Launching the OVERCOMING ADVERSITY anthology!

Back in early February, a bunch of bloggers including myself participated in Nick Wilford's Overcoming Adversity bloghop. My little flash fiction piece "An End" is featured in the anthology, and I'm honoured to be included alongside such a great bunch of writers/bloggers, and to be helping out such a great cause. But for now I'll shut up and let Nick do the talking!

Cover art design by D.R. Cartwright.
Cover art concept by Ella Wilson.

[Overcoming Adversity is] a collection of seventy moving and uplifting original pieces - real life, flash fiction, and poetry - about battling against the odds and the ultimate triumph of the human spirit. The contributors include Amazon bestselling authors Alex J. Cavanaugh and Kyra Lennon, and the cream of upcoming talent.

The anthology is part of a fundraising effort to send the editor's stepson, Andrew McNaughton, to a specialist college in England. Andrew has cerebral palsy, and is a remarkable young man with a promising future. However, the free further education options offered in his own country of Scotland will not challenge him and allow him to progress. In order to access the education he deserves, Andrew will have to pay exorbitant fees, thus creating a situation of discrimination.

Help us get Andrew to college by buying a book that runs the full gamut of human emotions, ultimately leaving you inspired and glad to be alive. Whatever struggles you are going through, our sincere hope is that this book will help.

Purchase the Anthology:
Amazon UK
Amazon US
Smashwords
+ add on Goodreads

Nick Wilford is a writer and stay-at-home dad. Once a journalist, he now makes use of those rare times when the house is quiet to explore the realms of fiction. When not writing he can usually be found spending time with his family or cleaning something.

He has four short stories published in Writer’s Muse magazine. Nick is also co-running a campaign to get a dedicated specialist college built in Scotland. Visit him at http://nickwilford.blogspot.co.uk/.

The Overcoming Adversity bloghop

Today is the first day of Nick Wilford's Overcoming Adversity Blog Hop, which aims to raise money for a very worthy cause. Check out Nick's blog for more details. Meanwhile, here is my little flash fiction piece about a gal who is determined to overcome any adversary (even Death) to achieve her end goal! According to Scrivener it's 489 words long.

Meri stares at the ceiling a lot. It helps distract her from the pain. The healer tends to her, but there are others much more badly wounded and the healer has set his priorities straight. It helps that she’s given up fighting him. He trusts her to stay put. 

She’s counting on it. 

Time passes and the fussing lessens. Soon enough it’ll cease completely, and Meri will be left to her much-needed rest. 

Seconds tick away and she grits her teeth. 

~*~*~ 

Cries echo down the hall—they’re admitting a new group of wounded. Meri draws a deep breath, folds the sheet back and slides gingerly off the bed. She pads to the door and peeks out. All clear. Back in the room she closes her eyes, expands her focus and summons the magic. 

It floods her, swelling each strand of pain to a glowing hot red. It fills her with a new strength. 

It hums and blossoms outward, covering everything. 

Meri’s eyes snap open. She creates a portal and steps through it. 

She enters chaos.

Cheers, Cavanaugh! (and my blogiversary contest winners)

Wahooo, it's AlexFest time!! AlexFest is hosted by Mark Koopmans, Morgan Shamy, David Powers King and Stephen Tremp. It lasts from December 10-12, and is going to be SO much fun.

This 'fest requires that we answer 4 questions. My answers are below:

In +/- 20 words, what does Alex look like?
I imagine him with some really cool shades and a slicked-back hairdo, since ya know, he's a bit of a rock star around the blogosphere. ;)

In +/- 20 words, who could play Alex in a documentary? (Living or dead.)
For some reason the first name that popped into my head was Joss Whedon. haha

In +/- 20 words, who does Alex remind you of?
He reminds me of Alex J. Cavanaugh, this legendary blogger dude I heard about once...!

In +/- 100 words, (excluding the title) write flash fiction using all these prompts:

The ninja melted shadow-like into Cavanaugh's Bar and Restaurant, seeking the fiend who had stolen the greatest of treasures from him. He flicked his eyes around the room and quickly spotted his quarry. Moving more languidly than any cat, he made his way over to Mr Jon Cosbolt's table and spoke these dramatic words:

"Hhhhhello. My name is Alex. You kill my guitar. Prepare to die!"

Mr Jon Cosbolt was almost ready to laugh at what he took for a joke when the ninja launched his attack, moving faster than lightning in a blur of deadly hands and feet.

The last word uttered by the heinous destroyer of stringed instruments, Mr. Jon Cosbolt, was an involuntary "IWSG!" and then it was all over. In the wake of his vengeance, the ninja slid away into the night, never to be seen in that part of town again.

And that's my contribution! ;) Happy 'fest day Alex!!

---

Back on December 2-3, I hosted my very first blogfest in honour of my 2-year blogiversary. I want to say a huge THANKS to everyone who participated! It was so much fun seeing you as babies/toddlers, and/or hearing stories from your younger days. But I'm here today to announce the winners of the giveaway I hosted also on December 2. To remind you, the prizes were:

1. 1st prize - a book from my selection, or one of your own choice, from Book Depository (value = $10)
2. 2nd prize - any eBook(s) written by our author friends who commented on the post (value = $5)
3. 3rd prize - an ebook of your choice (value = $3).

So, without further ado, here are the winners, randomly picked by an internet number generator:

1. 1st prize - Judie
2. 2nd prize - C. Lee McKenzie
3. 3rd prize - Jeff Hargett

Congrats to all the winners!! Please contact me via email (you can find my email in the "Find Me" part of my side bar) with your choices of book and details (including a postal address if you want a Christmas card!).

Spooktoberfest is here! (feat. flash fiction)

Woohoo!! Fun times are afoot today, because it's the start of the Spooktoberfest blogfest, hosted by Jackie Felger and Dani Bertrand. The aim of this game is to write a piece of flash fiction (300 words or less) that contains the following 5 words:

cobweb(s), cauldron(s), jack-o-latern(s), ghost(s), razor(s)

For more info, check out the link above! There is a really cool prize for the winner, too, and it's international!

Anyway, here is my entry, which according to Microsoft Word is 296 words long:

Ghosts of annoying lovers past assault me as I step out into the steamy cauldron of a spring day in Perth, head pounding with a nauseating hangover. Puffy white clouds leer at me like jack-o-lanterns from overhead and I glower to show the world just what I think. 

Why is it always me who has to do the walk of shame? Why don’t these one night stands ever happen at my place? And why must I always be the ultimate cliché and lose a shoe somewhere along the way? 

I hobble gingerly along a weedy garden path to the front gate and push through it, crying out in pain as a stray bit of wire digs its razor-blade sharpness into my right love handle. I take a moment, closing my eyes and drawing deep breaths to clear the cobwebs from my mind. And to try to unclench this damn jaw. ‘Cause this is no way to start off a day. 

Suddenly a high-pitched voice calls out from a short distance away—a horribly familiar voice: “Martha? Is that you?!” 

I open my eyes and no, I haven’t imagined it—that really is my mother across the street, squinting at me in confusion then disbelief. Frantically I look around for a street sign and find one. Dread flowers inside me as I realise why last night’s conquest looked so familiar. Mum’s best friend’s son really has grown into a hottie. But now I know he lives across the road from his mother—directly across the road—and if his bad morning breath wasn’t a deal breaker, this totally is. 

“Martha! I don’t believe it.” Mum’s completely scandalised. “Why are you— How— Where is your shoe?” 

Fitting, really, that today is October 31^st. Halloween has never been scarier.

First Campaigner Challenge!

Yes, I surely am! And it's time for the First Campaigner Challenge. Dude, sometimes it's not easy saying 'campaign' instead of 'crusade', but I'm doing my best to get used to it! Anyway, the challenge involves the following: Write a short story/flash fiction story in 200 words or less, excluding the title. It can be in any format, including a poem. Begin the story with the words, “The door swung open” These four words will be included in the word count.

If you want to give yourself an added challenge (optional), use the same beginning words and end with the words: "the door swung shut." (also included in the word count)

For those who want an even greater challenge, make your story 200 words EXACTLY!

Now, before anyone leaps upon my post accusing me of being a liar, my story is precisely 200 words...in Scrivener. I don't know what it is in your word processor, but I have no doubt at all it's either over or under 200 words. But I SWEAR to you that Scrivener tells me 200. So, without further ado, here's my little ditty, all glorious 200 words (and by glorious I mean forced and unpolished and all that stuff, yeah):

---

The door swung open and Elsie staggered through, crystal glass flying from her hand. Bennett's heart stuttered then swelled. Elsie hit the ground seconds before her glass. The crystal came apart as if in slow motion, glittering shards spraying out. Mother and father care more about the family crystal than they do a human life, he thought. But now wasn't the time for bitterness.

It was time for Elsie.

She was all he cared about. And she was here, alive. With him.

"Elsie! Oh God, I thought— I thought they'd…"

Bennett trailed off, staring at her still form. She hadn't stirred since landing, and she lay so still. Too still. Fighting back fear, he sank to his knees beside her and reached out a hand, scared but compelled to touch her. "Elsie?" He gripped her shoulder and shook her, first lightly, then harder. "Elsie?"

Then he saw the dark tide of crimson pooling beneath her, and he knew. They'd got to her after all.

"Oh, how sweet," came his mother's voice behind him. "You two, together at the end." He looked up into her haggard, bitter face, and knew it really was the end. Behind them, the door swung shut.

Crusader Challenge TWO!

Okay, so I'm finally getting around to posting my entry for the 2nd Crusader challenge (click on the picture above for more info!). The instructions were:

"Write a flash fiction story (in any format) in 100 words or less, excluding the title. Begin the story with the words, “The goldfish bowl teetered” These four words will be included in the word count." - Rachael Harrie

And here is my entry, which Word tells me is exactly 100 words!

The goldfish bowl teetered in Ashley’s mind, and she drew a sharp breath and waited.

“What’s with you?” Don frowned, leaning close to peer into her face.

“My life’s about to shatter,” she whispered. “The goldfish bowl is gonna fall, and the goldfish will flop around on the floor. I don’t know if I’ll get to it in time.”

Donald’s eyes widened. “What goldfish bowl?”

“The goldfish bowl of my life.”

After a brief hesitation, Donald got to his feet, backing slowly away. “Hey...on second thoughts, maybe this wasn’t such a good idea...”

And he walked out, ending the date.

Hone Your Skills Blogfest!

Another blogfest?! Why yes, since you asked. Today it's time for the Hone Your Skills Blogfest, hosted by RosieC and Charity Bradford (click the picture above to find out more)!

The blogfests requires the following of participants:

1. On March 16, post a short story around 750 words, no more than 1000, in any genre you like.
2. Read and give a critique for the person before and after you in the Linky List (and as many others as you can/want to). When you critique: a) find at least two things that really work, and b) at least two suggestions for how it can be tightened or improved.
3. (Optional) When you post on March 16, list one or two (online) journals where you plan to submit your piece after making revisions. - RosieC
   

For my story's genre, I'm really not sure - maybe you can be the judge! I don't think I will ever seek publication for this. I just consider it another writing exercise. And I do love to practice accepting horribly brutal critique with good grace. :D So have at it!

Oh, and the word count is 761, according to Word (p.s. It was originally posted here on my FictionPress account).

Newsreaders' Blues

Asynja Dharmo tried not to grind her teeth, but her efforts were in vain for the most part. She had been trying for the entire morning since her alarm went off in her ear to keep her cool, yet it seemed the early mornings, the lack of pay raise, the snooty attitudes of her co-workers and her lack of a photocopy girl to bring her coffee in the studio were all adding up against her. She had had it up to here.

"Synje, you're on in ten," Mark called from his spot beside Carlotta – oh, he thought he was so damn important. He was trying to get in her good graces after last week's debacle. Asynja thought snidely – and happily – that he wasn't making much progress at all. I hope he rots in the back of her paddy wagon, she thought as she purposefully ignored his comment. As if I didn't know I was on in ten, you fucking moron.

The last few minutes always went by slowly, and also as usual they brought Asynja's stress levels through the roof. At least she had her welcoming smile firmly plastered on – and from their seats on the couches in their living rooms, viewers wouldn't notice the sheen of sweat that coated her forehead. They wouldn't notice what she was not telling them either – they were all as stupid as the next person, if the nightly opinion polls could be believed.

"Seven minutes," Abigail called from her little corner of the room, causing Asynja to begin fiddling with her pen again. She slammed it a little too firmly down onto the desk's surface and tried not to look directly at the cameras – yet. Doing that before the time came to start speaking always freaked her out. She focused instead on what she'd buy for dinner tonight – not only what kind of wine would go with it. Eating alone could be a bummer but when it was really great food and a quality drop, Asynja found herself easily comforted.

Tonight's list of items to be reported included a vicious rape, a cowardly attack, a grotesque act of terrorism, a valiant shower of counter terrorism, and a small kitten rescued from a drainpipe. The cowardly attack came first, then the grotesque act of terrorism – which would of course be followed by the valiant shower of counter terrorism. The kitten story, of course, came second-to-last. She had to watch how she switched from sombre-faced to cheerfully amused – sometimes, she'd been told, she left it a little too late, so that she was looking almost happy while delivering the tail end of the latest tale of death and destruction. It was really a tough job she had – tough but satisfactorily challenging. She wouldn't have it any other way, except for a large raise and better air-conditioning – oh, and more vacation time.

"Three minutes and counting!" Mark yelled, and Asynja was startled back to reality realising that he had moved positions. Either he had moved or Carlotta had moved him. Either way he was glancing importantly at his watch and glancing this way and that, acting as if he actually knew what was going on, or what should be going on, and was the grand overseer of the entire production.

Production might seem an odd word to use for the evening news program, but since beginning her first stint as an amateur newsreader Asynja had learned that production it was indeed. The make-up on her face wasn't the only part of the show that aimed at concealing and distorting reality. But that wasn't her concern – her only concern was to do her job and do it well, better, to secure that raise. Bloody Mark Davenport had stolen her last one, and she'd sooner stab him in the back than let him do it again.

"Thirty seconds," Anabella cried, and several people looked at her in surprise – since when had she earned the right to call times? Asynja supposed even Anabella was wondering that now that everybody had begun giving her the evil eye. It didn't matter anyway. There were more important things to think about right now.

"Eight seconds," Brodie yelled, and then began counting down on his fingers for Asynja's and other crewmembers' benefit. If one could call it a benefit: it was more distracting than anything.

Asynja cleared her throat as she always did and at the precise moment, looked right at the cameras, saying, "And I'm Asynja Dharmo. Welcome to Channel Eight News Tonight." She donned her serious look and leaned closer to the camera.

Race to 200 Blogfest - I'm a finalist :)

I'm very honoured to have been chosen as one of the finalists in J.C. Martin's Race to 200 Blogfest. The other finalists all wrote great stories too - you can vote for your choice HERE.

J.C. was assisted in deciding the finalists by Genna Sarnak @ Reading, Writing, & the World of Words, and I wanted to share what Genna had to say about my entry for the contest:

“Trisha manages to not only create a likeable character in 649 words, she’s written a short-short story that’s able to stand alone! I am very impressed with the ease and naturalness of her dialogue, and the slang certainly contributes to this. The story hits very close to home to me on a personal level, as I, like John, have known many a ‘dickhead’ in my lifetime. The action was very exciting, and the writing is strong in that each detail adds to the progression of the race.”

So I just wanted to thank Genna for her kind words, and J.C. Martin for hosting this awesome blogfest! :D

Race to 200 Blogfest!

Before I get onto the actual blogfest, I want to mention that my query for NAUSICAA was featured in Evil Editor's blog, HERE...and by "featured", I of course mean put through the Evil Editor and cronies blender. ;)

I also want to mention this great recap of the latest WriteOnCon chat, written up by L.J. Boldyrev at Sisters in Scribe!

Okay, now onto the actual point of this entry!

It's time for the Race to 200 Blogfest (click on the image to find out more), and here is what's required:

"Write a story/excerpt (no more than 750 words long) about a race of some sort. It could be an actual race. Or a race for survival. Even a race against time. Be creative!" - J.C. Martin

And without further ado, here is my entry! :D According to Word, it's 649 words!

Pansy

Brendan was a dick. Everybody knew it, but it seemed he wasn't satisfied with everybody knowing—he wanted to show them.

Not that he hadn’t done so plenty of times before. But this time was different.

John was sitting in his car in the left lane, staring fixedly at the glowing red traffic light. It cast its warm light across the intersection. He saw the faint hue of the green light for the crossing street, but he saw no more than that. It didn’t have much impact on the red. Beyond the lights was a t-junction.

He was trying his best to ignore Brendan and his absolutely dicky friends in the next lane, their lime green Ford Falcon chugging away like a race car. But it was hard to ignore their booming voices. And their stinking exhaust. They’d turned their music down, presumably so they could hear themselves better. Or maybe so John could hear them. How considerate. Usually John would have turned his music way up, to drown it all out. But his speakers were messed up and silence was preferable to the painful buzz-crackle they emitted.

Usually, it was preferable.

He was wondering if time to embrace it, just so he could drown in noise and pretend Brendan didn’t exist. It was always nice when he could pretend that.

“Oy, pansy, what’s it gonna be?!”

Brendan’s voice rang through the night. John clenched his jaw and drummed his fingers on the steering wheel, willing that red traffic light to turn eerie green. The red seemed to mock him, saying, Nah, we’re gonna sit on this a while, see how much you can take.

“I think he’s deaf, ay!” Brendan’s cousin Larry hooted. “Or wait, I know what it is—he’s got a crush on you mate!” And the laughter was deafening.

John swore to himself he was getting his stereo fixed first thing in the morning. He’d been putting it off, saving for a new car, but he wouldn’t be ready for that for months—and he couldn’t stand another night like this. The kind of night you couldn’t drown out in music.

“PANSY, PANSY, PANSY...!” The chant wore on, and John daydreamed of running the red light.

And then that red light was green. Both cars sat in their lanes, not moving.

John had been here before. It was better to let Brendan tear off, so you weren’t in danger of getting in his way. Getting in his way could mean being run off the road. John had been here before. But Brendan wasn’t moving.

“What, you don’t wanna race me?!”

John gave no answer.

“Hey dude,” Brendan said to somebody else in his car, “why don’t you get out and hop in the pansy’s car? He can show you a good time!”

Much more hooting laughter, and John imagined that maybe Brendan’s car was rocking with it. Then one of the doors opened, and John knew it was time to act. The light was still green, but it could turn amber at any moment. He pressed his foot down on the accelerator, hearing a door slam and a bunch of dicks shouting. He was rounding the corner, resisting the urge to start speeding. Then he heard squealing tyres and the lime green beast flashed past, cutting in front of him.

He leaped on the brakes and his car shuddered to a stop, giving himself mini-whiplash. Then he looked up, through the windscreen, and saw Brendan’s car half stuck into the embankment of the t-junction. Steam rose from the bonnet, hissing in the night.

With zombie-like motions John took out his mobile phone and dialled triple zero.

“Emergency, how may I direct your call?”

“Um... Yeah. Some dicks just had a car crash.”

“All right then. What is your location?”

Flash fiction competition

I thought, Why the hell not! and entered this competition. Here is my entry.

Trying to download the new version of Scrivener, have tried twice now, but nothing appears to be happening. I'm not asked to pay the $25.00, and each time I complete the download it says it's going to install it and restart, but then when I restart (manually since it doesn't restart by itself) I'm back at square 1 with the notification that the new version is available. Hmm...yeah. I'm gonna check out their site & try and do it from there.

Meanwhile, got my SUNDOWN wordcount down to 129,461 today - in Scrivener, so it will be even less in MS Word. And merged 2 chapters into 1 after making one of them a lot skinnier. I now have 51 chapters. In the chapter I skinnified, I found parts that bored even me. When your own writing bores you, you know it has to go. Hehe.

Anyway, that's today's update.