Contemporary – Page 16 – Erin Penn's Second Base

J is for Jazz

April 11, 2019April 24, 2024 Erin Penn 3 Comments

Rating: Mature (Discussion, not action – last sentence)

“So what is your disease?” Courtney’s sister asked, rotating her body in the folding chair to face Jazz while Bobby, who had been Babs at the Valentine day party, made a paper plate hat of bows for Elisa while others of the party dug through the wrapping paper looking for stray bows now the gifts were completely unwrapped.

Jazz looked over at Elisa, debating on how to answer. Courtney’s family had not been happy when she had came out as a lesbian in college, and were even more unhappy when Courtney fell in love with Elisa when the two of them worked sets for a vampire movie, then eloped a month later. Now, Neil in the mix confused them all over again. To them love required rings, and rules, and scriptures, and genders. Emotions, friendship, and trust weren’t even in their vocabulary. And it showed in every interaction Jazz had with the family since she watched her best friend exchange her wedding vows.

If she named her disease, Tiffany would do what everyone else always does. Option one would be say she had a friend who had it and it was much worse and Jazz shouldn’t be wallowing her problems. Option two would be a friend who had it and could function like a normal person, so Jazz should be able to do that too. Option three, which was the most annoying, would be helpful suggestions of a herbal remedy, or a doctor or massage therapist or yoga instructor, like Jazz didn’t spend every hour of every day searching and researching her problems.

Jazz didn’t have the spoons for it.

“Oh, I got walking death, the pre-zombie syndrome, so I’m not really good with the walking.” Jazz grinned as perky as she could. “The pills help keep me above ground and contagious.”

On her other side, a friend from the high school theater crowd choked on her punch. Hunter would be fine in a moment. On the other hand, Tiffany leaned away, then got up and moved to another chair.

Rasping, Hunter commented, “That’s evil.”

“It worked.”

“Not arguing.” She cleared her throat, not taking another sip just yet. “We are going to have to tell Elisa.”

“You’re the actress, you tell her.” Jazz turned and smiled at Hunter. “By the way, saw your back in Price Leader. Great extra shot. They nearly had you in half-profile for a tenth of a second.”

“I have you know I got a speaking part in a commercial last week.”

Seeing the disaster cleanup was nearly complete, Jazz leaned closer to whisper. “Congratulations, a mother part?”

“Yeah, I’ve finally grown old enough to be what everyone wants to typecast me as. I think my career is about to take off.”

“We all seem to finally getting that age.”

“As my six- and twelve-year-old remind me constantly.”

Courtney clapped her hands for attention. “Next up, name the baby, grab some of the pastel notepads. Best name as judged by me and Elisa get an all-day sucker.” Courtney held up a colorful lollipop the size of her face. “Best name as judged by Neil and Bobby gets an all-day sucker too.” She held up a black candy dildo with her other hand.

A to Z Short Story List Breakdown

Rainbow Spectrum (A to F)

Marathon Party (G to M)
4/8/2019 – G is for Gobi
4/9/2019 – H is for Horse
4/10/2019 – I is for Sherbet
4/11/2019 – J is for Jazz
4/12/2019 – K is for Keeper
4/13/2019 – L is for Loss
4/15/2019 – M is for Marathon

I is for Sherbet

April 10, 2019April 24, 2024 Erin Penn 1 Comment

Rating: Mature (Discussion, not action)

Jazz parked in front of her friend’s condo, taking up either Elisa’s or Neil’s parking spot. Her fingers gripped the wheel tight. There had been a couple of close calls turning at lights. She wasn’t sure how much longer she could safely drive. It had been over two hours since she took the pink pill that gave her the mobility in her hands and knees so she could drive, but the loopy effects even after all that time were just enough to slow down her reaction rate and she had made mistakes. She couldn’t do highway driving at all anymore.

She wanted to cry in frustration.

Taking the bus took too much energy but grabbing a cab was beyond her budget. If she gave up her car, she would only be able to leave the house for doctor visits since Human Services provided a specially modified bus for that with door-to-door service.

To be completely home bound! No crying, she chided herself, not with the makeup.

Jazz pried her fingers off the steering wheel and got out of the car. From the back seat, she took out the walker-seat and put the lime green bag and her purse on the seat before pushing her way up the sidewalk. The cane would have worked since she was able to park so close, but Jazz had no idea what she would be like by five. The longest she had been out of the house except for doctor and hospital visits had been shopping for the gift on Tuesday, and that had put her on her back until late Wednesday. A short trip of only two hours inclusive, not four hours plus travel time

Elisa, her belly pressing hard against a tasteful skull and vampire fanged maternity top, answered the door. “Jazz!” The dyed fuchsia redhead pulled the door wide and helped her schoolmate lift the walker over the threshold lip. “I’m so glad you made it.”

“I wouldn’t miss it for the world.” Jazz hugged her best friend, glad the painkiller allowed her to stand straight and bend into the hug without problems. “Where is everyone?” The jewelry had taken longer than she had anticipated, even with her special tools to close latches so she ran a few minutes late.

“Oh, Courtney is here and working with Neil on putting up the decoration. Everyone else should be here at two. I wanted time with just us. Come, come in.” Elisa closed the heavy wood and glass security door. “Sit with me and help me make fun of them. It’s been boring. They won’t let me do anything!”

“You are due in three weeks.”

Elisa flopped on the couch in a manner indicating she wasn’t getting up again in a long time. “Three eternities. Why did I do this?”

“Because you finally found a good man to go with your good woman and wanted to make some good children.” Jazz maneuvered her walker next to the couch, between the folding chairs moved in front of the television, where she could see Courtney and Neil working in the kitchen and Elisa stuff cushion into the small of her back on the huge ornate sofa. “After some very good sex.”

Elisa turned her head to Jazz, grinning evilly. “It was very, very good sex.”

“Best sex ever!” Courtney yelled from the kitchen. “Can’t wait for my turn!”

“Oh god. What have I gotten into?” Neil asked, placing a punch bowl filled with gingerale and sherbet scoops on the dining room table.

“Where did you find black sherbet and what flavor is it?” Jazz had to ask.

Courtney brought in red plastic cups and black napkins. “Oh, I made it. The flavor is mint and peach. I debated floating lady’s fingers but we did that for the valentine day party.”

“I don’t believe I’ve ever seen garlands of black skulls and gold baby rattles before.” Jazz looked around the room admiring the eclectic mix of the family’s ongoing vampire and Gothic themes with baby shower ornaments.

“$5 at GothPartyOnline.” Courtney bragged, before heading back to the kitchen, throwing a last bit of pride over her shoulder. “Free shipping with orders over $20.”

“You simply got to see what they have done with the baby’s room. We made an entire episode on it for our vlog interior decorating series.”

Jazz gave a crooked smile. “That is upstairs, right?”

“Okay. So I’ll have one of them go upstairs with a video camera and we can both watch it down here.”

“That could work.”

“Always make them do the work.” Elisa stretched a bit. “I could get used to this.”

“No, you won’t.”

“No, I won’t.” Elisa face looked sad and serious as she rubbed her belly, before sneaking a peek up at Jazz with sparkling brown eyes.

Courtney and Neil found them laughing with tears running down their cheeks when the couple brought the food trays out.

A to Z Short Story List Breakdown

Rainbow Spectrum (A to F)

Editing Rant: Marketability

April 9, 2019April 24, 2024 Erin Penn

Image acquired from the Interweb

When it just isn’t good enough

Just finished up on the Red Mug series of flashes; last one will post this Sunday. The first flash was the simple, normal story based on the picture. The followups all basically gelled the same day after I got the Red Mug on electronic paper. Normally I wouldn’t have put them down, but tax season had some downtime and I am practicing writing longer. Therefore I took an hour here and there to flesh things out.

Why would I normally not have continued the story? Well, it’s kind-of boring. The story is straightforward, the characters normal, and things just happen in normal order. The humor isn’t strong, and the storyline has huge jumps in time. It is not marketable as-is.

Many of my flashes have continued down paths during commutes or long drives, still more laying awake in bed or mowing the lawn. Most never get written because they don’t work.

But 5,000 words! Really, really written. All complete and bow-tied. (bouncing writer side)

That’s nice. (droll editor side)

As a slush reader, I have had to reject works of 100 K or more and feel absolutely horrible doing so, but not marketable is not marketable. Red Mug’s (and related flashes) is boring at the wide-range appeal level, has little description, and is clearly flash – needing (desperately) to expand out description, flesh out characters, and add action.

How could I workshop this story to make it into something that is marketable? (Please note, I don’t think the combined stories are worth this effort – but the skill set could be useful when looking at other stories.)

First off, right now it is a contemporary romance. What thread are in the story already available for expansion?

Third person omniscient isn’t working well (yes, it does slip on occasion – after all, first draft flash – but does mostly stick to the omniscient). As a romance, we need to dig down into the emotional development – and that means getting inside the characters’ heads more. Changing the story to either first person Jeffrey or third-person close, switching between Jeffrey and Amanda would be good. Once closer in, we have a few paths of additional development available.

Now where are cool bits to play with? Jeffrey and Amanda are a mixed race couple, they also have a significant age difference, family-style difference, and a work environment issue. Exploring how Jeffrey feels about dating a white person, and how his army family reacts is an option. Running into how Jeffrey’s mid-twenties and Amanda’s early forties plays out could be fun too. The long-distance relationship adds another aspect open to expansion. And how about how Amanda’s work is impacted by her pregnancy – both the reactions of her European counterparts and her American superiors? All of these could add thousands of words and take this from a simple story to a more complicated character development arc. Oh, and focusing on why Amanda doesn’t want love could really take the story to the next level.

Plus all of these additional bits could fill in the time jump issues between the already crafted scenes.

Still, I am better at writing genre fiction than straight contemporary. What subgenres could be added to the romance? These are more worldbuilding choices than character development or plot points. Sticking them will double description quickly and add plenty of action.

I could kick up the erotica aspect a notch or two; even the opening flash doesn’t delve deeply. At the moment the story is more “closed door” then bouncing bed.

The story could be changed to a science fiction – where the two characters work for an ore mining company and she operates the Orts Cloud while Jeffrey works in the traditional headquarters in the asteroid belt – exploring the long distant relationship against this background would make things more interesting. Location, location, location.

Another option is play with the “you are a god” aspect, changing this to an urban fantasy with Jeffrey discovering he actually is related to a god or gaining a god’s powers through no fault of his own. Maybe have Amanda gain Slavic god-like powers to his American-based aspects.

A thriller could work too – make this into a Die-Hard-style story; Jeffrey does come from an army family, though he is a nerd. During the crawl through the duct system or up an elevator shaft, the readers get exposed to Jeffrey’s and Amanda’s relationship as it develops over time. I’ll be able to keep all the already written scenes, and I don’t have to worry about the time jumps as he (or she) reminisces while going to rescue the family. Quick skeleton fix.

Maybe a mystery, with something happening at the company – people dying, getting fired, moving people around to different locations, a break-in – and have the pair solve it while falling in love.

The story could even be mixed and matched – maybe one or both of them gaining powers during the thriller of Die Hard-style, all the while, of course, never forgetting the story is actual a romance and the main plot is Amanda releasing her fear of falling in love – from Jeffrey’s first person point-of-view (POV).

The story as-is isn’t complicated enough to warrant real publication. But by adding a few “non-standard” pieces to the work, weaving in a secondary emotional development plot, and tacking on an action piece, suddenly the story becomes enough.

Am I going to do this? Nah, that was never “their” story. But they are here in my universe world, and they have a fully developed backstory, so they may show up in another tale as supporting characters where I don’t want just a generic couple with a couple of kids. These two already have had the breath of life breathed on their clay. And that is cool too.

The complete Red Mug series:
3/17/19 – Red Mug
3/24/19 – Green Cheeks
3/31/19 – Copenhagen Blue
4/7/19 – Clear Glass
4/14/19 – Gold Bands

H is for Horse

April 9, 2019April 24, 2024 Erin Penn

Jazz shoved the wrapping paper off the table and onto the floor to deal with a day she wasn’t conserving every bit of energy she had, then dropped the rattle and oversize plastic key ring into the lime green bag. She had wanted the toy to be properly wrapped, but that wasn’t going to happen. The bag will have to be enough.

Sitting down she reached for the food she set up so she always had at least one meal to eat every day without the effort of cooking. Pulling out a bar and breaking off a juice bottle, she opened both and ate slowly. Chewing was exhausting but necessary. It released tension in her jaw which built up overnight fighting for sleep. After finishing, Jazz took her phone out and put it on the charging bed on the table and started the connections for social media. Waiting for them to come up, she reached for her pill box and stared at it a while before snapping open Saturday.

She transferred the afternoon pills to a small bottle to take with her to the party and put the bottle beside the bag with the present. After that she took out the two horse pills and swallowed them with a gulp of grape juice. Jazz pulled the final pill out of the box for the day. Her pain pill.

Her medical coverage and disability did not cover all her bills and so she skimped on some medication. The depressant prescription to take before bed to help with sleeping cost the most, so she lived without that. Beside the side effect required a stimulant in the morning, and something to control her heart arrhythmia from the stimulant. The one week she took the depressant, she hadn’t made it out of bed until three in the afternoon a single day.

The pain pill in her hand was the secondary pain controller. She took the one which controlled the flares religiously, but this one reduced the pain in the joints. Unfortunately it was new and had no generic equivalent and the company maxed out its charity offerings before it hit the statistic group she fell into. The little pink capsule cost nearly as much per pill as the depressant and, for best effect, she needed to take it every eight hours, three times per day. She could afford once every two days. The question was when would be the best time to take it today.

If she took it now, she could easily drive to the Elisa’s baby shower, but it will wear off before she drove home. If she took it during the baby shower, she’ll be loopy for the first hour around a bunch of strangers and she didn’t want to embarrass her high school buddy like that. On the other hand, she might need it tomorrow to function after pushing herself all day today. In the end, it wasn’t really a question. She needed to be able to drive safely there. Taking it now, waiting the fifteen minutes for the pill and breakfast to stop taking all the blood in her system and start giving her energy, then waiting the additional hour for the loopy to wear off, she would be good to drive the twenty minutes to her friend’s house and get there for the start of the party at one. She stuck it on her tongue and washed the sour tasting pill down.

Looking at her phone, she sighed and then activated the lockout app. The pink pain pill made her drunk text. She put her arms and head on the table and waited for the lockout alarm to go off. Jazz supposed she could attempt her hair, jewelry, and makeup stoned out of her gourd, but she would need to do it all over again afterwards.

The alarm woke her. Cracking her neck, Jazz felt a lingering pain behind the drugged wall, but it didn’t touch her thinking. If she didn’t need the rest of her medications to actually live, she would fill that prescription happily even with the stoner and addictive side effects. Picking up her cane, she walked quickly to the makeup table in her bathroom and set to making everything perfect. Only an hour left before she needed to go out the door.

A to Z Short Story List Breakdown

Rainbow Spectrum (A to F)

G is for Gobi

April 8, 2019April 24, 2024 Erin Penn

The alarm going off like the final bell in a cage match brought her nightly ten rounds fighting with insomnia to an end. Jazz congratulated herself on not sagging on the ropes at 3:00 and picking up her phone to surf social media. By avoiding the glowing screen of uselessness, she managed at least two dream cycles, so at least three hours of actual sleep in the last ten hours. Sure, she was exhausted, a perpetual state, but her eyes did not feel like someone had crammed the Gobi desert into her orbs.

She swiped the phone off before her wake up song repeated, the Good Morning Song from Barney and Friends, guaranteed to drive her to sit up and move. Swinging her legs over the side of the bed, Jazz reached for her stabilizing quad-cane. She hated it as much as her morning alarm, but it served its purpose. While it took as much energy to use as walking without it, she hadn’t fallen once since she started using it around the house. She just never expected to be cane-bound at thirty-four, let alone needed the stupid push chair-walker anytime she left the house.

The insurance wouldn’t sign off on a scooter yet, and she didn’t know if she was grateful or angry about that.

Jazz hobbled over to where she had laid out clothes two days ago. Today was a big day, and she wanted it to be perfect. Ignoring the pain in her joints, she pulled off the oversized t-shirt she had slept in and lived in since she got home from shopping Tuesday. Leaning on the ladder chair beside her clothes table, she changed underwear without fully sitting down. After tucking her phone under her bra strap, she rested under the guise of studying the two choices she had set out for shirts.

One had buttons and fit her perfectly. The other was overlarge but slipped over her head in one move. Jazz tested her range of motion. Her fingers didn’t flex well, but she was able to raise one arm to shoulder height. Loose black blouse would be today’s outfit; she had hoped on Thursday for the button-down. She hadn’t be able to wear the turquoise embroidered linen in over a year. She should probably give up on it and donate it to Goodwill or the Kidney Foundation before it went completely out of fashion, but she loved that shirt.

The black skirt pulled on easier than the blouse, after which she sat on the tall step stool and recovered, going over what else she needed to get done before noon. Hair, make-up, jewelry, breakfast, charge phone, wrap a present. She had meant to get the present wrapped yesterday but a pain flare had ended the attempt.

Hair next. No, breakfast first. If she didn’t get to her hair, she could still go, but no breakfast will kill the entire day.

Jazz looked over at the breakfast bar and drink she kept on her nightstand for those days she couldn’t make it out of bed. Gritting her teeth, she stood, turned her back on the bed and room she spent too much time in, and went to her breakfast nook to eat like a civilized person.

On the blond wood table, bright in mid-morning sunshine, stood a box of blueberry breakfast bars, small plastic bottles of grape juice, and her box of pills for the week. The first week box for the month was behind the used drink bottles and breakfast bar wrappers waiting for her once-every-two weeks visit from the state subsidized care-giver to refill since her fingers couldn’t manage organizing pills anymore. In the middle of the table was the result of her struggle to wrap the baby shower present with real paper before the pain had disabled her.

A to Z Short Story List Breakdown

Rainbow Spectrum (A to F)