The Ring of Fire October 18, 2012Posted by Jade Bennett in Personal Writing Life.
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Do you ever find yourself waking up in the morning and realize it is autumn?
This morning I awoke quite early and found myself staring at the ceiling as the realization dawned on me. How had summer passed by so quickly? I managed to let months pass with so little writing that I felt shame making its way up my spine with skeleton claws digging into my nerves.
But the writer in me woke at the right time, it seems, for NaNoWriMo is mere weeks away. The very idea of the challenge has sparked that fire inside my soul.
I am ready to jump the hurdle and tackle the obstacles. I am ready to create. I am ready I conquer.
This is my self centered way of apologizing for my silence. I’m back, baby.
Oops, I did it again~ August 6, 2012Posted by Jade Bennett in Manic Mondays.
Tags: hospital, indiegogo, life, manic, mondays, nanowrimo, Oops, writing
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I suppose I should start out by apologizing for my disappearance. So, I am sorry and please, do forgive me for my absence. My reasonings are kind of personal and private so I am not going to get into some big explanation, sorry about that.
But to get back onto schedule, I will divulge this little fact about my absence: it has put me severely behind schedule in all things Camp Nano. Which has, in turn, put me off. I am very cranky that I am already so behind that I don’t think I can catch up.
Not only that but my poor campaign has been lifeless due to my lack of updates and almost no activity on the part of others (aside from one
lovely contribution). So I need to get back on top of that.
So honestly I could be in a “woe is me” kind of mode right now. But I am really trying so hard not to be. So please please please, I ask you to be my support to get back on my feet. Thank you.
Epic fail July 2, 2012Posted by Jade Bennett in Manic Mondays.
Tags: camp, fiction, jobs, manic, monday, mondays, nanowrimo
I lost for Camp NaNoWriMo. By about 20k. I’m pretty down about this.
But, in all honesty, I am doing my best to pick myself back up again. And now I have tubthumping stuck in my head.
I get knocked down. But I get up again. You’re never gonna keep me down.
That’s something to live by. Thank you, Chumbawumba (I think)…(I hope)…
[Correct me if that's wrong]
Anyway. So I’m picking back up on writing with Fiction Friday and I’m going to be writing at least four days out of the week. But mostly I think I want to focus on creating some new characters. I’m putting my mind to drawing my characters for “Inked and Jinxed” and creating some of the other characters before I start on the first real chapter.
But anyway. I’m keeping myself busy with job hunting, too. I’m desperate to find work at this point so my life has gotten seriously hectic. If I stop posting for a while, that’s why, but I want to try really hard to keep this blog going, for myself more than anything. It’s kind of a connection to my writing roots and I need to stay grounded in my craft.
Let me know… what is it that is in your life right now, distracting you from the things that make you happy?
Fiction Friday: Inked and Jinxed prologue June 29, 2012Posted by Jade Bennett in Fiction Fridays.
Tags: chapters, fiction, friday, inked, inked and jinxed, jinxed
So… Here we are, Fiction Friday and what do I have for you? Something that I am about to pull right out of my ass. Forgive me if it isn’t great but I really didn’t have the mental capacity to prepare this week. However, I didn’t want to leave you all (all two or three of you) hanging. So I am being good and actually keeping my commitment to post a story on Fridays.
So, here goes nothing. Enjoy!
I pulled away from the design, bringing up the cloth to gently dab away the sprouting blood. He was crying. Surely they should be big, manly tears on such a big, manly guy. But in all honesty they were not. They sounded like the muffled sobs of a three year old girl, muffled only because his face was pressed into the head cushion.
He had, of course, completely missed the point of the hole in the cushion for his face and was instead crying hot tears into the leather.
“Just a bit more.” I reassured him steadily, switching out the ink for the darker blue for the shading.
“Ouch, ow! No more, please!!!” he cried out. I stated at him, an surely my expression was blank as could be.
“I haven’t even resumed yet, Mr. Harris. Are you certain you want to continue? We can leave it for now if you are all that uncomfortable.”
Fifteen minutes later, I found myself waving at the poor brute as he left the shop a broken man, tattoo only partially complete. It would not have been so bad had the entirety been colored in flats but parts had already been shades. I sighed and attended the register to check the transaction. Well, at least I got paid for the two hours of unbearable pain; mine that was, from having to listen to him cry and moan and complain. Really…
I may be thought cruel for such feelings on the matter had it not been for the fact that Mr. Harris was a regular. We went through this every time he came in.
I’ll be honest. It was really starting to get on my nerves.
The shop was cleared out at that point, no appointment or walk-ins cluttering the lobby. So I took the moment to let down my hair and scratch the ache out of my scalp. Ahh, best feeling ever.
But someone cleared their throat and I snapped to attention. “Hi, welcome to Secret Society Tattoo, Worcester. How can I help you today?” cue fake smile, and go.
I halted with the fake smile though when I realized who was standing in front of me. “Hello, Emilie.” Fletcher said. No wonder I hadn’t heard the bell hanging over the door.
Fletcher was my own, personal ghostie.
And he was also my own personal pain in the ass. Great.
A little background on me may. E necessary here. I have been able to see ghosts since I was a child. I don’t remember being able to see them until I hit seven, and in turn, got hi by a car while I was riding my bike. When I woke up in the hospital, I was told by a doctor that I had died for exactly one minute. And then I realized that doctor was a ghost when my mother walked through him to get to me.
At first it scared me. A lot. When you see ghosts who are still in their state of death, as some tend to be, it can get freaky. I think the worst I saw was the ghost of a woman who had been roasted alive in a burning building.
But I eventually became immune to the horrific appearances of the victims of violent deaths. And eventually, I learned to keep it under wraps that I could see them, after a stint in a mental health facility provided by mummy dearest. She had my best interests at heart, I’m sure.
Not that it made it any easier for me.
And Fletcher… Where to even begin?
I met Fletcher a year before, during my last month of apprenticeship at Secret Society Tattoo. At the time, he had been alive. And cute. I took his virginity that day. I gave him his first tattoo. Of course, the entire time he was there, silence was replaced by flirting and lame jokes. To be fair, it was on both ends. He was cute. Hell, somehow he still remained cute after he died. It was an amazing feat, considering he had been rammed into by a pickup truck.
And yet, there he stood before me, same perfectly tanned skin, same blond, shaggy hair, same perfect white smiled. And all of his parts were still included and without blood. All of which was very weird because I had seen him get hit by the truck myself.
I saw him fly across the lot. I saw his body.
And violent deaths usually kept their wounds. At least that was true from what I had seen during my life, pre-Fletcher.
But then, Fletcher was special in more ways than just the one. Over the past year, I had learned that not only was he a ghost, but he had also been like me. He could see things that other people couldn’t.
Maybe that was why he still looked as hot as he had when he was alive.
Still… “I told you not to show up at random anymore.” I said, forcing a frown onto my lips. I couldn’t help but notice the way he smirked at me though and I faltered.
“It isn’t random. As you can see, I have come at the perfect time. No customers. And I have come with a purpose.” Oh god… “I am here to ask a favor.”
“A favor?” I asked, brow quirking up as high as it could go.
“I want you to let me use your body.”