31 Days of Writing: Day Thirty-one "Worst Costume"

What's the worst Halloween costume you've ever seen?

I get that some people are full of puns, but sometimes you just need to step it up a notch.

the ceiling fan

Also, this list is literally FULL of "office" costumes... because you have to be somehow work-related if you're dressing up at work? Please no.

Speaking of dressing up at the office, it didn't happen today. Apparently I heard Mom say that I could dress up, but she actually said that I could wear a headband with ears. And Dad said that I could dress up as a young professional in the workplace. Otherwise known as zzzzzz asleep! Oh well. Frankenstein tonight, dressed as part of the Fantastic Fox Family! :D Could we fit a few more F's in that sentence, por favor?

Just a note on 31 Days of Writing, since today is the last day:

Victoria, thank you for hosting this brilliant conglomeration of prompts. I have so enjoyed letting my creative juices flow, and I've loved reading your work. Feel free to host another one of these link-ups in a couple
months!

Readers, have you enjoyed the past 31 days? What was your favorite prompt and/or response? Do you have any suggestions for next time?

**linking up with Victoria - the costumes she's shared are truly frightening!**

31 Days of Writing: Day Thirty "Wild Card 6"

The thing with getting into this creative writing brain wave is that sometimes it's hard to get out of it. I had a really great blog post thought yesterday, but now I can't remember it. So instead, I will share Halloween plans, because, um, hello, it's tomorrow!

In the office: I'm considering dressing up as Rosie the Riveter. I have a Rosie apron from my grandmother {who was a Rosie, woot!} and then I figured I could roll up my sleeves and put a scarf on my head. Easy and office appropriate, right? I just don't want to be the random kid who dressed up when all the adults are in their regular attire. We'll see. It might be worth it just to wear jeans on a non-Friday :)

For Frankenstein: Samara and Cami and I are going as the Fantastic Fox Family! :D Have you seen Fantastic Mr. Fox? It's totes adorbs, and we have fox costumes!!! Samara is Mr. Fox, Cami is Mrs. Fox, and I am their son Ash.

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Ash is the one on the right with the thing on his head. Yep. You'll see pictures soon :) It's gonna be fantastic...get it? Fantastic?

Well, that's really all I've got. Oh wait. There's one more thing.

The library emailed me yesterday to let me know that after placing a hold on August 28th, a book is finally here for me to read. Can you guess what would be in such high demand that it took more than two months to get here? Think deep, spiritual thoughts and prepare to be....

her website

WRONG! This book is neither deep nor spiritual, so HA! :) But it promises to be a crack-up and I am so looking forward to getting into to it tonight {"oh! naughty!" to quote Miranda herself}. 

Anyway, have a wonderful Hump Day!

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**linking up with Victoria**

31 Days of Writing: Day Twenty-nine "Spooky"

What's the spookiest thing you've ever done?

It didn't start out with a mission to be spooky. My friends and I were just going to go through the corn maze...at sunset...the night before Halloween...without flashlights. What can I say? We were in high school and dumb.

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At first, we were goofing around and scaring each other by jumping out of the corn and yelling or tickling someone else's neck with a piece of dried corn husk. A few people would run ahead and hide, then reach out and grab someone as the group came by. We were all screaming and laughing and having a good time.

Then we heard a noise. It was like a tractor engine, but louder and deeper. The ground rumbled beneath our feet. Not too frightening, except that the farm owners had told us that everyone stopped working at dusk, right as we had entered the maze. No one should be out on a tractor; we were the last group to go through the maze, thanks to the farmer being Jack's uncle. 

We all looked at each other; no one was screaming now. Almost as one unit, we squished onto the path together and continued to follow the maze. No one admitted to anything, but we were all freaked out and wanted to leave the corn maze as soon as we could.

After a few twists and turns through the maze, we started to get concerned. Hadn't we been here before? we were all wondering. I mean, it is a maze, but we were teenagers. Surely we could figure this little maze out, right?

"LOOK!" Christy yelled. A mitten lay on the ground in front of us, looking especially purple under the glow of the flashlight..looking especially like my mitten. I checked my pockets. 

"It's mine!" I confirmed loudly, confidently. I wanted to sound brave, but then I realized that a lost-turned-found mitten realized that we had no idea how to get out of the maze. A wave of fear washed over the group. And then we heard that same noise again. 

Matt took charge. "Alright, everyone, it's a simple maze. We can do this. Everybody hold hands with someone else. We're going to go through this together. Put flashlights every few people and shine them in all directions. That way the front of the group can see the back of the group and we won't take any wrong turns, alright? And no smart alecks, ok? Let's get out of here and save the scary stuff for later."

We mumbled our agreement and arranged ourselves in the directed order. I held hands with my best friend Joy and her brother Dale, who carried a flashlight. Feeling like small children instead of cool teenagers, we made our way through the corn maze. 

Matt must have been an experienced hiker, because he led us out of the maze with only a couple dead end turns. Relief flooded through my body as I exited the maze. The farmer's house lights shone on us, and we made our way to our cars.

Afterwards, Jack told us that his uncle told him that the noise was a sound effect for the maze, and it was attached to motion sensors, one of which would go off even without a motion. That explained the noise. In the daylight, the maze is simple and fun. But my friends and I try to avoid corn mazes at night. We know how spooky they can be in the dark. 

**linking up with Victoria!**

31 Days of Writing: Day Twenty-eight "Pursue an Idea"

Did you stumble upon any interesting ideas through the past 27 prompts? If so, use this day to pursue one of them.

The month of October is almost over- yikes! I really can't believe that this 31 Days segment is almost over. I've really enjoyed getting into the creative side of writing, although I have missed the heart-to-heart "conversations" that are non-fiction {otherwise known as story of my life}.

Have I found some interesting ideas? Yes, actually, but not all of them are plot-related. Some of the most interesting ideas have been about me as a writer, which is kind of weird, since I never considered myself to be a writer. But this month God totally used the 31 Days and a new writing guild within my church to say, "Hey, I've put words in you and it's time to prepare for them to come out!"

Not exactly what I was expecting to happen, I'll be honest. But who expects the things that God does? :)

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So I sort of alluded to some of this process on Day Ten, and then when this writing guild {nicknamed "The Boot"} started last Sunday, I realized that things were moving forward. Really moving. And it's exciting and nerve-wracking and thrilling and kinda weird that it's happening. And I will share even more when these 31 Days are over, so just wait! And to answer today's prompt, here's what I'm pursuing currently:

Edna Walters, the character I developed earlier, is going to continue to exist. I have an idea for where she's going and what the conflict and resolution will be, but that's all for right now. And of course I can't tell you now, because "spoilers!" :)

Open Letters {first; second}: I want to write one at least once a month. These are creative ways to express thoughts, and I want to keep the creative juices flowing!

Victoria mentioned continuing to write poetry, and while I think that would be great, I just don't know if that's going to happen for me. Poetry is not my default thinking pattern, but if there's a prompt and a challenge, I may just rise to the occasion. We'll see :)

That's what I'm pursuing! Until next time...

**linking up with Victoria**

31 Days of Writing: Day Twenty-seven "Write A Haiku"

Sisters

Four girls in total

A gang combining

love, wit, and sarcasm

circa 1997

**linking up with Victoria**

31 Days of Writing: Day Twenty-six "Make Your Own Prompt"

Victoria's prompt: Create and respond to your own post.

My prompt {stolen from some college}: Create a short story with 26 sentences, each sentence starting with the next letter of the alphabet.

The Reunion

A long time ago, a child was born to a poor family. Believing themselves unable to provide for this new baby, the mother and father tearfully asked another family to raise their daughter. Crying, they bid farewell to the infant and blessed the adoptive parents in this sacrificial endeavor.

Decades later, this infant daughter-grown-to-woman went back to find the home of her birth parents. Encountering these parents created a tension within her; part of her wanted to embrace them and thank them, part of her wanted to ask why they gave her up, and part of her didn't know what it wanted. Faltering steps led her closer and closer to the home where she was born. Eager but timid, full of both anticipation and dread, she reached her destination. Gone were her ideas about how this situation would play out. Hesitantly, she rapped on the door. It opened after what felt like years.

Just moments previously, an older couple prepared to sit down in front of their fireplace. Kneeling, the man added a couple logs to the fire, then shakily stood to his feet. Limping from a stiff knee, the man made his way to the chair next to his wife's. Many evenings have passed like this one, sitting together before the fire. Now, though, their evening was to be interrupted...

Outside, the young woman waited as the door opened wider and wider, revealing an old, slightly hunched man by the door and an old woman getting to her feet behind him. Perplexed, they looked at her. Questions filled their eyes, and the old man was just about to tell this young lady to find someone else to bother when the woman opened her mouth.

"Roland? Sadie?" The young woman inquired. "Unless I am mistaken, these are your names, correct? Val and Lacey told me your names, and where you live, and they said that I should meet you because you...you are...."

"Where....how....what on earth..." the older man sputtered.

"Xenia, you've come home!" Yelled the older woman, and she leaped towards to the door with an energy that surpassed her many years; her husband watched her, then followed her lead. Zeal, wonder, awe, and many years of pent-up tears came flowing out as the family was reunited.

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The End

**linking up with Victoria**

31 Days of Writing: Day Twenty-five "Bumper Sticker"

You've been hired by a bumper sticker manufacturer to come up with ideas. Write a clever or witty phrase you'd love to see on a bumper sticker. If you want, write several.

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The horses of my horsepower are getting old. Feel free to pass them.

Keep Calm and Turn Off Your Blinker


**linking up with Victoria**

31 Days of Writing: Day Twenty-four "Twitter Poem"

Write a poem in 140 characters or less. If you're on Twitter, tweet it!

Laughter past bedtime. Bellyaches from joy. Salted chocolate indulgence. Doctor Who galore. It's good to live with @iwaitandhope

**linking up with Victoria**

31 Days of Writing: Day Twenty-three "Wild Card 5"

This is fact, not fiction. I promise.

THEY RELEASED THE AIR DATE OF SHERLOCK SEASON THREE!!!!!

Check out the article that is warming hearts all over the world.

yes, this is the picture from the article

So in honor of this great news, today's Wild Card is an open letter to Steven Moffat, co-creator and writer of Sherlock {and writer of Doctor Who, of course!}.

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Dear, dear Moffat,

First of all, you are a BRILLIANT writer. I don't know how you do it, but somehow your clever little head creates and produces these stories and twists and turns and clues, and it all comes out beautifully. It doesn't matter if we're discussing Doctor Who or Sherlock {not that you're limited to these two; these are just the two with which I'm familiar}. Your work is wonderful.

That being said, you are a cruel man. Characters are created and loved...and then killed. Or separated from the Doctor forever. Or doomed to die if they remember the Doctor. Or left waiting for the Doctor until they die. Or they watch their best friend commit suicide. And then go back to their therapist to try and cope. And then they get to see him alive again, after how many months of agony???

My conclusion must be that you are power-hungry, even if you are a jolly nice Scot. Yes, power-hungry, because you give and take, teasing fans with pictures from Season Three, yet not releasing an air date. Until now. I know that BBC is partially to blame for the wait, as well as busy schedules for practically everyone involved. But still. You are such a tease!

But after all that, I can't hate you, Moffat. You are far too brilliant to be hated. You do eventually deliver your characters, even when your fans think that hell will freeze over before we get to see them again. And I think, secretly, that fans love the suspense because we are all nerds who love "the feels." You are the master of feels, Moffat, and for that, we love you. Thank you for Season Three. I can't wait to see even more of your brilliance. 

**linking up with Victoria. Check out her Wild Card here!**

31 Days of Writing: Day Twenty-two "Wild Card 4"

Let's just say that this is definitely the twenty-second day of writing creatively. My brain is beat.

Right now it seems like there are a lot of serious things I can think of, but those things are conducive to writing creatively. Those things are more "think about these more" things than "let your creative juices flow all over them" things.

Here is what I can think of: a confession. This is real and true and also slightly humorous. Here goes.

My best friend had {has?} a fear, dare I call it an irrational fear, ever since 11th grade and Classical Literature class, that one day her Achilles tendon would snap. Gross. And frightening. But mainly gross.

I always just stuck with the gross thought, because I don't like to think about body parts not functioning as they should. {Read about my fainting adventure here} So I would just roll my eyes and encourage my friend to think of lighter, less gross things.

Today I realized my irrational fear. It is this: I'm driving and the car in front of me flicks a cigarette out of their window and a breeze catches the little tiny flame inside the cigarette right as my car drives over it...and my car explodes.

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This really is a fear of mine. Every time I see someone throw a cigarette out a car window, I brace myself in what could be the last two seconds of my life. So far it hasn't happened, obviously, but it very well could. And that's what's scary. And that's probably what will make other people roll their eyes and tell me to think of lighter, less explosive things. 

**linking up with Victoria!**

31 Days of Writing: Day Twenty-one “Playlist”

What would the character you created have on her iTunes playlist?

Edna Walters, the character I developed on Day Fifteen, probably would not have iTunes. She may not be able to tell you what a playlist is. But after you prompted her for her favorite songs, she would provide you with this list:

• Sunrise, Sunset performed by Louis Armstrong
• Come Fly with Me from Frank Sinatra
• How Great Thou Art sung by Johnny Cash
• Jackson by Johnny Cash and June Carter
• Shall We Dance? from The King & I

**linking up with Victoria!**

31 Days of Writing: Day Twenty “Daycare Day”

What thoughts run through a baby’s mind through the course of a day at daycare?

Car ride! I like car rides! Car rides put me to sleep sometimes, and they take me fun places…except one place. The Place that has the playground is not my favorite place, and I don’t like it. But as long as we’re not going to The Place, then everything is funner than a pacifier.

Uh oh. There’s the playground. We are at The Place. Mom, no! I protest:

Waaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaah!!!

I don’t like The Place! Mommy leaves me and it’s no fun and- is that a cookie?

The Place has cookies!? Yes! A smiling lady is holding out a cookie towards me. I grab it as well as my two-year-old dexterity can, and I shove the cookie into my mouth. Half of it crumbles into my hand, so I stick my hand in my mouth too. Cookies are too rare to waste.

While I’m licking my hand, another kid comes up to me. He looks at me and moves his hand. I wiggle my foot in response. We both head to the blocks; blocks are cool.

After playing with the blocks for a while, I notice the smiling lady is singing and dancing. She motions for me to join in. I twist my wrists and open my mouth to sing:

Ooooooooooooalalalaooooolllllmmmmmmm!

We sing for a while, and then suddenly I’m exhausted. My hands fall into my lap, and my singing turns into a yawn. I blink a couple of times. The smiling lady notices and moves me to a soft mat with a snuggly blanket. I’m out before my head hits the pillow.

When I wake up, Mom is here! I greet her happiliy:

Abababababagoooooommmmmmmloppp!

She picks me up, and we get into the car, heading home. I guess The Place isn’t so bad after all.

**linking up with Victoria!**

31 Days of Writing: Day Nineteen "Writers Are Readers"

Writers are first great readers. Share an excellent piece of writing that you've read recently.

There are so many great pieces I could share with you! Specific blog posts come to mind, recent novels beg for attention, and of course Victor Hugo smirks at me in my mind. Nothing competes with Victor Hugo.

So maybe instead I'll give you a handful of my current favorites. If it doesn't fit with the prompt, then I guess you're at the wrong blog, because we roll with flexibility up in he-ah. And so commences the list of faves.

• Jen Hatmaker's recent post makes me go hmmmm. I love how honest and cut-the-crap she is.
• If you want excellent writing and absolutely no life whatsoever, by all means start this trilogy by Neal Shusterman. The first book is called Unwind and let's just say it will suck you into its world and you will not get out. The second book is UnWholly and the third is UnSouled. I finished the second book at 11:30 last night...an hour after I told myself I was going to bed. Yep. That good.
• I'll finish with a classic: Anne Shirley. I'm currently re-reading Anne of Windy Poplars and I just love Maud's style! Here are a few wonderful quotes from our beloved Anne:

"The Woman told her that Tomorrow never comes, but Elizabeth knows better. It will come sometime. Some beautiful morning she will just wake up and find it is Tomorrow. Not Today but Tomorrow. And then things will happen...wonderful things."

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"One can always find something lovely to look at or listen to," said Anne.

"I hate to lend a book I love...it never seems quite the same when it comes back to me."

**linking up with Victoria.**

31 Days of Writing: Day Eighteen "Jaw Dropper"

"My jaw dropped to the floor. I couldn't believe..."


...that my mom lied to me.

She told me that my old friend Louisa wanted to get together at Skate King, the roller-blade place in town. What Mom didn't tell me was that ALL my friends from school were gathered there to surprise me for my birthday.

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Unsuspectingly, I had walked into Skate King, keeping my eyes open for Lou. No sign of her, but then "SURPRISE!!" erupted in front of me. My friends had come to celebrate, and my mom had kept it a secret.

As my friends and I made laps around the skating rink, I kept pondering all the lies my mother had told me. When I reached the end of the rink where she stood, I asked her, "So what about not having a party this year?"

"I lied," was her satisfied response.

Another lap. Another question.

"What about your dinner party tonight?"

"I lied."

I skated another lap or two.

"So when you said..."

"All lies." My mom grinned.

I guess this was the best deception a girl could wish for her golden birthday.

{This story is loosely based on a sister's experience. Many creative licenses were taken, though.}

**linking up with Victoria. Check out her wonderful story today!**

31 Days of Writing: Day Seventeen "All-Nighter"

Write about pulling an all-nighter.

The Longest Night

Coffee in cup? Check.

iTunes set to shuffle all music? Check.

Syllabus in hand? Check.

Computer charged and Microsoft Word opened? Check.

If everything is ready, why don't I feel prepared to write this paper? It's just a simple little paper...only 10 pages long. Ok, maybe it's not that simple. Especially since I've only written the first paragraph. And even more especially since it's due at 9:00 AM tomorrow.

I have exactly ten hours to write this paper, plus print it off, get dressed, and then get to Professor Waylon's office. So nine and a half hours, technically.

The clock is not on my side. The minute hand moves  to 10:02, taunting me. Glancing out the window, I see that the moon is already out with the stars. It's beautiful, but it's a cruel beauty. I should be able to appreciate the sky for just a moment, but this paper won't write itself.

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I sigh, taking one more moment to gaze at the stars before sitting down and resigning myself to write this paper.

Two hours later...

Well, things are cooking. I've got a page and a half done, which is about as encouraging as hearing that The Hobbit is going to be a trilogy. Hey, maybe I can work some Tolkien references into my paper...

One hour later...

Alright, I'm on the third page! And I just found a whole bunch of quotes I can use - victory!

90 minutes later...

It's 2:30 AM, and I'm on the sixth page. I guess my brain really likes this time of night. My body doesn't; my head keeps tilting downward even as my fingers are typing furiously. Only a few more pages to go now, and I tell myself that I will enlarge the font of the periods as soon as I reach the ninth page.

75 minutes later...

It's almost 4am, and I am groggy. Fortunately, the ninth page is just a paragraph away. What to write, what to write? I should check my sources again, maybe fill in with another quote. Maybe a story for my introduction? I usually go back and add to my introduction; it helps me make sure the intro is appropriate for the direction of the paper.  Back to the beginning I go.

45 minutes later...

I'm one and a half lines onto the ninth page. Barely there, but I keep my promises, especially when a couple hours of sleep is at stake. The "find and replace" tool is my favorite thing in the world right now...

30 minutes later...

I'm two "enter" strokes away from the tenth page. Conclusion. That's what I need. A good, juicy conclusion. If I can write a conclusion by 5:00, then I can sleep for 3 hours before getting up to print my paper. Just gotta conclude that my thesis is right.

40 minutes later...

To quote Jesus, "It is finished." Boom. Like a...not a boss, because bosses get their stuff done before the night before/morning of. But like a senior in college, not a newbie freshman. Well, not exactly that either. Never mind. I give up on analogies here. I just wrote ten pages in under eight hours, and I'm going to take a nap. Nighty night...

**linking up with Victoria. Show her some comment love, if you don't mind :) **

31 Days of Writing: Day Sixteen "Write A Monologue"

Write a monologue for the character you developed yesterday.

It is my oldest child's birthday today, and I am reflecting on that joyous and nerve-wracking day 46 years ago.

We had tried for so long to conceive, and now here we were, about to have our first child. Jim was thrilled, of course, but I was still nervous about the delivery...and beyond. Would I be able to deliver this child safely? Would I be a good mother? So many questions, but I tried to put on a good face for Jim.

The delivery went smoothly enough, for a first time; Callie's birth was much easier, as they say the second babies are. Ah, Callie. She was an easy baby, so willing to be held in almost any position, and such an easy sleeper! James and Ryan had always needed a little extra coaxing to fall asleep, but Callie usually fell asleep before you even tried to put her down.

I wonder how she's sleeping these days.

She is running from something, or to something, I don't know. Is she looking for something? Trying to get away from something here? I know I'm not sleeping well because I can't stop thinking about her, worrying about her, praying for her, crying for her.

I don't know if it's something I've done... I've apologized a dozen times, trying to make amends for something, anything I did that could have hurt her, but I don't know what I'm apologizing for, and the apologies only seem to make matters worse, make her more distant. A couple months ago I stopped apologizing and told my daughter that if she wants to talk, I'm here, and I love you, Callie. I love you so, so much.

**linking up with Victoria!**

31 Days of Writing: Day Fifteen "Develop A Character"

Name: Edna Walters

Place of Birth: Burnaby, BC, Canada

Current Residence: Clearbrook, WA, USA

Age: 71 years old

Family: married to Jim Walters for 49 years; mother to James, Callie, and Ryan; grandmother to Lily and Arthur {James' children with his wife Julia}

Favorites: driving up to Canada for the weekend; having the grandchildren over to play; holding hands with Jim; family gatherings.

Story:
Edna loves her family and her ranch-style home. Home is where the family and the home-cooking are! Her relationships with her sons are strong; they both live in the area and visit often. But Edna's relationship with Callie is tenuous, although Edna can't quite define why.

Callie moved to Oregon when she was 19, then Nevada, and now resides in Wyoming. There is the feeling that Callie is distancing herself from something or someone, although no one in the family can guess what. There is no event or conversation that can be pinpointed as the fracturing point, and this causes Edna a great deal of stress and pain.

Jim and Edna's 50th anniversary is coming up, and as the Golden Date approaches, Edna worries her daughter is running farther and farther away from the family.


**linking up with Victoria!**

31 Days of Writing: Day Fourteen “Wild Card 3”

“The Trunk That Saves the Universe”

                    image credit
Tardis in a trunk. It’s perfect. My sister and I will decorate the trunk of my car to look like the TARDIS, and then we will dress ourselves up as the Doctor {the Tenth, of course} and a companion {Rose, of course} and then we will pass out candy to the children who walk around the parking lot of church.
It’s completely brilliant.

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I think that we will hang a blue sheet to completely cover the inside of the trunk. Gotta set the scene, you know. And then we will add some cords and tubes and scientific-looking objects, to accessorize the sides. In the middle, we will put a huge vase and fill it with colored water. Perhaps Dad can help us rig a pump of some sort…
We personally will accessorize with a Sonic Screwdriver and some Psychic Paper. We will look legit.
For candy, we’ll hand out Milky Ways and Moon Pies.
Our trunk will be so TARDIS-like that people will want to climb inside the trunk to see if it’s bigger on the inside.
And that is how we will save the universe, one trunk-or-treater at a time.

**linking up with Victoria!**

31 Days of Writing: Day Thirteen “Creative Response to Instagram”

Write a creative response to any image on my {Victoria’s} Instagram feed.

**I am responding to one of the many fall-oriented pictures Victoria has captured.**

 

Trees change colors. Leaves crunch beneath her feet. Boots and scarves are common garb for her.

A few trees shift their shade. Leaves crunch until the first rain. Rain-boots and umbrellas are common accessories for me. 

I love the Pacific Northwest. I love Kentucky. My heart belongs in both places.

Nothing can ever top {ha! literally} my Mount Rainier. Nothing compares to the sound of the Sound.

The Northwest’s falls, however, fall short. Kentucky reigns supreme in autumn; here it just rains.

Thank you, Victoria-by-way-of-Insta, for sharing your Fall with me.

 

**linking up with Victoria!**

31 Days of Writing: Day Twelve "One Sentence"

Write one sentence about one thing you saw today.

The milk was like Mr. Sandman; she drifted off to sleep as she drank in my arms.


**linking up with Victoria! Join us.**

31 Days of Writing: Day Eleven "Turn a Corner"

You turn a corner and are surprised to find...

...a blue police box. But then you are not so surprised, because you've always knew it was true.

You look around, searching for the Doctor. Where is he? Is he still inside? Has he just regenerated and is recovering? If the door is locked, it must be a sign to go in. With a deep breath, you push open to door. It opens easily; the Doctor must keep it well-oiled... or traveling through time does that. Whatevs. The door opens, and that is enough.

The door opens all the way, and you tentatively take a step inside, then another step, until you're standing right in the center of the TARDIS. It really is bigger on the inside, and as you turn to admire the grandness of the time machine, suddenly you hear that all-familiar sound. The TARDIS is taking off!

Wait.... who is flying the TARDIS!?!?!?

Frantically you look around for any indication of the Doctor's presence. Then you hear his voice, and you rub your eyes to help clear your vision.

Rubbing your eyes wakes you up. You realize that you've been dreaming, and that a Doctor Who episode has just started on the telly. A wave of disappointment flows over you, but only until you realize that this is not just any Doctor Who episode; this is the 50th anniversary episode! Your TARDIS adventure is just beginning...

via...careful: spoilers!

**linking up with Victoria. Join us!**

31 Days of Writing: Day Ten "In Progress"

Are you working on any writing projects? Refine and share a few ideas from that! {If not, sketch out some ideas for an upcoming project.}

Just as Victoria felt the need to clarify fact or fiction in this post, I must do the same. This is Bek here; no imaginary characters today.

To answer the prompt, no, currently I'm not working on any writing project. This blog is about as writer-esque as I get. But I think that's changing.

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My sister is going to school right now to become a writer. She has started so many stories, both in her head and on paper, that I can't understand how she keeps track of them. She's brilliant, of course, and knows that God has called her to write. She may start with editing and/or publishing, because she's great at that too, and because it provides a more regular income at first, but eventually she will publish her own creations.

I've never imagined myself as a writer. Good with words? Yes. Strong voice in writing? Yes. Good story-teller? Sure. But writer? Writer-downer of those stories or ideas? That would be the afore-mentioned sister's department, thanks. I'll proof it for ya, though!

But I think that's changing.

When I was 11 or 12, I wrote my first full, finished story. I have it in a box somewhere, 5 double-sided pages of handwritten scrawl. I can't even remember the main character's name, but the story is complete.

Yesterday, my mom and I were talking about a new writers' group that's starting up at church. My mom gave me some feedback and vision, if you will, regarding my future and writing. Or more accurately, my future in writing. My writing future.

I'm not ready to share all of this yet {sorry, Victoria!}. This is where Bek turns into an introvert and needs to process things before she shares them. I may have to attend the writing group before I feel free to share more, and since that meets in another week, we'll just have to wait and see.


**linking up with Victoria. Join us!**

31 Days of Writing: Day Nine "A First"

Describe a "first" {first apartment, first kiss, first time driving a car, first lie, first big success, first roller coaster ride, first time in this setting}. Include as many details as possible, being sure to include an aspect relating to each of the five senses.

The class had been practicing for weeks, months even, and now it was showtime. We, the class of three-year-olds, were dropped backstage by our parents and ushered into a large room crowded with other classes. The smell of hairspray was thick in the air, and everyone's stomachs were tight with nerves.

My class was allowed to sit in front of a small television; some movie was playing, but it was hard to hear above the dull roar of hundreds of dancers nervously talking and laughing together. Every few minutes a stage mom would "SHHHHH!" us, but the volume always came back up again.

One by one, my classmates and I were pulled away from whatever movie we were attempting to watch and our hair and make-up was done. Every single hair on my head was pulled tightly back into a bun, and the hairspray was applied so liberally I'm sure a tornado would not displace a single strand.

Make-up was fun, except for the stage mom's coffee breath. A little too up close and personal, you know? But that was soon over, and I hardly recognized myself in the mirror. Some final touches of lipstick were applied, and then I was changed into my tutu. Gummy bears are bright colors, obviously, and so was my tutu: orange, red, and green layers covered my little bum, sticking out appropriately since Mom and I had carefully followed the directions to hang the tutu upside down.

Someone made sure my slippers were on tight {hairspray to secure the elastic-cold on my feet!} and I was directed to rejoin my class. And then, without warning, my whole class was being whisked away, off to the chaotic and confusing labyrinth of the backstage. Curtains hung from two stories up; principal dancers rushed from the stage to the wings and back onto the stage. My class was flanked by two "big girls" who were ready to guide us in our steps. We waited anxiously in the wings, preparing for our cue when suddenly my bladder caught my attention. Uh oh.

I tried to get the attention of the big girl in front of me. My arm reached, but I was too far back. I took a step closer, extending my arm once more.

"Get back in line!" hissed the big girl behind me.

I obeyed, but kept up my pursuit of the nice big girl in front of me. If I stood on my tip-toes, I could almost reach her....

The big girl behind me tapped my shoulder and shook her head at me. I gave up, defeated. And then I did what any reasonable three-year-old would do: I started to cry.

And cue the Gummy Bears.

I followed the girls in front of me onto the stage. I stood in the line and tried to follow the big girls' lead through my tears. Suddenly the face of my beloved teacher was next to me.

"What's wrong, sweetie?" Miss Shannon, my hero, asked kindly.

"I...have...have...to go to the bathroom!" I choked.

"Well, come with me! We'll get you to the bathroom." And she mercifully led me off stage, cheering me with the fact that I would get to use the restroom for the principal dancers, thereby qualifying it as a "special bathroom." So I stopped crying.

My parents picked me up after the performance, worried that I was not alright. But by then, I was. My need had been met, I got rescued by my favorite teacher, and I got to use the special bathroom. What more did you need for your first ballet performance?


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31 Days of Writing: Day Eight "Wild Card 2"

Samara and Pandora inspired this wild card prompt. Pandora plays ads that are more appropriate for when I created my account, when I was at school in Kentucky. And Samara said that she wants to visit Kentucky to attend the Derby, so here is my prompt: describe Samara and my future trip to see the horses run.

The plane has left the runway, and we are on our way! Our bags have been properly stowed above and beneath our seats, our seat-belts our fastened low and tight across our hips, and everyone sitting in the exit row is ready to save our lives in the event of an emergency. In just a few hours, we will be landing in the Bluegrass State, and then we are off to the races!

We purchased our tickets months ago, and then went to work on picking out our outfits. Because, hello, it's the Kentucky Derby and you need to have the right outfit.

Anyway, after our plane ride {during which we talked the. entire. time.}, we headed to our hotel to check in. Praise the Lord for Dad's hotel points - upgrade! Score for us.

Since our outfits have been decided for weeks, we are ready rather quickly. Off to the races!

The gate-people are quite nice, as the vast majority of Southerners are. We are directed to our seats, but decide to stop by the bar first. Two mint juleps, please and thank you. That's one for each of us, in case you were wondering.

Aha! An announcement is made- the first race is about to begin. We hurry to our seats, being careful not to spill our over-priced but well-worth-it beverages. Just in time, we make it to our seats, but there is not time for sitting. Races are only properly observed on one's feet.

After cheering for the several "warm up" races, we notice the stands have been filling up rapidly. It's almost Derby time!

Horses are announced and welcomed to the track via loudspeaker. Everyone is already on their feet, cheering as their favorite enters the track. Samara and I have picked different horses, of course- gotta throw some competition into the mix!

All the horses are lined up in their gates and all viewers hold their breath. The gun goes off. There is a mass of horseflesh racing in front of us. I look at Samara. Samara looks at me. In sync we cheer, "Come on, Dover! Move your blooming arse!" We erupt with laughter as the crowd roars. Neither of our favorites has won, but we are at the Kentucky Derby having the time of our lives.

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31 Days of Writing: Day Seven "Write a Poem"

Oops! I mixed up my days. Day Seven should have been "write an open letter to anyone" and Day Six was "write a poem" but we're just gonna reverse that order and call it good.

In the Kitchen


The space of comfort, the center of the home, the source of discomfort.

Cooking was never "my thing" as it was for friends or sisters.

There is nothing soothing about trying not to catch the house on fire.

Water boiling over, timers beeping angrily, surfaces hot and ready to burn...

these are not my ideas of a good time.


Give me one item at a time.

Let me focus on cooking the pasta.

Give me some bread to slice.

Let me make some crack popcorn with its two ingredients.

But slowly the kitchen is becoming more fun, more safe for me.

Chicken can be cooked longer than five minutes.

French fries are still edible after the timer has gone off {or been forgotten}.

And when all else fails, the pizza delivery man never fails to bring a smile.


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31 Days of Writing: Day Six “Open Letter”

Write an open letter to anyone.
Dear Cute Couples,

I’m happy for you, I really am. You guys are in the beginnings and middles of your stories together, and it’s so cool to watch how God orchestrates things.

My story with someone hasn’t begun yet. Most of the time I’m ok with that. I’d rather be single than in relationship with someone who is not my someone. But some days, like today when you Cute Couples sit in church around me on every side, it’s hard not to wish for my someone to show up… like, yesterday.

However, you Cute Couples remind me that there are things worth waiting for. You remind me that when relationships start at the right time, in the right way, with the right person, there really is a holiness and wonder in being an us. And that makes me excited, both to wait for and to meet someone. So I guess what I’m trying to say is this: thanks for being a Cute Couple.

Bek

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***Update 10-7-13: it was brought to my attention that this is a potentially awkward topic {gee, Bek, why didn't you think of that? Because it was 11:30pm when I wrote this...sigh} and that some people might react in ways that I did not intend.

My heart in this open letter is to let you know that sometimes it's hard to be single when you're seemingly surrounded by Cute Couples. I think almost everyone would agree with me that at some point in their single life, they sighed and threw up their hands and said "woe is me!" I raised my hand just now. But I don't want to stay in the "woe is me" stage, and the Cute Couples around me help build my anticipation for my someone as much as they frustrate my singleness.

The point of this letter is this: right now I'm a unicycle in a bicycle world, and I'm doing fine. Cute Couples, please don't feel weird or conspicuous around me. I love you dearly, and I'm happy to be a part of your story. Single friends, let's not mope around in our unicycle season. Being a unicycle is fun and challenging, but so is being a bicycle. Let's enjoy the season we're in and not try to take over the bike shop.

31 Days of Writing: Day Five “Movie Theater”

“You’re at the movie theater and it’s the climax of the summer’s big blockbuster hit. And someone is talking on their cell phone. When you go to confront them, you find that it is your boss. What do you say to them?”

oh. my. gosh. Not again. Seriously, the last time I was at the movies, this lady was texting next to me throughout the whooooole movie. And now this guy a couple rows down is yapping it up?

Usually I’m a quiet person. I don’t like confrontation; in fact, I avoid it. But today…today some crazy lady in my head took over and I found myself sliding past my fellow movie-watchers and slinking down the aisle. Watch out, buddy, I thought to myself,  you just opened a can of crazy.

I’m about to let the crazy out of the can and tap the guy on the shoulder when he turns his head just enough to let me see who it is. Oh snap. Against my will, my hand touches Matt’s shoulder. I wish I could cut off my hand, or that I could run out of the theater. Or an earthquake would happen. That would have been great. But no. That would have been too easy.

Mid-sentence, Matt turns to me. His face registers confusion, surprise, and finally recognition. My mind races as I stuff the crazy back into the can and wonder how on earth I can get out of this pickle.

“Hey, Matt, I was just wondering if you had next week’s shift schedule yet.”

Matt whispers “Hang on,” to whoever is partaking in the phone conversation. “Julie, I don’t think this is a good time to talk about that.”

“That’s my point. This is not a good time, or place, rather, to be having a conversation, period.” I smile, pointing at the big screen, and head back to my seat.

When I settle back into watching the movie, I see Matt put his cell phone away.

 

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31 Days of Writing: Day Four "Wild Card"

Since I get to make up my own prompt today, I thought I would share last night's adventures. Be forewarned: the subject of this adventure is a toilet.

The Little Toilet That Dripped

When Bek moved out to her Very Own Grown-Up Home, she felt very grown up indeed.

Change a light bulb? It only takes one Bek to change a light bulb.

Replace the smoke detector and batteries? Stand clear.

Buy a broom? Stick that sucker in the closet.

Re-seal the grout in the showers? Watch out.

Fix the toilet that drips? Um....Dad!

So Bek's dad kindly showed her the ways of the toilet, and just when the water was ready to be turned on, there was a CRACK from the toilet and a "CRAP!" from her dad.

A washer was weak; Dad was strong; the toilet was torn between the two. And so it cracked in three directions.

Bek and Dad made a phone call and a new toilet is on its way. Little Toilet That Drips, it's been real and it's been fun, but it ain't been real fun.

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31 Days of Writing: Day Three "An ode to an article of clothing"

Berea College sweatshirt, how do I love thee? Shall I count the ways?

Your acquisition was an adventure a year ago this day:

As the school climbed the Pinnacle to celebrate the "mountains."

I had to answer a question and in return won you into my possession.

Your warmth I embraced after the sun had set,

and even when some girl in the dorm almost stole you from my grasp,

I did not believe that your would be a one-time hug.



Our love is strong, as is your fabric.

Our love is warm, like the fuzziness that covers your interior.

Our love is clean, like how I keep you {by not taking you to Family Camp}.

Our love is deep, like your front pocket.

Our love is secure, like your place in my closet.

Our love is long, like the history of the College.

O, Berea College sweatshirt, how I do love thee!


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31 Days of Writing: Day Two "My earliest memory"

My two earliest memories both involve hospitals. Perhaps that is why I am so traumatized by them now.

The first memory is not unpleasant. I was not yet two, and Mom had to go to the hospital so that *surprise!* my sister could be born. {I tease my sister now that her birth ruined my life as an only child... which is true. My life as an only child ceased to exist, but my sister definitely is worth it.}

After J was born, my grandparents brought me to the hospital to meet her. Exciting! Apparently I was learning human anatomy at this point in my life, because instead of ooh-ing and aww-ing over my first sibling, I pointed to her face and said "nose." And repeat about forty times. One track mind.

My family has a picture of my grandparents holding the swaddled baby J...and I'm standing on the couch pointing in her face. Totes presh.

My second memory is quite horrifying, actually. This memory is more like an out-of-body memory, probably because the PTSD doesn't allow me to relive those moments.

My cousins were visiting; our parents were on the back porch drinking iced tea and the kids were playing in the toy room. I distinctly remember sitting on one of those scooters for toddlers, and then I was standing on the bed looking out the window at the adults. Then my mind's eye removes itself and I watch myself jump on the bed a couple times, lose my balance, and fall backwards into the mirrors on our closet doors.

I only know what happened next through my parents' retelling and through the scars on my body. The mirror broke on top of me and almost cut off my nose. My parents rushed me to the hospital where the nurses could not tell who was injured because of all the blood. I was wrapped in a sheet so I couldn't fight the doctors and they stitched me up.

I have a scar around my nose and three scars on my left hand from this little adventure. Oh, and I also have an inexplicable dislike of hospitals.

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