Writer Know Thyself – Bad Habits

Do you have a bad habit that affects everyday life?

Most of my bad habits are related to my self-esteem. My biggest bad habit that most affect my life and the lives around me would be the way I over think the way people say things around me. A simple comment leads into me wondering why it was said, did they mean it that way, or did they really mean something else. And really most of it lies in something someone wise once told me a long time back. Inside every comment, no matter how innocently said, lies a grain of truth.

How would life change if you overcame that habit?

I would imagine that I would be more relaxed about life as would those around me. But I also believe that over thinking comments is what makes me a better writer. If I can think of all the what ifs in life, then it should be able to color my stories more.

What steps would you need to take?

I believe it would take lots of time and treating myself like one of Pavlov’s dogs. When dealing with one’s psyche this way so much is ingrained that changes cannot be made by just deciding suddenly to not do so.

What would make you finally decide to change?

Frankly, someone other than myself would have to be hurt by it. I feel too much like I’m maintaining status quo that upsetting the balance, would affect too much other stuff.

Does your main character need to overcome a bad habit?

All this talk of bad habits has made me realize that she doesn’t have one. Perhaps she’s a little too perfect. Maybe she needs a bad habit to make her more believable. She needs something that will make the readers hurt for her and cheer her on to get over.

At least this exercise has given me something to work on.


This blog post curtsey of The Writer Magazine November/December issue Writing Prompt

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And That’s Why We All Ate Hamburgers This Thanksgiving

Before I start this I just want to say for the record, our family dynamics state that I have never and probably will never host a Thanksgiving dinner. That being said, offer a thank you to Writer’s Digest for their little creative writing prompt and…. here we go:


For my first Thanksgiving as host, I bought the biggest turkey they had in the store,

I wanted the holiday to be the best. Who wouldn’t? The turkey had to be the biggest. There had to be all the traditional holiday staples. Everything had to be neat and proper. The napkins ironed, the tablecloth neatly pressed.

I looked over the spread on the table and decided that while she may not be proud, Martha Stewart would be okay with it. The turkey was gorgeous on the table. I called the family in and stood back and watched. Everyone was properly trained and oohed and aahed at all the right items. I nearly giggled as the thought of desert. I gestured for my husband to take the seat of honor (or dishonor) in front of the turkey.

Nobody liked carving the turkey and he shot me a glare as he took the seat. He didn’t say a word but began to robotically carve slice after slice from the great bird. There was a hum to the room as everyone struck up their own conversations.

No one really noticed anything was going to go wrong until it actually happened. There had been no clues. No one had been angry. No one had admitted to not being anything but the best of friends that holiday. Really, that in itself should have been the only clue needed.

We all stared in surprise as a large glob of the beautiful mashed potatoes appeared on Jessica’s face. I was mortified but nobody had eyes for anyone besides Jessica. Her eyes narrowed as she stared down Ronald in front of her.

“How dare you,” she hissed, not even realizing that he wasn’t anywhere near the bowl of mashed potatoes. Nobody moved and could only watch as the cranberry sauce went flying. As the red slime slid down the undeserving, it was taken as a sign by the others.

I cried as I saw all my perfect dishes upset and used as projectiles. Before long there was ham hanging from the chandelier, there was stuffing in the sconces on the wall, there were streaks of yellow where the macaroni and cheese had slid down the wall only to land on the floor. Each and every person that had once been seated around the table were either standing reloading projectiles or cowering behind the chairs.

I myself found myself with turkey for a hat and a smug husband sitting behind the turkey carcass.

Eventually little Anna Bell at the foot of the table snorted in laughter. One by one everyone laughed at the absurdity of the whole evening. It would definitely be one for the photo albums, which dear Allen was quickly making sure of with his ever handy blasted camera.

And that’s why we all ate hamburgers.


Visit: http://www.writersdigest.com/prompts/and-thats-why-we-all-ate-hamburgers-this-thanksgiving to see the prompt and try it yourself if you like.

Wordle 82–The Sunday Whirl

It’s not Sunday, but better late than never. It’s still my first foray into poetry in probably 15 years. Be kind. Smile Any title recommendations?

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Birds flying; Deer Leaping
Brook forward ever creeping
Life in the hollow never ceasing
New life and old ever cycling

Wood piled high and deep
Beavers the river do keep
Although rocky and sometimes dry
Peaceful and patient they try

At the edges stand the walls
Standing sentry, trees stand tall
Phantoms and ghosts travel round
Keeping trespassers to the ground