Westbow Press Prompt: "The Honeymooners"

     This Friday's writing prompt from Westbow Press is about your own "special place" (think Pearl the starfish in Finding Nemo). What's my special place? Well, here's a short story that pretty much sums it up. I'll leave it up to you to determine if it's fiction or not.

THE HONEYMOONERS

     She dipped her foot in the water and laughed when he swooped her up from behind, threatening to throw her in the lake.

     "How long until we need to check out?" she asked. The last time she wore her watch was the day before the wedding.

     "I don't know," he replied. "Another hour, I'd guess. Maybe two."

     She hoped it was two. He sat down next to her on the dock.

     "Ready to go back to the real world?" he asked. She laughed at the question. The "real world," whatever that was, wouldn't ever be the same after this week. She watched the diamonds in her wedding band glisten in the sun. She leaned her head on his chest, and he reached around and tried to tickle her side. She pushed him away.

     "I wish we could stay here forever," she whispered. He was skipping stones in the lake. She thought about the laundry, the grocery shopping, all the details she'd have to take care of when they got home. "I wonder what the next few months will be like," she said. He didn't respond.

     She wished the sun would stand still, but noticed with regret that their shadows were already shortening. As much as she might hope, she knew time wasn't about to stop just for them. The real world was waiting for them - a world of church meetings and youth group retreats and conferences and all-nighters. They already talked about starting a family soon. Would they ever be able to take all their kids on a vacation like this on a youth-pastor salary?

     There was so much at the time that she didn't know. Only one week into married life, how could she prepare herself for that first miscarriage? How could she foresee the degenerative arthritis that would steal her new husband's ability? The next time they went near a lake, he'd be unable to lower himself to sit by her side. 

     She couldn't imagine the six months of unemployment, or the depression and anxiety that would sneak up and threaten their union. She didn't know that so many of the dreams she now shared with her husband would be shattered one after another.

     All she knew was that it was almost time to go. Whether they were ready or not, the car had to be packed. The keys to the condo had to be returned.

     He stood with ease and stretched before helping her up. "Ready?" he asked. pretending one last time like he was about to throw her in the lake.

     She smiled and put her hand in his.

      "I'm ready," she replied.

    

Wednesday WIPpet: "Let's Do That Again"

     Happy Wednesday to everyone (unless it's already Thursday where you live). Today's WIPpet post features 13 sentences from chapter 3 of What, No Sushi?, my chapter book for young kids about three boys who travel back in time to explore a Japanese-American internment camp. What, No Sushi? is due to be released this spring. If you're just dying to read one of my books RIGHT NOW, please check out the Boy Named Silas ebook or paperback, which chronicle my son's traumatic birth experience and complicated medical history. Otherwise I hope you enjoy today's WIPpet!

***    

The next thing we knew, we were shooting up through some clouds.

“DAAAAAAAAAA-DEEEEEEEEEEEE!” screamed O’Malley, but his voice sounded excited, not scared.

“You boys are doing great,” Dad’s voice said from the speaker.

We soared up higher and higher. Then the rumbling noise grew quiet.  Before we could do anything, we started falling through the air. After a few seconds, we felt a big jerk and started going down more slowly.

“Dad must have put a parachute on the top,” I told my brothers.

“You better believe it, Lake,” Dad said. “I wouldn’t let anything hurt you boys, would I?” I smiled. Up until then, I wasn’t sure if Dad could hear us, or if we could just hear him. He must have put microphones into the SPM, I decided.

After gently floating for a few minutes, we landed with a soft thud.

“Is everyone all right?” I finally asked, looking around. I was especially worried that O’Malley might have gotten frightened from our fall.

O’Malley just laughed and grinned. “Let’s do that again,” he said.

***

Tweetables: 

Writers, do you have a work in progress? Show it off! (click to tweet)

Do you WIPpet? You should! Show us an excerpt from your Work In Progress that has something to do with today's date (like 13 sentences from chapter 3 on 3/13). Then come and link up here or at My Random Muse. Happy WIPpeting!  

Saving Daylight

This post appears in the Christian Home Magazine. Check it out!

     I have a love-hate relationship with Daylight Savings. If you hooked me up to a lie detector, however, I'd have to admit that it's mostly hate.

     I used to love gaining a whole extra hour in the fall when Daylight Savings time ends. I basically had an entire hour to spend however I wanted: staying up late watching a movie with hubby, soaking in the tub with a book, or sleeping for a whole extra hour in my cozy bed.

     Then I had kids, and - like everything else in life - that all changed.

     When my baby woke up at 5:00 the Sunday after Daylight Savings ended, I couldn't blame him. I couldn't tell him, "You forgot to reset your clock. Go back to sleep." In his mind, 5:00 am was a perfect time to open his eyes, sit up in his Pack 'N Play, and scream hysterically until Mama picked him up and started off the day right, with a yummy homemade breakfast of breastmilk, literally made from scratch.

     So, in a last desperate attempt to find peace with having an hour of my life legislated away via Congressional mandate, I set my sights towards spring. If my kids wake up too early when Daylight Savings time ends, then they'd obviously sleep in when Daylight Savings time begins.

     I was wrong (something else I've gotten quite used to now that I'm a mom). Because even though my kids usually wake up a little bit later than they normally would if you're going by the clock in the spring, it's no earlier according to my biological metronome.

     C'est la vie, I suppose. But I still wonder at the audacity of a government that literally borrows an hour of my life with a promise to pay it back half a year later.

     As a matter of fact, there's a lot about time that I don't get. For example, while we're enjoying an early-spring blizzard on this Sunday afternoon, a friend in New Zealand is planting tubers in the hot New Zealand sun sometime Monday. And don't even get me started on all the questions I have about God and the great metaphysical wristwatch of the universe. Like, for example, if God exists outside of time, does it help if I pray for people in the past? If God already knows what I'm going to pray even before I pray it, does that mean my prayers might work retroactively? (Let me go on like this for a few more minutes and I'll wind up with a headache and still be no closer to the truth.)

     Anyway, I hope many of you out there are enjoying whatever benefits Daylight Savings brings to those of us commoners in the US. As for me, I'm off for my Sunday nap.

Tweetables:

Daylight Savings: Good for farmers, bad for moms. 

I have a love-hate realtionship with DaylightSavings. Mostly hate.

If you think Daylight Savings is mildly mind-boggling, have you ever thought about time travel? Stay tuned for information about "What, No Sushi," my soon-to-be-released kids chapter book about three boys who go back to relive some family history!

Short Story: A Surprise for Garret

      I'm killing two birds with one stone this week, which is probably a breach in some law of blogging etiquette stored up somewhere in cyberspace, but what can I do? I've decided to participate in the Friday writing prompt sponsored by Westbow Press. After all, they've named my novel a finalist in their writing contest. The least I can do is join their Friday fun, right?

    But I've also really enjoyed participating in Hidden Valley Simplicity's word of the week blog hop, and I'm already about to miss the linkup deadline.

    So here's the skinny. Westbow Press wants me to write a story about a celebration. Melissa wants me to throw the word adumbrate in my post ... so here it is! My vocabulary-enriched short story about a celebration that just might go terribly wrong.

Word of the Week: adumbrate: 
                              1. to foreshadow vaguely
                              2. to suggest, disclose, or outline partially
                              3. overshadow; obscure

    It was the first time that Sadie, the poster puppy of canine ADD, didn't come bounding out to greet Garret when he came home from work. Garret was busy laughing into his hands-free headset to actually miss the beagle's enthusiastic drool. Nor did he pause to wonder if Sadie's absence might adumbrate what was waiting for him on the eve of his birthday.

     "No, Chelsea's not home." Garret walked with something of a swagger as he spoke, tossing his shoes in the entryway. "I can talk a little longer." Sadie whined from the office.

     "Yeah, that's the dog," he continued. "Stupid mutt. Got herself stuck." He chuckled and threw his overcoat over the couch. "I'll go let her out before she wets the carpet or something." Garret smiled and strode down the hallway. He stopped as he went by the laundry room.

     "Oh, I forgot to tell you at lunch today." He leaned against the laundry room door frame and loosened his tie. "I told Chelsea I was out of work shirts this morning. We got into this big fight, because she told me she washed everything in the hamper yesterday and I told her if that was the case I'd have something clean to wear to work. So she's scurrying to do a quick load of laundry, and I realize I actually left my shirt in your car last weekend after our little outing." Garret's laugh echoed in the otherwise quiet hallway. From behind the office door, Sadie stopped whimpering.

     "Anyway," Garret went on, "I better go soon. I have no idea when Chelsea will be home." His lip curled up halfway as he listened to the remark on the other end of the conversation. "I wish so too," he replied, scratching his cheek. "But tomorrow's my birthday. I won't have any free evenings until the weekend." A charmingly sympathetic pout appeared on Garret's face that no one was around to witness. "We'll still have lunch though, right?"

     Sadie yelped from behind the office door. "Ok," Garret announced, cell phone in hand, "I gotta go. This stupid dog is about to - "

     The door opened. The talking stopped. The phone dropped to the floor. In Garret's home office stood his wife, his brother and sister-in-law, the next door neighbors, and two of his co-workers. Everyone was standing underneath a banner with the word SURPRISE printed in oversize letters made of confetti.

     Garret removed his headset in one swift motion as his beagle ran up to greet him.

Wednesday WIPpet: "Trip to the Past"

     Today was an exciting day for me as a writer. I just got my final (keep your fingers crossed) round of edits for my soon-to-be-published kids' book, "What, No Sushi?"

     This chapter book for elementary-aged students is the first book in My Solar-Powered History series, which features three adventurous boys who experience their family history with a little help from their inventor father. I've been working with a great editor from Do Life Right, Inc., and we're hoping for an early-spring release (again with the fingers crossed).

     This week's WIPpet includes six paragraphs from chapter 3 of "What, No Sushi."

***     

“Trip to the past?” Benson repeated. “What does he mean?”

Benson stared at the letter thoughtfully, then ran over to Kimuko. “Um, what year is it?” he asked.

“What?” Kimuko looked confused. Benson repeated his question. Kimuko looked over at me with a puzzled look in her eyes. I just shrugged.

“Why, it’s 1942, of course,” the girl answered.

Benson ran back to us. By then I had figured out what was going on. “Dad’s solar-powered invention isn’t a flying machine at all,” I declared.

“It’s a time machine!” we all exclaimed.

***

Do you WIPpet? You should! Include part of your WIP (Work In Progress) that has something to do with today's date (like six paragraphs from chapter three on 3/6). Then come back and link here on at My Random Muse. 

Tweetables:
A short excerpt from "What, No Sushi?" for kids.  
Do you WIPpet? You should!
Check out a new time travel history series for kids. 

R-Rated Scripture

What's up with this photo?

This post appears in the 103rd edition of the Christian Home Magazine. Check it out!

     A few months ago I had this great idea to start reading Genesis to my boys chapter by chapter for our morning devotions. I figured that my boys were ready to move beyond the Bible storybooks we have and delve into God's pure, unadulterated Word.

    And after making my grand announcement and making our way victoriously through the creation account, I remembered what else is in Genesis. Not much pure or unadulterated there, at least as far as the characters are concerned. Like valiant explorers, my boys and I stumbled our way through the Bible's depiction of Noah's drunken nakedness, Abraham's polygamist affair with Hagar, Sarah's near-rape by the Egyptian king. We got to Sodom and Gomorrah and even choked our way through that, only to find that the very next day I was supposed to read my seven, five, and three year-olds the story when Lot's daughter's got him drunk so he could father their children. After just describing (in hopefully dumbed-down terms) why the men of Sodom were so wicked God chose to destroy them, I just didn't have the stomach to read about Lot's daughters as well.

     When it comes right down to it, not many Bible stories would pass conservative family screening practices. You have Ruth laying down at the feet of an inebriated Boaz with a marriage proposal in the middle of the night. In Numbers 25, you have an Israelite and his Midianite mistress killed when a spear pierces completely through both of their bodies. (Care to guess what position they were in when this couple was shish kebobed?) Not to mention all the strange, bizarre, and lewd behavior going on in the early chapters of the Holy Book. I mean, have you read all those laws in Leviticus? They were apparently put there for some reasons that I don't even want to know.

     Then there's the pure violence, which would automatically turn the Bible into an R movie even without all the kinky bedroom behavior. You've got entrails spilling out onto the floor on more than one occasion. You've got former first-lady Jezebel thrown out a window with dogs licking up her blood. I'm not even going to mention what the people resorted to when under intense siege and on the brink of starvation.

     There's also the language to deal with. What do you think Paul is talking about in Galatians 5:12 when he tells believers who are a little too zealous for circumcision to "cut themselves off"? Samson accuses the groomsmen at his own wedding of "plowing with his heifer." (Care to guess what he's referring to there?) Peter was a bona fide potty-mouth. Even God pushes the envelope by telling Job to "gird up his loins like a man." Modern translation? Put on your undies and man up!

     As if the sex, violence, and language weren't enough, the Bible also has plenty of cases of the terrifying, bizarre, and sheer insane. There's a crazy woman cutting off her son's foreskin to appease the angel of the Lord who came after Moses with a vendetta. There's a demon-possessed man breaking his chains, cutting himself to shreds, and living amongst the caves. (Have you ever dared wonder what he ate?) I defy you to find any horror movie with creepier premises than what you'll find in the Bible's 66 sacred books. Just Revelation itself has more terror than the contents of Steven King's own nightmares. What makes these prophecies even more terrifying is that you know they're going to come true.

     I guess what I love about Scripture is that it doesn't sugar-coat its accounts to make its stories more acceptable or family-friendly. I admit that's made for some awkward discussions around the breakfast table. But I figure if God wrote it, I'd better be prepared to read it to my kids.

     Just don't blame me for skipping over the part about Lot and his daughters.

What about you? Do you "censor" Bible stories for your kids? Or can you think of anything else I should have included in my list of R-rated Bible stories?

Westbow Press Prompt: Neighbors

     If you've followed my Wednesday WIPpets, you'll have noticed that my novel, "The Beloved Daughter," was recently named a finalist in the Women of Faith writing competition. Since this contest is sponsored by Westbow Press, I decided to check out their website and stumbled across their blog. Turns out that Friday is writing prompt day, and today's prompt is all about neighbors.

     We live in a small circle of houses and share back fences with our neighbors on all three sides. The woman who lives directly behind us is on her back porch all the time. Why? Because she's a smoker.

     Ms. Fence and I probably wouldn't know each other at all if it weren't for her regular habit of enjoying a cigarette on the back porch several times a day, and for my sons' regular habit of pulling down and breaking our curtain rod. Thanks to our usually-curtainless existence, Ms. Fence has seen me through my living room window in my pajamas. She's seen me in my bath towel. She's seen me practicing "Thriller" before chaperoning the high school homeschool dance with my husband.

     Ms. Fence and I smile when we see each other, but we don't know one another at all. The only information we have about each other is based on what we observe through my room. She sees a mom who apparently has more important things to do than get dressed first thing in the morning - a Michael Jackson wanna-be who occasionally busts a move in the middle of her otherwise domestic duties.

     I see a woman who smokes quite a lot, whose dogs like to bark at my boys in the summer when everyone is playing outside. But that's all. I don't know where Ms. Fence works, what hobbies she enjoys, where she grew up. I don't even know her real name.

     A few months ago, I went several months without seeing Ms. Fence and wondered with disappointment if she quit smoking. Of course, it would be better for her health to give up her habit, but what about our mid-morning waves to each other when I wander in front of the window wearing my pj's and sporting a towel on my wet head? I found myself missing Ms. Fence's smile and was actually glad when I saw her on her porch again last month, cigarette in hand.

     Maybe Ms. Fence was out of town for those few months. Maybe she tried to give up smoking and failed. Whatever the reason, I was glad to see those smiles again from across the back fence.

     I hope for her own health that Ms. Fence actually decides to quit smoking for good one day. But until then, I'm going to enjoy our silent greetings each morning. I'm also going to make it a point to learn her real name. That way if I do stop seeing her across the fence, I won't feel so awkward walking up to her front door one day and saying hi.