Bronwyn Green

If each decade of your life was represented by a song, what would they be?

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May 23, 2018

Hmmmm… somehow, I thought this was going to be an easier post than it ended up being.

Surprise!

It’s not.

Okay, so songs representing each decade of my life.

Let’s see…

0-10 Um…this is a hard one. This was the time of Wildly Inappropriate Lullabies, and innocence and loss, and I’m not really sure what song would represent all that. Actually…wait. I do. Susan Mckeown’s “A Mháire Bhruinneall”. I never heard this song when I was a kid, and I’ve no clue what the lyrics mean…because Irish. But the whole vibe of this song feels like innocence and loss and freedom.

Oh, or this one.”My Mother’s Savage Daughter” nicely sums up this decade and then some.

“I am my mother’s savage daughter, the one who runs barefoot cursing sharp stones. I am my mother’s savage daughter. I will not cut my hair. I will not lower my voice.”

11-20: Gotta give it to “Safety Dance” from Men without Hats. This just perfect sums up my high school and college life with my friends. Probably not coincidentally, I discovered ren faires around this time, too. No one is surprised.

21-30: Ah, the childbirth and and learning how to mom years. Shriekback’s “Cradle Song” is definitely the song for this decade. It manages to perfectly encompass the the beauty and terror of parenthood.

31-40: Um…let’s call this fuck the patriarchy years (which will never stop, btw) and we’ve got two songs by the same artist for this one because I couldn’t decide which was more fitting.

“Little Plastic Castle” and “32 Flavors” by Ani Difranco

40 – 50 Soooooo many choices here, but I’ll try to narrow it down to a few.

“The Blessings” by Dar Williams

“And the blessings were like poets that we never take time to know, but when time stopped I found the place where poets go. They said, “Here, have some coffee, it’s straight black and very old, and they gave me sticks and rocks and stars and all that I could hold.”

“Send Me On My Way” by Rusted Root (now, and forever, really.)

“Landslide” by Stevie Nicks/Fleetwood Mac–of course.

What songs would you pick? Be sure to check out the other bloggers’ song choices.

Gwen * Siobhan * Kris

Flash Fiction #82 – Slow and Steady

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May 21, 2018

This month’s song fic is based on “Slow and Steady” by Of Monsters and Men. Here’s the video if you want to give it a listen, and here are the lyrics.

The cold wind blows harder, and I huddle in my coat, Spring is late this year. Every time I think it’s arrived, winter returns for another visit. Even now, I glance up and see that the branches are frosted with snow. And in front of my, my shadow stretches in the watery yellow light, across the hole in the ground.

I know that I should go. They’re waiting, trying to hide their impatience. They’d rather be back in their warm cars–back to their lives–away from the empty silence of this barren landscape.

Pushing slowly to my feet, I toss the flowers I’ve been clutching in my frozen hands into the hole. They land with an oddly hollow thud that echoes in my chest, and I wonder if anyone else felt the impact. But, it’s clear they haven’t. Their eyes glimmer with barely masked impatience as they shift from foot to foot.

“Come on, Grandma. Let’s get you home.”

Shaking off his hand, I move, slow and steady toward the car, letting my fingertips drift across the tops of the headstones as I make my way past the ones I used to know.

Be sure to check out the other bloggers’ stories.

Sarah * Siobhan

Promptly Penned: She Died Doing What She Loved.

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May 16, 2018

It’s time for another Promptly Penned post–flash fiction that starts from a word prompt. The prompt will be in bold in the story.

“Motherfucking piece of shit,” Lucy muttered, trying to untangle the thread that had pulled through the other side of the fabric, making it impossible to gather this portion of the ridiculously wide skirt.

Who needed twelve panels of fifty-four inch wide fabric for a skirt, anyway? This was a high school musical, for fuck’s sake. The costumes didn’t need to be historically accurate. No one here was going to be in the running for a Tony. But here she was, gathering together 648 inches of godawful mint green acetate taffeta. As if poly-blend fabric was somehow period.

She glanced around the airless closet the school’s theatre department had been allotted for their costume shop. Bolt after bolt of mint green taffeta towered above her on top of the hutch she was using as a makeshift sewing table. Then, there were the boxes of other fabric and notions haphazardly piled everywhere. They’d long ago overflowed the old metal filing cabinet, and costumes and pattern pieces draped precariously over open drawers. If she wasn’t careful, everything would come crashing down, and she’d be trapped in this room forever.

Finally. She’d managed to pin the oversize skirt to the reinforced bodice. Now, to get it basted on so she could try it on her stepdaughter. If she could get the kid to cooperate long enough to fit it to her. Thus far into Lucy’s three year marriage, Hannah had wanted nothing to do with her stepmother.

“Get involved in something she likes,” Lucy’s wife, Candice had suggested. “Bond with her that way. You love sewing. Why don’t you volunteer to be on the costume committee for the spring musical?”

Lucy had told her that it wouldn’t make a difference. Hannah refused to warm up to her no matter what Lucy did. But in the end, she’d agreed. And now here she was, sewing hideous dresses to impress a kid who would only speak to her through her another person.

She slid the fabric beneath the foot and lowered it, pinning the the dress to the feeddog and began sewing, trying not to drip sweat on anything. What she really needed in here was a fan. Or air conditioning.

She pushed harder on the foot peddle, speeding up as she headed toward basque waist. The needle hit a pin and snapped, the tip flying backward to hit her in the eye. “Motherfuckingsonofabitch!”

Lucy jerked back, blinking rapidly, her eye burning and tearing. A groaning sound dragged her blurry gaze upward just in time to see all of the piled bolts and boxes tumbling toward her.

Hundreds of pounds of fabric crashed into her, knocking her to the ground, completely covering her. She kicked out, trying to crawl out from beneath the pile, and her foot made contact with her makeshift sewing table. As the terrifying wobble and groan of wood registered, Lucy realized the huge wooden hutch hadn’t been attached.

“Fucking fuckbal–”

As her consciousness flickered and faded, her last thought had been, At least, she died doing what she loved–swearing profusely.

Be sure to check out the other bloggers’ stories, too.

Gwen * Siobhan

Brain Dump: May

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May 9, 2018

Welp…it’s May. I don’t even know how that happened. It’s like I blinked, and almost half the damn year’s over.

So, what’s on my mind…buckle up, I forgot my evening dose of Adderall, and shortly, it’ll probably be pretty obvious.

The biggest thing on my mind right now, are my lungs and their inability to function properly. I’m now in day 8 of the worst asthma flare I’ve had in years. The breathing treatments and the steroids are helping, but I’m not back to normal yet. But, I’m slowly getting there.
I’m really proud of my daughter. She just finished up her final term of her undergrad degree, and we’re all thrilled. My baby now has a degree in psych. And she had to learn a harsh management lesson today. She’s the manager of a neighborhood ice cream shop, and one of her employees had to be written up several times for being on her phone instead of working. Well, she got pissed about that and decided to be incredibly hurtful. My daughter, as a lot of you know, is transgender. Since she came out, I’m grateful to say that she’s been surrounded with far more love and support than negativity. However, that hasn’t been the case with this particular employee who decided that misgendering her and talking shit about the fact that she’s trans was the way to vent her anger. My daughter’s boss told her that he didn’t want a bigot working for him, and that my daughter could fire her or, if she didn’t feel comfortable, he’d do it. My daughter opted to do it, and while she didn’t enjoy it, she’s feeling good about standing up for herself. And I’m feeling good about that, too.
As I’m typing up this post, there are: 38 Days: 10 Hours: 35 Minutes: 03 Seconds ’til Jenny Trout and I leave to meet Jess Jarman and Kris Norris for our annual writing retreat! (Not that I’m counting.)
My mom is knitting me, quite possibly, the coolest sweater in the world. I’ll show it off when it’s done.
I’m still dealing quite a bit with depression and anxiety and difficulty writing, but I’m hoping that I’m coming to the end of this stretch.
My husband is very loudly rustling the Skinny Pop bag, and I may have to stab him.
#cockygate is an amazingly awful train wreck I can’t look away from while simultaneously being horrified and disgusted that it’s even happening. My husband is also super invested–to the point where I read him tweets in the morning while he’s getting ready for work.
Did you know you can actually bruise your throat from coughing? Well, you can. 0/10 – Do not recommend.
My husband smashed a spider for my daughter using his phone. But he realized he only got half of it. He grabbed some tissue to wipe up the rest, and the OTHER HALF WAS FUCKING GONE. Also 0/10 Really do not recommend. (I’m actively considering burning down the house.)
I have a new gig on Monday nights. I’m babysitting for a dear friend and her hilarious and adorable kids. They absolutely crack me up and remind me about the good parts about doing daycare.
It’s very difficult to find a 2018 calendar in mid-May.
I’ve been listening to the narration for OUT OF SYNC, and holy fuck, you guys, this dude’s voice is INSANELY HOT.
I need to get some fabric samples together for a project.
I’m feeling at a bit of a loss, because I don’t know what book to release next.
In other book news, and a segue that makes sense, I’ve gotten all my rights returned from various publishers, so I’ll be re-editing and re-releasing a bunch of books. But, not all at once. That would be overwhelming. First up, will be what was formerly known as The Witch Way series. It’s now bundled into one, and it’s called The Charmed Collections, and I absolutely cannot wait to show you guys the freaking gorgeous cover Norris made me! It’s stunning.

Okay, so this is probably enough brain scramble for tonight. I’ve gotta get upstairs and do another breathing treatment and try to get some sleep. I’d actually like to write tomorrow.

Be sure to check out the other authors’ brain dumps, too.

Jessica * Kris * Siobhan * Gwen

Flash Fiction #81 – Bridges

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May 7, 2018

Please welcome our newest member, Sarah Moore! She’ll be taking part in the flash fiction and promptly penned posts. Now, back your your regularly scheduled story.

It was only day five of their big European vacation–the one they’d scrimped and saved for for the last five years. Cammy adjusted her ponytail as it was coming loose, falling behind Derek’s long-legged pace. They were on yet another walking tour of another tiny French town. Well, it was less walking tour and more forced march.

So far, the trip wasn’t anything like what she’d envisioned. There were no long lingering glances, while sipping wine at sidewalk cafés. She hadn’t been able to lose herself in any of the works of art she’d been dying to see for as long as she could remember.

She hadn’t been particularly upset when they’d only taken a cursory peek at the Mona Lisa. She’d always thought it had been overrated, anyway. But she’d waited a lifetime to lose herself in The Church at Auvers. The vivid blues of falling night on Van Gogh’s canvases were like no other blues she’d ever seen. They were blues she wanted to fall into. To submerge herself in. To breathe.

But Derek had stood behind her, hands clasped, rocking slowly on the balls of his feet. It was the same thing he’d done at her mother’s funeral this past winter. She’d put it down to his discomfort with grief and emotional displays. But after the his behavior at the d’Orsay, she now wondered if he’d simply been bored. If her family’s loss had inconvenienced him.

She glanced at him. He’d moved even farther along the bridge, never noticing she wasn’t right behind him.Derek had been too impatient, always moving, always looking ahead to the next item on his list. The next goal to achieve. There never seemed to be even a moment where he took the time to enjoy the moment. To appreciate his accomplishments. To appreciate her.

Cammy smiled slightly at the couple walking toward her. Every so often, they’d lean close to together as they wandered, their heads nearly touching, their fingers grazing each other. She stifled a laugh. And Derek had only now realized she wasn’t with him. He stood, watching her–impatiently, if she had to guess–but she was too far away to tell.

He began rocking slowly on the balls of his feet, and she swallowed back the burning rush of tears. They might be crossing this bridge together, but she realized they were no longer headed in the same direction.

That’s it for me, this month. Be sure to check out the other bloggers’ stories.

Sarah * Gwen * Siobhan

Wordless Wednesday: May

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May 2, 2018

Finally! Some daffodils!

A cross stitch sampler I made my daughter.

My niece and her unicorn she named, Yogurt.

Willow deciding I don’t need any personal space.

My nieces and their unicorns.

PS: If you want one of these adorable unicorns or a ton of other fabulous crocheted stuff, go see my friend, Tonya!

My niece and nephew at their high school’s production of Sugar.

My prettiful new nose ring.

Be sure to check out the other bloggers’ posts.

Jess * Gwen * Kris * Siobhan

MONTHLY GOALS CHECK-IN: APRIL 2018

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April 27, 2018

Ugh. This month, you guys. It’s been a bit of a clusterfuck what with the festival of stress, anxiety, depression having the neurotransmitter equivalent of a kegger in my brain. *sigh*

But, this will eventually pass, right?

RIGHT?!

(Please feel free to lie convincingly to me, here.)

Anyway, it’s time for the monthly check-in, so let’s see what I promised myself I’d do, shall we?

Complete all scheduled blog posts (Yep. 9 posts including three flash fics.)
Complete all scheduled audio preps (Almost. I’ve done 5, but I’ll have 7 done by the end of the month.)
Complete all scheduled edits (Almost. Will have both finished by the 30th.)
Actually finish the short story (Sigh. Nope.)
Figure out what I’m writing next (Also sigh and nope.)
Get my tax crap together (Yes. Thank fuck.)

I did build a new website, so that’s something.

So, for May (how the hell is that possible?!), I plan to:

Complete all scheduled blog posts
Complete all scheduled audio preps
Complete all scheduled edit
FINALLY finish the short story
Figure out what I’m going to work on when we’re on retreat in 50 Days: 8 Hours: 11 Minutes: 29 Seconds

Be sure to check out Gwen’s post and see what she got up to this month.

Top Ten: Things I Want Accomplished Ten Years From Now

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April 25, 2018

So, I’m not sure if these are supposed to be things I want to personally accomplish or things that I want accomplished in general–because I have a long-ass list of those. But, if were going with personal accomplishments, here they are, in no particular order–just like my life.

10.) I’d like to be making an actual living on just my writing.

9.) I’d like to have had multiple big UK and Ireland adventures.

8.) I’d like to meet all my internet friends in real life.

7.) I’d like to have all the novels, I currently have ideas for, written.

6.) I’d like to have this whole self-care thing figured out.

5.) I’d like to get through my backlog of sewing, knitting and cross stitch projects.

4.) I’d like to get through my TBR pile.

3.) I’d like to own a vacation cottage by Lake Superior.

2.) I’d like to achieve bestseller status.

1.) I’d like this freaking house rewired and replumbed.

Be sure to check out Gwen’s list.

Finding fault is way too easy, so today…we’re trying something different.

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April 18, 2018

As anyone with questionable self-esteem can tell you, the above sentiment is one of the hardest things in the world to do. No, really. But, today’s blog topic is making a list of our favorite things about ourselves.

Ugh.

Okay, so…let’s see. Favorite things about myself…

1.) I’m usually really good with kids. Probably because I genuinely like them. Even other people’s kids.

2.) I’m crafty as fuck. I love to make stuff. And often, I’m pretty good at it. Thus far, there’s really only one craft that I’ve tried that I can’t do and one that I wont do. Crocheting because it’s dark sorcery and paper mâché because touching wet paper literally makes me vomit.

3.) I’m good at picking out and/or making meaningful gifts for people. And Christmas is really the only time I get competitive. I’m the Leslie Knope of gift giving. I really love to give and make gifts, and usually, I’m damn good at it.

Aaaaaand I’m going to stop now. I feel like three is a decent number, and honestly? I’m just too uncomfortable trying to think of any more of these.

Be sure to check out the other bloggers’ posts. I bet they’re better at this sort of thing.

Deelylah * Gwen

Flash Fiction #80 – Dive

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April 16, 2018

This month’s song fic was inspired by Ed Sheeran’s Dive. Here’s the video if you’d like to see or hear the song, and here are the lyrics.

Weirdly, the very first song fic we ever did was also an Ed Sheeran song, and even though I don’t often continue flash fiction pieces, that story kept popping back into my head when I was reading the lyrics to this one. You can read that short fic first if you want or just jump ahead to this one.

I sank down onto a chair at the kitchen table, willing my head to stop it’s merciless throbbing. My eyes were still gritty and burned every time I blinked. I still had a headache from those fucking dryer sheets Molly used on our bedding. Or maybe it was the fact that I’d silently cried myself to sleep last night wiping away my tears with sheets that smelled like a funeral home.

She bustled around the kitchen packing her lunch, making coffee, and talking non-stop about a grant proposal she was writing. Once upon a time, I’d hung on every word she said. She’d been my muse, and I’d been her… Her what? I honestly didn’t know anymore. Maybe I’d deluded myself to think that I’d ever been anything more than her safe place to land. And now, I was just something that was too comfortable to get rid of–like her ratty blue cardigan.

“Amy?”

I looked up, surprised to see her standing in front of me. I hadn’t even realized she’d moved from the counter.

She set down a cup of coffee in front of me, made just the way I like it, and gently brushed my hair out of my face. “You okay, baby?”

I closed my eyes and tears seeped from beneath my lashes, scalding my cheeks. “Please don’t call me that.”

Her fingers stilled in my hair. “What?”

I opened my eyes and stared up at the woman I still loved. “Please don’t call me that unless you mean it.”

That’s it for me today. Be sure to check out the other bloggers’ stories.

Mark * Siobhan * Gwen