The Sparrow's Nest

A writer tends to write what he or she reads. Literature is one of a writer's tools. In the words of Stephen King: "If you don't have time to read, you don't have the time (or the tools) to write." That said, select your tools carefully. If you're reading trash, you'll produce trash. Do you want to paint words with a frayed brush and a broken handle that can give you and your readers splinters? Is the paint without, what I call, blood clots? Keep an eye out for good and bad writing. Some pieces are written beautifully, but the story is a piece of junk, and on top of that, there might not even be a story in there. It could be somebody's rant for all you know. It would be like going to the dollar store and picking out some trashy speakers just because they're shiny and colorful. When you're wandering the aisles of literature, testing out each potential tool, remember that just because it's there, doesn't mean it's legit

I've had this idea floating around in my head for awhile, because somebody does own a tiger around these parts. I've always wondered what would happen if I was in the woods, and that thing had escaped, and I met it. That would suck. One day, I was wondering about it again, and the story wove itself as I wrote. I knew it was a keeper then. Up to date, I believe I've worked on this story the hardest. It was in writing this story that I finally understood what Ernest Hemingway said: "There is nothing to writing. All you do is sit down at a typewriter and bleed." Come read the story  here .

Having a great day? Do you want to utterly ruin it? Watch "Camille," the 1936 story about an utterly playful, lovable woman who doesn't think that happiness can come her way. When it finally does, her lover's stupid father convinces her to leave him because of some higher class-lower class bull crap. Filled with a despicable cast of characters who call themselves Marguerite's friends, who don't get theirs' in the end, and a punching bag that doesn't deserve it, "Camille" will make you laugh, cry, and ax the television set. Of course, anyone's who's watched the original "Annie" will know how "Camille" ends. Why didn't I just stick with "Annie"?

Feeling bad today about your rejection letters? Did you just a get a bulk of letters telling you no? Rejection letters are such a pain in the butt. Here are excerpts from some of those notorious letters that I got. Some of the wretches came in a bulk. 1) IT'S MY BELIEF THAT DESERTS ARE SIGNIFICANTLY COOLER AT NIGHT. YOU COULDN'T SUSPEND MY BELIEF ENOUGH. Arizona deserts can stay 100 degrees at midnight. This dame probably doesn't believe you can get into a wreck in the snow. 2) I COULDN'T TELL WHAT GENRE IT WAS. Seriously? It's full of ghosts and death. 3) YOURS WAS ONE OF THE HIGH-QUALITY SUBMISSIONS WE'VE HAD TO REJECT. Um...so why didn't you accept it? 4) I WOULD HAVE ACCEPTED THIS LAST YEAR. Last year???  Screw you, too! 5) I READ THIS, HAVE LOTS OF SUBMISSION FOR ATMOSPHERE BECAUSE I LOOK AT LOTS OF THEM AND THE SUMBMISSIONS. I WISH I TO GAVE FEEDBACK ON ALL OF THEM. I've been rejected by a man who can't write. 6) YOU

I love reading writing quotes. They don't just teach, but they also let me know I'm going in the right direction. Here are a few that I love. "If a nation loses its storytellers, it loses its childhood." -Peter Handke "If it sounds like writing, I rewrite it. Or, if proper usage gets in the way, it may have to go. I can't allow what we learned in English composition to disrupt the sound and rhythm of the narrative." -Elmore Leonard "If you tell the reader that Bull Beezely is a brutal-faced, loose-lipped bully, with snake's blood in his veins, the reader's reaction may be, "Oh, yeah!" But if you show the reader Bull Beezely raking the bloodied flanks of his weary, sweat-encrusted pony, flogging the tottering, red-eyed animal with a quirt, or have him booting in the protruding ribs of a starved mongrel and, boy, the reader believes!" -Fred East "I would advise anyone who aspires to a writing career that before d

Having a hard time keeping on your diet? Does that food smell too good? Have no fear! You will stay on it. This is fail safe! (This isn't me, because if it was, all the nails would be bitten off) One day, there was a boy. He ate everything. He tried everything. He didn't even look at what he was trying until it was too late. There was a group of men using a pop can to spit their tobacco in. They didn't bother throwing it away and left it on the table. This crazy boy went over there after they had left, snatched up the can, and took several gulps before he realized what he was drinking. Now, over here on Apache land, the Apaches were having a giant eat. A woman was mixing a massive potato salad in a metal trashcan--with her arms. She hadn't shaved in about a month, and hadn't bathed all day, so she was the grease queen. The mayonnaise stuck to all her armpit hairs. She then served everybody the potato salad. Many years ago, a boy decided to take his

Publishing announcement! The Wicked Library has finally released my story "Devil's Hour." Come listen to it  here ! The story behind this is a simple one. A few years ago, I was watching a documentary on feral children. Most of the parents had turned their kids feral. I wondered, "What if the parents could train their child to be like a guard dog?" Of course, who in their right mind would go to such a house? A thief, of course. (This isn't the house, but it's close) One summer, when I was getting ready for girl's camp, we had to drop our stuff off at one of the camp director's houses. The place was enormous! She wasn't a nut, but I did base her house off of the mansion. As for the basement, it's based off a place I stayed in when I was house-sitting with a friend. The place was creepy. Getting lost in the house was based off of a nightmare I had when I was a little girl. So this story was years in the making.

The Hondah Resort and Casino, in Northeast Arizona, is a beautiful place in the pines where high schools hold proms and there's a blue grass festival every year. It's equipped with a hotel and restaurant. But after all the fun goes away and it's only the employees and the dark, other "guests" arrive. A few years back, the security cameras inside the Honda Resort and Casino caught footage of a woman without legs floating through the building. Maybe that's why they keep losing their janitors. Speaking of clean-up crew, a woman working the graveyard shift saw a shadow keeping pace with her as she worked. She quit. At night, in one of the storage rooms, a little boy whistles. Some have heard it, some have not. During the graveyard shift in the variety store, packages of bread and other things have flown off the shelves. Not too long ago, while a restaurant hostess was cleaning up around the cash register, right at closing time, she saw a boy in bla

They said post your picture on social media, that way, people will know you're friendly and know that you're a real person. How lovely. Say you're not paranoid, so you say to yourself, "I think I will! It's gonna be awesome!" And then the next day a weirdo contacts you. "I was randomly snooping around, saw your face, and thought you were so beautiful! Let's be friends! I'm a soldier fighting for our country, and I'm really buff." He saying this while he's looking at your picture like this: And he looks like this: "Hi, do you wanna breed?" "Say What?!" "I have no time to read your stories, Dear, because I'm so busy. But can you make time for me?" "No, man, you're ugly!" And then block the sicko and all his STD's.

For once, I decided to check my facebook, and found a message inside saying that "64 Dresses" had gone live. I "ran" over, opened up the online magazine, and there was my baby looking at me--with an illustration no less! What was behind this story? Take away the infuriating experiences with severe racism and pretend friends, there is only left a bedtime story I made up to get my little sister to go to sleep. There have been many stink people in my life. It only made sense that they should melt. The girl's stench was based off of a kid I knew when I was five. Oh gosh, I knew exactly where he was when he'd come to play with my brother. Wouldn't you know it, the little stink bomb would be sitting on my precious bed--right where my head went at night. And yes, he did smell orange. I can't describe it any other way. My nose still quivers when I think about him.

I always wondered what would happen if somebody actually succeeded in calling in Bigfoot, and if they didn't howl and beat sticks together in the middle of the night to do it. What if all they had to do was contact him in a simpler way? Then I thought, what kind of a nut would do that? And why would this person be driven to it? Maybe she's not only a bleeding heart activist for the Bigfoot, but she's also in an unhappy marriage. But I needed more than just an unhappy marriage. That's when Donald showed up, an old gross man with lots of money. Ah, Margaret is unhappy AND grossed out, but she did it to herself because she's a gold digger. The woman became self-centered AND self-destructive. Yay, perfect! The settings had already been picked months ago, but they had no story to go with them. Now that Margaret was there, she just had to blow herself up.

Everybody has drunk off all the pop, ate all the food, munched off all the snacks and left you a can of beans. I guess it's a good time to go on a diet. So you go on a diet, and suddenly, everyone is so nice. "Here, Honey, have some donuts. Did you eat today? I made a cake just because!" "Oh look, I ordered pizza, because I love you so much!" "Hey, I know you love Coke. I bought some for you when I went out." "Hey, guess what, I made extra for you!" Agh! What's a starving sufferer to do? Scream and run, little sufferer, just scream and run. Publishing announcement! My story "Love Notes" is live on Liquid Imagination  here ! Be sure to share it with your friends! It helps a lot!

Awww, look at it, so cute! So fluffy, so round--look at those little big eyes! It loves to climb and make clickety noises. It loves nuts and berries! The little wretch also loves these. Now when the package says to plant it in a pot INSIDE the house, you better plant it in the pot and keep its butt inside. Otherwise, it ends up looking like this! Oh look, one left who survived the squirrel apocalypse... ...sort of...

It's 1985! America has been invaded by a bunch of evil-looking dudes! People are dying left and right! And only one man can stop them: Chuck Norris! He's a one-man-army out kicking butt and saving the day!  Didn't know this movie existed? Well, now you do! And now, here is my in-depth, highly-educated, intelligent review of Invasion U.S.A. "Oh gosh, I hope nobody comes to the door."

At the beginning of summer, I planted a sunflower seed. It wasn't just any sunflower seed. It was a red and yellow sunflower seed. I waited all summer for it to grow. I learned of its ways, watched it reach six feet tall and bloom with a blossom as big as my face. Look how beautiful! And then the hail storm of the century hit... AAAAAAGGGHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! He was so young! Beheaded for a crime he didn't commit! Poor George. Reduced to a tin cup.