I have a contest and I need your help to get it going Check it out, read, rate and review to draw more attention to the contest. Feel Free to tell your friends! Pass the word! A new contest for old stories.

ID: 1839877   (Rated: E) New Again Short Story Contest   Pull the stories from the closet and make them New Again by Suze spreading GPs for reviews

ID: 1839877   (Rated: E) New Again Short Story Contest   Pull the stories from the closet and make them New Again by Suze spreading GPs for reviews

I have a new story in my portfolio

ID: 1838835   (Rated: 13+) Professor MacAfee  Another crashing boom thundered overhead, and the lights flickered for a moment. by Suze spreading GPs for reviews

For the official Writing.Com Dear Me Contest



Dear Me,

I’m glad we have this chance to sit quietly, and just talk. It’s been a rough year, and this year may prove to be even more difficult. If not difficult, definitely scary; that’s what I want to talk to you about.

I know, I know, there are plenty of scientists out there screaming ‘caution’ at the approaching apocalypse, and Lord knows you have been watching every documentary on the subject of doomsday. It’s time you stop watching. It’s time you stop worrying.

In the past, it has always worked best for you, when you write your fears instead of sitting back passively waiting. It’s time to write, Susie.

You’ve toyed with the idea for a book on your mother. There are so many other people in the same boat. Seniors are taking care of their parents and many suffer from Alzheimer’s. They will be struggling with the same decision, “Should I put Mom/Dad in a nursing home?” and you can give them some guidance on how you reached your decision. You could help a lot of people, instead of sitting on the couch worrying if the Mayans really know anything.

Fear- Fear is an amazing emotion that can enhance any story; mystery, drama, romance, adventure, it is not just for horror. You know what fear is, you have lived it, you invited it in, and allowed it to visit for a long time. This is the time to turn fear into a powerful recreation for readers to experience. Think of the story you could write. You told me the other day a story line that I think has potential. You never know, this could be the year that you get discovered. Sure, makes sense that you’d be discovered the year it all ends. Ah, working on your comedy, or sarcasm?

Those are both good projects. A book, written in E-book style on making the big decision for loved ones, and the short story that gives a strong element of fear for the reader’s enjoyment. I’m proud of you and I believe you can do it.

One more thing, I’ve heard you wish to host your own contest for a number of years now, and I think this would be a good year to project some positive thoughts into the universe. Why don’t you do it? Why don’t you get it organized and listed in the Contest Newsletter before Valentine’s Day? I’d like to make a suggestion for the title. NEW AGAIN Short Story Contest, get it? Those stories in your portfolio that have been read, reviewed and edited so many times and now that they are perfect—there’s no contest to enter them in. Most contests requirement the piece to be written specifically for that entry. I love the idea, and you would be helping a lot of writers get recognition for some fine work.

I am so glad we had this time to talk. I feel so much better about the future. If the world is going to end, then it’s going to end with a strong finish- a book, a short story and a contest. I believe in you—now put on your cape super-hero and go save the world.
Sincerely, Me

 

A marine wrote this, so in honor of those who protect our land please repost and show your respect to those who won’t be home for Christmas.



Twas the night before Christmas
And he lived all alone
In a one bedroom house made of plaster and stone.

I had come down the chimney with presents to give
And to see just who in this home did live.

I looked all about,
A strange sight I did see,
No tinsel, no presents, not even a tree

No stocking by the mantle, just boots filled with sand.
On the wall hung pictures of far distant lands.

With medals and badges, awards of all kind,
a sober thought came through my mind.

For this house was different, it was dark and dreary,
I had found the home of a solider, once I could see clearly.

The solider lay sleeping, silent and alone
Curled up on the floor of this one bedroom home.

His face was so gentle the room in such disorder
Not at all how I pictured it for a solider.

Was this the hero of whom I’d just read?
Curled up on a poncho, the floor for a bed?

I realized the families I saw that night
Owed their lives to these soldiers who were willing to fight

Soon round the world the children would play
And grownups would celebrate a bright Christmas day

They all enjoyed freedom each month of the year
Because of the soldiers, like the one lying here

I couldn’t help but wonder
How many lay alone
On a cold Christmas eve
In a land far from home

The very thought brought a tear to my eye
I dropped to my knees and started to cry

The solider awakened and I heard a rough voice
“Santa, don’t cry, this life is my choice;
I fight for freedom, I don’t ask for more
My life is my God, my country, my corps”

The solider rolled over
And drifted off to sleep
I couldn’t control it, I continued to weep

I kept watch for hours
So silent and still
we both shivered from the cold night’s chill

I didn’t want to leave on that cold, dark night
This guardian of honor so willing to fight

Then the solider rolled over
With a voice soft and pure whispered,
“Carry on Santa, its Christmas day--
all is secure”

One look at my watch and I knew he was right
Merry Christmas, My friend, and to all good night.




Suze
writing is how I breathe
reading puts me at ease

 

Christmas Elves
By D. Susan Rutz

Christmas is their time of year
They know when it’s drawing near
Whispering among themselves
Busy little joyful elves
Stealing glances at the toys
Wishing they were girls and boys

Playing in the snow that falls
They become snowy little balls
Of ice and cold against their noses
With sparkling eyes and purple toes
And a special love that comes with innocence.
(Wondering where it was that ours went?)

Gathering around the wintry fires they sing,
Throughout the year let joy ring
Giving testimony to the truth, that they know
The secrets wrapped within Christmas snow
Little bundles of pink and blue
Full of life bran new

Christmas elves awaiting their pleasures
Ready to tear open their treasures
Giving us back the sparkle of living
Reminding us of the joy of giving
For what better reason to have Christmas this year
If not for the elves that live here

    

Suze
writing is how I breathe
reading puts me at ease

 

Happy thanksgiving to all! Have a wonderful holiday weekend and plenty of food on your plate.

Mom and I are going to watch the parade while the turkey cooks and then after eating we are going to take a nap. No driving anywhere, no flying anywhere---just staying home and enjoying the day.


Suze
writing is how I breathe
reading puts me at ease

 

Scientists, God love ‘em, are very strange entities. They are smart people, and yet they view the world, and information already established as something to re-evaluate. Perhaps, what we know is not correct, and it is their mission to find the truth, to correct past theories, and to inform us of another possible scenario.

I was watching the History channel, Ancient Aliens series, when I discovered that Scientists are now arguing that not only are we visited by aliens, but we have been since the beginning of time. The new theories invade what we know as being perfectly representative of Ancient Aliens being involved with our existence.

One episode pointed out that Angels are possibly explainable as Ancient Aliens interference in our society. Obviously, ancient man (being the stupid cave man-evolved-from-apes that he is) could describe alien activity the best way they knew how and that was by creating the Angel effect. We couldn’t handle the truth so we softened the reality of powerful aliens into protective angels from God.

The scientists also point to various events depicted in the Bible, such as Noah’s flood, as ancient aliens manipulating our environment. The next hurricane could be due to pissed off aliens.

Wow, the thought of being a zoo animal controlled by powerful, beings capable of inflicting disaster on a whim is inspiring, isn’t it? So there is no God? Aliens control our world? We are lab animals? I’m not sure what the Scientists want us to take away from this knowledge? They are working hard, researching documents from the Dead Sea Scrolls, cave drawings, natural wonders, analyzing ancient man’s writing all to prove that aliens how been and still are in control of our existence. But why? What do they want us to do about it?

If what they say is true, then what are we to do? Why are we working so hard?

Instead of going to the office tomorrow, why aren’t we building communication devices so that we can contact them and butter someone’s ass? They do have asses, don’t they? Well, of course, they do that’s how scientists explain evil. Every society has an ass and aliens are no exception.

In reference to ghostly experiences, Scientists offer the theory that an alien would be able to control time, space and speed, thus moving through our world without being seen, except on occasion when we detect them and being the stupid-cave-man-direct-evolved-from-apes that we are, we of course, think it’s a ghost.

Okay, so let’s see this from the Scientists point of view. Let’s say that they have convinced us to accept the truth of our existence as being from Ancient Aliens and that they are all around us, some are even living normal lives among us—what are they waiting for? Oh, yeah, D-Day, Armageddon, The End Of The World, The End Times; instead of being God’s judgment day it is the Ancient Aliens returning to finish us off, to bring the lost ones back into their fold and destroy the rest of mankind.

Man, if that turns out to be true then there are a lot of people that are going to feel pretty silly in the morning sun. Here we are worrying about fashion, spending money, making money, going about our lives following our morals, rules, laws and doing what is ‘right’ and all the time we were just puppets of the universe being studied by beings of a higher power.

The devil didn’t make me do it, it was that damn alien.

Let me give you another scenario for aliens. I love it when people get into a conversation about aliens and the first thing they say to me is, “You actually believe that in this vast universe we are the only life force?”

“Yeah, that’s what I believe. I think aliens are us. Sometime in the future we finally figure out time, time travel, and the usage of time and the manipulation of time. And the UFO’s and sightings are us, traveling through time for whatever reason we’ll know about then.

God created man, and he is not an alien. Fashion is a stupid waste of time and money, and Angels are real beings. The world is not going to end, until it’s time.


Suze
writing is how I breathe
reading puts me at ease

 

This is a really funny joke I heard:

Three men stranded on a deserted island come across a genie in a bottle.

"You will each be granted one wish," the genie informed them.

The first man didn't have to think for long, he quickly announced, "I wish I were home with my family."

**Poof** he was gone.

The second man said, "I've always wanted to meet the queen, I wish I were in Buckingham Palace."

**Poof** he was gone.

The third man looked around at the empty island and announced loudly, "I wish my two buddies were here."




Suze
writing is how I breathe
reading puts me at ease

 

My editor emailed me with a web site www.elance.com where you can bid on writing jobs! The first ten bids are free and if you decide to continue then it is $10 a month to belong to the site. I put in 3 bids tonight and One has been accepted!

If you are serious about writing--all kinds of writing!-- then check them out.


Suze
writing is how I breathe
reading puts me at ease

 

What Society Is Doing To Our Young Girls
October 19, 2011
By D. Susan Rutz

I am becoming alarmed at what we are allowing advertising, movies and general acceptance of young girls being overly sexy. What really set me off was that ‘sexy’ has evolved further into ‘dirty’ than femininity can handle.

Now, I’m not advocating censorship, I’m pushing showing more of the other side of sexy. Let’s at least equal it out.

Our young girls depend on us to show them role models, so let’s make sure there are plenty of feminine role models out there that show the everyday sexy of women.

As an everyday sexy woman myself, I can honestly say that I have never felt the need to raise my butt to my husband, or grind my way into his crotch in order to signal him my desires. When I saw Rachel, on Big Brother season twelve, do it to Brendon I was shocked and embarrassed for her. That poor girl thought she was being show girl sexy and it looked more like a subservient dog in heat. How is she supposed to know that she didn’t have to do that to get her man? Society certainly has enforced that impression on the young girls.

Maybe we are repeating history? Remember The Clan of the Cave Bear series? I guess, cave women had to assume that position often. This could be quite a blow to women’s liberation. We are reverting back to being raw, sexual animals?

Fashion is going backwards, I know that. It is hard to find a blouse that is not scooped to the navel these days. Marie Antoinette and her bbf’s wore dresses that revealed their bosoms. Inspired by that, or using it to see more ta ta’s fashion is now revealing bosoms again, but it’s the young girls that are wearing them.

They probably think they have to moan, groan and ‘oh yes’ in the bedroom too.

Someone needs to tell them that a whisper of love touches the heart faster than any moan; a man is turned on more by removing clothing than bouncing ta ta’s in the supermarket, and an everyday sexy woman can keep her man without presenting her scent.

Whichever way you choose to go, good luck to you all.


Suze
writing is how I breathe
reading puts me at ease

 

PROMPT FOR WEDNESDAY, OCTOBER 12, 2011:

If I were free to pursue absolutely any interest I wanted, what would I choose and why?


Free to purse indicates the ability/talent to pull it off, so I choose Singing!

Vocal artist make so much money it’s ridiculous. Most of them don't sing well, but they look great and people buy their albums.

No wait, I've changed my mind; I wouldn't like the publicity, the on-stage performing, or the life-style of the singer. I get motion sickness on a bus, and I could never do the drug/drink scene.

I've always wanted to be a detective. It would be fun to solve mysterious and be noted as a prominent citizen. I could host dinners where the elite socialites arrive in limo and furs. But, then I'd have to go out in all kinds of weather, and people would shoot at me, and some detectives get chased; I hate running.

Making money is good and could really improve my situation. Romance novelists make a lot of money. Everyone's interested in sex. I wonder if you have to research the project before writing. I wouldn't be very good at that; I prefer a good night's sleep to messing up my hair.

I've always wanted to own a country store; you know the kind where everyone in town stops in for a coffee, or to sit around the pickle barrel playing dominos. That would be great. I've even used that setting in several of my short stories because it fascinates me so. But, that's probably something I should have done a while back when I had years to build a reputation and friends in a small town. Opening one now would be lonely; too many people go to Wal-Mart’s.

Maybe, God knew what he was doing when he made me a writer. It's what I know, what I'm good at, and what I really enjoy. Being a starving writer is just an over site that I'm sure he will rectify someday soon.

Okay, I've decided, given the opportunity to pursue absolutely any interest I wanted I choose writing. It makes you feel warm all over to know who you are and what you are doing in life doesn't it? It does me.

Now, all I need are readers.


Suze
writing is how I breathe
reading puts me at ease

 

My mother took a bad fall last night. She fell in the bathroom and blocked the door from opening. It took the firemen and rescue guys almost twenty minutes to get the door open enough for a smaller guy to squeeze past her and take the door off the hinges.

She does not have any broken bones or trauma to the head--even though she struck her head against the cabinet when she went down. She does have serious bruising and muscle trauma which will keep her in the hospital and then rehab for nearly three weeks.

The house is so quiet.

Her room is so empty.

I worry about her as though I were her mother and she my child. Do the nurses know that she takes the thyroid pill an hour before she eats? Will they understand how she chokes if she eats too fast and you have to remind her to slow down? Will the doctor jump on the opportunity to test her to distraction because Medicaid will pay for it? Who will protect her rights? Is she scared? Is she waking up and questioning where she is and where I am?

I've been up all night. I will worry in my sleep and then get back up there.


 

I am indeed--still hanging in. There really isn't much choice to do anything else but hang in. Depression, stress, life traumas, and plain old fashion suffering--why? What is the purpose of the ugly side of living? I just don't get it. I've been thinking about it a lot these days. Watching mom's mind fade away and her struggle to make sense of it. Seeing my husband turn further and further away from our marriage simply because he believes I am turning away from him.

Why do we suffer?

I know why there are changes in our life, why we have good times and bad times, and why there is an end to life but, by God, I do not understand why we must suffer.

I have thought a lot about 'mercy killings', about that old movie The Shoot Horses Don't They?, and I understand now the pain that made their decisions. I don't think I could ever sit on a jury where the case was concerning a mercy death.

I have developed a theory about the suffering, and I think it has to do with the people around --not you directly.

Mom's suffering is not due to something she did wrong in her life, it has to do with the people witnessing the suffering and what we did in life. How strong is the faith? How deeply do I believe that God has a plan, that all her pain will end someday, and that she will go to heaven in full glory--how strong is my faith?

Father,
My faith is strong. I believe in you and all your power and glory. I believe in Jesus, your son, and his promise of life ever-after. Please ease her suffering. Please bring a cure to this terrible disease that steals away the mind. Amen.

Suze
writing is how I breathe
reading puts me at ease

 

We are hanging in as best we can these days. Mom had a doctor's appointment on Monday and I was sure that it would be suggested that a nursing home was the best choice now, instead the doctor recommended therapy. It is so hard to get her up and around so I don't know how this will work. It is true that she needs more exercise, but she's 88, obese, riddled with arthritis--I just don't know how much good this will do.

My husband spends more and more time away from the home, avoiding what he can not control. Angry because I will not give into his wishes to get our life back.

My brother calls almost daily inquiring if I have found a place for her and encouraging me again that it is the best thing to do for everyone.

I was angry the other day because Mom had a terrible episode. She spent all night crying that no one knew where she was (meaning her grandchildren in Virginia) and that's why she wasn't getting any mail or phone calls. I sent out an email demanding that my brothers instruct their thirty-year-old children not to forget her and send a damn card. One of my brothers answered the email with, "It's not as easy as you thought, huh?"

When did I say it was easy?

I have to scratch my head and bite my tongue at him all the time. It's like we are aliens to one another. When he speaks I often think he is speaking a foreign language because I don't understand him at all. Easy? What does that have to do with anything? Is that a 'I told you so’? And if it is, what does it mean? I told you what--that taking care of mom is not easy, that taking her to Kansas would not be easy?? None of that statement makes sense to me.

I never said it was easy, we did not know she had Alzheimer’s until a year ago, she was always diagnosed with dementia and old age by her doctor in Virginia, and furthermore- he's the one who told her she had to come to Kansas and live with me or go to a nursing home---so what's his point?

My husband is frustrated and angry because he believes that I 'misrepresented' her condition. He really believes that I lied to him in order to get her here. He told me, "Don't complain to me, you got what you wanted."

Poor Mom. She suffers everyday with the depletion of her mind and watching her die is extremely hard.

It's not that I don't want to let go. I have so many questions and concerns about doing the right thing for her and just because EVERYONE says, 'nursing home' that does not mean it is the right thing for her. I keep going back to when the well meaning school officials convinced mom that separating my twin and I was the best thing for us.

In third grade the teacher told her that I was over-powering my brother. That when asked a question, I was so protective of him I would stand and answer and that was not good for him. So they separated us, at school and at home. It was devastating for me. He excelled and I turned into a massive whimp girl with no self-esteem. I always feel powerless, unable to protect myself, unable to stand tall. The only reason I was in any clubs at school was because I was Steve's sister. He was popular, I was fat. The clicks took me in, especially girls that wanted to date him, as a way of honoring him. I was tolerated not accepted.

My mother, on the other hand, is a very strong woman who fights for her independence. She sees nursing homes as prison, too many rules, and too many people telling you what to do. She also sees (as most people her age) as the last trip to death. People went to nursing homes to die.

I know she needs more nursing skills than I process. I just want to make the transition in the right way. I don't want her to feel like she is being kicked out, separated, gotten rid of, or sent to die. I have to find the right way to make this a positive instead of a negative.









 

                                        

As I have mentioned before, the business of writing is harder to learn and implement than writing has ever been. I can whip up a short stories in no time but finding a place to sell that story takes forever.

The best move you can make is to have an agent to take care of the business of writing so you can concentrate on the creative process. Unfortunately, agents need to eat--so they tend to charge for their services and I have yet to find one I can afford, therefore I have been improvising with promoting myself.

I have expanded from Writing.com into the networking aspects of other web sites. I have a Facebook page, a blog on Blogspot.com, a Myspace page and the newest one is a professional web site that lists information just in case an editor is looking; that one is called Linkedin.com

http://www.linkedin.com/pub/d-susan-rutz/3b/4b3/861
http://www.dsusanrutz.blogspot.com

I am hoping that this will lead to even more web site listings and possibly a connection closer to the writing world of publishers, editors and agents so I can concentrate on the most important aspect of writing; the readers.

All the listings point perspective readers, editors, agents and publishers to my work here on Writing.Com. I hope the extra traffic can bring attention to your work as well.

I will let you know how this new attempt at being discovered turns out.

 

Hello Blog City Citizens.

I'm not sure how many of you know this, but a wonderful friend to many people here at Writing.Com has passed away: Rixfarmgirl . We knew her as Rixy. Rixy was the Assistant Administrator of the New Horizons Writing Academy and taught classes there as well. I got to know Rixy through New Horizons and some other groups we were both involved in, and I found her to be a helpful, friendly, and considerate woman. I know she will be greatly missed.

As I mentioned in my opening, she was a wonderful friend to many. Because of this, I thought today might be a good day to reflect on what exactly a friend is. How do you know when someone is your friend? So I have placed a blog prompt in the forum for everyone to write on. Please note that the deadline will be tomorrow night (Friday) at 11:59 p.m.

I think it would be lovely if we could dedicate our blogs in honor of this lovely woman, Rixy, Rixfarmgirl . We'll miss you, Rixy!

Cindy
Mayor/Founder
Blog City


I did not know Rixy, but my condolences to those who did.

I met a very special friend on a cruise. We met in line during processing. She was fifteen years younger than me, blonde, bubbly and the nicest young person I had ever met. We went to dinner a lot aboard ship, some activities, and a lot of passing each other in the halls.

Two days into the cruise I had sun-poisoning so bad I had to stay aboard ship when we docked in Mexico. My husband and the rest of the group had tickets for an excursion on-shore but I had to stay in my darkened cabin. I was feeling very sorry for my self when she knocked on my door.

"No one should be alone when they are sick," and in she came with magazines, cards and plenty of chocolates.

Her name was Cindy, and even though we were a generation a part in ages, she was the warmest, sweetest friend I've known. Two weeks after the cruise I received an email being sent by her sister to everyone on Cindy's email list. She had passed away with a brain hemorrhage.

There are so few angels on this earth, and they leave us too soon.









 

I am still invisible. As a child, being invisible was a survival technique that served me well, but as an adult I am saddened to find I perfected my techniques too well. I am still invisible.

I’ve never been a stand-out-look-at-me sort of person. I rarely stood in the forefront of anything, preferring the back row. On the rare occasions when I did achieve more, there was always an involvement with a friend.

When I made Honored Queen of Job’s Daughters, there was Jeanie encouraging me, giving me the confidence and the strength to proceed through meetings without folding under intense social neglect.

When I went to college (for a whole year and a half) there was Carol. She guided me through joining a sorority, making classes, she even gave me the courage to go into and sit down at the Student Union. You would have thought I belonged there.

But, friends don’t stay. They move, I move, they marry, I marry, life changes and they go away. The long distance support is not as powerful an influence as that up-close-and-personal support of the friend you can touch.

Right now, I have friends, but I don’t have that one—that one knows you need the help, that one who feels the struggles and reaches out to pull you up over that hill of fear.

I had a social worker friend ask me one time, in a very surprised tone, “Why don’t you feel you can protect yourself?”

I thought it was a trick question. I am a twin. I lost my protection the day the school system convinced my mother that my brother and I needed to be separated because we were too depended on each other. They moved us out of the same classroom, and they moved us out of the same bedroom at home. He moved upstairs to the ‘boy’s room’, and I was left unprotected and alone. With my struggles of growing up with an alcoholic father and all the nightmares that brings, I found the best way to survive when you are unprotected is to be invisible.

I don’t need to be invisible any longer. I don’t know how to say, “Hey! Look at ME!!! Here I am. Here, I am.”

Someday, I hope I am finally found. Someday, someone will notice me and how wonderful I am.


WDC is ELEVEN !!!!
Post your good wishes in your BLOG and tell the world how wonderful this web site is:

ID: 1728739   (Rated: 18+) If You Knew Susie, Like I Know Susie  my blog, member of the Paper Doll Gangs Blog City by Suze spreading GPs for reviews

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I have a new short story that is occupying my time. I am very excited about it and I hope you will enjoy reading it--as soon as it's finished. Here's the opening--

Aunt Lela’s Murder

Headlights swept the street, illuminating the area with a ghostly sheen. Jenny Edwards quickly moved behind a light colored Nissan truck. It wouldn’t do to be discovered now, not when she was close to confronting her aunt’s murderer. She moved quickly to hide, her foot slipped off the curb and into a puddle by the right front tire.

“Damn it,” she cursed. Now her foot would surely stink.

To find this address she had slipped the bartender at the Rusty Nickel a fifty and then stumbled her way down a back alley filled with piss and trash. The water in that puddle soaked her already stained pumps liquefying the debris on her shoes like smashed bananas and pizza into one large gooey mess. Crime solving held more dangers to her wardrobe then her regular daily job at the call center. She straightened up, quickly looked around to see if anyone had noticed the incident and then headed to the front door. The door was heavy and slammed behind her scooting her into the lobby. Her wet shoe slid on the tile floor until she was in a full split.

“Whoa!” She leaned forward, touching her finger tips to the floor as though she was playing an invisible game of Twister. She worked her stretched legs back to their position and straightened up. With her next step she limped. The unexpected split had twisted her knee.

She brushed her hands across her trench coat and tightened the belt around her small waist, pulled her purse back up to her shoulder and then brushed her long, chestnut-red hair back into place. There, presentable, dirty perhaps, a bit smelly from crime fighting but no worse for the wear.

Her Aunt Lela would have said, “As long as we have our wits about us, we are no worse for the wear.”


I'll let you know as soon as it's finished !

Suze
writing is how I breathe
reading puts me at ease

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