How do you read? An essay on voice translation (and book reviews) at The Life of a Working Writer Mommy
Hey everyone! I hope you’re all doing well. I’ve been quite busy lately and so haven’t been writing #fridayflash stories, but I have been reading – too much! I hope you’ll stop in at The Life of a Working Writer Mommy to discuss the translation of voice when we’re reading, as well as read a few book reviews. Come on over!
I hope to be back in the swing of things and post a #fridayflash soon. I only need to get my nose out of the books and put pen to paper! 
The Trip: Excerpt from a short story – #fridayflash #amwriting
Thank you for stopping in to read my #fridayflash! The Trip is an excerpt from a short story I’m working on. I appreciate all constructive critique.
Be sure to visit Mad Utopia or the Friday Flash Community for more great flash fiction by outstanding authors!
The Trip is rated PG according to my standards.
The Trip, by Deanna Schrayer
Sarasota Mist Dugan meandered through the house and turned on every light, including the one above the stove, the one above the kitchen sink, the one above the bathroom mirror, and both the front and back porch, then rolled her suitcase and supplies bag to her Camry, loaded them into the trunk, slid behind the wheel, and cranked the engine. When she turned her head to back out of the driveway she saw the envelope sticking up out of her purse. Sighing, she put the car in park, took the letter inside, and tossed it on his recliner. Before heading back out she noticed the side table lamp was off and so she turned it on. She caught a glimpse of their wedding protrait beside the lamp. Sarasota trembled, ran back out to her car and drove away, fast.
This was not a planned trip, not exactly, but she’d felt the need for quite some time. Often she pondered on the details, easily seeing herself curled up on a wide sofa by a roaring fire in a cabin, or just as easily sprawled out on a silky blanket on the beach, the hot sun beating against her back as if to burn straight through and warm her soul. But that was as far as she’d get – pondering – before he walked into the room and smiled sweetly at her, scattering the dream like so many withering rose petals under an August sun. Until his cat, Juniper, jumped onto the window sill and knocked the blue vase her mother had given them on their first anniversary to the hard-wood floor, shattering it to bits. That had been the straw that sent her rushing to their bedroom where she pulled the suitcase from her closet and filled it with shorts, tee shirts, sweaters and jeans, lining the clothing with several smocks and her favorite paintbrush.
She called the bakery where she decorated elaborate wedding cakes and left a message for the manager, saying she’d be taking a leave of absence to help care for her dying uncle. Sara felt a smidgen of guilt for lying but she certainly couldn’t jeopordize her job by telling the truth. She didn’t plan to return, but Sara had never been one to burn bridges.
Now it was ten o’clock of a cold Wednesday morning and so Sara drove south, deeper and deeper into the blinding sunshine. She dazed through who knows how many miles before she realized there was no music. She turned the radio on and scanned through the talk shows until she reached E Street Radio where her all-time favorite song was just beginning….
The screen door slams
Mary’s dress waves
Like a vision she dances across the porch as the radio plays
She turned up the volume to drown out her voice. Sarasota stopped thinking. And she drove.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
A video of Bruce Springsteen’s Thunder Road was supposed to be here but for some reason WP won’t allow me to add a video at the moment, so….click here to listen to Sarasota’s (and my) favorite song.
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What’s the clue: Stop Now! or Keep on Going! ? #fridayflash #amwriting
When I read the forecast Thursday night it told me there would be rain Friday morning and then it would clear up and be partly sunny for the afternoon, (albeit a lot chillier than the 70 degrees we just experienced the day before). Knowing this, I decided to get my work out of the way in the morning so I could sit outside and write in the afternoon. As I worked it was not raining, in fact the weather was what it was supposed to be in the afternoon – clear and mostly sunny, cool and just a bit windy. I thought “Woo-hoo! It’s gonna be nice like this all day!” and so I rushed to get my work finished and then went to a local park to write.
At the park I was happy to find my favorite picnic table available. I gathered my blanket, seat cushion and book bag and crossed the bridge over the fast-rushing creek to the picnic table. But once I got settled I couldn’t decide what I wanted to work on – whether to edit a short story, finish a different one or start a new one altogether. So I sat and thought a while, the slight breeze slinging my long hair in my face, (I finally got irritated enough to pull it back into a ponytail).
Eventually I decided to work on a new story and I flipped through my ideas notebook. Soon I discovered a great idea to go with the windy weather – a woman is home alone when the electricity is knocked out by a thunderstorm that rages around the house.
The sky was still clear blue and mostly sunny so I closed my eyes and imagined being the woman in the dark. After a few minutes I felt the rumble of thunder shaking the home’s windows, I saw the bright flashes of lightning burn the ground as the woman watched through her kitchen window, I felt her tremble.
Knowing this was the perfect time to transcribe I opened my eyes and set about scribbling all this down in my notebook. The wind had picked up considerably and after filling four pages I glanced up and saw that the sky had become dark with gray clouds, there was no blue in sight now. But it wasn’t raining so I kept on writing.
As I showed the woman’s fear when she sees a shadow in a dark corner of her kitchen I heard a raucous Crack! My immediate thought was “Wow, I’m really into this story,” which, as all writers know, is a terrific feeling. But then I glanced up from my notebook, saw the strong winds whipping the trees all around me and realized this storm was not in my imagination – it was real, and it was nearly right on top of me.
Aggravated that I had to stop writing when I had just gotten so into it, I stood up and began to gather my things. Then I heard it again – that loud Crack! I looked up just in time to see the entire top of an old oak tree come falling out of the sky.
And it was headed straight for me.
I jumped sideways, dropping my book bag at the same moment the tree hit the picnic table. Had I not realized when I did that the storm was indeed real and not in my imagination, I wouldn’t be writing this today. Yes, this is a true story, not a Friday Flash.
What were my first thoughts when I realized my life had just been spared? Not: “Thank God I’m alive!”, but: “Does this mean I should stop writing this story or does it mean it’s a great one and I desperately need to finish it?” But I didn’t have time to ponder the answer because here came the gully-washing rains. I headed for my car and sat for a while, unable to help myself from taking up my pen and finishing the thought I had been in the middle of when I was nearly killed.
What do you think? Was the falling tree an ominous sign that I should no longer write, or was it a motivational sign from God to Keep on Writing!?
Have you had such an experience before? I’d love to hear about it!
P.S. This whole episode reminded me of the story I wrote last year, She Saw It Coming, which readers chose as one of my best #fridayflash works. The picture I used for this post is even the same one I used for that story.
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Hit the Trail – #fridayflash #amwriting
Thank you for stopping in to read my #fridayflash….. if that’s what we can call it; some may consider it more poem-like. I wrote Hit the Trail last fall after we hiked in the Great Smoky Mountains, (okay, the truth is I scribbled it as we left the mountains for home and the hubby was hitting every pothole in sight), then I tucked it away and forgot about it. I just have rediscovered it and wonder if it’s worth a diddle, or if I should’ve kept it hidden. I appreciate you taking a moment to offer me your honest opinion.
Be sure to visit Mad Utopia or the Friday Flash Community for more great flash fiction by outstanding authors!
Hit the Trail is rated G according to my standards.
- Great Smoky Mountains – Image by Wikipedia
Hit the Trail, by Deanna Schrayer
Sky overcast, hazy, hurts your eyes to look at – strenuous! Humid day, clothing already wet when sweat drips, sliding down spine, cheeks – itchitchitch, dripping from forehead, pools up inside sunglasses, hips and legs screaming in pain as if climbing mountain is first action they’ve ever taken. Finally reach the last steep stretch and head tingles – halo of hornets circling in search of place to build home. Cicadas buzz all around in orchestra of heated song while faint hum of traffic drones in distance. Tinges of autumn appear in ground cover, mustard-colored, deepest recesses of oaks and maples dry as in months-long draught. Bright yellow salamanders – neon blue tails – skitter across roots sticking up out of ground almost crushed by heavy feet, they’re playing chicken. The climb! Rocks size of Colorado boulders jut up out of trail, on either side of trail intent on tripping you up or squeezing you in cold dark embrace.
*****
Bloggerland has lost a great man. Click here to read about the Late Great Professor B. Worm on my nonfiction site, The Life of a Working Writer Mommy.
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