An "O-less" Short

Miss Match

         I’m hardly a girly-girl. I live large and in charge, and my tats, spiked hair and perverse jewelry keep any inquiring men at arm’s length when I’m in public. Still, as I rambled up the sidewalk flanking the Sunset Strip, I realized I was taking a risk. This late after dark, the freaks always emerged.

         I didn’t care. Fierce anger brewed in my gut. The fight with my beau, Dennis, lingered, eating away at me. Defiant, I trudged ahead, raging silently, turning excuses in my mind even as the actual argument slipped away. He’d dared utter that language at me, dared challenge my sincerity. Unbelievable.

         I raised my gaze and saw a man dressed in full Dracula regalia heading my way. His cape lifted behind him with haunting grace, as if in the still nighttime air an ethereal headwind blew just at him. Steps away, he halted right in my path. Drawing in a breath that puffed his chest, he tasted the air between us like a dégusteur sampling a fine wine. Leveling his gaze, he addressed me.

         “Excuse me,” he drawled with an authentic Transylvanian accent, “but I seek asylum in a lieu rich with helpless victims.”

         Strange as it was and despite the dark, deserted street, I didn't feel alarmed. Instead I laughed, surprised at the sudden lightness I felt. My anger had seemingly vanished. I jutted my hip. “Where’s the party, dude?” I asked, letting my eyes finger his face. He had exquisite facial features, dark and beautiful in a gleaming, buffed marble way. Mercy, I suddenly felt drunk.

         Dracula’s red-rimmed eyes emitted an eerie light. “Party?” His lips curled, until they became a measured, sickle-shaped smile. Was that a fang?

         Chill bumps tickled my skin.

         “Yes, magnificent idea, my dear girl. Where is party?”

         Dennis (the Dick’s) stupid face entered my mind. I glanced at my watch; it’d be a while until Dennis started fretting, regretting what he did. Screw him. I was fine with him suffering all night, after what he’d said earlier.

         “Yeah, let’s party. There’s a wild dance club three streets that way.” I indicated with a skull-ringed finger. “I’ll lead the way.”

         As Dracula fell in silent step beside me, I asked, “Incidentally, why didn’t I seem like a--” I drew reference marks in the air with knuckle-bent fingers, “--helpless victim?" I jabbed him playfully in the ribs. "I’ll bet it’s my wicked attitude and punk attire, right?”

         He chuckled, a vibrating hum that encircled my head and rattled my essence. “It isn’t that.”

         I bristled. What else made sense?

         “Just aren’t my type, my dear,” he said airily.

         “And what type is?” I challenged.

         He turned and smiled, extended fangs sparkling in the streetlamp’s glare. “My preference, dear girl, is A-negative.”

 Thanks for reading!!  Hope you have a fantastic weekend!

                                    

~PAUSE~

The time has come for me to admit to myself and all my online friends that I need to push the cyber 'Pause' button, even though doing so will halt most of my daily Web adventures.

I love this blog!  And I adore all of you, my friends who have taught me so much about a writer's journey by sharing yours.  I never want to lose touch with you!  I'm not unplugging for good, just pausing. J

Here's the thing:  It's summertime in Georgia.  My kids have been out of school for a week, and time management has become a knife juggler's act.  Daily workouts (that I sooooo need!), regular housecleaning (bleh.), trips to the neighborhood pool (yeah, life's tough...), and spending quality time with my kids (they are the best!) leaves very little time for me.


When I sneak away to the computer, I want to write.  But instead, I read blogs, update my own, Facebook my friends and family, and tweet.  Also, I'm a moderator at Writing.com, and I have responsibilities that go along with the title that include submitting a monthly newsletter and reviewing member stories and poems.  By the time I actually open my WiP document, the kids are accusing me of being 'boring' again, and would I please come down and hang out with them.


So, clearly something's gotta give.  Although this decision wrings my heart, I've decided to change my blogging goals for the summer.


Instead of using this platform to network, learn, and enjoy the awesome writing community you have all provided me, it will become my writer's journal.


About once a week, I'll update my progress, give voice to my frustrations, and simply validate my writing efforts.  I don't expect anyone to read these posts, especially since I won't be leaving comments on many other blogs.  I will read posts during writing breaks, but my presence will be like the scent of honeysuckle on a spring breeze, sweet but barely perceptible.


I hope my wonderful followers won't drop me, but if some decide to unfollow I'll understand.  So much of blogging is reciprocation; this I know and respect.


I plan to stay connected through the convenience of Android (I love you, new phone!!).  I tweet regularly, something I can do away from my computer.  If we haven't found each other on Twitter, I'm @NicoleDwrites.  I follow back! 


I'm also on Facebook: Nicole Ducleroir.  If we're not friends yet, send me a request pleeease!  I want to know how your writing is going and cheer you on.


If you'd like, leave me your twitter ID and facebook name in the comments, so I can find you.


I will miss regular blogging, but let's face it: what do I need a platform for if I'm not WRITING??  Time to put the horse back in front of the cart.  (Ick, a cliché *shudder*)  Man, can I do this?  I already miss blogging, and I haven't clicked publish yet!  Okay, deep breath.  Here it goes...

                                    

Sneaky Red Sock GIVEAWAY Winners!

The winners of The Sneaky Red Sock Giveaway are:

Monica Mansfield @ Storytelling and Me

Susanne Drazic @ Putting Words Down on Paper

Linda H. @ Lind-guistics

Whoot!!!!  Each of you have won a signed copy of Ali Murdoch's poetry collection entitled The Sneaky Red Sock.  Congrats!  I'll be in touch via email to gather your mailing 411.

Thanks for playing along, everyone!

                                    

Sneaky Red Sock GIVEAWAY!

[Don't miss the Giveaway details at the bottom of this post!!]

A couple months ago, my sister's brother-in-law contacted me about a book his colleague wrote titled The Sneaky Red Sock.

Ali Murdoch is the creative mind behind this eclectic collection of poems.  Murdoch's sense of humor permeates everything he pens, including his Amazon Author Central author blurb:

Ali Murdoch is an entrepreneur turned author, who had to rely on the business route when his sporting career was cut tragically short by a lack of any real talent. The father of three very troublesome children he lives on Long Island, New York and does his best to keep control by threatening to recite poems at night unless they go to bed. It even works some of the time!

What I loved about this book:

Murdoch's clever prose reminds me of Shel Silverstein's work.  Like Silverstein, Murdoch crafts poems with a wonderful melodic quality and canny humor.

Every poem illustrates the sharp, witty way Murdoch perceives the world around him.  This book is full of smart plays on words and observant imagery that brought a smile to my face again and again.

The comic drawings by illustrator Simon Goodway were brilliant and heightened the humor of each piece.

The website Murdoch created to promote his book is wonderful!  Check it out here --> www.sneakyredsock.com

Here's an example I loved from the book:

Committed
by Ali Murdoch, The Sneaky Red Sock, page 24

I was given a quiz, which I think I've solved
To explain the difference between Committed and Involved.
I was eating my breakfast, when the analogy fitted,
The hen was involved, but the Pig was committed.


Some Criticisms:

This book is self-published -- which I think is fantastic!!  However, a publisher may have cautioned against a couple things, such as:

The Sneaky Red Sock looks like its target audience is children.  The cover art is bright and cartoon-ish, something I would expect to see shelved in the children's book section.  And, the back cover blurb begins with, Welcome to a world where booby traps are successfully sprung, ghosts frighten teddy bears, and sneaky red socks turn everything in your washer a nice salmon color.  -- All this suggests to me that it is appropriate for children.

And in fact, many of the poems are.  But many aren't.  In the back blurb's second paragraph, Murdoch says, Misbehaving children and even grandparents' rowdy parties are all dissected with a moral scalpel...  -- I think a traditional publisher would have taken greater care to market this book to one intended audience.

Also, a publisher would have used a professional editor who would have found and fixed the mechanical issues throughout the book, starting perhaps with the punctuation typo on the back cover:  This eclectic mix of poems, cartoons and ditties brings you face to face with the US Army's most secretive of weapons, "the Bunny Blaster" and their all new "Think Tank".


Above all else, though, Murdoch's wonderful sense of humor captures your attention and keeps you turning the pages to see what ingenious and entertaining observations of life's absurdities he tackles next.  The Sneaky Red Sock truly has something for every member of the family to enjoy, though adults should pick out those their younger children will most appreciate.

I have THREE signed copies of The Sneaky Red Sock to share with you!  To add your name to the drawing I'll hold on Monday, May 23rd simply leave me a comment on this post!

Please Tweet and FaceBook!  Thanks!!

                                    

Action Drives Reaction

As authors, we strive to draw readers alongside our POV character and into the action of the scene. The goal is to so thoroughly engross readers that they forget they're reading words on a page and begin to watch the compelling scene playing out on the movie screens of their minds.

Achieving this goal begins with an author's understanding of one simple concept: Action drives reactions.

Consider this: In real life, if you bring a hammer down on your finger (action), pain will explode in that digit (reaction). You may yelp (reaction), possibly unleash a string of curse words (reaction), maybe throw the hammer down and clutch the hurt finger (reactions).

Now, if this scenario were to play out on a movie screen, you wouldn't hear the actor yelp in pain before you saw the hammer hit his finger. Nor would you see him clutch his finger and then hear him yelp in pain. Actions and reactions must be in the right order for the scene to come across as realistic.

One of the most common mistakes in fiction writing is presenting the reaction before the action. How many times have you read something like the following?

Art Source

Pain exploded in Paul's jaw as Jason's powerful punch connected with his face.

Here, the reaction (pain exploded in Paul's jaw) happens before the action (Jason's powerful punch connected with Paul's face). The sequence of action and reaction is out of order.

To better understand why it is crucial to write actions and reactions in sequential order, it helps to recognize that actions are external and objective, while reactions are internal and subjective responses to that action.

To illustrate this theory, let's hone in on the action from the example above:

Jason's powerful punch connected with Paul's face.

Notice that this action is external, as it occurs outside Paul, the POV character. It is also objective, because any character in the room could have seen it happen. This action is the catalyst for the chain of reactions it sets off, so it must come first. 

The reaction, however, is internal. The pain exploding in Paul's jaw is felt from the inside. None of the characters present except Paul, the POV knows what the punch feels like, in this moment. 

Reactions are also subjective because they are responses to what the POV character perceives, what comes through the filter of his or her awareness. Though his impressions may not match the perceptions of other characters in the scene, they are what motivate his reactions. And the POV character's reactions are the keys to drawing readers inside the POV character's heart and mind, and ultimately into the story, itself. 

It's also important to the authenticity and believability of an action scene that certain reactions happen before others. Instantaneous, knee-jerk reactions logically occur before conscious actions and speech. Continuing with our example, Jason has just punched Paul in the jaw:

The immediate, involuntary reaction is the pain shooting through Paul's jaw. A split second later and in response to that pain, Paul's reflexes fire. Very quickly, though, Paul recovers. His rational mind catches up, and he's ready for conscious action and speech. Here's a revised and expanded scene:

Jason's powerful punch connected with Paul's face.

Pain exploded in Paul's jaw. He shook his head in disbelief. As his vision cleared, he looked up through stringy brown hair and smirked. Raising his dukes, he circled Jason. "That it? That all you got, little man?"

Notice that the action is presented in its own paragraph, separated from the reactions in the new paragraph that follows it. This is also important to the logic and comprehension of the scene. The transient pause in narration at the end of the action paragraph allows the reader to absorb the implications of that action, before going on to experience the POV's reactions.

The sequence of actions and reactions is cyclical. When the POV has fully reacted, he will be spurred to further action (which will go in a new paragraph). This action will initiate reactions by the other characters, which in turn will cause them to act, triggering more reactions by the POV, and so on. The sequence of actions and reactions repeats, until the scene ends.

Writing compelling action scenes is a skill that sharpens over time with practice. Writers new to the craft, though, may find that concentrating too hard on theory hinders their creativity. This is a legitimate concern I once shared. I would suggest writing the first draft with unfettered, creative abandon. Then, use the revision phase to scrutinize drafted scenes, correcting wherever the sequences are out of order and the reaction comes before the action. Doing so will strengthen your current manuscript, while honing your writing skills for fiercer first drafts, in the future.

[This article originally appeared on March 30, 2011 in a newsletter I wrote for Writing.com.]

Thanks for reading!

                                    

A-Z Thank Yous and An ANNOUNCEMENT

(Very special announcement at the bottom of this post!)

Is it May already??  I was in a bit of a haze this whole A-Z Blogfest: head down and plugging away.  Then Friday's Royal Wedding had the reality haze feeling more like a fog, and now today's news that Public Enemy #1 is dead has me spinning in pea soup fog.

*waves arms in the air, swishing the fog, clearing her mind*

Thank you's are in order.  Thank you, Jessica Bell, my A-Z partner-in-crime who came up with the idea to write micro-fiction entries prompted by an alphabetical list of emotions, feelings, and states of mind.  I had such a wonderful time coming up with ways to show the prompt word, and each time a commenter guessed the word correctly validated my efforts that day.

So thank you, fellow bloggers, for your visits, for reading my posts, and for playing along in this mad game of "guess what?"  Without your support and encouraging comments, I would have lost steam by "H!"

A special thanks goes out to Arlee Bird for his genius idea for the blogfest, and to his amazing co-hosts. You guys rock:

Jeffrey Beesler's World of the Scribe 
Alex J. Cavanaugh Alex J. Cavanaugh 
Jen Daiker's Unedited 
Candace Ganger's The Misadventures in Candyland 
Karen J Gowen at Coming Down the Mountain 
Talli Roland 
Stephen Tremp's Breakthrough Blogs 



Lastly, I want to thank Elizabeth Mueller for the pretty blog award at the top of this post.  Thanks for helping 
recognize the effort and energy every A-Z participant put into the challenge!

I have a special announcement!

Gina Maxwell has discovered a young writer who at the tender age of 18 shows incredible promise in her craft.  She's penned an essay that Gina shared on her blog today.  Gina asked me if I'd help direct traffic to her blog, so you can enjoy it too.


Please pop over and see what all the buzz is about!  Follow this link to Gina's blog.


Thanks so much, and have a wonderful, SAFE, peaceful day!!

                                    

'Z' is for...??

We made it to ‘Z’!!  I’ve really enjoyed the A-Z Blogfest because it’s had me writing flash fiction every single day.  I’m horribly burnt out and need a serious break, but it’s been a wonderful and wild ride.  My heartfelt thanks to the talented Jessica Bell for coming up with the idea to practice ‘show, don’t tell’ skills using an A-Z list of emotion/feeling/state of mind prompt words.  It was a brilliant concept, Jess!

And so, for the last time this year, you will find below a short excerpt in which a character depicts an emotion/feeling/state of mind, this time beginning with the letter ‘Z’.  Can you guess, based on my writing, what that prompt word is?  Leave your guess in the comments, and then follow the link to Jessica’s blog.  Easy-peesy!

Here we go:

The parade snaked its way down the block toward the intersection of Piedmont and First.  Colors sparkled under the morning sun, brightening the city as thumping Euro-dance music ebbed and flowed on the breeze.  A cop stood under the traffic lights, directing the marchers around the right hand turn.  His stoic face was chiseled in stone, his eyes hidden behind black aviator shades.

In the advancing crowd, a bearded man in a fluffy, flowered skirt passed by.  Graying chest hair peeked out over the edge of his yellow tube top, and silver socks twinkled in the sun.  He pushed a neon pink stroller with a beagle wearing a Hawaiian lei for a collar riding inside.

Behind him rode five scooters side-by-side.  Each was a different color from the rainbow, and each driver was shirtless, his torso body-painted to match the color of his ride.

Partial nudity was a common sight.  Some of the marchers wore chaps paired with g-string thongs.  One opted for simply a pair of bootie shorts and a peacock tail, fashioned out of long, colorful, balloon artist’s balloons.

The cop stood, statue-still, silent.  Three men dressed like butterflies flit over to him.  “Here, honey!” one sang.  “Here’s a little sparkle to brighten you up!”  He dropped a beauty queen-style sash over the policeman’s head and let it drape across his chest before dancing off to rejoin his friends.

The cop looked down at the yellow sash with its rainbow sequin border.  It bore one word: Pride.  Despite himself, the cop grinned.

~~~~~~~~~~~

Any idea what ‘Z’ word I’ve depicted here?  I look forward to your comments!

Thanks so much for sharing this blogfest experience with me!  Your thoughts and comments each day have made it so enjoyable.  Looking forward to having more time to visit all your blogs on a more regular basis, now that this blogfest is OVER!  J

Jessica Bell’s last blogfest entry is HERE.  Pop over to read her creative genius inspired by our ‘Z’ prompt word.  See you there!

                                    

'Y' is for...?

Thanks for all the wonderful visits yesterday!  The prompt word was 'Xenophobia' -- and almost everyone got it right!  Whoot!

Today, I have the Royal Wedding on my mind and had to tear myself from the TV to post this.  I love watching happy history unfold!  So, I've used a piece of flash fiction I wrote last year for today's excerpt.  Although the  piece overall reflects the prompt,  I'm putting the section that best depicts the 'Y' emotion/feeling/state of mind word in colored text.  (I hope it isn't distracting as you read!)  Leave me a guess in the comments telling me what 'Y' word comes to mind.  Jessica Bell's link will follow!

Here goes:

Nora’s fingertips grazed the silky fabric on the bed. Grasping the nylon tank top, she straightened, then hyper-extended her back just enough to lay the shirt on her chest and fold it properly. Her nose twitched, and she stiffened.

She’d smelled Bradley’s sour scent before she heard him enter the doorway behind her. Laying the folded tank in the suitcase before her, she said, “No use sneaking up. I know you’re there.”

Willing her hand to steady, she reached for another fistful of clothing. A zipper jingled from the heavy fabric. Hoodie. She felt along the garment to locate the sleeves, and then laid it -- arms open wide -- across the suitcase. She imagined herself like that, living in the hoodie’s pose, embracing life. Her heart raced at the thought.

As Nora brought one sleeve across to fold the jacket in half, the weight of Bradley’s hand suddenly fell on her arm, fingers closing on Nora’s wrist with an iron grip. She jumped and winced, cowering.

He shook her. “I don’t remember telling you I said it was okay to go.”

His hot, ashtray breath chilled the beads of sweat that’d sprung across her upper lip. She pulled to free her arm but he yanked hard, jerking her forward. Pain shot up the inside to her armpit.

“Let her go.”

Nora’s head snapped in the direction of the doorway and her brother’s voice. The vice released her, and she stumbled against the bed. 

“Who the hell do you think you are, Ron?” Bradley spat. “You can’t just waltz into my friggin’ house.”

“It’s my sister’s house too. She asked me to come up and help her with her packing.” Ron returned Bradley’s glare for two beats before he walked to Nora and kissed her cheek. “You ready to go?" he asked softly. Nora heard a smile enter his voice as he went on. "I’ve been waiting six months for you to cash in my birthday present to you.”

“What kind of a friggin' idiot takes a blind person rafting?” Bradley said with a sneer.

Ron snapped the suitcase shut and offered Nora his elbow. As she took it, he said, “I guess this kind does.”

The next afternoon, adrenalin pumping through her veins with a ferocity she’d never known, Nora grasped Ron’s hand as they stumbled out of the raft.

“That was fucking amazing!” Nora screeched. Her laughter melded with the sound of the bubbling river rushing through the canyon they’d just descended.

Ron hugged her. “See little sis, you can do anything you set your mind to. Your real handicap all these years hasn’t been your eyes.”

Nora stepped back and drew in a deep breath. Slowly, she reached her arms wide open, tilting her chin so the sun warmed the whole of her face. “When we get back to the hotel, make the call,” she said.

“Good,” Ron said. “My secretary has the papers drawn up. He’ll be served tomorrow.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Any idea what feeling or emotion I'm hinting at here with Nora?  Looking forward to your comments.  And here's a link to Jessica's blog, so you can read her offering based on the same mystery prompt word beginning with 'Y.'  See you there!

                                    

'X' is for...?

Yesterday's A-Z prompt word was 'Wanton.'  Thanks to everyone who popped in for a visit and comment!  J

It's the final stretch!!  Today's 'X' prompt word is depicted by a character in the excerpt below.  See if you can guess what emotion/feeling/state of mind  I've described that begins with 'X'.  (There really aren't many 'x' states of mind!)  Can't wait to read your comments!  And remember, Jessica Bell is working with the same prompt words as I am this A-Z Blogfest.  There's a link to her blog below.

So without further ado, here is my entry for the day:


Las Vegas, Nevada.  July 13, 1991.  Ten o'clock a.m.
          Brenda glared from behind the safety of her register counter at the crowd in the convenience store.  Every aisle was clogged with wiry, dirty-looking young people, many dressed in ridiculous assortments of tie-dyed clothing.  Long lines of them snaked from the restroom doors and down the length of coolers.  Her eyes shifted when the men's room door opened and two barefoot girls in tube tops and peasant skirts emerged.
          The bell over the entryway jingled and she turned her head in that direction.  A tall man with no shirt and ratty dreadlocks to his waist bounced in, carrying a boom box on his shoulder.  Sugar Magnolia blared.  Heads began to bob.  The girls in the tube tops broke out in a swaying dance that had their skirts swirling and jingle-bell anklets jangling.
          "Hey you!" Brenda called out. "Turn that thing off in here!" 
          Damn you, Mikey, for calling in sick today.  And damn you, Jerry Garcia, for spawning this generation of filthy, free-loading, hippie throw-backs.  Once a year this circus descended for a weekend of Vegas shows, and every year it was the same.  Not one of these losers will buy anything.  They're here to take a piss and shove as many moon pies and beef jerky sticks down their pants as possible.
          "Excuse me, miss?"
          Brenda jumped, her heart clawing its way to her throat as her glare shot down to the man standing at the counter.  His gray t-shirt may have started out green, but it was tattered and stained and looked like it hadn't seen a washing machine in months.  Emerald eyes gazed at her from a bronzed and heavily bearded face.  The faint aroma of marijuana floated around him.
          "Yes, what do you want?"  Brenda's voice quavered.
          "I was just wondering if you could give me directions to the post office?  I want to send my mom a post card.  Tour's only half over and I miss her like crazy, you know?"  He smiled sheepishly.
          Brenda narrowed her eyes and wondered what he was up to. 


~~~~~~~~~~~~


So what do you think?  What state of mind/emotion/feeling have I described here?  And do pop over to Jessica's blog to see what she's come up with for our 'X' prompt word of the day.  See you over there! 

                                    

'W' is for...??

Yesterday's A-Z prompt word was 'Vanity.'  So many of you guessed right, which is awesome feedback for me!  Thanks everyone J

Today's 'W' prompt word is depicted by a character in the excerpt below.  See if you can guess what emotion/feeling/state of mind  I've described that begins with 'W'.  (This one may be tough, but I hope not!)  Can't wait to read your comments!  And remember, Jessica Bell is working with the same prompt words as I am this A-Z Blogfest.  There's a link to her blog below.


Here's my 'W' entry:


Gobi Chanel breezed through the crowded nightclub as if she were the only person in the place.  The Red Sea of dancing, drinking patrons sensed her presence or perhaps they smelled her perfume, for they parted before her, opening a pathway to the dance floor.  

Under the sparkling mirrored ball, she began to move her hips.  Her body swayed with serpentine grace, drawing every mesmerized eye in the room.

As the music regained its control on the crowd, it moved in and collapsed Gobi’s corridor.  A tall man with mocha skin shimmied up to her.  She narrowed her eyes in a gaze of seduction which the man acknowledged by placing his hands on her hips.   They moved together, her hips grinding against his.  When the song ended, he spun her into a dip.

The next song was up-tempo, and Gobi added some popping moves to her gyrations.  She turned and found herself face-to-face with a muscular blond.  Her moves mirrored his, and when he pulled her close to him, she pressed her curves against his chiseled chest.  


And Gobi began to grind her hips. 




Any ideas what emotion/feeling/state of mind I've described here?  Love to hear your guesses!  And please stop over at Jessica's blog where she's posted an entry prompted by the same 'W' word.  See you there!

                                    

'V' is for...?

I enjoyed all your comments yesterday!  Thanks for visiting, and many of you guessed the prompt word.  I was describing 'Uppityness.'  Well done!!

Today's 'V' prompt word is depicted by a character in the excerpt below.  See if you can guess what emotion/feeling/state of mind  I've described that begins with 'V'.  Can't wait to read your comments!  And remember, Jessica Bell is working with the same prompt words as I am this A-Z Blogfest.  There's a link to her blog below.


Here's my 'V' word entry:



The baby’s cries drifted into the room like smoke from the hallway.

Céline shifted her jaw, catching a mound of slick inner cheek flesh between her teeth, and concentrated all her effort on the task at hand.  In the mirror, she watched.

The ivory handle of the brush felt warm in her hand.  She relished the way the stiff bristles raked her head, massaging her scalp from the part at the center all the way to the base of her skull.  Then as the brush sailed down the zip-line of long locks, she savored the delicious tug of follicles resisting the pressure, until the brush dropped off near her waist.

The baby’s cries were louder.  He’d have to be patient.  She was on the one hundred and sixty-nineth stroke; almost finished.

Céline tilted her head as she brushed.  From this angle, the light played from the right, illuminating shimmers of scarlet flecks in the curtain of her chestnut hair.  It gleamed, smooth and silky, like new Barbie doll hair.

She brushed from the back, dragging her hair forward and letting it drape around her.  Stroke after stroke, she smoothed every strand into place until the bodice of her white nightgown was completely hidden beneath her hair.  Five more strokes on each side and, there, she was finished.

In the mirror, Céline’s eyes roved her reflection, her crowning glory in a state of utter perfection.  The baby continued to cry.

Céline sighed and stood up.  “Coming, love.” 

~~~~~~~~~~

Any ideas what emotion/feeling/state of mind Céline depicted in this excerpt?  Looking forward to your guesses!  And here's a link to Jessica's blog to read her 'V' word entry.  See you over there!

Have a grand day and thanks for reading!