Peabody Nugget Number One:
Smoke from the steam engine encircled her as if she were an apparition emerging from a fog. She glanced
Wow. I don't even know where to start. This chick is obviously in close proximity to a live train, but the point of view is schizophrenic at best. My metal-filled molars are screaming at the prospect of biting down on this hunk of foil. I'm pretty sure I loaded up at the romance buffet line that morning, with heaping piles of hotcakes and I-can't-believe-Fabio-isn't-here butter and purged it that evening all over this poor, unsuspecting note pad.
Peabody Nugget Number Two:
He'd never have noticed her, so ordinary was she, had the woman not drawn attention to herself by stumbling down the passenger car steps, creating a domino effect of passengers lying in a heap among luggage and stray accessories. She flipped her bonnet away from her forehead and glared back at the steps as if they'd awakened for
So I had trains on the brain for this conference. Sue me. The only redeeming thing here is that the heroine took a major digger off the platform. And that the hero was there to witness it and find amusement. Tripping is funny, people. Any way you slice it.
Peabody Nugget Number Three:
"A dramatic moment calls for an economy of words." -LaVyrle Spencer
Now this is a nugget worth remembering. Well worth the sacrificial pulp and ink. That it is attributed to one of my favorite romance authors is even better.
Peabody Nugget Number Four:
The worst blizzard Betty had seen in 3 decades slammed into the
Betty lit a solitary candle. The flame danc
Poor Betty. No really. She's trapped in a cliché-storm where the earth's gravitational pull is conspiring against her and she has a telekinetic gift of which she is, apparently, unaware.
Why do I share these, you ask? Life has a way of sending messages when we most need to hear them. I needed to see these today to remind myself how far I have come as a writer. A gift of perspective not everyone gets.
I wish I could say I remember writing these Peabody nuggets. I don't. I remember the duck parade with more clarity. Yesterday, I reread chapter one from my current project. I don't remember writing much of that, either. Writing is a strange beast. It hijacks the mind and turns the body into a conduit for truth. Somewhere in this hijacked landscape waits a klutz, a house-bound frau, and a siren with red-flecked eyes who is sure to become someone's desire. Maybe one of them will step forward in my next thirty-thousand. Maybe not. For today I am thankful for the reminder.
What message did life send you today?