A Writer's Farewell

     It was a brisk, clear afternoon when I created you.  The leaves were turning brilliant shades of yellow and red outside my window, just as I feel a shroud of gray covering my heart today.  I must say good bye to you my beautiful, my sweet, my creation.  Go now with the knowledge that you were loved.  Go now with the knowledge that you were, for a time, needed.  Rest well in darkness.

My Sincerest Apologies,

Elizabeth Michels

The Starbucks Scene

The first scene sacrificed to editing

from A Matter of Time

     Laura could feel the warmth of Xavier’s large masculine hand on her back urging her forward, closer into his arms. But could she trust him? Was he just here to do Trevor’s bidding and to seduce her riches away from her? Then in the next moment her thoughts of staying away from him for the sake of her own future tumbled out of head as his lips descended upon hers, warm and soft.   

     Xavier skimmed his hand down the side of her neck causing her to shiver, he looked deeply into her eyes and said, “Laura, I want you, it is our destiny to be together, as one.”

     Laura could feel the heat of Xavier surrounding her, pressing against her breasts as she arched into his arms hungry for more, at any cost to her future .  In one amazing……  

     “Abby?”

     Startled by the sound of someone calling her name from the far end of the barista counter Abby snapped shut the romance novel she was reading and placed it quickly on the small round bistro table; nearly dumping the real African fabric decorated coffee mug containing her grande mocha latte all over her low fat raspberry muffin.  While she struggled to stabilize the coffee she glanced up sheepishly to see who was calling her name. 

     “Great… of all people,” Abby mumbled coarsely under her breath. 

     Who else was it but Brittany Brooks walking her way, looking like she just stepped off a runway?  Brittany, with her long flowing blonde hair, the type of hair that always fell perfectly around her disgustingly pretty face.  She looked like a million bucks, and was probably wearing close to it from what Abby had heard.  They had lived on the same hall at Converse College, Abby left with a Bachelors of Arts, and Brittany left with the same plus an M.r.s. Degree courtesy of a starting linebacker for the Carolina Panthers.  Brittany was one of those girls that made Abby feel instantly self-conscious of what she was wearing, how thin she looked in it, and how successful she was in life.  

     Why had she worn this today Abby wondered.  A sundress and flip flops?  What had she been thinking?  Well at least, last she checked, she was having a good hair day today. 

     Abby adjusted her purse to a more prominent position on the chair beside her, as if the small metal Coach symbol would protect her more against the coming attack than the thickest armor shield.  When Abby glanced down to reaffirm that she was in fact wearing clothing at all, she noticed her book lying on the table in front of her with the cover face up.  The cover featured a muscular open shirted man looking passionately at a woman in a revealing ball gown fainting into his open arms. 

     Gasping, she quickly flipped the book over to lay face down on the table in hopes it would look like something from fine literature, and make her appear highly intellectual.  Abby put on her party smile and slid her hand back in her lap so little miss perfect would not see her un-manicured fingers. 

     “Abby?.....Abby Rhode.  Why it’s been ages since I’ve seen you.  What are you doing here?”

     “Oh, I live here now.  I just bought a……um, a historic home here in Charleston..” Abby hesitated as she responded; thinking historic was a nice way of putting it.

     “A historic home, oh that is just lovely, I hope you have a good contractor for any upgrades you want to do.  I should give you the number of the company we used to build our vacation house in Banner Elk North Carolina.  It was featured in Architectural Digest, you know,” Brittany said dismissively.

     “Thank you, but I am using a local company, excellent group, they came highly recommended from several sources,” or picked randomly from the yellow pages Abby thought as the words left her lips.  “I’m doing an extensive restoration; I just talked to Southern Living the other day about a feature article when it is finished.” 

     “Well isn’t that nice, do send me a copy of the issue when you have the home shot won’t you?”  Brittany replied with an air of sarcasm in her voice.  “So, there’s a special someone now?  You’re not doing this alone are you, Abby?  I have to say just finding time to meet with my interior designer was a headache when we renovated Stephen’s house to make it more to my taste.  By the time we chose the granite for the second kitchen off of the home theater, I just didn’t care anymore, you know what I mean?”

     “The house is mine.” Abby said defiantly then decided to embellish the truth of her life slightly.  ”I am seeing someone, though.”  And maybe just a few details to make it believable, “He’s a doctor, a uhhhh neurosurgeon.  He is actually the reason I moved to Charleston. 

     “Really?  Well isn’t that delightful, which hospital?”

     Abby panicked.  She had not been in Charleston for more three weeks; she didn’t know the names of the hospitals.  Other than the nearest Starbucks, gas station, and the number for pizza delivery, she didn’t know much of anything.

     “Well,” Abby thought quickly.  “He’s at the main one, the uh, big one….downtown, here in Charleston, where we are.  Yes, he’s the reason I moved to Charleston.”

     “Oh, how nice.  We should all do dinner together later this week,” Brittany replied, confusion briefly clouding her perfect face.

     Abby tried to shake off the lies pouring unchecked out of her mouth and steer the conversation back to safe territory.  “Mmmm, so what brings you to Charleston, last I heard you were living in..”

     “Ohh, I’m down from Charlotte for the week while Stephen is having the yacht packed up for the cruise to Paradise Island for a little vaca,” Brittany said visually sizing up Abby’s current lifestyle in one almost imperceptible sweep of her violet eyes.  “I was just out looking for the perfect pair of poolside shoes to match one of my swimsuit cover-ups, and I just cannot find a thing that’ll work.  Of course, all of our clothes for the trip were custom made through my personal shopper.  But, the shoes she brought over before I left were just awful.  Oh, the hassle of it all, you know?  Did you hear that Jennifer is pregnant?  Yeah, Matthew is so happy about it.  We just met up with them last week at this fabulous new restaurant back home, and she looks fabulous.  Pregnant, eating everything in sight, and still so thin, don’t you just hate her?  Of course we do go to the same trainer so I can’t be too critical.”  Brittany laughed looking at Abby’s low fat raspberry muffin with an air of silent judgment.

     “That is wonderful news, I’m so happy for them.” Abby said pleasantly.  “How do you like living in Charlotte?”

     “Love it!  It’s such a great city.  And Stephen is really happy with the Panthers.  He’ll be busy with the season soon, so Angela and I, you remember Angela, don’t you?  Anyway, we’re planning a trip to New York to shop and see shows while the hubbies are busy.  Oh, that’s my blackberry, I better go, sweetie.  So great seeing you.  We should get together soon” Brittany said in a tone meant to be believable, but never followed through with an actual getting together, as she answered her phone.  “Hi honey, how was golf this morning?  Oh, good. Yes, I’ll be back soon.  Love you too, bye bye……Bless his heart he just can’t do a thing without me.  See you later.”  Throwing up a airy group of diamond studded, French manicured fingers in farewell, Brittany turned and glided out the door. 

     As quickly as she had come, she was gone.  She had however spent enough time to take the good afternoon Abby was having and reduce it to a low fat raspberry hell.  Brittany had the sweetest way of doing that to people.  Not that she was a malicious destroyer of good days, she was just better, she was an elegant steak dinner and made Abby feel like a cold tuna sandwich by comparison. She had officially been delivered the Christmas Card as she liked to think of it.  Everything is perfect, everyone is happy, I lost ten pounds without trying and have enough spare money that my only concern in life is the perfect pair of pool shoes for island vacations.  Abby tossed her hair back and took a large defiant bite of her muffin with her chin raised toward the now closed double doors leading onto King Street.  So what if she gained a pound from its delicious fluffy innate muffin-ness?  Who would notice, her fictitious neurosurgeon boyfriend or the fictitious photo journalist from Southern Living?  “Oh my goodness, I really said that, didn’t I?  How embarrassing,” Abby mumbled into her coffee, completely disgusted with herself for her poor lying skills.   Why, oh why, had she not sat upstairs on the balcony overlooking the main floor of the Starbucks?  She could have gone on with her day blissfully unaware that Brittany was even in town.  

     Pulling herself together, Abby looked over the shopping bags at her feet and remembered that her life was not all that bad.  Shopping was supposed to make you feel happy and pretty, not depressed, unless shopping for swim suits, that was always depressing.  She smiled and forced herself to think of all that was good about today.  She had found the perfect antique-looking candle holder for her historic home while in a little shop down the street, and a cute new shirt in Banana Republic.  Abby sighed forcing a pleasant smile to her face and gathered her bags to leave. 

Words for 2011

What is your New Year’s resolution?  I have found that I’m compulsively asking that question of everyone I know.  The problem is that I don’t have one.  After I said about a week ago that I was vowing to make up my bed every morning of 2011 and Mr. Alpha Male laughed me out of the room, I find that I’m not all that resolved about anything.  My only resolution is to keep living everyday and working everyday toward my goals, just as I have done all of 2010.  But, that is nothing new.  So instead of declaring a resolution for the new year, I am choosing to have words to live by for 2011. 

The first words to live by come from my Dad when I was a little girl.  Every time I can recall scraping a knee or bumping an elbow and would crumple to the ground in a ball of crying blonde mush, he would say, “Hurry and get up before you get hurt.”  Not only is this great advice for playing any sport where trampling is an issue, it is great life advice.  We all fall down in some way or another be it job loss, divorce, parenting mishaps, or just day to day foibles.  However, the faster we pick ourselves up and move on, the less hurt will set into our bones. 

The second words to live by come from the guy that taught me in driver training when I was 15.  I have no idea what his name was, but I remember when he said, “Don’t look at the cars, look at the space between them.  Don’t look at where you can’t go, look at where you can go.”  Not only did this get me over my fear of changing lanes, it got me over my fear of changing tracks in life.  This wild journey we are on weaves us onto some of the most unexpected roads and occasionally it leaves us stranded at a truck stop or two.  However, if we look at where we can go the options are limitless.

In 2011 I will continue to get up and look where I can go every day. 

I will continue to live every day to the fullest.

 I will live on faith, love and coffee, just as I have in 2010.

And, on at least a few of the days in 2011, I will make my bed. 

What is your New Year’s resolution?

There'll be Parties for Hosting, Marshmallows for Roasting...

I looked up from my Christmas present wrapping to see my little boy sitting in the middle of a tangled mess of red ribbon.  It was wrapped around his little fingers lying in twists and turns all around him on the floor.  He beamed with happiness at his accomplishment.  While I had been busy measuring and cutting in the floor beside him, he had been busy unwinding an entire spool of ribbon in his lap. 

“Look Mommy, I have tape in one hand and ribbon in the other,” he said quoting his favorite Curious George story. 

Normally this is when my “Oh no, there’s a mess” tendencies kick in, but this time I just laughed.  We were having too much fun wrapping Mr. Alpha Male’s Christmas presents to worry about messes.  I have discovered recently that in trying to meet preholiday work deadlines, getting ready for parties, baking cookies, and buying gifts; I have forgotten to just enjoy the Christmas season.  My nose has either been in my laptop, or I’ve been scurrying around with a mile long to do list.  I have not stopped to enjoy the simple pleasure of laughing while wrapping presents or actually watching a cheesy Christmas movie on tv.  It’s an easy mistake to make, to live for the day at the end of the paper chain and not take the time to enjoy all the little links in between that make up the Christmas season.

“It’s not Christmas.” My little boy utters those words every morning when I go into his room to wake him up for the past week.  And every morning I tell him, “It’s not Christmas day, but it is the Christmas Season.”  The anticipation of Christmas Day is almost too much for any two year old to bare.  The presents, the cookies, the lights, the friends and the family that are all wrapped up into what makes Christmas the most wonderful time of the year.  But are we just counting down the days, or living everyday with the love that this season is built around?

Counting down the days…I can remember as a child making chains of red and green construction paper to symbolize the passing days to Christmas.  I would hang it on the wood paneled wall of the family room by the door to the kitchen.  Unfortunately, I don’t think my daily Christmas reminder ever made it to the big day, as I grew up with two older brothers that liked to jump and rip and tackle.  I’ve been thinking about my little paper chains this year more than ever because I am not only counting down the days to Christmas, but also counting down words left to write until I finish my book.

 I think as we get older we never really lose that sense of wonder involved with looking forward to a big box with a bright red bow under the tree on Christmas morning.  Instead, I think it is only what is wrapped up in those packages that changes over the years.  Is it simply survival of all the shopping, family visits and parties that await us under the tree?  The end of a long difficult journey of writing a book is wrapped up and waiting for me under the tree this year.  And yet, I am making an effort to experience and live everyday of the paper chain that is this beautiful season.  The end of the paper chain will be here before you know it.  What is at the end of your paper chain?  And more importantly, what should be cherished in the small loops of red and green somewhere in the middle?

Merry Christmas!

Tiny Slips of Paper

“Hang on, my checkbook must be in here somewhere,” I told the thickly accented lady on the phone as I dug with one hand through an accumulation of tiny slips of paper.  It never ceases to amaze me how quickly I am able to collect the debris of life inside my purse or how long I am willing to carry it around with me everywhere I go.  When I hung up the phone, I weighed my bag in my hand and became aware of how heavy it had become. 

“That’s it!  I can’t take it anymore,” I told my two year old as he popped another grape in his mouth, perched on a barstool at the kitchen island. 

“That’s it,” he repeated, laughing. 

As I dug into my cleaning project I pulled out handfuls of receipts, grocery lists, to do lists, coupons, business cards, bills, prescriptions, and advertisements, then piled them all on the counter before me.  It was then that I realized, my life could be summed up by these tiny slips of paper.  Where I’ve been, what I’ve bought, what I need to do, what I worry about, it was all there in print in a crumpled pile of paper.   

Which leads me to my question of the day:  Are we living our lives in large murals or on tiny slips of paper?

Life gets distracting, or should I say the necessary paying of bills, going to doctor appointments, going to the grocery store, taking the kids to school, and getting work done part of life gets distracting.  And, it is all too easy to get caught up in the day to day minutia of life and forget to live.  I think life should be about family and friends, sunshine on your face and wind in your hair, laughter and silliness, and enjoying the beauty of the world around us.  As I put away all of life’s litter and prepared my purse to receive more tomorrow, I made a vow to live in large murals.  I will never get back this afternoon I spent with my little boy building towers and eating cookies, for this afternoon only happens once.  I will give my family hugs and tell them how much I love them.  I will make time to go for a walk.  I will call an old friend and laugh at something she says.  I will take a chance and be scared over the outcome.  I will go to a party where I don’t know anyone and have the time of my life.  I will try a new hobby, a new food, and a new style of shoes.  I will finish writing my manuscript!

We only have this one chance to live today to the fullest.  Don’t cheat yourself out of the good stuff in life by living your life within the confines of your tiny slips of paper.  What are your large murals?

Invest In Thicker Curtains

My house sits on a quiet cul-de-sac in a neighborhood where the trees are still young and children are everywhere.  Because there are so many families here, we get hundreds of trick-or-treaters every October 31^st.  Last year we didn’t even have time to come inside between groups of children, and ended up leaning against the car with a giant bowl of candy.  So, this year I turned our problem into a party and hosted the first annual Halloween tailgate in my driveway.  We pulled out tables and chairs and I spent most of the day cooking and baking and baking and cooking.  It was shaping up to be an entertaining evening with the neighbors.  But I had no idea at the time just how entertaining it would become.

“Daddy went to the store to buy us fire,” my little 2 year old said, as he popped another piece of candy in his mouth.

Mr. Alpha Male had actually gone up to the Lowes with our next door neighbor to buy a fire pit because we were all freezing.  But, he got it right enough for a 2 year old, so I agreed.  And, soon the men were back from their manly errand, the fire pit was set up, and we were warming our fingers and toes, while the scent of wood smoke filled the cool night air.  It was the middle of the third bottle of wine and well after the children had collectively crashed from their sugar rushes and been tucked into bed.  Baby monitors and wine bottles covered the nearby table as the parents took a break at the end of a long day.  I had just taken a bite of warm buffalo chicken dip and was crunching the last of the chip left in my hand when I happened to look up and see something through the window of the house just around the bend from ours.  I took another sip of wine and wondered if I had already had too much and my imagination was running away with me.  The conversation and laughter continued to swirl around me, but I wasn’t listening to it anymore.  I had just seen my most prudish of neighbors, the ones that hardly ever leave the church and never socialize with the rest of us heathens, in the middle of a sexual act.  What sexual act?  Details, give us details, you may be screaming at your computer screen right now.  Well, since you asked…

The thin film of the living room window sheers hid nothing as she took him fully in her mouth; the silhouette of her head sliding up and down his shaft, as she moved with slow deliberate action.  He tensed then reached for her, clearly needing to feel connected to her, to the moment.  The living room light behind them illuminated their every movement as he ran his hands through her long hair, gripping, pulling.  Her pace increased and so did the size of my eyes; I elbowed my next door neighbor and quickly all conversation around the fire pit died as everyone turned and watched.  They readjusted their position and she straddled him.  His hands skimmed the outsides of her breasts as he ran them down to hold her waist and guide her into a wild rhythm of heart beats.  It was the rhythm of passion, the rhythm of sin.  They clung to one another as they reached for that peak just out of grasp.  She arched her back as he thrust into her once, twice, then she collapsed on him in a tangle of spent lust and satisfaction.  They left the room together and their house grew dark for the night.  

“Do you think he’ll come outside for a cigarette,” Mr. Alpha Male asked me.  Our Halloween tailgate party continued on into the early morning, but the evening’s unexpected entertainment was obviously over. 

Will I ever be able to say hello to my neighbor with a straight face again? 

Evil Men Never Wear Black Hats

You may think I live on the pages of a book where you can shut me into darkness.  Or, do you think I live on the movie screen where you can simply close your eyes and I will disappear?  No.  Villains are everywhere. You may think you are safe from us in real life, but that is where we thrive, we villains, as we feed on the goodness and hard work of those around us.  Slowly slipping, sneaking, some might say into your life.  At work you do business with me and are forced to endure my torture every day.  Yet, I wear no black hat to signify where my loyalties lie.  At friendly social gatherings, I lurk in the crowd waiting for the chance to carry out my evil plot.  Yet, I have no sinister laugh to signal those that I meet to tell them who I am.  When I finally find you, caught off guard, in a dark alley, with no one to hear your screams, I will not stop to explain my motivation in killing you.  With a flick of this blade you’ll be dead.  Can you feel it? The cold steel of the knife is pressed against your throat, and you thought I was fiction. 

In real life I have freedom.  I look like your friend, the one that smiles to your face just before you feel the blade piercing into your back.  I’m your co-worker that takes credit for your work and spreads rumors about you while you’re at home sick.  I sued you for thousands of dollars you didn’t have, just to line my pockets with your money.  When you came to me with a problem I took advantage of you. I could pay you what I owe you, but I want to vacation instead.  I bullied your child and there was nothing you could do about it.   And then, I lured your loved one away from you to steal a small sliver of your happiness.  But, you’re not happy now are you?  And the best part is you never saw it coming.  You never saw the trap I set for you.  You never saw it, because I look like you, I look like me.  Can you feel life slip from your grasp as I tell you what I’ve done?  Can you taste the thick metallic feel of blood in your mouth?  You trusted me and now you’re dead. 

Happy Halloween!

Hug Your Skeleton

Why won’t you talk to me?  I may not be able to help, but I can listen.  And, I want to support you through this.  These are the frustrated ramblings of someone who is horribly flawed just like you and loves you anyway….

What did the doctors tell you?  Are you going to be alright?   I need to know.  I love you, please talk to me. 

How bad is it?  Are you going to loose the house? I need to know.  I love you, please talk to me.

You’ve never told anyone?  How did you survive that alone?  I love you, please talk to me.

You have imperfections in your life too don’t you?  I know I do.  Are there issues at work in your life that you try desperately to keep swept under the rug, so your friends won’t know how bad things really are at home?  Whether it’s unhappy relationships, bad news from the doctor, or bill collectors calling, you are not alone. Or, is there something in your past that you’re not very proud of doing?  None of us are perfect.  We all have them, lurking in corners, hidden under feigned perfection and self righteousness.  Skeletons.  So, if we all have them, why are we so ashamed of them?  Why can’t we talk about them?  I’m bringing out my skeletons and dusting them off for Halloween this year.  After all, how can we grow and appreciate our own crooked paths that brought us to where we are today without showing our skeletons some love.  Through all of our experiences, the good and the bad, we are reshaped and molded everyday into the people we will become.    And, it’s the adversity in life that strengthens our resolve to become something more than our circumstances, and makes us grow. 

Most of you know that I am writing a novel.  How interesting would my characters be if they did everything right all the time and had never made a bad decision?  Nobody would read that book.  It’s the struggle to claw your way back from the edge of disaster that makes you beautiful.  That’s what people want to see, want to read about, want to be a part of.  It’s the overcoming part of it all that makes you interesting, so embrace it! 

Overcoming illness

Overcoming debt

Overcoming bad decisions

Overcoming depression

If we had no skeletons, the success wouldn’t be nearly so sweet.  So, bring ‘em out, dust ‘em off and let’s talk about it; because, without your skeletons you wouldn’t be here.  Have you hugged your skeleton today?