Wednesday, September 14, 2011

Mystery

This week's Road Trip Wednesday asks:

What themes, settings, motifs, scenes, or other elements do you find recurring in your work?


I have noticed in my WIP and short stories that they are all set in mountains.
It's such beautiful landscape and anything could be hiding around the corner.


Another element that I always use is mystery. I love to hide things from the reader. I usually overdo it to the point of being confusing (until my beta reader lets me know that she has no idea what's going on).  I just always try to bait the reader a long, giving little bits at a time, even in scenes when I probably don't need to.
What about you? What kind of elements or themes do you notice in the different writing you've done?

Tuesday, September 6, 2011

Complicated: Contest #1

Rachael Harrie, host of the campaign, has given us challenge number one. You can go there to read other entries. Make sure to "like" the best ones in the link list (mine). Even if you're not in the campaign you can join just for fun!

We were asked to write a short story, beginning with "the door swung open". I decided to take the extra challenge and made it exactly 200 words ending with "the door swung shut".


The door swung open and I was face to face with the man who killed my mother. He wore a grey suite with sheen, too expensive for the humble fa├žade. Didn’t matter, I could see through him no matter what he was wearing.
Bartholomew, they called him, as he put his hand to the bible. He always hated that name but I was glad. I wouldn’t have to hear the childhood nickname I gave him. Bear.
A new rush of blood heated my face. My fingers went stiff and dropped my notebook. Leave it. I don’t want to miss a second.
“What was your relationship with the victim?” the Defence said.
Bear stared me down. Er, Bartholomew. Was he trying to scare me? I stared right back. This was the first we’d made eye contact since the police found us making out in the back of Bear’s Escalade.
Is that a tear on his face? That’s right Bear, milk it. “Well, I . . .”
The lead homicide detective burst through the door and stormed to the front. “Judge Spencer, we need to discuss-”
“Wait until recess,” the judge warned.
“We have a confession.” Slowly creaking, the door swung shut.