When I get French fries, I always want them x-tra crispy. There is nothing worse than a wimpy tater. In fact I like everything crispy; cookies, toast, or deep fried Oreos. Not that I have them often, but there is something ethereal about biting in and hearing crunch.
The phrase is also embedded in our urban culture. When something is so good, so hot and amazing, it can only be described in two words: x-tra crispy.  There are many things I can think of that would qualify using the term and on top of the list is my book, Bewitched.
So what’s on top of your x-tra crispy list? French fries, chicken, or me?
Many writers have rituals for their writing. Some choose to wait for the right time but at least for me, if I waited for the stars to align, I would never put down a word. It can be hard to get the creative juices flowing and I found the best way is to just sit down and start. I may not have anything in mind, but once in front of the keyboard, I tap.
An easier choice is where to write. My favorite spots to spin tales are on the front porch, in the back yard, or sitting in a coffee shop. I love sipping a cup of something hot and people watch. There is so much material out there, like listening to conversations or what people are wearing.
The main character in my story, Bewitched, started to take shape on a trip back from California when I traveled by train. I sat in the observation car where I watched my train mates and came across a woman who was my protagonist. She dressed and acted the way I imagined Iris would.
So next time you find yourself being observed by someone behind a laptop, watch out, you may find yourself in a story where murder and mayhem swirls about.
Things have been hectic and I missed last Sunday, but I’m back. So as a treat, I’m giving you a double dose of snippets today. Last time Carol was confronted by her inner demons. They are a jovial group reminding Carol her life is not right. She tries to ignore them but they are always there in her peripheral.
Carol started to pace, she was tired of waiting. Where was he? A curse slipped over her lips and she was getting madder by the minute. She had better things to do and it was he that needed her. No, that wasn’t right. Carol needed something from him.
Ring, ring, ring. The bright noise startled Carol, but she chuckled to herself when she realized it was her cell phone.
Why was she so jumpy? It was probably just Frank. She knew he would be calling her eventually wondering where she was. An icy smile crept onto her face thinking about the lie she would tell him this time. He was so gullible and would believe anything.
She pulled the phone out of her pocket and looked at it. Iris? Why would she be calling her at this time of night? She ignored the call.
Treasure Island, in the San Francisco bay is man made and was built for a World’s Fair. But I don’t see anything artificial about it. On a trip to visit my brothers, I always take in a sight or two. We were driving the streets of the city and came upon this spectacular view. I couldn’t resist.
There is something about San Francisco that pulls me. No matter how many times I visit, I return to the same things. The hills, the smell of coffee, the taste of fog.
Living back east, my world is at a fast pace but when I’m in the city by the bay, time slows. To listen to the fog roll in, you must sit very still. It creeps up the street and wraps around you. And when it leaves, it takes your heart.
My honey bun and I went to the speedway with friends last year and witnessed the ‘Eve of Destruction.’ I’m not one to take a selfie but with the BFF, I had to. Low and behold, we had a bomber. I love the pic. What a great time.
Everyone has a favorite word and mine is quagmire. Well, it is for now until I stumble over my next favored word. It’s like that oldie but goodie tune you hear on the radio and can’t get out of your head. You find yourself whistling and singing even when you don’t remember all the words. That’s me with quagmire.
I was recently reading a book where the heroine was in a quagmire. She had gotten herself into a sticky situation and no matter what she did, there was no way out. Think about it, we’ve all been in certain circumstances where you felt helpless. That’s where the heroine found herself. But of course by the end of the story, her knight in shining armor came to the rescue and lifted her out.
Too bad life isn’t like a story book. So what is your favorite word?