Writing Contest + Publications!

Hey, all:

I got some news: my short story got published on Short Fiction Break, an online magazine!

Last month I submitted my short story in a contest on thewritepractice.com. Great site. It gives you creative writing tips, provides contests (for a fee), and you can post your working stories/chapters in exchange for feedback from other readers. Pay another fee, and you can hire professionals to give you some constructive criticism.

For so for this contest, our assignment was to write a short story, no longer than 1500 words. Guidelines: the entire story should take place in one room. Flashbacks don’t count.

The winners should be announced soon, but all the participants, winners or not, get published for three months on the magazine, as long as you workshop your story. I mean, it’s not an especially big hurdle to be published on there, but as you can tell, I am happy I got published for the first time.

Here’s a excerpt of my short story. Take a peek!

*****

Kathy Garcia was nosing around the living room of the lodge, looking for an outlet to charge her phone with, when she nearly threw up.

The nausea came from terror, panic and excitement, and this cocktail of emotions hit because she saw Savian Fletcher in the forefront of the living room, sprawled on a cushy couch and mashing his thumbs against the buttons of an old Gameboy. He didn’t notice Kathy enter.

Kathy let her shock absorb until it was replaced with a nervous euphoria. Savian Fletcher’s neck-long, wavy hair was sprawled so flawlessly against the couch pillow, and even in his casual wear, when he wasn’t in a suit delivering a breathtaking viola solo for the world to witness, he looked beautiful with his shapely nose and piercing green eyes. No, beautiful was an understatement – his good looks coupled with his musical talent made him Apollo reincarnate.

She tiptoed towards him and in a quick, giddy gesture slid her hands over his eyes. Savian startled, groped at her hands, and peeled them off as he turned towards her with shining eyes.

“Hey, you,” he said, half-laughing and swatting at her hands in a playful jest. “What are you up to?”

“Oh,” she bantered, “I’ve been looking for an outlet to charge my phone with, but I guess I found you instead.” Then she cupped his face between her hands and leaned in to lock lips with his, a dose of euphoria erupting all over her body at contact…

*****

For the rest of my story, go to the magazine site here. You’ll find me as Tiffany Wright. 😉

Lavender Poodle

First, some news. I am taking a Poetry course at my college, and the prompt was to write about an ordinary object that transformed in some way. And is has to be free verse. Now knowing me (and all my poems on here so far), I don’t write free verse very often because it’s not my favorite poetry style to write in. But so much contemporary American poetry is free verse. Crazy! I much prefer rhyming scenes, but okay then. So I wrote Lavender Poodle based on the prompt.

Second: I’ve written my first guest post! I found lifesfinewine when she liked one of my posts. She writes inspirational quotes, issues on psychological health and positivity, and promotes guest bloggers. So I offered to write a guest post. And guess what? It seems that some people really seem to like it… ;). Check it out here!

*****

She was the the color of her scent

when Mom popped her in for introductions;

she was stuffed full of lavender fragrances

when she crowned my bedside that night;

and one whiff takes me take to Zen zone

intro a headspace I long…forgot.

Crying,

weeping,

sullen,

pining,

I spilled all

the night I cradled my poodle

as though I cradled my long-lost love…

I breathed in the scent

and I forgot all

because I just…

fell…

asleep…

I lost my little poodle one day

I know not where,

all I have is

her heart —

her bean-bag, lavender heart

filled with my love and pain,

and it still pulses

with lavender residue

when I microwave it

and cradle it

like I cradle a long-lost love.

Blue

person with body painting
Photo by Sharon McCutcheon on Pexels.com

A pantoum poetry style.


The carbon copy of a goddess’s design
She beckons me to my internal demise;
Her memories become one with mine
And I am lost, lost in the pools of her eyes.

She beckons me to my internal demise
Till the skin I touch is not my skin anymore;
And I am lost, lost in the pools of her eyes
As they bore into my hollowed core.