Alice Hoffman, JRR Tolkien, Roald Dahl, Frank Perretti, William Faulkner, Jack London, and really too many others to list.
I’d like to have a respectable catalog of publications in my life.
I’d like to have one of my stories turned into a film or play.
I want to write a story that inspires music.
I will finish book two by the end of this year.
I want to make my touches of queer literature so natural that it is mainstream (as it should be). I feel I did that with my first book.
I believe I can write good things.
I believe that a life can be shaped by the things one reads.
I believe a story can change someone’s life.

Day Two: Break All the Rules

This is going to hurt. A lot. For those of you just tuning in, I’m making a blog extravaganza of Sara Crawford’s The 30 Day Writing Challenge.

“Another problem I see for beginning writers is that they worry so much about being bad that they are afraid to write at all. If you can relate to this, you need to break out of this way of thinking as soon as possible. What better way to conquer your fear of writing something bad than to write the worst thing you can?“

While I’m not a beginner, I struggle with this one more than anyone can know. Thanks, Sara, for giving me my demon up front.

Here we go.  You can blame Sara. SHE MADE ME DO IT! Awful writing this way, please….

***

It was a bleak night, a night that was dark and bleak. She looked in the mirror at her fair, white, alabaster skin and fixed her long hair to frame her round face. A purple helix hung from her fat neck.

“I never much cared for that woman,” she maliciously said.

“I heard the feeling was mutual,” he bravely said.

“Whore,” she angrily spouted.

The dark man walked across the dark room, bleakly. He felt icky. He hated being here with her when she was like this. He walked across the room. Why had he agreed to do this? All he knew was that his Aunt Gertie owed him big time. He picked up a book and pretended to look through it. He leafed through the pages of the book as if he were a teenager looking for a lost sock. He walked across the room.

“Stop pacing you lanky goat and get over here,” she sweatily growled.

He knew this was the only way. Her chin wobbled when she talks. He imagined his feet sinking into the ground like an ostrich sticking their head in the sand. He imagined the ground was soft.

There will be no way out of this. She will have her way.

Suddenly, a surprise knock happened. Somewhere a knocking sound occurred and it was startling.

The wobbly woman stood and pattered across the carpeting as if stamping out small fires. She placed her right hand on the door knob and opened the door with an angry swing of her left hand on the door knob. I always liked the coldness of door knobs. As I swung the door open to see who interrupted my special time, it was just the maid with tea and cakes.

“Put it over there,” she grumpily said.

All she had to do now was dump the drug into his drink from her poison charm necklace, which she won in a poker game from the Duchess of Perlingsboro, and then make him drink it and then agree to marry her and then she could take the thrown and then rule the land. She looked out at the sun on the afternoon lawn and turned to face the room.

Where did he go?

***

Christ. That was super terrible…and slightly high-larious. Okay, as the 30 Day Writing Challenge goes, I now have to do the following:

“When you are finished, examine your piece and ask yourself the following questions: 

- What “rules” did you break to make this so bad?

- How would you do the opposite of what you did here to craft a well-written piece?”

Basically, what I just did was play into all of my pet peeves – cliche, repetition with no point, terrible dialogue with terrible adjectives, POV tampering, no ending, horrible metaphors, terrible plots…….. I need to stop listing because I’ll be here typing all the day.

Let’s see if you can spot them all.

IT CAN ONLY GO UP FROM HERE….RIGHT?

I’m going to go kick Sara’s tires.

Sara Crawford’s 30 Day Writing Challenge: A Beginning

I’ve been wracking and racking my brain lately in an attempt to breathe some new life into my blogging. It’s been far too long since the days of Ye Olde Livejournal where daily posts were made in abundance (sometimes overabundance…even when I had nothing to say).

Something happened a few weeks ago that took the wind out of my excuse sails. My friend Sara Crawford published a book titled:

The 30 Day Writing Challenge: Begin  or Enhance Your Daily Writing Habit

She graciously allowed me to design the cover and it’s times like that where the universe is throwing your answer in your face that you either need to take notice or end up with an Acme Anvil on your head. I decided to tackle Sara’s challenge in my blog. Feel free to play along with me! Her book is available on Kindle for $2.99.

For the next 30 days, I’ll post using the exercises in the book. I don’t care of what I write is crap. The  point is to write. Sara herself says, “The best way to use this book is to schedule at least 30 minutes every day to work on the exercises. If you miss a day, don’t beat yourself up. Simply pick up where you left off the next day.”

That’s usually where I run into trouble. I’m going to take a moment right now and hold myself accountable to finishing this 30 days regardless of the fact that I might miss a post. Self, it’s okay.

Day 1: Stream of Consciousness – “Write in stream of consciousness for 10 minutes without stopping.”

1:50pm Saturday

When I take on challenges like this, one of my biggest fears is not finishing. It’s as if, somehow, I’m letting down the creator of the challenge. My self judgment is exhausting, which is why I turn to distractions. I like unicorns. I’m in complete agreement with the fact that Rhinos are just fat, angry unicorns. Sometimes my inner rhino cries out  for glitter and malice.

That escalated quickly. The conclusion might be that stream of consciousness writing simply reveals far too much about the author’s mind. It’s a jungle of TMI. I should probably not attempt this exercise while at work. Leslie, my velociraptor, is staring at me like I’m made of meat….wait….

I think, no, at the moment I don’t think. I often find that I’m staring at the screen, mid-sentence, and have no clue how long I’ve been staring while not typing. That’s what fear does though. It stops you in your tracks and derails all of those thoughts that could turn into a beautiful piece of writing. It disguises itself in too many forms to count: exhaustion, distraction, “not enough time”, “more important things to do”, etc. I guess the point is to recognize that I am important enough to myself to make time for my writing.

Wow.

And that, folks is what happens when a rhino finds a pen.

2:00pm Saturday

‘Tis the Season of Orange and Boo

It’s here! It’s here! It’s here! It’s here!

Fall is my *favorite* time of year. I can’t seem to express it enough. It’s my creative time, my can’t-eat-can’t-sleep-gotta-make-things time. It’s my time of cinnamon and changing leaves and chilly mornings with coffee. It’s the season of things that boo and scream and go bump in the night. Goblins and Gnomes living together! Mass hysteria! Orange colored lenses and pumpkin spice lattes for all!

*ahem* Wait. Let me compose myself for just a moment. I came over to Ye Olde Blog for a reason and that was to share this year’s “Gurl has lost her damn mind all up in the Party City” photo shoot. I shared last year’s shoot with you, so it’s time for a 2013 version. This is how it works. I run amok in the Halloween aisle of several stores (mostly Party City) and I come up with pictures. In 2012, I got to be an evil sorceress. It was fun and people are still creeped out by this picture.

I’ve titled this year’s shoot: “In Which One Plays with Cats and Faeries” My little friends love games. We often meet up in the woods to play.

 

What was that? Oh, so it’s Hide and Seek this time? Are you sure? Well, if you insist.

I’m super awesome at this game. You hide.

Eighteen, Nineteen, Elebenty-four. HERE I COME!

Hmmmm. Where are they?

I know you’re here somewhere….I can hear you! You breathe louder than a centaur.

HAH! There you are! I found you!

Those suckers bite! $#^%$^%

Game over. It’s time to visit with the Cats.

You don’t say. You know, you shouldn’t listen to squirrels. All they do is chatter and gossip. I do have a fox friend you should meet. I think you two would really like each other.

Time to retreat, friends. The hour for play is passing. Back into the woods I go.

 

 

Full set can be seen here.

“Bayou L’Abeille” Blog Tour

Whew! Is this thing still on? I know I’ve neglected you, my dear blog. My apologies. Let’s make up starting now.
 
Today marks the beginning of the Blog Tour for my book, “Bayou L’Abeille”. There are some amazing people participating and the first post is from my fantastic publisher, Fey Publishing! Check out the Rafflecopter giveaway she’s posted for a chance to win some free stuff (and by stuff I mean awesome reading material).
 

 
Available on Amazon and Barnes and Noble. Only $2.99 for the Kindle! 
 
Follow A.D. Sams on Facebook and add Bayou L’Abeille to your Goodreads lists!

Follow Fey Publishing on Facebook and Twitter!
 
Blog Tour Schedule
August 24th - The Mind Meanders and Fey Publishing
August 25th - Tidbits of Experience
August 26th - Sunshine & Mountain Book Reviews and More
August 27th - Vision and Verse
August 28th -  I am, Indeed
August 29th - Kevin Saito’s Personal Blog
August 30th - Author Reader Mixer
August 31st - This Little Bookworm
and Rubyfruit Radio

I Also Take Pictures

I love my hair salon. Seriously. Rogue Hair Studio, owned by the fabulous Melissa Meacham, is located in Woodstock, GA and specializes in some amazing color. On occasion, I get to take pictures of their models and these are a few shots from the recent photo shoot. I took so many photos that I’m still going through them. Here are some of my favorites:

 

Here is the full set. I’m still adding photos.

A Music Share – Jim Bianco’s Cookie Cutter

It’s been a while since I shared a bit of music on my blog (in fact, I don’t think I ever have on this particular blog, so yay for new things). A few months ago, I had the opportunity to see a concert in the round. This is where several musicians share the stage and take turns either by themselves or with their fellow musicians. I think it’s a great way to not only find new artists, but to also experience an instant collaboration that sometimes produces magic. That’s a post for another time though.

This particular concert featured Michelle Malone, Emily Lynch, and Jim Bianco. I’ll go ahead and tell you that if you enjoy strong female vocals, check out Michelle Malone. She has this great blues/rock/Americana vibe that is infectious. Emily Lynch has an absolutely lovely voice and is more on the country side of the genres. I love her song “I Want You”.

The main reason I started this post, though, is for Jim Bianco. This was the first time I’d heard anything about the guy. There he was, sitting on the middle stool between these two feisty women. His hat perched just to the side in a way that showed he wasn’t intimidated.

I wasn’t sure what to expect, but sometimes that is the best way to leave yourself open to new things. He was absolutely amazing – talented, charming, funny (and I do mean a delicious sense of humor), and aware of his artistry. Awareness is really a key thing for me. Too many times I see artists with no faith in their craft and it makes me sad. Be that as it may, I loved him. There’s certain gravel that draws me in to some musicians and Jim Bianco has that quality in his voice.

He began to describe his upcoming album, Cookie Cutter. This is a really unique piece of work because what he did was to send a questionnaire of 69 questions to 17 of his fans across the world. He wrote a song about each of them. I would have given a limb to be part of this project, let me tell you. At least I was lucky enough to run up to the merch stand and purchase an advanced copy. The questions are listed across the inside of the cd case –

 

It’s set up where you get to hear a speaking track before each song in which (an actor, I believe) you can hear a few of the answers that were sent by the fan. Then you hear the song. The album ranges from a ridiculous ear worm written for two little girls (seriously, “Blue Subaru” needs to be snapped up by the car company, it never goes away boo-boo) to a beautiful songs about love and loss. This is really an amazing collection and I recommend you listen to the whole thing in a setting where you can just absorb all the pieces.

Here is what I love about the whole thing: It’s the connection. This fantastic collection was put together by a musician reaching out to his fans and sharing an intimate process. When you write anything, be it a song or a story, about someone else, the entire process pulls the other person into a very personal space in your creative process. Not only that, but when you receive something written about you, it’s really an amazing feeling. It puts you in a vulnerable position to allow someone else to really look into you and pull out those pieces that speak to them. I really can’t say enough about Cookie Cutter, so I’ll let him speak for himself.

“Whether we like it or not, in many ways, human beings are exactly the same – for the most part we have legs that walk us, fingers that point us, minds that torture us and hearts that, when operating correctly, lead us clumsily through our lives. But still, there is something distinct in all of us that perseveres. Something singular and unrepeatable. Our memories, for example. Or the choices we have made in our lives. Or the resulting consequences of those choices that we must live with.” – Jim Bianco

Here is “To Hell with the Devil” from an earlier album.

Now, if I can just find out the date of release for Cookie Cutter, I’ll force you all to get it.

Adventures in Cooking

Whoa, hey! This thing still exists! I’d apologize for not paying attention to my blogosphere, but I’m a slacker and I’ll get to it later.

Today, I was feeling pretty froggy, so I decided to jump in the kitchen and throw down an old recipe that I finally finagled from my mom (alliteration ftw, woot!). My family has some amazing recipes and I keep meaning to put together a family cook book. That’s a topic for another time.

This recipe happens to be a perfect summer dessert, Blueberry Delight. Yeah, I know. The name needs some work. I might come up with a new one by the end of the post. Watch out now!

It’s completely easy and delicious and it’s the kind of dessert that really stands out. Here is what you’ll need -

Crust:

2 cups Flour

2 sticks of Butter

1 cup of Pecans (I prefer crushed to chopped.)

1/2 cup Powdered Sugar (for sweetness)

Mix ingredients together and press the mixture into a 9×13 pan. Bake at 375 for 15 to 20 minutes. Let the crust stand until cool.

My oven is a little persnickety so I left that bad boy in there for about 22 minutes. I’m thinking of trying another version where the crust is made from my praline cookie recipe, which is a brown sugar based cookie.

Filling:

1 8oz Cream Cheese

1 container Cool Whip

1 can of Blueberry Pie filling (we’re taking the easy way out here lol.)

1/2 cup of Powdered Sugar

Spread the mixture over the cooled crust. Here is where you can get creative. I topped mine with a sprinkling of pecans and dollops of Cool Whip.

It’s ridiculously yummy and not too heavy for a summer dessert.

I give you the Blueberry Nomicon.