DO WE COMPLAIN TOO MUCH?

JUST WHAT IS COMPLAINING, ANYWAY?

 I call it "griping," because that's the word my mother used. "Celie Ann, stop your griping and make your bed. It's not going to make itself."

To be fair and also to defend myself, I most often complain when hunger strikes me. Maybe I have low blood sugar or something, but if I'm hungry, don't push me. All my friends know this."Uh-oh, feed her so she'll shut up."

As a general rule, I'm not a complainer...much. Most of the time I do it out of boredom or to make conversation or some other inane reason.

IS COMPLAINING A CREATIVE ACT?

 I learned that complaining, though, is not all bad. It can actually be a Creative Act. The more you complain, the more you summon your creative energies to attract something to complain about.  Maybe the complaints seem fully justified, but realize that whenever you complain, you set yourself up  for more of the same. Just remember the part about  "complaining is a creative act", and you might find yourself writing a novel. Hmmm.

 Complaining is the act of reinforcing what you don’t want. Is this bad? I think not. Perhaps it's therapeutic.

 IS COMPLAINING ADDICTIVE?

 A warning: Complaining is also addictive. The more you do it, the more it becomes an ingrained habit, making it more difficult to stop.

Some people complain too much about their own lives. This is a trap that gives this person a constant source of something to complain about.  "Bad luck follows me; Life is too difficult; Why can't I get a break?"  The complainer may tell you their reality is causing their complaints, but it’s more accurate to say their reality is reflecting their complaints.

"If you have time to whine and complain about something then you have the time to do something about it."  ~Anthony J. D'Angelo, The College Blue Book

DO I COMPLAIN?

 Yes, but after analyzing myself, I believe I complain about trivial events that really have nothing to do with me. When I fully realized this, I honestly trid to keep my mouth closed and push the ugly thoughts away.

We have a neighbor who refuses to mow his property, so that the tall dead grass is a permanent fixture. I  say something about that every time we pass the house. It has nothing to do with my life, it just annoys me. So, why do I persist in complaining about it? The time has come for me to ignore it.

Bad parkers really make me complain. You who know me understand I sort of go ballistic over a vehicle parked diagonally in a straight-in space, a driver in front of me who sits at a green light because he/she is on the phone or texting, or someone who throws litter out a car window. I really don't think I can stop complaining about these....sorry.

Do your characters complain?

Do you dislike characters in a novel who complain?

Hmm, I don't know. I suppose it depends on what the person is complaining about.

I try very hard not to be a chronic complainer...but sometimes..I must or I'll throw a fit.

Celia Yeary-Romance...and a little bit 'o Texas

Amazon: https://www.amazon.com/author/celiayeary

 My Website

My Blog

Sweethearts of the West-Blog

My Facebook Page 

A Christmas Scene in WISH FOR THE MOON

  WISH FOR THE MOON-a 1901 North Texas coming of age story about sixteen year old Annie McGinnis.
Excerpt--Christmas

The year was 1902, and Annie McGinnis, the youngest child of the family, now at seventeen finds herself the lady of the house--the home she grew up in. The position is not one she wants, but Annie has a very strong sense of duty and responsibility, and in this case...taking care not only of the household chores, but seeing after her widowed father, Grover, and Old Blind Jarrel, a neighbor man they took in. Her brothers, Kyle and Clifford have married and moved away.

Max Landry, the man Annie fell in love with after saving him from the hangman's noose, has moved on, too...or so she thinks.

Christmas time nears, and Annie goes to town to sell her pecans, eggs, and jars of jelly. She hopes to earn enough money to buy a gift for her father and Jerral. She also hopes she has enough to buy a bar a lavender soap for herself.

She finds a tiny cedar tree and uses it for a Christmas tree. She places it on the end of the kitchen table, decorated with strings of juniper berries and bows made of bits of colored cloth and old lace. On each side, she places a candle.
~*~*~*~
WISH FOR THE MOON--99cents for the Kindle--(regular price $5.49)-Through December 31

EXCERPT:

On Christmas Day, Annie placed her offerings in front of the tree. She sat two candles, one on either side, and lit them.

“Jerral,” she said, “give me your hand, and you can see the tree.” She helped guide his hand, so he could feel each part, and the gifts underneath. Carefully, she guided his hand to feel the candlesticks, and waved his hand over the flames so he would know they burned.

After breakfast, Annie told Grover to stay at the table so he and Jerral could open their presents. Grover, though, took Jerral to the bedroom first, and when they returned, each held a gift, wrapped in white paper with red string.
Jerral loved his suspenders, and exclaimed over them, how he liked the thick, woven texture, and the feel of the smooth metal clasps. She helped fasten them to his pants and adjusted them to the right length on his bony shoulders. “Oh, you look so fine, Jerral. These were just made for you.”

He asked if he could kiss Annie’s cheek, and she happily let him.

Grover said little about his new blue-striped shirt, but he held it in his lap and stroked the soft fabric for a long time.

Finally, he told her the other two gifts were for her—one from him and one from Jerral. Jerral gave her the only thing he had—his family Bible.

Jerral said, “I can’t read it, Annie, and I don’t have any kin. You’re as close to a daughter as I’ll ever have. I want you to have it.”

Annie cried and hugged him around his neck and kissed his cheek. “Oh, thank you, Jerral. I’ll treasure it and add it to my bookshelf where I have the other books. And guess what? I’ve baked you a vanilla-raisin meringue cream pie!”

Grover gave her a small box of chocolates from the drugstore. They were in a gold colored box with a fancy seal on the top. The label read, “Golden’s Chocolates, Made in Chicago.” Each one had a different center—vanilla fondue, strawberry and lemon creams, nuts, coconut, and caramel. Tears ran down her face. Never in her life had she received such a grand present.

“Thank you so much, Papa. I will savor each one, and the box will look so pretty on my dresser. If I ever get a necklace, I’ll keep it in the gold box.”

“Annie,” he said gruffly. “I’m sorry I missed your birthday. I just plumb forgot. Helen would have my hide if she knew I didn’t remember our baby’s birthday.”

Annie laughed and cried some more, and soon, all three choked up.

Christmas had come, after all.
~*~*~*~
Blurb:

At the dawn of the Twentieth Century, sixteen-year-old Annie McGinnis wishes for a chance to see more of the world, since all she’s ever known is the family farm in North Texas. A mysterious visitor arrives who will change not only her life, but her family’s as well. To save Max Landry from a bogus charge, she follows him and the Texas Rangers back to the coal-mining town one county over where a murder occurred. The short journey sets Annie on a path of discovery—new horizons, an inner strength, and quite possibly…love.   

Buy Link on Amazon for Kindle:
http://www.amazon.com/Wish-Moon-Celia-Yeary/dp/1466452382/ref=sr_1_8?s=books&ie=UTF8&qid=1324864096&sr=1-8  

Celia Yeary

Romance...and a little bit of Texas

    

 

More Creativity or More Marketing?

Suppose I ask a friend, "Which would help me sell more books? Learn how to be more creative with my writing? Or learn better marketing skills?"

The two go hand-in-hand. One without the other is nothing, a big zero, a failure.
However, I think most writers are better at one than the other.

Take Example #1: Jane Author. Jane is a writing machine. She can turn out stories without even trying. She's highly creative, always taking notes, observing, thinking about scenes in her recent WIP, or a plot for an entirely new story. Her products are very good, if not superior to many writers. But her marketing skills are weak, and she doesn't know exactly how to improve them.

Example #2: Mary Market. Mary knows all about marketing. She's even written a book that teaches others how to market themselves as well as she does. But she's a slow writer, and often has more than one manuscript unfinished. Her one book sells very well, because she knows how. But selling one book will not help the bank account.
Both writers will soon suffer burn-out.

The question is: How do I strike a balance between the two?

Personally, I am better at writing than marketing. Writing requires a good imagination, above average command of the English language, and knowledge about writing fiction. All these still require continued learning, for none of us ever know everything. At least, I'm comfortable writing, and so far I have not suffered burn-out.

Marketing, though, is still a bit elusive--and boring. At the moment, I do as much as I know how, and that's not much. Many other venues exist that I have not mastered.
Question: How important is the fact we should market ourselves....instead of the book? Does this make sense? I've read articles that suggest marketing ourselves goes a long way in selling our product.

Maybe our individual personality helps sell--or not. Personally, I'm drawn to authors who are positive and fun and friendly. That doesn't mean I haven't read books by authors I know I wouldn't like in person--it only means it's not the norm for me.

I study commercials for car and trucks on TV. Most are rather obnoxious, in my opinion. However, one of the most obnoxious ones sells the brand of truck we just bought. But the dealer we bought from was here in town, and not one person in there was obnoxious. In fact, they go out of their way to be kind and courteous and happy. Also, they serve breakfast--really! Four kinds of coffee, fresh, glazed donuts, and sausage rolls. In the afternoon, they switch to big bakery cookies with white chocolate, packages of cheese crackers, soft drinks, and popcorn.
The dealer on TV is in Austin, and I would not go there simply because of the man and woman in the commercial. Completely outrageous and loud.

This is a case of personality. If we hadn't been very happy with the dealer and the particular salesman, we would have gone elsewhere.
I think anyone would have.
And this applies to selling anything--our books and/or us.

It pays to be nice.
Celia Yeary
Romance...and a little bit of Texas

WHEN ORGANIZATIONAL SKILLS GO OUT THE WINDOW

Please don't tell me I'm the only one who does this--forget the color of my hero's eyes or the color of my heroine's hair. Any number of details in a novel can be skewed or mixed up or completely changed during the writing.

I should know better by now. After nine novels and numerous novellas, I still work my way into the same quandary.

When I taught high school students, I was always ready and organized. In fact, over the years, I earned the nickname of  "Miss Organization" as if it were tattooed across my forehead, along with "Teacher."

Now? I don't know what happened to me once I left teaching and later began writing stories. Why can I not use those same skills of organization with writing?

My friend Cheryl Pierson teaches a writing class in Oklahoma, and she shared handouts with me. This was a very generous act, and I do read through them on occasion. However, if I took her class now, she'd give me a failing grade because of my slap-hazard writing.

But I cannot break the pattern.

One handout was Characterization Traits. This is one of the most important, and if I had any sense, I'd sit down and write out my hero's physical traits first.
It's not complicated.

Hair-Black
Eyes-Brown
Height-6 ft. (Aren't all heroes tall? They don't have to be.)
Build--broad shoulders and narrow hips. (Aren't all heroes...never mind.)

Added to these traits are:
Color of his horse--was it a red roan or a black stallion?
Age--is he twenty-five or thirty?

Some time ago, I read how an author tackled this problem. All her heroes were just alike, and all her heroines were, too--according to color of hair and eyes, especially. I recall her writing, "All my heroes have brown eyes, and all my heroines have blue eyes."

There you go! Problem solved!

Except that doesn't always work. A character has a way of presenting himself/herself exactly as he/she is. Sometimes we just don't have control over this. When the character appears, he's fully fleshed out and who am I to change the color of his eyes?

As of this moment, TEXAS DREAMER is 3/4 complete. And as of this moment I have no idea what color are his eyes or his hair. No, wait, his hair is black because he is a descendent of The Camerons of Texas. They're all dark-haired. Eyes. Nope, can't remember.

I'll need a half day to sit down with all my scribbled notes that are in a spiral, on note cards, and on sticky notes to determine the physical characteristics of my characters. Then, I'll need to do a Find and Highlight in order to correct all my errors.

I swear, this is the last time I do this. From now on--Organize is my middle name.
 

 

SCENE STEALERS--Those Rascals!

In my first novel, All My Hopes and Dreams (published in 2007 and still available), I wrote a secondary character named Starr Hidalgo. Starr's family owned the ranch next to the Romero family ranch, run by Ricardo Romero, the son and hero of my novel. Ricardo impulsively married a girl from East Texas named Cynthia Harrington, and since she was not from Spanish descent, she did not fit in.
But Starr did, and she did everything she could to break up Ricardo's marriage. She set her sights on him, and joined forces with Ricardo's mother to devise all kinds of ways to run off Cynthia.

Readers told me Starr Hidalgo would have been a better choice for Ricardo, and perhaps so. But Starr  was a walk-on, someone I used to stir up trouble. How did I write Cynthia, so, that in the end, she would equal Starr's passion and pure grit? It wasn't easy, but Cynthia learned many lessons, and yes, she did stand up to Starr, her evil mother-in-law, and even her husband.

But Starr almost stole the show.

Writing a good secondary character can be tricky. You don't want her/him to steal the scene--or ruin an entire story.

 

One of my favorite movies of all time is Red River, starring John Wayne as a cattle rancher, and Montgomery Clift as his adult adopted son. The story is about the first cattle drive from Texas to Kansas on the Chisholm Trail. During the drive, John Wayne, the star of the movie and story, decides on one direction, but his adopted son disputes that decision, telling John Wayne there is a better way. They bitterly argue, and Montgomery Clift wins, taking the men and cattle with him.

What is strange about this scene, is that the adopted son becomes the hero of the movie, and John Wayne is forced to leave. The drive is successful, but the adopted son and father meet up once again in a bitter argument and fight.

I have never understood why the writer of the story allowed the son to be the hero, forcing his father--John Wayne--to step aside. In my opinion, this is a case of Scene Stealing. The secondary character became the hero.

In Gone With the Wind, Prissy steals the scene when Scarlet yells at her to help with the birthing of a baby. Prissy whines, wrings her hands, and cries, "But I don' know nothin' 'bout birthin' no babies!" Who could forget that great scene, and Prissy completely stole it from Scarlet.

Many actresses and actors have become known because of stealing a scene from the lead.

I Googled "Scene Stealers" and found a large number of examples. It's fun to read who and how the person stole the scene.

Last night, I watched Splendor in the Grass for about the sixth time. Each time I've watched it, I noticed scenes I didn't remember before. The movie is actually kind of messy, in that too much happened in some of the scenes--too many characters, too much yelling and incessant talking, and the same characters whining. I also noticed more violence than I ever had before.

However, the fact is that no one, not one character in any scene stole it from Natalie Wood. She almost stood out with a glow around her. In the midst of some huge rumbling scene, those big
brown eyes and her unique presence always came through. She might as well have been carrying a big sign that read, "I am the star and don't you forget it."

She was very special, in my opinion.
No one could steal her scene.

In my current Work in Progress, TEXAS DREAMER, I wrote in a character named Conrad Taylor. Oh, wow, I wrote him so well he stole the show and the heroine for a few pages. I knew this could not happen, so I quickly took him off the page by sending him back to his own job. No one talked about or thought about Conrad. But later in the novel, he does reappear--is he really the villain? Or will he turn out to be a good guy, perhaps a hero of his own?

Will he be a scene stealer after all?
I really hope not. But now that I've written a very good character, probably he'll have his own story someday.

Scene Stealers. Do you remember one in a movie? There were actually quite a few.
Do you remember writing one in a novel?
Is a Scene Stealer memorable?

 

How Do Authors Begin a Story?

BANNER CREATED by LK HUNSAKER

I'm often asked, "How do you think up all these stories?" And most often, I don't have a good answer. Usually, I respond by saying, "I don't know--they just come to me in some way and I start writing."
The person asking, as a general rule, accepts that and moves along. Readers don't really want to hear a long explanation--I'm fairly certain of that. But I should have a good concise answer.

Most readers believe authors have some mechanism inside their brains that turn on the writing gene. Maybe we do, and even though most people believe they could never do that, I bet they could! After all, if I can write novels, so can almost anyone.

To help with the question, I asked a few friends, "How do you begin a novel?" They gave me some wonderful answers. See for yourself.

Maggie Toussaint (Death, Island Style, a Cozy Mystery--Available now)
I begin a novel with an idea. Sometimes a picture or a situation jogs the idea, but the idea won’t let me be until I get it fleshed out. Then I make sure the characters inhabiting that idea are at cross-purposes and have the most to lose by someone else attaining their goal. My goal as an author is to marry plot to character from the start of the novel and carry that uneasy alliance through the story to a satisfying conclusion.

LK Hunsaker (Rehearsal: Of Chaotic Currents, due Dec. 2012, Literary Romance With An Artsy Twist)
My novels always begin with a particular situation, personal or social, and then a character builds around that situation as he or she tries to figure out how to handle it. It rolls around in my head a while as the character starts to breathe, then I open a new file and start writing. Research is done as I need it.

Barbara Edwards (Ancient Awakening, Intense Romance With an Edge-Available now)
My books always start from a vivid dream. I wake up with an important scene playing in my head, usually the  beginning and I know the ending, too. Takes me time to fill in the middle. The best part is I have seen the most important person either hero or heroine, sometimes both.

Cheryl Pierson (Temptation's Touch, Romantic Suspense-Available now)
Every story I've ever written comes from one key scene that I want to write. It can be in the middle, toward the end, or close to the beginning. I don't usually outline until I'm well on my way into the story, and even then it's a "timeline" rather than an outline of the plot points. If I can start with one scene, I can write forward or backward from it. Another thing that helps is having an idea as to what time of year it is going to be set in.

Stephanie Burkhart (A Gentleman and a Rogue, A Steampunk Romance, release date Nov. 11)
I outline a rough plot, knowing there's room for change. I then cast the characters and make character bios. Then I research the setting. Lastly, I plot out the opening, trying to make it "action" orientated with the hero/heroine involved.

Now, I have a better idea of how stories come to me. My stories always begin with a character, either a man or a woman. The person is in some sort of scene--

A man walking along a dusty road--Why is he walking on a road? What catches his attention? How is he dressed? Why is he dressed that way?

A young woman waits for the train to arrive--Who is she waiting for? Is she anxious or happy? How is she dressed? Where is the location of the train depot? 

 A well dressed young woman running away in a horse and buggy--Why is she dressed up to run away? Whose buggy is it? Who is she running from? What did this person do to make her run away?

 Now, I get it. It's clearer now how I begin a story. Always with a character--never the scenery or the weather or any other explanation.

 As varied as these answers are, I suspect each writer has her/his own way of beginning a story.

If you are a writer, how do you begin a story?

Celia Yeary-Romance...and a little bit 'o Texas
Amazon: https://www.amazon.com/author/celiayeary
My Website
My Blog
Sweethearts of the West-Blog
My Facebook Page 

CLEAN WRITING--and I don't mean "Sweet"

 

 

Writing science research papers taught me the process of clean writing—manuscripts free of too many useless words. "Just the facts, ma'am." As a result, my first fiction manuscript was a failure. The editor told me my writing sounded like a textbook. That sort of hurt, but the statement opened a floodgate of words that's still gushing. I could use adjectives! And adverbs! And descriptions! But also…too many useless words and phrases.  

Still, I absolutely love to embellish sentences with adjectives, adverbs, and well…a long list of writing errors. If I remove the useless words in the previous sentence, I think it reads like a textbook. Where is that fine line?

AVOID USELESS WORDS: My favorite topic. We consider good writing concise, vigorous, and active. A sentence should contain no unnecessary words, as a machine should contain no extra parts. Fine idea. But an automobile is a machine. The first cars were little more than a buggy with an engine attached. They were unattractive and uncomfortable. The automobiles today contain endless useless parts, but we buy them because of those extra appealing parts.  

I do agree, though, certain useless words or phrases need to go.
1.  "there is no doubt but that" should be "no doubt" or "doubtless"
2.  "this is a subject that" should be "this subject"
3.  "the reason why is that" should be "because"
4.  "owing to the fact that" should be "since" or "because"
5.  "he is a man who" should be "he"

AVOID USE OF QUALIFIERS: A qualifier is a word or a word group that limits the meaning of another word or word group. The worst offenders are rather, very, little, and pretty.

"I should do pretty well on the exam, for I am a rather brilliant student, but if I make very many mistakes, I'll try to do a little better."

AVOID LOOSE SENTENCES: A loose sentence is one consisting of two clauses, the second introduced by a conjunction or relative. Too many loose sentences in one paragraph will sound mechanical and singsong. The compound sentence is the framework of writing, when used wisely and sparingly.

Read the next paragraph very fast:

"The last concert of the season was given last night, and the hall was filled to capacity. Jane Doe was the soloist, and John Smith accompanied her on the piano. She proved to be quite capable, while he performed admirably. The concert series has been successful, and the committee was gratified. The committee will plan for next year's programs, and they will offer an equally attractive program."

Did you hear the sing-song effect? Blech!

Today's subject appeared because of the editing processes I've undergone. A kind editor—in so many words--told me: You begin too many sentences with well, now, so, or why. In some cases, these words are acceptable, especially when included in dialogue. Southern people talk this way, but in narration, use sparingly.

This made sense to me, because when I talk with a friend—on-line or face to face—those little words pop up all the time.

"What did she say when you said her hair was orange?"

"Well, first she stared. Then her eyes sort of bugged out, and before I knew it, why, she started bawling."

"Oh, my goodness. Now, here's what you should have said, darlin'. You just do not want to make her any madder."

"So, what should I have said?"

And so, well, I need to bring this post to a halt. I need to make a little lunch, because the fact is that my husband is mowing this morning, and he'll be starving. There's no doubt, though, that he won't say an unkind word to me if lunch if just a little late.
(if you can edit this paragraph correctly, you will receive an A+)

RECENT RELEASE-AMAZON:
LONE STAR DREAMING-A WESTERN ROMANCE COLLECTION

RECENT TOP 100 DIME NOVEL-AMAZON:
KAT AND THE U.S. MARSHAL


Celia Yeary-Romance...and a little bit 'o Texas
Amazon: https://www.amazon.com/author/celiayeary
My Website
My Blog
Sweethearts of the West-Blog
My Facebook Page 

Write Something Every Day? But What?



A FEW SCRIBBLED THOUGHTS THAT TURNED INTO NOVELS
Crystal Lake Reunion-The Stars at Night-Wish for the Moon-Heart of a Hero

If you are an author, I believe you understand the urge to write something. Anything. This is the best advice I hear repeatedly about "finding time to write." Just write. However, even this advice doesn't always work for me, but when it does I invariably begin a new story. If I could complete each one, I'd have files filled with new novels or novellas.

If I don't have my computer nearby or even a scrap of paper, then I "write" in my head. Do you do this? No doubt, you do. My head is filled with brilliant ideas for incredibly intriguing Best Sellers.

I wish.

 

Years ago, as we drove along a very long stretch of West Texas highway on our way home from a school reunion, the monotony of the scenery and the hum of the engine almost put me to sleep. Instead, I thought about the school reunion I'd just attended and wanted to write about it. Of course, it began in my head, and after ten minutes or so, I had to get this on paper so I wouldn't forget it. I searched my purse and every nook and cranny in the vehicle for a notepad and pen or pencil. There was nothing! Not one thing. I opened the car pocket and voila! I found a blue paper towel, the kind you use at service stations to clean the windshield. Since it was thick and tough, I could write on it...but no pen. There had to be something. My husband said he had a short pencil--the kind we use on the golf course for a scorecard--in his shaving kit. He stopped and found it for me. This taught me a lesson--never leave home without a pen and notepad.

Here are examples of two story beginnings in my files:

~*~*~

The Pro

        Julie clutched her printout ticket and stood in the long snaking line as patiently as she could. Whatever happened to the adventure of flying? Everything turned into a hassle—no water bottles, liquids in 3 ounce bottles, and no more than four. Or was it three? She could never remember, so if the airline personnel decided it was too much, so be it. Discount stores were on every corner of the planet.
        She could barely believe she’d snagged a seat in First-Class. She, Julie Newcastle, erstwhile lawn-mower repairman, sometimes pizza deliverer, and laid-off wedding planner assistant to the assistant had taken the offer to give up her seat in coach for the reward of sitting in First-Class on the next flight.
        Another time, when she boarded an over-booked flight, she took the deal, two hundred dollars in cash. That was a real boon, enough money to pay her phone bill and stock up on groceries. This time, though, she guessed the airlines were hurting for cash just like the passengers and the rest of the country.
        As she neared the security station, she hoisted her carry-on bag to her other shoulder, and reached down to remove her slip-on sandals. Walking barefoot to the conveyor belt, she was dropping the bag onto the moving carrier when someone bumped her from behind. One shoe and her shoulder bag dropped to the floor.
       “Ohh,” she muttered. In the process of stooping to pick up the two items, people behind her began to grumble.
       Looking over her shoulder, she said, “Okay, okay, hold your horses. I’m doing the best I can.”
       The griping didn’t lessen, but someone with a deep voice said, “Let’s give the lady a chance here, what do you say, folks?”
        She looked at the man in front of her. So far, she’d only seen his back, but now she saw his blinding, white smile from a pleasing, tanned face. Everyone hushed and muttered “sorry”, or “sure, thing.”
       Julie wondered who he was to command such attention.

~*~*~

The Kings of Texas

      Early Twentieth Century
      He looked up at the huge sign splashed across the top of a multi-story brick building in downtown Houston. King Oil Company. Looks like big brother did it right.
      With no hesitation, he walked through the enormous glass double doors in the foyer of the building. On the wall to the right was a sign behind glass listing the names of the offices, floor, and number.
       It seemed his big brother occupied the entire top floor. Unimpressed, he punched the button for the electric elevator. The door slid open and he stepped in.
       "Floor, sir?" The operator stood to the side as if at attention.
       Lee grinned at the man in the red uniform trimmed in gold braid and the round hat that topped his head.
      "Top."
      "Mr. King's offices?"
      "That right."
      "Very good, sir. Now, if you will just step to the rear, we'll be off."
      Since Lee had never been in an elevator, he held his breath while the car moved, leaving his stomach behind. The weightless feeling almost made him gasp. Now, that's impressive.
      Directly in front of him when he stepped off, loomed the main office. Polished mahogany lined the walls, and crystal wall sconces burned softly, illuminating the hall.
      Pausing, he lifted his right leg and brushed the dust off the toe of his boot. He repeated the process with the other boot. Tugging his well-worn hat down, he pushed the door open and stepped in to luxurious surroundings, fit maybe for a king. The thought caused him to chuckle.
     "I need to see Dalton King," he announced to the receptionist behind the curved counter.
     "Your name, sir?"
     "Lee King."

~*~

Oh, yes, I have a dozen more. One day, I'll select one and give it everything I have.

When I find time to write.

 

~*~*~

Note: the banner containing book covers at the top of the post is a creation by LK Hunsaker. Contact her here:   http://www.lkhunsaker.com/