Tuesday’s tale continuation:


Alright, same deal; five minutes on the clock and me inside on a sunny 60 degree day. Who needs sunlight anyway? I burn like a vampire in the sun. Ready and go:

Like a fool, he went looking for it. The surrounding houses were quiet but did not seem asleep; rather they seemed to hover over the intruder in their midst like doctors over an etherized patient laid out on the table before the cutting began.

The pools of light were many and bright, and he could not avoid them all. So instead he simply straightened his very dark clothes and walked boldly down the street. Soon enough and with a sense of relief he spotted the nondescript miniature car which had his compatriot behind the wheel.

It was the one with the police cruiser behind it.

With a curse, he dove for the nearest cover, which happened to be rather diseased looking Hydrangeas.

And time! Four minutes, 23 seconds. I was trying for less, but oh well. Until next time!


Writer’s Quote Wednesday, 3/22/2015.


I decided to date these for ease of understanding. The one for today comes from Ralph Waldo Emerson:

“It is one of the blessings of old friends that you can afford to be stupid with them.”

Well said!

As always, this is for this blog: https://dailypost.wordpress.com/dp_event/writers-quote-wednesday/

Something a bit different today.


Now to preface this, let me just say that I’m not a fan of Smashwords. I don’t like the draconian submission rules they have under the guise of suggestions, mostly, but some of their decision-making also annoys me.

All that being said however, they do some good work sometimes. I found this while roaming around, and thought I would share it with any other authors or would-be authors out there. It’s a bit old, but it can be used to clarify a few things we authors who self-publish need to know:


Writer’s quote Wednesday.


This one is from a guy I barely know anything about, but he’s an interesting bloke (British, and I’m told they use that term). Hopefully, I’ve used the correct amount of dry understatement.

“It is by sitting down to write every morning that one becomes a writer.” – Gerald Brenan.

Sort of a continuation of my last quote, and further bolstering of my own case and sick work ethic. Oh and the post refers to this, here:


Tuesday’s tale, afternoon edition.


Alright, let’s get started; 5 minutes on the clock, and go!

The trip outside was almost anti-climactic. Nothing happened. No large dogs came snarling and hurtling out of the dark recesses of the halls, no alarms were triggered, and no angry owners stepped out with guns in hand.

It was almost enough to put him on edge. Something should have gone wrong by now. Something almost always went wrong with jobs like this; it was why he never took them.

So when he reached the crisp open air after squeezing through the window he entered in to find that his spotter and his getaway vehicle were both gone, well it was almost a relief.


And time! 2 minutes 12 seconds, a new record. I almost continued, but then… I’m writing a book for publication. So it’s time to do that.

Writer’s quote Wednesday.


This one is from one of my favorite fantasy authors. I highly recommend him if you are into that genre:

“The unfortunate thing about working for yourself is that you have the worst boss in the world. I work every day of the year except at Christmas, when I work a half day.” – David Eddings.

That about sums up my own work ethic, at least in regards to writing. Also, apparently I missed making the pingback last week; I’m very sorry about that guys and gals!


Tuesday’s tale continuation.


Alright we had a few votes saying to continue the flash fiction just to see where it ends up. So here we go, five minutes on the clock:

The prize was a stone. Just a regular jagged gray piece of rock with veins of beige running through it. To the uninitiated it was nothing at all, certainly nothing worth the extremely expensive security protecting it.

But he had been paid and paid well to take this. Anything else stolen was secondary, but this rock was worth lives. The owners, if they interfered… and his own, if he was caught. Who knows how many others had stained this humble piece of condensed dirt with their blood over the years.

And who even knew why? He certainly didn’t. His contract didn’t have a need to know clause. so without stopping to think about it any further, he started out the way he came in. Thinking too much was an occupational hazard; it would get him caught.

And time! Five minutes, 22 seconds. I ran a bit longer than I wanted there; whoops.