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Why I Write
When I write, I draw on my experiences as a woman with a painful past, a rapturous wife and mother, a world traveler, and a spiritualist. For me, writing is an art form. Like an artist, the work becomes more than I imagined it would be. When I set out to write a story with a particular idea or character in mind, words I cannot claim as my own flow from a magical and mysterious place through me and onto paper. The work takes on a life of its own; it is living art. The process fascinates me, satiates me, and makes my life more meaningful.
Please read my stories! If you would like to offer me feedback on my work, please click here and sign up for a free membership: https://heftynicki.Writing.com
I hope to see you there!
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Blog, Blog, Blog #721352 added April 2, 2011 at 5:53pm
Restrictions: None
'B' is For...?
It's Day Two of the A to Z Blogfest and Jessica Bell and I are going strong. See, we teamed up for this adventure with the hopes of stretching our writing muscles. Be sure to follow the link at the bottom of this post to her blog.
Here's the deal: We have created a top secret list of A-Z prompt words to inspire our blogfest entries. The words are all nouns, and they are all emotions. We challenged ourselves to come up fictional entries that 'show' a character(s) in the grips of the emotion of the day. We ask you, awesome reader, to read my entry (since you're here) and guess, in the comments, what emotion I've depicted. Then shoot over and read Jessica's entry. Still think you've guessed correctly? Let her know! (And natch, if you happen upon her blog first, in future, won't you shoot over here after you comment there? :D)
So, without further ado, here's my 'B' entry. What 'B' emotion have I described??
Jenna stared into the deep, inky pools of Cliff’s eyes. Had it just been two hours ago that she’d felt lost in them? The urge to glance at her wristwatch (again) and verify the time was strong, but she resisted. Instead, she forced her eyes wider, just a tab more, and redirected her focus to the tiny mole just northeast of the bridge of his chiseled nose. In her peripheral vision, a waiter in black and white passed with a tray of steaks, sizzling on cast iron plates. The smell taunted her famished stomach. Cliff was still talking, his words mingling with the restaurant’s din. She admitted he was the most handsome blind date she’d ever gone out with, hands down. But he’d turned out to be all looks. His conversation dominated the evening, his baritone voice a constant drone of self-proclaimed accolades that left her wishing she carried a pistol in her purse. The question was, who would she aim it at first? Cliff? Her own temple? She narrowed her eyes. No...she'd take a shot at Sara, her soon-to-be ex-friend who’d set her up in the first place.
Figured out what emotion that starts with 'B' I described? I can't wait to read your comment :))
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