- I've just finished my critical review of Leah Petersen's Mourn the Sun and have sent her back my comments. It's a wonderful read and she's just been asked for a 'full' (A copy of her full manuscript) by a potential agent. Kudos to Leah and thanks for bringing me into the world of Mourn!
- I won (for the the second week in a row!) the '5MinuteFiction' competition --The one where you're given a topic and 5 minutes to write a story. My entry is below. Enjoy
- More 5MF news--I'll be the judge for this competition on 03 August! More to follow on that.
- I have two short stories in the cooker along with revisions on The Prodigal's Foole. I'm please with the revisions so far and I'm hoping to go back to querying agents with the novel by the end of summer. I'll post the revised first 50 pages by next week.
- Reading continues. At my son's request, I've now finished all 5 books in the Percy Jackson and the Olympians series. Now I really know how bad the movie sucked...
I don’t like sleeping very much. Well, that’s not entirely true. Sleep, I like.
It’s the dreams that come every time I shut my eyes.
They always start the same. I’m in a big city. New York, maybe. It’s a beautiful day and I’m walking along the street taking in the hustle and bustle of city life. Relishing the chaos as I walk through the man-made canyons.
At some point, the dream changes. I’m at the top of a large building, overlooking the city. The view is breathtaking. That’s when I see it.
A plane, flying fast– heading straight for me. There is an explosion and a sense of falling.
Before I hit the ground, the scene changes. I’m in a field somewhere. The smells of grass and of farms permeate my senses. I’m happy.
I look up when I hear a noise. Once again I see a plane, this time it’s heading straight for the ground. In my head I can hear people scream as the large jet impales itself in the once beautiful field at my feet.
Once more the scene jumps. I’m in a building wearing a military uniform…
A noise, one less dramatic, startles me. I’d nodded off again, damn it. The cold sweat dribbled down my back and a wave of helplessness almost overwhelms me.
I see the door open and two men enter. One, I know all too well. The other is dressed in a suit and a tie. I don’t recognize him. It is this unknown man who speaks first.
“And this one?” He says in almost a bored voice.
“Sloane Peterson,” says the man in white. “Thirty One. Showed promise, but her mind snapped during the last trials. Keeps going on about planes and buildings.”
“All right. I’ll let the President know.”
“The President?” I said, my voice croaky, while trying to stand. This man has the ear of the President! “Please sir! I need to speak with President Bush right away! Something terrible is about to happen…planes….attack…” I struggled to get to him. I had to tell him!
“See?” Said the man in white, ignoring me.
The suited man looked at me dispassionately. “Young lady,” he said. “There is no President Bush.” Turning to the other man, he said, “President Nixon will be watching the moon landing this evening. I’ll let him know the future viewing program is a complete failure and an inefficient use of taxpayer money. Keep her locked in here until we cure her or she dies. We don’t want word about her crazy rantings scaring the public, now do we?”
