Show Posts

This section allows you to view all posts made by this member. Note that you can only see posts made in areas you currently have access to.


Topics - rewh2oman

Pages: [1] 2 3 4 5
1
All the Write Questions / Where To Go ?
« on: April 09, 2018, 12:22:48 AM »
Folks

I have a couple short-story ideas.

What has been your experience as to the best way to find publishers (websites or hard copy) willing to read/buy them?

I’m also thinking about creating a webpage or blog page to post the stories, but need help in getting traffic to those sites.

Any guidance is appreciated.

russ


2
All the Write Questions / Which sentence is better?
« on: February 02, 2012, 06:34:13 PM »
Which sentence is preferred, and why?

#1
He used his sun baked hand to wipe away the foul aftertaste from his mouth and chin.

#2
Using his sun baked hand; he wiped his mouth and chin of the foul aftertaste.

...thanks, russ





3
All the Write Questions / Gun Sound
« on: December 15, 2010, 03:39:04 PM »
How do you write the sound of a "gun" firing? e.g., pop, bang, bam ?

4
Review My Work / In Remembrance
« on: May 28, 2010, 04:12:23 PM »
If this could be critiqued I would appreciate it.
...russ


My wife often called him, “the big guy”. I think she was referring to his heart. From the outset she knew he was special. I soon came to the same conclusion.

Max was far from ordinary.

His life began having corrective leg operations at less than a year old. A short time later he was involved in a car accident and suffered a spinal cord injury. We were told he’d never walk again. Max had other ideas. Bucking the odds with his determination, months of physical therapy after surgery and receiving lots of love, he got back on his feet. And although he hobbled along with a major limp, he accomplished what only a couple of us thought he could.

Throughout his years, life threw more challenges in his path. He met and conquered them all. Nothing kept him down long. Later in life when he had lost his ability to move entirely, he still let his thoughts be known.
 
He endured, and overcame, more in life that most of us couldn’t even imagine. Using his courage, strength and a lot of stubbornness, he surpassed even our belief in his will to survive. Max was the definition of living. And he did it to the max, smelling every rose along the way.

With his endless patience and tolerance, he also calmly overlooked our faults and forgave our transgressions. He taught us these things. In his sometimes unsubtle way, he demonstrated perseverance, grit and his unconditional love. His zest for life was absolute.

The day before he passed, the sky was dark and the temperature cold. We knew his time was close. We had known that for a month. On his last morning the warm sun rose in a cloudless sky. Max, still seemingly full of life, passed into God’s hands. I smiled when I looked up into that clear blue sky, because I knew God was thankful. God was smiling, too, because he had just made a new friend, Max.

It’s no exaggeration in saying I’ve rarely witnessed a Spirit such as Max’s.

5
The Writers Circle / Free Lance Writers ?
« on: April 14, 2010, 04:33:39 PM »
Does anyone know anything about this site? Is it legit, the type of writing/editing, rate of pay?

http://www.freelancewriters.info/

...thanks, russ

6
Review My Work / Let's Drink On It (880)
« on: March 26, 2010, 10:49:01 AM »
OK, what's wrong with this story?



Let’s Drink On It


Dean and I used to talk about it. Not a lot. Being young and horny we usually couldn’t think past parties and girls. But, if it ever came, we did have a plan.

With our Coleman cooler packed with ice and beer, and surfboards in tow, we planted ourselves in our normal spot on the sand, just north of the pier; a quick jaunt to the Pacific.

“It looks like we have the place to ourselves today, Russ. What say we break open the snacks and brews? It’s almost noon.”

Dean was a glass half-full kind of guy. On the other hand my glass usually ran on empty. Popping the tops I handed him a beer.

Dean took a long drink, “where are all the babes today?”

“It beats the hell out of me. I was talking to Jim and Ben a couple days ago and their families are heading up the coast, along with everybody else it looks like.” Chugging my beer dry, “maybe we should’ve, too?”

Our parents left town as well, trying to escape, while Dean and I stayed behind.

“Nah, we have a plan. Running’s not gonna help. We got a front-row seat. And look at that view! This is God’s country. Here’s where we need to be.”

I grabbed another beer and breathed in the fresh salty air, grinning. Dean was right. If it was going to happen, I was in the right place.

Tearing open a bag of Lays chips I offered some up to Dean. “Here, have some potato chips, you need a reason to drink more beer.”

“No, I don’t,” said Dean, stroking his black beard. He smiled and reached over to me with his beer. Toasting with our bottles and being a bit on edge, we couldn’t help but laugh.

The moment was broken by thunderous sounds overhead. Drowning out the reassuring waves crashing on the shore were the sonic booms of dozens of F18s heading east.

“Man, that’s loud,” I said.

“They’re coming from Miramar and in a hurry, too. I’ve never seen so many of them all at once,” Dean said, shaking his head. “Get a couple more beers and keep them coming. I think we’re going to need ’em.”

Retreating to our beach chairs we sat without saying a word, inhaling our beers. Brushing my shoulder length hair aside, I wiped the sweat from my forehead, again and again. Dean's leg-twitching habit went into overdrive; digging a hole in the sand with his feet.

“There’s a ton of ’em,” I said, shouting to be heard.

Dean glanced over at me. His usual smile was gone.

The minutes rolled by and so did the planes. The F18s gave way to B-52s and the B-2 Stealth. I recognized them from the air shows at March AFB. Most I’d never seen before. Vapor trails sliced the sky. They must have emptied Miramar, Vandenberg, all of them.

As the number of planes slowly ebbed, we began to see dark patches across the seascape. I thought maybe they’re storm clouds? No, that can’t be it. I continued to stare at the distant figures, watching them become more uniform in shape; flat with puffy sides. Their centers were a violent white, almost blinding. The horizon was almost full of them now. And they were on the move. The darkness was heading our way. Fast!

“What is that?” I said, clearing my throat.

I didn’t expect Dean to reply. We already knew the answer.

The air raid sirens started suddenly. I jumped and nearly pissed myself. Its screaming was telling those within earshot that it knew what was coming, too.

A sudden warm breeze came off the Pacific, hitting us square in the face. As the force and heat of the wind intensified, I swallowed hard, “care for another brew, buddy? I think it’s going to be our last cold one.”

“You bet, hit me!”

“Hey look, some of our fighters are coming back!”

“I don’t think those are ours,” mumbled Dean. He wiped his eyes and looked skyward. The air was filling with clouds of ash and fire. Death began to rain from the bombers. Then they too disappeared in a fiery ball. In the near distance were bright shades of white and orange, surrounded by huge plumes of smoke that reached the top of the sky.

Soon, it would be here.

The burning wind kept increasing, searing our skin, poisoning our bodies. Huge waves ate the shoreline. I saw the last remnants of the pier on fire. Then Mother Earth spoke with a series of earthquakes, knocking us to the ground.

As the bombs fell just offshore with the inferno racing toward us, we stood.
My body tingled. It burned. I looked at my friend. Like mine his body was melting, too. We gave each other a bear-hug, tight.

“Love you, brother! Thanks for always being there,” I said, no longer holding back the tears.

“I love you, too, Russ! I’m proud to have called you my friend.”

Raising his beer high in the air, I saw that infectious grin returning to his face. And that made me smile. Looking at me in the eyes, Dean commanded, “Salute!”

Toasting with our bottles, I said, “God bless us all!”

The entire sky was now on fire.
Then I –

The End
 

7
The Gallery / Let's Drink On It
« on: March 22, 2010, 11:42:26 AM »
Let’s Drink On It


Dean and I used to talk about it. Not a lot. Being young and horny we usually couldn’t think past parties and girls. But, if it ever came, we did have a plan.

With our Coleman cooler packed with ice and beer, and surfboards in tow, we planted ourselves in our normal spot on the sand, just north of the pier; a quick jaunt to the Pacific.

“It looks like we have the place to ourselves today, Russ. What say we break open the snacks and brews? It’s almost noon.”

Dean was a glass half-full kind of guy. On the other hand my glass usually ran on empty. Popping the tops I handed him a beer.

Dean took a long drink, “where are all the babes today?”

“It beats the hell out of me. I was talking to Jim and Ben a couple days ago and their families are heading up the coast, along with everybody else it looks like.” Chugging my beer dry, “maybe we should’ve, too?”

Our parents left town as well, trying to escape, while Dean and I stayed behind.

“Nah, we have a plan. Running’s not gonna help. We got a front-row seat. And look at that view! This is God’s country. Here’s where we need to be.”

I grabbed another beer and breathed in the fresh salty air, grinning. Dean was right. If it was going to happen, I was in the right place.

Tearing open a bag of Lays chips I offered some up to Dean. “Here, have some potato chips, you need a reason to drink more beer.”

“No, I don’t,” said Dean, stroking his black beard. He smiled and reached over to me with his beer. Toasting with our bottles and being a bit on edge, we couldn’t help but laugh.

The moment was broken by thunderous sounds overhead. Drowning out the reassuring waves crashing on the shore were the sonic booms of dozens of F18s heading east.

“Man, that’s loud,” I said.

“They’re coming from Miramar and in a hurry, too. I’ve never seen so many of them all at once,” Dean said, shaking his head. “Get a couple more beers and keep them coming. I think we’re going to need ’em.”

Retreating to our beach chairs we sat without saying a word, inhaling our beers. Brushing my shoulder length hair aside, I wiped the sweat from my forehead, again and again. Dean's leg-twitching habit went into overdrive; digging a hole in the sand with his feet.

“There’s a ton of ’em,” I said, shouting to be heard.

Dean glanced over at me. His usual smile was gone.

The minutes rolled by and so did the planes. The F18s gave way to B-52s and the B-2 Stealth. I recognized them from the air shows at March AFB. Most I’d never seen before. Vapor trails sliced the sky. They must have emptied Miramar, Vandenberg, all of them.

As the number of planes slowly ebbed, we began to see dark patches across the seascape. I thought maybe they’re storm clouds? No, that can’t be it. I continued to stare at the distant figures, watching them become more uniform in shape; flat with puffy sides. Their centers were a violent white, almost blinding. The horizon was almost full of them now. And they were on the move. The darkness was heading our way. Fast!

“What is that?” I said, clearing my throat.

I didn’t expect Dean to reply. We already knew the answer.

The air raid sirens started suddenly. I jumped and nearly pissed myself. Its screaming was telling those within earshot that it knew what was coming, too.

A sudden warm breeze came off the Pacific, hitting us square in the face. As the force and heat of the wind intensified, I swallowed hard, “care for another brew, buddy? I think it’s going to be our last cold one.”

“You bet, hit me!”

“Hey look, some of our fighters are coming back!”

“I don’t think those are ours,” mumbled Dean. He wiped his eyes and looked skyward. The air was filling with clouds of ash and fire. Death began to rain from the bombers. Then they too disappeared in a fiery ball. In the near distance were bright shades of white and orange, surrounded by huge plumes of smoke that reached the top of the sky.

Soon, it would be here.

The burning wind kept increasing, searing our skin, poisoning our bodies. Huge waves ate the shoreline. I saw the last remnants of the pier on fire. Then Mother Earth spoke with a series of earthquakes, knocking us to the ground.

As the bombs fell just offshore with the inferno racing toward us, we stood.
My body tingled. It burned. I looked at my friend. Like mine his body was melting, too. We gave each other a bear-hug, tight.

“Love you, brother! Thanks for always being there,” I said, no longer holding back the tears.

“I love you, too, Russ! I’m proud to have called you my friend.”

Raising his beer high in the air, I saw that infectious grin returning to his face. And that made me smile. Looking at me in the eyes, Dean commanded, “Salute!”

Toasting with our bottles, I said, “God bless us all!”

The entire sky was now on fire.
Then I –

The End

8
Writers Wanted! / WikiNut
« on: March 05, 2010, 09:42:13 AM »
Hi All

Nick posted this earlier

http://www.mywriterscircle.com/index.php?topic=25492.0

I attempted to solicit feedback asking for anyone’s experience with WikiNut? Is it worth the effort? Is it similar to Helium or Associated Content et al, in the amount of money you can make?

…russ

9
Review My Work / Moonshine Sample (140 words)
« on: February 03, 2010, 03:55:48 PM »
Here’s the beginning of a story (that I alluded to elsewhere, http://www.mywriterscircle.com/index.php?topic=25935.0  ) I’m working on and would like any/all constructive criticisms. Does it grab you? Does it make sense…so far?

thanks, russ


The .22 caliber rifle he held felt good. He caressed it. Stroking its power, a grin creased his withered face. Today was a good day to kill he thought, his eyes narrowing.

Earl Ferguson, Big Earl to his friends, never cared much for people; least of all strangers. He had a particular disdain for those who came to sample his moonshine and not buy. Kissing sixty years and looking seventy, Earl treated bargain hunters with contempt.

“You wanna pay what? This here’s top grain. No cash, no mash!” Earl said, flapping his arms at his customer like he was shooing away chickens, “cheap bastard!”

Hidden in the Smoky backwoods of Cocke County, Tennessee, Big Earl continued the family business of brewing corn whiskey. Most agreed it was the best around, powerful too. Eat your taste buds clean off if’n you weren’t careful.

10
All the Write Questions / Dialog Slang & Accent
« on: January 29, 2010, 04:50:07 PM »
I’m writing a story about a subject and place I know next to nothing about. And yes I am doing research.

The geographical area and how the locals speak are my questions and concern. The location is the South Eastern United States, in the “backwoods”. They have an accent with a way of speaking that I’m not familiar with (using different words).

My question is how actual and factual should I be when my Characters speak? Should I write it like they speak it? Or ignore the location and language difference?

For example: the word “yonder”

Yonder - meaning over there; as far as is within reasonable reach; next to you, in the next room, in the next town, in the next state, but no farther.

"Let's go down yonder to Alabama to visit Uncle Bill."
"I put the camera over yonder."

Any thoughts?

…russ

11
All the Write Questions / he'd versus he'd had
« on: January 26, 2010, 07:13:01 PM »
I’d like your take/POV on the 2 sentences below, focusing on “he’d”, “he’d had”.
Both sentences seem to be grammatically correct. The contraction “he’d” meaning “he had” or “he would”, correct?

Which is correct or sounds better?
Or should I rewrite the sentence?

And pushing sixty he’d plenty of opportunities.

And pushing sixty he’d had plenty of opportunities.

...thanks, Russ

12
Review My Work / Let's Drink On It (575)
« on: October 28, 2009, 06:09:42 PM »
Here's a short story I'd like anyone's thoughts on (good or bad). Please be specific.

...thanks, russ


Let's Drink On It

Dean and I used to talk about it. Not a lot. But just enough so it got stuck in the dark recesses of your brain where fear hides.

When the siren screams and that faithful moment arrives, where will you go and with who? That is, if you have a choice. Will you try to escape or resign yourself to the inevitable?

While others spoke about building underground shelters or running off to the mountains, our thought process was much simpler. Still in our early twenties, young and indestructible, we couldn’t think past girls and parties.

When not working on the local factory’s assembly line, we spent every waking moment on the beach, surfing. Far from looking like your typical surfer: blond, tanned and toned, we still loved the waves and didn’t care what we looked like.

Today with the cooler packed with ice and beer, we planted ourselves in our normal spot on the sand. Just north of the pier; a quick jaunt to the water.

“It looks like we have the place to ourselves today. That’s weird?” said Dean, scanning the beach. “What say we break open the snacks and brews? Sound like a plan?”

“You got it,” I said. Popping the top I handed him a beer.

Taking a long drink, Dean said, “Where are all the babes today?”

“In fact, where’s anybody today?” I said. Not a soul in sight.

It was mid-afternoon. This little stretch of sand usually had its fair share of people enjoying the surf and sun. Today was different.
 
“Jim and Ben told me a couple days ago that their families were heading up the coast. Maybe find a back-way up the mountain. One that’s not so crowded. I guess everyone’s had the same idea. You know, about getting out of town?” I said, chugging my beer dry.

Our parents left town as well, while Dean and I remained behind. We didn’t see the point in leaving. Best friends since childhood, we were closer to each other than to our own families. We were in the perfect spot to confront what was coming.

“Don’t get me wrong, I’m scared to death about what’s going on too, but running around like scared dogs won’t help. No one can hide. You know that. But I guess they think if--”

“Dean, listen!”

Searching the still blue sky for the thunderous noise, we spotted dozens of F18s leaving white vapor trails in their wake, heading east.

“Man, that’s loud.”

“They’re coming from Miramar and in a hurry too. I think it’s goin’ down. I’ve never seen so many of them all at once,” said Dean, shaking his head. “They’ve been pretty active lately, but nothing like this. Get a couple more beers and keep them coming. I think we’re going to need ‘em.”

Retreating to our beach chairs, we inhaled our beers, nervous as hell. Time was short. And we knew it.

Moments later, the sand jumped and inched toward the sea. Air raid sirens wailed. The Earth rumbled and moved under us, crying out in despair. The violent movement happened again. Wiping my eyes, we glanced at each other with heavy thoughts.

We clink our beer bottles in one last salute.

“Cheers buddy. Here’s to having a front seat to the main event!”

“God bless us all, Dean!”

The Earth shook for the last time as we saw the entire sky burn with a brilliant light. Then, there was nothing.



13
All the Write Questions / Interrupting Characters
« on: September 24, 2009, 07:34:44 PM »
I have 2 characters, one begins speaking and then the second interrupts the first. How is that written?

14
All the Write Questions / Clippings
« on: September 17, 2009, 08:36:36 AM »
I need to know if there are any industry standards as to how to put together a compliation of "clippings" in a binder? Is there a formal manner in how this is done or is it all up to the individual?

15
The Coffee Shop / Still Alice
« on: April 06, 2009, 09:52:06 AM »
Success with Self-Publishing

http://www.cnn.com/2009/TECH/04/06/print.on.demand.publishing/index.html?iref=t2test_techmon


Pages: [1] 2 3 4 5