Wednesday, May 15, 2013

Dynamics of Women's Interactions

The group dynamics between women and/or girls is a very interesting one. We all have such distinct personalities  whether we let the world see all pieces of them or not. Growing up I had my sisters constantly around me, but my friends were guys or girls that aligned themselves better with guys (for the most part). Even my sisters had a good amount of male friends although I'm pretty sure they were just around to try and date them. High school was a bad place for all of us, with insecurities swarming our little heads. 

When women get together as adults, the high school thoughts and feelings seem to come back. However, these days were a little older and have more words we've learned that we can use in conversation. This helps us better avoid difficult conversations, or any real topic at all if we've found ourselves check out. A woman can be your best friend or your best nemesis, and you'd never be able to tell the difference in the daylight. No matter what, some sort of insecurities exist in each of us because we've grown up in and around it. We just can't help it. 

Tonight, I told a group of my female friends that I have no insecurities, and that may not be totally true. I think some of my insecurities have caused me to be who I am. Loud, outgoing, talkative, jumpy - all of these come from my insecurity of being alone. I really don't like it, so I've found if I ignore how I sometimes feel about me, I'll talk to more people and constantly be surrounded. Then I don't have to sit at home thinking of all my faults. I know they exist, but I think I've trained myself to stay so busy I don't dig them out of the deep dark hole of my brain I've buried them in. 

If you happen to find another woman you can talk with, bitch with, cry with, laugh with, go out with, hang out with, that's pretty good. Growing up I had a couple different types of female friends, but mostly we all tried to keep a strong, brave face and didn't talk about the "real" feelings. My sisters got to see all that I hid inside - sometimes. There were some times where I'd watch sappy love movies and cry over a bowl of something sugary and bad for me. 

Now, I'm very grateful to say that I've got female friends who will have fun, kick, scream, and yell with me, including some that have adapted from the fun carefree friendships of childhood.  I'm appreciative of all my female friends out there. Thanks for letting me be me, without having to second guess myself too much. 

Wednesday, May 1, 2013

Attempt to Revive a Story Idea - Possible Contest Entry

One of the magazines I used to submit to in an attempt to get published has an open short-story competition closing at the end of May. Here's the start to an idea for one I've begun playing with.

Life doesn't always work out the way you thought it would.

Kathy Arnold wasn't always the most liked little girl in school. She wasn't always noticed, by teachers or students. She had hazel eyes, almond skin, and her brown, frizzy hair was always up in a bright scrunchy because she was teased when it was down, with some of the boys tugging on it when the teachers looked away.

At home, Kathy was the second of five children, and both her parents worked. By the time she was twelve, she and her older brother were taking care of their younger sister and brothers. 

Maybe over the next two weeks I'll be able to get the rest of this idea plotted out, and give it to someone to review for me before May 31. 

Saturday, April 27, 2013

Beginnings of an Author Bio

So, I found that author biography I had been working on about myself awhile back that I never posted. HEre it is:


Jennifer graduated from Mississippi State University in 2005 with her Bachelor’s Degree in Communication.  She was the first of four daughters to go to the home state of their fathers alma mater. 

Jennifer’s passion for writing began when she was eight years old.  Her mother handed her a multi-colored spiral journal and asked her to document her life so that her mother could see what Jennifer was doing. 

She remembers writing in diaries every year and never fully finishing one before beginning another.

Jennifer’s earliest memory of writing was a ten sentence song/poem called “Daddy’s Little Ticket” that she typed and printed so her mother could review it.  She remembers her mom laughing while complementing the accomplishment and pushing Jennifer to expand the work.  Her mother’s kind guidance led Jennifer to completing a full three verse song, with a chorus to link them.  No melody was ever written, but Jennifer does sing it to a tune in her head.  

Jennifer spent her ages 10-13 attempting to form bands with her three sisters and close female friends, while writing lyrics for possible songs.  Eventually she adapted her writing to poetry and short-story form as she found her favorite authors to be Louisa May Alcott, Earnest Hemmingway and Jane Austen.  In high school she continued to journal and began online journal / blogs.  Both her mother and father supported her passion for writing and urged her to continue her poetry and short stories.  In late high school she began to plot several stories that she wanted to create. 

When she entered college some of her writing took the back burner as she was in a new state meeting new people, but in the winter of 2006/2007 she completed her first manuscript – Here I am Again.  With this completion she began to plot more stories and finished several other short stories.  One creative writing class with a new professor, Mike Kardos.  

I'll need to add some information of things that happened after 2007, being that now it's 2013 and I've done a few more things. 

Saturday, March 30, 2013

Thoughts on a Friday Night

I'm sitting with my husband after watching Argo, and I am so glad for all I have. I've got him, my family, his family, friends, a job, my dogs, a roof over my head. All in all, good things are happening for me.

I think this is why it's been so difficult to write...no really, stay with me.

When I was lonely, broke, and depressed all the time, I took to my writing. It was an in-expensive way to retreat. It was better than drinking or getting into drugs, and I couldn't throw myself into exercising all hours of the day. People can only run so much in one day.

Lately I've been reading a bit more. I've been thinking a lot more. And I've even gone to pick up a pen a couple times. I have a little notebook a friend gave me for Christmas that sparked my interest again. It's a very cute, small, pocket-sized notebook that stays with me and reminds me to write. The only writing it's received though is one shopping list.

Writing is my passion. I need to get over whatever these walls are that I've been letting myself stay at and just jump over. I've got several pretty decent ideas.

Time to let the pen flow.

Wednesday, May 11, 2011

Need to write an author bio...

I've had many people pushing me lately to write, which is a great feeling. So many people believe in me. I've got a couple of things that I need to do. Write an author bio, write a synopsis of my finished book, and finish one of the other many projects I'm working on.

I've been at a lull lately. I just started a new job, which is great! I'm a Marketing Coordinator for an Engineering Firm. It's just been so much to take in these past three weeks, that I haven't been writing. I keep getting poked at by Chad asking me if I've written. I'm going to get back on it. I feel like so many of these post say that in the past year, but I really will. All it will take is a good spark and I'll write like I did when I finished my first book. :-)

SOON to come - the first draft of my author bio!

Tuesday, March 29, 2011

A short story that needs a bit more editing

Too Many Husbands


Michael ran out into the snow trying to get away from their voices. They always got him in trouble, but he couldn’t find a way to get rid of them.
“You can’t run from this conversation,” Johnny said.

“Just leave me alone,” screamed Michael. “Go away!”

“You can’t force me from where I belong,” said Nick. “I’m not going anywhere.”

“You are the worst. Do you know how much I’ve hurt myself? Do you know how much more trouble I could get in?” Michael paced back and forth leaving patches of grass without snow in the places he stomped.

“You were sloppy with the ATM, and that’s not my fault,” Nick said.

“I lost Heather, I was investigated for a felony and my boss fired me.” Michael sat down in the snow. “That wasn’t all my fault!”

“Calm down, drama queen,” said Johnny, “we haven’t asked that much of you this time. We just want you to leak a bug into a university website. And don’t be sloppy.”

“Oh, of course that's not too much.” Michael shivered. “You always ask too much. Just go away.”

Logan sighed. “Go back inside and get a jacket. You’ll freeze to death out here.”


When Michael was twelve he tried out for the middle school football team. His parents moved to a new city for work, so he had to make new friends. (Kids made fun of him, called him names, bullied him, Nick was born to protect him. After his mom died, Logan was born to take care of him. Johnny is the kind, assertive one.)



Michael looked ahead at the road. All roads would be closed until the next morning. He wouldn’t be able to leave until then.

“Michael, think of it this way,” Johnny said, “if you just do what we ask you’ll be happier.”

“And how is that?” asked Michael.

“I’ll leave Heather alone,” said Nick. “You remember what happened last time when you didn’t. She almost left you.”

“Leave her out of this.”


Last time, when Michael tried to tell them he wouldn't hack into his bank's ATM to steal money, he found himself with blood all over his hands. When he went into the kitchen he saw the blue and purple around Heather's swollen left eye and the blood she was washing from her mouth. He tried to hug her, but she flinched and backed away.

“Don't touch me,” she screamed. “What's wrong with you?”

“Baby, I'm sorry,” he whispered. “I should have just done what they wanted.”

“You just need help.” She turned the faucet off and went to her bedroom. She found her suitcase in the closet and began packing some clothes. He followed her to the room and said, “No, please, you can't leave.”

“The hell I can't,” she said. “Stay away from me.”

“Where are you going?”

“It's none of your business.” She went into the bathroom and grabbed a few toiletries and threw them in a travel case. He followed her into the bathroom and stood in the doorway, so she pushed past him to put the case on top of the clothes and slammed the suitcase shut.

When she looked back at him she saw that his eyes were red and swollen from crying. She loved him. She hated seeing him in pain, but she hated black eyes and a bleeding mouth more.

Heather sat down on the bed. “You have to go to the doctor, Michael. You have to get help.” She grabbed her charger from the bedside and put it in a side pocket in her suitcase. “I'll be at my mom's. Let me know when you do something about this.”


That was about a year and a half ago. Remembering this made Michael even angrier. He began to swing at the air.

“You look silly right now,” said Logan. “Calm down and go back inside so you don’t catch a cold.”

“Maybe that’s what I want,” said Michael. “Maybe everyone would be better off if I was gone.”

“Don’t be stupid,” Nick said, “we couldn’t do this without you. Without you the job doesn't get done. People have to learn a lesson.”

“Not by stealing and killing and ruining people's lives.” Michael shifted nervously.

“I know what you’re thinking,” screamed Nick. “You really want me to force you to do this, don’t you. Watch what happens to those that don’t listen.” Nick started walking towards the house.

“No.” Michael did not know what to do. “Leave her out of this. I told you she has nothing to do with this!”

“You know how he gets,” Logan said. “You shouldn't have thought to run away.”

“Oh, Heather,” said Nick.

“No, please don’t,” Michael said helplessly.

“Yes, sweetheart?” Heather asked.

Nick walked towards her and slapped her across the face.

“Stop this,” she screamed. “You promised this was over. Please.”

“But he didn’t listen,” Nick said. “He never listens to us, and this is the only way he will.”


Heather had come back about a month after she left, since Michael had been in therapy and on a mild medication. She didn't agree to return until she had a joint meeting with Dr. Green.

“Sure, you should be fine to go home,” Dr. Green said. “As long as you keep to the therapy and stay on the medication, Michael.”

“I will,” Michael told him.

“You could seriously hurt her, remember that.” Michael nodded. “Do you feel comfortable having her come back home?”

“I do. I miss her so much.”

“Are you comfortable moving home?” Dr. Green a asked Heather.

“As long as you say it's safe. I miss home,” she said.

Michael went ten months without missing an appointment. He and Heather were happier than they had been since the first couple years of marriage. Then he started missing appointments or showing up late. But he always had some excuse: work, traffic, vacation with the family.

His weekly appointments became twice a month. Twice a month became once a month. Now, he hadn't seen Dr. Green in a month and a half at least.


“Stop, please, sweetheart.” Heather screamed and Nick pushed her to the floor.

“You see what happens when you don’t listen,” Johnny said. “If you just agree, say you’ll take care of the problem.”

Heather’s screams continued until Michael finally yelled, “Fine, I'll go along with the stupid plan. I’m so sorry, Heather. I’m so sorry.”

“Get off of me,” she yelled. “You said this was over. You said you wouldn’t do this anymore.”

“I know,” Michael said as he looked away. “I love you.”

“I told you last time was the last time,” said Heather, “I’m leaving. I can’t believe you.”

“You see,” Michael screamed. “Now she’s leaving, and it’s all your fault.”

“Michael, stop it,” Heather said. She grabbed his hands. The blood on him got all over her. “Do you see this, this is your fault.”

Michael shook his head and fell to the ground, blood staining his face as he wiped tears away.

“I’m so sorry, Heather,” Michael cried over and over.

“It’s all your fault,” Nick said. “Did you hear that, Michael? She doesn’t blame me, she blames you. I told you she was no good. Why won’t you let me take care of her?”

“I love her,” Michael cried.

“It’s too late for that,” said Heather. “I’ll be gone by morning when they clear the roads.”

“No. You can’t go.” Michael was getting fearful.

“Nick is going to do his thing,” Johnny said. “Then he'll take care of the work problem if you won't.”

“People will learn to listen to you, Michael,” said Logan. “She has caused problems for us every time we have a new plan. She makes you go to the doctor.”

“But Dr. Green makes sense,” Michael said. “You three don’t.”

“Of course Dr. Green makes sense,” said Heather. “I can’t believe you stopped seeing him. I told you they’d come back.”

“Michael, she’s leaving you anyway,” Nick yelled at him. “I’m going to take care of her.”

“No.” Michael pulled himself back onto the porch. “I won’t let you. Heather, you’re not safe with me around. Get yourself to a safe place.”

“Stupid man.” Nick took over again.

“Michael, what do you mean?” Heather asked from the hallway. “You already beat the shit out of me once today. That’s all that ever happens.”

“You’re right,” said Nick, grinning. “Once is all that ever happens. Let’s go sit down.” Nick walked back inside and smiled at her.

“No,” Michael yelled. “Don’t sit with me.”

“She can’t hear you.” Logan paused. “I warned you. You should have listened.”

“No,” screamed Heather. Nick grabbed her arms and pulled her close to him. She struggled to get free, but he just pulled her body closer to him. “Let me go!”

Heather pierced her right heel into his foot and he released an arm. She grabbed at the air, trying to find something to pull her away. Her hand brushed a picture frame on the wall, then fell back to her side. He quickly regained his grasp on her arm.

“Are you watching, Michael?” Nick asked. “Get a good look at what happens to people who don't listen.”

“Let me go!” she screamed again.

Nick forced a kiss on her and she bit his lip. “So, more of a fight in you this time,” he laughed. “I'll fix that.”

He shoved her against the wall and used one hand to hold her. He swung to hit her again, but she moved her head and his hand scratched the paint. Heather grabbed the 8 by 10 inch picture of her and Michael off the wall.


“I found this frame for our wedding portrait,” she said to Michael about four months ago. “What do you think?”

Heather loved to shop. The house was exactly the way she had always imagined it, but her imagination seemed to change all the time. The house changed with her.

“How much was it?” he asked.

“Does that matter?” She opened it up and popped the wedding photo into place. “See how good we look.”

“We're supposed to be on a budget.” She smiled at him and pushed the frame into his hands. He looked at it for a few moments, then back at her. “You are beautiful.”

“Will you hang it on the wall for me?” she asked. “It matches my grandma's vase. I'm going to move it to the hallway after I get a stand in here. They'll look great. The perfect thing to see when people walk in the door.”

“No more extra purchases until we get more money in savings, deal?” he asked.

“I'll do my best.” She kissed him and headed back out to the car to get the other things she bought while at the store.


Heather felt the frame in her hand and tried to keep a good grip on it. While Nick was moving around she slammed the frame so that the glass shattered all over his face.

Nick grabbed at his face and pushed her away. She fell to the floor and slowly started crawling away.

“I do like the spunk, but I'm just about tired of you not listening,” Nick growled. He turned, looking for her and grabbed her by the hair to pull her back when he spotted her.

“Let her go,” Michael stammered. “I'll do whatever you want, just leave her alone.”

“I don't think we get a say in this anymore,” Johnny sighed. “I've never seen him this crazy.”

“Crazy, Johnny. You want crazy?” Nick grabbed the vase from the hallway. “You love this vase, don't you, Heather?”

“Michael, stop it,” Heather demanded. She was trying to pry his hands from her hair.

“The name is Nick.” He pushed her up against the wall again and slammed the vase into the side of her body, with pieces scattering all over the floor. Heather didn't react, but the water in her eyes along with the blood trailing her arm gave away her pain. “How do you like that vase now?”

Heather slumped down on the wall and grabbed her knees. “Michael, stop this please. It's me.” She had no control over her tears anymore.

“I'm sorry, Michael is a coward and no longer gets a say.” Nick pulled her back up and hit her again. When she didn't scream, he did it again.

“Help!” she yelled. “Help, me--” She slumped back down on the floor. Nick kicked her again.

Michael fought to gain control. “Why are you doing this? I need her. Heather, I'm sorry. I'm so sorry.” Michael was sobbing.

“She was a problem, and I fixed that problem,” Nick said.

“Let me have her,” Michael said. “Haven't you done enough?” Everyone else was quiet.

“What? You want to finish the job?” Nick laughed. “She's not going to make it much longer.”

Michael picked her up and walked to the bedroom. He laid her on the bed and went to wet a wash cloth in the bathroom.

“She's going to leave you once she can move again,” Logan whispered. “You know that, right?”

“Shut up!” Michael sat next to her and used the washcloth to wipe away some of the blood.

“I didn't kill her,” Nick snapped. “Now, do what I've asked.”

“She's barely breathing,” Michael screamed. “I'm not doing anything for you, ever again.”

“She doesn't have to be breathing at all,” Nick hissed. “Now do what I've told you to do.”

Michael got up and went to the bathroom. He grabbed a prescription bottle and popped it open.

“What do you think that will do?” Johnny asked.

“I'll make you go away,” he said. “I'll make all of this disappear.” He turned the faucet on and grabbed the cup from the counter to get some water. “I won't let you hurt her anymore.”

“If you kill me, you kill you,” Nick said. “You’re spineless. You have no fight in you. Don't pretend you're going to do something grand. Just send the virus.”

Michael dumped the contents of the prescription bottle in his hand and dropped the fifteen to twenty pills in his mouth. He pushed the cup to his lips and let the water carry the pills down his throat.

“Stop!” Nick screeched. “You're ruining everything.”

Michael walked back into the bedroom and sat next to Heather. He brushed the hair out of her face and took her hands into his.

“You have to throw the pills up,” Nick said, panicking.

“You need us,” Logan mumbled.

“He's not listening anymore.” Johnny laughed. “I guess he's not so weak anymore, Nick.”

“You need to send that virus!” Nick was getting frantic.

Michael laid down next to Heather and noticed she wasn't moving. “Heather?” he questioned. He shook her shoulders. “Heather, no, please. Wake up, sweetheart.” He kept moving her. “Nick, you bastard! You killed her.” He leaned his face to her mouth and felt nothing. No breath coming from her mouth.

“Check for a pulse,” Johnny's muffled voice said.

Michael put two fingers to her wrist and waited. No feeling. Her body was getting cold. He pulled the blanket out from under her and put it over her body. “I'll take care of you,” he sobbed. “I love you, Heather.”

Nick's cackling laugh could faintly be heard, but it was enough for Michael to scream, “I'll kill you!”

He jumped off the bed and leaped into the bathroom. His razor was sitting on the counter, next to the pink and blue toothbrushes. “You'll never hurt her again.” Michael grabbed the razor and slid it down his left arm.

He groaned as the blood poured down his arm. “Nothing to say now?” he howled. “No witty comment, you son of a --” Michael ran the razor down the other arm and it fell from his hands. He collapsed onto the bathroom floor crying out, “I love you, Heather. I'm sorry. I'm so sorry.”

Michael's sentences started to become unclear. He mumbled several things over and over. He saw a flash of something. A memory. The only thing he could remember.


Michael saw her, walking down in the most beautiful white dress. Just her, in a beautiful dress. The most beautiful dress. Heather never let him see it till the wedding. She was beautiful. She was his beautiful wife. In nothing but white.


Friday, February 18, 2011

Great lines...

...from great writers!

"What can I do to you, I'm only a shadow." -Singing in the Rain

This line stuck out as he leaned in to make her nervous in the beginning of the movie. Great lines really do make great stories. It develops characters and keeps things interesting. When people say monotonous things, it's not even like real life. All people say interesting and different things. They make comments to make us laugh, cringe, cry, shout, jump, REACT. Writers should provoke people to react. Another goal of mine is to get people to do. Provoking change or at the very least thought would give me the greatest since of accomplishment.

To the writers out there, remember that cliches don't provoke much thought and should be used carefully and tastefully. Write the words that turn heads, like all the little black dresses of the world. :-)