Posted in Blogging 101, Challenges, Writing

Should Have Called Ahead

“I’m telling you Emma, it doesn’t look as if anyone works here. It probably went out of business when my grandfather died.” Carrianne went behind the desk and started looking through some papers. “There doesn’t seem to be any guests booked in at all for the last year.”

“That’s because you’re looking at the wrong books. Everything is on computer now.” A brown-haired girl pulled out the top drawer of the desk, revealing a laptop. “And why are you going through the paperwork? Normally people call ahead if they want to stay here.”

“Well, this wasn’t really planned and I didn’t have the number. Mum just told me to come here and speak with the council.” Carrianne said with a shrug. “Besides, I was told that I inherited the Flowering Rose from my grandfather. I thought that it had gone out of business since I had no idea it existed until now.”

“It didn’t go out of business. We took care of it since you were too busy.” The brunette shook her head. “Goddess, you think you are so much better than us don’t you? Why are you even here? We don’t need you. The Rose got on fine without you.”

“What are you talking about? I didn’t even know about this place until Mom got sick. She told me that my grandfather gave me the Flowering Rose in his will. I thought that I should at least come and check the place out.”

“Oh please, you and your mom think you’re too good for Winterwood. You come here to get what you want and leave as soon as it gets tough. You own the Rose but you’ve never done anything for it. You never even come to visit. So why are you here now?”

“I told you. I didn’t know about the Flowering Rose until Mom got sick.” Carrianne enunciated each word to a painful degree. “If it was up to me, I would sell it to someone who would take care of it. But I have no control over who owns it right now.”

The girl shook her head. “Yeah right, tell me another tale while you’re at it. You own the place. You have all the control.”

“The deed is in trust with the council. I need to meet with them before I get control. And Mom warned me that I may need to complete some other things as well before they will give me the deed.” Carrianne folded her arms and leaned against the desk. “I wish I had control but I don’t. So, do you mind telling me who you are and if there is a free room my friend and I can stay in while we get this sorted?”

“I’m Marny and I don’t think there are any rooms. You should have called ahead like everyone else.”




Blogging 101 asked us to make a prompt our own. The prompt I chose was today’s writing prompt from The Daily Post: “Shoulda Woulda Coulda.”

Posted in A.P. Roberts, Challenges, Writing 101

Writing 101: 20 Minute Free Write

This post was written in response to Writing 101: Unlock the Mind.


Today marks the first day of Writing 101. While I am excited to start this adventure in writing I am also very anxious about how it will turn out. I’m worried that I’ll give up half way through (or in the next day or two) or that I’ll produce horrible pieces of writing.  I’m nervous about what some of the prompts and twists will be. I’m terrified that someone I know will read what I write and judge me based on how bad it is.

Of course, being a person who has be diagnosed with anxiety, these fears are not new to me. I’ve debated in the past about joining the Daily Post’s Blogging U. However, as many times as I’ve debated joining Blogging U, this is my first time registering.

Over the last year I’ve allowed my anxiety to get between me and my writing. I’ve gone from writing every day to once a week or less. At one point I hadn’t written anything in several months.

I’m not sure why I allowed my anxiety to get as bad as it did. In my mind I know the different tricks to calming anxiety. There is mindfulness of breath, the freeze method, self-hypnosis, isolated relaxation, and more that I can’t think to name at this moment.

But there is a difference between knowing something and using it. People can know first aid but if an emergency occurs they may not be able to use it. There are many students who know the course work but fail the exams.

So, I suppose it’s not that strange for me to know how to calm my anxiety but not be able to do so.

The best I can hope for is to attempt each prompt for Writing 101. I may not post all the pieces I write but, despite my anxiety trying to stop me, I will write something for each prompt. And perhaps I will walk away from Writing 101 with a new daily writing habit.

What about you? Have you joined Writing 101 or Blogging 101? What are your hopes and fears for the course?

Posted in A.P. Roberts, For the Promptless, Post a Day/Week

Cryptozoology: Tuatha de Danann

This week’s Prompt for the Promptless is Cryptozoology.


Cryptozoology is the search for legendary creatures whether to prove or disprove their existence.

I grew up hearing stories of the Tuatha de Danann. Stories that wove them into myths and legends that may not have originally been linked with them.

For those who have never heard of the Tuatha de, I will attempt to explain. They are Irish and their name means “Danu’s People” or “Danu’s Tribe”.

It is said that the Tuatha de have the stance and grace of the gods. They are descendents of Nemed. The Tuatha de arrived in Ireland by riding a black cloud which blocked out the sun for three days.

The Tuatha de had four treasures which they brought to Ireland but which were lost. My favourite of the four treasures is the Spear of Lugh though my reason for it being my favourite is because it was in Alison Baird’s books.

When I think of magical beings, I think Tuatha de. I think towering majesty and terrifying beauty.

If I could prove the existence of any magical being, I would want it to be the Tuatha de. It would be absolutely terrifying but amazingly wonderful as well.

Posted in On Writing, Post a Day/Week

Writing on a Schedule

English: Gentaur schedule
(Photo credit: Wikipedia)

There are two groups of writers; those who write on a schedule and those who write when inspiration hits. While I am in the group that writes when inspiration hits, I want to be in the group that writes on a schedule.

The first reason for wanting a schedule is that I feel it would help me get into my writer mindset. A schedule would make me write rather than me saying “I can write later”. I would be able to train my brain that at a certain time I start writing and I don’t stop until the time limit is reached.

The second reason is that I want to have a divide between my writing and life. At the moment my life has no schedule because Sweety and I are both off work for health reasons. Because of this lack of schedule I’ve been attempting to write while spending time with Sweety. It has gotten to the point where I am interrupted every time I open up my computer to start writing. With a schedule I can let people know that for this time period I am writing and don’t want distractions.

My last reason for wanting a schedule is so that I can give myself deadlines. I can say that I want to write a certain number of scenes in each time period or that I want to use one of the time periods to edit a story. By setting deadlines I can measure my writing goals and try to improve my output.

Do you find yourself writing on a schedule or do you write when inspiration hits? Do you prefer one method over the other?

Posted in On Writing, Post a Day/Week

Music To My Muse

If you go on any writing forum you will find writer’s sharing the playlists they’ve made to help with their writing. There are multiple threads on the NaNo site devoted to writing playlists. Writers share the music they listen to when writing action scenes or romantic encounters. They share songs that help them get in the mind of their characters.

It is such a common occurrence that it seems like music and writing go hand in hand. If you write you should be listening to music.

Unfortunately, not everyone can listen to music and write at the same time. Some people prefer absolute silence when they’re writing while others need that background noise.

I admit that I cannot write to music. I need silence when I write or else I will write in what I’m listening to. If someone talks to me or starts playing music when I’m writing, it will end up in my story. Most of the time it doesn’t even make sense but it ends up there anyway. I could be writing about WWIII and end up with a scene about unicorns because someone started playing The Irish Rovers.

Because of my lack of skill in multitasking, I am unable to write with music. Sometimes I feel like I’m missing out by writing to silence but then I think of how strange the stories would be if I did write them to music.

What about you? Do you find that music influences your writing? Is the influence mild or do you find yourself writing the lyrics instead of your story?

If you do write with music then check out these threads over on the NaNo site:

**Please note that these links are only good until the 2013 relaunch of the NaNo site.
Posted in Post a Day/Week, Writing

Home Sweet Home


I hear the Island calling me
Though I'm far away
I dream of it at night
My cradle in the waves

Sand beneath my feet
Salt spray upon my face
When I see those red tinged cliffs
I know I've found my place

With calls of "Hey der buddy
Hows it goin? Where've ya bin?"
Feels like I've never left
Though it's been ages since I've been
Home sweet home
Posted in Post a Day/Week, Writing

The Fairy’s Cure

A fairy tale that I started writing for last week’s Prompt for the Promptless. It was a 30-5 Challenge and was written in 30 minutes.


Once magic was wild and free. Depending on magic’s mood, rain could change into food or lava. The days could end up being bright with life or dark with despair.

Magic seemed to bless different creatures by giving them powers. Fairies were given the power of light and childlike wonder. Dragons were given wisdom and strength. Gnomes were given control over plants and water.

The people thought they would be blessed if they followed magic’s whims. But, try as they may, magic never seemed to bless the people with more power.

Ages went by with the people watching magic bless other creatures. The people began to crave the power that magic was giving away. Some tried to harness magic’s power and use it for themselves. But magic was too strong for them and the power consumed their bodies.

Many died in this quest for power but still the people tried.

Eventually someone had the idea to weaken magic. If magic’s power was weakened, then it would be easier to obtain.

A disease was created in the hope that it would attack magic. But it didn’t work the way they had planned. The disease attacked people and weakened them.

Confused, the creators of the disease worked furiously to create a cure. One attempt after another was made but the disease only grew stronger.

The people cried out for a hero; someone to save them from their mistake. But no one stepped forward.

Years went by with each generation growing weaker than the last. Parents were living longer than their children. Grandparents were raising grandchildren who rarely lived past their childhood.

Eventually, when the people had given up on their fate, a fairy appeared in the village. The fairy, at half the size of a small child, seemed to glow with an inner light that made grown men cower.

The fairy laughed as she danced through the streets gathering the people. “Don’t be afraid. I’m here to help you. Follow me and I’ll teach you the secret of a long life.”

The people of the village followed the fairy, attracted by her light and the promise of a cure. When everyone was gathered in one area, the fairy began her story.

“People were created by magic. Every person has a piece of magic inside of them. When you try to steal magic that does not belong to you, then everyone suffers.” The fairy looked around. People were standing with their arms crossed and faces turned toward the ground. “When you try to make your light shine brightest then you end up dimming it instead.”

The adults of the village scoffed and dismissed the fairy. One by one the adults wandered away but the children stood in awe of what the fairy was telling them.

“When people tried to steal magic’s power, you destroyed your own magic.” The fairy pointed at the adults who were leaving. “It is too late for them but it may not be too late for you.”

The fairy stepped toward the children and sat down among them. She gestured for them to join her on the ground. “I am going to tell you how to get rid of the disease that is plaguing your people. I need you to listen closely to what I say.”

The children nodded and silently moved closer.

“You need to stop being selfish. Your light grows brighter the more you help others.” The fairy opened her hands in front of her with each palm holding a small flame. “You all have a light inside of you that is like the flames I hold. When you think only of yourself and your own power, the flame grows smaller and you grow weaker. This is what you call the disease.”

The flame in the fairy’s left hand slowly grew smaller and the children gasped in fear.

“If you help others in need then your light will grow.” The flame in the fairy’s right hand grew to twice its size. “The more you help others; the more your light grows.”

A small child, no older than four, crawled closer to the fairy. “How does you help him?”

The fairy smiled and her eyes lit up with hope. “You can help others by being nice. If someone has trouble with their chores, you can offer to help them to finish what is left. If your mother feels sick, you can clean the house or make the food. If your father is hurt, you can feed the animals or tend the crops.”

“Why are you telling us this?” asked an older girl who had her arms crossed in front of her chest. “It’s not like it will fix us.”

The fairy laughed. “It won’t fix you but it will keep you from getting sick. I’m here because magic sent me. We’ve seen the plight of people and we want to help.”

“Mom says that the disease was sent by magic because we were close to destroying it and taking its power. If we can get magic’s power then the disease will disappear.” The girl reached over and tugged on the arm of a younger girl who was sitting beside her. “We need to go Carol. Mom will be mad if we’re late.”

“But I want to stay with the fairy.” The younger girl pulled back away from her sister.

“It’s alright child,” the fairy said. “You have heard enough to help. As for your sister’s question, the disease was not sent by magic but was created by people. It was made to weaken magic but those who created it did not know that people were made of magic. This is why the disease attacks people. This is also why you must strengthen your magic to overcome the disease.”

The fairy looked around at the children. The older children looked sceptical and the younger children looked hopeful. “I will not keep you much longer but I will leave you with this knowledge. When you help others you will feel the warmth of your flame growing. The more your flame grows, the more people will try to stop you. People want to extinguish your magic; they will tell you that there is no need to help others. They will try to stop you. You must not let them extinguish your flame.”

The fairy disappeared before the children could ask more questions. Slowly, they wandered off back home; each of them lost in their thoughts of the fairy.

At first life in the village remained the same but soon it was obvious that the children were acting different.  They were helping each other with chores and doing more around the house.

The more the children helped others, the older they were before they grew sick with the disease. Some of them were able to avoid getting sick at all.

The next generation learned from the fairy’s children and grew to an age older than their parents. The generations that followed grew much older than the generations before.

Soon, the disease itself was a distant memory but everyone knew the story of the Fairy’s Cure.

Posted in For the Promptless, On Writing, Post a Day/Week

Monomyth: The Plot Line of Life


For this week’s Prompt for the Promptless I wasn’t sure what to write. At first I was thinking about writing a fairy tale or myth. I even wrote up a nice little fairy tale that went so far off the mark that I don’t feel comfortable posting it for this prompt.

Monomyth: Also known as the Hero’s Journey is a concept coined by Joseph Campbell. The monomyth argues that every story follows the same basic plot line.

English: This image outlines the basic path of...
“Hero’s Journey”. (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

I’m not going to argue the concept of the Monomyth because I do believe that the majority of plots follow the same idea.

  • Something happens
  • A hero, who is usually reluctant, accepts the challenge of fixing the problem
  • Along the way, more things happen
  • The hero, who may have help, deals with the conflicts
  • The hero comes across the biggest challenge and has some trouble overcoming it
  • The hero eventually triumphs over the challenge and is usually awarded something (treasure, king’s daughter in marriage, the sacred sword of Swinter)
  • The hero returns home (and often faces challenges along the way)

Does this plot line seem familiar? It should because most stories will fit into this plot line. In fact, life seems to fit well into the monomyth plot line as well.

Life is all about conflict and challenges. It is about overcoming these obstacles just like the hero in the monomyth. And, as most writers take inspiration from life, a lot of stories have the monomyth plot line.

Would it surprise you to know that The Hobbit and Lord of the Rings by J.R.R. Tolkien follow this base plot line? What about Harry Potter by J.K. Rowling? Criminal Minds and Castle follow this base plot as well.

Can you think of any stories that follow the monomyth? How can you make the Monomyth better? Does your life follow the monomyth?


Before you go check out the other blogs that responded to the call of the Promptless:

Journey Called Life – Just a Regular Savior

One Starving Activist – Conversion

Mama Bear Musings – Monomyth

This Typing Makes Me Look Busy – The Adventures of Wrendolyn

Serendipity – The Cardinal and the Cat

Blog of the Imaginator – Delusions of Grandeur

Posted in Post a Day/Week, Writing

Different Languages

Innis Seun 2“So, what you are telling me is that the girls where you are from speak very differently than we speak here?” Sheehan looked at Barbara with a confused expression on her face.

Barbara nodded. “Yes, they speak a lot different from here. They still speak English… or Innis as you call it here, however with the way they speak, it is almost as if they are speaking a different language.”

“They speak Innis while speaking a different language? So they speak two languages?” Sheehan picked up her left hand and tucked a piece of hair behind her ear.

“No, they speak one language but they way they speak it sounds as if they are speaking a different language.” Barbara shook her head and her hair waved back and forth along her back.

Sheehan stopped walking for a moment and just looked at Barbara.

Barbara rolled her eyes and reached out to give Sheehan’s arm a tug to get Sheehan moving again. “The way they speak it sounds as if they are speaking a different language when they are not actually speaking a different language.”

“Well, could you give an example?”

Barbara seemed to think for a moment. “Well, like, they like talk like this and they say like whatever and like oh my god and like things like that.”

“What does that mean?”

Barbara laughed. “I did say it was almost as if they spoke another language. I much prefer how people speak here. At least everyone says what they mean.”

“Everyone does not say what they mean.”

“Well, they mean what they say. And that is the same thing.”

“That is the same as saying I breathe when I sleep is the same as I sleep when I breathe. The sentences have different meanings.”

“Are you quoting Alice in Wonderland?” Barbara said with a light laugh.

Posted in Writing

The General

Jeremiah's StoryHe leaned back in his chair and took a long drink from the cup in his hand. A quick glance at the clock told him that it was almost noon. Taking another long drink, the stern looking red-head looked at the door.

The man, who was dressed in a crisp white shirt and beige trousers, didn’t have to wait long until footsteps were heard coming from the hallway on the other side of the door. Soon after he heard footsteps, there came a knock at the door.

The doorknob turned and his manservant entered before the knock could be answered.

“Pardon me, but the general of Division 24 is requesting to speak with you. He is insisting that the matter cannot wait until after dinner.”

‘Why can’t anything wait until after I have eaten? Though, it has been a few days since I have driven fear into my armies.’ “Let him in. I could use the entertainment.”

“As you wish.”

The man turned his back to the door as his manservant left the room. Within minutes, a man dressed in full military uniform stood silently behind the chair.

‘At least this buffoon isn’t fool enough to speak before being spoken to.’


‘Or maybe he is. Pity, this general could have gone far. Too bad he couldn’t keep his mouth closed.’

“I am terribly sorry to intrude upon you.”

‘No you aren’t but you will be shortly.’

“However, there has been a breach in security. Section 13 of Division 11 has been compromised. They are using renegade tactics to hold off the rest of the Division.”

‘And a snitch as well? Telling of a security breach in a different Division? Let Division 11 handle it or go in and take control yourself.’

“I am requesting permission to send troops into Division 11 to aid their general.”

The emperor slowly turned his chair to face the general who was looking worried. After several minutes of silence, he spoke. “I don’t believe you do. If you truly wished to aid Division 11 you would have gone there rather than coming here to ask for permission.”

“Protocol dictates that permission be granted before troops are allowed to leave their Division.”

A slow nod greeted the general’s statement. “True, permission must be granted by the Division’s general. I will have to find one to give Division 24’s troops permission to aid Division 11.”

Sweat began to gather on the general’s face. “Sir?”

The emperor rang the bell which sat on a small table by his chair. The door opened, letting in the manservant. “Bradford, please send this  pathetic excuse for a man to the arena for the next war game. And, while you’re there, make sure he is placed in the same housing area as the renegades he helped to catch.”

“As you wish.” Bradford placed a hand on the former general’s shoulder and led him from the room.