Sheila Rambles

I dreamed that I stood before the throne of God, pointed at Him, and said “So if you’re such a big deal, why aren’t you doing something about poverty and war and oppression?  Why are you just sitting there while the rich put their boots on the necks of the poor and your precious creation is being laid waste to by the greedy and shortsighted?  Why aren’t you doing anything about the suffering down on Earth?” God shifted in His seat, tilted His head, smiled slightly, and replied: “Funny, I was just about to ask you precisely the same questions.”

Please excuse Sheila from working on her novel today as far too much of her evening was taken up wrangling with tech support over the state of her WiFi router.  Thank you.

Please excuse Sheila from working on her novel today as she had a full day working at a new temporary assignment and is still not fully decompressed from Chattacon.

There’s a man in a lavender suit with a featureless face standing on the corner.  He’s flipping a silver coin that glints with a white flash every time it peaks just before the fall back to his gloved hand.  He asks nothing, says nothing, just keeps the coin spinning, spinning, spinning again.  I can tell that he’s waiting for me to come up and ask what he’s doing, ask how to play, ask what bets to place and what I’ll get if I win.  I’ve seen him before.  I know his kind all too well.  I’m not playing his game.

Please excuse Sheila from working on her novel today as she has to make preparations for a trip to Chattanooga.  She is bringing her laptop in the hope of getting work done over the weekend, but don't expect much.  Thank you.

I did a shameless plug of Catbooks and Other Methods on a prominent writer's blog and somebody tweeted me to ask if it was available for the Nook.  Then two of my relatives received Nooks for Christmas and I decided it was probably time to look into that particular publishing avenue. Thankfully, Nook uses the EPUB format, as Apple does, which means I didn't have to burn up yet another ISBN for another ebook format.  So last night we set up an account with PubIt! for Lullwater Press and this morning I did all the uploading and filling out of details. It should be up in the next couple of days and when it is, I'll be yawping about it all over the Internet.

I have no clear memory of this incident (I was three years old at the time) but my mother does and I have no reason to doubt her.  I was squabbling with one of my siblings over a particular toy.  (Which sibling?  Which toy?  The details are lost to me and of no relevance to my mother’s retelling.)  My mother was called on to intervene and decided the case in my favor.   Instead of celebrating, my response was to fling the object of contention at the feet of my rival. “ Have it,” I said.  And with that, I walked away.

Boards creak as she steps up on the stage.  There is a carpet in the center, a cheap mimic of a Persian rug, worn in spots and coated with a layer of beige grime.  A dented microphone stand waits just at the edge.  The spotlight--pale as the moon, blinding as the sun--reduces all that she faces to an indefinite void.  The seats are shadows--full or empty, she cannot tell. An electric fence tingle dances across her lips as they brush the wire mesh of the microphone. “I’m sorry,” she says, “I can’t think of anything to say.”

Please excuse Sheila from working on her novel today as she was setting her New Year's Resolutions in place and seeing Karen Wurl perform at Java Monkey.  Thank you.

Every once in a while I get clobbered over the head with a crazy idea and the next thing you know I've decided to draw and give away ten thousand flowers to people or something.  Last night, as I was celebrating New Year's Eve at my friend Lake's backyard bonfire, I came up with something that had me grabbing my catbook and scribbling it down before it got away.  In the clear light of day, after weighing the possibilities, this is what I've come up with: Once a week, I will post 100 Odd Words on this blog.  It might be a one hundred word poem, one hundred words of flash fiction or even one hundred words of description or dialogue.  It must be exactly 100 words and I will post one every Saturday.  If I remember to, I'll probably tweet and hashtag it with #100oddwords. Fortunately, today is Sunday, so that gives me a week to come up with something.  Or several somethings, to account for the weeks that stuff happens.  Hey, if I can draft 50,000 word...