tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-71447850680246761972024-09-19T10:38:49.010-04:00Novels and short-stories writen by an amateur writer.Cathttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05424146421701032149noreply@blogger.comBlogger34125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7144785068024676197.post-75001235370193991032013-10-15T17:31:00.000-04:002013-10-15T17:41:59.612-04:00

So, I'm a deist. God exists, but plays little to no role in day to day life. I'll go into more detail if you ask. Anyway, I have my Google news set to tell me about writing contests. When one from CrossBooks popped up asking for Christian manuscripts, well, I couldn't help myself. They really made it too easy when they said that manuscripts must pass their "Theological Review" and meet their "

Cathttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05424146421701032149noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7144785068024676197.post-50098522028708620602013-05-20T10:38:00.000-04:002013-05-25T02:03:00.598-04:00

First, please read On historical writing. Now, enjoy this list of references I used while writing this...thing, hahaha. (By the way, I'm not going to put every website I used, specifically from Wikipedia--assume that unless otherwise noted I got my information from the pages linked to within the article, but still within Wikipedia--for example, I got my information about Alan Rufus

Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7144785068024676197.post-85499894698431010312013-05-16T22:35:00.000-04:002013-05-17T01:06:05.977-04:00

Okay, not all the time. For instance, I've learned a lot about Packards and something called an "Ultramatic" transmissions (though for personal preference I've decided on a manual transmission for this story). But broken noses--gah! Not something I really care to Google, ya know? Black eyes, too. Anyway, now that I've vented the extent of my traumatization (not sure if I've made this word up or

Cathttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05424146421701032149noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7144785068024676197.post-8731075642355552502013-05-16T22:13:00.000-04:002013-05-16T22:13:45.141-04:00

You wouldn't believe how hard it is to find real free writing contests--it seems like some genius (no sarcasm intended) realized early how to profit off people who will pay $5 a month to enter writing contests. Technically, they're free and numerous, but for me they just get in the way when I'm looking for legitimate contests to enter. So, here's my contribution. Every time I find a legitimate

Cathttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05424146421701032149noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7144785068024676197.post-65486349492633787582013-05-16T22:09:00.000-04:002013-05-16T22:09:24.790-04:00

In compiling a list of free contests for myself and others I came across this one. Here's the picture we're supposed to use to write a 25 word start to a story: Le Sigh--I wrote 35 words, but while too long for the contest, it's too good not to share: You'd think I'd get used to this—it happens a few times a month. Sometimes a man. Sometimes a woman. It’s worst when it’s a kid. Why

Cathttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05424146421701032149noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7144785068024676197.post-74689713337345359772013-05-06T23:42:00.000-04:002013-05-06T23:42:35.756-04:00

So, this is a short story I wrote today (just finished cutting it down to exactly the required 600 words) for NPR's 3-Minute Fiction contest. The theme is "Finder's Keepers" about characters who don't return the item they found. It's based on two characters I've already begun working with. That story is about a girl who essentially creates magic, but she's in our world so it's going haywire and

Cathttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05424146421701032149noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7144785068024676197.post-17310813469318968142013-03-29T22:02:00.000-04:002013-03-29T22:02:42.376-04:00

ONE “Gimme another.” Darren Lunsford sat at the dark mahogany bar in The Second Time Around and tossed back the whiskey the bartender passed to him. Few people filled the bar so early in the morning, but those that did shared his level of enthusiasm. Normally he idly enjoyed the bar’s old world charm, it’s dark, smoke-stained paneling not overly cluttered with black and white photographs

Cathttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05424146421701032149noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7144785068024676197.post-29254330404693265062013-03-28T22:40:00.001-04:002013-03-28T22:40:09.991-04:00

Chapter 5 Mattie sighed and let her forehead hit the table. “What’s the long face for?” Hilda was sitting across from her in the library while they worked. Mattie had her history books spread around her while Hil looked over past accounting books. “My plan to get back at Wil is stupid.” She’d stolen some pasta dough from the kitchen and planned to put it in his pillow. Her sister groaned

Cathttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05424146421701032149noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7144785068024676197.post-57897764401073381782013-03-07T16:40:00.002-05:002013-03-07T16:40:44.296-05:00

Seriously, rejoice! I NEVER write poetry and really dislike reading it, but I just joined what I thought would be a helpful writing site and the only contest I can enter is writing a 5-7-5 poem (a haiku, only broader in terms of topics). I went ahead and entered and this was the result: Becoming an Adult Sake, cold and tart Supposedly refreshing Reminds of cough syrup This is the story of my

Cathttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05424146421701032149noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7144785068024676197.post-21474956752797378872013-01-31T11:12:00.002-05:002013-03-28T22:39:19.691-04:00

Most of the boys grumbled about the seven o’clock breakfast Monday morning, but Mattie was used to it. Sleeping late was not conducive to spending as much time away from her mother’s sitting room as possible and waking early meant spending more time watching the Guards train. “Are you going to eat that?” Walter asked, pointing at the boiled egg on her plate. “Yes, but I’m sure Agnes will give

Cathttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05424146421701032149noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7144785068024676197.post-33665483100414225002013-01-29T21:20:00.000-05:002013-02-28T18:20:53.770-05:00

So, it's no secret that I enjoy doing research for my books and sharing it with others. Had I been thinking about it, I'd have included the research I'd done for Life Goes On  in the print version (reality is that I'd totally forgotten about the research because after about halfway through it was no longer necessary). Anywho. Here's my list of sources for Guarding Princess (name may change)

Cathttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05424146421701032149noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7144785068024676197.post-42137826205098688292013-01-28T20:56:00.003-05:002013-03-28T22:37:25.885-04:00

Mattie watched as her classmates helped move the benches and tables back to their usual places. She looked down at her dress and sighed. “It’s okay Mat, we’ll make sure you work later,” David murmured as he passed her with a table. “No, it’s not okay. I’m not an invalid,” she grumbled. “Of course not. You’re just garmently challenged with a mother who will ring your neck if you tear that

Cathttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05424146421701032149noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7144785068024676197.post-73111009159486826762013-01-27T22:41:00.002-05:002013-02-28T23:07:09.738-05:00

So, this really isn't supposed to be a place where I blog my thoughts (that'd be Daily Dose), but I'm working on the third chapter of Guarding Princess and "its" happened again. If you've never written a piece of fiction, then you probably think the way I did that when author's say something along the lines of "the character speaks to me" or "the plot just had to go in that direction," they

Cathttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05424146421701032149noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7144785068024676197.post-51145369507415671362013-01-26T21:16:00.003-05:002013-03-28T22:36:54.779-04:00

Crap. Mattie had hoped that the mystery woman was just a duchess or a countess. But to meet a queen while she was covered in mud…not good. “Your Majesty.” Mat gave her best Guards worthy bow. “Please forgive my appearance. I was just going to the baths. Mother.” She gave her mum a nod and turned to make a hasty retreat. “Matilda, or should I call you Mattie? Wait. Your mother told me about

Cathttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05424146421701032149noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7144785068024676197.post-83621053280706177602013-01-26T21:15:00.001-05:002013-03-28T22:36:09.440-04:00

Chapter 1  “Matilda!” Captain Harold Christensen frowned down at the small ten-year-old who stepped to the starting line. The crushed, wide brimmed hat hid the impish face that would more often than not be found watching his Guards practice. But today her face held none of its usual excitement, instead replaced with sheer stubbornness. Christensen knew that nothing was going to stop her

Cathttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05424146421701032149noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7144785068024676197.post-7825211617942799122012-12-28T21:20:00.000-05:002013-01-26T20:44:27.698-05:00

So, I found out that amazon.com now has a self-publishing company. It's pretty simple to use and FREE and I've decided to go through with it. You can still read the first five chapters of Life Goes On (links below). The price is $7.00 US and is available in paperback through Createspace, Amazon, and is also available for Kindle. Read chapters 1-5: Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Chapter

Cathttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05424146421701032149noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7144785068024676197.post-16976318158919791492012-12-03T16:16:00.003-05:002012-12-30T11:49:06.783-05:00

CHAPTER 1 I’ve lived too damn long. I sighed and started copying the questions Professor Barnes was writing on the board. Our midterm was in two weeks and Barnes was one of those teachers who gave us all the questions in advance but he’d choose two to be answered on the actual test day. I wasn’t much of a fan of the system because it took away the adrenaline rush that comes with the unknown

Cathttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05424146421701032149noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7144785068024676197.post-80852120308369145072012-12-03T16:14:00.000-05:002012-12-30T11:49:31.097-05:00

CHAPTER  2 My apartment isn’t too large, but bigger than the one’s usually rented by second year college students. I tossed my keys into the 19th century Tiffany bowl someone had given me two centuries before, and went into the kitchen to put a small macaroni and cheese casserole from the freezer into the oven. I do not miss the old days where I kept a pot of stew in front of the fire

Cathttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05424146421701032149noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7144785068024676197.post-9993817522499136142012-12-03T16:10:00.000-05:002012-12-30T11:50:39.151-05:00

CHAPTER 3 Professor Barnes wasn’t in class on Thursday. Nick walked into the classroom about five minutes after it was supposed to start, looking slightly green. I learned why when he walked to the computer to load a presentation before standing behind the podium. He took a deep breath and focused his eyes on a spot on the wall at the back of the room. “Professor Barnes is sick and he

Cathttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05424146421701032149noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7144785068024676197.post-13711055194229075402012-12-03T16:05:00.002-05:002012-12-30T11:51:03.605-05:00

CHAPTER 4 Saturday was busy at the Habitat job site. There were about twenty-five people volunteering, plus a couple of Habitat employed contractors. One of the people in my carpool overslept so we were late getting there and were given the less popular jobs—as the last person to arrive with a car, I had lunch duty. I’m not sure if I should complain or not since it gave me a break from my

Cathttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05424146421701032149noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7144785068024676197.post-89234712534373454252012-12-03T16:00:00.001-05:002013-01-11T15:55:51.207-05:00

CHAPTER 5 On Monday afternoon I went to see Professor Barnes. Nick was already sitting in the small lounge outside the offices reading when I approached. We hadn’t seen or talked to each other since Sunday morning and he set aside his book as he stood awkwardly. “Hey.” He’d shoved his hands into his pockets and avoided my eyes. “Hello.” I smiled slightly at him. Being close to him was

Cathttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05424146421701032149noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7144785068024676197.post-50025317365418376432012-04-05T12:46:00.001-04:002013-01-11T16:00:07.282-05:00

I HATE it when I read something that is historically related and it leaves me wondering where truth ends and fiction begins. There is a distinct variety of historical writing: *Non-fiction and has well documented resources. I like these and I respect them. *Historical Fiction that mearly glances at the historical era. I enjoy these books for the most part since the history isn't a focus

Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7144785068024676197.post-78856850112399848202012-01-05T17:51:00.000-05:002012-03-30T21:18:13.993-04:00

The months that passed were the happiest of my life. Nathan and I had to learn how to keep our relationship secret especially when we bumped into each other in public places. It was difficult to keep my mouth shut when we found ourselves in line together at the supermarket and the girl behind the check-out counter flirted with him. I couldn’t hide the eye-roll I gave when she doubled his

Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7144785068024676197.post-4419595665013613892012-01-05T02:04:00.000-05:002012-01-05T11:22:48.517-05:00

I woke up to the feeling of lips on mine. “Whaa?” I opened my eyes and saw Nathan looking down at me. Oh, I wish I was more coherent in the morning—I felt like a moron. “Good morning,” he whispered smiling. “ ’Morning,” I groaned. “What time is it?” I looked around, trying to see the clock without my glasses. “Early. I have to go so I can get ready for work.” He’d already gotten dressed. “

Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7144785068024676197.post-60326771588502562562012-01-03T11:55:00.001-05:002012-01-03T15:57:16.402-05:00

Chapter 10 I didn't wake up until nearly 7:30. "Shit," I grumbled groggily. I quickly grabbed my stuff and stumbled to the nurse's station. "Can I borrow your phone?" "Sure." The nurse smiled in a way that made me worry. "Nathan, hey. Sorry about being late. I didn't expect to sleep so long." "It's fine. I called the hospital when I got here and you weren't back yet. They told me you were

Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0