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 The Writer's E-Zine

 

 Produced and published by the members of Writers' Village University since 1998    ISSN 1521-2639       
20 November 2008
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Craft of Writing

Suzan L. Wiener

A Plot Outline for Your Short Stories

Every authority on writing tells you to plot a short story, but no one seems to make an outline that a beginning writer can follow. An experienced writer will also find it invaluable to outline his/her short story to know where he/she is going with it and won’t wind up by being frustrated. So many authors say, “My short story started out well, but I couldn’t finish it.” It is simple once you get the hang of it and will save a lot of time, effort and frustration. It will also help you not to leave a story unfinished. Too many writers get to the end of a story and realize they have nowhere to go with it.

This format below should help you to increase sales. I know it has for me. I use it each time I write a short story. I find it helps me to keep the momentum up throughout. It is an especially invaluable tool for the beginning writer. It is definitely not a crutch, but a means of being organized and knowing what your beginning, middle and end of your story is. Each section will be clear to you even before you write your first paragraph.

    1. Major characters (Protagonist, Antagonist)

      A protagonist is the main character in a short story. He/She is the hero and needs to be clearly defined as does the antagonist. An antagonist is the character against the protagonist or hero of a short story. Make the interaction between these two main characters exciting, realistic and challenging.

      1. Physical description (examples: name, color of eyes, hair, stature, etc.) Descriptions are quite important. It enables the reader to know and more importantly care about your characters. If a reader doesn’t care about your characters, he will not bother to read your work and go onto another character whose story is more riveting.


      2. Traits (examples: cheerful, sullen, etc.)

    2. Minor characters (not necessary to be as detailed as major characters)

      You will need a few to make the story more interesting and be interactive with your main character or antagonist.


    3. Complications (each complication should move the story forward)



    4. Subplot (if any)

      A subplot isn’t always necessary, unless your story is long, then it would definitely help move it along. The reader will want to read it to see what happens throughout. Make it a page-turner.


    5. Crisis (turning point)

      Definition: A crucial or deciding point or situation. It is a turning point of the story.

      This is the crux of your story and what happens here has to be believable and credible, so the reader isn’t disappointed with the outcome.


    6. Resolution (end of story)

      Definition: It is a course of action which is determined or decided on.

      Here is the part where you want your reader to really care about what has occurred to everyone in your story and you will if you make it exciting and interesting. The end of a story is too often a let-down for readers because the writer hasn’t done enough of an outline to know exactly where the story was going, unfortunately.
Not every piece of information you list in your outline will be used, but it will give you a better idea of your characters and how your story will end.


About the Author
Suzan L. Wiener has had numerous poems, stories, articles and shorter pieces published in publications such as The Writer's E-Zine, Mature Living, Saturday Evening Post, Verses, Poetry Press (first prize) NEB Publishing (first prize), Moca Memoirs, Sacred Twilight, etc. She also has her love poetry e-book up at Lionsong Publications.


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Craft of Writing

Mridu Khullar

Shoot from the Heart, Aim for the Soul

When friends of fifteen years disappointed me, I wrote about it. When my grandmother fell ill and died before my very eyes, I wrote about it. When I failed college, quit my job or got into what my friends and family called an insecure career, I wrote about it. And when all my everyday stories had been exhausted, I dug into my past. And I wrote about the first boy who broke my heart.

No sugar-coating, no protecting the guilty, no pretending I wasn’t shallow. Just what I felt at the time—going back into my pre-teen mind and writing like a 12-year-old would. Not intended for publication, but rather in response to a silly writing prompt, the essay meant nothing more than a journal entry. So when Chicken Soup for the Soul sent out a call for submissions for their pre-teen anthology, it never once occurred to me to send this essay.

But as the last day of the submission deadline arrived and I still hadn’t written anything worth submitting, my to-do list brought on a guilt so powerful, I was left with no choice. Oh what the heck, I thought. I’ll send this.

The CS editors so far, had rejected my prize-winning essays and colorful slices of life that would put William Wordsworth to shame. It was quite unlikely they were going to publish this juvenile drivel. All the same, the deadline was today, and I was going to send something out, even if it were just for the sake of taking it off my to-do list. I ran a quick spell-check, copy-pasted the submission into my e-mail, sent it off and promptly forgot about it, getting to work on my next essay. The one that had a chance of getting published.

Life went on. I submitted. I got rejected. I got accepted. I got published. Bylines and disappointments came at a steady pace, and while I quickly became the how-to gal, I didn’t have as much luck placing my essays. I continued to polish my prose and learn bigger, more delicious-sounding words.

And then one October morning, I received the e-mail that would forever change the way I viewed my writing. “Chicken Soup interested in your story.”

At first, I assumed it was one of my look-good essays that had made it through. I was quite surprised to find that it was, in fact, the ugly step-sister who was getting the accolades. I wasn’t sure whether to be ecstatic that I might be in a Chicken Soup for the Soul book—one of my lifetime dreams—or freaked out that an essay written for my eyes only was about to go public.

Contracts went back and forth, and at each stage of the selection process, I waited for the rejection letter to come. It never did. My ugly little story continued to clear all the rounds of selection and by mid-2004, it was final. I was going to be a Chicken Soup for the Soul writer.

While I was overjoyed, it felt like an empty victory. For months, I continued to wonder why my beautifully-worded stories failed to hit the target, but one that I hadn’t even put much thought into made it in so easily. Was it all just a fluke? Did I really deserve to be published alongside all these talented writers?

The answer came to me several months later, when I chanced upon an essay by a woman who described her trauma of childhood sex abuse. There was nothing artistic, stylish or remotely elegant about the essay. But as I sat there reading word after word, I had goose bumps. I stared at the computer screen with tears streaming down my face and I found something I hadn’t found in years. Understanding. The assurance that someone else had gone through what I had, and come out of it all right. The knowledge that someone else felt the same way I did, even if she lived thousands of miles away in a world far removed from my own.

And then I understood it. My beautiful essays weren’t getting accepted because they were just that—beautiful—with not much else. The essay that the Chicken Soup for the Soul editors loved wasn’t pretty, but it spoke of one of the most basic and identifiable truths of every girl’s life—a broken heart and a bruised ego.

Writing, I learnt then, is not about dazzling prose and flowery descriptions. It’s about opening yourself up to your readers and touching a nerve. It’s about making them laugh, cry and learn through your experiences, right along with you.

That is what makes a story worth reading. And that’s the kind of writer I want to be.


About the Author
Freelance writer Mridu Khullar, 24, loves to travel to new and interesting places, meet fascinating people and hear their stories, and in the process, find some of her own.
 
During the past three years, she's written hundreds of articles for almost 70 publications in countries across the globe, including the United States, Canada, England, Australia, India and Bahrain. Her most recent credits include articles and essays in publications such as ELLE, Yahoo.com, Chicken Soup for the Soul, Writer's Digest, Women's Health & Fitness and The Times of India. She lives and works out of New Delhi and has the mandatory writer's coffee addiction and temperamental muse. Visit her online home at www.MriduKhullar.com.


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Birdie's Quill

Birdie

Tools to Activate Your Writing

Writers work hard to polish every word before submitting a manuscript. The admonition to “show don’t tell” pushes authors to strike passive language from the text. However, even in the editing process, it’s easy to get caught up in the story. Imaginations lock onto plots and characters. Sharpened editing skills become distracted and gloss over embedded passive or redundant words.

Find and Replace Tool
One useful means to weed out flaccid words is the Find and Replace tool found under the “Edit” button on your word processing software’s tool bar. After editing your manuscript, search out the words: is, am, are, was, were, and all verbs including the words be, being or been. Find one word at a time. The impressive plot twist on page 39 won’t sidetrack this tool. It cold-heartedly points to what you tell it to find. Don’t try to eliminate every occurrence of these words, but use this process to flag passive language problems.

Depending on the length of your manuscript, you can either make changes as you find the word, or highlight questionable text to be considered when reading a copy of the printed manuscript. Change text font to red, highlight it with a bright color using the highlight feature, or mark it in a way that catches your attention. Choose a color that makes it clear the word needs attention.

For the purposes of this article, I’ll use two paragraphs from my novel-in-process titled, The Seventh Gate. Note how the red font stands out. The next time I read this manuscript, the colored words will grab my attention.

Waking up to this reality wasn’t much better than her recurring nightmare. Every night she relived the invasion. Winged Yemen poured through her village and took what they wanted. Including her. The horror on her mother’s face stayed with her. The last touch of her mother’s hand forcibly wrenched from her grasp; her father calling after her until the sharp sickle shaped jaws of a Yemen invader caught his upper arm. His arm hit the earth with a sickening thud. Blood spewed across his shirt, shot into the hideous face of the Yemen drone and coated her mother’s tunic.

She pushed the dreadful sight from her mind. She hadn’t seen either of her parents since that day. The best she could do now, would be to honor their memory by living as she’d been taught. Elita dedicated the day to the memory of her father, wiped the sweat from her face and pushed to her feet to stand at the window.
Vague Words
Once you’ve highlighted or eliminated passive “be” verbs, set the search for non-specific words like very, really, good, alot/a lot, still, and the similarly vague words: some, all, most, many, more, enough, several, fewest, fewer, few, etc. Highlight unclear words and make a plan to replace them with, specific words. Use a thesaurus to find a substitute or eliminate the word. If your inner writer rebels, ask this question. What picture does the word in question portray? Can you see really? How about some? Replace them with tangible words.

Personal Pronouns
Don’t worry, I’m not asking you to highlight every personal pronoun in your text. However, basic rules of grammar dictate proper usage and the “Find and Replace” tool can help writers take a step back and catch mistakes. I’ve included this list of pronouns as a refresher.
Nominative Case Singular: I, you, he, she, it
Nominative Case Plural: We, you, they

Objective Case Singular: Me, you, him, her, it
Objective Case Plural: Us, you, them

Possessive Case Singular: My, your, his, her, its
Possessive Case Plural: Our, your, their
Refer to the above list as you read through these basic guidelines:

A personal pronoun following the word as: must be in the nominative case.
A personal pronoun following forms of be: the nominative form of the pronoun follows the verb be: It is I (not me)
Personal pronouns following the word than: should be in the nominative case

When writing dialog, colloquial speech doesn’t always adhere to the rules. If unsure about word choice, rewrite the sentence to circumvent the problem.

Set your Find and Replace tool to find the word as, be or than and watch for pronoun usage.

Unnecessary Direction: Back, up, down, above, below
In an effort to make actions clear, it’s easy to add redundant words already implied in the action.

I marched back onto the porch.
I marched up onto the porch.
I marched down onto the porch.

If you’ve set the scene, the reader understands where the porch sets and knows if the character visited the porch previously. Words explaining what the reader already knows are redundant. Search them out, and get rid of them.

Avoid Using “Then” to Move the Story Along
Another word to find and replace is then when it is used to move the story forward. New writers tend to use this crutch to make a transition from action to action. For example:

Brian gave him a long look, then shouldered the body and staggered under the dead weight.

Eliminate the word then and the action becomes vibrant. The unnecessary word dilutes the image.

Clutter Words: Had, That, At, Just, As, While, The
Remember, not every use of the words listed above needs extermination. Read the sentence without the word and see if it works.

She daubed at the tears streaking her cheeks.
She daubed the tears that had streaked her cheeks.
She just daubed the tears streaking her cheeks.

If the sentence reads: She daubed tears streaking her cheeks, the action is clear. The Find and Replace tool picks out clutter words and helps focus on whether they are necessary without getting lost in the story. Eradicating these words strengthens the active voice in your manuscript. It may require rearranging word order or finding a more specific verb. It’s worth the effort.

Catching Redundant Words
Redundancy involves more than using the same word multiple times, but for this article I’m narrowing the focus to repeated words. One tool I recommend is www.wordcounter.com. This site allows you to cut and paste text into a window and ranks the 25 most frequently used words in any given body of text. (You can set the counter for more or less words.)

Within the sample text presented earlier in this article, the words Yemen, face and mother were each used three times. Arm, memory, day, push and father showed up twice. Equipped with this information, I set Find and Replace to locate the redundant words and highlighted them with red font for future changes.

First Word Of The Sentence
After using the Find and Replace process, go through the text and highlight the first word in each sentence. Use a new color. When you’ve completed this task, read the highlighted words in order. In the following example, the words read: waking, winged, including, the, the, his, blood, she, she, the, Elita.

This quick tool picks up redundancies. In this short scene, the word “the” starts two sentences following one another, and two more begin with the word “she.”

Before and After
Here’s what my text looks like before editing. Every highlighted word needs attention and requires a decision. It’s easier now that the words stand out from the rest of the text. Different colors work like flags.

Before:
Waking up to this reality wasn’t much better than her recurring nightmare. Every night she relived the invasion. Winged Yemen poured through her village and took what they wanted. Including her. The horror on her mother’s face stayed with her. The last touch of her mother’s hand forcibly wrenched from her grasp; her father calling after her until the sharp sickle shaped jaws of a Yemen invader caught his upper arm. His arm hit the earth with a sickening thud. Blood spewed across his shirt, shot into the hideous face of the Yemen drone and coated her mother’s tunic.

She pushed the dreadful sight from her mind. She hadn’t seen either of her parents since that day. The best she could do now, would be to honor their memory by living as she’d been taught. Elita dedicated the day to the memory of her father, wiped the sweat from her face and pushed to her feet to stand at the window.
After:
Waking to this reality wasn’t much better than the recurring nightmare holding her dreams hostage. Every night she relived the invasion. Winged Yemen poured through her village taking what they wanted. Including her. Mental images of the horror on her mother’s face stayed with her. Hatred burned as she considered that last maternal touch forcibly wrenched from her grasp; her father calling after her until sharp sickle shaped jaws of an invader caught his bicep and severed his arm. It hit the earth with a sickening thud. Blood shot from the hideous mandibles of the drone like a grape in the winepress and sprayed her mother’s tunic.

Elita pushed the dreadful sight from her mind. She hadn’t seen either parent since, but did her best to honor them by living as they taught her. Wiping sweat from her forehead, Elita dedicated the day to the memory of her father, and rolled from her cot to stand at the window.
Reducing redundancy can be tricky business. After making changes, run the text through www.wordcounter.com again. Sometimes in an effort to eradicate redundant words, we replace one repeated word with another. Wordcounter helps keep our word choices fresh.

In this final draft of the sample paragraphs, three words appear twice: Mother, father and Elita. First words of sentences now read: Waking, every, winged, including, mental, hatred, it, blood, Elita, she, and wiping. Added details and changes in word order depict a clearer picture, but the word count actually dropped.


About the Author
Author and freelance writer, Donna Sundblad, resides in Florida with her husband, Rick. Her creative writing book, Pumping Your Muse, is available in paper or ebook format. Check her website for more information at www.theinkslinger.net. Donna also edits for and co-owns Team Spirit Critique and Editing, LLC.


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Fiction Short Story

by  A. C. Ellis

Juice

The large block letters of florescent blue spray paint scrawled across my garage door in a nervous hand read: Juice.

"It's a common enough tag, Mr. Fletcher," Detective Sergeant Andy Garcia said as he inspected the graffiti. "One kid in just about every school uses it."

My stomach churned. "Then it's gangs."

He shook his head. "I don't think so. It's what we call tag graffiti, probably just local kids. Normally they don't venture more than a few blocks from their school. There's a middle school three blocks from here, isn't there?"

"Yes," I said. "So you're saying it's not crime related." I'd imagined a gang marking my house for a future break-in.

"Other than defacing your property, no. See how shaky the hand is? He was afraid of being caught. Gang members usually aren't frightened. Not so they'd show, anyway."

I nodded. "What now?"

"I'm afraid there's nothing I can do."

"You mean he got away with it?"

The detective nodded. "Unless he does it again, and you catch him and can identify him."

"I don't believe it."

He shrugged. "I'd paint it over right away. As soon as another tag artist sees it, he'll add his own. Before long, the whole alley will be covered with this stuff."

"I will," I said. "And thanks." We shook hands, and I took him around to the front.

As the detective pulled away, I noticed Mr. Simms sitting on his front porch three houses down the block. He waved.

# # #

I figured I'd go out and get a can of paint to cover the door before Jeanne saw it. After all, seeing that name splashed across our chipped and faded garage door would upset her needlessly. But Mr. Simms caught me on the back porch, and short of being rude, I couldn't shake loose.

He said he thought he'd heard something in the alley this afternoon. Retired, he was almost always home, working on his lawn or around his house. When he came around to investigate the noise, he saw a short black kid running down the alley, and the fresh graffiti on my garage door.

A lonely man, he went on for half an hour about how his life had become busy after his wife died. Consequently, I never got out for the paint, and Jeanne saw the graffiti when she arrived home from work.

"We have gangs in the neighborhood?"

"No." I told her what Detective Garcia said.

She cocked her head and frowned. "Why would ordinary school kids do something like that?"

"I don't know. Peer pressure, I guess. It's a different world from the one we grew up in."

"But we wouldn't have even thought of doing something like that when we were kids."

I shrugged. "Like I said, it's a different world."

###

The next day was Saturday, and I got up early and went out for the paint. I figured I might as well do all the trim. Between scraping and painting, the work on the garage took up the entire day. The old wood soaked up the paint, and I had to brush on three coats. It might have had something to do with my inexperience; I didn't know how much to apply with each coat.

The following day, the lawn beckoned for attention. I hadn’t gotten use to this weekend ritual. Although I liked the work—the pure physicalness of it never seemed to end. The lawn took as much time as I was willing to give.

Mr. Simms walked over about 2:00, while we enjoyed tuna sandwiches on the patio.

"I see you painted your garage," he said.

I nodded, and told him it took three coats.

"Are you serious? Did you use sealer?"

"Sealer?"

He shook his head and smiled. "It looks good, anyway. Your garage is the face you present to your neighbors on the alley."

I grunted non-commitally.

"Fullbright's needs work," the old man said. "So does the Bilkers' garage, down on the corner."

I looked out across the lawn, to Joe Fullbright's garage across the alley. It did need paint. Fullbright, a thirty-year-old single computer programmer with a major consulting firm, spent little time at home. The Bilkers were a young married couple with twins.

"These young people just don't seem to have the time to keep their property up."

I nodded.

"I'd better be going," Mr. Simms said. "I don't want to disturb your lunch."

"You didn't disturb it," I assured him. "You're more than welcome to stay and have a sandwich."

He hesitated for a second. "If your gracious wife doesn't mind."

"Not at all," Jeanne said, getting up from the table. "I'll go inside and get another plate and glass."

"So," Simms said as Jeanne disappeared into the house, "how do you like your new home?"

"We like it very much." I leaned back in the plastic patio chair. "But it takes more work than I would have thought."

Again he shook his head and grinned. "Three coats."

I smiled back.

"You're right, though. These older places do take more effort than a newer home. When was yours built?"

"Twenty-eight," I said. Most of the houses in the neighborhood were small bungalows of about the same age.

"Mine was built in nineteen sixteen."

"It doesn't look it."

He lifted his left eyebrow. "I put a lot into it. I have the time since Ida passed."

We sat in silence for a few seconds, until Jeanne came out with a plate and glass. She poured him some lemonade. Before he took a bite of his sandwich, he asked why we moved to the neighborhood.

"We spent the last eleven years in a condominium," I said. "After that, we wanted something where we couldn't hear our neighbors if they sneezed."

"But why this neighborhood?"

"It seemed nice and quiet," I said.

"And there weren't any gangs, until now," Jeanne said. We'd investigated the area before we put a bid on the house—gang activity hadn't been reported within ten miles of this block.

Simms frowned. "There'd better not be!" He took a drink of lemonade; his hand shook.

"What about our garage door?" Jeanne asked.

"Oh, that's nothing." I had to agree. After all, it was only tag graffiti.

###

Three days later, both Fullbright's and the Bilkers' garage doors displayed identical spray painted graffiti. Juice had struck again.

Ed Fullbright painted his garage, before I had a chance to see it. It looked good.

I went down the alley and talked to Frank Bilker who stood on a ladder scraping the light gray flaking, peeling trim. His garage was in the worst shape of the three. He would have to paint it all.

"I see you got hit, too," I said as I approached.

He grunted his acknowledgement as he reached up to scrape a patch of peeling paint above the door. "Damn, it pisses me off."

"I know how you feel. He got me last week."

"That's what old man Simms said."

"He's been over already?"

Bilker grunted again. "He got a look at the kid as he ran down the alley. Said he's seen him around the neighborhood."

"He saw him do my garage door Friday. Small black kid."

Bilker looked down at me from the ladder, a puzzled frown on his face. "A tall white kid."

"That's strange."

"Damn right, it is. Would two kids use the same name?"

"I wouldn't think so," I said. "Not from the same school."

An odd thought struck me.

"Are you going to paint the entire door?" I asked.

"Sure. It needs it anyway. I figured I'd get all the trim while I was at it."

"Don't."

"What?"

"Don't paint the whole thing. Just paint out the name."

"Why?"

"I think I can catch the culprit if you don't do the whole door and leave the rest of the trim alone."

Bilker shrugged. He balanced the scraper on a rung of the ladder and climbed down. "I promised the kids I'd take them to the movies, anyway."

# # #

All three occurrences took place during the day, while owners were at work. I called the office and made arrangements to take five days of accumulated vacation. If I was right, that would be all I'd need.

My plan involved getting up early each day. I sat on the back porch carefully hidden behind the overgrown bush I hadn't gotten around to trimming, read the paper and drank coffee. For two days, nothing happened; the only movement on the alley was Mr. Simms puttering around his back yard. Each morning I read the entire paper, from front to back.

On Wednesday, at about twenty after ten in the morning, a back gate clanked open. I put the paper down and got up. Peering around the bush, I saw Mr. Simms step out into the alley. He carried something in his hand.

I waited until he was out of sight, and followed him into the alley. He shuffled toward the corner, toward Bilker's house. In his hand, he held a can of spray paint.

I crouched in the alley, behind a dumpster. He painted graffiti on Frank Bilker's garage door. I hurried inside and called Detective Sergeant Garcia.

# # #

Two days later, the detective called back. "It was him, all right," he said.

"Simms did all three garages?"

"That's right. He admitted to all three."

"Why?"

"It was just like you thought—his way of getting the rest of you to paint your garages. His personal neighborhood beautification campaign."

"What's going to happen to him?" I asked.

"That's up to you and your neighbors."

"I think I can talk the others out of pressing charges," I said.

"That's probably a good idea."

Garcia was silent for a few seconds. Finally, he said, "As it turns this out, our perpetrator isn't so much Juice, as Prune Juice."

I laughed.


About the Author
A. C. Ellis has two science fiction novels published in paperback editions: Death Jag by Manor Books and Worldmaker by Ace Books. Worldmaker was reprinted in Germany, and was recently optioned to an independent Los Angeles film production company.

Ellis has published two more SF novels as e-books, as well as a handful of short works in both print and electronic formats. His e-books can be accessed through his Web page at www.acellis.net.

Ellis lives in Denver, Colorado.


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Fiction Short Story

by  Donna Sundblad

The Red Feather

Leo dropped coins from his pocket onto the table, grabbed his half-eaten hamburger off the plate and walked to the exit.

“What a selfish jerk,” the waitress grumbled as the door closed behind him.

Leo smiled and stepped into the warm sunshine. “Wha’ a day.” His cheeks ballooned stuffed with food, but he shoved another bite into his mouth. He patted his stomach. “I’m full." He picked at the bun. "I don't need all this bread.”

He tossed a few breadcrumbs to the ground. A flock of starlings swooped from the trees lining the parking lot and fought over the morsels. Leo chuckled and flung another crumb to watch them squabble. A large green bird landed in the midst of the smaller birds and the flock scattered.

“Where’d you come from?” Leo asked.

“Chicago,” the bird answered.

Leo glanced around. “Funny, where’s the camera?” He swallowed the wad of food in his mouth.

The bird cut across the empty parking space and ambled toward Leo. “There’s no camera and I'm rather hungry. May I have more bread?”

Leo tossed another chunk of his bun to the pavement.

“Thank you.” The parrot clutched the sesame seed topped scrap with his foot.

Leo rubbed the stubble growing on his chin. “Where do you live?” he asked the bird.

The parrot cocked his head. Blue and yellow feathers highlighted its face and tan-colored beak. His dark brown eyes fixed on Leo. “I don’t have a home.” He fluttered his wings, settled next to the last discarded tidbit, and devoured the saturated speck. “That was delicious. It's been ages since I've tasted mayo.”

Parrots are worth a lot of money, especially this breed, Leo thought. If I catch this bird, I'll be rich.

Leo walked to the back of his powder blue Cadillac. "I might have something else for you in my car." He wiped the palms of his clammy hands against his jeans and reached into his trunk. What can I use to capture this green moneymaker before it flies away?

The bird hovered near Leo’s ear and whispered. “Could I live with you?”

Leo stood up and whacked his head on the trunk lid. “Ouch!" He rubbed the bump emerging from his bald spot and stared at the bird. "You want to live with me?”

The parrot flapped its wings and landed in front of Leo's scuffed shoes. “I can make you rich.”

Leo smiled, bent his knees and extended his ring-laden hand. “Why don’t cha come home with me. I'll take good care of you.”

Chicago climbed aboard Leo's hand and thanked him.

Leo's Cadillac pulled up in front of Mike's Pet Emporium on the way home.

“You don’t need a cage,” Chicago said. “I won’t be going anywhere if you treat me right.”

Leo licked his lips. “Well, you see. . . ." He rubbed his short dark whiskers. “It’s like this. My landlord doesn’t allow pets that aren't caged." He hurried from the car and disappeared into the pet store.

Leo returned and struggled to fit the large white cage into the back seat. He glanced at the bird perched on the headrest of the bucket seat on the passenger side. "So how are you going to make me rich? This cage cost me a fortune.”

The parrot spread his wings, fanned his tail, and revealed vibrant blues, yellows and a bit of red while Leo climbed behind the steering wheel.

“My blue tail feathers can make you rich,” the bird said.

Leo checked the traffic and pulled into the nearest lane. He took his eyes off the road and counted two blue feathers. “That's good. What about those yellow feathers?” He jabbed his thick index finger toward the green bird.

“Yellow feathers grant power.”

"Power, I like the sound of that." Leo smiled as his long car pulled up in front of his apartment building. A gold cap on his front tooth shined in the late afternoon sunlight. “What about that?” He pointed to the bird's tail. “The red one?”

“Never,” the bird warned, “use the red one.”

Leo’s brow furrowed and he hauled the cage up the stairs to his unit on the third floor. True to Chicago's word, the feathers worked their magic and Leo wallowed in money. The more he earned, the more he desired, and he plucked all the bird’s blue and yellow feathers in a few weeks. One chilly morning he stood before the cage and checked his wallet. “How long before you grow another blue feather?”

The bird sulked at the far end of his perch; his dull eyes gazed at the wall. His plucked tail exposed abraded skin.

“Listen Chicago. If you wanna eat, you better tell me.”

“Use the power wisely.” Chicago's beak moved up and down while his refined voice offered advice to the man threatening to starve him. “It takes six weeks for an empowered feather to grow.”

“Six weeks! I got a real estate deal in the works. What about that red one?” Leo pointed to Chicago’s sole tail feather.

“Don’t use it.”

“What do you mean?” Leo sneered. “You holding out on me?”

Chicago’s feathers ruffled, he eyes closed, and Leo stormed from the room.

The following day Leo shuffled to the cage. “If you aren't going to talk to me, I'm not feeding you.” Leo rattled a container of parrot food in front of the bird’s perch. Chicago did not react. He placed the food on a small table outside the cage and left the room.

Later that day, Leo sat on a folding chair in front of the cage and gobbled a slice of gooey pizza. “Mmmmmm." He took a big bite. Threads of cheese clung to his chin. "If you want some of this, you've got to tell me ‘bout the red feather.”

“If you plan to use it, then you’ll have to do it while I’m alive.”

Leo's eyes widened. He stopped chewing and swallowed hard. “Hang on, Chicago." He tossed the paper plate with the half-eaten slice of pizza onto the small table and knocked the chair to the floor as he stood. "I’ll get you some clean water.” He hurried to the sink. Chicago sat on his perch, eyes closed.

The sour stench from the dirty cage made Leo’s nose wrinkle. “Nasty.” He waved his hand back and forth to clear the odor, and stared at the sleeping bird. He slipped the water dish into place. Chicago’s one red feather hung below the perch.

I’ll reach in there and pluck that sucker before it's too late. Leo opened the door without a sound and slid his hand under the sleeping bird. The red feather tickled his palm. He closed his fist, held his breath and yanked.

“Squawk!” The cage crashed to the floor. Chicago escaped minus his tail and landed on the floor in a burst of light. In his place stood a middle-aged man.

“What happened?” Leo asked. He glanced around the room and back at the stranger.

The middle-aged man shook his head. “Your greed activated the power of the red feather, Leo. You’ve trapped yourself in that body until you find someone greedy enough to take your place.”

“Whada ya mean? Squawk!” Leo stared at his rubbery three-toed feet.

Chicago opened the window and dumped a pile of birdseed onto the plate with the pizza. “See you around Leo.” He ambled to the door. “Hope it doesn’t take you as long it did me. As soon as your tail grows, I’d get busy.”


About the Author
Author and freelance writer Donna Sundblad lives in SW Florida with her husband and flock of seven birds. Her Blue-front Amazon, Neelix, inspired this story. Donna’s creative writing book, Pumping Your Muse, is available in print or electronic format. For more information, visit her website at www.theinkslinger.net.


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Fiction Short Story

by  Susanne Shaphren

Zero-Sum Game

"I know it's bad form to brag, but if I say so myself that was the best damn game we've ever played!"

"We're getting too old for this."

"Speak for yourself. I haven't felt this good in decades. Cigar?"

"Had to give them up. Didn't want to wind up like Peter Jennings. I've got a rather nice high country red I've been saving for a special occasion."

"The new wife doesn't approve of alcohol."

"My daughter snuck me in a slice of Death by Chocolate Decadence cake. Want to split it?"

"No, thanks; I'm gonna have a bit of trouble fitting into my tux for Rachel's wedding as it is."

"Laps in the pool or miles on the treadmill?"

"Treadmill first and then the pool to cool off."

"Deal. Your turn to set up the game next month."

"I remember. I'm just old, not senile."

"I didn't mean to offend you, Charles. We've been friends since God was a boy."

"More like a baby, Gabe. Are you up to a change of venue?"

"Depends. Passport is up to date, but I've had a couple of close calls with the old ticker. I prefer to stay close to medics who speak English."

"Not to worry. Almost everybody speaks English these days."

"What exactly do you have in mind?"

"Wouldn't want to spoil the surprise. Let's just call it the ultimate challenge—a chance to prove that two chaps aged like fine wine can still beat the socks off the boys who just think they know how the game is played. If we win, the prize will be substantial to say the least. You could buy two new hearts.  I could send every one of my grandbabies to college. We'd still have folding money to spare."

"Risk?"

"Damned straight. Wouldn't be any fun if there weren't."

"How much?"

"If you have to ask ..."

"Never mind. I'm in."

"Glad to hear it.  Wouldn't be the same without you.  Nobody plays the spy game better than two old spooks too stubborn to stay retired."


About the Author
Susanne Shaphren's fiction and articles appear in a wide variety of print and online venues including: SPRING HILL REVIEW, DANA LITERARY SOCIETY ONLINE JOURNAL, DISCIPLES WORLD, and ESPRESSO FICTION. "Arrangements" is included in the Mystery Writers of America anthology, SHOW BUSINESS IS MURDER. "The Best of Friends" will appear in the forthcoming Michael Bracken anthology, SEX, LIES, AND PRIVATE EYES.


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Poetics

by Tom Spencer

Writer’s Block

I have writer’s block. I think I’ll look to see what is on the tube tonight? Or should I talk of writer’s block, is it real or just a legendary neighborhood in the subdivisions of the mind, a place to lose yourself in the everyday crowds. Nothing exciting exists there in that nether land of idleness. However, you can tell your conscience self, you are lost in the neighborhood of “writer’s block.” This gives you good reason not to write.

A writer must write to be considered a writer. This is also a truism for the poet. Not only do you need to write poetry you have to read poetry.

Discipline is the name of the game if you want success. Set aside thirty minutes a day for reading poetry and thirty for creating words imbued with emotions. You can’t turn on the television and watch another re-write of an old I Love Lucy show with more modern mores and language using the excuse that “I have writer’s block” and still call yourself a writer or a poet.

There is always something to write about. To be a poet you have mastered the format of a short story, i.e., a beginning, middle and an end, or introduction of a protagonist/antagonist, adversity that needs to be overcome and brought to a resolution.

Poetry is telling a story, assuming that the protagonist/antagonist is known to the reader and therefore, does not need an introduction. What you have left is conflict and resolution. Or you can eliminate the resolution by presenting the conflict in a way that the reader has choices to the resolution in their mind.

In reality, a poem can be a short story with beginning middle and end, or it can be any one or two of the elements of the short story standing alone. There is a world of subject around you everyday that can and should be used as material to hone your writing skills.

Where did that table you are sitting at come from? There are, without a doubt, twenty to thirty different people and places that have had something to do with it becoming a table. Write about those people and places: the lumberjack that cut the tree, the trucker who hauled the tree, the sluice that carried it to the sawmill, etc., etc. A poem could be wrought from the environment around you: your table or any item you have surrounding you in everyday life. There are, at least, thirty minutes of writing you can do about every item that surrounds you.

Build yourself a wealth of stories that can be turned into a poem at a later date. When you are at a loss to find a subject for a poem, review these archives. Become the lumberjack or the trucker, express in poetry your views of their thoughts about; their day, the product they have harvested, the pleasures or displeasures as they do their job.

Be descriptive when you write the story. When you transform the story into free verse, drop the unneeded articles, the descriptive verbs. Let the reader create the sounds and images, as they perceive them in their imagination. You can also change the tense of the story to make it more immediate.

The heavy truck groaned
as it climbed the logging road
its plume of blue black exhaust
permeated the air.

The truck groaned
climbed the road
exhaust choked the air

If you don’t know about that lumberjack, trucker, or the sluice, this is where that all-important exercise of every writer, called research, comes in. Look it up, look it up again, and then look it up once more in different places for different views. Whenever you research you are enhancing your knowledge and your writing skills. There is no such neighborhood as “The Writer’s Block.” If you think there is a “writer’s block,” you might as well turn that television on and forget your future as a writer.


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Poetics Presents

Wiltshire

Wiltshire is a member of Writers’ Village University as well as WVU's Senior Poets Workshop. In the short time she has been writing poetry, her work has appeared in print publications and online journals, including T-Zero: The Writer's Ezine, Poems Niederngasse Marginalia, Loch Raven Review, and Crescent Moon Journal. This poem is dedicated to the year she spent living and working in Ireland, where she also hitchhiked from "Mizen to Malin," as they say over there. Slainte Mhath (slawncha va) means "to your health" in Gaelic.

Slainte Mhath

When Seamus Magee plays his tunes
with his brother, Cudleigh, on the spoons
not an eye will be dry
while they sing and we sigh
for the loss of fine men on the dunes

on the shores of a Normandy beach
where an army of men died in reach
of the triumph they sought
in the war that they fought
as our boys threw their lives at the breach.

If you've not heard such tales of the war,
of the death on that far away shore,
come along, have a brew
lend an ear to these two -
guaranteed you will come back for more.

If we're lucky they'll play through the night
joined by fiddle and drum with delight,
and the voice of old Tom
as he sings of his mom
and his love of an ancient birthright.

Come and drink to yourself and your life,
to your loved ones or even your wife.
Raise a pint to the pub
and its fine Irish grub.
Here's a toast to old Erin's nightlife!

Wiltshire © 2006




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Special Poetry Exhibit At Writers’ Village University

April is National Poetry Month and a time to celebrate poetry. One of the objectives of National Poetry Month is to "to bring poets and poetry to the public in immediate and innovative ways."

Writers' Village University will again be holding a special online exhibit of poetry. This will be the fourth time that WVU has hosted a special exhibit of twenty-first century poets in honour of National Poetry Month.

The Exhibit will feature the work from the poets of the Senior Poets’ Workshop (P123), an open workshop for experienced poets where members follow WVU’s philosophy of writers helping writers. In this workshop, members hone their skills as advanced poets, expand their knowledge of poetic forms, and discuss poets and poetic issues. Members also participate in the development of group exercises and course facilitation, have a place to pursue literary critiques of poems and poets and work with some of the master poets at WVU.

This year, the Exhibit will also feature poetry by other poets who are members of WVU. It will include a cross section of poetic talents ranging from the novice poet to the more experienced poet.

The Exhibit will run throughout the month of April. It is open not just to WVU members and the readers of T-Zero: The Writer's Ezine but to all in cyberspace. In addition visitors to the site will be able to access the Archives link and check out previous exhibits.

The actual site is currently under development. The URL will be announced in the April issue of T-Zero: The Writer's Ezine and in the WVU newsletters.


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Recognitions

Joan McNulty Pulver

Welcome to Recognitions, a column designed to celebrate the writing successes of Writers' Village University members!

Shri Henkel, writing as Nikki Leigh, wrote a historic novel set in 1841 titled Widow's Walk, Book One of the Misty Cove Chronicles. Nikki loves to do research and enjoys the ocean and lighthouses, so it’s only natural that her stories should be set on the coast near a lighthouse. The story, set in the fictional town of Misty Cove, follows Lizbeth, who must learn to deal with her father’s untimely and needless death due to the failure of a lighthouse. Will the love and devotion of her fiancé, William, be enough to get her through? Widow’s Walk has already hit cyberspace and can be purchased at ebooksonthenet, a division of Write Words, Inc. The print edition will be available July 2006.

“When I received notice that my book would be published by them, I was absolutely thrilled. My other completed fiction novel has been under contract for 18 months and in the meantime, Widow's Walk has been released. I love my characters, the story and setting, and it’s great to be able to share Lizbeth's story with others.”

In July of 2005, Nikki quit her job and dove into freelance writing fulltime. That wasn't the best way to do it, but things have worked out. “The lean times seem to be behind me and I have four ghostwritten books in my portfolio, three marketing manuals and one how-to book.”

Nikki also has a wonderful working relationship with a non fiction publisher who is releasing three management and restaurant books under her given name in the spring and summer of 2006. “I also write and publish 5 marketing articles a week and that contract was just increased to 10 which will be distributed to a variety of online sites and magazines.” Find out more about Nikki at www.nikkileigh.com.

Jeffrey M. Keenan, known by his fellow writers at WVU as benning, penned a novel of the American Revolution and the following aftermath, Benning’s War, published by e-Press Online, which will be released in both ebook and paperback this month.

The story features Isaac Benning, a young man of the western Virginia frontier, fighting for the Rebel cause since 1775. By 1780 his prowess as a clever fighting-man has led to his promotion to Sergeant in the Third Virginia Regiment, and action in the disastrous Battle of The Waxhaws near the borders of North and South Carolina. Horrified, angered, and ashamed at the outcome of that battle, Isaac goes home. His enlistment is over and he believes he can no longer face the horrors of war.

But the war won’t let him remain at home. Indian incursions into white settler areas spurred by the British, and a call to arms from the Virginia Militia lead him to rethink his stance. In his heart he knows he must ‘do his duty.’

Along the way he will meet and befriend a small band of Indians trying to find their way free of the conflagration, pursue Indian raiders near his own home, and lead men into battle once more at a place called Kings Mountain. He will also meet a woman who steals his heart, make friends who will support him in battle, and learns certain facts about himself and his own life that will help him grow into a better man.

Benning said that when he was told of the acceptance by the publisher, he yelled, “Really? Me? You’re publishing me? Whoo-Hoo!”

Although I had some ideas for stories many years ago, nothing ever came of them. It was only in the last decade that I became interested in writing an article based on something I read in a history book. But the article was not very good, and I tried making it into a short story. That wasn’t much better, and I found it growing in size and scope until I realized I was working on a novel. That’s what became ‘Benning’s War’.”

Benning loves to read and reads everything that comes into his hands, even a few romances. "That should show you what an addictive hobby reading can become. The different styles and genres have only enhanced my skills and broadened my views of what writing is and can be. The more you read, I believe, the better your writing will become.” To learn more about benning, visit his website at Benning’s Writing Pad. 

He joined WVU in 2001, becoming a member of the Historicals study group which since has closed. He then joined Writers 911, a group that is now inactive. “Then I joined Fantasy & Science Fiction, and lately Passion for Prose, which is growing with new members and excitement. I also like to kibbitz in the study groups from time-to-time. Like the Children’s Hour, which I visit now and then.”

WVU gave me confidence, skill, and the ability to listen to feedback—critiques—with an open mind. You learn by making mistakes. I made plenty! I’ve learned much about how to make a submission to a publisher, how to query a publisher, and so on. I’ve learned form volunteering in the chats. There’s treasure all over the Village! WVU is also a solid place to network with successful writers. And I’ve seen, over and over again, published WVU authors giving very generously of their time and advice.”

Here is some writing advice from benning: Write! Quit putting it off to watch "Survivor" or "Desperate Housewives." Submit your works to publishers as often as you can. Post in the study groups at WVU so you can get feedback and grow as a writer. Pay attention to guidelines—if you don’t you will be ignored! I followed as well as I could and was fortunate enough to have some short stories published in T-zero, and my novel published.

Save everything you write. You never know when you might find a snippet of something useful. It might be a character, it might be a description you were searching for, it might even be an emotion. Discard nothing!

Ask for help. You’ll never be disappointed in the response, I assure you. Writers love to help other writers. One thing, though. Don’t ever ask another writer, "Where do you get your ideas?”

Use your own experiences and emotions to enhance your work. Make it real. Don’t be stingy with your feelings when you write. And always, always, persevere!

Congratulations, Nikki and benning. We wish you continued success in all of your writing endeavors and thank you for sharing your information with us.

We look forward to reading about your writing accomplishments in this column. If you or someone you know received recognition for writing, please send the information to recognitions@wvu.org. Let us know!


About the Author
Joan McNulty Pulver, mother of five and grandmother of five, works as an Administrative Secretary for the State of Florida but considers her writing and editing to be her vocation. She is a columnist for T-Zero: The Writer’s E-Zine, a course developer and facilitator at Writers’ Village University and the Personnel Coordinator/Editor for ePress-online. Joan has had two short stories published and is currently working on a non-fiction book and a fantasy novel.


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Submissions Guidelines (Updated)

Until further notice, only plain text submissions in the body of the email will be considered.
NO ATTACHMENTS.

What We Pay For

Fiction: Stories should be of interest to writers in general, not just a narrow group.

Fiction should be submitted to fiction@thewritersezine.com. Payment starts at $15.00.

If considered for publication, you will be asked to return an email agreement including your name and address.

Craft Features: Queries about Craft features should be sent to nonfiction@thewritersezine.com.

Payment starts at $15.00, and, if considered, you will be sent an email agreement to fill out and return.

Poetry: Due to the large number of recent poetry submissions, a temporary hold on further poetry submissions is in place until early 2008.

Please do not email us to ask what we pay for in other categories. When we can add to our list, we will include it in these guidelines.

What We Publish

Original short fiction, poetry, and non-fiction, particularly non-fiction related to the craft of writing and interviews.

For fiction we prefer something with a plot and resolution. If we like the main character, we are more likely to accept the story. If the main character has a problem to resolve or has to make a choice, that's conflict, and we love conflict! Too many writers confuse conflict with fight scenes. Don't be one of them. Give us a protagonist who acts, makes choices no matter how hard they are to solve his or her dilemma, not a wimp who drifts along and has to be rescued.

Non-fiction should be related to the craft of writing or be good resource material for writers. Accuracy and originality are vital. No reprints. If it has already been published somewhere else, our readers will spot it and let us know.

What We Won't Publish

Anything that inspires "hate," is defamatory or is pornographic.

Simultaneous submissions.

Material that has appeared elsewhere (reprints).

Seasonal material submitted during the same month (i.e., a Christmas story in December). Our lead time is short compared to print publications, but we do need time to edit, html and proof submission. A good guideline is to submit the manuscript by the first of the preceding month (i.e., submit a Christmas story before November 1st).

Length Recommendations

  • For Fiction, under 1500 words is preferred. We will consider excerpts from longer works.

  • Poetry should fit on one printed page if possible. A maximum of five poems may be submitted at one time (when the hold is lifted).

  • Non-fiction or Craft features have the most leeway in word count. In general these manuscripts should be 750 to 2,000 words. We like to take advantage of the hypertext capabilities we have available and link to charts, graphs, lists and so forth. Thumbnail versions may be included in the body of the article.

Rights

All rights other than first electronic, non-exclusive 'anthology' (for collections of T-Zero: The Writer's Ezine works only), and non-exclusive archival rights (we keep back issues online) are and remain the sole and exclusive property of the author.

Formats We Will Accept

Plain text in the body of an email.

T-Zero: The Writer's Ezine is an HTML publication. This gives us access to a variety of options but it is also a limiting factor.

  • Underlining is used exclusively for links in HTML. Please do not underline in your manuscript. It you are including a link to a webpage for reference, please mark the link the following way: (WEB LINK) http://thewritersezine.com (END WEB LINK).
  • The less than (<) and greater than (>) signs are used to enclose HTML encoding. If you need to use brackets, please use the square [ ] ones instead.
  • Paragraph indentation requires time consuming insertion of multiple HTML symbols. Please separate paragraphs by inserting a hard, blank line between them.
  • Fonts need to be simple. No multiple fonts. We prefer standard fonts such as Times New Roman, Courier or Arial set at 12 point. If your subject matter requires something else, ask us first.
  • The curly (smart) quotes, apostrophes, the em dash (two hyphens together) and ellipsis … (three periods) become strange and exotic characters when copied from your word processor into email. Check your preferences or options to see if you can use straight quotes. 
  • Text formatting such as bold, italic, centering, bullet list, etc., should be noted in the text by using all caps in parentheses. For example, if you wanted to italicize the word submission, you would type: (ITALICS) submission (END ITALICS).

Editing

We expect you to run spell-check and to check your grammar and punctuation before submitting. We will not reject a submission for a few typos or errors, but will if there are an excessive number of errors.

Note: Since our reading audience is international, we do not require a specific version of English. Use the spelling appropriate to your region.

We will automatically correct obvious typos such as “ton” for “not” and may correct simple agreement problems. For anything beyond that, time permitting, we will return the submission to you with a request for corrections.

Getting to Know You

Fiction and Craft features published in T-Zero: The Writer's Ezine include brief third person biographical notes on the writers. For all submissions, please compose your own bio and include it to save our editors and yourself time later if/when your piece is accepted for publication. We suggest sharing a little about your background, occupation, geographical location and what inspired your story.

How and Where to Submit

We do not accept submissions via US mail. Email submissions only, to the appropriate department, in the body of the email. No attachments accepted.

Fiction should be sent to fiction@thewritersezine.com.

Craft Non-fiction should be queried first. Send query to nonfiction@thewritersezine.com.

Poetry: Due to the large number of recent poetry submissions, a temporary hold on further poetry submissions is in place until early 2008.

Include the type of submission (fiction, non-fiction) in the subject line.

Be sure to include your name and email address in the body of the email.

If you do not receive an acknowledgement that your submission or query was received within a week, please send a follow-up query with “Did you Receive?” in the subject line. In the body of the email, please include your name and email address, the title of the work submitted, and if different, the email address sent from. Do not resend the submission unless we request it.

Good luck!


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