valentine nuttiness

Happy Valentine’s Day, inklings.

I say that a bit tongue-in-cheek. The husband and I do cards and sort-of flowers: He brings them home, gives them to me, and then they live in the bathroom behind closed doors because Pippin thinks they’re her salad. Some years we go out on a Valentine’s date, but it doesn’t always work out. Especially since there’s now a kiddo involved. 😉

Me, I can’t quite get past the origins of Valentine’s Day, which have nothing to do with romance and everything to do with death. Even so, I still like to have fun with it. So, in the spirit of that, here are some of my poetic Valentine’s Day tweets from this morning. Just goofy stuff, but I hope they give you a chuckle. Some feature favorite movie and TV characters!

Courtney’s Twitter-Ode to Romance

Roses are red
Violets aren’t blue
I think you’re cute
Here, have a gnu

Roses are red
Cat noses pink
Cats don’t care about
Valentines, I think

Roses in bed
Breakfast in vases
Makes for the very
Oddest of cases

Roses blood-red
Spiders can bite
Here’s to delicious
Halloween frights

Wait, what?

Noses are red
Fingers are cold
This winter weather
Is getting so old

Except here in Oklahoma, where we’re having spring temps

Roses are red
Violets are blue
Just like your fingers
I chopped up for stew

Roses are red
Star Wars is cool
Scrappy young Rey
Ain’t nobody’s fool

Roses are red
Star Trek is neat
Riker likes Troi
So he turns on the heat

Roses are red
Thor wants “ANOTHER!”
Gets dirty looks
From Loki, his brother

Except SPOILER ALERT Loki is actually a frost giant

Roses are red
Dean loves him some pie
Winchesters go hunting
And monsters will die

[Dean randomly dies in the shower again]

Roses are red
USA has no luck
#Election2016
Already sucks

Roses are red
#amwriting is fun
But I need time away
Out in the sun

preferably in Maui

Roses are red
My final decision:
Netflix has ruined me
For normal television

TAH-DAH. 😉

If you enjoyed that and want more, I got really into the characters part of it all and wrote a Valentine Ode to Villains. Since Valentine’s Day has upon it the stain of death and evil and whatnot. 😉

Three-sentence horror romance: BEGINNING

BEGINNING

by Courtney Cantrell

After my funeral, I crossed nearly two continents and an ocean to get to her.

I watched through the window as she slid out of her bra and panties, the first time I’d ever glimpsed those beautiful curves glorious and naked.

When I rapped on the pane, she rushed to let me in as though understanding that our long, agonizing wait had ended and we could finally be together…in spite of my fangs…or because of them.

THE END

Three-sentence romance story: TRIANGLE

Lo and behold, I’ve actually written a three-sentence story that isn’t horror. I told you I would! : )
 

TRIANGLE

by Courtney Cantrell

I begged her to tell George about me, but she refused.

When I left to tell George myself, she laughed and said that women like her never sleep alone.

George and I meet for coffee every Monday, but her bed is still empty.

 

–inspired by Nickel Creek’s “Helena”

For more three-sentence fiction, click here.

Writing Resource: First Lines #NaNoWriMo

Hile, my lovelies!

Today, with the pleasure of a thousand sheikhs bathed in chocolate, I bring you a creative writing exercise resource THING. As you might have noticed, of late I’ve become a regular reader of Chuck Wendig’s blog terribleminds. One of my favorites of his columns is his weekly, Fridayly (Fridaily?) flash fiction challenge. He posts a new one every week, and each one is a frolicking romp of a creative writing challenge, and it’s all muy inspiring and so forth and whatnot.

1stThe current challenge is to write an opening line (15 words max), which other writers will then use to craft a tale for next week’s challenge. Me, I’ve officially hied myself to the comments section of said current challenge and posted the following as my opening line:

“I can see why you don’t have any friends,” said the poltergeist.

After I posted this to Wendig’s blog, I thought that I should probably post it to mine own.

And after I thought I should post it to mine own, I thought that I should also post a few other opening lines just for fun.

And after I thought that I should post other opening lines for fun, I thought I should invite you all to use these lines as you see fit: either as inspiration for other opening lines, or as inspiration for stories, or as inspiration for poetry, or as inspiration for a collection of fictional tweets from the bathroom. It’s up to you.

At any rate, please to be finding below a list of first lines (some longer than 15 words). You have my permission to use them as thou wilt. If you get rich and famous off the resulting stories, though, do be kind enough to drop my name to the press, won’t you? Thanks.

Creative Writing Resource: Opening Lines (Free!)

The humans slept.

The book fell open to a well-read page, and what she saw there made her heart race.

After dinner, he took the guests’ tongues one by one.

He always knew some small thing would bring his destruction, but he’d never suspected a bobby pin.

“Ow, my elbow joint! Hand me that oil can, willya?”

The whispers wouldn’t stop.

Maybe nobody would think to look for her under the bubbles.

In the nineteenth year of Goriakin Warhound’s reign, the owl people came down out of the mountains.

“Try again.”

She stared out over the rim of her glass, still tasting the poison on her lips, and wondered which of her brothers had tried to kill her.

Look. I was just doing what I had to. Everybody knows the only good crilli is a dead crilli.

It wasn’t until he was ten that he realized he was the only one who could see the blood.

“Don’t you effing dare hang up on me! I have exactly three more points on my li–”

In a certain light, the back of the door looked pink.

The storm refused to break until the fever did.

The house was an adorable combo of Victorian frill and oversized 1980s slouch, and he was sure that it was trying to kill him.

I like music that tells a story. What was happening onstage was more like a tech manual for vacuum cleaner assembly.

“My goodness, get in here. What have you done to yourself? Your hair looks like a mullet.”

Years later, they would reassure each other that she deserved it.

When the priest levitated over the altar and up past the crucifix, Mrs. Denby finally bolted from the front row and ran shrieking down the nave.

He glanced at it just in time to see it move.

___________________

Annnnnnd that’s a wrap. Share your thoughts, inspirations, stories, world domination schemes, and whatnots in the comments!

Childhood Memory: Galaxy Express 999

Sometime during the last six months, I read a post about childhood memories on someone’s blog, somewhere out there in the blogosphere. I don’t remember the details. All I remember is that the blogger described revisiting a favorite something from childhood and being pleasantly surprised that reality lived up to the memory. The post inspired me to leave the following comment, which I preserved for blogging here:

Galaxy Express 999

My memory is an animated movie about a boy traveling through space on a locomotive. He’s trying to get to a planet where they give humans cyborg bodies. On the way, he has lots of adventures, including a run-in with something called a “Medusa Cloud.” I must’ve been 8 or 9 when I saw the movie, and it has always stuck with me in magical bits and pieces. I’m afraid that if I tried to watch it again nearly 30 years later, the magic would disappear.

I should perhaps add that I’ve been in love with my memory of this movie ever since I saw it. In the Medusa Cloud scene, the boy meets a young man who’s defending the statue of a girl against thieves. Turns out that the Medusa Cloud passes through the skies of planets and turns all the inhabitants to stone. The thieves come to this particular planet and steal the petrified forms of people in order to sell them to collectors. The young man who’s fighting them is actually protecting the petrified form of his wife.

That’s how I remember it, anyway. I remember thinking it was beautifully tragic and romantic. It probably played a great role in forming my personal concept of romance and is likely the reason I’m a sucker for good ol’ “Boy Rescues Girl” romantic drivel. ; )

galaxyexpress999I’ve never seen the movie again, and I’m not sure I ever want to see it again. I’m just afraid that viewing it with adult (and, let’s admit it, somewhat jaded) eyes would shatter the beauty, the romance, the thrill. The magic. I don’t want to lose the magic. Magic is hard enough to hold on to as it is; it doesn’t need me to go digging up the past so as to examine it in critical detail.

Yes, part of me is Peter Pan and always will be. : )

Do you remember Galaxy Express 999?

What’s a favorite childhood memory you’re reluctant to revisit in case it got ruined?

Men and Romance

Mama: Did you get much work done today?

Me: I wrote more than a thousand words on Elevator People.

Mama: Oh, good! Progress! (she said, knowing this to be something to celebrate)

Me: Yeah. But my main character is going off on a tangent.

Mama: How so?

Me: Well, there are suddenly all these romantic meanderings.

Mama: This is the sci-fi story, right?

Me: Yeah.

Mama: Romantic meanderings. Male main character?

Me: Yeah.

Mama (nodding): Men will do that. You have your work cut out for you.

(NOTE: I post this with only the greatest affection in my heart for my male readership. Bring on the romance, gentlemen.) : )

darkromance

Free Sci-Fi Romance Short Story Excerpt!

Hile, inklings! Today I’m providing you with what I hope will be a treat. As you might recall, I recently had a short story published in the latest installment of the e-mag A Consortium of Worlds, #3.

“The One Where Jack Loses” is not-so-happy romantic sci-fi with themes like the nature of Reality, the nature of Time, and the nature of Individual Choice.

The treat is that I’m publishing an excerpt from said story below, just for your reading pleasure. I hope you enjoy. : )

“The One Where Jack Loses”

A Grace and Jack Story

by Courtney Cantrell

Untitled

The woman I love is eating herself into nothingness from the inside out, and there’s nothing I can do.

How do I love her? Like one whose fingernails are ripped to shreds as he claws at the unforgiving cliff, trying to hold onto life over the maw of a gaping abyss.

I love this woman so much that the atoms of my teeth are fused together. Speech just isn’t going to happen at this point.

~

Déjà Vu

When I open the door, the first thing is the smell of her. Jasmine that blooms at night. The overwhelmation of Bulgari Blue. I think she’s overdosed on it.

“No matter what I do,” she says, “he still stays dead.”

The second thing is the half-empty bottle of Captain Morgan on the wooden trunk before her. The third is the woman herself, who contains the Captain’s other half. She toasts me with the tears pouring down her face.

“Jack, I can imagine a thousand scenarios,” says the woman draped in Bulgari Blue. “Did you see that movie, the really bad remake of The Time Machine? They changed the story so much, Wells himself wouldn’t recognize it. They have the guy be engaged. Can you believe that? Engaged, like his kind of scientist is ever gonna find time for a girl, even a neglected one. They have her die, and they have him go back again and again to try to save her. Back in time in his time machine. And he says that no matter how many times he goes back, he can’t save her. No matter what he does, she still dies every single time.”

I can’t get any closer to her than the arm of the couch. The force of this sorrow won’t let me. I can’t tell her I want to hold her hand. I can’t tell her I want to hold her body in my arms and let her sobs wring me limp. If I could finger one strand of her hair, that would be enough.

She tells me she doesn’t need a time machine. How could a machine ever take you back? The machine is physical, and time is everything but. Time is God, and how can a physical machine take you into God?

“I can imagine a thousand scenarios. I do something different every time. In some of them, I’m not even born. That’s how vast my imagination is. I’ve thought of a hundred thousand million different ways our lives could have played out, intertwined like snakes having sex, in some places they touch and in some they don’t. Even when they don’t and I’m not even born, he still dies. No machine could do what I’ve done to the inside of my heart, Jack. Every time I couldn’t save him, that’s a scar. For every life possibility, that’s a scar. Forget about some kind of metaphysical tree with pretty branches. That’s not how it works. Every life path is a scar, and I’ve got a hundred thousand million of them to prove it.”

I let myself rest my fingers on top of hers, as though they belong there. I wonder if atoms of our skin could ever fuse together like my teeth. I can’t tell her how badly I want to know what the inside of her mouth tastes like.

Grace says, “Bulgari Blue was his favorite.”

~

How Do I Love Thee? Let Me Count the Ways…

My eyes are tracing the sensual curves of her elegant profile. Her lower lip trembles, but she doesn’t even turn toward me. How can I but admire her courage?

“What if there’s more than one of me?” she whispers.

______

Click here to get the rest of the story. Happy reading!

Sneak Peek Blog Tour: Becca J. Campbell

Hello my lovelies,

When I first read the opening chapters of Becca J. Campbell‘s Foreign Identity, they were a series of “waves” in the now-defunct Google Wave. Becca posted those chapters as waves in order to get feedback from several of us writers and creative types.

I don’t remember what the feedback was. I don’t remember at what point, one by one, we all dropped out of Google Wave. I don’t even remember when I last logged on before the whole kaboodle got shut down.

But I do remember — and vividly — how Becca’s story gripped my imagination.

Every time I read her latest scribblings, the mystery of it all ate at me. Why were these characters imprisoned? Why did they have amnesia? Who did this to them? I came up with all sorts of theories, both sci-fi-ish and fantasy-esque. I mentioned a few of them to Becca. Every bit the Mona Lisa, she just smiled and told me to wait for it.

Fast-forward almost two years, and my wait was over. Finally, I was getting to read the story as a whole. Not only that, I was getting to help edit it. But no, forget the editing part. I was finally getting answers to all these questions that’d plagued me for two years!

And as it turned out, none of my theories were accurate.

Foreign Identity is a fascinating read. The mystery is edge-of-seat worthy. The sci-fi is refreshing. The romance is heart-warming.

But have I mentioned how the questions will drive you nuts?!?

See the end of this post for where to read excerpts of Foreign Identity and how to win free copies!

Enough from me, though. Here’s Becca on how Foreign Identity came to be and how she, as a writer, solved its mystery even for herself.

Becca J. Campbell and Foreign Identity

The idea for the book started in a very simple, very ordinary way.

At the time I was participating in a writing blog called The Creative Copy Challenge. The sole purpose of the blog is to provide ten words (twice a week) as a writing prompt, daring writers to come up with a short story or poem using all of the words.

Foreign Identity started with the ten little words in a post on April 20th, 2010. After the initial post, I continued writing the story on the CCC, adding to it twice a week. I followed the prompts the whole time, forcing myself to fit the words in. Sometimes they directed the story and other times I molded them to fit the story already in my head. More than half of the novel was written and published on the blog in serial form, one 1000 word (approximately) scene at a time. I wrote to a pretty big cliffhanger and then wrote the rest of the story in private, saving the final reveal for when I would publish the book.

When I wrote that first post I had no idea of the plot or where the story would lead. For me that made it fun and exciting to work on. I love mysteries and puzzles. So as a creative experiment, instead of starting Foreign Identity with an outline, I started with a problem and worked to find the solution.

Readers have commented on the thrill they felt when caught in the mystery of Foreign Identity and their attempts to try and solve the puzzle. Often writers don’t get to experience that same thrill of discovery with their own books. We usually have the end in mind before the journey even begins. And in a way, that didn’t seem quite fair. The mystery is what makes it fun. This was part of my motivation for starting how I did. (I have to say that it’s not an ideal way to write. I’ve since found that I prefer writing in a more thoughtfully organized method).

Once I’d decided to start with a problem, I needed to figure out what that problem would be. What situation could I throw a couple of characters into that would be complex and seem impossible? My answer was this: chain them up in a nondescript chamber and strip them of all their memories. And to top that off, leave them devoid of interaction with their captor and without any clue if they even had a captor.

Perfect. (Insert evil writer laugh.)

After that, it was just figuring out how to solve my poor characters’ dilemma. How would they escape? Once they did, what would be waiting for them? At that point I came up with a full back story and an elaborate scheme for why they might be in such a situation. But instead of ending the mystery then, I used clues that raised more questions than they answered. The television show Lost was a great example of how to write a properly suspenseful story without completely frustrating the viewers.

When you read Foreign Identity, you might feel the urge to figure out what’s behind it all, to put the puzzle pieces together. In fact, I hope you will. So far I’ve succeeded in mystifying most readers. In my mind that’s a good thing. I love stories that make me think, question, piece things together, and then end up with an unexpected twist. An enjoyable book is one that surprises me.

I’ve done my best to pull all of that together in Foreign Identity. I hope you will enjoy it like a thrill ride that takes you to unexpected heights and then brings you back to reality.

__

Read an Excerpt

Courtney here again! For your reading pleasure, Becca has posted a series of story excerpts. You can read the latest excerpt of Foreign Identity here!

For more of the story, get on board Becca’s Sneak Peek Blog Tour:

May 22ndMelody with Words
May 23rd Cover Analysis
May 24thWrite Me Happy
May 25thHave You Heard My Book Review
May 26thCourt Can Write
May 27thYearning for Wonderland
May 28thCatharsis of the Bogue
May 29thAaron Pogue
May 30thPen and Whisk
May 31st Stormy Night Publishing

Win a Free Copy of Foreign Identity:

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