It's been a few weeks since the last installment in my Thursday Bragging series. We are now almost caught up to a year ago in my published works. This one is a fantasy flash fiction piece that happens to be one of my favorites, likely because it stems from my love of poetic prose and abstract plots. Enjoy the first few lines of "Apocalypse," published at Yesteryear Fiction.

Corena sits on a bench in a field of marigolds and cement. She sits and watches the people walk past her in the same direction, which is away. They tread on the endless sidewalks lying between the rows of marigold planter boxes. Their expressions are serene as they stare ahead, wearing shapeless clothes the color of corn silk. Some of the people turn and look at her; they turn their heads but don’t stop walking. Most continue onward, focused on the path that is the future. Corena sits. She records the sky’s markings in her notebook. There are many clouds, dark and light grays swirled together like mixing paint. They give her comfort, though the wind is strong today. She fears the time is near, but she hopes the clouds will stay.

You can read the rest of "Apocalypse" for free here. And because I've developed a habit for adding a possibly scene-setting photograph, here is a potential view of Corena's bench as she waits for the world to end.

And here might be the sky on this fate-filled day.

Enjoy!

You may have missed it last week---I know I did---but my second review for WRAL's Out and About was published. This time, I visited Southern Rail in Carrboro to check out their dining scene, knowing full well that the drinking scene is worthwhile! Here are the results:

Southern Rail is a nightlife and dining complex in downtown Carrboro. The Station, their main bar, is housed in a refurbished train station, and the dining takes place in vintage railroad cars. They also have a large beer garden space and two more bars housed inside the facilities. On a warm night with a DJ or band playing outside, Southern Rail and the Station are happening.

I hadn’t tried the food since they first opened five years ago, so I decided to remedy that and investigate whether Southern Rail offered good options for a bite between drinks.

You can read the rest of the post and check out the pictures at Out and About.

My bragging series or "How I Attempted to Embrace Self-Promotion" continues with an entry from my nonfiction creative writing, published online in 2010. This one is a short piece on the disappearance and recovery of Loki, our orange tabby cat who went missing for 8 months back when he was a year and a half old. Here are the first few lines:

Loki is the Norse god of trickery and mischief. He's a shape-shifter, and I'm pretty sure our tomcat is one of his chosen forms. We picked out the name Loki before we went to the shelter, and yet it fit him perfectly.

I wanted an orange tabby because I'd always heard they were the friendliest cats. At the shelter, I was drawn to the loudest meower, a runt of a kitten with a deafening purr even from behind cage bars. He was the only orange tabby there. It was fated that we'd take him home, and he worked his charms to ensure it.

He proved to be a mischief maker just like his namesake. He claimed all of Woodcroft as his domain. Loki was well fed and well loved, but he still fooled many unwitting humans into thinking his easy purr and plaintive meows were signs of hunger. The neighborhood became his personal 24-hour buffet.

The rest of "the Trickster" can be found in online Independent Weekly as part of their annual Dog Days of Summer issue. "The Trickster" appears about halfway down this page. Interestingly, my initial blog post here when Loki first went missing has always been one of my most popular entries. Plenty of people have swung by it when they've also lost a cat, and I'd like to think they found some hope they'd find their pets again from it. Not quite as popular, but much more hopeful, was my post on finding Loki again, and the injuries he suffered and recovered from, getting back to the same crazy animal he always has been with a lessened sense of wanderlust, luckily.

Of course, all this is really an excuse to post a more recent picture of Loki---the cat, the monster, the trickster. This is him with his sisters on either side during a rainy January day.

Time for the next entry in my self-promotion series! She Could Be Me is a short story published by Flashes in the Dark back in May of 2010. And it's available online for free! It's a horror story with a Twilight Zone feel to it. Interested? Here are the first few lines:

“I’m delayed,” Tom said over the phone. Celia could barely hear him with the thunder on her end of the line and the airport loudspeaker playing an endless stream of announcements in Spanish, a language she didn’t understand, on his. The announcer’s voice sounded ethereal and discordant at the same time, like a slightly off-tune harp being plucked.

“I’ll be home tomorrow,” he continued. “Don’t get bent out of shape, okay?”

What was a strange thing to say. She never complained when Tom was delayed.

You can read the rest at Flashes in the Dark here. Perhaps these photos will help you with the atmosphere for enjoying She Could Be Me.

The walk toward Chez Mer:

Celia's drink at Chez Mer:

Now that those pesky recent publications have stopped getting in the way (yes, yes, I wish I could complain about more of them!), I can return to my pattern of posting oldest to newest credits in this self-promotion series. Next up is a short little guest blog post I did back in the fall of 2009 on the Muffin Blog. It was written as a way to vent my frustration after losing years of creative writing due to a hard drive failure.More importantly, it was an ode to all the characters I lost from the crash. Here's your lead-in:

I lost six years of my life. Okay, I’m being a tad dramatic. I lost six years’ worth of word processor documents. They’re gone. They left for the great recycling bin icon in the sky and some jerk emptied it. I’m the jerk.

A few years ago, I decided the old college laptop had to go. It had been wacky since my roommate borrowed it for a night of feverish essay typing and spilled a mug of coffee on it. The keys sank down like molasses when you pressed them and came up 1. . . 2 . . .3 seconds later with a loud click. The down arrow key would possess the cursor, sending it on a race down the monitor, which no control-alt-delete combination could halt.

If your interest is peaked, read the rest at the Muffin Blog! And for your visual pleasure, I give you kitten Verdandi expressing the same rage at dirty laundry as I felt when I realized the files were gone forever.

Would you like to know how good of a year 2012 has been so far? This is the second time I've had to replace one of my planned bragging posts with a just published one instead!  Let's hope this is a trend that continues.

This week, I'm directing you to an essay I wrote for our local independent newspaper, sensibly named the Independent Weekly, or the Indy if you're a local. The Front Porch column is open to readers to send in 500-word essays on any topic, and it's often a great place to get a sense of what others in the community are thinking about or just taste a little slice of someone's life. This week, it's my life you can dig into, or at least my opinions on the running craze and the constant fundraisers around us. Here is your teaser:

On Facebook, I complete the circle of life every day by reading the status updates of friends and acquaintances. Births, weddings, deaths, more births: They're all there on display. Lately, it seems, there's a new element of living that I'd previously neglected. I'm talking about races, the running kind—anything that ends in "-athlon," "-K" or red-faced racers clutching their stomachs as they breathlessly pass a finish line.

Ostensibly, it's both the method of choice to raise money for every known charity and the trendiest way to announce a transition from out-of-shape blob to exercise hound. Watching from the sidelines, it's a little bewildering . . .

For the rest of the Front Porch, either pick up a free copy of the Indy at pretty much any coffee shop and many local businesses or head over to the web version. Thanks for reading!

Two weeks ago, I posted the first in my series of self-promotional blogs on Thursdays, titled the Bragging series, because I always feel less self-conscious about anything if I just embrace it fully. This week, I'm pointing you toward the interview I did with WOW! Women on Writing as part of placing third with the story I shared two weeks ago, Last Complaint. Here's a little snippet from the interview where I describe what some of my thoughts were in forming the main character:

WOW: That's so true. Creating a hook that keeps readers invested is the goal. Your creation of the main character is brilliant. She's self-centered, lonely, demanding, and vulnerable. That's a powerful combination. What does her attitude say about the state of humanity?

Rebecca: Since she spent her life not taking other people's feelings into consideration, she essentially removed herself from humanity and they no longer wish to consider her feelings, either. Through rejecting the simple human connection that comes from things as basic as treating the people around you with respect, she has essentially lost the right to that same treatment herself. Not that I want people to read about a murder and cheer on her death, per se, but I do like that it's a bit of a comeuppance for her and the way she's lived her life.

Read the rest of the interview here. If you do, you'll learn about my other motivations for writing Last Complaint (hint: they aren't that deep), why I started this blog in the first place, and my long and sordid history with General Hospital. This was the first interview I did regarding writing, and it's still one of my favorites, even if I gave the dreaded "Write, write, write" answer for what advice to give new writers. I still hang my head in shame when I remember it.

Last Thursday, my first post for WRAL's Out and About--their blog on the Triangle's entertainment, food, and nightlife--went live, and I didn't even realize it! If I had, you can bet I'd have let you all know about it then. I'll be contributing a couple more pieces for WRAL during the course of the year, and I look forward to it! This first one is on 604 West Morgan, a fancy and delicious Italian restaurant hidden in downtown Durham's warehouse district. Here is your teaser:

I have a compulsion when dining out in the Triangle – I must try a new place every time! We are spoiled with amazing options, and I’m lucky enough to have friends just as excited to try them all as I am.

My dining companions on this particular evening all work in the American Tobacco District in downtown Durham, so we wanted somewhere nearby. The usual suspects like Revolution, Rue Cler and Dos Perros were quickly eliminated – we’d all been to them before!

Where we hadn’t been is an Italian restaurant just half a mile away in the redeveloped West Village warehouses. Unless you happened to glance into the courtyard between the Flowers Warehouse and Cooper Shop buildings as you walked down Fernway or Morgan streets, you wouldn’t know 604 West Morgan was tucked away inside.

For the rest of the review, and pictures, head to the post!

I wouldn't call it a resolution, but I am attempting to do a better job of that self-promotion part of writing. I hate self-promotion. I want people to magically find all my published work, become instant dedicated fans, and beg me to create more stories for them. Funny enough, that doesn't happen on its own! Or at least not at this stage in my career. But this stage in my career is actually pretty awesome, because I've been published several times now, and that's a huge building block in terms of ego and confidence to keep going.

Here's my plan: I'm going to point you all to my published pieces one by one in case you missed them the first time they were published. I'll report links to my interviews on other blogs as well, maybe revel in that time---ok, two times now---that Durham magazine interviewed me on the Triangle dining scene or those times---ok, two times now---that the Independent Weekly mentioned my name. Eventually, I'll even  tell you all about how I'm writing the occasional post for WRAL Out and About, the first of which will be coming out soon. Yes, I've known that for weeks, submitted my first review last week, and I still haven't told the interwebs about it---I really am that bad at self-promotion, folks.

Consider this the first installment in my bragging series, to be posted at least every other Thursday. Our first installment is Last Complaint, a horror short story that won me third place in WOW! Women on Writing's Flash Fiction contest back in 2009. In it, a grumpy old woman finds out that airing her grievances isn't always the wisest plan. Here are the first few paragraphs:

She parks her station wagon under the "No Vacancy" sign. This is the first inn she's passed since dinner at that horrible truck stop diner. Her bowl of clam chowder had been lukewarm and the waitress had the gall to try and make her pay for it. She doubts she'll be treated any better at this place, but she can feel her eyelids drooping.

"Bellboy!" she yells into the dark lot. No one comes. She sighs, then pulls out her suitcase and wheels it towards the small front office that glows with a pale green fluorescence.

"Can I help you?" grunts the middle-aged man wearing a stained gray uniform at the desk. He flips the channel on an old television set that's perched on the countertop behind him.

"I need a room," she says. "How much?"

"We're full up. No vacancy," he gestures towards the sign outside then stares at her, his mouth hanging open.

"That's ridiculous," she insists. "I have a nephew who manages a Hyatt." She waits for this to affect him but his expression does not change. She continues, unperturbed, "There are always extra rooms available, that's what he told me.  Even at the Hyatt."

To continue reading, head here, and scroll down the page about halfway. You'll find my picture and the rest of Last Complaint there. This picture was not taken with the story in mind, but it captures the mood of the latter half of the story, stumbling through a dark hallway half asleep.

Enjoy! And let me know what you thought.

Would you look at that? My romance novella, Maya's Vacation, is on sale for 99 cents until New Year's day. This sale is only happening at Amazon, so click here to purchase it. Forgotten about this story? Well, listen to me read two excerpts from it here or here or read the synopsis:

Twenty-year-old Maya knew, as she watched Dean walk away from her front door, distraught at her silence and her father’s threats, that she would never love anyone with the intensity that she loved him. He was her painter, her artist, her soul mate and being apart from him hurt too much. She tucked those feelings away, determined to enjoy the safe and secure life her parents approved of: business school and a marriage to Chuck, a successful real estate agent.

Thirty years later, Chuck has cheated on and divorced her. But when he comes back, begging for reconciliation, Maya follows her intuition and takes a vacation to think it over. Her love of art, food, and wine combine at this retreat in the woods, and she prepares for a week of making new friends, tasting exquisite wines, and learning to paint again. What she hasn’t prepared for is the familiar voice she hears the first morning at camp . . . a voice that makes her skin tingle and brings back memories of who she used to be before Chuck. Has Maya buried her passion too deep to find love with Dean again?

I hope you love it, and if you do, please leave a review!