Writing Every Day Journal

  As a writer I know fail at times at the one cardinal rule of being a writer, which is to write and read everyday. So, to fix that monumental problem I have started this journal on my blog. I will talk about my writing journey for the day, or for the week, depending on how much time I have. Hopefully you guys will help be accountable for my writing habits that need to be in line with a professional writer because that is my ultimate goal. The only reason I have become a better writer is because I've worked very hard at it, and now it's time to work smarter.
    For this week, I have started working on my blog and book reviews. I have also written on my book and sent query letters. This week is already half way gone and I haven't even reached my word count by far. So by the end of today I will post a sample of what I've written so that I will have proof that I did what I had said I would. This is a way to keep me accountable. Also, I will post what I am reading and how many pages. That way I can make sure that I am keeping a good reading pace as well.
What I'm working on: Today I will be writing on"Flood Waters", which is my literary novel about a hearing disabled young woman in the south, trapped by the cycles of emotional abuse and substance abuse. This is a bit hard to write because it is most autobiographical with some fiction thrown in. But it is liberating so I continue to trudge through. I am also working on my "Dwellers" series that is a fantasy/Science Fiction that is about the dying world and going to other universes. So we will see writing samples from both of these I believe. I may also start a new short story depending on how my writing group goes tonight and if inspiration hits.

Reading: The Duality Bridge by Susan Kaye Quinn - 20 Pages (so far, but may be more before the day is out)

Today's Writing Sample:

Chapter One

  Steam was heavy on the road as she walked it barefoot after the summer Florida thunderstorm. The burning on her feet meant nothing as she gained distance and clarity. Her breathing slowed and the
imagined chain pulled less around the neck. There’s something that Beth learned about imaginary chains that no one ever told her. The chains can be felt and bruise the skin and down to the very core of what she feared. Beth was grateful for the reprieve, the allowed moments down the street and for the extensions on the chains that day.
Where are you going? A voice whispered into her head, you always run way, when things get too hard you don’t do anything...
Beth swallowed as she pulled back her sweaty long hair back out her eyes, “I’m not running away,” she whispered, arguing with herself, but she knew that her own subconscious was right, she couldn’t tell the truth or make a decision so she took the easy way out, a walk around the block instead of facing her life. Turning off her hearing aide and tuning everything out felt like heaven, so it couldn’t be all bad.
  The house had been quiet that morning, and Beth thought perhaps it would be a good day. Things were never that simple as good days and bad days in her house, there was also the chaotic mixture of sane moments that tried to bandage the unbearable ones. Beth brought her momma some breakfast, toast with hot tea just the way she liked it. Momma was sitting up in bed with a cigarette in her hand, her hair flat against her head from sweat and not being washed in a few days. Why bother when there was no place to go?
“About damned time, you would let me starve to death if I didn’t holler at you. You don’t give a shit that I’m laying in this bed waiting for something to eat. All you care about is your damned self!”
Beth sucked in a breath and turned to leave, there was no arguing with her when she was like this. She placed the tray of toast and tea down on the bedside table. “I’m sorry momma,” Beth said, choking back tears and then leaving the room. The only evidence of her anger was shutting the door just a bit too hard. Momma’s storm was already started, and Beth could hear the yelling, calling her names and then something hard hitting the door. It was probably the tea cup. Well that was great,
that meant she would have to clean up the spilled and splattered tea that was all over the room since it was ‘her fault’.
An hour later and her mother was laughing at something on the television and she whistled for Beth to come to her. It was a system they had since she was little. Beth’s hearing aid would pick up whistling further away than voices so her momma always whistled when to tell Beth it was time to come inside or when she needed her to do something. Now it was expected, like a well trained pet that when momma whistled, Beth would come running wagging her metaphorical tail.
“I’m sorry, I was just upset from a dream that’s all, I didn’t mean to yell at you. Not at my baby,” Momma said and each time Beth let her wrap her arms around her and try to forgive. There was something about forgiveness too that Beth realized that no one told her while growing up. Forgiveness isn’t a sure thing, it’s just all hope and best intentions. The storm was blowing outside real hard, but it wouldn’t last long either. Beth’s afternoon exercise when the storm cleared. Momma didn’t mind since she was already asleep again after taking more medicine.Down Chris street was her place to think, there was no stopping just walking around the circular neighborhood with small barely middle class houses. There were plenty of those in Lake City, not many people who lived in the stopping place on the way to Orlando made enough money for something fancy. It was a safe neighborhood though, relatively speaking if you didn’t count the dogs that got loose, most who weren’t trained to be very nice to strangers. It was the barking that Beth heard first and the dogs were on her faster than she could react. There were three dogs, one a huge mastiff, another an English blue pointer but the one who was snarling was a short brown mutt that looked like it had some kind of shepherd in him, a herding dog.
“Hey now take it easy,” Beth said, she had seen these dogs in the yard before but never outside of the fence. It looked like the family was gone since the place as all dark and there hadn’t been cars in the driveway for a week now. An engine behind her and knew it had to be a truck coming down the street. She took a breath and moved over to the side grassy as the truck came down blowing his horn. The dogs ran off and Beth went back towards home. Out of the corner of her eye was a tall figure in the what she thought was the vacant yard calling back the dogs, yelling at them and putting them back in the fence. She didn’t look back long enough to see who it was. The rest of Beth’s afternoon was spent in her own backyard picking up after, feeding and watering their own ten husky and wolf hybrids. Her own was called Shasta, and there was another called Gandalf because he was lanky, and grey and white like the wizard from her favorite movie. She enjoyed her time out there with them but it was hard work out in the heat, and her mother could come out sometimes to play with the animals but mostly the work was left to her. With a hug to her own two best buds she sat down for a minute, catching her breath. How was it even hotter after the storm? A tall elderly woman opened backdoor, she was as blinding pale in summer sun with freckles on her nose, showing what was left of her Irish heritage. Pat boasted of having thick red hair at one time, but now it was just as white as her skin and tied in to small thick ponytail.
“Beth, you done out there? Supper is almost ready.”
Giving Pat a thumbs up before getting up and wiping the dirt off her pants, Beth heads inside. After a quick shower Beth got out the plates and set them on the counter for people to come and fill them up with tuna noodle casserole. Beth remembered when she first had that dish. They were living in Navarre Florida then on the panhandle, they were so far from everything. They didn’t have a car so they took rides with their neighbor, Pat when she needed to go. Pat became best friends with momma and especially Beth. She would go over to Pat’s house and help her cook dinner and watch television, both lonely and in need of an escape. When momma decided to go back to her hometown of Lake City Pat came with them, and Beth couldn’t have been more delighted. Once their plates were made and sweet tea was in their glasses they sat together in the living room and ate as they watched M.A.S. H. reruns, their favorite show. 

“Hawkeye is my favorite,” Beth said between bites and Pat nodded her head giving the young woman a smile.
“Mine too, but really all the characters are well written,” Pat said and that was the first time Beth thought about a show as a story that had been written first. Of course she knew that it had been, but the importance of the writing had been completely lost to her and she was quiet then, watching the show in companionable silence with Pat. Dishes had to be done after the show was over of course and it was Beth’s job since she hadn’t cooked that night. Pat brought in her plate and Beth decided to say what had been on her mind.
“Do you know who lives down in that house with the three dogs in the back?”
Pat shrugged her slender shoulders as she placed her plate in the dishwasher, “I’ve , seen them from a distance. They’ve been gone for awhile this summer,” Pat told her and then Beth heard her mama's whistling the the conversation was dropped when she had to go get her mama’s plate and bring her another drink. The news ran in the background talking about another hurricane headed their way, but the afternoon storm was already blowing outside again hard and fast.

Ending Comments: Thank you for reading and if you have any suggestions please feel free to comment. I love to hear from people about writing!