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Tag: Futility collection

Weekend Writing Warrior 7/26/15 #8Sunday

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promoThis month I’m posting excerpts from my short story collection The Futility of Loving a Soldier. This week is a continuation of Lindy’s story in “Crash.” She’s just returned from combat and her dad isn’t sure how to react – and neither is she.

* * * * * * * * * *

Lindy strode down the sidewalk, trying to look as if she had a purpose, although she did… kind of: getting away from her dad. He was trying his best to help her, but barging into her room whenever he felt like it, wanting to talk, wasn’t doing either of them any good; she wasn’t a little girl anymore, for crying out loud.

Her mom had tried to explain her dad to her once. Mom lay in her hospital bed, one of the many times towards the end, and Lindy had burst into her room upset because Dad had tried to get her dinner from the ice cream truck.

“Your dad’s a doer,” Mom had told her, “and when he sees a problem, he wants to do something to fix it because for him, anything is better than nothing.” Mom smiled at her and said, “You’re a doer too.”

Her mom had died a couple weeks later, and Lindy often returned to her mom’s assessment of her, because maybe that was why she’d enlisted right after graduation; the army gave her plenty to do. But she’d turned into a thinker since then, and here she was again—struggling as every action brought up thoughts she didn’t want.

* * * * * * * * * *

Read more about Lindy in The Futility of Loving a Soldier, then post a link to your eight sentences blog entry, or join the fun at the Weekend Writing Warriors website.

Weekend Writing Warrior 7/19/15 #8Sunday

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promoThis month I’m posting excerpts from my short story collection The Futility of Loving a Soldier. This week is a continuation of Lindy’s story in “Crash.” She’s just returned from combat and her dad isn’t sure how to react.

* * * * * * * * * *

“Honey—”

“I said I don’t want to talk about it!”

She stood up abruptly, and Bill took an involuntary step back. She’d always been small, but she’d lost weight since her return; her eyes stared out from dark sockets in a too-angular face, framed by limp hair. They caught something in his expression and narrowed, and she pushed past him and out of the room.

A moment later, the front door slammed.

Bill sighed. At least she’d left the house.

* * * * * * * * * *

Read more about Lindy in The Futility of Loving a Soldier, then post a link to your eight sentences blog entry, or join the fun at the Weekend Writing Warriors website.

Weekend Writing Warriors 7/12/15 #8Sunday

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promoI’m currently working towards a master’s/PhD in social work, and as part of it I did an internship at a homeless shelter last summer. A lot of people there had mental illnesses, a lot of people were veterans, and a few of the people were both. For some of the stories in my collection The Futility of Loving a Soldier, I created characters that were composites of people I met last summer.

The main character in “Crash,” one of those stories, is a composite of female vets I met. Lindy has just returned from Iraq and is a bit jumpy (something very real for our vets, many of whom can’t handle fireworks because it reminds them of their experiences). Her dad knows he needs to help her but isn’t sure how.

* * * * * * * * * * *

“Lindy, honey,” he asked as he stepped cautiously into the room, not wanting to be hit by a flying shoe or bottle, “you okay?”

“What do you think?” Her voice was muffled too, just like the music.

He couldn’t quite place where she was, so he turned down the stereo volume and glanced around again.

She sat in the corner between her bed and the wall, curled into the fetal position, head resting on arms curled tightly around her knees.

He approached cautiously, not sure how to handle her. “Lindy?”

“I don’t want to talk about it.”

* * * * * * * * * * *

Read more about Lindy in The Futility of Loving a Soldier, then post a link to your eight sentences blog entry, or join the fun at the Weekend Writing Warriors website.

Weekend Writing Warriors 7/5/15 #8Sunday

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promoI spent the Fourth of July in Saginaw, MI (because why not). It’s one of the worst post-industrial cities in America in regard to both poverty and crime, and so every time fireworks have gone off this weekend, I’ve had to remind myself it’s not gunshots. Kinda unnerving.

This week’s excerpt comes from “Crash,” a short story in my anthology The Futility of Loving a Soldier, which is on sale right now for just $$.99 this morning and then $1.99 after that. In this one, Lindy has just returned from Iraq and is a bit jumpy (something very real for our vets, many of whom can’t handle fireworks because it reminds them of their experiences).

* * * * * * * * * * *

Bill stopped outside Lindy’s bedroom door and listened his daughter inside, or at least her music, a loud country song with indiscernible lyrics. He raised his hand to knock but paused, his fist poised; maybe the music was all he’d heard.

A crash came from inside the room, then muffled curses and another crash – no, he hadn’t imagined it.

“Lindy,” he asked as he knocked and took a step back, “everything okay?”

Since she’d been discharged, she’d spent most of her time in her room or skulking around the house. He’d known the Army would change his daughter—wasn’t that what all the commercials said?—but he’d expected her to come back proud, strong, and triumphant – not like this.

How would she respond this time – would she ignore him, maybe turn up the music; throw open the door and jettison something toward his head; come out crying, needing her daddy, finally ready to talk?

Nothing.

* * * * * * * * * * *

Read more about Lindy in The Futility of Loving a Soldier, on sale right now at Amazon, then post a link to your eight sentences blog entry, or join the fun at the Weekend Writing Warriors website.

Weekend Writing Warriors 2/8/15 #8sunday

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horseSo far this year I’ve been posting from the first book in a series of retold fairy tales. The first story is Beauty and the Beast.

Brandulfr, the leader of an army, has just come into MC Nyah’s village. Last week he told the villagers nothing bad would happen if they cooperate.

* * * * * * * * * * *

“And if we refuse?” Wynne called out. I cringed; did he not know the threat these men posed?

Brandulfr’s smile no longer reached his eyes. “Perhaps then I should give you an incentive.” He scanned the crowd, then charged.

Villagers scattered amidst screams. I grabbed tightly at the hand of Payton, my younger sister. Not tightly enough, however, as the warrior swooped in, hauled her across his saddle, and galloped away.

* * * * * * * * * * *

Post a link to your eight sentences blog entry, or join the fun at the Weekend Writing Warriors website.

Weekend Writing Warriors 12/7/14 #8sunday

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coverI have a new book of short stories, The Futility of Loving a Soldier, available now from Evolved Publishing!

The Futility of Loving a Soldier is a collection of eleven short stories about the effects of combat on relationships with military friends and family. Moving between why we love our troops to why we hate them, The Futility of Loving a Soldier demonstrates that we wouldn’t want lives without them.

Today’s excerpt is from “Crash.” Lindy’s dad constantly checks on her and it’s driving her crazy, so she’s taken refuge in a local park, where she’s currently lying down daydreaming.

She closed her eyes again, trying to clear her mind.

She awoke in her tent, like she did most nights. The woman in the cot next to her snored softly. The base was generally quieter at night, quiet enough that she would’ve heard crickets if she’d been stateside, but instead she heard the quiet footsteps of soldiers on patrol, engines of occasional vehicles driving by, and the scream of a mortar tearing its way into their tent, into the woman snoring next to her. Lindy’s head cracked onto the pavement. She opened her eyes in the infirmary, battered and alive, mostly, and a medic wiped blood off her face with a smooth, wet rag.

Lindy reached up to brush the medic away—her roommate needed the attention more than she did—and her hand connected with something furry.

Her eyes flew open as she recoiled from whatever she’d touched.

Read more about Lindy, and the other soldiers in this collection, by getting your copy at Amazon for just $2.99. Then post a link to your eight sentences blog entry, or join the fun at the Weekend Writing Warriors website.

And while you’re at Amazon, get a free copy of my latest short story, “Not My Thing.”

Weekend Writing Warriors 11/30/14 #8sunday

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coverI have a new book of short stories, The Futility of Loving a Soldier, available now from Evolved Publishing!

The Futility of Loving a Soldier is a collection of eleven short stories about the effects of combat on relationships with military friends and family. Moving between why we love our troops to why we hate them, The Futility of Loving a Soldier demonstrates that we wouldn’t want lives without them.

Today’s excerpt is from “A Wedding,” which is my favorite story in the collection. Eli and Abby were best friends growing up and haven’t really talked in nearly ten years – Abby went to college and Eli enlisted. Now they’re both back in their small hometown where everyone feels like commenting on their lives.

“So, Abby, did you hear that the Hicks boy is getting married this month?” she asked as she placed a couple frozen pizzas on the belt.

I nodded and reached for the bar to separate our orders.

“Jamie Linn is just a doll, ain’t she? They’re so happy together,” the gray-haired woman said, straining to lift a two-liter Diet Coke from her cart, “ and Eli deserves some happiness after all he’s been through, bless him.”

I bit my lip and swallowed the lump in my throat.

“You and him was so close growing up,  we expected y’all to get married someday.”

The lump grew with each of the woman’s words.

“But that was before he came back ” – her voice dropped to a false whisper – “like that.”

Read more about Abby and Eli, and the other soldiers in this collection, by getting your copy at Amazon for just $2.99. Then post a link to your eight sentences blog entry, or join the fun at the Weekend Writing Warriors website.

And while you’re at Amazon, get a free copy of my latest short story, “Not My Thing.”

Weekend Writing Warriors 11/23/14 #8sunday

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coverI have a new book of short stories, The Futility of Loving a Soldier, coming out December 1st from Evolved Publishing.

The Futility of Loving a Soldier is a collection of eleven short stories about the effects of combat on relationships with military friends and family. Moving between why we love our troops to why we hate them, The Futility of Loving a Soldier demonstrates that we wouldn’t want lives without them.

Today’s excerpt is from “A Wedding,” which is my favorite story in the collection. Eli and Abby were best friends growing up and haven’t really talked in nearly ten years – Abby went to college and Eli enlisted. He was wounded, and she visited him in the hospital.

I stepped into the room where he lay unconscious, passed out from pain and medication. He looked so pathetic lying there, with bigger muscles than the last time I’d seen him but paler, deathly pale with huge black circles under his eyes, cuts all over his exposed face and neck, and a bandage where his left arm should’ve been.

 

I edged over to his bed and picked up his right hand—his only hand now—careful not to disturb any of the wires and tubes sticking out of him, then stared at his fingers and palm, tracing the callouses on his fingertips before gently setting it back down and leaving the room.

 

I didn’t go back.

 

Fortunately Jamie Linn was there to help him rebound and rebuild once he was back home. She’d had a crush on him for as long as anyone could remember, and she was a nurse now, or home care aide or traveling physical therapist, something that got her into his house each day and got him back to healthy. And once he was better, up and around and selling used cars with his dad, she’d stuck around. It was the perfect romance story come to life, except my mom said Eli had bad spells where he’d just lock himself in his room and stare at the walls, and Jamie Linn got all weepy whenever a show like The Bachelor or 19 Kids and Counting came on and reminded her that she was twenty-seven, childless, and engaged to a moody one-handed used-car salesman.

Post a link to your eight sentences blog entry, or join the fun at the Weekend Writing Warriors website.

And make sure to get a copy of my latest short story, “Not My Thing,” free at Smashwords, Barnes and Noble, and Amazon.

 

Weekend Writing Warriors 11/16/14 #8sunday

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the futility of loving a soldierI have a new book of short stories, The Futility of Loving a Soldier, coming out December 1st from Evolved Publishing.

The Futility of Loving a Soldier is a collection of eleven short stories about the effects of combat on relationships with military friends and family. Moving between why we love our soldiers to why we hate them, The Futility of Loving a Soldier demonstrates that we wouldn’t want lives without them.

Today’s excerpt is from “Gone But Not Forgotten,” about Carolyn, whose husband Bryce has just returned from deployment. In this scene, she’s thinking back on when their relationship started to fall apart.

She’d gone out to lunch with her mom, followed by a trip to the grocery store, gone three hours, tops. She’d had reservations leaving Shanna with Bryce, but he reassured her they’d be fine.

 

“It’s my own daughter, for fuck’s sake; you think I’d hurt my own daughter?”

 

Not intentionally, she wanted to retort, but instead she swallowed her words, her misgivings, and handed him the baby.

 

“I’ll be back in a few hours. Her bottle’s in the fridge, she likes it when you sing her to sleep, and she sleeps with her teddy bear, on her back.” Bryce tensed and Carolyn stopped talking, stopped the same laundry list of details she gave teenage babysitters, because this was her husband, Shanna’s father, and he didn’t need this. They’d be fine.

Post a link to your eight sentences blog entry, or join the fun at the Weekend Writing Warriors website.

And make sure to get a copy of my latest short story, “Not My Thing,” free at Smashwords, Barnes and Noble, and Amazon.

Weekend Writing Warriors 11/9/14 #8sunday

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the futility of loving a soldierI have a new book of short stories, The Futility of Loving a Soldier, coming out December 1st from Evolved Publishing.

The Futility of Loving a Soldier is a collection of eleven short stories about the effects of combat on relationships with military friends and family. Moving between why we love our soldiers to why we hate them, The Futility of Loving a Soldier demonstrates that we wouldn’t want lives without them.

Today’s excerpt is from “A Family Tradition: Jozef, WWI,” about a man grappling with a lost love following his service in WWI. In this scene, he’s saying goodbye to her before immigrating to America.

“Why can’t you stay here? Don’t you love me?”

 

“Suzanne, of course I love you,” he said as he squeezed her hand, “and I want to stay but there’s no future for us here. If I go to America, I can make money for us, and for the children we’ll have some day.”

 

She nodded, a single tear trickling down her cheek, and said, “I know, but I’ll miss you because I need you here.”

 

Joos brushed her tear with his thumb. What to say; they’d had this discussion dozens of times since he’d announced he was immigrating.

 

Suzanne grabbed his hand, pressed her lips to his palm, and said, “Hold onto this, Joos; hold onto my love until we’ll be together again.”

Post a link to your eight sentences blog entry, or join the fun at the Weekend Writing Warriors website.

And make sure to get a copy of my latest short story, “Not My Thing,” free at Smashwords, Barnes and Noble, and Amazon.

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