Finally, Liberation via Pen, my short women's fiction, is available from Wild Child Publishing!
Here's the story excerpt:
They talked about their aspirations as the steam evaporated from their cups. Krista confessed her literary insecurities while admiring the black flecks within his grey irises; eyes that invited close inspection. His lips likewise taunted her, whether involuntarily or not. She couldn’t tell if he intended to tease, or if he was just being nice. She hoped the former. Nice guys tended to bore her.
Todd set his gaze on her. “Follow the age-old creed–write what you know.”
Krista took the advice to heart, literally: what she’d known for the past two years was Ethan. She’d let him infiltrate her life, her apartment, her thoughts, herself. Thinking his invasion was laying the groundwork for a future, she’d dated him exclusively, rearranged her life to accommodate his likes and dislikes until she could no longer remember her own.
She wrote to rediscover herself, divine her innermost thoughts and feelings. From their seemingly serendipitous meeting to their breakup, Krista chronicled and dissected their relationship, building to the crescendo of their eventual fall.
She copied the first five pages for the critique group the following month. The chick lit writer said: “Your dialogue’s too stiff; make it sound more realistic.” “Make your prose more lyrical, but get rid of the adjectives and adverbs,” offered the poet. The mystery writer advised: “Foreshadow your events to build suspense.”
Krista nodded, noting each writer’s advice for her revision. She spent the next two weeks pouring over each sentence, mercilessly slashing words, constructing setting and scene, the cadence of her prose flowing lyrically. Like music, the words streamed luxurious legatos punctuated with sharp staccatos as demanded by the scene. They lifted her spirit, excited her neurons in a way that made her hunger for more. The high of writing a well-structured sentence was addictive.
As a bonus, certain aspects of her former relationship came clear. Ethan lived on the cutting edge of pop culture, always had to have the latest gadget, widget or gizmo. He was exceptionally good with technology. With people, not so much. Had she possessed the foresight to commit his faults to paper earlier, Krista might have been spared much heartache. The exercise allowed her to see, finally, that Ethan was an ass. By setting her emotions into words, she not only defined them, but her writing informed her self-definition.
And here again is the trailer:
Cate Masters’ novellas, short stories and flash fiction appear at various web zines and press sites. Visit her online at www.catemasters.com or catemasters.blogspot.com