I tried to do a Thought for Sunday.

Tried to write a thought for today. Was interrupted too much to do so.  Every time I began, and I mean every single time I actually tried to type a thought, I was interrupted.

So that’s what you call an old fashioned blog entry. I hope you have a great day and have a better chance at writing then I have had.

If you get bored and haven’t checked out some of my work from this past week:

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Try to take my joy. This was the first take I had on my Haiku challenge this week.

The L.A.W. in London: Yeah, Baby. This was a continuation of a story Hugh of Hugh’s Views and News and I have been doing for months now.

My Lips, Your Curves. A Haiku. Another Haiku I wrote for my challenge. It’s, um, a little different.

Disabled, Disgruntled and Disenchanted-The WordPress Stats Page I had been suffering through the changes to the Stats page but had been kind of making do with being able to click to the link near the top of the new page to go to the old page. Then this week happened.

Tips to Increase Followers and Views. Some ideas that I have been thinking of that are a bit outside the normal way of seeing things. But then that’s kind of how I am.

The continuation of disenchantment. Well, I think you might get where this is going by the title. Yeah, another change that is just making it more and more difficult for me to fight my way to get past the 24/7 migraines and everything else. Just imagine having a migraine every second of your life and showing up and your blog world is more frustrating when it has no reason to be.

 

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The L.A.W. in London: Yeah, Baby.

In the last episode of The L.A.W. & Ronovan  who met Ms. Marzapan and Hugh in a skytower or something like that, um, there was like this zombie dance troop and the L.A.W. and Ronovan, I mean me, I mean I discovered that Cyril Bussiere had created all these mind altering things to get rid of like all the Hugh’s of the world. I secretly think it’s because he is jealous of Hugh’s, well I won’t tell that now. Just wait. I just hope we catch him before that housekeeper that he left behind without a job does. Oh, and the Doctor showed up to give us a ride to London.

Credit: Freefoto.com



 

“Well that certainly was a bumpy landing,” the Doctor said.

“Indeed,” Elena said. She had taken on a British accent for some reason. Actually all of the L.A.W. had. I feared that if music started to play they would tell me what they want what they really, really want. But the door opened just in time.

We apparently had come to rest in some type of store.

“Ow!” Cat said.

I looked and she had an Oreo stuck to her head. “What the—,”

“Uh uh, Kate, none of that language,” Jenna said. “Hey, look!”

We all turned to follow her very excited finger. “Ruby slippers!” Kate said. She dove for them but they disappeared as her hands grasped nothing but empty air. Stinky empty air.

“What is that awful smell?” Amira asked.

“Smells like Troll feet,” I said.

“That’s because that is precisely what it was. Internet Troll feet,” the Doctor said.

“Oh, Doctor, I am so glad you came,” a woman said. We all turned.

“No way!” Jenna said.

“Yes way!” Amanda said.

“No, really no whey,” Jenna said looking at the case behind Amanda. “I love yogurt without whey in it. It’s a great substitute for sour cream and things like that. Lot less fat and calories. Yum!”

I looked at the Doctor. He looked at me. He went into the blue box thing. And then, gone. I couldn’t blame him.

“You know I so don’t blam—,”

I didn’t get the words out of my mouth before I found myself being tackled to the ground by several tough women. One that looked like a train. And one with a—Rudolph nose?

Screeching tires and the smell of burning rubber assaulted our senses. “Yeah, baby,” we heard. “I say, I didn’t see any rockin’ so I came a knockin’.”

We all stared at the man with the thick glasses, mop top hair and extremely tight pants. “It can’t be,” I said.

“Oh but it can, baby. Well, you’re not a baby, that’s just one of my catch phrases. Unless, wait you’re not a man!” Suddenly the insane1960s reject was trying to pull off my shirt and my hair.

“Austin Powers, get off of him,” Ms. Maple said.

Powers looked up and squinted at Ms. Maple. “Honey?” He asked. “Honey Maple, is that you?”

“Austin, I told you never to call me that in front of people,” Ms. Maple said. I had only seen her on Skype but I didn’t think the red flushed complexion was her natural look.

Powers got up and was at her side in a flash. “Groovy, baby. And I do mean baby,” he said. “At least I didn’t tell them why I call you Honey.”

Ms. Maple giggled like a school girl.

I looked at the others and saw various reactions from the rolling of eyes to dry heaving. There was even a reindeer being used as a gag to not laugh. I just hope it had not been tried on for a fitting.

“Should we ask him why he is here?” I asked.

“I say no,” Amira said.

“Agreed,” everyone else said in unison.

“Jenna,” Amanda said. “What did you find out in El Waco?”

For some reason none of us corrected her. It was like we had entered a Twilight Zone and decided we would just go with the flow. “Cyril Bussiere is behind it all, or at least he’s a top gun. Oh, I sooo loved that movie. And the songs. Oh, Take My Breath Away was sooo good. And then You’ve Lost That Lovin’ Feeling. I just melt every time Ronovan si—,”

“Ahem,” I said.

“Oopsie,” Jenna said. Her smile flashed.

I shook my head. “You really need to explain to them someday that you have a friend named Ronovan or this could all get really weird.”

“For sure, right?” she said.

Face palm.

“Okay, as she was saying. French Texan blogger Cyril Bussiere, also author of The World Might available on Amazon at a reasonable price and can be followed on Twitter at @CyrilBussiere, came up with a special formula that looks and tastes just like—,”

“Yes?” Kate asked.

“You were there, Kate, you know,” Elena said. “You told us what it was.”

“Oh, right. Healthy Oreo cream,” Kate said.

“Not so healthy,” I said.

“Mind altering.”

Amira was right. “And, we found blueprints,” I said.

“For what, a death ray?” Amanda asked.

“No.”

“A sting ray?” Eloise asked.

“No.”

“A blu ray?” Cat asked.

“Cat!” the rest of the L.A.W said.

“I got caught up, alright?”

“Mind controlling helmets that look like bowl cut hairstyles,” I said.

Amanda’s eyes got bigger than ever. I swear I saw photos of Thailand. “The royal family.”

“Exactly,” I said. “And possibly Rhianna and Miley Cyrus. Just saying.”

“Oh dear,” Amanda said.

“We can only stop all of this one way,” I said.

“How?” Seven female voices asked in harmony.

I just so hoped they didn’t discover they all loved ABBA. Mama Mia. “We go back in time.”

“What? How?” Eloise asked.

Amanda smiled, tilted her head to the right and gave her trademark look. “I know,” she said and pointed.

We all turned to follow her obviously mommy finger. The psychedelic painted Mini Cooper.

“No way,” said Jenna.

“Oh yeah, baby,” Amanda said.

“All aboard,” Eloise said.

I just had time to turn before Amanda ripped the onesie off.

“Oh dear,” Eloise said. “Thank goodness for this Batman onesie I had on underneath.”

I hung my head and just hoped that this would all be over soon. I had no idea crossing the ocean meant crossing into insanity. And here I always thought British women were hot. Maybe it was Australian women I was thinking of. Where was Olivia Newton John from again?

“Everyone in,” Elena said. “Ronovan, you first, backseat. Pile on the Ronovan time.” Okay maybe this wasn’t so bad after all. Wait, where was Hugh?


 

 

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A Cry For Help Ignored.

Christian Flash Weekly Event #40 From Christian Weekly.

A Flash Fiction Challenge.

Prompt and Word Limits for Event #40
Length: 1-150 words
Prompt: John 11:35 (KJV)
Jesus wept.

 

“I’m so confused,” Charlie said.

“Sup, man?” I asked.

“Dude, I just don’t know anymore. Parents have been dogging me about everything. I don’t think I can take it much longer.” His hands kept clenching and unclenching.

“Not a problem, man. You know all parents are like that. They just trying to get to you. Maybe trying to help too, in their own weird way.” I laughed a little, hoping to lighten the mood.

“It ain’t funny. You know I ain’t going to put up with it much longer. I can’t take it. I gotta do something.”

I knew he wasn’t joking. “Dude, just chill til tomorrow. I gotta go now, but text me later, okay?”

“Sure, man. Yeah.”

In the car Mom could tell I was upset. “What’s wrong Jeremy?”

“Nothing, Mom.”

“We have to be at church early before Youth Group tonight, so we’re going to just run through somewhere for fast food, okay?”

“Sure, Mom.”

Jesus wept.

 

As a former youth pastor I tried so hard to show my kids how to reach out to others, how to share their faith, how to talk to people, how to simply invite someone to the Youth Group on Wednesdays to have some fun and ease into church. It was a frustrating time. We even went out and visited people in the hopes of making a connection. But it was difficult when the Youth didn’t know where their friends lived. But we still tried. Tuesdays we would load up the van and go visiting and Wednesdays we would gather for our studies and activities.

It wasn’t just about more kids in church that was my biggest concern. It was about helping them. I knew there were dozens, hundreds of kids out there needing help. But with a church body that wasn’t as a whole as concerned about young people, the lack of empathy was absorbed by the youth themselves. Yes, there are many who care but too many that don’t.

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A beauty so high.

Stoneworth didn’t give a fig about life. As far as he was concerned it could end in a breath and that would be just fine with him. He had lived long enough and life was a bunch of bull. Every step he took he stepped in a big pile of a reminder of it.

“Mr. Stoneworth, may I have your autograph, please,” said the young girl.

Stoneworth looked at the book and pen offered. Gritting his teeth he put on his best fake grin and signed one of his somehow formulaic but popular mysteries. If he thought it all was crap then why did he care if the girl was happy or not? Perhaps he didn’t want it to be all bad, maybe he wanted a sign of something good. Or maybe he wanted to pay bills until the crap buried him.

He left the tip on the table and then the cafe behind. His burger was not even half eaten. It was not a normal bull day.

It was worse. It was like rodeo week and he was the head scooper.

He should have stayed home and eaten the frozen Chinese dinner. It would match the frozen ears he had from the early winter wind. His work was now going to suck the rest of the day and night and he was going to be hungry. Any flow of plot he had was gone. And he had a deadline. Ten days or death would be knocking at his door. Either death or his agent. They looked about the same.

His apartment smelled like burnt hot chocolate, not coffee. He had tried the stuff but couldn’t drink it until it had enough milk, sugar and chocolate syrup in it to taste like hot chocolate. Why waste the time and the money? Just cut out the middle men.

He looked at the wall thermostat and the screwed on lock box. Freaking landlord. 65 degrees. He left his coat on and turned the small electric heater on. He let it oscillate just to have some noise in the place.

Even though he knew his purpose of the day was ruined he sat down at the laptop anyway. The 1 appeared at the top of one tab of the many opened in his browser for research on ancient Central American civilizations. His thoughts improved with hope.

He had mail. The list of songs were long and not quite his usual fare but he listened. She had sent them. He didn’t listen to much music. It caused headaches. But from her, the headaches didn’t happen. They inspired him.

My beauty has given a gift to me

One I don’t often have time to take

It could not be more sweet and dear

Unless the music her own fingers did make

How is one so beautiful

How is she in my life

If by chance life did change

“Stoneworth!”

He looked up at the ghastly form approaching. He stared through it. Why would it not leave him be? The ghost of a past that was no longer his. All he wanted was the now, the reality of what is.

He did not need what was the never was. He closed his eyes and pressed his hands together until his fingers turned white. The music started again in his ears.

“Worthless! Invalid!”

Stoneworth moved his hands to his ears and pressed hard. Forcing the music in. Driving the hate away.

The pain seared through his brain and down his spine. Cackling laughter reached his now unprotected ears. He slowly sank to the floor unable to control his movements. His body arched as spasms began.

Laughter.

Music.

Laughter.

He shut his eyes tight. Focus on her eyes, those brown eyes, focus. The cackling continued. The pain continued. But suddenly he did not care. He felt warmth touch his skin. A smile crossed his face. It didn’t matter. There was a light he could see now for the first time. And music. He was climbing higher and higher. His dream was there, higher than he had ever been before. A beauty like he would never witness again.

**

“What happened?”

“I don’t know officer. I came in when he missed his deadline for a book he was writing and found him.”

“Did you turn that heater on?”

“No officer. It was already going. I moved it away from his face though. It was really close.”

“Well, it looks like a heart attack.”

“He always said that’s how he would go.”

“Well, this looks like another case he solved before he ever got a chance to write it.”

stoneworth

Ronovan

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Part 2 The L.A.W. Comes to Town: A Kiss is Just a Kiss (The disappearing Hugh saga continues.)



The continuation of The Case of the Disappearing

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H

 

Part 2: The L.A.W. Comes to Town: A Kiss is Just a Kiss

 

AbbaEdges
“About freakin’ time he woke up, freakin wuss,” said Frida. I was so not believin’ this one.

 

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“Well you did hit him pretty hard, Cat,” said Jenna. “The poor guy doesn’t really need any more knocks on the head from what our files show.”

 

 

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“Was that really necessary?” I asked, my head throbbing. And I had a strange urge to disco dance that I fought back.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

“I’ll tell you when it’s necessary or not, got it?” Cat said in what I had come to know as her friendly tone. I still peed a little.
“I’ll tell you when it’s necessary or not, got it?” Cat said in what I had come to know as her friendly tone. I still peed a little.

 

Jen_New
Salvation was nearby. “His friend is in trouble and I don’t think he was expecting anything like us . . . or this,” Jen said with a wave of her hand. “Or you hitting him in that head of his so he couldn’t see the L.A.W. mobile.”

 

BdayCoveringMouth
Once I stop watching her fingers waving and realized she was not talking about her hand, I had to admit she was right. The L.A.W. mobile was not exactly what I would have expected. It wasn’t like it wasn’t doing the job, but it wasn’t really suited for an extra person, and not a guy for sure. This craft was made for women and it was almost like it resented me being inside it. What was this thing made of anyway? I felt nauseous and the women were all smiling, even Cat was a little. Suddenly we were thrown against the back of our seats.

 

 

Hershey-kiss

 

 

 

 

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“Amira, what did you do?” Elena asked her sister from the one of the two pilot seats. I really didn’t know who was driving the thing. Would you call one sister the pilot in front of the other therefore making her the co-pilot? I didn’t think so.

 

 

 

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I felt the craft level out. “Might have been turbulence, but let’s play it safe and turn on the cloaking system,” said Amira. I saw Elena lean forward and press something. My somewhat happy mood turned a little darker for some reason.

 

 

 

 

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“What are you looking at?” Cat asked. I came to my senses and realized I was leaning on her from the sudden turbulence and was absentmindedly staring at her legs while thinking.

“I . . . um . . . sorry,” I managed as I sat back upright.

 

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“Cat, let’s trade seats,” said Kate. Kate sat down and smiled at me with her head slightly to the side. “Aren’t you lucky to have such a great neighbor to keep an eye on your son B since you had to leave suddenly with no one else home?” “Oh . . . yeah, right,” I was lucky indeed.

 

 

Jelly_Baby_Head
“I said no!” Mr. Jelly Baby said. “But I need to watch it. I have to find out what happened,” said B. “My people have forbidden even his name being mentioned in our presence.” B looked at the normally jolly Mr. Jelly Baby and had no idea why he would have a problem with watching Dr. Who.

 

 

 

 

Kate3
Kate3 “And that’s why my daughters had to shave the monkey,” Kate said finishing her story. I seriously needed some biscuits and gravy about now. Comfort food always helps in times like this. Hmm . . . apparently I’ve been in a lot of times like this. Is that a chandelier behind her or is she wearing a tiara?

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

BDayStillBored
“But what happened to the harmonica?” I asked Kate.

 

 

 Kate smiled. “Well now every time our dog Romeo sneezes . . . let’s just say he plays a little tune.”

Okay I would take a Coke with some peanuts now, anything. I wonder if Hugh put peanuts in his Coke in England. He would probably put them in tea if he did anything with them at all.

“We’re not far out now,” said Amira.

“Where?” I asked.

 

Elena2
Elena looked back and smiled. “Texas.”

 

 

She had been thinking what I had. There had been only one person either of us who could think of who would have it in for Hugh and the British, and that person had been planning for years by hiding in plain sight in Texas. What a brilliant plan. (And when did she do the wardrobe change?)

 

 

Lubbock

 

Who is the L.A.W. after in Lubbock?

Who in Lubbock would have it in for our friend Hugh in England?

Come back next time and find out who and the reveal of why there is craziness going on all around Hugh in . .  .

Part 3 of The L.A.W. Comes to Town:

To Dunk or Not to Dunk, That is a Question.

 



 

For those of  you just joining the mayhem I suggest you might wish to peruse our beginnings in the transoceanic caper.

When Ronovan Met Miss Maple (On Skype) Part 1 – A Response to Ronovan at Ronovan Writes

By Hugh Roberts of Hugh’s Views & News

And then my response:

Extra! Extra! Rose & Ghun Bust Hugh Roberts For Letter Hoarding!

Ronovan

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Q&A Jo Robinson of African Me & Satellite TV @jorobinson176

Everyone, you know Jo Robinson from her blog here on WordPress now meet her as an unbelievable author. I had no idea how strong and intelligent she really was. Talk about someone who knows what she’s doing. I was so impressed, I have asked her to do some guest blogs.

Click to read her Q&A at my new LitWorldInterviews site.

 

Jo Robinson (2)
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Ronovan's avatarLit World Interviews

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Jo Robinson

“Even though this is not the type of story I would normally read, I enjoyed the other three different themed books by this author (Fly Birdie, The Visitation and Shadow People) so much that I decided to try this latest one – and I’m glad I did, because it let me see yet another aspect of her talent as a writer.”-Chris Graham

The author has done a masterful job describing a wide range of characters. The artistic Suzette, the rugged men who work the land, the cook, maid, and tragic gardner – all have distinct personalities that leapt off the page. Enter the villainous couple who I wanted the smack from the moment I met them.”-Mark Myers

There is never a dull moment in the Hertzog household, which consists of Suzette, her loving husband Herman, their cook, Precious, the gardener, Christopher and their…

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When Ronovan Met Miss Maple (on Skype) – Part 2

Read Hugh’s most recent episode of our ongoing mystery. Then read mine tomorrow! I can’t guarantee it will be good, but I will say this . . . it’s different. muahahahahahaaha And just who is The L.A.W.?
Much Respect and Love to Y’all
Ronovan

Extra! Extra! Rose & Ghun Bust Hugh Roberts For Letter Hoarding!

For the beginning of this adventure you may want to read

When Ronovan Met Miss Maple (On Skype) Part 1 – A Response to Ronovan at Ronovan Writes

From Hugh Roberts of Hugh’s Views & News and hear his side of the story and why I called in Rose & Ghun.



 

Credit: Freefoto.com

 

Strange things happen in strange places. And when Hugh Roberts is involved they just turn down right weird. Being Southern I am a laid back kind of person that drifts along life as if tubing down the Chattahooche River through Georgia. Sure there may be some white water along the way, such as was used in the 1996 Olympics, but you get through it and end up fine.

 

Then a whirling dervish of a British man comes along with his Miss Maybohleen and the leftover mushroom pizza causes some interesting ocular fallacies. At least that’s my story and I’m stickin’ to it.

 

When my friend Hugh and his friend Miss Marzipan contacted me through Skype I was quite surprised as I had months ago lost the password to Skype and the device scares me for some reason. Having spoken with Hugh on a number of occasions electronically I had noticed there was a difference in our spellings of various words. He called in Miss Maypenny who in all honesty and with great respect I must say did not bring about a solution. I worry that maybe there was not a enough tea and perhaps too much medicinal purposes in her cup of Joe. I’m saying she was a wing short of a wingnut if you get what I’m drivin’ at.

 

I called in Rose & Ghun, two detectives a few states away. I knew Trevor Rose from my Magnolia state days. He’s Rose and she’s Monika Ghun. And as their names indicate–he takes the names of the butts she’s kickin’. They arrived in no time. And amazingly enough they didn’t dance their way up to my door.

Rose1

“Ron, I hope this is important, we are still working out how to handle the Stratford Family,” said Rose.

 

He acted like I should know about the Bradford Family. I knew eight’s’ enough so I moved on. I couldn’t help but notice Ghun. Her obvious Asian and African American background had combined to form a very pleasing to the eye masterpiece. “Umm, well Trevor, it’s like this. For some reason my conversations of late have lost the letter ‘U’ in them.”

 

Ghun stopped her foot tapping as she leaned against the wall. The thoughts that had been vaguely dancing at the corners of my mind, okay Ghunthey were slam dancing trying to break through, died down slightly at her stare. I had heard rumors about her but they were only that until proven otherwise. “We drove through the night and all of those hours for a spelling test problem?” She asked. The voice made my head slam slightly to the side. “You’re a bit old for the spelling bee aren’t you?”

 

“That’s right. Well no, I mean to say that . . . well when talking about my favorite color, you see there are two ‘U’s missing,” I said. “Then there is the case of this crazy hallucination we had about some type of ship at the end of our conversation, but that may have been the left over mushroom pizza.”

 

“Skype waves,” said Rose. “There have been theories only of visual chatting devices causing mass hallucinations all over the world. As for the ‘U’ problem…”

 

“I’m fine speaking it seems. It’ writing the words that seem to be the problem,'” I said. “I was hoping y’all would fix it.”

 

I don’t know why Rose knelt down on my living room floor, but he suddenly became all broody and I swear it became darker. It was like nighttime had come already. You would have thought he was looking at a dead body or something. Ghun was still leaning against the wall with her arms crossed and one foot back against the wall. How she looked as if she were not feeling the humidity in all that black leather including the little jacket was beyond me, but I wasn’t complaining.

 

I was a gentleman, I wasn’t dead . . . yet.

 

“Reminds me of some of the guys we ran into at Down Under Mike’s,” said Rose. I had to lean in to hear him. He looked up at Ghun who slowly began to nod.

 

“Their ‘H’s,” she said. I think that’s what she said. Her dark hair shimmered and flowed with each nod as if it were water.

 

“So what does that mean for me?” I asked.

 

“You aren’t missing any ‘U’s,” said Rose as he stood.

 

“I’m not?”

 

“No, the British have kept them from being exported so they can keep them for themselves. It’s a commonly known practice on the Grammar Black Market,” he said. “Don’t worry about it. If you really want to say col our instead of col or, then just break it up into two words like that.”

 

“Trevor, we’re out of here,” said Ghun. “We still have to find Miles before Martin and the rest get to him. If not there will be a world of suck going on.”

 

“You ever need anything else like this call Amanda Lyle. She’ll be able to help you,” said Trevor Rose and the two disappeared out my door.

 

“Whoa,” I said. Moi herself? Was she secretly some crime fighting mistress, mastress, master . . . guru?

 

“Oh, Ronovan, who were those colourful people? Your favourite exterminators?” Hugh asked from the computer screen. I had forgotten it was still on.

 

“Bless your heart, Hugh, they were detectives. I knew Trevor from back in my Magnolia days. He says y’alls trade practices are the reason for some of the unnecessary ‘U’s missing from my words.”

 

“Oh really,” said Hugh as he dunked an Oreo in a cup of something that looked like weak coffee. “Hmm, you know that does make a lot of sense. The government over here really has no clue at times, but then you would be sympathetic to that, what with your limping fowl in office.”

 

“Hugh, I really don’t understand you a times,” I said shaking my head. “Biscuits and cookies, chips and fries? And I suppose you’re going to deny that a woman wrote all of Shakespeare’s plays next and Piers Morgan the former editor of The Daily Mirror and News of the World who was highly associated with phone tapping and cellphone tapping isn’t really a cousin of yours. I think y’all does protest too dang much.”

 

Hugh2“Ronovan, I heard a rumor during this cruel summer that he’s got tact. But that may have been a careless whisper and that is the last thing on my mind. Love, truth, and honesty, I can’t help it, preacher man, I’m just a shy boy who lives the wild life and if you can’t take that then do not disturb me. I want you back as a friend, cause it t’aint what you do. Cheers then.” The Skype window went blank.

 

That was the strangest rambling I had ever heard from Hugh. I went to the window and looked up. It was indeed night time. I could see what might have been Venus, but was probably a trick of the night. My mind went to Rose & Ghun. I was glad for their help an didn’t envy whoever the Stratford Family was because there was some rough justice ahead.

 

I thought about calling Nathan Jones, an old friend of mine who might help me with the Grammar Black Market. I wondered if he still had that old van of his. It was every shade of blue and could only move in one direction, forward. The reverse didn’t work. Well enough of that.

 

I sat back down at my desk and began to work on my story about being young at heart. The main character, well he was really sayin’ somethin’ to the leading lady about ‘only your love can take me to your heart’. She looked back at him and said “Love don’t live here.” He grabbed his chest. “If you want your heart look on the floor, and if the cops ask, I’m the one that did it, I committed love in the first degree,” she said.

 

She began to walk away but fell.  She turned and glared at me. “I’m always tripping on your love. Here, I found love and now it’s set on you,” she said and put his heart back on his sleeve.

 

I looked down at the page  and thought, more, more, more. Robert De Niro’s waiting  for this after filming Long Train Runnin’ with Mr. Bean.

 

I wonder what Hugh is going to do with all those Oreos and weak coffee? And what about that lady Shakespeare author?

For the next episode in this tale of ne’er do wells read:

When Ronovan Met Miss Maple (on Skype) – Part 2

From Hugh at Hugh’s Views & News then come back and meet The L.A.W. in the first part of their involvement:

Hugh is Diasppearing! What does Ronovan do?: The LAW comes to town

 

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It landed in muh front yard.-Response to Hugh of Hugh’s Views & News

I was sittin’ out on thuh front porch ponderin’ sumthin’ fierce. I was wonderin’ how I could batter and fry a hamburger. I had done see one of them there guys on that little talkin’ picture box do it but I weren’t sure iffin’ I was up fer it. Also I was wonderin’ how Britain hadn’t become over popluated after so many centuries of existence with rainy weather.  I also wondered if they, meanin’ them British type folks were wantin’ Charles to be king for a day and then hand it over to William or what. Would 007 come out of retirement tuh help Scotland become a nation or whatever is goin’ on? I’m part Scotish an’ need tuh look into that there problem.

 

That ain’t got nuthin’ tuh do with this story. I took another swig of muh peanuts an’ Coke as sumthin’ strange came flyin’ up thuh driveway an’ landed in thuh front yard next tuh muh car . . . up on cement blocks as I was workin’ tuh git ‘er done fixed up super fancy like.

 

Then ‘it’ got out of it. I say ‘it’ because at first I didn’t know what ‘it’ was. I was afeerd it might be some alien thuh way it was drivin’ . . . steering wheel on the right. Then I figured out it was a fancy dude with this straw hat thing an’ a blue jacket thing on. The dude put his hands on his hips an’ looked around with a smile on his face, hummin’ some song that sounded kind uh familiar. Then it happened. He started walkin’.

 

I don’t know quite what that song was in his head but it must uh caused that feller tuh do that spinnin’ dancin’ thing. He spun so faced his straw hat didn’t have time to move. He just spun under it. He turned bright yellow as he did it too. And then he was at muh steps.

hugh_dance_video

“Why hello there,” he said.

 

“You ain’t from around here is yuh?” I asked.

 

“How ever could you tell? Was it the steering wheel on the right side? Is it my lovely accent?”

 

“Nah,” I replied, I weren’t much into talkin’ in person.

 

“Then please do enlighten me.”

 

“You spun clockwise durin’ that fancy dance you just did.”

 

“Oh, dance?” He looked a might bit confused. I could see thuh cylinders doin’ there work inside his head an’ then thuh light bulb went off. “You mean my walk? You are such a funny man.” He looked at my car. “Quite a nice banger you have there.”

 

I kind uh just went with it at that point. “Thanks.” I heard thuh word nice so figured it was a good thing he done said. “Well I reckon you ain’t here on purpose, so what you want?”

 

“I am lookin’ fer, I mean looking for, heavens your accent is certainly very Southern American, anyway I am visiting here and was watching the Beeb while bone-idle I saw a program about people and their bits and bobs and was inspired to venture out into the countryside to see what I could see. I was doing quite well but I first was nearly run off the carriageway by a brute in an artic and then I became trapped behind a caravan. Now I am desperate to find a chip shop and a chemist.”

 

I stared.

 

And stared some more.

 

He was rubbin’ his hind parts so I reckoned the chemist might have meant doctor for some hind parts problem. Thuh Sip n’ Dip Quick Stop had a lot of chips so I thought I might could help him out.

 

I stood up an’ walked down into thuh yard. The lose board almost got me again but I won this time. I rubbed my fingers across thuh stubble of my face and rubbed my belly as I ciphered out what tuh do.

 

“Now you first gotta go out back thuh way you came up thuh driveway an’ then take a left on to thuh road. You’ll pass thuh old bait shop on yer right but it’s closed now. Keep goin’ and you’ll come to a roundabout they put in not long ago. You just keep movin’ if their ain’t nobody a comin’ or you git their first. Just go counterclockwise. Then when thuh road deadends you’ll come out on thuh highway. Take a right and head on fer about 5 miles an’ you’ll come to a big building on yer right. Go inside and you’ll be on thuh ground floor. When you get in the elevator you’ll know you done got it right cause the G will light up and the little light will come on next to the silver button with a G on it. Go up to the first floor by pushin’ that 1 button. Lady right there will help you out for sure.”

 

He was starin’ at me.

 

An’ starin’.

 

“You have roundabouts?”

 

“Yeah, just stay to thuh right and won’t be wrong. I always wondered about that counterclockwise thing but I reckon it must be somthin’ about everything being about entering buildings through thuh right doors and exiting through thuh lefts, so they do the same with the roundabouts an’ roads.”

 

“And ground floors?”

 

“Well they on thuh ground ain’t they? What do ya’ call ‘em where you come from?”

 

“Ground floors.”

 

“I bet if someone called ’em uh first floor that sure would send you off on a hunt. An’ I almost fergot that chip place you can find along thuh way too.”

 

“Thank you so very much.” With a twirl he was off, humming his way back into his car and disappearing down the driveway.

 

Grandma came out. “What was that?”

 

“Guy from Boston looking for directions.”

 

“I heard you give him directions to the hospital but why did you send him up to the psychiatric ward.”

 

“Grandma, I figured they would either be able to figure out what he done said, or know what tuh do with him one.”

 

“Ronovan, you’ve been in the sun a while, have you burned?”

 

I slid my foot out of my flip flop and pulled down the sock. “Does look a might pink compared tuh the catfish belly white, don’t it?”

 

“You get in the house.”

 

I need me one of them over the pond type folks to answer muh questions. Heard tell there was uh guy named Hugh that might be able tuh help out. I wonder if they want Pippa to marry Harry, and would that make her Princess Pippa? Anyways, maybe that Hugh guy can tell us somethin’.

I Reckon That’s All

Ronovan

2014 © Copyright-All rights reserved-RonovanWrites.wordpress.com

Female Focus Friday Reblog: Murder she wrought! AWESOME! or nuts…

Nishi is either really insane or this is like incredibly original and funny. I mean seriously. I had to Reblog this For Female Feature Friday. Go check it out and get your knives read!!!!!
Much Respect
Ronovan

Nishi's avatarThe Showcase

The Farmers Wife or shall we call her Mrs Farmer was getting dinner ready at home..It was almost midday and the farmer household was quiet. The oldest of Mrs. F’s six was out in the field with Mr. Farmer and the little ones were at different spots all carrying out their allocated chores after they had come back from school. There was absolutely no dearth for work around the house and no one was too young to do their part.

She moved around the kitchen whilst preparing dinner. The Farmers were having meatloaf that evening and as she heard the kitchen timer ding, using her oven mitts she took out her signature dish out of the oven and slowly placed it on the kitchen counter. As the delicious aroma filled her kitchen, she turned to where the carving knives were placed and she could’nt help feeling a tingling sensation pass…

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Bus Stop Stories: Margaret and Martin-A Man’s Stomach. She wins? or He Loses?

“I don’t care, I’m not going to like it.” Martin’s arms were firmly crossed in combat formation.

“I know, dear.”

He lifted his hands, shoulders up around his ears. The first crack in his battle formation. “Then why are we going?”

“Because we must. If we don’t, you know what they will say.” Margaret’s head bobbed with every other word.

Martin’s hand slapped down on his gray slacks. He shook his head and stared at the sidewalk. The shaking stopped, and he looked at me. “I will trade with you.”

I held my hands up in defense.

He nodded. “I thought so.” He turned to Margaret. “See, I told you. I doubt I could pay for someone to take my place.” His shoulders sagged, his eyes focused on the reliable cracks in the pavement.

“No one you ask will know what you’re talking about. Besides, if we don’t go then we won’t be able to stop off at Strom’s Deli on the way back.” She leaned forward, as if she were looking for the bus.

The shoulders straightened. Martin’s eyes lifted from the sidewalk. “Well, I guess it would look bad if we were the only ones not there. It’s not like I have any problems with it, it’s just that it’s so far away. But if it will make you happy, then okay.”

Martin stood up as he heard the whine of the bus, that sound only a bus makes. Margaret stood and looked down at me. She winked and put her arm in through the crook of her husband’s.

He helped her up onto the first step of the bus and then followed. The way to a man’s heart is through his stomach. But so is his weakness.

 

 

© 2014-2020 Ronovan Hester Copyright reserved. The author asserts his moral and legal rights over this work.

Author Megan Elizabeth Morales

If you are a follower of Megan and have a facebook account, click like on her author page, https://www.facebook.com/meganelizabethmoralesauthorpage
If just half of us did that she would have a lot of supporters. Don’t worry about knowing who you are. She’ll just love having people support her. I even posted on my regular facebook page and my friends have clicked like for her. I think we in the community can do better than strangers can.

authormeganemorales's avatarmeganelizabethmorales

Author Megan Elizabeth Morales

Hiya Everyone!

One of my followers suggested that I should post my Facebook Author Page so that you guys can see what I post! Feel free to follow me on that as well! I don’t update it as often as I do on here, but I think its swell!

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Without Sound-A Poem

GentleTouch.jpg
gettyimages © Original Photo by Soren Hald

 

Without Sound by: Ronovan

 

Without sound there are no shouts

The angry face is a twisted stain

Left impressed upon a catalogued mind

Filled with slavering jabbering paintings

 

Without sound there are no voices

Smiling lady with purple dress

Man with cheap cologne

Little girl with bashful eyes

 

Without sound there are no divides

Intelligence in action

Kindness in being

Nationality in humanity

 

Without sound there is music

Hearts beating against one another

Vibrations of a touch echoing

Pounding of blood with the rush of love

 

Without sound actions speak louder than words

 

 

© Copyright-All rights reserved-RonovanWrites.wordpress.com-June 02, 2014.


 

Blue Socks

Blue Socks

by: Ronovan

 

I sat at the bus stop and laughter announced the arrival of Rod and Emerile. Rod nodded, I returned with a weak smile. He picked it up the meaning, glancing to my right.

The figure held the brim of a black fedora, twisting it out of shape. Rod elbowed Emerile. Both went silent staring up the street and into the sun as if looking for the bus.

Fingers squeezed into fists around the felt. They trembled as they settled upon his knees.

An occasional sigh was cut off by chocking sounds. Aftershave fought with the exhaust fumes of passing cars. He placed the fedora over his knee and took his left hand in his right, thumb touching the ring on his finger as if afraid it would break.

People became silent as they walked up to wait for the bus. The honking of horns began silent as if they knew. The hiss of airbrakes signaled the arrival of the bus. The man stood up and put on the crumpled brimmed fedora.

Rod and Emerile stood to one side as others did the same. The man nodded. The dark black suit climbed into the bus revealing a glimpse of navy blue socks.

© Copyright-All rights reserved-RonovanWrites.wordpress.com-June 11, 2014.

Toppings

Toppings

by: Ronovan

 Two Men Talking

I sat quietly at the bus stop as Rod and Anton walked up.

 

“You can’t be serious, man,” said Rod.

 

“Hey, you’re belief that the number of choices indicates a lack of committing is not proven by any quantifiable research,” said Anton.

Continue reading

Jacob: Chapter 1 Part 1

Jacob

Jacob

by: Ronovan

Chapter 1 Part 1

Over 100 years since the last time and I’m going to miss it. There it is, just the beginning. At least I get to see that much. A lunar eclipse, a complete one, and I’ll be stuck inside having to choose between two worlds I still know nothing about.

I suppose that makes sense today. The first day I can remember had storms, but then do you really remember the first day of sunshine? But today is different. This is the last day I will get to see this view. Where does that jagged laser of lightening strike or does it even strike at all? Why am I up here at all? And most importantly where will I end up striking?

18 years of being taught two worlds and I don’t know which one to choose. Everyone else seems to know where they will land as they fall out of this sky that the Academy represents. But I don’t know. Not much longer and I will be forced to pick what the rest of my life will be ruled by, what the rest of my life’s thoughts will be ruled by.

I think therefore I am. Are we really taught to think though? We are given ‘facts’ from two philosophies without really knowing how to determine which one is correct. How do you know if something is right if you aren’t taught how to determine right from wrong? This is fact, no this is fact. Who do you believe?

From the top of the Academy tower I can see both worlds I must choose between. But neither have I been invited into to experience. How can I choose without knowing the reality of each? How do I know if either are reality? Give each the same word and they each give a different definition.

The headache magnifies. Each one has been greater than the last as this day has grown nearer. But I am not sure which pain is greater, that in my head or that in my body as I am twisted and wrenched about. How do the others make it seem so easy? I burn inside when there is nothing to fuel the fire. There is no food there to give the flames the energy to cause the burning that I feel. It has been days.

The wind hits me as the approaching storm pushes the air before it, and I can smell the dampness that will be here soon. What a perfect day to decide the rest of a life. I close my eyes and take a deep breath of the damp air.

“Jump,” a voice whispers.

 

© Copyright-All rights reserved-RonovanWrites.wordpress.com-June 08, 2014.

RonovanWrites Week(in)d Review

If you are reading this then you know I tend to write random things at random times, it’s the nature of my beast. With that in mind I thought I would make note of my offerings here, in part so I would actually know what I did and when.

This Week’s Offerings:

Blogging and or Writing Tips
Blogging/Writing Tip: Use Animated Gif’s Wisely
Writing Tips: The basic tip to improve your knowledge of genre
Writing Tips: Short and Sweet Keeps Them in Their Seats

Humor
A Mother of a Letter

Life and Non Fiction
My Teacher
A Loss of…?
My Ocean, My Lover
Non Accidental Events Lead to Intentional Good-True Story
The Soundtrack of My Life

Odds and Ends
Eggplant by Train
Friday’s Follow for Inspiration
Online Poetry Magazine Submission Alert!
Atticus Books: Accepting Manuscript Submissions

Opinion Articles
Media, Massacres, and Madness
Men, Supersize Me, and Pornography (Trust me, don’t let the title scare you away.)

Photography or Really Pictures of my Cat
Feline Fridays: Meet Spunky
Wordless Wednesday: I’m Up For It

Poetry
No Surprise Amazing Grace
At Your Risk
Love Letter Found
A Moment in a Blink
The Lost Minded Heart
It’s not Poetry to me
Asphalt and Inheritance
If Walls Could Talk

 

Writing
Holloway Part One

As I was putting this list together it occurred to me that I was actually creating something more than just a somewhat newsletter type offering. I was actually showing myself what work I had done over the week. This let me know if my focus had been where I wanted it, and also helped show me where I was in my thoughts and life.

I believe these are all of the things I published this week, minus a video or two or reblogs.

Much Respect,
Ronovan

Holloway Part One

Holloway

by: Ronovan

Part One

French Boarding School

The lightening was high up in the clouds, threatening of the coming storm. It was the only light in the cloud covered night. The boys face was drenched and his forehead was plastered with his brown hair, not from the first drops of rain but with the sweat of anxiety of what he was facing. Hundreds of feet below lay trees and rocks and a river.

The boy’s chest was heaving as his breaths became quicker and quicker. He looked over his shoulder. His eyes suddenly became clear and void of the panic that had filled them moments before. He looked back out over the scene below him, closed his eyes, and leaped outward.

 

That’s where I wake up each time, and have every day for the past week. I could follow Eric all the way down, just like I did that first time, but I can’t, I won’t ever do that again. His funeral had been a week ago. After that my parents had given me something to make me sleep.

I stopped taking the pills when I couldn’t wake up from that first dream. Falling through trees and feeling them and hearing them as they snapped and tore at Eric and then the impact of his landing, never again.

At Ridgeline Lake we had all been at the cabins like we did every year. I was there with Emily and Abbie in one cabin, and Eric had been there with Jessie and Milo in another. Our parents had their own cabins. It was a tradition before school started back. We had to make it a week earlier than usual because of football practice for Eric and Jessie who were starting quarterback and tight end, Milo was team…well I don’t know exactly what he does, but it’s not water boy or anything like that, he does something with the electronics for the stadium and things like that.

It had been the best summer yet, with Eric and I having just started dating during the spring. He was a year older, which was fine, and the brother of Emily, which was weird because that almost made him my brother too. Emily, Abbie, and I had been best friends since Kindergarten so our families were each other’s families.

Early that Thursday morning, way before dawn I had sat up in bed. Everyone had put it down to a clap of thunder as the storm finally broke over the cabins. All I knew was something was wrong. I woke Emily and she came with me to my parents’ cabin. I told Dad that I was worried about something, that I just felt something was not right. Over the years he had learned to listen to my feelings.

We knew that Abbie was okay, so we went to the boys’ cabin. Eric wasn’t there. Milo, Abbie’s boyfriend, said he had heard something earlier but thought it was just one of the guys going to the bathroom. Dad ran to Eric’s parents’ cabin and a search began. They wouldn’t let the girls go because of the rain and lightening. But the fathers and boys went.

Jessie, Emily’s boyfriend and Eric’s best friend and Eric’s dad were the ones that found the note on the tree. It was too dark to tell what had happened. My Mom had already called the sheriff and as soon as it became light enough the storm had passed and they said they could see broken limbs down below where the note was found stuck to the tree with Eric’s pocket knife.

The river was up and moving fast so they couldn’t find Eric. The note said he was tired of trying to be perfect all the time and was just ready to rest. Wednesday they had a funeral to at least mark a spot for him to rest in. Everyone from school was there. I had noticed a lot of people staring at me, but I just thought it was out of curiosity. Yeah, they were curious.

 

 ~~*~~

“McKenna, hurry up, you’re going to make everyone late the first day of school!” Mom called up the stairs…again. This was supposed to be a big day, the biggest day yet for me and my girls. No, we’re not a gang or anything, but we had been looking forward to high school for two long years. The school had a history to it and you just knew when you walked through those doors you were an adult. Okay, so on your WAY to finally being an adult.

But things had changed. Mom had not listened when I said I didn’t want to go yet, that I wasn’t ready. Emily had said the same thing about her mom too. Abbie…well she was always ready for school. She got bored during the summer and wanted the challenge of seeing if a teacher could teach her something new. For her high school would be like a candy store full of new things she had never tried.

I looked in the mirror. I hated what I saw. Holloway High was not a private school but it had followed the trend of a dress code to keep everyone equal. I liked skirts, real skirts, but the gray pleated skirt and white blouse were just not real to me. But it was better than the khaki pants that I could have chosen. I’m sorry, but I am not in the army or like in my thirties. Give me jeans and a t-shirt or even a real dress and I am fine.

Glancing down out of my window I saw the top of a head of dark hair parted down the middle and tied off into two pigtails. It was hovering over a book and moving ever so slightly as the reader moved back and forth from word to word.

I grabbed my bag and thumped down the stairs. “Good luck, sis,” called a voice from an open doorway at the top of the stairs. I ran back up and through the door. The tall boy braced himself as I leaped at him. I felt the bear hug as my brother, a freshman in college showed me he loved me best.

“You too, bro,” I said as I punched him in the stomach. “And no sorority girls until junior year, remember, you promised.” I ran out without waiting for a reply.

Throwing open the front door I had barely opened my mouth when I heard, “Hiya, Mac.”

I looked at the back of the pigtailed head still reading the book. “And just how do you know it’s me?”

“I doubt your mother would resemble a thundering herd of rhinos coming down the stairs like that…twice,” Abbie said. “I take it Ken begins college today.”

Grrr…she knew everything. “Yeah,” I said as I leaped around and in front of her. Ken was short for McKenzie, just as Mac was short for McKenna. Are we Scottish or Irish? I have no idea.

Abbie looked up from her book and scrunched her nose to adjust her glasses. She looked me up and down in my uniform, which she was wearing the exact same version of. She nodded and stood up. When I said she wore the exact same version I meant even the size, although she was smaller than me by a little. She never wore clothes that fit her.

“Did you eat breakfast, or are you sticking with tradition?” She asked me as we began walking to the Japanese but made in America SUV parked in the driveway. It was Mom’s turn for carpool. We could ride the bus but we didn’t. I have no idea why not, the mom’s had just decided it years ago.

The doors clicked and I jumped in the front while Abbie slid into the back and across to behind the driver’s seat. Mom walked around the front with the keys in her hand. “Always stick with tradition,” I said.

“Good, because Em has a new yogurt she wants me to try and some kind of bagel with like all sorts of things in it for you,” said Abbie. “She said she forgot to ask you last night before you two hung up.”

“I didn’t even think about it,” I said. Last night the thought of breakfast had been as far from my mind as…as…hmm…as anything else. “Em always comes through though.” Emily always had something for us for breakfast, just a little something. Okay something little for her and Abbie, and something crazy for me. I liked to eat but I worked out a lot so I could handle it.

We all lived on the same street, although it was a long street. Abbie always walked to my house because she wasn’t far away and she liked to read along the way. Then either Mom or Emily’s mom would take us to school. Abbie’s mom was the pickup mom after school. Emily lived a little further along the street at the very end. The gates were just shutting as she was attempting to hold a bag of our food, a holder of drinks, and wondering what to do with her book bag.

Mom saw the situation, sped up just a little and came to a quick stop. I jumped out and grabbed the drinks. “You seriously need to have like someone out here and help you or have them put a table by the mailbox,” I said as she hugged me. I stood back and looked at her.

We wore the same thing but she still looked like a million dollars. I looked like just the average girl who just…didn’t…care? I cared how I looked. It’s just that there wasn’t anyone at school I cared to impress enough to take the time. Not that Emily really took much time. She was just naturally gorgeous.

Even though we all had to wear the same brand and colors of clothing, shoes and accessories were different. And accessories made the difference. Don’t ask me the name of her shoes or the cut of the diamonds in her ears. But she made them both work, not that she needed them.

She jumped in behind my seat and I got in with the drinks. I handed Mom her coffee, and passed Abbie her juice, and Emily her smoothie. I had a big bottle of milk. I liked milk. When we were all little people thought we were sisters because we all had dark hair and dark eyes, and we might as well be. But we had always been very different in a lot of ways.

The bagel was loaded with roasted veggies and some white cheese, amazing. Before I took my second bite, I asked a question. “Hey, Abbie?”

“Yeah?”

“Do you have your locker planned yet?” I heard an almost snort from Emily.

There was a muffled noise from Abbie and I glanced back. She was nodding with one hand slightly up to her mouth as she was swallowing her yogurt quickly. “Yes. I was able to get the list of books and find out the sizes. I have the perfect plan for what I want to do.”

I didn’t dare look in the mirror. One of the last things Emily and I had talked about was Abbie’s tradition of planning out the most efficient locker. It was a thing she did and it actually always worked out best. Our lockers were never that neat and we always had to hunt for things.

I caught the raised eyebrow from Mom. I gave her my toothy innocent grin and she just shook her head and took a sip of the gourmet coffee from Emily’s housekeeper.

“What class do you have first, Mac?” Emily asked.

“I have English with Ms. Trask. “How about you?”

“P.E. with Coach Tompkins, can you believe it? First period?” I could see her eyes rolling in the visor mirror. “What do you have Abbie?”

“Honor’s Algebra with Mr. Mason.” We all got kind of quiet as we realized that we weren’t going to be in the same classes any more. Emily and I might luck into some, but Abbie was going to be in a whole different world than us. I mean Emily and I are good in some classes but who knows if schedules will let all three of us be in those together.

Mom joined the line of cars dropping off students. I guess if every student rode the bus then they would need a lot more busses.

“There he is!” Emily shouted in my ear. She had leaned forward and for some reason was looking over my shoulder at exactly the same view she could have seen from her window.

“Might as well let us out here, Mrs. Lark,” said Abbie.

“Yeah,” I said, as I gathered up my bag. “She’s spotted Jessiekins. Bleck.”

I felt the tap on the top of my head. “Oh, hush,” said Emily. But Mom stopped and before Emily could even touch the handle the door was promptly opened by the muscular blonde boy wearing khaki pants and pale blue polo, of course covered by the Holloway High crimson and white letterman’s jacket.

“About time you showed up, princess,” said Jessie. Some might almost hurl at hearing his nickname for her but the truth was he treated her like one. It wasn’t a cheap name every boy in school called their girlfriend. You could see it in his ice blue eyes that he really adored her.

Abbie scooted around the oblivious duo and slipped her hand into Milo’s. Their adoration was less obvious but no less real. “Call me if you need me, McKenna,” said Mom. “I have to meet a client about a catering assignment but it’s okay to call.”

“Will do,” I said smiling. Mom was her own boss. She ran a catering company that didn’t just handle business in Holloway but pretty much anywhere. She even had assignments several states away. She was good. She pulled away and I turned back to look at my new school.

Holloway High was at one time the home of an exiled member of French royalty. He had this huge palace built out here in the middle of nowhere that was now a school. There were a lot of stories about from when the guy lived there.

The walkway to the main doors was wide and designed with tiles. There were tall trees everywhere and flowers of all kinds. It was really an odd place for a school and had even appeared in magazines and on TV several times. Movie companies used it during the summer sometimes.

“Don’t be too impressed,” said Jessie, who had finally stopped hugging Emily. He nodded at the high school. “It looks impressive, sure, but once inside and in classes, it doesn’t take long to just think of it as a school.”

“Very true,” said Milo.

Before we could even take a step toward the school four figures stepped in front of us blocking our way.

 

© Copyright-All rights reserved-RonovanWrites.wordpress.com-June 05, 2014.

Writing and Blogging For Therapy

Why did you start blogging? For some it was to create a platform for their writing in preparation for a career as an Author. Others may have approached it as a way to share their creativity or even a cause they have embraced. And yet there is another category, therapy.

There are people who do not have an outlet in their lives to free their minds and souls of what ails them or inspires them. If they try, the people around them look at them strangely or even interfere. However, if they blog, they are looked upon as artists and inspirations. They are accomplishing something!

I’m not really certain as to why I began to blog, perhaps a platform, not a hobby, but most definitely therapy. I have so many thoughts and ideas that I need to get them out of my head and somewhere else.

I wonder if it’s validation I am seeking? But then I am also a person that likes to support and encourage others to push forward. I may see doubt in a specific word but in the body of the work I see hope and potential and I like to share that vision.

You may receive a comment from me every now and then. I only comment if I really feel moved to do so. It may be by the piece posted, or something that just inspires me that this person needs to be talked to, or maybe a personal link that I feel.

Whatever reason you post, it is a therapy of sorts and it does allow for healing in many ways. Just make sure to keep relying on the output of your thoughts and ideas instead of the input of the comments of others to help you know that you are great at what you do. Yes, professionals help you, but I am speaking of those of us who may not be complimentary for other reasons.

Every piece I see in blogs has something to it that I learn from even if it is not my cup of tea so to speak. It might be the most awful piece of garbage ever, but I learned how not to do something. Being honest there. I may not click like on the ones I really do like at times as I have a problem with remembering to do certain tasks at times, but I learned from it. So keep posting, keep therapying, I know I made up a word, but that’s part of the fun, isn’t it? I’ll keep reading, liking, when I remember, commenting and learning. And thank you for helping with my therapy by sharing your own.

Why did you start Writing or Blogging?

 

writing-blogging-therapy This is Kitty you might read about in some of my articles.

© Copyright-All rights reserved-RonovanWrites.wordpress.com-May 27, 2014.

Writing Tips: Working Through Writer’s Doubt…Just Flip It 3 Ways.

Book with Question Mark

 

JUST GIVE UP, YOU CAN’T WRITE WELL ENOUGH TO GET PUBLISHED! Did that get your attention? It gets mine each time I face writer’s doubt when rejected either through email or get the SILENT treatment we all just love waiting for regarding my latest novel attempt. And to be honest, that give up feeling is strong and succeeds for a while…at first. It takes a few battles in the war before you realize that not every agent has the time to reply to the hundreds of people wanting to get their book signed.

But you get over it. You just have to learn to get over it quickly. What are some ways to do that?

 

 

Write Differently: I write novels so instead I writeWriting Differently

Poetry

Haiku

Flash Fiction

Blog Articles

 

 

Rewriting        Rewrite Someone Else’s Stuff

(Take your favorite book or almost favorite

and do one of the following)

                   Change the setting and time of the book.

     Turn it into a Super Hero comic.

                          Flip the leads.

  Make the good guy a bad guy.

                 Turn the Horror story into a Romance.

 

 

Take a World Event and Change the Characters or LocationColin Anderson Working Through Doubts

Change the Leaders into TV show or Cartoon characters and write how they might react in the same situation as the real leaders involved.

Make the World Event happen on an alien World or on a huge space station.

Make the Leaders have split personalities that fight themselves to control what happens.

 

After a few experiences you learn to immediately go to something to write after a rejection, doubt, or writer’s block. It just comes with the territory. But even then there will be times that it gets to you. Just remember the only way you don’t win is if you give up.

But while you doubt or get down about your project just keep writing something creative. The more you write the better you get. I know that’s old advice but it really is true. I use Flash Fiction a lot as my go to when I just can’t get going on a novel and it really trains me to be a better writer. I scale down a scene to the bare bones while still relaying it to the reader. That’s what you want to do in your regular writing anyway.

The above are just a few of my thoughts on how to overcome those moments, what are some of your ideas?

You may be interested in 3 Writing Tips: To Know When to Stop Writing…for the day…and how.

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