Write on Edge Feature!

I think that I’ve posted more this week than I have in months! But today is a special day because I am the featured writer on Write on Edge where I’m sharing one of the posts I wrote in response to a Red Writing Hood prompt.

Write on Edge quickly became one of my favorite sites not only because of the great prompts, but also because of the supportive community that has grown with the site. It’s a place where I can go to learn & grow as a writer, a place where I can find useful feedback, where I can always find support, as well as find some incredible stories to read.

I love reading and have always enjoyed writing even though it hasn’t been my strong suit. Write on Edge allows me to write without worry or concern and with their continued support I will keep writing and growing.

So to all of you at Write on Edge I say thank you! Thank you for all that you do. Without you I wouldn’t be where I am in my writing and most of all I would have never taken the chance to take part in NaNoWriMo this year.


Write on Edge: RemembeRED

Today we’re trying a little something different. Are you ready? Your word is below. Take the next ten minutes to write about the first single memory that word calls up. Focus on the emotions and the experience, spend ten minutes really exploring that memory. Then wrap it up, publish, and come back to link up.

Write on Edge - Crash

Winter…. January 31st to be exact. Just after 6pm and it was dark outside.

I took a back road for some reason… must have thought that it would have been quicker or something.

It had been snowing like it always does at that time of year in Michigan. Most of the roads were clear except for a few random drifts that happened to fill the roads where the fields were open.

The drifts never worried me much because I drove a four wheel drive Expedition. It plowed through drifts easily… like a knife through butter. Smooth and easy.

I was confident and sure that I was safe from the travesties that others experienced with their little cars.

Excitement was building as I drove on to meet up with some high school girl friends for a night out. I hadn’t seen them in a long time and was really looking forward to it. I never made it.

I came up over the hill and on the downside were drifts. Nothing special… until I drove through it. The drift caught my tire just right and I felt it pull my truck off to the right while I tried to get control of the truck. Fear raced through my body like nothing I had ever felt before. Before I knew it I was in the ditch and the truck tipped.

I was rolling…. I let go of the steering wheel and covered my head, it was an instinct. It wasn’t going to save me though. I kept rolling from side to side. Metal crunching, glass shattering, and my body being banged around the truck even though I had my seat belt on.

Finally, after what seemed like a lifetime it stopped. Windows were gone… the windshield was smashed but in tact, the roof was caved in. I did a mental check of myself…. I was fine. I survived.

Adrenaline was running high as I sat there trying to stop shaking. I fumbled around looking for my cell phone to call 911.

Fear still had it’s grip on me as I dialed several times… my hands were shaking so bad that I could barely dial. Finally I got it.  Help was in it’s way.

I missed my night out with friends and had to walk through almost knee deep snow in my brand new purple heels.

I am much more conscious about how I drive, the weather, and road conditions. I worry more than is necessary and I’m driving another truck.

Note: I followed the rules and wrote for 10 minutes and hit publish… this is not edited at all. So please be kind… the grammar and punctuation probably sucks.


We cut it, curl it, straighten it, color it, grow it out, despair over it. It can ruin our entire day or make us feel sexy or powerful or an entire spectrum of emotion.

It’s our hair.

We make judgments about mullets and comb-overs and bowl cuts. We envy thick, luscious locks. Or wildly hued ones.

Hair says a lot about us. About who we are or who we want to be, or maybe just who our friends are.

This week we’d like you to write a piece about hair. It can be about you or one of your characters where hair figures prominently. Don’t just describe it. Use it as a vehicle to tell us something about your character, a situation, you and your life.

Write On Edge: Red-Writing-Hood

Georgie walked into the office late in the day as usual and he was wearing his typical uniform in black. Dress slacks of some poly blend that looked itchy, black dress shirt with a sheen that slightly reflected light, shiny black loafers, and a few gold chains that peaked out of the unbuttoned shirt. Georgie always left the top two or three buttons undone and never wore a tie.

To say that he thought highly of himself was an understatement.

But the one thing that he was most proud of was his dark, slicked back hair that was pulled into a ponytail at the base of his neck. He went to great lengths to keep his hair slicked back and perfectly neat and the minute that he had a hair out of place he was in the office, in front of the mirror fixing it.

Aside from his profession as a lawyer he led a shady lifestyle, but I think that the outfit and hair gave that away, but that all changed one day.

A case gone badly, a jilted lover, and a pair of scissors was all it took for everything to change for Georgie.

Connie was pissed off and while Georgie was taking a nap in his big office chair she snuck in and snipped off the end of his ponytail, and then made a few random clips here, there and well… everywhere.

Georgie woke as she made the last few clips and screamed like a little girl as his hands immediately flew to his head. Connie did nothing but laugh while the secretary gathered her things for an early lunch.

That night Georgie found himself in a cell with some seriously messed up hair, no ponytail holder or gel to keep his much loved locks in place. Connie, well she was in the hospital recovering from a few stab wounds.


Write On Edge: Red-Writing-Hood

This week, we’d like you to take us on an actual journey, specifically a road trip? Think about who is in the car. Where are they going and why? What’s on the radio or what are the travelers talking about?

In 300 words or less, create a fiction or creative non-fiction piece that lets us feel the wind from an open window or the dry heat of a car vent.

red car

The long and winding rode was laid out ahead of me and out my window there was nothing but empty land, random trees, and dust bowls. It was a pretty desolate area that I had been traveling for hours now; each road sign brought me closer to civilization and a new life.

I left the middle of the country about a week or so ago, Indiana to be exact. It was a small town, with small minds and very little room for change or innovation. I had to leave after he raised his hand to me…. it was not the way I wanted to live the rest of my life. I packed up everything I could into my little convertible, put the rest into storage in the next town over, and headed west. It was just the open road, my music, and me and to make it even better… half way down the highway heading out of town I put the top down & let my cell phone fly out of my hand and crash to the ground. All connections to my old life were now severed and it felt good.

After another week of travel I finally hit the west coast and found myself traveling north after a weekend on the beach. The view was gorgeous! Ocean to the left and beautiful mountains and trees to the right it was then that I knew this was where I wanted to be and as the sun was starting to set over the water I pulled into a little roadside diner.

I parked in front and the bell on the door jingled as I walked in signaling my arrival. It was a small diner with booths that lined the windows overlooking the highway and a traditional diner counter complete with red stools and laminate counter top. All that was necessary now was Alice or Flo to come walking through the swinging kitchen door, instead an older woman came out to greet me and refill the cups of a few people at the counter.

I noticed a car pull in while I sat in the booth reading the paper. Normally, I don’t pay much attention but how often do see a classic car like that… I’m a sucker for a well maintained classic. I put it out of my mind, with my budget I could barely afford my cake and coffee, and returned to the paper. Again the bell jingled announcing another customer and as he walked by our eyes met and locked, for that brief moment in time I felt lifetimes flash in my mind. He had a look of recognition on his face and quickly looked away breaking the connection we had.

I know that I went over the word count but I cut it off at the best place I could find… even though I’m not sure of it still. And in case you’re wondering… yes, this is part of my novel for NaNoWriMo! So I would love any and all feedback!


This week I want you to take me to your version of 8:00 -AM or PM, fiction or creative nonfiction- in 200 words or less.

Write On Edge: Red-Writing-Hood
It was 8am and I hadn’t heard anything yet. Maybe she had slept in from the exhaustion of the emotional roller coaster that she was on yesterday. I called the house phone and there was no answer, so I tried my step moms cell and finally an answer. They were still at the hospital waiting is what she told me.

I tried to remain calm and understanding about the situation but with emotions running high it was difficult . How could they forget? Were they busy with an emergency, was it the change of shifts, or were they just plain forgetful? You simply don’t forget to write something on a chart. Regardless, no answer from the hospital would suffice.

I willed the tears to not fall again. Deep breath in and out slowly until I felt better.

After several days of worry yesterday was to be the day we’d get better answers. Healing would begin. But it is held off another day.

Today I will visit my dad in a different hospital and today there will be answers.

Yesterday is over and tomorrow will be a better day.

They’re coming

For this week’s Red Writing Hood prompt, we’re inviting you to truly scare us.

Here’s what you’ll need to do:

Compose a post in the form of a text160 characters.

Your text must elicit or express fear.

Though this initially looks like more of a fiction prompt, we challenge our non-fiction writers to take a stab at it as well. (Stab! Scary!)

Around 1am October 21, 2011

Text from an unknown number

Help me. The voices… Make them stop. Help. They’re here now. Scratching….clawing…at the window. Please. They can see me. They’ll kill me. They see you now. They’ll kill you too.




A walking mural

It started with something small on his leg…. Marvin the Martian. You know the cute little green alien from the Bugs Bunny cartoons.

He was 15 at the time and had to have his mom sign for it.

It didn’t take long for the addiction to grab hold of him. The need for the rush as the needle brushed across his skin, the colors lighting up his flesh, the search for the perfect image, or the the person that could make it all a reality.

All to soon he was gone to bootcamp. He was now a Marine.

Next came the Marine bulldog, the UPC code on his neck with his birthday for the numbers, and the dog tags complete with his information wrapped around his rib cage.

He was stationed in Atlanta and quickly became friends with a guy that would be a life long friend and his personal tattoo artist.

Arms, legs, chest…. they were all covered in splashes of brightly colored art work. One after another they added up until you couldn’t tell where one started and another ended.

Doves, ying yang, large tropical flowers, and Lady Death. They all graced his body.

Was he judged? Probably.

A better question was did he care? The answer is a resounding no. Then again he’s never cared what others have thought of him.

Is he done now that he has a job as a professional chef, a husband, or a parent? No.

I’m proud him no matter what because he’s my little brother….. even though I have to look up at him!

My little brother

My "little" brother


A new life

This week Galit asked you to conjure something. An object, a person, a feeling, a color, a season- whatever you like.

But don’t tell us what it is, conjure it. In 100 words.

Time passes. Days… weeks… months.

The anticipation is almost over & excitement takes over . But other feelings sneak in… fear, happiness, anxiety, & pain.

It starts with a twinge, a trickle, a gush, or an appointment.

Pain. Pain like I’ve never known.

It’s excruciating & I feel like I’m being tore apart.

I want nothing more than to be done. I’m tired.

But the end is close as the pain increases.

Push, count, push, count.

Finally I hear a little cry.

Tear fall from my eyes as I cradle my baby close to me.

The One

Let’s have fun this week. We want you to write a personal ad for your character, like one you would find on a dating site. The ad should tell us about your character, but should not be a laundry list – and no cliches about walks on the beach.

Make it interesting, unexpected. Is there something your character is trying to hide that you can tell by reading between the lines? Would we know which character it was (if you have a recurring one) by reading the ad? Will something be revealed?

That tall, thin, flirty blond you see ever day? That’s not me. Actually… that’s so far from me that it isn’t funny.

I’m the one walking down the sidewalk, the one you pass by without a second glance. I’m the one you see sitting at the table, tea in hand and a book in front of me while I take notes in another next to me.

I’m the one that buys the organic produce, chai tea, and Diet Coke at the grocery store.

I’m the one that sits in the movie theater alone enjoying the movie and my buttered popcorn.

Lifelong student, book reader, wine lover, and slightly introverted.

I’m the one you’ll find sipping a glass of wine at a local restaurant while eating dinner with my closest friends.

You’ll find me sitting in the book store or library all day perusing the rows upon rows of books.

Or maybe window shopping the whimsical stores along the street of a small town.

How will you know me? How will you know that I’m the right one?

You’ll know because I’m the tall one with long dark hair and piercing blue eyes.  On occasion you’ll see me in glasses… but only when I read.

Always in heels.

Always dressed well.

Never full of my self.

Not high maintenance.


I’m the one.

Come find me.

A pair for every mood

Jeans. They can evoke so much emotion in us: the hot jeans we wear on a date, the skinny jeans we can finally fit into, mom jeans we vow never to wear, the comfy jeans we’ll never throw out.

The assignment this week is to write a piece – fiction or creative non-fiction – in which jeans play a prominent role. You can even write an ode if you’re so inclined.

I own a lot of jeans… probably more than I really need. Dark ones. Light one. Straight leg. Skinny jeans. Flare. The list goes on and on really and I love them all.

But the thing is that each pair is just different enough that they each fit a different day and a different mood.

My new favorites are the super dark wash jeans with the straight legs from the Gap. The hug my curves gently and paired with heels they make my legs look long & lean. They’re a great pair of jeans for dressing up for work or an evening out on the town.We’ll call them the sexy jeans.

Closeup of a copper rivet on blue jeans.

Image via Wikipedia

I have the frumpy jeans. The fat jeans. The comfortable jeans. I think that we all have them, don’t we? These are the jeans that I wear on the weekends when I’m not going anywhere other than maybe a quick trip to the grocery store. They’re not the most attractive jeans and they don’t make me or anyone look good in them. But I love them. I can curl up on the couch in them comfortably and read a book. I can throw on a sweatshirt and tennis shoes and go outside and play with the kids without worrying if I’m going to ruin them.

Trouser jeans are another favorite. They have such a classic, dressed up look & feel to them but still lend a casual tone when paired with a simple shirt & flats.

My old stand-by’s are the casual every day jeans that aren’t to low and aren’t to high and just slightly flare. Dressed up with heels and a silky shirt they’re ready for dinner with the husband. Worn more casually with a cute t shirt, scarf, and flats I’m ready to head out for a day of shopping with my kids or friends.

With fall coming I’ve been pulling out all of my jeans, heels, boots, and sweaters. I’m excited to start pairing up new outfits and shopping for new pieces to add to my collection!

Now, there is a type of jean that I never wear. Ever. Mom jeans. They’re terrible on anyone…. no matter who you are you simply can’t make these jeans look good. I should tell you that my middle daughter likes them…. she’s odd… but she has her own unique fashion sense and seeks them out at resale shops & Goodwill. She pairs them with the most hideous sweaters she can find too… I usually don’t take her out in public with me when she dresses like that. I draw enough attention to myself with the loud toddler!

It’s interesting how certain pieces of clothing can evoke certain feelings and moods and even more so specific pieces when paired in different combinations. Whether it’s sexy, comfortable, intelligent, bad ass, or confidence jeans are the one article of clothing that can be worn just about anywhere.

What are your favorite pair of jeans?