Dream Reader: Dear Coop

September 18, 2014October 21, 2016 / Sheila McIntrye Good, Author / 2 Comments

Blogging 101 Challenge : publish a post for your dream reader, and include a new-to-you element in it (Post 1 of 3 in this series).

Dearest Coop,

I fell in love with you the moment I looked into your deep brown eyes. I wasn’t expecting to and I know my husband didn’t when he introduced us. You came into my life at just the right moment, filling and empty void.

It was a good thing my husband wasn’t the jealous type. He worked and said whatever made me happy. “At least you won’t be moping around the house any longer.” I think he meant it in the nicest way.

Coop, I loved our walks and the afternoons we spent cuddled together. Those were my favorite times with you. I miss them.

Leaving you was the hardest thing I ever had to do.

(to be continued)

Happy Radars – The Eyes Have It

September 17, 2014October 21, 2016 / Sheila McIntrye Good, Author / 2 Comments

DAILY PROMPT @ DAILY POST

Are you a good judge of other people’s happiness? Tell us about a time you were spot on despite external hints to the contrary (or, alternatively, about a time you were dead wrong).

The eyes have it for me. They tell the story despite the external hints to the contrary. The clowns taught me this lesson many years ago when I attended the circus. I adored the clowns.

Laughter is good for the soul. I fell in love with the clowns and laughter and in those moments began a love affair with me and comedy. The clowns outrageously large, red feet, afro hair, and red noses kept the whole tent laughing. Of all the acts that evening, the clowns with their white faces, wide red lips and the unusual marks around the eyes were the most memorable. I left believing what a fun-filled life they must lead.

When they stopped dancing and performing for us, one of them took an elaborate bow right in front of me. When he raised his head, our eyes met and I saw the truth behind the paint. Pain. I was too young at the time to understand. Without a word, he stepped forward and handed me a fake flower, then turned away, waved to the crowd and was gone.

Afterwards, for many years I collected clowns. Dolls, figurines, and paintings. It was the eyes which drew me. I longed to know their story, to figure out what it was I had seen in the eyes of the clown at the circus. If only they could talk.

Then I found comedians and boy did they talk. They kept me laughing as long as I listened. Gradually, I packed the clowns away and turned on Pandora tuning into my favorite comedy channel. I’d listen or watch the comedians with the same delight as I’d watched the clowns. “God, living with them must be a blast,” I’d think. They look so happy, so much fun.

Ah, but the eyes the have it, they tell the real story, the truth behind the mask. Once again, I was dead wrong. The loss of one of the greatest comedians, Robin Williams made it clear. Finally I knew the answer. Pain. I had seen pain, the truth behind the painted face, the mask of comedy. Words covered as well as paint.

We all have our masks.

When You Can’t Think of a New Idea

January 7, 2013June 26, 2015 / Sheila McIntrye Good, Author / 4 Comments

When you can’t think of a new idea, and it feels as if your mind is running up against a blank wall,what do you do?

It happens to writers no matter their skill or level. There are a zillion reasons why it happens, but sometimes it’s as simple as life overload. It can be very distressing and if you allow it, take the joy out of writing. However, there are easier ways to find new inspiration and reignite your writing.

1. Sometimes reviewing the basics help me remember things I’d forgotten. After looking back over notes and articles important points about character, settings, or plot are once again fresh in my mind, giving me new ideas. Every Writers Resource is currently offering free online writing courses beginning with the basics. The lessons are brief and the assignments get you back to writing in no time.

2. Utilize prompts.Your choice. It doesn’t have to be a link-up or complicated, just write. I like using Oneword, a 60 second prompt with no link-ups, but there are many other sites where you can share the prompt with other writer’s. 750words.com is another site which encourages you to write by keeping count of the number of words each day. It is completely private and worth checking out.

3. Join a writer’s group. The support you receive from your peers will be invaluable. Whether it’s a group for instruction, writing prompts, guest speakers, or critiques, the support you receive from one another will make you a better and more informed writer.

So, find a way to inspire yourself. This is your chance to tell your story, one word at a time. Happy writing.

Your book isn’t going to write itself. (teaseainc.com)
Five Ways to Get Inspiration for Your Novel (takayta.wordpress.com)
Why I write at least 750 words a day (ialja.blogspot.com)
In praise of 750 Words (householdopera.typepad.com)
25 tools to keep you in your writing groove (onewildword.com)

The Seduction Of Art

July 20, 2012October 20, 2017 / Sheila McIntrye Good, Author / 3 Comments

I tugged nervously on the hem of the expensive new dress, the lady at the boutique had said, “Fit me like a glove and accentuated my best features,” and entered the room filled to overflowing with rich and glamorous art enthusiasts.

The product of a small no-nothing town, I was new to the big city with its whirlwind of activity, lights, and glitz; but I shoved my own insecurities aside when the company handed me the invitation; this was my new beginning.

Conscious of a few heads turning as I strolled through the gallery, I clutched the small evening bag tighter in an effort to still the niggling edge of doubt and began to wonder if the sexy, new dress with its draping backline had been a mistake.

I did not hear him approach as I stood staring at the painting with is vibrant mishmash of colors, swirls, zigzags and bleeding crimson black, just the whisper of his words carried on the soft scent of his cologne, “The most beautiful work of art in the place,” he said.

I turned to see who, in their right mind, would call this painting beautiful, but the intensity of his gaze robbed me of my voice as he lifted my hand from the clutched bag bringing it to his lips, “I was speaking of you,” he said.