A Cold Weather Writing Prompt

It’s been too long since I last posted a writing prompt. Since I’ve always thought of October not as a month in Autumn, but the month that signals the beginning of winter, it seems this scene should be suitable.Looking up a cliff face

The scene: a cliff

Weather: It is cold

Characters: – a middle aged man
– a stunning younger brunette

Props: – an expensive piece of jewelry
– two hamburgers and an order of french fries
– a small animal

In the distance: a train, or is that sirens?

Optional – Use this sentence in the story: “You had asparagus on your lip, but it was strangely attractive.”

One of your characters is standing at the edge of the cliff.
What happens next?



The Password of Death

Your Password RulesA story I began working on awhile ago that I haven’t touched in months surfaced today when I saw this picture.

The story is a humorous thriller (or maybe just a bumbling idiot trying to stay alive). In one scene my hero, Torrance, is fleeing from a trio of guys trying to kill him. He realizes he is in the neighborhood of a former girlfriend. Her apartment is password protected. He has to enter a code into a keypad and say a word into a microphone.

Even before he gets there he remembers the word, but the password which is the girl’s dog’s name followed by its birthday, which Torrance is surprised he remembers. However, there is a symbol between the dog’s name and it’s birthday and it’s the symbol that’s the problem. Again and again Torrance types in Gene followed by a symbol then 62299 and each time the machine buzzes loudly. Each time he is torn between trying again and  running again, because he knows the buzzing is so loud it’s going to lead the bad guys right to him.

Anyway, it’s funny how the muse works and when creativity decides to strike. I know I have to work on this story again, if for no other reason, than to find out if Torrance ever figured out the password.


Convincing Myself

Convincing myself my characters areWhere it sometimes gets scary is when I’m out, such as shopping at the grocery store or maybe the mall and one of my characters starts talking to me. Often I will talk back, but if I forget where I am, which is easy if the conversation is good, I might be talking out loud.

Fortunately, it hasn’t led to anyone calling the police, but that could lead to a good story, too.


What Every Baby Wants: Metallica Lullabies

A few months ago I became a grandfather. Lately I’ve been watching for gifts Lullaby Renditions of  Metallica Songs(Christmas is coming up, first birthday next year, etc). I stumbled across an album of Lullaby music, rearrangements of Metallica songsRockabye Baby! Lullaby Renditions of Metallica. At first glance this seems extremely stupid, but after a closer look it just seems… well, potentially dangerous.

If you have a baby and you’re tired of singing the child to sleep (or in some cases humming) the child to sleep with the same old tunes, you might want to invest in Metallica Lullaby’s. A recording of 11 Metallica songs rearranged into what are advertised as “soothing” lullabies.

That’s the key word. It seems unlikely that anything by Metallica could ever be considered soothing, except for a person suffering some sort of psychotic or neurotic problem.

I listened to each of the 11 samples. Most of them did seem surprisingly soothing, but a few of them left me feeling tense or irritated. Trouble is, I have no idea if a baby would react in the same way and feel tense just as I did. In reading the Amazon reviews one family found that the music did not lull their child to sleep and the music was too creepy for one four-year old.

What surprised me was that this album isn’t the gimmick I thought it was (yes, I’d probably already know that if I had a baby around), but there are more than 15 other albums produced by the same company, Rockabye Baby. While listening to the samples for a couple of them (the Beatles album was quite pleasant), I felt like I was listening to elevator music.

Have you listened to any of these albums? What do you think?


My Autobiography?

Autobiography- Well, That Didn't WorkFirst, I’m wondering if this is a book of  blank pages and,if so, how many.

Second, it’s an ‘up-to-now’ book. An autobiography is always an up-to-now book. A biography could have a completely different title.

A major concern of mine is that this will be the title of my biography. Rather than that title, I’d prefer, “Well, It Was a Good Try.”

It is funny, but is a red cover really a good idea?


The Most Important Thing In the world

Believe itI guess that’s why I keep at it, writing that is.

I’d love to have thousands and thousands of people read what I write, but that isn’t as important as doing it because even if there are times I don’t think it’s important, I know it is.

It has to be done. It has to be said, otherwise I wouldn’t be writing it. I’d just mumble it to myself and that would be it. Of course, I hope someone else likes it, but if not I’m still having fun writing it.


Looking at a Funeral

Two men stood on a beach talking.ocean

“You can’t just dump his body in the ocean.”

“That’s what he said he wanted.”

“But it’s his least favorite place. He’s not a water person.”

“So, what’re we gonna do, dump his body in the woods somewhere or on a mountainside?”


“And let the mountain lions chew him up.”

“No, we cremate him and scatter his ashes.

“But that’s going to cost money and he said not to spend any money on his funeral.”

“So, like he’s going to know.”

“He said to tie some cement bricks to his body and drop him about ten miles out in the ocean.”

“Isn’t there something illegal about that?”

“How should I know, that’s just what he said he wanted.”

“That makes no sense. He never went in the ocean, he can’t swim.”

“Like that should make a difference. Where’s he going to swim to?”

“Damn, you’re such an idiot. Can’t you be serious just once?”

“I am being serious. How about we cremate him and scatter his ashes out over the ocean.”

“But that’s going to cost what… five hundred, maybe a thousand bucks?”

“We can afford it.”

“That’s not what I mean. It’s not much.”

“Okay, so we get the best container money can buy.”

“There you go again.”

“There I go where? The man didn’t want anything special. He didn’t want a big elaborate funeral. He didn’t want a gravestone or a marker of any kind. He didn’t want anybody to go to any trouble. So, we do the least expensive thing, a legal thing and be done with it.”

“But what’s he going to say when he finds out?”

“So, who’s gonna tell him?”

“I mean, he’s probably listening someplace right now.”

“And I’ll bet he’s thinking, “’Do what you want, I’m dead what the hell do I care?’”

“Alright, alright, so we cremate him and scatter his ashes off the pier. So, who do we invite?”

The two men stood there staring at each other a moment. Then one of them threw his hands up in the air, mumbled something and walked away.

“Hey,” the other man shouted after him. “We weren’t finished.”