Romance Writers Weekly: To Journal or not “Dear Diary”

This week on Romance Writers Weekly, A.S. Fenichel wants to know who keeps a journal. Why? Why not? What kind of things to you write: personal, writerly, vague or stream of consciousness? If you want to share a journal entry, we’d love to know your innermost thoughts.

During my teens, I religiously kept a journal or “diary” as they were called when T-Rex roamed the earth.  Never too fancy about it, an unpretentious spiral notebook served for my mental meanderings and daily activities. Not too long ago, I read some of them and met the person I used to be. Thankfully, I’ve matured and learned a few things.

Later on, a full-time job then a family pushed my logging of life into the abyss. After personal computers became a home standard, (yes I learned to type on a typewriter – GASP), I began to journal again, but entries were sporadic. I’ve always used pen in hand as a  catharsis and wrote many stories during my elementary years.

Now,  I tend to write “shorts” instead of a daily or weekly diary. Usually it’s when I’m dealing with something in life, that I can’t get a handle on. I’ll sit down to the computer or whip out a spiral notebook. Last fall I wrote about selling the family home left to my sibling and me. It was an emotionally draining time for several reasons, but also an unexpected final goodbye to my parents.

Also, the past couple of summers I’ve kept a daily record of my family’s beach vacation as it seems to be over in a flash. I want to remember each day. Wish I’d kept a log of our trips over the years… it’d certainly have some great book material.

Here’s something I’ll share from last December during Christmas vacation when my son and I went to see the  Star Wars movie – Rogue One. Be aware, there’s spoiler in case you haven’t seen the flick.

December 27, 2016.  Got up a little late and started laundry then tided the house. By time Hunter returned from gym, we rushed to Cinema Café to see Star Wars – Rogue One.  He’d had seen it the day but wanted to take Mom. He’d reserved the seats and everything. I went in knowing Carrie Fisher had a heart attack last Friday before Christmas. The last scene in the movie shows her (younger self) receiving the plans for the Death Star the rebels had stolen and she says, “Now we have hope.”

The credits begin to roll and a woman in the balcony shouts, “Carrie Fisher is dead. May the force be with her.” I swear I almost broke down in tears. The timing literally caught me off guard.  Hunter was furious with her.  He’d seen the breaking news on the phone when he’d gone to the restroom but didn’t want to spoil the ending by telling me.

I had a drink when I got home and then proceeded to feel like crap.

Now let’s see if Leslie Hachtel keeps a journal and is willing to share a sample.  If you haven’t visited A.S. Fenichel please check her her post on keeping journal.

 

 

Flash Fiction: Yellow House – Romance Writers Weekly

It’s flash fiction week on the Romance Writers Weekly blog hop and I’m loving it! Hope you’ve already visited A.S. Fenichel who posed  this week’s prompt beginning with the opening line:

Nothing more than a yellow house on the edge of town, but her emotions jumbled whenever she drove by.

The small cottage sat across the road from the beach house where Jo Mercer grew up. Always in a bit of disrepair, the buttery stucco one story had been a cheap rental for vacationers in season.

Jo never forgot the day her Dad marched over with her brother and she in tow to help a young woman and her son unload a multitude of belongings from a banana colored station wagon. As a county firefighter, their Dad had always helped everyone without devised intention, but she’d clung to hope he’d eventually be interested in finding her and Bobby a new mother.

The woman had smiled and waved at their approach, her saffron colored scarf fluttering in the spring breeze. The sandy haired boy had just taken a box inside and returned from house as their parents made introductions. His ice blue eyes had narrowed a bit and concerned etched his brows. Instantly, she knew and connected with the pain of being abandoned by parent.

Like Dad, Bobby had never met a stranger and stepped up to the boy. “Hi, I’m Bobby and this is my sister Jo.”

“Ray,” he’d replied, extending a hand to her and then her brother. Such an unlikely gesture for a boy who turned out to be only three years older than she.

“Do you like to surf?” She’d asked hoping have Bobby and she might cultivate a friend longer than the weekly vacationers.

“I’d like to learn.”

Struck by his gentle smile and mesmerizing gaze, her eight year old heart fluttered. For a self-professed tomboy the moment took her by surprise.

“We’ll help you get these boxes inside and then hit high tide.” Bobby had leaned into back of the open station wagon and grabbed a box. She had followed suit and soon they were on boards riding waves for the next ten years.

She’d kept her feeling for him buried deep, becoming his surf buddy but nothing more. He’d move out of the little buttercream cottage after he’d graduated high school and then left for Iraq after she jetted to California on a surfing scholarship.

No other boy or man had ever compared to Ray. They’d stayed in touch, but it’d been five years since she’d laid eyes on him. Returning to her home town with dreams of what might have been or what might could be, she slowed her truck and felt the tug of her heart at the sight of the little yellow cottage.

I created this little short as a backstory to intro my novel, Hot as Blazes which takes place in the seaside town of Nags Head. where there quite a few yellow houses.

Please check out Leslie Hachtel following me on the hop this week. Hope you’ll check out her story for the yellow house.   I love it when we do flash fiction!

 

Seaside Heat Romance

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