Writing. It Never Ends.

While we wait for our regularly scheduled toy interview, I wanted to share a bit of stuff with those who were interested. In the last few months I mentioned a few projects here and there that I was a part of. One of them turned out to be my guest spot on Nerd Lunch. For those who gave it a listen I greatly thank you. I am truly proud of having that opportunity and I hope it was a fun experience for you all.

Part of that podcast involved the writing of some fan fiction. Without giving away any spoiler alerts, I did write a fan fiction story that was a bit of a sequel to Adora's Search for Honor. For those just tuning in, Adora's Search for Honor was that epic three part She-Ra story I wrote with a new chapter being posted on every Saturday (dubbed She-Ra Saturdays.)

Since that story ended with one big cliffhanger, it was only natural that I would revisit that story. And revisit it I did! More like a light short story between larger stories, this piece I wrote for the podcast was entitled Adora and the Golden Book and it picks up right where the last story ended. It is of course filled with references to various forms of She-Ra lore as well as my own spin for how I feel a She-Ra story should go. It also melds not only the world of She-Ra, but also the world of Golden Girl, the toy line that shared many similarities with the princess of power. I have the first few chapters already posted, and you can read them here. Or, you can also wait as I am debating about posting them here and bringing back She-Ra Saturdays for those who enjoyed it. I don't know that it will be every Saturday as I have been incredibly swamped lately. Being swamped is a good thing though because without all my busy-bodiness I'd be in a world of 'ugh' and 'eff my life.' So check it out if you are interested and/or bored and need something to glaze over at. The link is right here.

There were other things I was involved with too! Some of you may recall that last year in the spring I lost my job. I was jobless for a scary stretch of time. Really scary. I was applying and interviewing like crazy, trying my hand at all kinds of jobs. One thing I also ended up doing was joining a site called Elance, which is a very interesting site for freelance writers looking to get hired for a variety of writing skills. So after applying and providing work for a few people (and having that work get turned down) I did manage to get hired for a job writing a short fiction story. This story was short! And I only had about a week to get it together.

So I used an idea I had when I was younger to craft a murder mystery story and I typed it up as fast as I could. I don't know how I was able to do that. The story is not one of my favorites and I wish there had been a longer amount of time to really create a lovely piece, but I just did not have that kind of time.

After the story was finished, turned in, and I was paid for my work I figured that would be the last I'd hear of the person who hired me. Until a couple months ago when the contractor contacted me to tell me that the website was up and my story was currently ranked at number one and that the contractor was interested in other possible work. Needless to say I was freaking out, only one must remember: being ranked as number one is all relative. I was thinking there was some chatter about my story, but there wasn't much. There were only six views on the story and I am not even sure people had read it. (Which isn't a bad thing because I feel like I could have done much better on the story.)

Either way I am unsure what to make of this creative writing web site that contracted me. I created a profile but I am never able to log in. (The login process says I am not a member when I know I am.) The name of the website is Newbbay, which sounds like newbie when said really fast, so I just have no clue how legitimate this site actually is. I can't tell if the site is being a celebration for new writers or if it is being snarky towards "newb" writers. Or maybe I'm just a touch cynical and mistrustful of the world around me. I will try to work on something better though to submit and see if people have anything to say about it. At the very least, I don't mind getting hired for something else.

One last thing I wanted to share with you all involves the short short story contest I entered back in the fall. Some of you wanted me to keep things up to date. Well... I did not win the short short story contest. However I am very thrilled that I got the chance to participate in this contest. I got to send something for consideration and now that I know the fate of that item, I can now share it for those who were interested in reading!

So let me set up the premise for this short short story. (It had to be less than 1500 words.) I have mentioned that before the Diary I had a whole other blog ages ago called I Know Something. It was a hodge podge blog that saw me sharing my rants about the world, my distressed love lives (seriously, I always say the only difference between Elizabeth Taylor and me was that she got all the jewels) and there was plenty of dorky talk what with my views on She-Ra and those chilling Night of the Living Roach stories. So this short short story I submitted was from that old blog and I just touched it up a little for the contest. It is super short and I hope you enjoy!

The Path to Love

            “Get off my car!” I’m talking loudly and fairly certain that I’m expressing ‘ugly’ face. My screams continue, “This damn bastard is on my window shield! Who in the hell does this grasshopper think he is?” The creep was already on my door. I had to carefully open the driver’s door so as not to have the thing hop into my car. I loathe bugs with a passion. Especially bugs that refuse to get off my car.

            Now this little turd grasshopper has moved from the door and is on my window shield and I am having problems driving. This lime green grasshopper is the size of a giant’s finger. “Get off my car, you sorry ragamuffin! Of all the cars, you had to hop onto mine.” I can see his big bug eyes looking at me through the window. It is all enough to unearth my inner bitch, “I know you can hear me. Don’t give me that look!” This damn thing has got to be a male, because like any male I have dealt with in my life, he is just not listening to me.

            There is only one thing that must be done in this situation; I merely need to speed up. My little yellow Volkswagen flies down the road and this creep grasshopper is going to have no other choice but to find someone else to annoy. He does not budge. I moan to myself, "Oh come on, I’m going 60 in a 50. How is he even able to hold on? Why am I even freaking out about this? Shouldn't I live and let live?" No. I am not a monk. This bothersome grasshopper must find another ride.

            He will. I’m finally in the Mega-Mart parking lot ready to do my grocery shopping and now that the car is at a stop, this grasshopper will realize that in order to survive, he has to go. It is all rather simple, and as I step out of my car and lock the doors, I can’t help but look down over the bright lime green grasshopper. The sun is beating down on me. I twitch as the grasshopper looks up at me. He still refuses to move. I glare with the harshest death stare I can muster before whispering, “Listen up asshole: if you aren’t gone by the time I get back, I will kill you myself.”

            I realize I must sound insane and fortunately enough no one is in the parking lot. There’s a long walk to the store, but the coast is clear. No one is aware that a silly white girl from the suburbs just threatened the life of a grasshopper. “Is this really what it has come to? When did I become that person?” Shaking my neurosis off, I pull out my grocery list and embrace the nice cool climate of a super large all-consuming consumer store with cheap affordable prices on semi nice items.

            As I walk in I am immediately summoned by the smell of French fries at the greasy Happy Burger located right at the entrance. My heart is beating fast, I’m almost ready to forgo the grocery list and just order some fries. What would be the harm in that? It would certainly cost less. Alas, I keep walking. No reason to cave into temptation. With my track record, caving into temptation is usually a tremendous mistake. Lord knows I have the list of exes to prove it.

            Grocery shopping is interesting. There is a great deal of “people” watching for sure. There are also the little observations, like, “Wow, someone tried to siphon the bath wash out of that bottle.” Or, “Wow, someone literally shit on the floor.” Grocery shopping is classy.

            On my mission to find the perfect cheese, I find that young love is growing like a mold on brie. Two young lovebirds are entwined in the dairy aisle. He is wearing gym shorts that outline his package in the most vulgar of ways and she is a clueless halfwit in low rise jeans and crunchy hair. All I want is some cheese.

            Full of smiles, I interrupt the wide eyed couple, “Excuse me, I don’t mean to cut in, but I need some cheese.” They look at me with fear and sadness, as if I am some old crone bent on destroying love and feelings and rainbows. I want to tell them that I was in love once upon a time, and that it turned sour; like most things in this dairy aisle from the looks of it. Maybe I don’t need the cheese after all.

            Instead I grin, “Get it? I’m cutting in for cheese?” They clearly are not prepared for my humor, which only makes me feel more like a crone. I apologize for invading their space, even though I know they are the ones invading my space by blocking the cheese. Who does that? Why am I so bitter? Oh I know why, my ex decided to leave me so he could wear diapers and be spanked by a dominatrix.

            I am all too aware of this personal bitterness, sadly. Maybe I’m just hungry though. That’s it. I’m hungry. The French fries at Happy Burger are calling me from afar. I must heed the Siren’s call. I deserve a break. After all, I’ve been grocery shopping at Mega-Mart. Surely the trials and tribulations of this experience merit a reward of salty fried potatoes? I say potato and my ass says you’ll never work in this town again.  

            After checking out with the kind cashier, I look over my cart of single lady groceries: soap opera magazines because they are amazing, clearance lipstick from three seasons ago, bubblegum ice cream for solo movie night, and cheese for frozen taquitos. My grocery cart really sucks. I stare longingly one last time at the golden archway into the Happy Burger. The greasy fast food restaurant is casting an intimidating glare as I make my way to the exit. The French fries are still calling, singing their praises. I glide by though. There is no reason to order something that will make me feel bad about myself, no matter how seductive they may be. Or smell. God fries smell so good. 

            Back in the parking lot I find myself busy with my bags of food. Regret over the fries lingers in the air like the smell of cologne from a bad boy. Oh that smell is so good. I almost cave in to my desires. Ignoring this is difficult, because damn it, I desperately want a life. I want love. I want to canoodle with a guy in gym shorts on aisle three. I think. What is it that I am supposed to want? I don’t know anymore.

            Inside the safety of my little round Volkswagen, I get ready to back out of the parking space, when suddenly I see something disturbing. That obnoxious grasshopper is still on my car. “Look at this jerk, still on the hood of my car catching a breeze while I try to drive.” The nerve! I was grocery shopping for over an hour, and this grasshopper is still here, he did not go to another car, nor did he hop into some grassy field like he was supposed to. He stuck around. No one sticks around. I have a long list of men who left as fast as they could.

            “Oh no, what in the world…” In this moment as I try to get out of the Mega-Mart parking lot with a grasshopper staring at me through my window shield, I realize that this disgusting insect is more reliable than most of my past loves. This grasshopper waited for me. He sat in the heat while I went shopping. Why can’t this grasshopper turn into a prince? I think I have just found the perfect man, except he is lime green and hops a lot. On the other hand, he is a vegetarian, so he’d get me into shape. Holy hell, is it possible that shopping at Mega-Mart gives me super Zen powers where all problems in life begin to make sense? The ride home suddenly isn’t so bad. Possibilities of the future abound and I feel hopeful. I’m going to be all right, with or without a man. I’m working towards the path to the greatest love with someone: myself.