Archive for the ‘Uncategorized’ Category

Installment 7 – The Reader

Posted: March 19, 2012 in Uncategorized
This is the seventh installment of a story that will unravel slowly, week by week. Check back to find out what happens as the tale unfolds. Updates will be posted on Twitter and Facebook.

“Please stop calling,” Emma whispered to the caller over and over again


When Ethan had suddenly past away he took Emma’s world with him; for he was her world. She had opened her heart and soul to him and as sure as there were death and taxes, Emma knew Ethan had felt the same way about her. And yet, he died and she lived–this basic equation was not within Emma’s means to grasp.

A few weeks after the accident, an acquaintance of Emma’s, Anne Dellik, gently suggested the name of a good psychiatrist. The doctor would help her to come to terms with her inner feelings, she had said. He would help her to grieve and then move on, she had said. Emma knew this to be a bald-face lie.  I don’t need help to grieve, Emma had thought, I do that just fine on my own, thank you very much, and there certainly would be no moving on. The needle had been lifted; the music stopped.

Emma decided to play her friend’s game and took the psychiatrist business card from Anne’s outstretched hand. Although she had no mind to ever reach out to Anne again, Emma did call Doctor Donald Goldstein that very same day.


Installment 2 – The Reader

Posted: January 25, 2012 in Uncategorized
This is the second installment of a story that will unravel slowly, week by week. Check back to find out what happens as the tale unfolds. Updates will be posted on Twitter and Facebook.



A Fiction story



The sky quickly darkened around her followed by a light drizzle, causing her to turn on the windshield wipers.  “I don’t remember hearing anything about rain today, she said, while the wipers labored, squealing back and forth. Emma accelerated the car not wanting to get caught driving in a southern downpour. A small brown bag containing two chocolate cupcakes teetered on the edge of the passenger seat; she used her right hand to stop it from tipping over onto the car mat. The last thing she wanted was to bring Ethan a flattened dessert. He never cared about such trivial things, but she did.

Emma’s thoughts drifted to the first time she met Ethan and she found herself missing her turn as the drizzle dramatically turned into a hard rain. The fierce tap-dancing of the raindrops on the car’s metal roof went right through her head.

“Dang it! Wake up Emma!” She banged on the steering wheel a couple of times. Without signaling, she pulled over onto the shoulder of the road to attempt a u-turn. A truck whizzed by with its horn angrily blaring, scaring the life out of her.  Emma’s body trembled, then tears rushed from her eyes…

Installment 1 – The Reader

Posted: January 19, 2012 in Uncategorized
This is the first installment of a story that will unravel slowly. Each week, I will add more details, more back story and more to the plot. Check Twitter and Facebook for updates.

A Fiction story




Emma Walker could not envision five years passing since her husband, Ethan, had accidently come across the quaint old town of Richmond Hill while driving to Savannah for a business convention. It didn’t take long for the two of them to fall in love with the area. Neither had family ties; Emma and Ethan were all each other needed. So, they packed their belongings, leaving the hustle and bustle of city life. They cashed in enough savings to put a down payment on a beautiful old colonial-style house right off of the Ogeechee River, secluded from the rest of the world.

It had been a dream come true.


             Emma drove alone, eastward in her Ford Sedan on highway one-forty-four, through the town of Richmond Hill, heading towards home. She took a quick glance in the rear

view mirror at herself. “How could a thirty-five year old look so tired, so…so old?” Emma said out loud.  She often talked to herself, figuring she wasn’t crazy as long as she

didn’t carry on a lengthy conversation. A habit Ethan never seemed to mind…not one little bit.

The sky quickly darkened around her…

Writing away everyday!

Okay, I admit it, I love writing mystery/suspense. If you’ve read my book, Lonely Deceptions, you know what I mean. I recently attempted to write a simple story about a fictitious baseball team. No harm in that, right? By the second chapter it turned into a mystery/suspense…go figure.

I guess what I’m trying to convey is, what many, many people have suggested before me…write what you know, what you love, what you get excited about. I believe then your story will ring true, even if it takes place on a planet billions of miles away or as close as your own backyard.

I have some tools, so to speak, which help me when I’m writing a story. This may or may not help you while staring at a blank piece of paper.

Write every day, this builds up your imagination and creativity.  (Simple for me to say, harder to actually do).

For a few minutes at night I take out the thesaurus, pick out random words and create sentences around them. For me, this little exercise is actually a lot of fun.

I can’t believe I’m going to tell you this last thing that I believe helped me in my writing, but, when my daughter was younger she loved having me play dolls with her. We would create lavish adventure stories for the dolls to go on, complete with dialogue. And at the end we would even do a blooper reel. By the way, now my ten-year-old daughter is writing her own short stories.

Happy writing everybody!


As you may or may not be aware, I write in the morning and make chocolate in the afternoon. I wonder what would happen if these two worlds—a 1940’s mystery and a chocolate store—collided.


Death by Chocolate fudge?

The lanky, unshaved, man sat in the dimly lit store waiting for anyone to walk through the front door. He didn’t have to wait long.  A woman, dressed to the hilt, sashayed in.

“I hear you may be able to help me,” she said in a sultry voice.

The man stood up and surveyed the woman. She was good-looking enough, with legs that went on for days, he thought. But what stuck out like a sore thumb was the brown smudge on her left cheek. Yup, she was a chocolate lover all right.

“My name is Mel…Carl Mel. What can I do you for?” he said while heading towards the back of a gold-plated glass showcase.

“I’ve been looking everywhere for something,” she uttered in despair, tears seemed to be welling in her eyes. “Death by chocolate fudge,” she whispered. “Do you have some?”

Mel put the lights on showing a wide variety of fudge including death by chocolate. He put a piece in a box. “That’ll be $4.95. By the way, what’s your name?”

She took the chocolate. “Candice, but you can call me candy.”

Of course it was, he thought, and sat down to wait for the next customer.


Posted: February 15, 2011 in Uncategorized

A creature of habit, Nick started every day the same way. He splashed cold water on his face before staring across at his own reflection. Getting older, but not too shabby for just turning forty-three, he pondered … He washed and dried his hands and looked out the window … His fingers flicked the slats open only to expose a rain-soaked pane. I guess my friend called it right; there probably won’t be any baseball to watch tonight, Nick thought glumly. Before his fingers released their pressure, he spotted some kind of movement from behind a very old maple tree directly across the street. He found himself opening the slats even wider as he continued to stare into the stormy morning. Nick’s eyes focused on a shadow illuminated by the streetlight and hovering on the ground just beyond the confines of the maple tree. He considered calling the police, but then from behind the tree, a figure darted up the block toward the main cross road. In what seemed like an instant, the runner was out of view.