Category Archives: Random Writing

For those things that I write that are truly random.

642 Why I’m trying to write a little every day.

21936011

I’m busy. Like really busy, but I love to read and write. So, how does one get better at something even when they’re busy?

They suck it up and make time for it anyway! They stop yammering on about what they’d like to do and they do it.

Anyway, cheerleading aside, I have been a bit absent in my writing. Fortunately, I have an awesome book next to me with lots of chewy, bite-sized writing prompts just waiting to be written about. So that’s just what I’m going to do.

I will be attempting to, little by little, write my way through the Young Adult version of 642 Things to Write About.

But Mrs. Emeigh, you’re an adult!

Pirates. Fairytales. Awesomeness. Besides, I’m not really sure I like being an adult all the time. Also, I like writing for young people, so why not write about those kinds of prompts.

Anyway, enough blah blah blah about the fact that I’m going to write and on with the writing!

Also, as a last note, I make no promises that my numbering is accurate. I’ve tried….three times…to number this book. I’ve managed to get to 642, but only with a slight bit of fudging. Oh well. It can’t be helped.

Advertisements

Remember that Magazine I was getting published in? Well, here it is.

1513802_10102721739409418_8496815114443253797_n

I’m excited to link everyone to my first story publication. Of course you should read more stories than just mine.

There are lots of cool pieces of literature and art in the magazine, and I’d really like to see it get some support. I think it could be a really good outlet for young adult writers.

Please click the link to the issues. It’s the first issue, so it’s very easy to find. My story is called “Mira the Marred.” My picture is even next to it an everything. Please check it out here.

Some news of the awesome variety.

I made a New Year’s resolution. I know, so cliche. My resolution was to start writing more and actually sending some things in. That’s probably part of the reason I have been woefully, shamelessly lax on this here blog.

It was all worth it. A new young adult literature magazine has decided to publish one of my short stories in their first issue this May. They have also decided to feature a short chunk of the story on their website. You can find the link here.

I’d like to say that I was getting paid or that it was some super prestigious magazine. It’s not, but, hey, I’ve gotten something published. I can say with some certainty now that other people, besides family, like what I write. At the moment, that’s worth more than money, so I’ll take the exposure and run with it.

Yay! I’m published-ish.

Adette Price Undercover Witch Chapter 3: Karl

1621803_833355063351902_3116219147487913367_n

Yes it is indeed that time again. Adette is dealing with a rather unusual companion at the moment. See what happens. Will he get bacon?

“Of course, I’m not sure why I’m surprised. I have a dog familiar whose name is Karl of all the ridiculous things.” Adette turned back to her chair. She was now determined to sit and drink her lemonade at all costs. This was not the way her day should be going at all.

“I can hear you, you know,” Karl pointed out.

“I was counting on your ability to hear things.” Adette looked pointedly over the half drunken glass at his ears.

“No need to make fun. They’re very useful and people who don’t know I can talk seem to think they make me look cute.” Karl finished cleaning his paws and stood. His legs weren’t very long so even though he was standing, he was still rather close to the ground. Without being invited he leapt, rather impressively for a dog his size, into the chair on the other side of the table.

“I don’t remember inviting you into that chair,” Adette remarked. Karl raised one eyebrow, which Adette could now see had three whiskers sticking out of it, and considered her.

“Is this how you treat all of your guests?”

Adette downed the other half of her lemonade and poured herself more. “Do you even like lemonade?”

“No, I can’t stand the stuff. I just wanted to make a point. So they didn’t tell you?”

“What was your first clue?” Adette set the glass down on the table.

“You were supposed to have been told. I’m guessing that means they didn’t tell you about what your placement entailed either, did they?”

Adette drew the folded paper out of her skirt pocket, unfolded it, and set it across from Karl.

“Sorry, you can read right?” Karl shot her a doggy look of disapproval before reading over the short letter.

“I’m seriously hoping that you can fill in the giant holes left by that letter.” Karl’s tongue stuck out. He panted twice before shutting his snout again. “This is without a doubt one of the most useless letters I’ve ever read. If it weren’t for the begrudging post script, you’d be entirely up a creek.”

“That’s exactly what I’ve been thinking since I read it. Do they normally make a big ordeal out of people receiving their placement letters?” Adette was hoping more than she could say that his answer would be yes.

“What do you mean an ordeal?”

Adette sighed and took the look of confusion to mean either they didn’t or he didn’t know.

“I’ll explain some other time. You do know more than this letter says right?”

“I’m afraid I don’t. I am only a dog after all. They told me my placement but nothing else. You’ve either really impressed someone or made them very angry with you.” Karl slowly lowered his chin onto the arm of the chair as he said this.

“Sure, now you’re only a dog.”

Karl didn’t bother replying to this.

“Hungry Karl?”

Karl’s head flew up. His ears perked up and his small stump of a tail began waggling furiously.

“I figured. Come on. I’ll bet I’ve got something for you.” Adette scooped the pitcher and dirty glass off of the table. Together they stomped and clacked their way back into the small cottage. Adette’s shoulders slumped when she realized she still had a mountain of produce to do something with.

“I’m not very picky, but if you have any, I’d really like some bacon.”

“Of course you want bacon. Should I also start smoking some butcher bones for you too?”

“Well, if you’re offering I wouldn’t say no.” Karl blinked. He apparently took the thought very seriously. Adette’s shoulders slumped. Her mouth opened then shut. She was thinking furiously, but the retort she was looking for couldn’t be found.

“Who sent you here anyway? I’ve never heard about anyone receiving familiars.”

“Well, someone sent the call to the home of the familiars. I was chosen, so here I am.”

“Do you have any idea who sent you?”

“That’s not how it works. One of the elders calls and we’re sent. We’re told from pups not to question.”

“Huh…” Adette mused as she began working her way through the pile on the counter.

Karl settled down onto the floor. Even though Adette hadn’t given him a real answer about the food, he still looked expectant. The pile, which looked much bigger than it was, soon was all put away. The last bag of onions got stowed securely in a cupboard. Adette allowed the heavy wood to fall shut and turned to consider Karl where he still lay on the kitchen floor.

“Alright, I suppose I could fry up some bacon. I wouldn’t mind a BLT myself, but we will need to get you some proper dog food afterwards,” Adette sighed. She reached up and lifted a skillet from its hook above the stove. It clanked down onto the stove top.

Karl’s long pink tongue swirled up and around his snout. His brown eyes seemed to grow brighter with the anticipation of bacon. Adette turned to look at him and nearly burst out laughing.

“I guess I know what I need to get if I ever need a special favor from you Karl.” Air whooshed between Karl’s dog lips in a good imitation of a human huff but he didn’t deny anything. Adette smirked and threw the refrigerator door open. Her hand got half way to the bacon before she was interrupted by a truly pathetic sigh of disappointment.

“Don’t bother.” In Karl’s voice, Adette heard disappointment. She got halfway through asking him why but was interrupted by a scream.

My last major dose of Americana

wpid-20140704_101301.jpg

Friday morning I was sitting on a street just outside of Grand Rapids. It’s a regular street just like thousands of other streets spread throughout the country. Normally you’d make your way down it without a thought. It’s nice. It’s got a lot of trees and extra lanes for extra traffic.

But, for one day, it gets to be a special place where special things happen. Children get to follow a very slowly moving police motorcycle down a major road on bicycles. There is a stream of them that starts off what will eventually be a parade. They start out fast, but they don’t stay that way. At the very beginning one of the more eager kids wipes out. His bike slides sideways into the grass and he flops over unceremoniously. Somewhere there is a concerned parent, but I can’t see them. They pretty quickly get sucked into the crowd.

Eventually the parade of tiny multicolored bikes gets swallowed into a slow stream of toddlers whose only speed is teetering and snail like. It’s ok. They’re having a great time. Eventually even they make it to the top of a small paved hill.

The sound of the first of many sirens announces the start of the parade. Yeah, I know parades whoopie. It was nice all the same. It reminded me in some ways that no matter what part of the country you’re in we are essentially at least a little bit the same.

wpid-20140704_103556.jpg

One thing that all parades share is sirens. Give someone a large vehicle and a siren, and they will find every imaginable sound it can make. This held true through four separate caravans of fire vehicles. My favorite was the first mainly because of the sirens. The last was pretty good too. Every so often they’d blare horns. Shave and a hair cut….two bits! Every one knows that most favorite of rhythms. Hearing it blared across a four lane highway courtesy of no more than four separate fire engines makes it that much better.

Another thing every parade, well every Fourth of July parade anyway, has in common is tractors. That’s right in the middle of a well to do part of Grand Rapids there are a variety of tractors to be found. Never mind that probably only a few people at the parade, myself included, even know how to drive one, they must be there. They are, after all, a big part of that American image. For that day at least, everyone gets to imagine they are one of those old timey farming types coming home to apple pie and milk. My favorite was a steam powered tractor probably well over one hundred years old.

wpid-20140704_103313.jpg

I’m not really sure what the purpose of this particular car was. I think it had some affiliation with a theater company. All I can say is that I’m all for someone with the gumption to cover an entire car in different fabrics.

wpid-20140704_105435.jpg

What followed can only be described as a hodge podge of cars, tractors, and local businesses on trucks. Being that it is Michigan, we do really love our cars. I took a lot of pictures, but I’m only going to include a few mostly because I’m not the best photogapher. You don’t need to see how many bad pictures I can take.

wpid-20140704_103731.jpg

 

wpid-20140704_104658.jpg

wpid-20140704_103030.jpg

wpid-20140704_102710.jpg

Last but not least a pristine car the exact model and color of the car Kennedy was shot in. I can’t decide if this is really patriotic or just sort of creepy.

wpid-20140704_104721.jpg

If there is one thing to remember on a day like the fourth, it’s that we are essentially all on the same team. The World Cup may be over for us, but that doesn’t need to be the only reason we can stand together. Even if we don’t share the same heritage, and lets face it most of us don’t. For one day at least, it’s just sort of nice to celebrate our shared country.

‘Murica!

wpid-20140704_102746.jpg