{ 34 } The Words! They are a Killin' Me!

I just realize a swear a lot in my writing...

Sorry if you got offended at the words in my last post. I forget that not everyone lives in my brain. No matter: words are words, right?

Sticks and stones
May break my bones,
But words can never hurt me.

Sheesh: if people are breaking your bones, via sticks, stones, or whatever, you have much bigger problems than my swearing!

ON TO THE POINT!

In the last post, I gave you an excerpt from one of two things I'm working on. Well, today I have for you a synopsis of Thing Number Two!

Imagine it as the back-flap of the paperback, inner-flap if you're old school hardbound.

It's so pulpy! Read it out loud in your best movie-over voice. There's more to read post-flap, so continue on.

Enjoy!

~~~

 He had nothing to lose...
Until he lost the child he didn't know.

Errol Bixby is on a mission to find his daughter and stop the violent career criminal that has married Bixby's ex-wife.

Following a dark path of lust, deceit, murder, and coverup, Bixby's journey will take him from Texas, to Colorado, to the very heart of America.

On a nonstop quest to find out what happened to his own daughter, and the daughters of many others, Bixby will stop at nothing to uncover the truth.

Even if he dies trying.

~~~

So, for my feedback:

~ Can you image this story?
~ Where do you think this story is going? Where do you think it has been?

~ Can you imagine the story and rewrite the flap?

{ 33 } Undertaking

So, for those of you unawares, I took two weeks off from my job to write. What am I writing, you ask?

Whatever falls out of my fingers.

I've got two major works in the process. Here is an unedited excerpt from one of them. I can almost promise it will take a different form on the printed page, but here it is for now. Enjoy.

~~~

I once was a cook at a breakfast place where I had been the only female in the kitchen. Ever. The manager would constantly get drunk and confuse me with his on-again, off-again girlfriend. 

“YOU NEVER LOVED ME!” he'd shout from his text.

“Um, yeah. But I filled all the sauce bottles.”

“SAUCE! You FUCKED Pete for fucks!”

“You realize you're not texting Abby right now, right?”

“You CUNTS are all the same!”

When I'd ask him about it the next morning, he'd deny, deny, deny. And then meticulously scrutinize the things he thought I had left undone.

“You didn't cut onions.”

“I left a note saying we were out of onions.”

“Well, you didn't fill the salt shakers.”

“The shakers were in the dish...”

“The note you left was long and stupid! Why the fuck did I ever hire a girl to work here!” And off he would stomp, content in his hungover brain that me, the dedicated employee, and Abby, the girl that done him wrong, were one and the same. Fucking cunts.

~~~