Author: Nicole Luttrell

I'm a speculative fiction writer. That means I write about dragons, ghosts and spaceships. Sometimes I write about the ghosts of dragons on spaceships.

Bottle Caps

Margot looked out of her living room window, trying to see if the neighbor’s dog was out. She hadn’t heard it all morning, but it sometimes slept under the porch if it was a hot day.

“What are you doing inside?” Mom asked, coming into the room.

“Nothing,” Margot said quickly, knowing what Mom would say if she told the truth.

Mom, though, was not to be fooled. “It’s a gorgeous day, Margot, you should be outside.”

“I know,” Margot said, looking down. There was no sense telling her mother. She didn’t believe that things like barking dogs should stop people from doing things.

“Go on, outside,” Mom said, giving her a little nudge. “Go play in the mud or something.”

“Okay,” Margot said. If it had been up to her, she wouldn’t ever go out. But, of course, hardly anything was ever up to her.

Out in the yard, though, things were quiet. If the horrible dog was out, it wasn’t in view. She spent some time playing with her jump rope, soon tiring of it. There were only so many times she could sing the same rhyme to herself. Finally, she collected her basket of toy cars and chalk, and lay down on the sidewalk to draw roads.

As she began constructing her highway, she noticed a bottle cap. It was on one of the sidewalk squares outside of the neighbor’s house, the creepy woman who owned the frightening dog. Margot picked it up, and inspected it. It was a simple cap, from a beer brand she’d never heard of.

As she held it in her hand, she heard the back door of the neighbor’s house open. She looked up just in time to see the dog, the big, loud, slobbering dog come running for her. He was already barking madly.

She knew he couldn’t reach her, not on his chain. Still, the sound was terrifying.

“Stop it, shut up!” she cried.

Much to her surprise, though, the dog did stop making sounds. It’s mouth was still moving, but nothing was coming out. The bottle cap in Margot’s hand was glowing.

Not a moment later, the front door of the neighbor’s house burst open, and the lady who lived there came out. “Hey,” she said, coming to the sidewalk. “What did you do to my dog?”

“I didn’t do anything,” Margot said, hiding the bottle cap behind her.

“Little kids are bad liars,” the woman said, “Give me whatever you’re holding or I’m going to tell your mom.”

Reluctantly, Margot handed over the bottle cap. The woman looked at it. Her eyes narrowed, and she gave the girl a suspicious look. “How did you get this?” she asked.

“I found it on the ground,” she said, pointing to the spot where she’d found it.

“Don’t pick up stuff outside of my house,” she said. Then, she took her dog by the collar, and led him inside.

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Why I’ll Abandon A Book

I have to be completely honest with you guys. I don’t always finish a book once I’ve picked it up. In fact, sometimes I don’t finish it at all.

While I know this is common practice for most people, I’m not most people. I’m a writer, right? I shouldn’t be quitting on books. I should have the patience and attention span to stick with it too the end, right?

Wrong, so wrong. If a book fails to do what I expect it to do, I owe it no more of my time. And, since I am a writer myself, I am exceptionally critical of other authors who fail to do their one job. That job, of course, is tell a compelling story. I wouldn’t expect someone to finish my book, much less pick up another one, if I fail to tell a compelling story. There are too many stories, too many authors that deserve my attention.

Here, then, are a few reasons I will abandon a book.

I don’t care about the characters.

I am all about a character driven story. That is to say, a story about a person, rather than an event. That’s a personal preference, this is true. I know a lot of people really appreciate a plot driven story. I will also enjoy a plot driven story.

But the characters still matter. I need to care about the character, and what happens to them. Even if they’re an antihero, I need to care!

I can’t take the sad anymore.

This one might be cowardice on my part, but I have stopped reading a book because it was too depressing. Actually, no, it’s not cowardice. There comes a point at which it becomes self-care. I’m thinking, specifically, of 1984. I am afraid of this ending; I know it’s nothing good. The book was not only sad, it was repulsing on a very basic level. I’m a very food driven person, and the thought of not having enough food to feed my children, of intentionally allowing one of my children to starve because there’s not enough food for both of them, makes me physically ill. In that way, I guess I understand how the people in the book might have been led to give up all of their freedom.

Now, please, if you’re a writer, don’t take this to mean that you shouldn’t write about difficult topics. I’ve read countless books about really dark and difficult topics that have greatly impacted my life, in a good way. The Giver, Number the Stars and Maus just to name a few. It just so happens that 1984 hit one of my personal demons, hard. And I’m not inclined to throw myself into a depression fit just to finish a book, no matter how significant it is.

Something better distracts me.

Look, there are a lot of books coming out every week, and I’ve only got so much reading time. So if I’m in the middle of a book, and I get my hands on something that I want to read more, I might just put the first book down. If the story isn’t enough to keep me interested, it’s in danger of being replaced.

This is basic survival of the fittest. And it’s totally understandable. The problem is, from a writer’s perspective, it’s damn hard to defend against. Everyone’s subjective, and what I find riveting might bore you to tears.

I don’t care how the book ends.

This, though, is the cardinal sin of writing. I have forced through some pretty awful books because I had to find out how they ended. There’s some sort of mystery, and the whole book’s been leading up to finding out the answer. That’s the most powerful incentive to keep turning those pages, read one more chapter before bed, sneak in some extra reading time after dinner. ‘I want to know how this ends’ trumps terrible writing, shitty characters and any other crime a bad writer might commit.

But if I don’t care how the story ends, I don’t care to waste my time. I don’t make this decision lightly, though. I got halfway through Dances With Dragons, for instance, before I realized that I just didn’t care anymore.

What reasons do you have for abandoning a book? Do you think it horrible that I do it at all? Let us know, in the comments below.

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Why I Write on Paper

I don’t think it’s any surprise that I’m a tech geek. I work with computers, play video games, walk around with my tablet all of the time and read e-books more than physical ones. I use my computer and tablet to write almost everything.

Almost, is what I said. Because the first draft of almost everything I write ends up in a composition notebook first. I also keep a bullet journal in an honest to goodness moleskine notebook. There are a ton of reasons why I do this, and you should consider it too. Here’s why.

It helps me remember things. I know there is research for this, but hell of I could find it. Somehow, though, if I’m making a list of things I need to do, I find that I will remember things I’d forgotten, but need to add to the list.

I also find it easier to brainstorm for a story on paper. I need to write random ideas that might not be in any order yet, and plot points that will have multiple repercussions. Think mind mapping. I know that there is software that allows you to mind map on screen, but I have yet to find one that does it for me.

It keeps a solid record of something. Like my memories of a day. If something’s on a screen, I might go back later and ‘fix’. It’s the editor in me. But there have been days that I had a deep, raw, emotional reaction to something. I was thankful to have the reaction to those events on paper, unchanged. Also, I tend to treat my bullet journal as a scrap book. I paste pictures, movie tickets, and other paper mementos into the pages. This makes my journals precious to me.

I can doodle and sketch, and if you don’t think that’s important to the creative process, I don’t know what you’re doing with yourself.

It’s easier to take with me. Yes, I do love my tablet, but it’s not as comfortable to write on it as it is to write in a notebook. I don’t know why, I’ve just never gotten to a point where I’m comfortable typing on one of those screens. Maybe I’m too old to ever really like that. Maybe my nails are too long.

Finally, it makes writing a physical experience. Three’s something to be said for the soothing sound of clicking keys. But there’s also something to be said about being alone with the blank page, just you and a pen. The quiet scratching, the feel of ink flowing onto the paper. It’s a nearly spiritual experience for me.

I usually try to avoid talk like this, but I don’t think I’m the only writer who feels this way. When I write on paper, there are times when I feel like I’m not making the story up at all. It’s just flowing out of me, the words coming in just the right order, as though I’m seeing the story happening and just dictating it. I have never experienced this on a screen.

I do keep a lot of things on my screens. My flylady control journal is kept on Evernote, and I actually don’t keep my to do lists in my bullet journal, because the Todoist app makes more sense for my lifestyle. But when it needs to matter, when it needs to be my voice, my life, my blood, it needs to be on paper first.

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listening to children

It’s Throwback Thursday again.

Nicole Luttrell's avatarPaper Beats World

Recently I’ve realized that I’ve done almost nothing for children’s writers. This makes less than no sense, because in my opinion, children’s authors are super heroes. You think I’m wrong? I’m not, and I can prove it, too. Think back to your very first favorite book. I am willing to bet it was not an adult book, and it likely wasn’t a young adult book, either. My very first favorite book ever was Where The Wild Things are, by Maurice Sendack. I read that book twice a day on average. I also read Cloudy With a Chance of Meatballs, and it’s thrilling sequel, Pickles To Pittsburgh. I devoured these books and gradually discovered bigger and bigger books. Goosebumps, The Baby Sitter’s Club, Chocolate Fever, The Last of The Unicorns. If I hadn’t learned to love reading with these, I might never have bothered with Philippa Gregory, Robert Jordan, Brandon Sanderson…

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Golden Fruit

She held it in her hand, the perfect, glowing fruit. She’d tried for days to get it, climbing all the way to the top of the tree they grew on. It was a good one, a special one. She could feel it’s power, under the sun warmed skin. This would be something that would make people think. It had taken a long time to reach it, but it was worth it for him.

He didn’t smile, this human. He did all the other things most humans did, the eating and the sitting in front of their shiny boxes. He played with his children, and he smiled then. Not much besides that.

This fruit would make him smile.

She sought him out at the place he went every day. He sat quietly, tapping on the table with a pen. She set the fruit in front of him, allowing him to see the beauty. It caught his eye, she knew it did.

But he looked away. She nudged it closer, but he still refused.

She tried again. This time he was sitting quietly while his child took a nap. He had a screen in his hand. She again tried to give him the fruit. Surely he must want it. He had taken so many when he was young.

Again, he ignored it.

This time, when she retrieved it, there was a small brown mark on the bottom. The fruit was going bad.

It was such a bright one. She couldn’t let it go to waste. She would have to try again, soon.

The next day, he was sitting in front of the big shiny screen, after putting the children to sleep. She set the fruit next to him. It had several dark spots, he had to take it this time. He looked at it, and started reaching for it.

At the last moment, though, he pulled away, and stood up. He went away, and came back with a dark bottle, resolutely not looking at the fruit.

It was no good. She would have to give the fruit to someone else, or risk letting it spoil. He needed it, she knew he did. But there were others who might need it too, she reasoned. And so she took the fruit, and went off in search for another.

Sometime later, though, she looked in on him. She had another fruit, not as good or as bright as the last. He was sitting at the place he went, touching the plastic and metal thing in front of him. His face looked weary.

It wasn’t a special fruit, she didn’t know why he would take it when he hadn’t taken the perfect one. But, she held it out to him, not thinking that he would take it.

This time, he looked up, looking away from his screen. The fruit had caught his attention. He looked at his screen, then back at the fruit. Finally, he reached out, and took it. And as he did, he smiled.

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I’m a Quitter

Hello, my name is Nicole Luttrell, and I’m a quitter.

No, I didn’t quit anything good, like smoking. But I do quit things all of the time. In fact, here’s a short list of things I quit in my twenties.

  • A total of five jobs, including simply walking out of one.
  • I quit on two blogs, one about parenting and one about politics.
  • I have quit several attempts to put ads on PBW, meaning that I, to this day, don’t make money blogging. Oh darn.
  • I gave up on the first two novels I wrote.
  • I will throw away rough drafts of short stories and flash fiction if I don’t think they ended up good enough.
  • I have given up on learning German more times than I’d care to admit.
  • Sometimes I just go through my to do list, and decide that I’m not going to do some of the things on there. Ever.
  • I have stopped reading books halfway through.
  • I an notorious for walking away from movies if I’m not interested in them.
  • My last relationship ended, well, abruptly.

I actually have a general rule that if I’m not happy with something, I’ll walk the hell away. I consider this to be one of the healthiest part of my life.

What? What’s this? Isn’t it better to be determined? To stick with things even if they’re hard? Well, yes, that’s absolutely true. I’ve stuck with lots of things too, like this blog for instance. I have a good day job that I intend to stay at until I am making enough money writing to support my family. I have been married a year and a half, we lived together years before that, and we’ve been together for eight years. I’m also a mother and step mother of two girls. I’ve written two books in one series, published a book of short stories, and written a third book (a novella, but still) in a new series. And I know, for a fact, that if I hadn’t quit the things in the first list, I wouldn’t have been able to do anything in the second list.

Now, it’s the fourth of July, just a few days into the second half of 2016. Some of you, many I hope, are starting to take a hard look at your goals for the year, assessing what can still be done. It might be time to make some cuts. Not only to that list, but to your life in general if you’re not all that happy about where you are. When I’m considering quitting, here’s what I consider.

Is this doing anyone any good?

I do a lot for my family. I’m not complaining, or bragging, it’s just the truth. So if there’s something in my life that is directly benefiting my family, I’ll keep doing it unless it makes me unhappy. I don’t mean just irritated, or frustrated, I mean really unhappy.

One example would be house cleaning. Over the past year I’ve put a lot more effort into cleaning. I’ve started following the good advise of the Fly Lady.

Is it doing me any legitimate good?

Look, we all have to do things we don’t like to keep ourselves healthy. We exercise when we’d rather not, we take vitamins and eat right when we’d rather have cheeseburgers. I keep talking to friends and select family members, even though I am naturally introverted and it’s often hard for me to spend time with people. At the same time, I’ve stopped talking to a lot of people. They weren’t doing me any good, and often they were causing me harm. For instance, my last relationship.

Could I be using this time and energy toward something better?

I don’t have a lot of time, so I really don’t have any to waste. So if something isn’t working for me, it’s best to cut it out of my routine and replace it with something better. This can include stories that I don’t have faith in, blog series that can be replaced by better ones, and books that are shitty that Idon’t consider worth my time to read to the end.

Am I throwing good time, or money after bad?

No one’s perfect, and we all make bad decisions. Sometimes those bad decisions are an investment of time or money. I did so when I signed up for an ad company. I wasted a whole bunch of time trying to write posts for affiliate links. Thank goodness I stopped that. It wasted time, was boring as hell, and probably irritated some people. Sorry. But I felt like I had to, because I had taken so much time signing up for this program and getting approved to be an affiliate. I did eventually give it over, but it took an embarrassingly long time to do so.

Does this still make me happy?

This is part one of the big deciding factor. I only have 24 hours in a day, and I insist on filling those hours with things that make me happy. This means that I’ve kept doing things that I really enjoy, even if they don’t’ seem to have any benefit. Like watching youtube or putting on makeup. These things don’t hurt me, but they don’t really help me either. I also keep writing short stories, even though my short collections don’t sell that well. I just like writing short stories, and will probably keep doing so forever. This goes for all of my writing, though. Even if I don’t ever make money writing, I’ll still do it.

Does this make me miserable?

I legitimately quit one job because I was just so miserable going there every day. I stopped writing stories because I was miserable writing them. Honestly, life is just too short. So if something in my life makes me miserable, I’m just going to quit.

Disclaimer: This does not mean I think it’s a good idea for you to just freaking quit your job or get divorced! Those are major life decisions that will impact your whole family. Please take time and discuss choices like that with everyone who will be effected! Don’t just take a bad day and give up, that’s a stupid idea!

By the way, here’s a list of things that I stuck with, after years of trying.

In case you think I’m a horrible quitter with no wherewithal, here’s a list of things that I hated and was really hard to stick with. But I’m glad I did.

  • After years of working, I have finally gotten into the habit of meditating daily. It took lots of stops and starts, but I made it. And I really have seen a great improvement in my patience and mental capacity.
  • I finally found a cleaning routine that works for me! Again, check out Flylady’s website, if you’ve never seen it before.
  • After years of trying, I am now in the habit of keeping my laundry done.
  • Food planning. You heard me. If you’re not doing it, do it.
  • Bullet journaling has been a hard habit to put into my life, but it has benefited me greatly.
  • Being married is hard, even when you’re married to my best friend. Most days it’s great, but there are days when it’s hard to get through. I’m always happy I do after a fight, though.
  • There are hugely terrible days at the day job. There are hugely amazing days too. So I stick with it.
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Some Thoughts On Disney

I guess everyone’s got something to say about Disney. I guess this shouldn’t surprise anyone. No one, not a single person on this planet, doesn’t know Disney and Micky Mouse. They really do have something for everyone, especially someone like me. I am, after all, a lover of the dark and twisted. Oh, you didn’t realize there was plenty of that in there? There is.

Bu Disney is not a friend to the feminists. In fact, the company is not a friend to a lot of people. I’ve gone through a roller coaster of emotions with Disney in my lifetime. I had, literally, every Disney movie ever made as a kid. I went through a phase where I wouldn’t let them in my house. And now, I’ve made my peace. If you will, let me share with you what caused this love, hate, love relationship.

Also, let me add that I have had none of these issues with Pixar. They are fantastic, and every movie they make is golden.

Ridiculous sexism

This is the very textbook definition of beating a dead horse, but I’ll go ahead and take a few wacks at it anyway. My favorite Disney movies growing up were The Little Mermaid, Beauty and The Beat, and Cinderella.

The Little Mermaid pisses me off because it’s the story of a young girl making stupid choices because she’s stupid, and she then has to be rescued by her daddy and new boyfriend.

Beauty and the Beast is all about a super smart girl who falls in love with an asshat. I don’t care about his appearance. Let’s face it, that might be kind of a turn on for some people. He’s a controlling douche. He does not treat Bell how I would expect a man to treat my daughters.

Cinderella, I guess I shouldn’t have to break this one down. But her whole life is shit, and all she cares about is finding a ‘prince’. The prince, by the by, wouldn’t have looked twice at her if she hadn’t been all decked out. Isn’t that what the Fairy Godmother, read representation of a maternal figure, teaches her. Is this what we teach our daughters, to focus only on our physical qualities so that we attract a boy? Look, when I make my face up and put on a killer pair of jeans, that’s for me.

Bastardization of dark stories

I love Grimm fairy tales, love them. I used to read the originals to my kids when they were babies. Cinderella, when the evil step sisters cut off parts of their feet. Ariel in The Little Mermaid turned into sea foam after Eric married someone else. (It’s not a Grimm story, but still, sea foam.)

I could go on and on. Good, dark stories, watered down to a flavorless nothing. They took the dark and grit and replaced it with singing animals and lovely dresses.

Insane internet theories

Did you know Walt Disney was anti Semitic? Do you know that there’s a penis on the cover of The Little Mermaid, or that if you freeze The Lion King at the right time some leaves flutter up in the air and spell out sex?

I could spend a whole day just reading crazy Disney crap online. Some of it’s true, I actually had that Little Mermaid cover. Some of it’s crap. Some of it’s funny as hell. For instance, there’s a story about the Small World ride being shut down because there was a kid’s body hanging from the ceiling. One of my favorites.

Modern attempts to improve their image, both good and bad

Frozen was awesome, I have no complaints. Brave, also good. Even Tangled was good, it’s what I’d call the first of a new wave of Disney movies that don’t piss me off.

But I’ve got to complain for a minute about The Princess and the Frog. Yes, she was the first African American princess. (Not the first white princess, mind you. Jasmine, Mulan, Pocahontas, even Nala if you’re feeling generous.) Does anyone else get pissed that she’s also the first poor Disney Princess? Yes, many came from humble backgrounds like Snow White and Sleeping Beauty. But they were supposed to be rich, they were stolen away from their family.

There’s also the fact that Tiana wanted a restaurant more than anything else. She didn’t get one when she saved up all of her money and worked hard for it. She got it when her rich husband bought it for her. Great moral for the girls, let me tell you. Hard work won’t matter unless you marry rich.

But I still let my kids watch Disney movies, and here’s why.

I love Disney now, for a very personal reason. They saved Marvel and Lucasfilms. So, for all the whiny, useless, pretty Disney princesses, we’ve been rewarded. The Avengers, this whole new Marvel franchise, it’s all them. Also, Episode VI.

Now we’ve come, though, the real reason I wanted to talk to you about this today.

We, give creatives too much power over how our kids end up. I know, I’m a writer. My stories have never been accused of being a bad example, yet. #lifegoals! Writers and creatives get blamed all the time for people behaving badly. I don’t need to make a list for you. But no matter what I write, I am only ever going to be responsible for how two kids in this world end up, mine.

Yes, I point out all sorts of strong female characters on shows to my kids. Science Fiction is full of them, thank God. But those aren’t my girls heroes. I point to Elizabeth Warren, a brilliant politician and Economist. Natalie Portman, who I guarantee is smarter than you. I point to Tina Fey, Amy Pholer and Sarah Silverman as examples of women who can be funny as hell. Then there’s Tamora Pierce, Philipa Gregory, JK Rowling and Mary Shelly. Oh, and also Malala.

And also myself, by the way. Not to brag, but I am a smart woman with a good career. Then there’s my mother in law, a former naval officer and an amazing nurse. And my grandmother. I think I was pretty clear about how awesome she is. Then there’s my great grandmother, who emigrated here from Hungary as a child. Don’t think that’s scary as hell? You try moving somewhere everyone speaks a different language and hates you on basic principle.

So, yeah, I don’t care if the Disney princess is frail, and wussy. I don’t care if they watch all the silly, stupid, vapid girls in their pretty dresses. I’m the example my daughters will follow. And so I work hard, because I want them to work hard. I don’t participate in girl hate, but at the same time I don’t bash men for their gender. I don’t practice self hate, that’s a big one. (My girls will never hear me call myself fat, I promise.) If you’ve got kids, maybe you should be their example. Just saying.

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Secondary Characters, Learn to Love Them

Happy Throwback Thursday!

Nicole Luttrell's avatarPaper Beats World

If you’ve never questioned my sanity, you might be after reading that title.  But I bet that I can say four names that will change your mind; Hermione Granger, Gandalf, Rue and Four/Tobias.  Secondary characters make the story.

If you’ve never really explored all the different ways to use secondary characters in your book, here are just a few things you can do with them.

  • Comic relief.  It’s obvious, maybe, but it’s really useful.  No matter how serious a story is, I expect to laugh at least once.  I mean really, what can’t benefit from a laugh?  Your main character might not be the right person for that sort of thing, though.  That’s why characters like Matt from Wheel of Time work so very well.  Rand’s got too much of a stick up his ass to me funny.
  • Crazy sub plots.  These are always fun.  You can do thing with…

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Lilliann, The Inventor

“Now, Lillian,” Daddy said, squinting through the rain on the car windshield, “I want you to remember that moving was not an easy task.  I had to find a new job, to start with.  I’m going to have a hard time getting new jobs if I get into the habit of quitting after just a few months.”

“I know, Daddy,” Lillian said.  She was fiddling with Jeffery, her toy robot.  He was her very favorite, with a square shaped copper body, a dome style head, and multicolored lights on his chest

Daddy glanced at Jeffery, and shuddered.  “Finding a new place to rent was even harder.  I had to convince the new landlady that the old one was crazy.  I don’t know if I’ll be able to find us another place if something happens at this one.”

Lillian looked up at her father.  “I didn’t mean to make everyone so mad, Daddy.  I’m sorry.”

Daddy sighed.  “I know you didn’t mean to cause all this trouble, Honey.  Just, no more pets, okay?  That’s what really got everyone’s attention.  Just stick to strays from now on.”

“No pets, got it,” Lillian said.  “I promise.”

“Alright, then,” Daddy said.

They drove past a park.  The falling rain made the swings and the slide glisten.  “I thought you could play at the park,” Daddy said. Looking hopeful.  “You spend too much time inside with your grandpa’s books.”

“Can I have a workroom in the new house?” Lillian asked.

“Sure,” Daddy said, “down in the basement.  But only if you spend some time outside in the park.  Every week, Lillian.”

Lillian sighed.  “Alright,” she said.

He glanced again at Jeffery, and said, “I mean it, Lillian, no pets.”

“Okay,” Lillian said, “I promise.”

The next few days were a flurry of unpacking.  Lillian made sure to put up a bookshelf and put away her grandfather’s ancient books first.  Then she unpacked the box of her machines.  “You’ll all be happy to get out of your box, won’t you?” she crooned.  One by one she set the machines out onto the floor.  The yellow race car scooted around, beeping its horn.  The horse shaped one stomped around, and the gurney truck pulled its weight up and down. 

One day, about a week after they moved in, Lillian made her way down the stairs for breakfast.  She had lovely plans to spend the day working on setting up her work room.  Those plans were dashed when she sat down to breakfast.

Daddy gave her a smile, and set a plate of waffles down in front of her.  “It’s a beautiful day out,” he said, setting down his own plate.  “A great day to head down to the park and meet some girls your age.”

“I was hoping you’d forget about that,” Lillian said.  She took a bite of her waffles.  “I wanted to start setting up my workroom.  I haven’t been able to yet.”

“There will be lots of days to do that,” Daddy said.  “Rainy days and cold snowy days, and those days it’s just overcast and you’re not sure if it will rain or not.  You have to take advantage of sunny days, Lillian.  Your grandpa’s books will still be there when you get home.  I know, I’ve tried to get rid of them.  It doesn’t work.”

“Oh, alright,” Lillian said with a sigh.  She dug into her waffles, and thought grudging thoughts about other girls her age.  She’d never liked other girls her age.

All to soon Lillian made her way down to the park, Jeffery in her arms.  The park was full of other children, running around on the grass and climbing all over the equipment that looked a lot less shiny in the sunlight.  They were loud and screaming, and not one of them were bothering to look where they were going.  Lillian held Jeffery close to her, too afraid of him being stepped on to put him down anywhere.

Lillian looked around for somewhere a little quieter.  She spied a sandbox under the shade of a tree, and headed that way.

The only two children there were a little boy playing in the sand with a plastic red shovel and pale, and a girl about Lillian’s age.  She was reading a book, and looked up when Lillian approached.  “Hi,” she said, “I’m Kasey.”

“Hello. I’m Lillian.  My dad and I just moved here.”

“Cool,” Kasey said.  She closed her book and inclined her head towards the boy in the sandbox.  “That’s my little brother Charlie.”

“Hi!” Charlie said.  He waived his shovel at her, and went back to patting sand into his pail.

“I like your robot,” Kasey said.  “Can I see him?”

Lillian considered this request for a moment, then said, “Okay.  His name is Jeffery.”

She set Jeffery down on the grass, and he started to walk around, making his beeping noise.  Kasey picked him up, taking the utmost care.  “Where do the batteries go?” she asked.

“He doesn’t run on batteries,” Lillian said.  “I made him.”

“Oh, that’s really cool,” Kasey said, making Lillian feel much better.  “How did you learn to make robots that don’t need batteries?”

“My grandpa taught me before he died,” Lillian said.  “He taught my dad, too, but he doesn’t like it as much.”

Charlie took notice of Jeffery then.  “Robot!” he cried. He hurried out of the sandbox, and reached for Jeffery.

“Charlie, no!” Kasey cried. She held Jeffery away from him, passing the robot back to Lillian. “You don’t grab stuff that isn’t yours.”

She turned to Lillian and said, “Sorry. My mom works here at the park, so I have to watch Charlie all day.” She pointed towards a woman selling ice cream out of a truck. The woman saw Kasey gesturing to her and waived. “We come here every day that she works.”

“So you must spend a lot of time here,” Lillian said. “That must be fun.”

“It is most of the time,” Kasey said.

“What are you reading?” Lillian asked.

“A Wrinkle in Time,” Kasey said. “I don’t like it all that much, but everyone seems to say how good it is.”

Lillian sat down on the grass next to her. “I didn’t like it either,” she said. “What books have you read that you do like?”

The girls chatted about books while Charlie went back to his pale and shovel.  Lillian, who’d had experiences with little boys before, was pleasantly surprised to find that Charlie was neither loud or insistent on attention.  He hummed to himself while making lopsided castles in the sand.

After a few moments, though, his humming stopped.  “Kay,” he said, looking towards his sister.

Kasey looked up, and muttered, “Oh, not him.  Don’t even look at him, Charlie, and maybe he won’t come over here.”

“Who’s him?”  Lillian asked. 

“Billy,” Kasey said.  She nodded towards a little boy coming onto the playground.  He was holding the hand of a woman who wasn’t looking at him.  Instead she was looking at her phone.  The boy looked to be about Charlie’s age, and he was straining away from the woman.  She let him go and settled herself onto a bench, not bothering to see which direction he went.

“That’s not a very good babysitter,” Lillian said.

“That’s his mom,” Kasey replied.

Billy made his way to the sandbox.  Charlie picked up his red pale, and gave Billy a concerned look. 

“Bucket!” Billy cried, “Mine!”                 

“No!” Charlie cried.

“Quit it!” Kasey said.  She hurried to pull Charlie and his pale away.  Lillian looked towards Billy’s mom.  She hadn’t noticed anything, and was still playing on her phone.

“My bucket!” Billy said again, and reached for the pale, grabbing hold of one side of it.  “No, mine!” Charlie said.  He kept ahold of his pale, and tried desperately to pull it out of the bully’s hands. 

The pale, which was a cheap thing from the dollar store, snapped in half.  Charlie fell back into Kasey’s arms, and Billy fell into the sand.  Both boys were holding half of the broken pale.  They started to wail.

“Charlie, please don’t,” Kasey said, desperately trying to console him.  “Don’t cry, it was only a plastic pale.”

“But it was his plastic pale,” Lillian said.  She carefully took the piece from Charlie, then snatched the piece away from Billy.  “I’ll got tell his mom,” she said.  She walked up to the woman on her cell phone.  “Excuse me,” she said, “maybe you didn’t notice, but your son broke that little boy’s toy pale.”

The woman glanced at Lillian, but didn’t respond.  She instead looked right back at her phone. 

“Ma’am, can you hear me?” Lillian asked.

“Go find your mom,” the woman replied.

Lillian knew a lost cause when she saw one.  She sighed, and threw the pieces of the pale away on her way back to Kasey and Charlie.  “Sorry,” she said.

“It’s okay,” Kasey replied.  She’d distracted Charlie with a piece of chalk to draw on the sides of the sandbox with.  “I’ve tried that before.  That lady doesn’t pay attention to anything but her stupid phone.”

“So I’ve noticed,” Lillian said.

It was getting close to lunch time.  Lillian got to her feet, and said, “I should go home now.  It was nice to meet you, Kasey.  I don’t usually like meeting new people.”

“It was nice to meet you, too,” Kasey said.  “Will you be back at the park again?”

“I think I will,” Lillian said.  She waved goodbye to her new friends, and started for home.

Along the way Lillian heard a sound from an overturned trash bin.  She looked inside and saw a thin cat munching on the leftover fast food someone had thrown away.  It was dirty, with matted fur and stains around its mouth.  When it saw Lillian looking at it, it arched its back and hissed.

“Hey, there,” Lillian said, reaching a careful hand towards the cat.  “No collar.  You don’t look like anyone’s pet.”

A few days later Lillian hurried down the stairs for breakfast, holding her newest robot.  It was a shiny blue race car.  She held Jeffery in her other arm.  Once she reached the

kitchen she set them down on the floor.  Jeffery walked around, and the sports car drove along the floor, beeping its horn.

“Do you care if I go to the park?” Lillian asked Daddy.

“Of course not,” Daddy said with a smile.  “Did you finish your new robot, then?”

“Yeah, I want to show it to Kasey and Charlie,” Lillian said.  Daddy set a bowl of oatmeal in front of her, and she started to eat a little quicker than usual.

“I’m so glad you’ve started making friends,” Daddy said.  “It’s important to not let your work consume you.”

“I know, Daddy,” Lillian said.

Soon she was on her way to the park, both Jeffery and her new blue car tucked in a bag along with a copy of The Wind in The Willows for Kasey to borrow.

Looking around, Lillian spotted Kasey and Charlie.  They were playing on the swings.  Kasey saw Lillian and waved to her.  Lillian hurried over to join her.

“You haven’t been around for a couple days,” Kasey said.

“I get kind of caught up when I’m working on a new robot,” Lillian said.  She pulled the blue car out of her bag, and set it in the gravel around the swings so it could drive around. 

Charlie’s face lit up and cried, “Car!” He jumped down from his swing and ran after it.

“Be careful, Charlie,” Kasey said.

“It’s okay,” Lillian said.  “I made it for him to chase.  He can’t break it.”

“You don’t have a little brother, do you?” Kasey asked.

Still, Charlie was happy to chase the car, leaving Kasey and Lillian free to swing and talk about books.  “Thank you for bringing this for me to read,” Kasey said, looking over the cover of The Wind and The Willows.

Lillian, who had never had anyone to share a book with before, said, “I’m glad you wanted to read it.”

There were shouts from across the park.  It was Billy, pulling a little girl from a bouncing hippo so that he could clamber onto it himself.

“That really is a wretched little boy,” Lillian said.  “His mom should keep a better eye on him.”

“She won’t, though,” Kasey said.  “Mom was really mad about the pale.  She didn’t have the extra money to replace it.”

“That’s not fair,” Lillian said.  “Billy’s mom should replace it.  He’s the one who broke it.”

As though talking about him had gotten his attention, Billy started towards them.  Lillian reached down from her swing and scooped up Jeffery.  But Billy wasn’t looking at Jeffery.  He was looking at the sports car.

“Car!” Billy cried, and started to chase after it.  Charlie kept his distance, but didn’t seem to mind Billy chasing the car with him.

“Are you okay with that?” Kasey asked.

“I’m okay if you are,” Lillian said.  “At least he’s not terrorizing anyone.

“So long as he doesn’t mess with Charlie I don’t care,” Kasey said.

When Lillian had built her car, she’d done so with Charlie’s speed in mind.  Billy was bigger, and he could run faster.  Lillian also hadn’t planned on a little boy jumping onto  the car with both feet.  But that’s just what Billy did.

“No, you wretched little brat!” Lillian cried.  She jumped from her swing and set Jeffery on the ground.  He car lay in the gravel crushed into pieces.  She raised up her hand to slap Billy, but stopped herself just in time.  Even so, Billy sat down on the ground and started to bawl.  “Mommy, Mommy!” he screamed.

“Good luck with that, kid,” Lillian muttered.

But suddenly there his mother was.  Her phone was in her pocket for once.

“You again,” she said, glaring at Lillian.  “What did you do to my son?  You little brat, you broke his car!”

“That is my car,” Lillian said.  “And your son broke it, not me.”

Billy’s mom grabbed Lillian by her upper arm.  “You little liar.  What girl your age plays with toy cars?  You’re going to take me to your mom right now.”

“I can’t, she’s dead,” Lillian said.  “Let go of me!”

“Well, that explains a lot,” the woman said.  She let go of Lillian, and scooped up Billy along with the remains of the car.  “Take me to your dad, then.”

“Kasey, keep hold of Jeffery for me until I can come back for him,” Lillian called.

The woman walked behind Lillian the whole way back home, carrying her wailing son.  When they got there she hammered on the door.  Daddy answered, looking very puzzled.

“Can I help you?” he asked, glancing from the woman to Lillian.

“Yeah, um, your kid smashed up my son’s toy car,” the woman said.  “Toys aren’t cheap, you know.  I don’t have the money to be replacing stuff that other kids break.”

Daddy looked at the wrecked bits of car.  Then his eyes went to Lillian’s arm, which was still red from where the woman had grabbed her. 

“Oh, Honey,” Daddy said.  “What were you thinking?  You’re a big girl, you should know better.”

“Daddy!” Lillian cried, “that is my car.  I made it.”

“Now don’t tell lies, Lillian,” Daddy said.  “You know I hate liars.  Miss, I am so sorry.  Please, won’t you come in?  I’ll make us some  coffee, and we can discuss the cost of the car.  It looks very expensive.”

“Thanks,” the woman said.

As Daddy closed the door he said, “Lillian, did anyone see you leave the park?”

It was nearly a week later when Lillian once again set off for the park after breakfast.  It was an overcast day, but she thought she could catch an hour or two before it started to rain.

Other children had apparently not thought they would be so lucky.  The only two in the park were Kasey and Charlie.  Charlie was playing in the sandbox with his red shovel and a mixer bowl.  Kasey was on the nearby cement, playing with a set of jacks.  Jeffery was walking around at her side.  Their mom was on the path near them, looking around for customers.

“Hello,” Lillian said.

“Hi,” Kasey said.  Charlie waved, then went back to the sand.  “You’re the little girl Kasey was telling me about,” her mom said.  “She told me how you stood up for Charlie, and that terrible woman went to your house.  I hope you didn’t get in any trouble.”

“No, Daddy knew I wouldn’t smash some other kid’s toy,” Lillian said.

“Well, I’m glad,” Kasey’s mom said.  She gave Lillian a quick pat on the shoulder, and moved on along the path.

Lillian sat down next to Kasey, and scooped up Jeffery.  “Thank you for keeping him safe for me,” she said.

“No problem,” Kasey said.  “Mom was a little freaked out by him, though.  He doesn’t ever really stop walking around, does he?”

“No,” Lillian said.  “I’m sorry he upset your mom.  She seems really nice.  I hope she doesn’t mind that I made a robot for Charlie.”

Charlie heard his name and looked over at the girls.  His eyes came to rest on the shiny red fire engine that Lillian had just taken out of a bag.  “Fire truck!” he cried.  He ran over to the truck, and knelt down to push it across the grass.  The light on top of the truck started to flash, and the little ladder moved up and down.  “I made this one a little different than the others,” Lillian said with a smile.  “It’s a new power source.  Can you let me know if there are any problems?”

“Sure,” Kasey said.

Still holding Jeffery, Lillian pulled her new cell phone out of her pocket.  “Check out what my dad made me,” she said, holding it out for Kasey to inspect.  “He said that now that I’m out of the house more often, he wants to make sure he can get a hold of me. So, how have you been the last week?”

“Really good,” Kasey said. “Billy and his mom haven’t been here at all since the last day I saw you.”

“Well, I think Dad made her feel pretty bad about how she’d been acting,” Lillian said.

They watched Charlie play with his fire engine in the sun. Lillian smiled, enjoying the feeling of the sun. Daddy was right, she decided. She should take advantage of the sunny days.

If you liked this story, please check out Days, available on the I Store, Gumroad and Tablo

 

 

 

 

 

 

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The Best Movies for Storytelling

I’m low key in love with movies. Okay, not low key. I really love movies. And I’m as crazy eclectic with my movie love as I am with music. (Remember, I’m the weirdo that has Eminem, Sugarland and Elton John on my tablet, right along with Cher and Panic! At The Disco.)

It goes further than that, though. As I say over and over, my whole life is about good stories. I write them, read them, watch them and listen to them. But, part of PBW is that I also love to share them. I’ve also been watching a lot of top ten videos with my kids. So, with that spirit in mind, here are ten movies every writer can learn from. It’s surprising to me that most people haven’t heard of a lot of these. If you haven’t seen any of them, and you’re looking for something to do this weekend, here you go. And if you’re so inclined, please share with us your favorite movies in the comments below.

Saving Mr. Banks

This is probably the most popular and newest of the movies on this list. It’s the story of how the Disney movie, Mary Poppins, was made. A highly dramatized version, mind you.

At it’s core, though, it’s the story of a young woman with a sad childhood who becomes a writer. Then, she has to watch her story turn into a movie with dancing penguins. (According to the movie, she hated that.) This also makes her come to terms with her past.

Maybe don’t watch this with your smaller kids, but my older daughter loved it.

The Incredibles

I really love Pixar in general. It’s widely understood that Pixar is a creative powerhouse. And The Incredibles is a great example. Being a huge comic book fan girl, I jumped on that movie to start with, but if you’ve never read a comic book or seen any super hero movie, you’ll still love this. Even if you don’t have kids, watch it.

It’s all about super heroes that are being sued, so that they need to be placed in a relocation program. That is, until a super jealous genius decides to look up his childhood hero.

Star ship Troopers

This movie is amazing, and it’s based on the book by the same name. It’s a dark, dystopian future story about a future where people are only considered citizens if they serve in the military. Which is a little worse than it would be right now, because Earth is at war with a scary bug alien race. It’s also got Neil Patrick Harris as a psychic with a pet ferret.

Children of The Damned

The original black and white, not the remake. Based on the book, The Midwich Cuckoos by John Wyndham, this is probably one of the coolest Science Fiction story ever. Everyone in a small town suddenly falls asleep. When they come to, every woman who can be pregnant is. The children who come from this weird rapey situation are all blond with blue eyes. (I don’t think this is a Nazi reference at all, do you?) The kids all have weird manipulation powers. Very dark, and very emotional. Imagine knowing that this child you carried is actually evil, and probably not human. (I know my kids have those days, but still.)

Shaun of The Dead

Is it a little low brow? Yeah, kind of but watch me care. Shaun of The Dead is a zombie movie, but it’s a comedy. It’s about a man named Shaun who is kind of a loser. He’s got a crappy job, two asshole flatmates and his girlfriend is getting ready to leave him. Oh, and some shitty pens that leak red on his shirt. Then zombies start attacking people, and it actually takes people awhile to realize that there are zombies around. The thing I like about this movie the most is that the government acted like I would expect the government to act. They didn’t suck!

House on Haunted Hill

Again, I’m talking about the black and white original, not the remake. Now, before we go to far, the special effects are terrible! At one point there’s a skeleton walking around with fishing line holding him up. You can see it.

Despite this, the acting is super awesome. Vincent Price, my goodness I love that man, played his snooty and rich character to perfection. Of course, being an old school horror movie, only the bad wife and her lover die. Even so, it’s a creepy movie. I’m a little biased, though, because the darling husband and I went on our first date at a local movie house. They played some old black and white horror movies during one awesome summer.

Looper

I want to be careful talking about this movie, because despite the awesome stars who were in it (Bruce Willis, Joseph Gordon Levitt and Jeff Daniels) a lot of people haven’t even heard of it. And the ending is killer.

Basically, the story is based in a world that has two big differences from ours. Time travel is real, and illegal, and telepathy is real. Mobsters send people back in time to be assassinated. Eventually, the people who are in the past who are assassinating for the mob will kill themselves, thereby closing their own loop. This is the story of one man who is trying really hard to close his own loop, but his future self is just too damn fast.

Jakob The Liar

This movie is why I’m in love with Leiv Shcriber. He’s in it with Robin Williams, who plays the main character, Jakob, who lives in a Jewish Ghetto in Germany during WWII. I guess I don’t have to tell you what sort of life that is. He accidentally finds out a bit of news about the war, and spreads it around. When people start wondering how he found this out, he makes the mistake of telling his friend Mischa, (Mr. Schriber) that he has a radio. This all gets even more dangerous when a little girl, who snuck into the ghetto to save herself from going to a concentration camp. It’s a Robin Williams movie, so I’m sure I don’t need to tell you that you’ll choke on your own spit from laughing, then cry your eyes out at the end.

Dogma

This might not be the movie for you if you’re easily offended. But it is a very deep movie, if you can get past the sex jokes. Some of my favorite religious quotes come from this movie, such as, “Catholics don’t celebrate their faith, they mourn it!” Love that.

It’s a story about a woman who works at an abortion clinic who finds herself responsible for saving the world when two fallen angels are trying to get back into Heaven. What they don’t know is that if they get back into Heaven, all of Heaven, Earth and Hell will cease to exist. Again, not one to watch with the little ones. But a good one if you feel like getting some good ideas. Also, a great example of getting a religious message across without being an ass.

Pleasantville

This is, and has been, my favorite movie ever. It’s the story of a boy who’s parents are divorced. He’s a big old nerd who is totally obsessed with his favorite show, Pleasantville. His sister, a rather slutty girl and not the smartest, has a date on the same night as a marathon of his favorite show. They end up in the show, a creepy black and white world that rather resembles Stepford. But as Bud and Sue, the two main characters, start teaching people about ‘the real world’ things start turning color.

I don’t have any way to explain the beauty of this show. If you, like me, wish you’d been born in the fifties so you could have been involved in that cultural explosion, you’ll love this. Imagine a little micro society evolution, decades of sex and rock and roll shoved into a tiny town all in a few days.

I’m sure I didn’t mention all of the amazing movies that writers can learn from. If you know one I missed, please share it with us below.

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