Writers are from Mars and Visit Often

 

Mars, 2001, with the southern polar ice cap vi...

Mars, 2001, with the southern polar ice cap visible on the bottom. (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

During the pubescent Salkin years, I used to think humans were Martian spawns. I don’t know where that idea came from. I guess the same place all weird ideas came from – the sky … and UFOs.

Sometime later during my teenage years, after I got my first typewriter, a thought hit me between the eyes.

You have an imagination and like to write about weird stuff, which makes up an imagination. I sure do like puns.

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Ethereal Whispers

 

Lauren flying through stars

A sound flutters around me in a distant sort of way, a voice as ethereal as a whisper, speaks my name, “Sherri, Sherri.”

Strange…I’m the only one here in the dwindling afternoon, waiting for darkness to swallow sunlight…“Sherri, Sherri.”

Through the haze, shadows with human faces drift through a dimly lit room; my mother stands before them, behind her a mahogany box lays dripping with flowers. She blots an eye with a tissue. “Sherri, we miss you;” her voice shudders as she speaks my name, “Sherri, Sherri.”

 

I’m participating in Lillie McFerrin’s Five Sentence Fiction prompt. This week’s prompt – Whisper.

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Is Double Linking the Same as Double Dipping?

 

Linking two prompts with one post.

Five Sentence Fiction: Forgotten

Silly Sunday

My apologies to Rhonda. Today, I have a linking problem.

 

Jake picking up a scent of God knows what.

 

Following the Scent of Keys

Where did I leave my keys? Did I lose them down the FedEx chute while dropping off the package? No, I drove home, stuffed them in my pocket and then left them in a burglarproof place. After pinpointing their location in my head, I lost it when my dog ambushed me at the fridge. If only he could pick up the scent of nickel, plated brass instead of another dog’s ass.

 

Lillie McFerrin Writes

 

I’m participating in Lillie McFerrin’s weekly Five Sentence Fiction prompt — Forgotten.

I hope I’m not breaking blogging protocol by double linking.

I’m also linking to Silly Sunday since this piece is rather — .  Silly Sunday is hosted by Rhonda of Laugh-Quotes.
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Five Sentence Fiction: MIDNIGHT

 

Midnight Eyes

His midnight eyes, impenetrable, like a moonless night, gaze at the ravenous lick of flames. As my thoughts linger in prescription limbo, fire chars memories of our first kiss, a blissful, sunlit moment disguising a dark secret until now.

Sitting across from him, in the smoky, thickening air, I said goodbye to his coldness that inextricably bound me to a chair. His crooked smile reflects the darkness from within, turned inside out by a car idling in the driveway; thirty years of a life, stuffed into one suitcase, tossed onto the backseat.

“If I can’t have you, no one can,” then he slipped the barrel between his lips and squeezed the trigger; as the deafening sound rings in my ears, smoke tightens its hold on my throat.

 

I’m participating in Five-Sentence Fiction, hosted by Lillie McFerrin at Lillie McFerrin Writes. This week’s writing prompt is MIDNIGHT.

 

Lillie McFerrin

 

The Next Big Thing – Hint – It Has Nothing to Do with Porn!

 

The Next Big Thing Blog Hop

I’m thrilled to be participating in a blog hop called, “The Next Big Thing.” I was tagged by humor writer June O’Hara @ The Neurosis Files and asked to answer ten questions about my most recent writing project.

Here are my responses:

Ms. Salkin —

Please call me Lauren.

Lauren, where did the idea for your book or project come from?

I had written a short piece about being unemployed and realized that I had a longer story to tell. Rather than torture my husband, I struck the computer keys.

Pile of Jobs Sent

A pile of cover letters and help wanted ads

What is the working title of your book?

I’d rather keep that between the title and me.

What genre does it fall under?

It’s a tongue-in-cheek memoir — a tricky balance between sitcom levity and raw honesty— during a time I stared at the bottom of a metaphorical birdcage, while hanging upside down from the perch.

If applicable, who would you choose to play the characters in a movie?

Tina Fey or Amy Poehler if Amy (we’re on a first-name basis) wouldn’t mind dyeing her hair brown for the part, or I could dye my hair blonde. I’m flexible.

What is the one-sentence synopsis of your manuscript or project?

How I survived unemployment and the voices of mass destruction in my head.

Will your book be self-published or represented by an agency?

I hope to be represented by an agent. If any agents are interested, I’d be happy to rearrange my schedule so we can meet.

How long did it take to write the first draft of your manuscript?

Six months. The revision has taken over a year. I hope to complete the manuscript in the next week or two.

What other book would you compare this story to within the genre?

Marrying George Clooney because it involves a midlife crisis and crisis of mind, like mine.

Who or what inspired you to write this book?

I was pissed off and needed an outlet for my rage. I felt it was healthier than stalking an ex employer and threatening him.

What else about the book or story might pique the reader’s interest?

If you’ve ever been underemployed, unemployed or happily employed, you’ll be able to relate to my book. I write about the, often, bizarre world of interoffice politics, the difficulty in parsing the truth during an interview and the frustration of dealing with incompetent maniacal bosses.

In the precarious new world disorder, many of us have been fearful of losing our jobs, our homes, our minds. I lost two out of three. Thankfully, my husband and I were always able to pay the mortgage because we ate lots of Macaroni and Cheese.

With that, we end the interview. Ms. Salkin, thank you for your time.

You’re welcome. It’s Lauren!

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Five Sentence Fiction – Devotion

Silhouette (Photo credit: Siddy Lam)

Deadly Devotion

She gripped the handle on the suitcase as if it were a hand that saved her from falling off a cliff and then slammed the car door.

When she whirled around, a heavy thud of footsteps gave way to a strapping silhouette slinking toward her in the night.

“I can’t let you go,” he said; as words caught in her throat, a plane rumbled overhead.

Two steps closer and a cold blade cut through sealskin deep into her chest. ”I’m taking you home,” he lifted her, cradling her in his arms, as the heart she hoped would heal bled out onto the coat he gave her on her last birthday.

 

Lillie McFerrin’s Five Sentence Fiction. 

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One Shoe Left Behind

He was gone, one shoe left behind collecting dust in the closet.

A slap of heel against the threshold and the door slam behind, sounds she remembered as he slipped into the dense dark of night, the emptiness lingering in the hollows of her eyes.

He looked back as she steadied the scope on the rifle. A little to the right and an explosion ripped through murky sky.

“Must have been a car backfiring,” she told the cop when she took his parka and hung it in the closet above the one shoe left behind.

This post is in response to the Five Sentence Fiction prompt “zombies.”

I Brake for Frogs

Frogger Beyond

Frogger Beyond (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

In the infinite darkness of suburbia, an asphalt-hopping frog defies death to cross the road. I see it in a flash of headlight that hits it midway before it reaches the other side.

I brake to prevent from flattening it, guided by a lingering empathy from the 80s. I regret killing its countless cartoon compadres while playing the arcade game, Frogger.

Caught in the intractable glare of my high beams, the frog hesitates, immobilized by the sudden iridescent light, an anomaly at night.

The frog’s confusion is evident in its inertia, a fleshy bull’s-eye sitting in the center of the road.

I wait, stuck in the shuddering restraint of a two-ton idling car, while checking the rearview mirror for oncoming lights. With the weight of my shoe firmly planted on the brake, I allow patience to temper my inclination to pivot toward the gas.

“Okay, frog. I can spare a minute or two as long as it’s just me and you.” I sigh, and then revisit the empty darkness of the rearview mirror.

“Frog, as long as I’m safe, you’re safe.”

I give the frog a moment to ponder the outcome of its inaction and hope the word, “Splat” comes to mind.

Meanwhile, I lower the headlights, thinking it might jump-start the amphibian brain.

Only seconds pass before the frog inches forward toward the grassy knoll on the other side.

“Finally, I won a game of Frogger. It only took me thirty years.”

I smile from the pale reminder of a youthful memory, brighten the headlights and drive.

 

Silly Sunday #47

Are you funny? If so, please join in at Silly Sunday, co-hosted by Rhonda of Kibitz Spot and Laugh Quotes and Sandee of Comedy Plus. Rhonda is on a big adventure traveling the world until December 2, 2012. For more information about Silly Sunday click HERE.