#WW : It's Pat

What is it?

#MM ELP

I love these old songs from Emerson, Lake, and Palmer.

Come join Music Monday and share your songs with us. Rules are simple. Leave ONLY the ACTUAL LINK POST here and grab the code below and place it at your blog entry. You can grab this code at LadyJava’s Lounge Please note these links are STRICTLY for Music Monday participants only. All others will be deleted without prejudice.




PS: Because of spamming purposes, the linky will be closed on Thursday of each week at midnight, Malaysian Time. Thank you!

Wewriwa on the Last Weekend of September

Welcome to another addition of the 

Weekend Writing Warriors

Hop on over to the main page and check out the wonderful snippets from a variety of genres.

http://www.wewriwa.com/

Last week I abandoned my YA manuscript and gave my dear readers a middle grade snippet. Here is another sample from MRS. ZIMMERMAN'S DONUTS. Since the manuscript is unpublished, feel free to put on your "Evil Editor" hats and give me some honest yet constructive feedback. I can take it! 

I've struggled to write my metaphor without using words that take the reader off the page. This has been a challenge. To quote Mark Twain, "The difference between the right word and the almost right word is the difference between lightning and a lightening bug." Please help me to strike lightning as I introduce this kid.

✰✰✰✰✰✰✰✰✰✰✰✰✰✰✰✰✰✰

My thoughts and everything else rattled as the door flung open and smashed into the wall. Slater Slatker, the new kid, burst into the room followed by papers flying off desks and swirling into an air dance before settling onto the floor. With a smile that reached from ear to ear, he blew a whirlwind of charm toward my class, and within two minutes, knew them better than I had after five years. Obviously, Slater was used to spinning dirt while making his tornadic path, which meant life wouldn't be the same in the wake of his destruction. His brown Mohawk spiked on top of his head into a stiffly gelled shark fin. He wore faded red shorts and a sleeveless skateboarding T-shirt on that chilly October morning. The entire class turned toward him as he stomped his monstrous Nikes onto the gray tiles. That kid had the biggest darn feet I’d ever seen, and a mouth to match.

✰✰✰✰✰✰✰✰✰✰✰✰✰✰✰✰✰✰

5775

5775 is a palindrome just like my middle school guidance counselor's name, Ms. Otto (O-t-t-o backwards and forwards; toot inside out). But so what. Any guesses what 5775 stands for? Maybe it's the number of hairs lying on our

floors from our two shedding dogs. They shed an awful lot, and I'm too tired after work to vacuum. I need to pick the hairs off the floor and take them to the attic. That way I can scare away the pesky squirrels who have moved in without paying rent. But that's not why I called this post 5775.

5775 could be the number of pixels coming from the horror movie on my TV set. It's called The Watcher and stars James Spader, Keanu Reaves, and Marisa Tomei. Great cast! It's fourteen years old and only has one star, but I started watching it because a long time ago, I read a book by Dean Koontz and thought this could be it. It isn't. Anyway, since I have no idea how many pixels it takes to show a movie any more than how many licks it takes to get to the center of a Tootsie Pop, that's not the reason I called this post 5775.

However, I ate an amazing brisket dinner last night and another yummy meal, today. I'm probably doomed after consuming 5775 calories complete with apples dipped in honey. So I guess that's why this post is called 5775. If you don't believe me, just google 5775 and see what you get. Then, make it a great one!

#WW Late Again

I've been putting in too many hours at work recently, and I'm tired! It was almost eight by the time I walked in the door, so here's something a few teachers could use but wouldn't dare. Thanks, Lisa!

#MM The Missouri Waltz

Nowhere on the internet can I find the words to the Missouri Waltz song that match the ones we sang at the football games, so I'll share from memory. Forgive me if I'm off after all these years.

Mary Margaret Truman was the daughter of the pres.

She lived in the White House with her ugly mother Bess.

There was no sense debating

her high social rating.

She was a member of Pi Beta Phi.

Trouble in the White House there was nothing left to do.

Mary Margaret Truman grabbed her father's fifty-two

and she went to Missouri

and started a brewery

so let's

drink 

Busch!

Come join Music Monday and share your songs with us. Rules are simple. Leave ONLY the ACTUAL LINK POST here and grab the code below and place it at your blog entry. You can grab this code at LadyJava’s Lounge Please note these links are STRICTLY for Music Monday participants only. All others will be deleted without prejudice.




PS: Because of spamming purposes, the linky will be closed on Thursday of each week at midnight, Malaysian Time. Thank you!

Weekend Warrior Writer's - Middle Grade

Weekend Writing Warriors

Check this fun hop out at: 

http://www.wewriwa.com

After attending an SCBWI conference, it looks like middle grade is what's selling, so I'm going to switch focus to another unpublished manuscript, MRS. ZIMMERMAN'S DONUTS. It's the story of a fifth grade outcast taken under the mismatched wings of a new boy in town. Is that cruel not to answer the door from last week? Sorry.

Here are my first eight lines. Please tell me if you'd keep reading––actually that may not be the right question since many of you write dirty romance novels and wouldn't turn the page of any kid's book, but humor me. I'm looking for an honest critique that will help me bring my work up to the publication level. Thanks!

CHAPTER ONE

 

            Randy slammed into my shoulder with a “Move it, Will,” on his way to Harrison Zimmerman’s desk. Telling me to move was better than putting an /L/ in on my forehead and getting the class to chant loser until Ms. Benson's face turned red. The kid bounced on his toes while kissing up to Harrison, who had the power to share glazed, creamy, chocolaty, or powdery treats. 

“Keaton told me your mom’s making a new kind of donut.”

            Harrison’s tongue swept across his upper lip like a fat frog grabbing his fly––not the zipper. “It's called The S’More––Chocolate, marshmallows, and gram crackers.” His beaming meant­ his stupid end-of-the-week party with the The S’More as the guest of honor. On Monday guys will boast about Mrs. Zimmerman's homemade donuts dipped in chocolate sauce or gooey cherry filling.

#WW: After Fifty Shades of Gray