What I Did Last Summer part 3

What I Did Last Summer: Fact or Fiction? Blog Hop

Can you tell a great story, one that's so good, it's hard to tell if it's fact or fiction?

Story #1 told of a dad and his little boy in an aluminum boat, out to collect their crab traps when the son falls overboard.

Story #2 told of two sisters playing in the yard and woods when a banana slug falls on the smaller sister's shoulder ending all the fun.

And the FACT story is . . . the banana slug story! That was my sister and me when she was about 7 and I was close to 4. It's one of my few memories from the house we lived in Belfair, and an extremely traumatic one at that :) So gross! I also had a mouse run up my pant leg at that house, but that's another story, and another traumatic incident.

I apologize for not being around yet for this bloghop. I've been experiencing technical difficulties for a couple weeks (hoping those Frontier people will come to our house today--for the third time--to fix it correctly) and I'm long-term-subbing in a second grade class for the beginning part (two months) of the school year and I had two days to prepare--yikes! So, needless to say, I'm running around like a decapitated chicken one minute and dragging like a zombie the next, but I'll catch up soon ;)

Have a great weekend and I hope it's sunny wherever you are!

What I Did Last Summer--Fact or Fiction? Part 2

Can you tell a great story, one that's so good, it's hard to tell if it's fact or fiction?

Emily King and Melodie Wright are hosting this creative bloghop where we share a summer memory as well as one that's pure fiction. The stories do not have to happen this summer. 

Everyone else's job? To spot the fact from fiction. The writer who fools the most commentors wins the prize.

Here's the scoop:

• Monday, Sept. 3: Post one summer story, true or false, it doesn't matter but it should be under 500 words.
• Tuesday: Sept. 4: Hop to other participating blogs to check out your competition.
• Wedesday, Sept. 5: Post your other summer story. If Monday's was your truth, have Wed. be your fiction story. Or vice versa. (Again, under 500 words.)
• Thursday, Sept. 6: Hop to other participating blogs. Decide which one is true and which is false and put your vote in the comments of each entry.
• Friday, Sept. 7: Your reveal. Tell us which story is true and which is false.

Here's my second story:

“You’re it!” the red head yells before racing her little sister across the yard.

“No fair!” the blonde girl speeds as fast as her little legs can carry her, but her older sister is almost to the trees and out of sight. She follows the trail up the embankment, under the cover of gigantic evergreens, to find a pair of blue eyes peaking around the silver garbage cans. “Found you!”

The red head pops up laughing. “Bet you can’t tag me!”

The two girls run circles around the three aluminum containers until the big one tires and the relentless little one hits her on the arm in victory. “You’re it now!”

“I don’t want to play anymore.” The red head climbs the other side of the dug-out area where the garbage cans sit, and drags her hand along the rough bark of the tree trunk as she walks around it. “How high do you think we can climb?”

The blonde one squats and launches herself toward the lower branch barely skimming the droopy green boughs. “I need a lift, Jennie!”

The red head walks over to her little sister and is about to pick her up when a blood curdling scream pierces her ears. “What’s wrong?”

The little blonde sister squirms and spins and hops around with one shoulder tilting to the ground. “Get it off! Get it off!”

When the younger sister spins once more, the red head’s eyes go wide and then she doubles over, laughing so hard she almost pees her pants, all the while the blonde sister is crying hysterically before running from the cover of the cedar trees.

Mom rushes out the slider onto the deck. “What’s the matter, girls?”

“Mommy! Mommy!” the blonde girl barely sputters between sobs. “Get it off!”

Mom holds her arms out to her daughter and pulls back when the little blonde girl nears. “Oh, dear, it’ll be okay, we’ll get it off,” she says, stifling a giggle and feeling slightly guilty for not embracing her traumatized child. “Jennie, run and get a stick.”

“M-o-m-m-y!” the little one wails, throwing herself on the ground.

The large banana slug that had plopped down from the tree landing perfectly on the shoulder of the little blonde girl, sails from its temporary perch, leaving an ooze of slime on her white-cotton t-shirt.

The red head returns, stick in hand, ready to whack her younger sibling, only pulling up short when she spots the slimy mollusk squinching in that disgusting way slugs shrivel after touched. Her mouth spreads into a smile. “Let’s get some salt!”

What do you think? Fact or fiction?

What I Did Last Summer--Fact or Fiction?

If you're looking for my GUTGAA meet 'n greet, click here or scroll down :)

Can you tell a great story, one that's so good, it's hard to tell if it's fact or fiction?

Emily King and Melodie Wright are hosting this creative bloghop where we share a summer memory as well as one that's pure fiction. The stories do not have to happen this summer. 

Everyone else's job? To spot the fact from fiction. The writer who fools the most commentors wins the prize.

Here's the scoop:

• Monday, Sept. 3: Post one summer story, true or false, it doesn't matter but it should be under 500 words.
• Tuesday: Sept. 4: Hop to other participating blogs to check out your competition.
• Wedesday, Sept. 5: Post your other summer story. If Monday's was your truth, have Wed. be your fiction story. Or vice versa. (Again, under 500 words.)
• Thursday, Sept. 6: Hop to other participating blogs. Decide which one is true and which is false and put your vote in the comments of each entry.
• Friday, Sept. 7: Your reveal. Tell us which story is true and which is false.

Here's my first story:

Water ripples over barnacle covered rocks, lapping at the critters clinging to their stationary home. A tiny hand picks up the white speckled stone, inspecting the pokey crust before tossing it into the waves. A much larger rock flies high into the air, splashing down only feet from where they stand. Giggles follow the spray and a boy’s voice calls out, “Mine went farther than yours!”

He chuckles and musses the summer-streaked hair on his son’s head. “Ready to check the traps?”

A small gas engine putters, pushing the aluminum boat through the salt water toward the red buoy pointing to the blue sky above, promising loads of orange crab below.  With every Knott, the boy peers over the edge of their vessel, watching the cloudless sky reflect across the glassy sea speeding beneath them.

“Sit back, honey,” he reminds his son before easing up on the gas.

They glide into an arch around the painted Styrofoam marker. The boy hops up and over the seat to get a closer look. “Did we get any, Daddy?”

“Let’s bring it up to see, honey.” He grips the rope and pulls hand over hand until the metal cage scrapes the bottom of the craft.

The boy jumps up and down clapping his hands, excitement crinkling his cherubic face in anticipation for their haul.

He catches the action out the corner of his eye a second before he sends out another warning. “Sit down, son. You’re in a boat.” A wave slaps the side of the boat and his heart sinks. The rope slips from the man’s hands, skimming noisily along the metal as the weight of the crab trap pulls it to the bottom.  Against his own advice, he jolts up and reaches for the boy. But he’s too late.

Blonde hair, blue shorts, and sandaled feet flail over the edge and slip into the water.

Panic explodes in his chest propelling him into the deep blue-gray. Cold pricks his skin, salt burns his eyes, and he thrashes gracelessly one direction, then another, searching the water for his child.

Nothing. The man dives further, spinning all directions, only to find an empty sea surrounding him. His lungs burn, begging him to return to the surface, but his heart pleads to search more. He looks up to the brightness above, gauging how much longer he can push his body, and spots a small, dark figure moving between him and the sun.

He cuts through the water pops up next to his son bobbing a foot from the craft, a wide smile spread between his cherubic cheeks, clapping again in excitement. “Did we catch any crab, Daddy?”

The man hooks his hand beneath the orange and blue life vest and heaves his son back into the boat. Once aboard himself, he pulls his nine-year-old baby into his arms and his world ebbs regular once more. 

What do you think? Fact or fiction?

GUTGAA Meet 'n Greet

Hello, my name is Hope, and I'm addicted to writing.

I've written a few WiPs now, but it wasn't until my latest I felt comfortable claiming the title of writer. Mostly, because I wrote Birds of a Feather in five weeks. But also (and probably more important) because I'm no longer afraid of not having another idea worth writing.

I've conquered the doubt!

Okay, maybe not entirely, but enough to say . . . Yes! I am a writer!


And now for the GUTGAA questions :) I should probably admit to my addiction with smiley faces too :) :) :)

-Where do you write?

My laptop sits on my desk in our loft. This is where I do most of my online stuff, edits, and quick bursts of writing. If I have time, I take my laptop to my bedroom, shut the doors and fall into whatever world I'm creating.

-Quick. Go to your writing space, sit down and look to your left. What is the first thing you see?

Hmm, it's a bit messy and I don't like mess, I'll clean up soon :) Okay, there's a thesaurus and other writing-craft-books, pictures of my family (two from when my husband and I first got together--man do we look young!), my planner, a dry-erase calendar on the wall below the shelves of crafty stuff, silver nail polish and a pink pipe cleaner in the shape of a heart (thank you Quynn), a scratch-off lottery ticket (thank you Cort), a Mason jar (almost time to can peaches again), my phone, stackable filing tray-thingies, my scissors that don't belong there (thank you Harlan), and a my easel with a blank canvas waiting for me to paint a big pink horse on it for my niece's birthday :) Yep, I need to clean!

-Favorite time to write?

I'm sporadic, but I'm finding between 6pm and 9pm becoming the best time to hide away and get creative. It falls in line with husband getting home, finishing dinner, kids settling in, and all that jazz.

-Drink of choice while writing?

COFFEE!!!!!!!!!!!!!! With peppermint or Italian sweet cream , mmmmmmm :) I need my third cup now, I'll be back in a sec...

-When writing , do you listen to music or do you need complete silence?

My last WiP, I had a soundtrack playing. My current WiP, it's silent. So I guess it depends on the story.

-What was your inspiration for your latest manuscript and where did you find it?

A rejection on a full request of my last WiP. I read the email, opened a Word document, and started typing. The first couple sentences were my own feelings, then a character was created and her story began. I had no idea what I was writing or what her journey would be until it showed up on the screen. 

-What's your most valuable writing tip?

Critique partners--can't live without them!! And I like the idea from Stephen King too--draft with the door closed, edit with the door open. I'm sure I'm botching that up pretty bad, but just get your thoughts down and your story out without worrying what it sounds like (door closed), then edit with input (door open). I think that's the gist of it :)

Hopefully you're all still awake and don't think I'm too Looney-tunes after stepping into my writing space :) I look forward to learning more about all of you!

THANK YOU DEANA for doing this blogfest! 

It's amazing and the amount of work you've put into it and continue to dedicate to GUTGAA is astounding! THANK YOU!

If you haven't signed up, hop over to Deana's blog and get on the linky list! And don't forget to meet and greet your fellow bloggers and GUTGAA participants below :)