The Empty Fish Tank

Almost exactly a year ago to the day my husband brought Mr. Odie home to live with us. He has been one of the best pets ever... considering he's a fish. For one, he hasn't died yet. In terms of our experiences with fish, he's a centenarian. Hell, he's freakin' Yoda.

The kids really wanted a kitten, in fact, Sidney had launched a full-blown campaign to persuade her father that our family was sadly incomplete without a pet. When Christian brought Mr. Odie home the children were enthusiastic (even Sidney, who declared this "was not what she meant by a pet"), especially since Mr. Odie was a Betta Fish. Up until then, we'd only welcomed standard Tetras and Mollies into our tank. They were fun to have around for the week or so they managed to stay alive. Betta fish are apparently much heartier creatures. In addition, Mr. Odie has real personality. He comes right to the glass when you peer into his tank. And they say a Betta Fish is as playful as a dolphin. If you drop a ping pong ball onto the surface of the water, a Betta Fish will push it around the tank with his nose. Although, if Mr. Odie can perform this trick, he's keeping it a secret from us.

In honor of Mr. Odies's annivarsary, I'd like to share a poem I wrote last year prior to his arrival.

You see, the fish tank occupies what I consider valuable real estate in the kitchen. It's located on a stretch of wall between the end of the countertop and the table -- a space where I have always envisioned a bulky, rustic sideboard-like piece of furniture where I could store table linens and the overflow of dinner ware. There was almost a year between the passing of the last fish and Mr. Odie's arrival. During that time, the fish tank was empty. I wanted it dismantled and moved to the garage, but Christian liked the look of an aquarium and enjoyed the percolating sound of water through the filter. So it stayed. Empty.

I'd planned on framing the following poem and hanging it above the vacant tank, as a passive-aggressive jab at my husband's stubbornness. Before I got the chance, he brought the Betta home. Mr. Odie, this one's for you!

The Empty Fish Tank
By Nicole Ducleroir

Giggling water gurgles
from a guppy's ghost town tank
It sits fishless in my kitchen;
Stubborn husband I have to thank.

He'd see the stretch of wall undressed
should the vacant tank disappear;
That the spot would sport a buffet
is ignored by his id austere.

The battle of mismatched iron wills
rages on the silent front line.
I'll bide my time, but once I find
that perfect piece....
The space is MINE.

I'd Like to Thank the Academy...

Whoever came up with the blogger award concept was a genius. Not only does receiving and passing along the award offer the opportunity to link some of your favorite blogs to your post -- thus generating new or return readership to those people, but learning someone passed it on to you gives your heart a little cyber-squeeze. At least that's what it does for me!



Perhaps the best part of all, though, is the fun of sending the award out to other blogging friends. Today, I have the pleasure of doing that four times over! With no further ado, here we go:









I want to thank Anne at Piedmont Writer and Tara at Feel of Something New for this award. Anne speaks from her heart, with a voice that is at the same time strong and humorous, and inviting and free-spirited. Tara is a talented writer whose creativity and kindness comes through every sentence she pens. I enjoy both these blogs on a daily basis. If you don't get your daily dose of these wonderful women, visit them today!



I'd like to pass the Sunshine Award on to these bright, new blogger buddies:



Heather at See Heather Write
G.P. Ching at So, Write
Terresa at The Chocolate Chip Waffle
Elle at The Writer's Funhouse
Tiffany at Tiffany Neal








Thank you to Simon at Constant Revision and Laurel at Laurel's Leaves for this awesome award. I love Simon's hilarious sense of humor! Every post is the perfect blend of serious and snarky. He shouldn't be reading this, because he's on a Blogger Hiatus...(*waves to Simon*)...If you don't already, go sign up to follow him! And sweet Laurel is another blogger buddy I read faithfully every day. She's going places; check her out!



The Creative Writer Award goes to these fab writers:

Rebecca at Diary of a Virgin Novelist
Courtney at Courtney Reese
Shelley at Stories of the Ordinary
DL Hammons at Cruising Altitude
Allison at Borrowing Heaven, Subletting Hell





Thank you, Jemi at Just Jemi, for this adorable award! Jemi's posts brighten my day and if you want a burst of sunshine in yours, click over to her blog today! Apparently, this award comes with the instructions to share with you how I like my eggs. Odd, but fun! My typical breakfast includes a four egg white omlette (which sounds like a lot, but it really isn't), paired with half a cup of oatmeal. I wash it down with at least 8 oz. of water and two cups of coffee. Yep...by the time I get to the gym at 9:00, I've gotta tinkle b a d! TMI, I know. Sorry!!



The Quill Feather Award goes to seven cool chicks:

Abby at Abby Annis
Roni at *Fiction Groupie*
B.J. at B.J. Anderson
Elana at Elana Johnson, Author
Jamie-Kate at Jamie-Kate Writes
Lisa and Laura (BOTH cool chicks!) at Lisa and Laura Write






And to my friend, Shelley at Stories from the Ordinary, thanks for this award!! Shelley's creative talent jumps off the screen as I read through her inspired posts. She's got a wonderful voice; visit her today!



The Sugar Doll Award goes to:

Joanne at Whole Latte Life
Mary at Writer's Butt Does Not Apply to Me
Diana at Writing Roller Coasters
Chasing the Moon at Dancing Down Serendipity Street



*PHEW* That was a lot at once!! I hope you all check out these amazing and crazy talented writers' blogs. I enjoy them, and I know you will too!!

Don't forget to click HERE and enter my contest! Drawing on March 15th :)


Have a fantastic Hump Day!!!

Tuesday Teaser

I'm busy working on my WIP today. In fact, I have challenged myself with lofty writing goals for the month of March, and I'll rely on the next several Tuesdays to keep me accountable. I'll post teasers from my WIP in the next several weeks...but not today :)

Today's teaser is an excerpt I'm pulling from a short story I wrote last year entitled, "Under Dock and Key." The story was prompted by a photograph of a narrow, wooden dock stretching out from the shore of a lake. The still, mirror-like water reflected the sky across its surface. Enjoy!

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...A minute later, Samantha pointed. “There it is!”

As Samantha steered the car from the dirt road onto a still narrower path, both women gasped. Into view appeared a quaint, white building with large windows overlooking a lake. The shore was lined with a sandy beach, and a narrow, wood-plank dock stretched thirty feet into the water. Gentle mountains rose in the distance, giving the scene a picturesque and protected semblance.

“No way,” Samantha exclaimed. “Do you think….?”

Marla tore the key off the paper. “Let’s see what this unlocks,” she said with a mischievous smile.

Samantha led the way up the steps. Rollercoaster riding had been one of her favorite childhood activities, and the excitement mingled with fear in her stomach now reminded her of the sensation she got standing on the quay about to board the ride. The key quavered in her hand but slid fluidly into the lock. It turned with a loud click and the door swung open a few inches. Samantha looked over her shoulder at Marla, who gave her a reassured nod.

Light flooded the cottage’s main room. Out the lakefront windows, the cloud cover was breaking apart. Dazzling sunlight danced on the gentle waves near the shore; its fiery flecks reflected like diamonds across the ceiling. The space was divided into areas of function: one corner housed a kitchenette outfitted with a sink, gas range, refrigerator, and café style table and chairs; the opposite side sported a seating area with overstuffed armchairs and coffee tables stacked high with glossy books. The center of the room was dominated by a rustic oak table. One end served as a desk, with writing implements and papers. The rest of the table was littered with tubes of paint, jars of gesso, and vases sprouting from their necks paint brushes of every size and shape. A large easel holding a half-covered canvas stood at the table’s edge.

Marla approached the table, while Samantha moved to the paintings hung on the walls. The subject of every one was a female child, though no two were portrayed with the same physical characteristics. She took a few deep breaths to slow her racing heartbeat. She was startled when Marla called her name.

Samantha joined Marla at the table. “Look what I found!” she said, handing Samantha a leather-bound journal. Samantha opened to the first page. In handwriting she now recognized as her mother’s, Samantha read aloud, “June 28th: Dear Baby, I can’t wait to meet you! I’m Donna, your mommy, and your daddy’s name is Seth. We found out today that you are on the way, coming into our lives, and we are so excited! I am going to write in this journal daily so when you read it some day, you’ll know exactly how you came into this world!”

Stunned, Samantha looked up with large, dewy eyes. “I don’t get it?” she whispered. She began scanning the pages covered with descriptions of doctor’s visits, sonograms and morning sickness.

Reading over her shoulder, Marla suggested, “Sam, skip ahead to your birthday.”

“Good idea.” She flipped through the months looking for March 10th, but following the February 17th entry the pages were blank. Shaking her head, Samantha turned questioning eyes on Marla. She thumbed the remaining pages and discovered more writing further into the book. Opening to where it recommenced, Samantha read, “December 5: I haven’t had the courage to write since the fire.”

Samantha gasped, her hand covering her mouth. Marla slipped an arm around her waist, sending waves of comfort up Samantha’s back. Samantha took a deep breath and read on. “I lost everything that night. Seth is gone. The baby is gone. And what’s left of me is hideous and repulsive. All that’s left for me is pain.”

Samantha stopped. Marla said softly, “Why don’t you take your time with this?”

Without a word, Samantha took the journal to an armchair and began to read in silence...

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

Thanks for reading!

~ If you haven't entered my 100+ Followers Contest, click HERE! ~

Contest!!!!

Exactly two months ago, on December 29, 2009, I nervously launched my blog. I had no idea how much I would love blogging...no idea how many amazing people I would meet...no idea how rewarding it would be to hear other creative writers talk about their crafts. Here I am, still the giddy novice, reveling in the joy that comes with realizing people are actually reading what I have to say each day, when in the midst of this blissful, whirlwind experience I realize I've almost arrived at THE first major blogging milestone. So, in the grand tradition of celebrating one hundred "Significant" followers, I'm hosting a Give-Away!

In a drawing on March 15th, a lucky winner will receive:

A signed copy of The Writer's Bump Anthology, Volume One, in which my first published short story appears! (*does the goofy Arsenio Hall "woh-woh-woh" fist thing*)

In addition, I'll include a Barnes and Noble gift card worth $25!

You have to follow my blog to be entered in the Give-Away. Here's what to do to maximize your chances to win:

Leave a comment telling me you stopped by = 1 pt.

Sign up as a New Follower = 1 pt.

Current Follower = 2 pts.

Blog about this contest = 1 pt.

Add a link to this post on your sidebar = 1 pt.

In your comment, tell me which you prefer, Milk Chocolate or Dark Chocolate :) = 2 pts.

Bonus: For every 25 new followers that sign up before the Give-Away on March 15th, I'll include another cool prize!

Thank you, Significant Followers, for welcoming me with open arms, for encouraging me to be more diligent writer, and for inspiring me with your creative talent!

Blogger Buddie Award!

Thank you, Kristin Rae for this sweet award! There are so many amazing blogs to read each day, and sometimes I have to pick and choose due to limited time and crazy schedules. But, I check out Kristin's religiously because she has such a fantastic voice and her personality shines through everything she writes. If you don't follow her yet, scoot over there and sign up today!


Usually these awards come with the task of revealing something about yourself, so in honor of a recent event in my life, here are five things about me/my past:



1. Thanks to Google and Blogger, a long-lost friend I haven't been in touch with for twenty years found me and dropped me an email. ~R~ is male and we were great friends -- platonic -- and hung out for two years in our early twenties. So glad to have ~R~ in my life again!!

2. I met ~R~ back in 1990, when we both worked in the Client Accounting department at what was then known as Chiat/Day/Mojo Advertising (today it's TBWA/Chiat/Day.) The agency, located in Venice Beach, CA, was perhaps best known for its Energizer Bunny campaign. While ~R~ and I worked there, we witnessed the building of, and move into, this crazy building by architect Frank Gehry:





Yes, the entryway is fashioned out of two gigantic binoculars. The right side of the building is made with copper that was shiny in the early years, but is now a wonderful greenish-brown patina.

3. The week before my first Christmas at Chiat/Day, a semi-truck showed up and delivered hundreds of large, identical, rectangular boxes. Turned out, agency owner Jay Chiat had purchased a beach cruiser bicycle for every employee, as a Christmas gift. At the time, the agency resided in an old drapery factory. The space was cavernous, with polished cement floors and exposed pipes across the ceilings. Workspaces were dictated by partitions and clusters of cubicles. That day, the guys in the mailroom assembled bike after bike, and for a week everyone opted to ride their cruiser inside the building, to the conference rooms, fax stations, or coffee room, in lieu of walking.

4. Since we were one block from the Pacific Ocean, I often had lunch on the beach. I used to see this guy all the time:





He always sang the same song to me. The lyrics began, "I wonder what a man would do on Mars?" He sang to people up and down The Strand all day, so he must have had other songs in his repertoire, but I never heard any others... He was there the day I got my nose pierced during my lunch hour, in a striped tent on the beach, before going back to work. Crazy times!

5. ~R~ and I used to take off on weekends and catch as many of the Grateful Dead's west coast tour as possible. When we didn't have camping reservations, which was often, we slept wherever we could. Once we woke up on the beach in Santa Cruz to the bark of noisy sea lions. Here's a pic of me one morning when we did have reservations:





~R~ and I lost track of each other after I moved east and later joined the Peace Corps. He went on to realize his dreams of being a copywriter. I'm so happy we've reconnected, and I've learned that he's doing great with his wife and two kids. I miss our crazy days, ~R~'s red VW Bug convertible, and sunny California days.

Thanks Kristin Rae, for the award that sparked this little California dreamin', and thanks to all of you for taking this mini-walk down memory lane with me!

I'm passing this award on to these awesome blogger peeps:

Lindsay Brooks @
Dangerous With a Pen

Dominique @ En Violet (Happy 1 YR Blog Anniversary!!)

Little Miss J

Eva @
Screaming Whispers

Kristin Torres @
Write in the Way

Have a fab weekend!

Show Me! Don't Tell Me.

I was watching last night’s American Idol on TiVo as I drank my first cup of coffee this morning. Cutie sixteen-year-old Aaron Kelly sang a Rascal Flatts song I’d never heard before. (I like country music all right, but I rarely pay much attention to it.) I didn’t catch the title when Ryan Seacrest introduced him, but as Aaron sang the opening verse, my writer’s ears perked up.

It begins, "I can hear the truck tires coming up the gravel road / And it’s not like her to drive so slow, (must be) nothing on the radio / Footsteps on the porch, I hear my doorbell / She usually comes right in…"

These lines demonstrate perfectly the power of Show, Don’t Tell descriptions. There was no doubt in my mind that something was wrong, that “she” was the bearer of bad news. The anticipation I felt and the strong mood those opening words created made the chorus that much more poignant: "Here comes goodbye / Here comes the last time / Here comes the start of every sleepless night / The first of every tear I’m gonna cry."

Showing descriptions pull your readers into the story. By asking your audience to pick up on the important clues sprinkled across each sentence, to connect the dots and reach the correct conclusions, you invite readers to participate in the story. Reader interaction can’t be underestimated. Your readers will become emotionally involved on a deeper level with the characters and plot, which boosts the overall entertainment factor of your work.

When do you concentrate the most on writing showing descriptions? Does it come naturally to you and appear in your first drafts/word vomitting sessions? Or do you comb through your scenes during the revision process and incorporate showing descriptions where you just "told" in the first draft? Or both?

In Suspension of (Dis)belief

I raised an eyebrow when I turned down the hallway at six a.m. this morning and spotted the light spilling out from underneath my daughter’s bedroom door. Usually, waking my kids for school is like rousing a couple cadavers, (corpses who, to my chagrin, effortlessly self-resurrect before sunrise on Saturday and Sunday mornings). Sidney had complained about a tummy ache yesterday, so I half-expected that a campaign to miss school was underway. When I pushed open her door though, I encountered a smiling little girl.

She stood in the middle of her room, her belly button peeking out beneath a too-short pajama top, and her long braided hair bent into a pair of boomerangs flanking her shoulders. In her hand she held her diary.

“You’re up early, sunshine,” I greeted her. “Is everything okay?”

Her eyes sparkled. “Mommy!” she began. “James-y woke me up.”

James was our sweet kitten who passed away from feline-leukemia a few weeks ago. As Sidney's declaration sunk into my pre-caffinated brain, a smile remained fixed on my lips but my eyebrows knitted a little closer together. “What?” I asked.

“James woke me up, but it was still dark. So I peeked out my window and you know what I saw?”

She didn’t wait for me to answer. Drawing in a deep breath that sent her belly button a little further into the room, she said, “Down by the tree, I saw three black cats! They were so cute, Mommy, and they came right up to my window.” She held up her diary. “I’m going to write about it!”

That’s my girl!





Our reality is dictated by our beliefs. Sidney believes James woke her up so she wouldn’t miss seeing those cats. Why not? (I hope it’s true!) One of the goals I embrace as a writer is drawing my readers into my brand of reality, suspending their disbelief. It comes down to the level of authenticity in the writing which can be achieved many ways: through the logical chain of events in the plot, believable dialogue, realistic characterizations, etc.

What’s your favorite device for creating authenticity in your writing, or for suspending your readers’ disbelief? Can you think of a time when you were the reader or viewer, that your disbelief wasn’t suspended? (Think Clark Kent hiding his Super Identity behind a pair of glasses!)

[Artwork at the top of this post by Joied6]