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Flash: Simile Comparisons can be Real

Photo from freedigitalphotos.net

Elijah staggered up the steps. Once on the Victorian wrap-around porch he dragged off his sweat-soaked T-shirt and heaved it in the hamper his mom kept outside for his use. He flopped onto the wicker bench beside the hamper to unlace his work boots. Propped against the white picket railing, he delayed, gathering strength to bend over.

Mowing lawns in August was rough, but brainless. Some days the mindless work made him long for school to restart. Get the brain cells sparking. Even high school lit class sounded like paradise two days ago. Today, the monotonous activity kept him moving.

Moving. He needed to move.

Hoisting his left foot onto his right knee, Elijah tackled the wet grass-stained lace. Broken dirty fingernails dug into the sticky Gordon knot. Eventually the heavy boot thunked on the porch. A sodden once-white sock flew in a high arc, landing in a splat beside the hamper. The newly lightened foot floated to the wooden slats.

His jeans had a hole, above the knee. Elijah started at it a bit poking his finger in the opening.  He would need mom to patch it. Mr. Taggert didn’t like his team to look ratty. Team … I guess two people would still count as a team.

Other foot.

Task completed, and five pounds lighter between the shirt and boots, Elijah stood. The breeze was picking up, turning the hot afternoon chilly as it dried his sweat. Shivering, the teen debated taking off his work pants before going in. His mom hated him tracking grass clippings in the house.

“What’s up homey?” a voice said unexpectedly, breaking into his thoughts.

Elijah jumped. Spinning rapidly, he saw his best friend since fifth grade stepping onto the porch. The turn combined with exhaustion, physical and emotional, left him dizzy. He leaned against a nearby pillar for support, while his overdressed friend waited for him to regroup.

The tux looked great on Matthew. But then Matthew, from his wavy black rock-star hair, to the perfect cleft in his chin, had always looked good.

Naturally muscular and agile, Matthew had made the football team freshman year as linebacker. Elijah preferred track, but relented to Matthew’s friendly taunts to be a wide receiver under the condition Matt take up shot put. Which meant Matt had ended up with football AND track scholarships on the table waiting for him to finish his senior year and Elijah got a lot of bruises from being tackled.

“Gotcha!” Matt reported as he bounded over. Seeing Elijah still depending on the pillar for support, his skin more ashen than bronze despite a day outdoors, Matt got concerned. “Dude, are you okay? You look like you have seen a ghost.”

Elijah swallowed and licked his lips and swallowed again, trying to get the spit up to talk. “I have, bro. Haven’t you read the obituaries today?”

“What?” Matt shook his head.  “Have you ever known me to read the paper? You have the freaky parents still getting the morning paper delivered.”

“Matt, you missed work yesterday. I thought you had cut out for the beach or something.” Tears streamed down Elijah’s face. “Your parent found you dead, an aneurism or something.”

Matt laughed. “Stop messing with me, Dude.”

Elijah slammed his hand against the wooden pillar. “Oh God I wish I was. … Mr. Taggert let me off early so I could shower and go to your viewing tonight.”

“Dude, stop it. You’re scaring me.” Matt tried to grab Elijah by the shoulders to shake sense into him.

Elijah had stepped back quickly to avoid being touched, so only the tips of Matt’s fingers passed through Elijah.

“I’m sorry. I can’t do this.” The teen ran to his front door, banging open the screen. “Not again.”

Behind him, his best friend stared at his fingers in shock, waving them back and forth a moment. He laid his hand on the railing and gently pushed it through.

“Shit.” Matthew squeezed his hand into a fist. It felt solid. Matthew inhaled, trying to kick start his thoughts. He blinked. “Wait, what did he mean by ‘again’?”

(words 685 originally appearing at Breathless Press 6/27/13 for the 4/1/12 Sunday Fun – I have modified the final 3 paragraphs; republished new blog format April 28, 2019)

 

X is for Xander

Returning, she found Jax pulling on a tight pink t-shirt proclaiming “It’s an Anime thing, you wouldn’t understand.

“Hey honey, that was the ring guy.”

Scrunching her eyes, Cynthia asked, “What ring guy?”

“Umn, the one we were to causally come across in the vendor room and then I go down on one knee there and ask you to marry me, and then we pick out your engagement ring and our wedding rings.” Jax rubbed his neck. “And that would have been a disaster. I don’t know what I was thinking, putting you on the spot like that in public. Anyway, he is wanting to shut down for dinner and was wondering if we were coming by soon. I … well, I am going to go meet his assistant at the table and we are going to put together a selection and then, once Xander finishes his dinner, we’ll come up here and let you pick things out. Is that okay?” Jax used his puppy dog eyes like he always did when he did something he shouldn’t have as he shuffled toward the door.

Cynthia held up her hand. “Wait, you actually had a plan?”

“Um, yes?”

“You actually called ahead to arrange to buy rings.” Cindy was agog. “Who are you, and how far in advance did you plan this?”

“Hmm, it was part of the plan when I asked you to come to the con with me. I saw the vendor on the website when I was making reservations, and it went from there.”

“Jax, that was like, three months ago.”

“Yes?”

“What else is planned? A quiet dinner in the hotel room afterwards by candlelight?”

Jax shifted from foot to foot, looking abashed, “How did you know?”

His fiancee rushed across the room to hug him fiercely. Burying herself in his chest, she whispered, “I never knew you were a romantic. You do so many things off the cuff, I’m never sure if you really mean it.” She drew back, tears streaming down her face, making Jax feel very uncomfortable. “The public question would have sucked, don’t do that. E.V.E.R. Okay?”

Jax smiled down at her. “Okay.” He wiped a few of the tears away. “But the ring guy coming up, and food?”

“Wonderful. You are the most wonderful man in the whole world!”

Quickly kissing her, Jax opened the door. “I’ll be back soon. Why don’t you read some of the books we brought with us until I get back?”

“It’s what I always do while you are at a con.”

“So you get to do it where I can see you this time.” He tapped her nose while standing in the hallway. “I can get used to you attending conventions, just to let you know, even if you never leave the room. I love you.”

“I love you, too, you goofus.”

Once the door was closed, Jax pulled out his phone while taking huge strides down the hall to the elevators. Speaking at the black square, he asked, “Jeeves, what is the nearest Italian restaurant? No, wait. Mexican. Delivery.” He pushed the button on the wall to start the long wait for an elevator. The phone listed several places nearby, he scrolled through until he found one with delivery to the hotel. He was just finishing up his order when the elevator doors opened.

“Going up?” Someone in the small crowd asked.

“I think going up is the only way I will be able to down,” he said, stepping sideways into the lift, swimming toward the back through the ocean of flesh.

“Sure enough,” can the random answer.

***

Several hours later Jax sat across from the love of his life, for real this time, staring into her chocolate eyes and thanking his lucky stars. He had fallen in love for the first time in high school (middle school crushes do not count), the second time he lost his heart was Freshman year of college – and that one had been his biggest mistake (fortunately the antibiotics cleared his system), then again in Junior year. Him and Joyce might have made it the distance, but she wasn’t willing to leave the mid-west and his only job opportunities were at the coasts. She refused to follow even when he got her job interviews in her field paying her more than she was making in the town where she had grown up and given her more opportunity for advancement. He kept in touch for a couple years through social media, bleeding at every post like a love-sick idiot, until, one day, he was delivering product to at-home medical transcribers for a new corporate client and met Cynthia. He had remember previously running across her at a library event featuring the classic Vampire Hunter D, so they talked about that while he showed her how the new equipment worked. Before he left, she mentioned a dollar theater running anime nights on Wednesday and invited him.

One thing led to another.

Now he sat across from the most amazing woman in the world. Her eyes sparked like the three stones in the Tardis blue ring on her left hand. Xander had taken their measurements to make a set of matching wedding rings and promised them by the end of the summer convention season. Knowing the promptness of crafters who sell at conventions, Jax figured he would get the rings by Christmas.

Cynthia kept looking up at him, through the purple candles set into muetre skull candlestick holders he found when racing through the vendor room to catch the assistant before the convention closed the vendor room for the night. By the time the ring merchant finished his dinner and returned, the Mexican place had delivered to the front desk and Jax picked up the food on the way by. The candlesticks day-of-death theme tying into a Mexican tradition was a pure coincidence but made everything looked well-planned and coordinated. A perfect night for his perfect woman to remember.

 

A to Z Short Story List Breakdown

Rainbow Spectrum (A to F)
Marathon Party (G to M)
Trigger: Cutting (N to Q)
Bookstore Sort (R to T)

Panic at the Convention (U to Z)
4/24/2019 – U is for Uniform
4/25/2019 – V is for Volunteer
4/26/2019 – W is for Weasels
4/27/2019 – X is for Xander
4/28/2019 – Y is for Yuengling
4/29/2019 – Z is for Zillion

W is for Weasels

Cindy woke up and levered herself off of Jax, wiping her mouth for drool then his still bare chest. “You should have woke me.” She pushed her hair back from the face and blinked, looking around the hotel room.

“Why?” Jax sat up, rearranged the pillow, and leaned against the posts. “It’s not often I get you completely to myself.”

“You are at a con, you doofus. You don’t need me.” She rolled away to sit on the edge of the bed. “You never need me.”

“Whoa, whoa, whoa. Stop right there.” Jax reached across to grab her by the wrist. “I always need you. Got that. Don’t let that brain-weasel tell you otherwise, okay?” His blue eyes bore into her chocolate ones.

“But you are at a con. You go to them all the time.”

“And I text to you about them all the time while I’m at them.” Jax moved to sit next to her. “I want you here. Got that. I am so glad you came. You make me happy just by being in the same room.”

She shook off his hand to rub her arms with her hands, crossing her arms across her chest. “But I can’t. I can’t be in the same room. We just tried it and I–”

“And I screwed up.” Jax said firmly, interrupting. “I didn’t notice you having problems, and I should have. You are doing this for me.” He lifted her chin with a finger as she tried to look away. “You are incredibly brave. The bravest person I know.”

“I panic at nothing.” Cindy tried looking away at the abstract paintings of triangles, circles, and squares decorating the hotel room.

“No, you panic at something, we just don’t know what. And you were willing to risk that for me.” He gently pressed a finger against her cheek until she was staring at his eyes again. “Wow,” he said intimately. “You ask me to go into a place where I panic, like a roomful of clowns, I’m not sure I could.”

Cynthia laughed a sad chuckle. “I promise I will never drag you to the circus.”

“Thank goodness,” Jax sagged in pretend relief. “You are the perfect woman for me. I should marry you.”

Red rushed up both sides of Cindy’s neck to flush her checks, ears, and forehead. “Wha…”

Jax did a control fall to the floor in front of the bed, ending up on one knee and grasping both her hands. “Cynthia Amanda Cooper, will you marry me?”

“Ah.” She stared at their joined hands, pulling hesitantly away, but him firmly holding on, but gently. If she actually tried to pull away, she could. “Ah.”

“I meant to have a ring, but …” Jax shrugged, “you know me and being organized.”

“No, you don’t want to be married to me.” Cindy shook her head, whipping the purple hair side-to-side. “You can’t. It’s just hormones talking.”

“I think after four years, we are pretty much beyond the in-love hormone stage.”

“But I can’t be there with you. You are great and handsome and smart and–”

Jax interrupted, “And you are smart and beautiful and funny and caring and sexy.” He released one of his hands from where they were jointed and lifted a finger up to her lips where more protests were forming. “Stop, stop. Shhh. If we were at home, last week or the week before that and I asked, what would you have said.”

Cynthia waited until he lifted the finger away, then bit her lips, tensing her shoulders.

“Ah, ah.” He waved his finger side-to-side the first time she opened her mouth to speak. “The truth.”

She relaxed her shoulders, then leaned forward until their foreheads touched. “Yes. I would have said yes,” she said, “I’ve been ready to say yes since you fell shoveling my snow that first year.”

“Give a guy some hints,” Jax whined.

Cindy shrugged. “I let you move in the next week.”

“Okay, that was a hint. I got to admit that should be considered a hint.” Rocking back on his heels to switch to a full kneeling position. “I’m an idiot.”

“No, Jax, you are a doofus.” Cynthia ran her hand over his hair until she let her hand drop on his shoulder. “My doofus.” She leaned all the way forward to kiss him quickly on the lips, falling completely off the bed into his lap in the process. Laughing in each other arms, peppering kisses on each other between the twin full-sized beds in their hotel room until Jax’s phone rang.

His newly-minted fiancee let him roll away immediately. His medical equipment sales position lived and died on being available to his clients 24-7. Jax pulled the phone out of the holster on his belt and looked at the number before swiping to answer. “Yes? Jaxson Miller here.”

Cindy got herself off the floor, touching him on the head as she passed by where he sat to go to the bathroom and give him privacy, carefully not paying attention to anything he said. Just like he carefully ignored any paperwork and phone talk about her medical transcription job when he had to come into her home office for something. While most of Jax’s clients were hospitals and doctors where HIPPA did not matter since owning certain machines are a given, he had some direct customers where having equipment really was life and death and the medical information was protected.

 

A to Z Short Story List Breakdown

Rainbow Spectrum (A to F)
Marathon Party (G to M)
Trigger: Cutting (N to Q)
Bookstore Sort (R to T)

Panic at the Convention (U to Z)
4/24/2019 – U is for Uniform
4/25/2019 – V is for Volunteer
4/26/2019 – W is for Weasels
4/27/2019 – X is for Xander
4/28/2019 – Y is for Yuengling
4/29/2019 – Z is for Zillion

V is for Volunteer

“I’m okay.”

“You sure hon?” Jax asked, turning the scratches away from her.

She nodded, rubbing her face, smudging her thick makeup. Jax, pulled his t-shirt over his head, quickly mopping his face to get the blood off, then passed it to her. “But–”

“I got more upstairs.” Jax gently tucked a lock of hair behind Cynthia’s ear.

“You’re half-naked.” She shook her head. “You can’t go out in public like that.”

“Seriously, after what you’ve seen in those halls?” Jax smiled until she smiled back ruefully. The cos-play added color to the halls outside, and a significant portion of it was the shades of humanity’s skin, if blue counted. “Besides, I don’t work out to get this chest just to hide it. What do I say?”

“Sun’s out, guns out. You big goof.” Cynthia laughed, and for the first time truly looked at the third person in the hall. “Hello?”

“Hello.” Basketcase nodded at the woman with purple hair. “I’m Reese.”

“I’m sorry to be a bother.”

He shook his head. “No problem. Keeps me from eating too much in the hospitality suite.”

“You have better things to do.”

“Not really.” Reese cocked a half-smile. “Talking to purple-haired anime fans is my job today. Especially when they are cute. A bonus for a rather boring job.”

“A job you want to be boring.” Jax inserted.

Reese nodded. “Amen to that. We got a good bunch. And it is Friday.”

Her eyes drifted down to his badge with the big yellow ribbon attached to the bottom like a prize at a state fair proclaiming him a volunteer with a second one, even bigger, in blue and black indicating security. “Basketcase?”

“My con name. I may volunteer just a little.” Reese held his two index fingers closely together, maybe an inch between them, then, keeping the fingers in parallel, he spread his arms as wide apart as they could go. A small laugh escaped from Cynthia at his antics. “For some reason my friends call me Basketcase. So what are your names, my purple-haired wonder and hunky shirtless guy?”

Cindy’s froze a second, looking up at Jax, who smiled easily. “I’m Jax. No con name.”

“Cynthia,” came as a whisper that Jax barely heard.

“Jax and his silent partner. Got it.”

“Cynthia. My name is Cynthia.”

“Nice to meet you Cynthia.” Reese waved at both of them from where he sat. “So, are you ready to face the world again?”

“No!” erupted from the woman, holding her boyfriend tighter.

Reese nodded his head slowly. “Okay.” His brown eyes darted, studying the couple. “Are you staying at the hotel? Do you want to go back to your room?”

“Yes, we are the fifth floor.” Jax responded.

“The quiet floor.” Reese stood up in pieces, arms first, then knees, feet, and rose like a titian out of the Earth or an old man from the sea. “I think we can get there without getting into the main halls. Do you want the elevator or stairs?”

Jax and Cindy stood, reflecting Basketcase’s moves without conscious attention. “I think stairs.” Jax said, reaching for Cynthia’s hand.

“Yes, please.”

“Let me think.” Reese moved his pointer finger through the air. Lifting it up one way, down another. Holding a finger at one point and bringing his left hand up to draw another line from it before waving both, erasing the lines only he could see, and starting over. The two watched the invisible mapping, until, at last, the convention volunteer said, “Got it. Least amount of people until the stairwell. Going to go through some dicey areas, just a warning.” He lowered his voice ominously. “We are going to cut through the gaming section with the D&D and Star War RPG enthusiasts. Are you ready to go where only nerds dare to go?”

Sounding equally serious, Jax responded, “I believe we are up to the task. We recently watched a Game of Thrones episode at a friend’s house.”

“If you think that is enough to prepare you for the horrors you are about to witness, you are sadly mistaken my friend. Hold your lady tight as we prepare for this journey.”

Cindy looked back and forth between the two men as Jax squeezed her hand and smiled reassurance. The two followed Basketcase down the cement-floored hallway until cutting out another side door into a main convention thoroughfare. The convention security volunteer quickly drilled them through the horde down a smaller hallway with a switchback, opening up into a larger space filled with dozens of round tables surrounding by five to ten people each, mostly men, rolling dice, scribbling on paper, and hiding behind screens. Several tables had piles of miniatures, everything from dragons surrounded by archers and men on horseback, to armies of mechs on hexagonal graph paper. Not a single person looked up from their games as the group skirted the edge until they exited the room through a set of double doors. Five steps ahead were the elevators with dozens of people waiting for the two lifts, but Reese turned immediately through another door of the maze and suddenly they were in the back hotel areas again with a cement stairwell.

“I think you can get back from here.” Reese waved up the steps. “Remember, it is dangerous to go alone.” He gave them a crazy look, smirking. “Good luck on the rest of your adventure.”

“Thanks, and good luck to you too, old wise man.” Jax shook the hand Reese tentatively offered as he stepped past them to return to the main floor.

 

A to Z Short Story List Breakdown

Rainbow Spectrum (A to F)
Marathon Party (G to M)
Trigger: Cutting (N to Q)
Bookstore Sort (R to T)

Panic at the Convention (U to Z)
4/24/2019 – U is for Uniform
4/25/2019 – V is for Volunteer
4/26/2019 – W is for Weasels
4/27/2019 – X is for Xander
4/28/2019 – Y is for Yuengling
4/29/2019 – Z is for Zillion

 

Other Cool Blogs: Simple Writing 2013

Quote by Erma Bombeck appearing on Girlfriendology.com

Voice

You always hear about how editors are looking for a distinctive “writer’s voice”, like they look for good hooks, characters, worldbuilding and plot. But no one can define “writer’s voice” – is it word choice, is it sentence structure, is it topic, is it genre? What is it?

Leah McClellan’s blog for Simple Writing on “Writer’s Voice: What it is and how to develop yours” ) tackles the subject head on.

WRITING EXERCISE: Now you have reviewed the article, do you know what feeds into your writer’s voice to make it unique? Sit down with at least six months of your writing and/or at least five different stories and see where the similarities lie. What are the strengths and weaknesses of your voice? Based on your analysis what should you write and what should you avoid?

READING EXERCISE: What type of voice draws you? Go to your bookshelves or electronic reading device. Find three authors from three different genres (if possible) which you have three books or more for (a series only counts as one book). If you have a full shelf devoted to them, even better. What do they have in common? How are they different from other writers in their genre?

MY WRITING EXAMPLE: So what do I think my voice is? Well people have wrote the following reviewing my book and editing my work:

From an editor “Nice. I’m really digging this character, and the closeness of the brothers. Even in such a short amount of time, I feel like I could easily meet these guys somewhere in my hometown. Very solid. “

From a different editor “Very real characters. “

From a reviewer “…easy to get to know the characters.”

From another reviewer “I felt that when I started reading HONESTLY, like wait, do I know these people? … The story and characters were easily understood and relatable right away,”

So I know my voice is about the characters. Not just that I write good or believable characters who make decisions in a logical manner, but characters which people know, that they relate to, that they swear they have met on the street. Nearly every review, critique, or feedback I receive from people focuses on this.

What are my weaknesses? Well, that would be action. I am just not action-oriented. I’ve worked hard on any romantic choreography and fight scenes I’ve written. Writing a thriller or a story primarily about a fighter would be an exercise in mediocrity and frustration. Any attempt at long-form urban fantasy ending with a big-bad fight scene will push my limits and writing style.

And I am not sure if this is a weakness, strength, or just integral to my voice, but I think in phrases, not sentences. (Which the sentence proves.) When writing my first draft, either everything is sentence fragments or unending run-on sentences. No real in-between for me. I go over everything a lot to create a more proper grammatical final product. Which makes the weakness of being bad at action from the selling-money-making standpoint depressing, because my natural wording works great for action-packed scenes. The thinking in phrases makes writing historical fiction difficult since their speaking structure is more formal and connected. When writing I go over the speaking dialogue a lot to make certain not everyone sounds like me.

Also in the language diction area, I have fun combining different ideas together. I love oxymorons and other clever word combinations. I try to avoid puns in writing as a kindness to my readers; also, a kindness to me – reading the pun through three drafts and three editing cycles and a print review gets old.

Now what happens when I line all my stories up? What are the similarities I see? Well, somehow family is always involved. In Honestly, Kassandra’s son drives nearly all of her decision-making and Troy’s father is integral to his life. In Cons of Romance the heroine has adopted family she will not turn her back on, and the hero makes several decisions based on his nearly grown children. Other stories have two brothers deal with aliens and the alien parents, a superhero rescuing his mother from a couple of villain (who are cousins of each other, not the superhero and his mom), a single mother raising her two boys, and a girl discovering being the sister to the anti-Christ carries a unique set of responsibilities.

Another similarity is humor. Most stories have mild humor. Not slapstick or laugh-out-loud funny jokes, but something a reader smiles at, recognizing life. One of my favorite paragraphs from Honestly is

Oh crap, did Dewayne wake the whole building? It was close to ten. No one was going to be happy with her. At least most of young kids were in bed, and if they were anything like her three-year-old, they would sleep through a nuclear bomb. So long as they didn’t need a glass of water.

I also tend to sneak in some learning to make the world bigger than just to story window a reader looks through. Pieces of information walk through on the street and you see them enter the window one side and leave by another. In Honestly, beer and amputations star in some scenes. Cons of Romance begins with the activity of a convention and part of the relationship between the main characters is developing as writers. I’ve had flashes ranging from how 3-D printing might affect our lives in the future and a Roman legion which disappeared in Ireland.

My themes tend to include love and hope. Love of family, sexual love, love of learning. Hope of tomorrow and it will most likely be better than today, and today was pretty good when you think about it. Even my Zombie apocalypse and attempts at horror stories are about hope, and that is saying something.

So what is my voice? Real-life believable characters, family, love, hope, humor, all written in short phrases with a unique turn of phrase on occasion. My “voice” would be perfect for humorist or hopeful literary fiction. Most of literary fiction is dreadfully downtrodden, so I don’t read it. Genre fiction, science fiction, fantasy, romance, and mystery, is about hope and I read genre by the crane lift. I guess if I continue writing someday someone might describe my voice as the “Emma Bombeck of genre fiction.” Or whomever is the family humorist of that time. Not a bad epithet.

Knowing my strengths and what fits my voice the best can help direct me in my writing, both artistically and business-wise. I should avoid historical romances, thriller, epic fantasy, and horror stories. Romantic urban fantasy is a strong contender, since humor, family and short phrasing all work well. Steampunk is questionable because of the flowery language of the historical setting; soft science fiction would work better than hard science fiction.

How about you? Do you agree with my assessment of myself? How about your analysis of your voice? Figuring out my voice took about five years after I started being serious about writing and I had been writing thirty-some years before that (oh, dear, did I just give away my age?). Anyway, no rush if you are still exploring your voice. Have fun writing.

MY READING EXAMPLE:

Dorothy Gilman – cozy mystery writer of Mrs. Pollifax and like stories – Humorous, but very real, old lady, becomes a spy much to the enjoyment and worry of her handlers.

Jim Bernheimer – science fiction, fantasy, and superhero – Sarcastic, but very real, characters solving situations they find themselves in.

Christopher Stasheff – soft science fiction and fantasy writer – Lots of family solving issues arising out of life.

George Dickson – His Child Cycle series, usually considered military sci-fi, contains unexpected romantic bits and centers on the family dynamics of the Dorsai. His fantasy books have sly humor.

Needless to say the writers I enjoy the most have the combination of sly humor, family, and problem-solving life situations I like writing about. … And, aha, that is what I need to add more to my voice to harden it. More problem-solving life situations. I think I need to bring that to my long-form. My best flashes and short stories all include problem-solving.

I hope you get as much out of this exercise as I did. Be sure to comment below.