November 2014 Issue of
The Scribblers Newsletter
Welcome to the November issue of The Scribblers. In this issue we have new writing prompts, part 7 of Sisters by Jamie Baker and a look at author Wayne Stinnett.
November Writing Prompts
Each month we try to provide prompts for you to use to generate stories. Pick one or more and write 500 to 1,000 words using the prompt/s as the basis of your story. Above all, have fun with it.
1. Looking for a simpler life, a weary intelligence agent assumes a new identity.
2. While writing an autobiography, a gossip columnist uncovers a hidden family secret.
**For those of you who like to write from prompts, and we hope you do, I have found a book called The Amazing Story Generator. It makes developing your own writing prompts quick and easy.
Sisters
Part 7
by Jamie Baker
The others were just 2 blocks from the apartment when Ken
and Penny Crow pulled up in their VW bus, Ken tapping a couple of short blasts
on the VW’s signature horn.
“Hey, hippies,” Ken called out the driver’s window, “we’re
on our way to a party. Climb aboard.”
Penny reached back and unlatched the side door, sliding it
open with a strong push.
Ginger and Marci flopped onto the rear bench seat, while
Cartwheel packed their shopping bags into the space between the two front seats
and crouched behind them.
“Where’s the party?” Ginger yelled over the whine of the
engine.
“Your place, of course,” Penny laughed back, dangling a
small bag of pot over Cartwheel’s head.
Ken and Penny are cousins, the son and daughter of Denny and
Lincoln Crow, a pair of brothers who married a pair of sisters, Rose and
Charlotte. Ken and Penny look nothing
alike, surprising since they are cousins both maternally and paternally. Penny is blond and dimpled, rosy-cheeked and
blue-eyed. Ken is built similarly, only
an inch or two taller than Penny, but his coloring is startlingly
different. With thick black hair and
deep-set dark eyes on either side of a hawkish nose, he looks Mediterranean
compared to Penny’s Nordic looks. They
grew up together, their respective families living only blocks away from each
other, and now in their early twenties, they share a small cottage a few blocks
from the University, where Penny is an early childhood development major and
Ken works in the maintenance department.
It’s rare to see one without the
other somewhere close by.
Penny, Ken and Carol crowd into a corner of the kitchen,
around an old 1950’s dining set. The
Formica top is scarred with scratches and a few cigarette burns and the vinyl
seats are split, but the tubular chrome legs look like they could last another
50 years. Carol, closest to the window
that looks out onto the courtyard, pulls the curtains closed.
Penny nods at her, “Good idea. I’m Penny and this is Ken.” Penny dumps the
bag of pot into a shoe box lid that Ginger pulls from one of the kitchen
cupboards.
“That’s Carol,” Marci calls from the living room where she
is flipping through a stack of LPs. “She
lives upstairs in number 32.” A few seconds later, Cream’s Strange Brew cranks
up on the turntable.
“Jesus H. Christ, turn it down,” Ginger, at the sink filling
a large pot for spaghetti, yells.
“That’s all we need,” she says to the stream of water, “the neighbors
bitching and moaning and calling the cops.”
The decibel level drops significantly.
“What’s the H stand for?” Carol asks when Ginger hands her
the joint.
Ginger holds her breath for several seconds before
answering. “Herbert.”
Carol laughs a blast of smoke through her nose.
The joint passes from hand to hand and for a few minutes the
only sounds heard over Ginger Baker are the whistling pull of inhales and
strangled coughs.
Cartwheel hands the joint to Carol, turning back to the
counter where he is slicing a fat loaf of sour dough for garlic bread.
“Oh, shit,” says Marci, “I forgot about Roy. I wonder what happened.”
“Who cares,” says Ginger.
She gets up and pulls a quart bottle of tequila out of an upper
cupboard. “Get the shot glasses out of
that cupboard, Cartwheel.”
“We saw Roy on our way over here. Over on Grant. He was talking to some straight dude, so we
didn’t stop.”
Ginger pushes mismatched shot glasses around the table and
then reaches the bottle out and fills each one.
“What straight dude?” Cartwheel asks.
“I don’t know, just some block head with a crew cut. He reminded me of that recruiter who came to
our high school.” Ken says. He leans back in his chair and downs the shot
with a quick twist of his wrist.
Penny takes a big sip of her shot and shivers. “I remember him,” choking a little on the
tequila. “All ‘Uncle Sam wants you’ and
patriotic and shiney.”
“I doubt Uncle Sam wants Roy ‘Reno’ Brown.” Ginger says.
“How come you’re so pissed at Roy?” Marci says.
“Because he’s an asshole.
Look at that shit he pulled in the store.”
“Well, just because he’s a shop lifter, doesn’t make him an
asshole.”
“Not a shop lifter, a steak lifter.” Carol volunteers and
the others laugh.
“Look,” Ginger says with a grimace, downing her shot, “he
could have got us all in trouble. And
Carol is a minor. I’m sure she doesn’t
want the police knocking on her parent’s door.”
“Gees, Ginger lighten up; they
didn’t even know Roy was with us.” Marci says.
“For a million bucks?” Marcie is leering suggestively. “Hell, I would.”
“Too late, you already did.
And for free.” Ginger said, pouring out another round of shots. “And
from what I’ve seen, once Roy ‘Reno’ Brown’s got your notch on his belt, he’s
done with you.”
A Short, Short Story
This is more a brief scene than a short story
The Party
by Colleen Weikel
The party had just gotten underway when Frank and Janet arrived. They were the perfect couple, always teasing each other, doting on each other.
I met them in the foyer, "Hi, you two! Come in. Have a drink and mingle."
"Can I bring you a drink, Honey?" Janet asked, gliding toward the bar, almost out of earshot by the time Frank responded.
"Please." Frank turned to me smiling a friendly smile. "So, how is Steve? Still making the mega bucks?"
"Steve is wonderful, but he's gone so much," I replied.
"That's too bad, you must miss him. Maybe he'll take you along on his next trip," he smiled again.
"Perhaps," I replied as Frank touched my hand, "He's leaving Friday for London. He'll be gone two whole weeks," I said, breathless, watching Frank's expression.
He looked toward the bar where Janet was standing, waiting for their drinks and talking to Ben Miller, our neighbor who fancies himself a ladies' man. Frank reached behind me, lightly brushing my shoulder, and leaning against the door frame, smiling down at me.
"London? Nice city," he smiled, "I suppose you'll be working on the fundraiser for the football team while he's away?"
I almost laughed, "Of course. Steve's absences give me a chance to really concentrate on my favorite causes."
His hand found the small of my back and rested there. "What time is he leaving? Maybe I can drive him to the airport."
"He must be there by 9:00 a.m. With all the new regulations since 911, one must check in very early at the airport when going overseas."
Frank tipped his head ever so slightly to the left and, looking directly into my eyes, said, "one must."
A Look at Wayne Stinnett
Last year I found a series of books on Amazon.com by author Wayne Stinnett. They are very different from what I usually read, but I've read and thoroughly enjoyed all 5 in the series and became curious about the author.
Wayne Stinnett has 5 novels to his credit, his first published in 2013: Fallen Palm, Fallen Out, Fallen Mangrove, Fallen Pride and Fallen Hunter. I have read and enjoyed all of them.
Wayne Stinnett was born in West Virginia. At age 12 his family moved to Florida where he grew up in a town called Melbourne. There he and his brothers explored the Indian River lagoon and all of the waterways that flow into it . At 16 he began exploring further and soon found that long island chain known as "The Keys".
Graduated from high school in 1977, he enlisted in the Marine Corps. He visited northern Europe and the Far East, but returned to Florida. Spending much of his free time scuba diving and fishing, he wrote fictional short stories in the early eighties and compiled an extensive list of beach dive spots. He has explored many shipwrecks along what us known as the Treasure Coast.
After his second marriage failed, he bought a sailboat and lived on it in Boot Key Harbor in the Florida Keys. He has also lived on Andros Island in the Bahamas and on Isla de Cozumel in Mexico for short periods while working as a divemaster.
He now lives in the foothills of the Blue Ridge Mountains near the small town of Travelers Rest.
After working for twelve years as a truck driver and writing in his free time, he published his first novel, Fallen Palm, in 2013. The story was based on short stories he had written in the 1980's.
Married for the third time in 2001, the Stinnetts have four children, three grandchildren, two dogs, and a flock of parakeets. They also grow much of their own food in a garden behind their house.
Stinnett still gets down to Florida every now and then, but often it's via his imagination as he writes.
Set in the Florida Keys, the protagonist of all of his books is a retired Marine, Jesse McDermitt, a charter boat Captain who lives on a small island north of Big Pine Key where he explores, dives, and fishes the Florida Bay and the Gulf of Mexico.
Glimmer Train New Writer Contest
This category is open only to emerging writers whose fiction has not appeared in any print publication with a circulation over 5000. (Seven of the last eight 1st place New Writer winners have been those authors' first print publications.)
Second- and 3rd-place winners receive $500/$300, respectively, or, if accepted for publication, $700. Winners and finalists will be announced in the February 1 bulletin, and contacted directly the previous week.
Most submissions run 1,500 - 6,000 words, but can be as long as 12,000. Reading fee is $15 per story. Please, no more than three submissions per category. Writing Guidelines: click here
Welcome to the November issue of The Scribblers. In this issue we have new writing prompts, part 7 of Sisters by Jamie Baker and a look at author Wayne Stinnett.
November Writing Prompts
Each month we try to provide prompts for you to use to generate stories. Pick one or more and write 500 to 1,000 words using the prompt/s as the basis of your story. Above all, have fun with it.
1. Looking for a simpler life, a weary intelligence agent assumes a new identity.
2. While writing an autobiography, a gossip columnist uncovers a hidden family secret.
**For those of you who like to write from prompts, and we hope you do, I have found a book called The Amazing Story Generator. It makes developing your own writing prompts quick and easy.
Sisters
Part 7
by Jamie Baker
The others were just 2 blocks from the apartment when Ken
and Penny Crow pulled up in their VW bus, Ken tapping a couple of short blasts
on the VW’s signature horn.
“Hey, hippies,” Ken called out the driver’s window, “we’re
on our way to a party. Climb aboard.”
Penny reached back and unlatched the side door, sliding it
open with a strong push.
Ginger and Marci flopped onto the rear bench seat, while
Cartwheel packed their shopping bags into the space between the two front seats
and crouched behind them.
“Where’s the party?” Ginger yelled over the whine of the
engine.
“Your place, of course,” Penny laughed back, dangling a
small bag of pot over Cartwheel’s head.
Ken and Penny are cousins, the son and daughter of Denny and
Lincoln Crow, a pair of brothers who married a pair of sisters, Rose and
Charlotte. Ken and Penny look nothing
alike, surprising since they are cousins both maternally and paternally. Penny is blond and dimpled, rosy-cheeked and
blue-eyed. Ken is built similarly, only
an inch or two taller than Penny, but his coloring is startlingly
different. With thick black hair and
deep-set dark eyes on either side of a hawkish nose, he looks Mediterranean
compared to Penny’s Nordic looks. They
grew up together, their respective families living only blocks away from each
other, and now in their early twenties, they share a small cottage a few blocks
from the University, where Penny is an early childhood development major and
Ken works in the maintenance department.
It’s rare to see one without the
other somewhere close by.
Penny, Ken and Carol crowd into a corner of the kitchen,
around an old 1950’s dining set. The
Formica top is scarred with scratches and a few cigarette burns and the vinyl
seats are split, but the tubular chrome legs look like they could last another
50 years. Carol, closest to the window
that looks out onto the courtyard, pulls the curtains closed.
Penny nods at her, “Good idea. I’m Penny and this is Ken.” Penny dumps the
bag of pot into a shoe box lid that Ginger pulls from one of the kitchen
cupboards.
“That’s Carol,” Marci calls from the living room where she
is flipping through a stack of LPs. “She
lives upstairs in number 32.” A few seconds later, Cream’s Strange Brew cranks
up on the turntable.
“Jesus H. Christ, turn it down,” Ginger, at the sink filling
a large pot for spaghetti, yells.
“That’s all we need,” she says to the stream of water, “the neighbors
bitching and moaning and calling the cops.”
The decibel level drops significantly.
“Mellow out,” Ken says, handing her a joint and matches,
“here light this.”
“What’s the H stand for?” Carol asks when Ginger hands her
the joint.
Ginger holds her breath for several seconds before
answering. “Herbert.”
Carol laughs a blast of smoke through her nose.
The joint passes from hand to hand and for a few minutes the
only sounds heard over Ginger Baker are the whistling pull of inhales and
strangled coughs.
Cartwheel hands the joint to Carol, turning back to the
counter where he is slicing a fat loaf of sour dough for garlic bread.
“Oh, shit,” says Marci, “I forgot about Roy. I wonder what happened.”
“Who cares,” says Ginger.
She gets up and pulls a quart bottle of tequila out of an upper
cupboard. “Get the shot glasses out of
that cupboard, Cartwheel.”
“We saw Roy on our way over here. Over on Grant. He was talking to some straight dude, so we
didn’t stop.”
Ginger pushes mismatched shot glasses around the table and
then reaches the bottle out and fills each one.
“What straight dude?” Cartwheel asks.
“I don’t know, just some block head with a crew cut. He reminded me of that recruiter who came to
our high school.” Ken says. He leans back in his chair and downs the shot
with a quick twist of his wrist.
Penny takes a big sip of her shot and shivers. “I remember him,” choking a little on the
tequila. “All ‘Uncle Sam wants you’ and
patriotic and shiney.”
“I doubt Uncle Sam wants Roy ‘Reno’ Brown.” Ginger says.
“How come you’re so pissed at Roy?” Marci says.
“Because he’s an asshole.
Look at that shit he pulled in the store.”
“Well, just because he’s a shop lifter, doesn’t make him an
asshole.”
“Not a shop lifter, a steak lifter.” Carol volunteers and
the others laugh.
“Look,” Ginger says with a grimace, downing her shot, “he
could have got us all in trouble. And
Carol is a minor. I’m sure she doesn’t
want the police knocking on her parent’s door.”
“Gees, Ginger lighten up; they
didn’t even know Roy was with us.” Marci says.
“Besides, he’s an asshole because he’s such a bull
shitter. Thinks he’s such a lady
killer. He puts the moves on every girl
he sees. I bet he even tried to hit on Carol and she’s
a kid. I wouldn’t fuck that dick weed
for a million bucks.”
“For a million bucks?” Marcie is leering suggestively. “Hell, I would.”
“Too late, you already did.
And for free.” Ginger said, pouring out another round of shots. “And
from what I’ve seen, once Roy ‘Reno’ Brown’s got your notch on his belt, he’s
done with you.”
A Short, Short Story
This is more a brief scene than a short story
The Party
by Colleen Weikel
The party had just gotten underway when Frank and Janet arrived. They were the perfect couple, always teasing each other, doting on each other.
I met them in the foyer, "Hi, you two! Come in. Have a drink and mingle."
"Can I bring you a drink, Honey?" Janet asked, gliding toward the bar, almost out of earshot by the time Frank responded.
"Please." Frank turned to me smiling a friendly smile. "So, how is Steve? Still making the mega bucks?"
"Steve is wonderful, but he's gone so much," I replied.
"That's too bad, you must miss him. Maybe he'll take you along on his next trip," he smiled again.
"Perhaps," I replied as Frank touched my hand, "He's leaving Friday for London. He'll be gone two whole weeks," I said, breathless, watching Frank's expression.
He looked toward the bar where Janet was standing, waiting for their drinks and talking to Ben Miller, our neighbor who fancies himself a ladies' man. Frank reached behind me, lightly brushing my shoulder, and leaning against the door frame, smiling down at me.
"London? Nice city," he smiled, "I suppose you'll be working on the fundraiser for the football team while he's away?"
I almost laughed, "Of course. Steve's absences give me a chance to really concentrate on my favorite causes."
His hand found the small of my back and rested there. "What time is he leaving? Maybe I can drive him to the airport."
"He must be there by 9:00 a.m. With all the new regulations since 911, one must check in very early at the airport when going overseas."
Frank tipped his head ever so slightly to the left and, looking directly into my eyes, said, "one must."
A Look at Wayne Stinnett
Last year I found a series of books on Amazon.com by author Wayne Stinnett. They are very different from what I usually read, but I've read and thoroughly enjoyed all 5 in the series and became curious about the author.
Wayne Stinnett has 5 novels to his credit, his first published in 2013: Fallen Palm, Fallen Out, Fallen Mangrove, Fallen Pride and Fallen Hunter. I have read and enjoyed all of them.
Wayne Stinnett has 5 novels to his credit, his first published in 2013: Fallen Palm, Fallen Out, Fallen Mangrove, Fallen Pride and Fallen Hunter. I have read and enjoyed all of them.
Wayne Stinnett was born in West Virginia. At age 12 his family moved to Florida where he grew up in a town called Melbourne. There he and his brothers explored the Indian River lagoon and all of the waterways that flow into it . At 16 he began exploring further and soon found that long island chain known as "The Keys".
Graduated from high school in 1977, he enlisted in the Marine Corps. He visited northern Europe and the Far East, but returned to Florida. Spending much of his free time scuba diving and fishing, he wrote fictional short stories in the early eighties and compiled an extensive list of beach dive spots. He has explored many shipwrecks along what us known as the Treasure Coast.
After his second marriage failed, he bought a sailboat and lived on it in Boot Key Harbor in the Florida Keys. He has also lived on Andros Island in the Bahamas and on Isla de Cozumel in Mexico for short periods while working as a divemaster.
He now lives in the foothills of the Blue Ridge Mountains near the small town of Travelers Rest.
After working for twelve years as a truck driver and writing in his free time, he published his first novel, Fallen Palm, in 2013. The story was based on short stories he had written in the 1980's.
After working for twelve years as a truck driver and writing in his free time, he published his first novel, Fallen Palm, in 2013. The story was based on short stories he had written in the 1980's.
Married for the third time in 2001, the Stinnetts have four children, three grandchildren, two dogs, and a flock of parakeets. They also grow much of their own food in a garden behind their house.
Stinnett still gets down to Florida every now and then, but often it's via his imagination as he writes.
Set in the Florida Keys, the protagonist of all of his books is a retired Marine, Jesse McDermitt, a charter boat Captain who lives on a small island north of Big Pine Key where he explores, dives, and fishes the Florida Bay and the Gulf of Mexico.
Set in the Florida Keys, the protagonist of all of his books is a retired Marine, Jesse McDermitt, a charter boat Captain who lives on a small island north of Big Pine Key where he explores, dives, and fishes the Florida Bay and the Gulf of Mexico.
Glimmer Train New Writer Contest
This category is open only to emerging writers whose fiction has not appeared in any print publication with a circulation over 5000. (Seven of the last eight 1st place New Writer winners have been those authors' first print publications.)
Second- and 3rd-place winners receive $500/$300, respectively, or, if accepted for publication, $700. Winners and finalists will be announced in the February 1 bulletin, and contacted directly the previous week.
Most submissions run 1,500 - 6,000 words, but can be as long as 12,000. Reading fee is $15 per story. Please, no more than three submissions per category. Writing Guidelines: click here
And Finally...
We are always looking for articles and short stories to publish, as well as suggestions for the newsletter. Please send any ideas, stories, etc. to Colleen. We'd love to see any contributions you'd like to make to The Scribblers.
If you no longer wish to receive this newsletter, please email Colleen with the word 'unsubscribe' in the subject line and we will remove you from our mailing list.
We are always looking for articles and short stories to publish, as well as suggestions for the newsletter. Please send any ideas, stories, etc. to Colleen. We'd love to see any contributions you'd like to make to The Scribblers.
If you no longer wish to receive this newsletter, please email Colleen with the word 'unsubscribe' in the subject line and we will remove you from our mailing list.
