Monthly Archives: July 2013

Mega Meme Monday! 7/29/13

I have made a couple of executive decisions with this week in regards to this little hobby of mine! Since we had no submissions last week, the $5 gift card will be rolled over to this week and the winner who submits a story for this post will receive a $10 gift card! The second change I have made is the word count requirement (some of you may be excited about this!). The minimum has been dropped down to 100 words (maximum of 1,500 still applies… Ain’t nobody got time for that!) which means that you can bang out a quick story in around 5 minutes and, as long as it’s good, still win! Get crackin’! (stories are to be based on the photo at the BOTTOM of the post and are due by MIDNIGHT MST on August the 2nd. Submit posts to OR using the form below the photo)

The inspiration for last week's Mega Meme!

The inspiration for last week’s Mega Meme!

There is never a dull moment when you are vegan and live across the street from a slaughter house.

As the squeals and cries of the innocent ring out in the night, I am always forced to press my pillow so firmly against my head that I fear I might suffocate myself one night. Night after night I push myself to the brink of suffocation in an effort to drown out the squawks, squeals, snorts and moos that drift across the street to my window. Night after night I fight down vomit as the stench of death wafts through my drapes. Night after night I whisper into my pillow “Just wait until morning, little friends. Those cages are nothing compared to what awaits you.”

Night after endless night had been filled with the same routine.

Until the night that PETA called.

I leaped out of bed and covered myself from head to toe in black before sneaking out of my own back door and slinking along the side of my house before dashing across the street and heading to the gate where I had been instructed to meet them.

They showed up a couple of minutes later and we crept silently through the wooden portal and stepped straight into the bowels of hell. Everywhere we turned there was some kind of defenseless animal cooped up in a wire cage that looked ten sizes too small.

One by one, we began to open them.

One by one, the poor creatures limped, hopped, hobbled, flapped, ran and crawled away from the internment camp that had been forced upon them.

One by one, the five of us filed back through the gate and silently went our separate ways.

Moments before reaching my back door, a blood curdling squeal shattered the silence of the night and I spun in a full circle trying to see where the sound had come from. I saw it a moment too late. A giant pig came charging around the corner of my house and plowed into my legs, knocking me on my ass and causing one of the smaller bones in my arm to come shooting through my flesh.

The pig vanished without another sound as I sat cursing loud enough to wake the neighbors.

When I arrived home from the hospital the next morning, police officers had cordoned off a good portion of my neighborhood and animal control officers were darting in and out of yards in an effort to detain various forms of escaped barn animals. It really was quite comical.

And then I saw this. Like a nightmare come to life, the dark, beady eyes set into that furry, porky face stared at me. It was as if the damn thing knew me.

When I noticed the officer carry the hell spawn back to the slaughter house, I wasted no time in snapping this photo before grabbing my wallet and running over to be the first in line for a side of bacon. I always get my revenge when it comes to matters of pride.

I’ve just never had my revenge taste like bacon before.

In a sick way, it has never tasted so sweet.

Next week’s Mega Meme will be based on THIS photo! Submissions need to be in by 11:59:59 PST on Friday, 2 August 2013. Submit stories to or use the form below

Next week’s Mega Meme will be based on THIS photo!
Submissions need to be in by 11:59:59 PST on Friday, 2 August 2013.
Submit stories to or use the form below

As always, happy writing!

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Posted by on July 29, 2013 in Mega Meme Monday


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If The English Language Had Been Made As A School Assignment…

Weekend Writer Reblog! Once a week (every Friday) I will be reblogging a favorite blog post from throughout the week for your enjoyment! These can be from blogs I follow, blogs that are Freshly Pressed, blogs that I stumble upon of my own accord or , the way I’d PREFER it to be, blogs that YOU GUYS recommend! So please, if you see something, SAY something! If it’s about writing, publishing or books, I’ll consider it for sure!

The Byronic Man

First off, this is very thorough.  Great job – you’ve got everything here a language needs to be not only functional, but allow for nuance, tone, even connotation.

I do have some concerns, though.

funny-pictures-german-language-meme-5The first is there seem to be some important words missing.  Example: There’s an entire entertainment industry built off of enjoying other people’s misfortune and humiliation, yet there’s no word for it.  Hans, in the language he wrote, came up with “Schadenfreude.” Yes, I know the words and spelling in Hans’ language are kind of over the top and occasionally hilarious, but he has words for everything.

Second, is that your language seems a little scattershot with the rules. To be honest, most of them.  It seems like there are very few rules without exceptions. Example: this “i before e” thing.  “I before e” – clear enough; “except after c” – why?  Is there some purpose? …

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Don’t: Defeat Yourself

Do or do not There is no try.

Do or do not
There is no try.

It amazes me how much this little green Jedi has influenced my life with his wisdom. The line quoted in the picture above has been a bit of a personal mantra for me since I was knee high to a grasshopper (thanks in LARGE part to my grandmother who is a little obsessed with this diminutive Degoba dweller).

“Do or do not. There is no try.”

A more powerful statement in so few words has not been made in the history of ever. Entire books have been penned on this very matter and can be quite lucrative—Jordan Belfort, Author and Motivational Speaker, has a net worth of $100 Million.

How can people make so much money driving home such a simple idea?!

Well, it’s because most of us are hell bent and determined to give up before we even get going. How many times have you found yourself thinking, “How can I even compare with XYZ?” or “I’ll never be JK Rowling, so why even try?” My answer to this is simple: Stop trying and just DO it.

You may not ever be as successful as Rowling or Tolkien or even Stephanie Meyer, but if you don’t sit down at that keyboard and pound away at those keys, you’ll never know now will you?

The only way you’ll ever become a successful writer is to write. Every day. Even if it’s only a single page of garbage, at least you’re writing. Nobody produces perfection without practice. It’s just not possible. Stephen King was once quoted for saying

“When asked, “How do you write?” I invariably answer, “One word at a time,” and the answer is invariably dismissed. But that is all it is. It sounds too simple to be true, but consider the Great Wall of China, if you will: one stone at a time, man. That’s all. One stone at a time.
But I’ve read you can see that motherfucker from space without a telescope.”

It’s crude and unrefined (King isn’t one for “polite society”) but the man makes one hell of a point. It is WAY too easy to become overwhelmed when you sit down and say to yourself, “Okay! Only two hundred and ninety pages to go!”… Knock that shit off. Write a thousand words per day. End of story. Some days you’ll be hit by divine inspiration and kick out ten thousand words (and then crawl in a whole and die of emotional exhaustion for several hours), but I beg you: Write at least one thousand EVERY day. When I’m in creative mode, I average about 21 WPM. 48 minutes of my day to hit that one thousand mark is a very small price to pay for the sake of honing my talent. At that rate, I could have a word count worthy of a novel in 60 days.

Either do it or don’t. Just stop telling yourself that you’ll try it tomorrow.

As always, happy writing!


Posted by on July 24, 2013 in Literary Dos and Don'ts


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Mega Meme Monday! 7/22/13

It’s that time again! Mega Meme Monday is back for round two and this time, we’re upping the ante! Not only will you get all the goodies outlined in last week’s post, we’re also throwing in a $5.00 gift card for Amazon’s Kindle Store so you can look into Amber Lynn Natusch’s most recent installment in The Caged Series, or grab a copy of Samantha Towle’s The Mighty Storm before it’s sequel is released in August, or you can snag one of my personal favorites G.P. Ching’s The Soulkeepers Series. The choice is yours! All you have to do is write us a little story (500-1,500 words) about the photo at the bottom of this post and send it to! We’ll pick a winner and you’ll be notified by email!

Without further ado, this week’s Mega Meme was written by Miss Simone Nicole! She’s a budding writer from somewhere in the south of Australia and she’s got a wicked sense of humor that comes across well in her writing. Feel free to show her some love by clicking on her name and liking her Facebook page!

This week's Mega Meme was based on this photo!

This week’s Mega Meme was based on this photo!


Breaking news!

Jimmy Crocket slays great white with knockout punch.

The humiliated, three times world champ was rumored to have disappeared after his boxing career ended with a first round knockout landed by a relatively unknown rookie.

The rumor mill had gone crazy with all sorts of outlandish stories; some claimed that he had been admitted to a mental institution due to the punch scattering his few remaining brain cells, one tabloid claimed that he had fled to the Amazon to become one with his ape brethren and, by far the craziest, (and most popular) was that Jimmy became Jane. After 26 grueling surgeries Jimmy had been completely transformed into a woman. The fabricated images that circulated around every social media site out there paled in comparison to the actual story that we have uncovered.

Almost as preposterous as his becoming Jane, Jimmy had indeed fled the country and made his way across the broken seas to become a surfer in West Australia. Desperate to escape his infamy and shame, he had gone to the only place he wouldn’t be recognized to live his childhood dream. Sadly, that dream was short lived.

He may have stung like a butterfly and floated like a bee in the boxing world but on a surf board, he sank like his boxing career—instantly. The lightness of foot and catlike reflexes were clearly left on the mat with his pride. He refused to give up though. Having been offered a job as a life guard, his days were spent saving stray dogs, deranged grandmothers and drunken bums while his nights were spent trying not to break his surf board in two.

The monotone routine had lasted six whole months, until one ordinary Tuesday afternoon the school kids stopped playing beach football, the seagulls weren’t stealing chips and the deranged grandmothers had started to scream.

Having spent so many years training, it had become part of his daily workout to don his gloves and run a few miles along the beach. The screams become more and more clear the closer he got to the crowd that had started gathering. “Shark!” the all screamed, pointing in the general direction of the small fin sailing through the shallow seas.

Jimmy didn’t stop running.

He splashed into the surf, grabbing a board from a fleeing surfer and started paddling out, still gloved, toward the fin.

A single communal gasp hushed the chaos along the shoreline as he dove into the salty water mere feet from where the fin had just vanished beneath the swells.

No one knows exactly what transpired beneath the surface, but the crowd erupted into applause and cheers when Jimmy surfaced from the crashing waves a few minutes later. Somehow, he had debilitated the giant fish and flung it over his shoulder before setting foot on the hot sand.

Surrounded by the beaming, cheering crowd, he saw a single, scowling onlooker with the acronym PETA plastered across her shirt in large black letters.

He stared right at her and met her scowl with a smirk, “Sushi anyone?”

Next week's Mega Meme will be based on THIS photo!  Submissions need to be in by 11:59:59 PST on Friday, 27 July 2013. Submit stories to

Next week’s Mega Meme will be based on THIS photo!
Submissions need to be in by 11:59:59 PST on Friday, 27 July 2013.
Submit stories to

Good luck!

As always, happy writing!


Posted by on July 22, 2013 in Mega Meme Monday


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Mega Meme Monday! 7/15/13

With the assistance of my new sidekick (more to come on her later!) I have come up with a new idea for my publicity stunt! Not only will this spur some creativity in you guys (I hope), but if successful, it will prove to be HIGHLY entertaining for me AND my readers! So, without further ado, I bring you MEGA MEME MONDAY!

Here’s how it will work:

Every Monday, starting today, you will see a post with two photos… The top one will be the inspiration for the accompanying Mega Meme and the bottom one will serve as the inspiration for the following week’s Mega Meme. I’m kicking it off this week with this lovely story about bad luck, bad decisions and bad rodeo clowns (see below)…

YOUR job is to make it through my story to the photo at the bottom of the post and let your fingers do the rest! All you have to do is write me a short story (between 500 and 1500 words) describing the events that lead up to the moment the photo was taken! Simple, right? You will then submit these short stories via email to for review. Should my evil henchman and I (potentially more members as this takes off) decide that your submission is the best, it will be posted the following Monday as the featured Mega Meme! Naturally, this means you will want to submit your name, a blurb and links to your blog, book store, Facebook page, Twitter, LinkedIn, Google+, MySpace (WHA?!) or any other site you may or may not have so that I can include it in the post and get you some traffic (I’ll do up to 5 links per post)!

If you have any questions, comments or outbursts, PLEASE feel free to comment and/or email us and one of us will get back to you as soon as possible! Aaaaaaand GO!

As always, Happy Writing!

15 July 2013

THIS week’s Mega Meme (below) was written by yours truly and my new lovely assistant (more to come on HER very soon)!

With the mother of all hangovers river-dancing its way through my head, I painstakingly cracked open one bleary eye. As expected, a searing pain shot through my skull and turned the dancers into flaming elves with hammers. Alas, nature was calling and refused to quit.

I slammed my lids down over my dry, sticky eyes and tried to prepare myself for the perilous trip to the bathroom. When I kicked at the tangled blankets to release the lower half of my body, that’s when I realized something just wasn’t right. The flaming elves—along with their mean little hammers—had relocated to a place between my ankle and my toes.

I forced my eyes open one last time and with a sense of sheer terror coursing through my being, searched for the source of the searing, throbbing pain.

At the sight of my blood-stained sheets, my stomach did a neat little flip-flop trick that kinda made me want to heave.

“Deep breath!” I said to myself as I gulped in air and held it for a few moments, “Now, wiggle your big toe.“

Worst idea ever.

“Holy mother of God!”

Clearly, all of my digits were still attached and functional so ever-so-slowly moved myself into an upright position. I grabbed the already-defiled sheet and started to gently wipe the sticky almost-dried blood off of the top of my foot.

As the swollen black lines began to peek through the smeared, gelatinous mess, so did the memories. They poured in slowly at first, like I was watching them through a fog, but the more of the ink I uncovered, the more I remembered of the night before.

Groaning, I hobbled my way into the bathroom, trying not to bend or move my ankle. I kicked my leg up, turned on the faucet as cold as I could get it, and held my stinging stump of a foot under the stream. As the rust-colored blood started to loosen up and wash away, my curiosity piqued.

I couldn’t even tell what the damn thing was supposed to be.

Just then, my mobile started ringing from somewhere amongst the pile of clothes that I had somehow managed to remove before I fell into my bed.

Hoping that it was someone with answers, left the faucet running and limped my way back into the bedroom to begin the search.

I found it right before it went to voicemail.

“Yeah?” the voice that came out of me was barely a whisper.

“You mad dog! How’s the foot?”

“Christ, Alex! Tone it down, woman!” I held the phone away from my head a little so that her voice didn’t split my skull in two. “It’s killing me. Whose bright idea was it to let me get a tattoo while I was so pissed? I can’t even believe the guy did the work with me so belligerent! The damn thing is still bleeding!”

The high pitched laugh that came through the speaker told me that she had not had nearly as much as me.

“You ran out screaming bloody murder! Confused the hell out of the poor guy! You really should get back in there and let him finish it off.”

“I don’t even know what the hell it’s supposed to be!”

“Probably a butterfly.”

More maniacal laughter.

“Real cute.” I grumble.

“Look, I’ll be there in twenty and get you back in there. They can fix you up in a jiffy!” after a pregnant pause she added, “Well, the foot at least!” before the line went dead.

“Yeah… Thanks.”

Thirty of the longest minutes of my life later, we were walking through the vaguely familiar front doors of the tattoo parlor. The satanic buzzing of the needles from the back of the shop seemed happy to keep time with the pounding in my skull and I felt the blood rush out of my head and pool in some useless extremity of my body. It was all I could do to keep upright and pray that nobody noticed me sway.

No such luck.

The face that I had convinced myself was a figment of my imagination appeared in the doorway and smiled a sardonic grin.

“Well, isn’t this a surprise? How’s the foot?”

Trying not to pass out and make a complete ass of myself, I laughed nervously, “I uh… Seem to have interrupted your work last night.”

“Yeah you did!” he laughed as he stepped into the lobby, “I think my ears are still ringing!” He glanced down at the bandage on my foot, “You’re not wanting me to finish that are you? If so,” he ran his hand over his short-cropped hair, “you’re shit out of luck. Can’t touch that again until it heals.”

The blood rushed back to my brain in a hurry as my temper flared. “Hell no I’m not getting it finished! You’re gonna take this shit out of my skin! I don’t care if you have to cut it out with a scalpel!”

“We actually let a laser do that part and it hurts like a son-of-a-bitch. You’re not all that good with pain if my memory serves me.” I could see him waging a battle with the mocking stare that kept trying to surface on his face. “Not to mention, you’re looking at at least six sessions before your ink is totally gone.”

“Just get it off me. This…” I pointed in the general direction of my foot, not sure what to call the piece of “art” that had begun to take shape.

“Midget rodeo clown?” he filled in.

Alex nearly dropped to the floor laughing and I stared at her in horror.

“Wait, that really happened? The little guy on the tricycle wasn’t a dream?”


Alex collapsed to the floor in a heap of bellowing laughter.

“Tattoo her. Now. I want it to say “enter at your own risk” just below her…”

She slammed her foot down on the top of my bandaged foot before I could finish my sentence.

As the obscenities flew from my mouth, I tried to stop myself from falling off of the foot that remained on the ground. I failed miserably.

My cart-wheeling fist met the tattoo guys nose with a sickening crunch and a spray of red and I crumpled to the floor at Alex’s feet.

The rest happened in slow motion.

As he stumbled backwards through the door, his hands came up to his face without him seeming to notice. He tripped over his own feet and went down like a felled tree.

A small device about the size of a tattoo gun tumbled off of the table next to him and I saw his eyes go wide when he saw it. The contraption hit the floor with a blinding flash before skittering into a storage closet and beginning its incarnation as a strobe light.

It didn’t take long for the smell of ammonia to reach my nose.

Moments later, a ball of flames shot out of the closet toward my face and time suddenly remembered that it had places to be.

Alex and I scrambled towards the door as the flames began to spread.

Once outside, we watch through the huge glass windows as everyone in the back room makes a mad dash for the rear exit.

After a minute or so of standing there in shock, the sirens in the distance pull us from our reverie. Alex looks over at me, back at the shop, then back at me, a smile slowly creeping into her eyes.

“There’s never a dull moment with you, is there?” she says, flashing her brilliant teeth in my face.

The only thing that seems to come to mind is the Chinese restaurant over her shoulder.

I grab her arm and drag her through the door, not caring if she was hungry.

“I’m starved. Dumplings?”

22 July 2013

Submissions for next week’s Mega Meme Monday will be based on the events leading up to THIS photo!
Submit YOUR story to for a chance to be featured here next week!

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Posted by on July 15, 2013 in Mega Meme Monday


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