From Sarah, With Joy

*Poet * Author * Wanderluster*

Monday, April 25, 2016

To Do and an Agent Spotlight


To Do

If A, then be
ready to run
run three miles up
hill. Three o'clock check up
don't forget.
Get milk, bread, honey
I'm home at night
almost never. Never leave
cereal in the sink
milk in the bowl
bowl of water for the dog
bowling at seven, he'll be home
late. Better never than
one too many
baby needs a bath.
Home is where the rear view
mirrors are. Step on
the gas, the breaks.
Drive A to B and B to C
and if you don't see,
then are you anywhere?

***

Writing Prompt: Pick your favorite villain. What would their daily To-Do list look like?

Agent Spotlight: Ryann Wahl seeks upmarket literary fiction and YA.

Read More: Check out this great post from Writers Digest about writing characters of a different gender than you.

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Monday, April 18, 2016

Slight of Hand and a Steampunk Anthology


Slight of Hand

This is the trick his dad made. This is the card that ends the trick his dad made. This is the queen that’s on the card that ends the trick his dad made. This is the spade held by the queen that’s on the card that ends the trick his dad made. This is the grave dug by the spade held by the queen that’s on the card that ends the trick his dad made. Gone are the bones inside the grave dug by the spade held by the queen that’s on the card that ends the trick his dad made.

***

Writing Prompt: You buy a pack of cards at a gas station. When you open it later that night, you find something written on the last card. What does it say?

Call for Submissions: Interested in submitting to a Steam-Punk anthology? Check this one out. Deadline is June 1st, so you have time to prepare your best work!

Read More: Check out this great overview of how writers can use social media on the great blog Social Media Just for Writers.

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Monday, April 11, 2016

Strings On Me and a Children's Agent


Strings On Me

When Gep woke from the dream, he could still see the giant leviathan bearing down on him when he closed his eyes. He reached his hand over and felt the cold half of the bed. He wondered if, tonight, his wife was also dreaming of monsters.

He looked at his clock but it confused him. Time didn't make sense anymore. It had been three weeks since it happened. Two weeks since the funeral. One week since he'd found the empty pill bottle and taken his wife to the hospital to have her stomach drained. He didn't know when she would be back.

He could feel the waves of what had happened cresting inside of him, and he sat up in bed in an attempt to keep from drowning. It didn't help much, and he rocked back and forth until he was afraid he was going to rock himself to pieces, and he stood up and paced the floor and ended up in the hallway, walking past the bathroom, toward the door of the other bedroom that hadn't been opened in days.

Hadn't been opened in three weeks.

The dream was overwhelming him, and he knew he had to see the empty room with his own eyes or he might start going crazy. He pushed open the door.

Moonlight streamed through the window, illuminating toys that hadn't been put away, and the small, empty wooden bed. It was as if the moon was mocking him. There were too many empty beds in this house.

What was it his son had said to him? In the dream? Maybe the dream was the first step toward madness, but he couldn't bare to let it slip away. His sternum ached like someone had hammered nails into it. It had for several days now.

Without really intending to, he lay himself across the pale blue sheets and settled his face into the pillow. It smelled of bubblegum toothpaste and M&Ms and the peculiar little boy dirt, and Gep knew that this smell would be what killed him.

In his dream he'd escaped the leviathan, holding the boy in his arms. He could still feel the wait of him. He could still feel the dent in the skull where the bumper had made contact.

When he finally began drifting off, the smell and moonlight pouring into him like chloroform, he heard an echo of the boys voice. "Papa," the dream had said. "Papa. I want to be a real boy."

***

Writing Prompt: If you were to write about a secondary character from any fairy-tale, who would you pick?

Agent Spotlight: Check out this Literary Rambles spotlight for more information on a great children's agent.

Read More: 7 Resources to Make You a Better Writer from The Write Practice

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Monday, April 4, 2016

Shared Differences and a Call for Submissions



Shared Differences

He said, take this watermelon.
It is something we have in common.
Hold the gnawed rind up to your face
like a smile.
I said, I take thee, smile,
for mine own.
That's right, he said. That's right.
I said, I take thee, stadium lights
I take thee, sidewalk crack
I take thee, plutonium core
of a hydrogen bomb.
Then he and I and all of us
smiled a mushroom cloud
and when the smoke cleared, we all
turned to our neighbor and said
Here, take this face.
It is something we have in common.

***

Writing Prompt: Finish this sentence (and share in comments so we can see your genius!)
My toothbrush is red. This is the most important thing you need to know about me because_____________________________.
Call for Submissions: Funny in Five Hundred is looking for flash humor pieces. Try your hand!

Read More: Check out Anne R. Allen's great post this week on keeping an open mind and teachable heart so we don't get caught in our own flawed perspectives as writers.

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