Writer’s Quote Wednesday, 4/29/2015


The quote for today comes from John Steinbeck who wrote “Grapes of Wrath”, but whose best work in my opinion will always be “Of mice and men.” If you need to know more about him, the Wikipedia page tells all: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/John_Steinbeck


This quote regards ideas:

“Ideas are like rabbits. You get a couple and learn how to handle them, and pretty soon you have a dozen.” – John Steinbeck.

This is a quote for Writer’s Quote Wednesday, found here:


Check them all out!


Tuesday’s tale, 4/28/2015.


Doing a  bit better, and ready to go again. Five minutes on the clock:

Tenth and Main was silent, like the rest of this section of the city. The parts that did not sleep were on the other side. The driver stopped at the light, and he got out, tapping the door twice once he was clear. The driver didn’t look, but sped off, just as any sane person would in this neighborhood.

He waited until his erstwhile partner was long gone, and then went to a small run down home with vehicles of all kinds, many of them in pieces and states of disrepair, in the yard. He chose the old chevy, that looked like it had been there for a century, got in and turned the key that was already in the ignition.

It started right up, and he drove it away, peeling off his realistic but stinky mask at last. A small toss in the harbor and it was gone; the water would dissolve it.

And Time! Four minutes 32 seconds. See you all next time.

Tuesday’s tale, 4/21//2015.


The tale is, there is no tale today. I want to, but for right now the book I’m writing has eaten my entire brain and there is nothing left. I’ve gone from writing four stories at once easily to being consumed by writing one.I know what the reason is, the reason is I’m rushing it.

Completing a book, even a short one, in three months is a rather insane pace after all. And while I’m managing, I’ve had to sacrifice a few things along the way. It also doesn’t help that I’m sick again, but I won’t use that as an excuse.

So, anyone else having a problem with books taking over their lives? Anyone have a solution for it? Anyone else not having that problem? Feel free to respond to me here.

Writer’s quote Wednesday, 4/15/2015.


This one comes from one of my favorite cynical jerk types, from way back when. He was a free thinker who loudly and vociferously advocated free thinking in others. He publicly attacked institutions which at the time were against such, and he wasn’t careful about who he offended in doing so. I won’t link his stuff since it is very well known:

“Every man is guilty of all the good he did not do.” – Voltaire.

Short, sweet, and pretty preachy, but it makes a good point. The quote is for this event:


Tuesday’s tale, 4/14/2015.


Almost didn’t make it today; I had some minor drama today on a group writing project which I have to be very hush hush about. Then work on the novel continues apace; it is about half complete. The idea is to have it done next month, either early to late. Look up, look around after hours of writing and realize that today is Tuesday, after all. so here we are, with five minutes on the clock:

His driver proved his professionalism in two ways. One, he started off, driving slowly without so much as a glance behind him. Secondly, he mouthed loudly:

“Did you get it?”

One step forward, one step back. How had this guy come recommended? He decided to make a subtle dig back on the obvious. he really was curious to see if the driver would get the point.

“Take it the cops were looking at you, so you had to move?”

He nodded, no sign of anger in his profile. Looks like he wasn’t smart enough.

“Yep, got it in one. Just sit tight, I’ll get you where you want to go.”


“You’ll get me to Tenth and Main, as you were instructed to do.”

He actually had the gall to look a little hurt that. Double the fool, then.

He drove on and one of them at least, enjoyed the silence.

There you go, four minutes even. Have a good night!

Tuesday’s tale, 4/7/2015.


You all know by now what day it is, and what I’m doing. five minutes on the clock:

Trusting his instincts, he cursed, and the Hydrangea appeared to wilt further under the verbal onslaught. Right on cue, his driver pulled over. The cop hadn’t been flashing him, but riding his bumper like that usually meant the lights and siren were imminent.

The cop got out; there was only the one, in the custom of some areas that should have more police presence yet did not. The cop and his driver chatted, too low for him to hear, and a piece of plastic that could only be a license was exchanged. It could only be a fake, but it would be a good one; nearly impossible to pierce. The cop got back into his car and drove off. There wasn’t even a ticket handed out.

Waiting until the cop car was well on the way, he darted for the back seat of his transport. The driver must have seen him, because he had waited. opening the door quickly but softly, he rasped out a “drive” before ramming himself into the floorboard.

And time! 3 minutes, 48 seconds. The plot is clear as mud so far!