A Christmas Story Contest Winner: M.E. Lyle’s Interview

Click on image to see the original contest's page

Click on image to see the original contest’s page

Contest winner is M.E. Lyle for his humorous story, A Late Christmas Dinner.   Enjoy his interview

So, tell us a little bit about the piece you wrote, A Late Christmas Dinner, for this contest.

A Late Christmas Dinner was inspired a few years back and based, very loosely, on real events. Of course the story has been greatly exaggerated.  What good are imaginations if we can’t use them?



What else do you generally write?

I generally write light humor, tinted with a bit of romance. I enjoy making readers smile. I also tend to use a lot of dialogue. I don’t know if that’s a good thing or not.   I do very little poetry.

 

How long have you been writing? What inspired you to start?

I’ve been writing since 2007. My early writings are terrible, filled with punctuation errors, and verb confusion messes. I tend to use present tense when I should be using past tense.   I need to go back someday and clean those messes up, but there are so many, and I am so lazy.   I was inspired by Lucy Maud Montgomery’s Anne of Green Gables. It’s always been a favorite.

 

Tell us a little bit about your hopes and dreams as a creative.

My hope is to live long enough to create something worthwhile.   Most of what I write is pretty silly.

 

Where else can we find you and your work?

My work is posted only on WritersCafe.

 

Are you on WritersCafe?  I have a contest called Best of 2016 that runs ’till January 13th.  For this one, the members get to vote on the top finalists.

Why I Write: Contest Winner’s Winning Work

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Why I Write

 

(*From late August through end of October, I ran a contest over at WritersCafe.Org called “Why I Write.”  The premise of the contest was to write a 250-word essay (or a poem) on why you write.)

 

Our 1st place winner of the contest is Eagle Poet for poem, The Page.  You can check out the writer’s profile/other writings here.

 

the-page-winner-of-why-i-write

Click on the image to see the original poem.

 

The Page

by

Eagle Poet

My pencil, an arrow of expression.
It’s fine, gray, tip the connection 
between thought and paper.
A tool breathing life into 
immortalized ideas.
 
A sword slicing through
what can’t be seen, but 
felt. It’s eraser, a magic wand 
zapping away fragments 
which don’t mesh.
 
A lever releasing proclamations 
of misunderstood spirit and soul.
 
Misconceived lines a blueprint,
tape measure gauging the 
distance between conception 
and fulfillment. 
 
Mirrors, simultaneously clear 
and cluttered, the writer sees 
the best and the worst reflecting 
from a single lens,
panoramic. 
 
Page creases are miles 
of a struggle, telling a story,
each one a marking, of a 
composite. 
 
Stray marks indicate steps
walked, easily perceived 
as an unfriendly highway.
 
My pencil is the ticket, 
gets me from point A 
to point  Z. A pointer sets apart
the narrow pathway
and untraveled road.
 
A chisel that carves away
the past engraves a new 
future.

 

 

 

 

Why I Write: Contest Winner Interview

coffee-and-writing

Why I Write

 

(*From late August through end of October, I ran a contest over at WritersCafe.Org called “Why I Write.”  The premise of the contest was to write a 250-word essay (or a poem) on why you write. For the next three Mondays, I will be presenting the winners’ interviews or posting their winning work.  Enjoy!)

 

Our 3rd place winner of the contest is known as WriterGirl247247 for her essay, Saved by Words.  You can check out her profile/other writings here.

 

  1. So, tell us a little bit about the piece you wrote, Saved by Words, for this contest.

My piece, Saved by Words, is the story of how I became a writer. I love nothing more than to create stories. But somewhere along the line my own story slipped through the cracks. So I decided to tell it, because I believe what I express in Saved by Words is felt by many writers.

 

  1. What else do you generally write?

I write mostly young adult adventure, suspense, spy thrillers, and science fiction. And when I can I like to throw in some humor and romance.

 

  1. How long have you been writing? What inspired you to start?

I’ve been writing since I was thirteen. Initially I channeled my creative side through drawing, but never saw myself becoming an artist. I always had stories inside my head since I was I kid and would use them when I drew. Then one day after school, a new idea hit me. Drawing wasn’t working, so I wrote. And I’ve been writing ever since.

 

  1. Tell us a little bit about your hopes and dreams as a creative.

Ideally I’d be a New York Times bestseller, and my books heading to the big screen. But most importantly, I want to create someone’s favorite character. To create someone’s favorite book. I want people to love my worlds as much as I do.

 

  1. Where else can we find you and your work?

I’m currently finishing the first book of a five book series, the idea that drove me to write. Most of my other work can be found under my Writers Cafe profile. I’m also working on the first of another series, Phantoms: The Lost One, which is also under my profile and contemplating publishing it.

 

Two Writing Contests (Deadline is less than three days away!)

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Why I Write  

Submit a 250-word essay or a poem on why do you write.

Top three finishers will have a choice of seeing their essay/poem featured on A Writer and Her Adolescent Muse blog , or be interviewed for the same blog (Purpose? More exposure!)

Interested?  Click here.

spooky-halloween-pic  Super Short Halloween  

In honor of the upcoming frightful holiday, write a super short horror story (100 words max).

Story should be no more than PG-13. Think like Hitchcock…be creative and don’t rely on gore to scare the pants off your readers.

Interested in this one?  Click here.

Enjoy!                                                                                                                                   w

Twilight

dead earth

 

(*Note: This is a short story for the Pandora’s Box of Horrors Challenge)

 

 

Gray clouds hung low in the colorless sky as he watched a group of teenagers clamber down the street littered with rusted and mangled vehicular bodies.   Houses on both sides of the disintegrating asphalt stood in various wretched shapes.   Woods warped.  Windows smashed or missing. Vinyl sidings bent like painful hang-nails.

Like Rome, another giant had fallen.

The group turned down a graveled pathway which led to a large, crumbling brick-laid building that stood three-stories tall.  A sign stretched across the middle of the structure with words etched in the marble slab: Esmond High.

As soon as they crossed the threshold, he turned his eyes toward the heavens.

How much longer now before the imminent end?

He carefully hobbled inside, turned right and entered into a large room.  Inside, several long tables spread across the dusty tiled floor, each partnered with two deformed metallic chairs.   Large windows lined the far wall, and like the others, many were either missing or broken.  They also provided the only source of lighting.

The younger version of adults sat at the three front tables, their eyes rested solely on him.

He shuffled across the room.  Long, wispy white hair hung from his head.  White-black beard partially covered his face, its bottom touched the ragged red and black plaid shirt.

“Good morning, class.”  His voice crackled as he slowly limped to the front where a small wooden desk stood.

“Good morning, Mr. Pike.” The teens replied in unison.

He gingerly set down a plastic bag on the desk which wobbled with the weight being pressed on it.  Mr. Pike turned his cataract-riddled, hazel eyes to the classroom before him.

“It seems our number is ever growing smaller.” He sniffed.

“Marge’s parents have married her off to the Mableton clan so she won’t be coming back.” The lone female in the room spoke in a quiet voice.

“Ethan, Sam, and Levi have been recruited to the front line.” The dark-haired male at the center table said.

“Sal was killed with his parents  by  thieves last night.” The smallish boy next to the brunette female muttered.

“Madness.” The old man whispered as he rapped his arthritic knuckles on the wood.  “This is what we’ve been reduced to.  Constant warring with one another.  Servitude and slavery.  Mockery and misery all around us.  All due to stupidity.  Stupidity.”

“Mr. Pike?”  The girl’s voice drifted to his ears.  “Are you all right?”

He shook his head hard and blinked several times as he struggled to regain his focus on the remaining kids.

“Yes, yes of course I’m alright!” He snapped as his hands gripped the plastic bag.  “It’s a bit disconcerting when I see our future being ripped from us, that’s all.”

“What’s in the bag, Mr. Pike?” A petite oriental boy from the table directly in front of him asked.

The elder released his grip on the bag and began to pat it. “Ah, yes.  The bag.  I discovered the content last evening when I was rummaging through a building that was once a library.”

“What’s a library?” The girl asked.

“My dear Oona,” he said, “a library was used to house what we called books.  Books were once the foundation of which we built a great civilization. Books were what brought us out of the last Dark Ages.  They enabled us to become highly advanced and educated and enlightened.   They were the glue that held us together.”

“What happened?” The small boy next to Oona asked.

“Man grew stupid, Darrin, “he answered. “We grew so enamored with technology and all our wonderful advances, and decided to get rid of books, which contained everything, our souls, to rely completely on digital machines.”

He glanced across the room and saw that all eyes and ears were attuned to him, and continued. “Then the storm happened and wiped out all the technology, and with it our heart and soul as a specie.” He raised a hand into the air. “Hence, you see the result all around us.”

“So…” Mr. Pike reached a hand inside the bag. “For the next few weeks, or for as long as we are able, we’ll be reading two of the greatest books ever written, in my humble opinion, by man.”  And pulled out two heavily worn, hard-covered books. “Moby Dick and War and Peace.”

“Could we take turns reading them?” Oona breathlessly asked.

“I don’t read too well,”  the oriental boy said.

“Don’t worry, Mai, I’ll help you,” she replied.

For the first time, Mr. Pike smiled.

 

Not This Year…

coffee and writing

Well, I won’t “win” NaNoWriMo this year since I’m still sitting at 10,013 words.  That’s fine.  I have a good start on a story that I hope to finish (at least the first draft anyway) in the next few months.

In the meantime, I just finished writing a first draft of a short story that I intend to submit to a contest (deadline is December 21st).  This should give me enough time to do the needed revision/editing.

I have so many writing projects that I’ve started (as well as hope to start), but I feel I don’t have enough time or space to work on them.  I wonder if I could plan a few writing retreats to take in 2015 to help, hmm…

Anyway, time for that third cup of coffee 🙂