Wilson Coffee Shop (Part 5)

Jeremiah smiled as he took a giant bite of French toast. He took a swig of orange juice and smiled at Linda as she sat down across from him in her purple robe, taking the rubber band off of the newspaper.

“Linda, I think this breakfast is just what the doctor ordered.” said Jeremiah as he took another bite of French toast and patted his stomach.

Linda gasped. She held the newspaper up close to her face, and her eyes moved rapidly across the front page.

“What is it?”

“Jeremy…” she said as she handed the newspaper to her husband.

Jeremiah picked up the newspaper and felt the French toast come back up his throat.

Tragedy Strikes Davenport North High School

15-year-old Kylie Schwartz, a freshman at Davenport North High School, was pronounced dead last night after police responded to a call from Schwartz’s mother. Eileen Schwartz called her daughter to supper at around six-thirty, but her daughter did not respond. Mrs. Schwartz went upstairs and found her daughter in bed, surrounded by empty bottles of prescription medication.

Jeremiah set the newspaper down. He stood up and walked over to the sink, placing his hands on the counter. Linda walked up to her husband and wrapped her arms around him. Jeremiah turned around and squeezed her as tightly as he could, burying his face in her hair.

“You know what, Linda?” he said quietly, pulling her away and cupping her face in his hands. “I think it’s about time we opened up that coffee shop.” 

Wilson Coffee Shop (Part 4)

On Kylie’s tenth day at North High School, Mr. Wilson showed the class a video about bullying during homeroom. During the video, Kylie unzipped her sequined pencil pouch and emptied the contents onto her desk. One black pen, two red pens, one green pen, four mechanical pencils, and two regular pencils. She looked around the classroom. Four boys and four girls, not including herself. She looked up at the clock on the wall. 7:59. Looking back down at her desk, Kylie thought about how she wanted to arrange her pens and pencils. She decided to line the pens up green, red black, red and green on the right-hand side of her desk. On the left-hand side, she placed the two regular pencils outside of the four mechanical pencils. After she had arranged her pens and pencils, Kylie looked up at the back of Megan’s head and smiled.

~

Linda set down a plate of chicken, brown rice, and asparagus in front of Jeremiah and kissed his forehead before sitting down across from him.

“How was your day?” she asked as she unfolded her napkin and placed it on her lap.

Jeremiah shook his head as he picked up his fork.

“These kids, I just don’t understand them.” he said as he pushed around individual grains of rice. “There is a girl in my homeroom and math class who is late almost every day, and sometimes she doesn’t even show up at all.”

“Have you sent her to Principal Ferguson?”

“Yes, once.” said Jeremiah as he put down his fork to rub his temples. “I should send her again, but I honestly don’t want to, because my class is, well…less stressful without her anyway.”

Linda looked at Jeremiah as he rubbed his temples and ignored his food.

“Do you need some medicine?”

Jeremiah shook his head and stood up.

“No, no…I’ll be fine.” he said as he walked out of the kitchen towards the bedroom. “I think I just need some rest.”

~

Mrs. Schwartz felt her phone buzzing in her purse as she drove to Hy-Vee to pick up groceries for the week. It had been two months since her meeting with Principal Cross. Keeping her eyes on the road, she dug through her purse. She glanced at the screen of her phone, reading the caller ID.

Davenport Central High School

She silenced the call and set the phone back in her purse.

~

In homeroom on Kylie’s thirtieth day at North High School, she pulled a blue spiral notebook out of her backpack after she had arranged her pens and pencils. She flipped through dozens of full pages until she got to a blank one. Picking up her black pen, she smiled.

Megan Turner is the most beautiful girl I have ever met.

~

On Kylie’s seventieth day at North High School, a boy tripped her outside after school. A group of students gathered around, including Megan. They laughed as Kylie scrambled for her things. The boy picked up her sequined pencil pouch, unzipped it, and dumped the contents into a nearby storm drain.

“Arrange them now!” he said.

Megan grabbed the blue spiral notebook that Kylie was reaching for.  

“Oooh, is this your diary?” said Megan. The group laughed. Megan flipped open the notebook and did her best impression of Mr. Wilson clearing his throat while holding up his white binder.

“Alright, class!” she said in a deep voice as the group snickered. “Today, we will be reading Kylie Schwartz’s diary!” Megan cleared her throat again in a convincing impression and the students held their sides as they laughed.

“Page one!”

Kylie stayed on the ground. While on her knees, she watched Megan’s beautiful brown eyes widen. She saw the specks of yellow glowing like tiny fires. A gust of wind blew her black velvet hair wildly. It lapped against her pale neck like rushing water against white rocks. Kylie closed her eyes and inhaled the sweet scent of her shampoo. She opened her eyes and saw the brown eyes looking directly into her own. The normally pale pink cheeks were hot pink, and her soft lips were slightly open and trembling. The sun came out from behind a cloud and illuminated Megan, giving her a warm, bright outline and causing her skin to shimmer. The sight was blinding, terrifying, and beautiful all at the same time, and Kylie couldn’t look away.

“What is it, Megan?” a boy said.

“Yeah, Megan! Aren’t you going to read it?”

Megan looked at Kylie, to the notebook, and back at Kylie, who was still kneeling before her.

“What the fuck is your problem, you freak?” yelled Megan, throwing the blue spiral notebook on the ground in front of Kylie.  

“Megan, what’s wrong?” said one of the girls, rushing to her side.

“This girl is fucking crazy.” said Megan.

Kylie picked up the blue spiral notebook and clutched it tightly to her chest. She stayed on her knees and kept her eyes on the ground.

“Let’s get out of here.” said Megan. 

Wilson Coffee Shop (Part 3)

“Thank you for seeing me, Mrs. Schwartz.”

"Of course, Principal Cross. I came as soon as I got your voice mail." 

“Please,” said Principal Cross, motioning towards the leather seat across from his desk. “make yourself comfortable.”

“Is Kylie ok?” said Mrs. Schwartz as she sat down, clutching her Marc Jacobs purse close to her body.

Principal Cross adjusted himself and his seat and folded his hands across his desk.

“Yes, she is fine. But to be quite honest, I am very concerned about her.”

“What is it?”

Opening a drawer in his desk, Principal Cross pulled out a red spiral notebook. He handed it to Mrs. Schwartz.

Mrs. Schwartz inhaled quickly and held her breath as she opened the notebook. In harsh, tiny handwriting, the name “Michael Parker” was written at least a thousand times. She flipped through the notebook. Every page was the same.

“I don’t understand.” she said, setting the notebook down on the desk and clutching her purse as if it were a teddy bear.

“This notebook was given to me by one of Kylie’s teachers. I brought it to our counselor. She believes that Kylie could be suffering from an obsessive personality disorder.”

“How…how did this happen? I…” Mrs. Schwartz looked down at the notebook. “I’ve never seen Kylie do anything like this before.”

“Well, I did speak with our counselor a little about this…condition…that she believes Kylie could have.” said Principal Cross carefully. “Have you ever noticed any fixations that Kylie has had in the past? Possibly to a band, a celebrity, or even to a stuffed animal?”

Mrs. Schwartz lowered her head and closed her eyes.

“Yes.” she said quietly. “For months, she would only talk about this band, Fall Out Boy. That was the only thing she wanted to talk about. She only listened to their songs, had only posters of them in her room…I…” Mrs. Schwartz stopped. “I thought it was just a phase. That’s normal for teenagers, isn’t it?”

“Of course, but to an extent.” said Principal Cross. “Did it interfere with her grades, her social life?”

Mrs. Schwartz played with the clasp of her purse. “It was like pulling teeth trying to get her to do her homework.” she said. “And…well…Kylie has never had much of a social life.”

Principal Cross bowed his head and was silent. After a moment, he looked back up and pulled his seat closer to his desk.

“You said this went on for months, when and how did it stop?”

Mrs. Schwartz looked past Principal Cross as she remembered.

“It was all of a sudden. One day, the posters were up, the next day, they were all torn down and the CD’s were in the trash.” she said slowly. “A few days later, I went into her room and saw posters for a different band.”

“Have you ever noticed her…fixating…over a person like she has over these bands?” asked Principal Cross.

“No, never.”

Principal Cross frowned. “Have there been any extreme circumstances that may have triggered this… habit… of hers to advance?”

Mrs. Schwartz put her hand up to her forehead and sighed.

“Her father and I divorced about a year ago.”

Closing his eyes, Principal Cross nodded his head.

“Mrs. Schwartz, I am going to cut to the chase. After speaking with the counselor, I believe it is in Kylie’s best interest to start seeing a psychiatrist.”

Mrs. Schwartz clutched her purse and blinked furiously, fighting off tears.  

“Mrs. Schwartz?”

“Kylie is a normal girl. She’s just going through a rough patch is all.”

“Mrs. Schwartz, I understand the...well…social stigma that is associated with mental disorders, but I think it is obvious that your daughter needs professional help.”

Mrs. Schwartz stood up from the leather chair and swung her purse over her shoulder.

“Thank you for bringing this to my attention.” she said, holding out her hand but avoiding eye contact.

Principal Cross hesitated for a moment, sighed, stood up, and shook hands with Mrs. Schwartz.

“Please, let me know if there is anything I can do to help.”

“Thank you.” whispered Mrs. Schwartz as she turned around and walked out of the office.

~

After her meeting with Principal Cross, Mrs. Schwartz drove home and poured herself a glass of chardonnay. She sat down on a bar-stool at the kitchen counter and started to drink. Thirty minutes later, Kylie came home from school and saw her mother in the kitchen, crying. 

  

“Mom?” Kylie said.

Mrs. Schwartz looked up and wiped the tears off of her face. She sniffed and tilted her head back to drink the last sip of wine.

“You’re transferring schools.” she said quietly.

Wilson Coffee Shop (Part 2)

Kylie Schwartz unzipped her sequined pencil pouch. She emptied the contents onto her desk. One black pen, two red pens, one green pen, four mechanical pencils, and two regular pencils. She looked around the classroom. Four boys and three girls, not including herself. She looked up at the clock on the wall. 7:49. Looking back down at her desk, Kylie thought about how she wanted to arrange her pens and pencils. She decided to line the pens up red, green, black, green and red on the left-hand side of her desk. On the right-hand side, she would place the two regular pencils outside of the four mechanical pencils. As Kylie straightened her writing things, she heard the classroom door open behind her. Jumping slightly in her seat, she turned around to see a man, in his late-thirties or early-forties, wearing a button-down shirt and carrying a coat and a briefcase. He walked up to the long table at the front of the room and set his belongings down.

“Good morning.” said the man as he looked around the room and gave a weak smile.

The students didn’t say anything. One of the girls coughed.

“Ok,” said the man as he opened his briefcase and pulled out a white binder. “I hope you all had a nice Winter Break?”

A couple of students nodded.

“Good.” the man said. He opened up the binder and then looked up at Kylie.

“As you may have noticed, we have a new student in our homeroom.”

The four boys and three girls turned around in their seats to look at Kylie. She looked down at her pens and pencils, holding her breath.

“Don’t be shy,” said the man quietly, “why don’t you stand up and introduce yourself?”

Holding onto her desk, Kylie stood up slowly. As she stood up, she bumped the desk and disrupted two of the pencils. She quickly fixed them as she felt the students and the teacher watching her.

“Umm…”

The classroom door opened again, and this time it startled Kylie even more. She watched the tardy girl stride past and plop down into the seat in front of her.

“Sorry I’m late, Mr. Wilson.” said the girl loudly as she crossed her legs and looked at her French-tipped fingernails.

Kylie looked up at the teacher, Mr. Wilson. He was rubbing his temples and looking down at his white binder.

“Megan, I told you if you were tardy one more time that I would send you to the principal’s office.” he said without looking up from his binder.

Kylie sat back down, grateful that the attention of the class was no longer on her.

“Yeah, well I figured since it’s a new semester that I’d get a fresh start.” said Megan, pulling her hair behind her shoulders.

The class was silent as they watched Mr. Wilson. He kept looking at the white binder, and started tapping his fingers on the table.

“Alright.” he finally said. “But next time, I’m sending you to see Principal Ferguson.”

Megan perked up in her seat and even though Kylie was looking at the back of her head, she could tell that she was smiling.

Kylie couldn’t look away from Megan. She had never seen hair so beautiful. It was so dark that it looked blue. Kylie wondered what the best name for her hair color would be. She decided on Black Velvet.

“Kylie?”

Blinking, Kylie looked up and realized Mr. Wilson and her classmates were staring at her. She looked ahead and saw that Megan was staring, too. Her brown eyes were tinged with specks of yellow, and her dark eyebrows were long and beautifully arched. Kylie noticed the slightest hint of pink in her otherwise pale cheeks, and wondered if the color was makeup or an effect of the cold January weather. Her lips looked soft, and Kylie wondered if she regularly applied lip balm.

“Kylie?” said Mr. Wilson again. She could hear a hint of annoyance in his voice.

Kylie stood up and willed herself to look away from Megan.

“My…my name is Kylie. Kylie Schwartz.” she said, feeling heat rising into her face. She knew that her cheeks were not beautifully pink like Megan’s. They were probably a blotchy red.

“And where did you come from?” said Mr. Wilson gently.

“I um…well I come from here, I guess. I just transferred is all. From Central.”

“Why?” said Megan, with her perfectly arched eyebrows furrowed and her delicate nose turned up.

Kylie felt her cheeks burning even more and imagined the yellow specks in Megan’s eyes were tiny, glowing fires.

Mr. Wilson cleared his throat awkwardly and held up his white binder.

“Let’s take attendance.” he said.

Kylie sat back down, keeping her eyes locked on her pens and pencils until she was sure that Megan had turned around. Once the burning in her cheeks had stopped, Kylie looked back up at Megan and her black velvet hair. 

Before it Breaks

This piece was inspired by the song "Before it Breaks" by Brandi Carlile 

It had only been a dream. But it had been so clear. I could see it. We were together. I could see the hills, black in the moonlight. I could smell the evening air, chilled yet burnt from a distant wildfire. We were holding hands. You were faintly snoring. I smiled at the limestone surrounding us, thinking what I would have carved into it if I had been Borglum. I rub my thumb over your hand, feeling every wrinkle, like rings on a tree trunk. And then I knew, if I had been given the chance, I would have carved you.

Say it’s over.

Say I’m dreaming.

Say I’m better than you left me.

But I’m not.

I needed room to bend,

but you just let me break.

The dream has changed. I see the house. Our home. The home your grandparents lived in. The wildfire is closing in. The air is hot. I am choking, gasping for breath. I squeeze your hand to wake you but you aren't there. I rush inside to our bedroom, a place where I have always felt safe. I climb into bed and pull the blankets over me, but something is wrong. Our bed has shrunk. There used to be plenty of room for both of us, but now there is hardly enough room for me alone. The fire is consuming the house. But I don’t care. I only want to know where you are. I reach for the picture frame on our nightstand. The picture has changed. I am smiling, but there is an empty space next to me where you should have been. The fire enters our bedroom and I throw the picture into the flames. I lay down, letting the fire enter, and I can feel it burning my heart before it breaks. It had only been a dream.

Wilson Coffee Shop (Part 1)

Jeremiah Wilson looked down at his bowl of Old-Fashioned Quaker Oats oatmeal. He picked up his spoon and stirred the steaming goop, scrunching his nose at the extra raisins his wife had plopped in.

“Honey, would it really be that bad to have sausage and eggs every now and then?” Jeremiah said as he placed his napkin over the bowl of oatmeal and stood up to grab the box of Frosted Mini-Wheats from the cupboard.

Linda Wilson stepped into the kitchen, still wearing her purple robe and taking the rubber band off of the newspaper that she had retrieved from the front porch.

“Yes, it would be, unless you want to have a heart attack.” Linda said as she sat down across from Jeremiah, unfolding the newspaper and scanning the front headlines.

Pouring the last of the skim milk over his cereal, Jeremiah shook his head.

“You know, I am only forty-two.”

Linda set the newspaper down and looked up at her husband and his neglected oatmeal.

“People get heart attacks at our age…” she said as she slid the oatmeal bowl towards her and took the napkin off.

“Rarely.” said Jeremiah with his mouth full of cereal. “Besides, if anything was going to give me a heart attack it would be…”

Jeremiah swallowed his cereal and looked down at his bowl. Linda raised her eyebrows as she took a bite of oatmeal. Once she realized he was not going to finish his sentence, she placed her hand on his.

“Jeremy…”

“I don’t want to get into this now.” said Jeremiah as he stood up and took his cereal bowl over to the sink. “I need to get going.”

Linda put her head in her hands and sighed.

“I just don’t see why you won’t quit. It’s not like we need the money…”

“I’m not doing it for the extra money. I never did it for the money. Not that there’s much in it anyway.”

“I know, I know, it’s just that…”

Jeremiah turned around and placed his hands on the counter.

“It’s just that what?”

“It’s not right for you anymore.” said Linda, looking up at her husband and clasping her hands in her lap.

“It’s not about me.” said Jeremiah as he started walking towards the bedroom to get his coat and briefcase. “It’s about the kids.”

Linda stood up and followed Jeremiah down the hallway towards the bedroom.

“You have been helping kids for almost twenty years, and you have done an amazing job, but it’s not right for you anymore. I know you don’t want to admit it, Jeremy, but… you’re jaded.”

Jeremy quickly turned around from the bedroom closet with his coat over his arm and briefcase in hand. His normally cool, blue eyes seemed to be burning red.

“I am not jaded.” he said as he strode out of the bedroom towards the garage.

“Jeremy!” said Linda as she ran to catch up with him. She stopped him in the kitchen, grabbing his arm and turning him around to embrace him.

“Just think about the coffee shop some more.” she said into his shirt-sleeve. “Think about how happy we could be. We could finally live out our dream, Jeremy.”

Jeremiah sighed and kissed his wife on the top of her head.

“I have to go.” he whispered as he stepped out of her embrace and turned towards the garage door.

“I’ll see you tonight, sweetheart.” Linda called out as she stood alone in the hallway, crossing her arms around herself.

3 O'clock Snack

Amber crossed her arms and leaned back in her seat as she chewed on her second to last piece of Hubba Bubba gum. Trying to smack her lips loud enough to tune out the joyful sounds of her classmates packing up their book bags for the day, Amber watched Ellen and Melanie out of the corner of her eye. It wasn’t difficult for her to hear their conversation from the library table that she was sitting at.

“I can’t wait to go home, my mom said she was going to make brownies!” Ellen said.

“Oh, that sounds so good right now!” Melanie said as she slung her pink-sequined book bag over her shoulder. “I’m going to ask my mom to make some when I get home!”

Amber narrowed her eyebrows as she eavesdropped on Ellen and Melanie. She watched them walk past her, through the library, down the hallway, and around the corner until they were gone. How did they get their hair so shiny? Amber wondered. It made her think of puppies. Golden retriever puppies. With blonde and fluffy fur. So soft looking that you just have to touch. Touching her own hair, Amber sighed. Her hair felt mangy. If I was a puppy, I would be a mutt, Amber thought.

Holding her stomach, Amber thought about the brownies that Ellen and Melanie were going to eat once they got home. I bet their moms buy Betty Crocker mix. Amber thought. Not the off-brand stuff. She wondered if they got the milk chocolate or dark chocolate brownies. She hoped milk chocolate. Or maybe they bought the chocolate chunk kind. She also imagined Ellen and Melanie’s moms frosting their brownies, and letting them lick the spatulas once they were done.

Looking at the digital clock on the librarian’s desk off to her right, Amber held her stomach as it made a loud growling noise. At least now there wasn’t anybody around to hear. It was 3:07. Where was her tutor?

Two days ago, Amber had tried to make pizza rolls when she got home. She had been so hungry during school that the people sitting next to her were turning around, laughing and pointing. They even raised their hands and told the teacher. Ms. Putnam, listen to Amber’s stomach!

~

She had done everything that the box had said. She set the oven to 425 degrees. She had arranged the rolls 1 inch apart on an oven tray. She had even used her ruler from school to make sure she got exactly an inch. But once she put them in the oven, she forgot to turn the timer on. They were only supposed to be in the oven for 10 minutes. She was going to stand by the oven and watch them sizzle and bake, but just as she shut the oven door, she heard a dog bark outside. It sounded like it was standing on the porch, barking at the screen door. Hoping that it was a stray, Amber got excited and ran to the door. It was a big black lab, and it started jumping once it saw Amber at the door. She chased him around the yard and down the street, laughing, feeling the wind whip at her hair as she tried to catch the dog. Once she realized she couldn’t catch him, she ran back to the yard and grabbed a stick. This seemed to interest the black lab, who came bounding back to her. They played fetch for a while, and Amber marveled at how good he was at it. That was when she thought to look around his neck for a collar. She whistled at him to come to her. But he wouldn’t come. He was watching a rabbit across the street with his ears perked up. She was about to whistle at him again when she heard the smoke detector go off.

~

Amber watched her tutor as she came around the corner and walked down the hallway towards her. She started to chew her Hubba Bubba gum quicker and noticed that it had already lost its taste.

“How was high school today, Mother Mary?” said Amber as her tutor sat down in the seat across from her.

“Don’t call me that you little twerp.” said Mary as she flipped her hair across her shoulder and straightened out her tight t-shirt that had been working its way up her mid-section.

“That’s right, I can’t call you that because Mother Mary was a virgin.”

“I said shut up, you little brat!” said Mary. She flipped her hair again and crossed her right leg over her left. “Where’s your homework?”

“It’s all up here.” said Amber, pointing at her forehead.

“You know, I don’t have to help you.” said Mary, glancing at the clock on the librarian’s desk. It was 3:14. “We only have 15 minutes anyway.”

“You do too.” said Amber. “If you don’t help me, you don’t get volunteer hours, and then you won’t get confirmed. And it’s 16 minutes. You’re not very good at math, I don’t think I want you helping me anyway.”

Mary put her hand on her forehead and sighed. Amber looked at her nails. They were long and sparkly. Amber’s stomach growled. Mary looked up without taking her head out of her hand.

“Was that your stomach?” she said, her face all scrunched up.

“Yeah, so?”

“Jesus, why don’t you eat something?” Mary said, sitting back up in her seat and looking back at the clock. 3:15.

“My mom never makes me anything. She never makes me brownies like other moms.”

Mary shook her head and sighed. “Well, maybe if you weren’t such a brat she would make you brownies.

Amber popped a bubble with her Hubba Bubba gum. She doubted it.

~

The smoke detector was going off and the black lab had run away. Amber burst inside, letting the screen door slam behind her, hoping the alarm hadn’t woken her mom up. But as she ran into the kitchen, she saw her mom with a dirty dish towel, waving her hand at the smoke as she put the tray of black pizza rolls on the stovetop.

“God, Amber- what the fuck is your problem?” she said as she threw the dish towel on the counter.

“I was hungry.” said Amber. She wondered if the black lab would ever come back. She wondered if it had a collar. It probably did, but she could dream that it didn’t.

“Well set a goddamn timer next time.”

Amber looked at her mother. Her jeans were the smallest size you could buy at the store and they were still falling off of her waist. Her white tank top wasn’t white anymore, and there were holes and cigarette burns everywhere on her shirt. Amber watched as her mother opened cupboards, looking for her pack of cigarettes.

“Wasn’t the pizza roll smoke enough for you?”

“Dammit Amber, don’t you be a smart-ass. I’m your mother.”

“Pretty shitty one, if you ask me.”

Her mom didn’t hear her. She had found a cigarette and was lighting it. She took a long drag and blew the smoke into the kitchen. Amber watched the cigarette smoke as it blended in with the pizza roll smoke. She coughed and held her nose. It made an awful smell.

“Good night, Amber. Don’t stay up too late.”

Amber watched her mother walk into her bedroom and shut the door. Amber looked at the clock on the stove. It was 4:13.

~

Mary left at 3:18. Her phone had buzzed and she had laughed. Then she got up and left. Amber figured that meant she could go home too.

As she walked home, Amber watched for the black lab. She wanted to play fetch again and she wanted to see if she could teach him any new tricks. But she didn’t find him. She spit out her Hubba Bubba gum in the grass as she walked up to the front door of her house. She let the screen door slam behind her, knowing that it wouldn’t wake up her mom. She was still surprised that the smoke detector had woken her up.

Amber started opening up cupboards in the kitchen. She threw boxes on the floor that felt empty. Cheerios boxes, Club cracker boxes, Fruit Roll-Up boxes. She found a bag of blueberry muffin mix. Pushing the blueberry muffin mix aside, she saw a red box. She jumped up a little to reach it. Chocolate Brownie Mix. It wasn’t Betty Crocker, but at this point, Amber didn’t care. She got out a mixing bowl, a spoon, and a pan to put the brownie batter in. She mixed up the ingredients and turned on the oven. She made sure to set the timer. This time she was being careful. But as Amber watched her brownies, she couldn’t help but eye the smoke detector. With each second that the brownies baked, she felt more anxious. She couldn’t take it anymore. She didn’t want her mom to wake up. She didn’t want her to ruin her brownies. So Amber took her last piece of Hubba Bubba chewing gum out of her pocket. She unwrapped it and started to chew. She only chewed for a minute. It still had a lot of flavor. She grabbed a chair and set it in front of the counter. Slowly climbing onto the counter while holding the cupboard for support, Amber stuck her last piece of Hubba Bubba gum over the sensor on the smoke detector. She just wanted to eat her brownies in peace.

Author Spotlight: Cliff Roberts

About Cliff 

Cliff Roberts grew up in suburban Detroit and has since lived in several different states. From Maine to California to Texas to Florida and Tennessee, Cliff has experienced a wide spectrum of American life. He has had as many different careers as places lived. He has been an employee, business owner, award-winning salesman in two fields, a politician, and now an author. For a short time, Cliff had the privilege to serve as the Township Supervisor/Safety Director in his adopted hometown in Michigan, where he had a successful career running a local refuse company. He was elected to the post in the early '90s. 

Cliff is married to his sweetheart, Donna, and has two daughters and six grandchildren. When he isn’t writing, he is busy exploring the mountains or painting one-of-a-kind artwork or taking spectacular landscape photos which he sells along with his artwork at local flea markets and fairs.

About Nevwas's Gold 

With a knack for sticking his nose where it doesn't belong, amateur crime-fighter and disabled writer, Nate Nevwas finds himself embroiled in crimes which he has to solve in order to save himself. While trying to help two damsels in distress, Nate Nevwas has his life threatened, is attacked by hired killers, attacked by a gang of punks who beat  him within an inch of his life, battles with pirates on the high seas, fakes his own death, and  foils a mega-millions treasure heist. The adventure takes Nate from Key West to the Everglades, to the high seas and back again, leaving a trail of dead bodies and ending at a pot full of gold.

Interview with Cliff

You used to be a politician; would you say this has helped your writing career? 

Oh, it has definitely helped my career. I learned about how our government actually works, scary stuff and a lot about what motivates many of our political leaders. It’s not civic duty. I touch on those experiences in all of my books. As I continue writing I have lots of stories revolving around my short political career that I will be including in my books. But what I really learned was how to handle myself in public and how to negotiate which not only can be incorporated into stories but helps when I have to deal with publishers and their expectations.

Who are some of your favorite authors?

My writing is influenced by a number of writers. My favorites are Tom Clancy, James Patterson-when he himself writes the story, Clive Cussler- the same applies, Elmore Leonard, Vince Flynn for action, Harlin Coben, John Grisham, Dean Knootz, David Baldacci, Robert Parker, Sue Grafton, and Sandra Brown. I think it’s true if you’re going to write you had better be a big reader. I learned what I know about writing by reading.

Do you listen to music or watch TV while you write?

I don’t specifically have the TV or radio on but my family will have either one or both on in the other room and I do my best to block the sound out. At times I wear ear plugs to reduce the household noise. At other times I may turn on the TV to have some sound in the house because the silence can be deafening and thus distracting.

In what formats are your books available? Are you intending to expand these?

Currently, my books are available in E-book and paperback which can be found on Amazon and CreateSpace. I hope to eventfully offer hardcover as well, but the marketplace is leaning towards E-books which may make hardcover books vanity and not economically viable in the future. 

Here is a link to Cliff's Amazon page!

What advice would you give to new writers?

Write, write, write and write some more. Practice your skill over and over and over. Writing is like anything else, you have to practice at it to be good.

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If you are interested in being featured for an Author Spotlight, please contact me at hebbelnl@uni.edu

Flash Fiction

This is a piece I wrote for my fiction workshop class. The assignment was to write a flash fiction story in 100 words or less using elements the class found in the "short short" stories of Tom Hazuka. The elements were: wartime setting, use of dialogue to advance the plot, and book-ending.

Summer

The water in the bathtub was black. The hair-dryer was droning and the radio was blaring. There was a knock at the door.
"What?" Madeline yelled as she turned off the dryer and radio.
"I want to take a picture for Dad."
"Not now."
"Your father has been in Iraq for seven months and you're saying I can't take a picture of his daughter to send him?"
Madeline opened the door. Her mother gasped.
"Not now." her mother finally said.
Madeline shut the door. She sat down and looked at the black water in the bathtub.

Lemonade and Luck

Like most kids, my sister and I used to set up lemonade stands every summer. My Dad would mix up the lemonade, set up the table on the driveway, and bring out the boombox. My sister and I would write with marker on a piece of cardboard "Lemonade 25 cents." Then, we would sit down in our lawn chairs and wait. While lounging in the sunlight and listening to neighbors mowing their lawns, we would dream of having a successful lemonade stand. We would imagine people flocking to our stand, begging us for more lemonade, while Dad would be in the kitchen pouring and mixing as fast as he could. We saw ourselves making money- and lots of it. We imagined ourselves going to the mall and buying ice cream cones, clothes, and anything else we wanted.

Back then, I never understood why my dreams never became reality. As an adult, I know why.

As a child, I didn't understand the saying, "Location, location, location." My family lived on a court. Obviously not a good place to have a lemonade stand.

I also didn't understand the importance of having an original product. My sister and I could have sold any drink or food that we wanted- we could have simply sold pink lemonade, but we had to sell plain lemonade and just lemonade; and with other kids selling the same thing down the street, we never had a chance.

This summer, I was driving into Keystone, South Dakota after work and passed a group of kids with a lemonade stand. As I drove by, I thought about how lucky they were. They were on the main road of Keystone, in a location where hundreds of tourists drive past every day to see Mt. Rushmore.

I am sad to admit, I actually felt jealous of those kids as I drove by. If they had their lemonade stand multiple days during the summer, they could have easily made hundreds of dollars- whereas my sister and I never had a chance to make anymore than five dollars from neighbors who pitied us. All these kids had over my sister and I was luck.

Let's face it- some writers are lucky. Some are born to Stephen King. Others are born rich. The rest of us have no luck. We can either whine about it or try to create our own.

I could have moved my lemonade stand. There was an empty lot next to my house on the main road where we could have set up. My sister and I could have been more original. We could have sold regular and pink lemonade with Mom's chocolate chip cookies. We also could have been more persistent. My sister and I would usually sit at our stand for about two hours until we got tired and decided we wanted to sit in the air-conditioning and watch Spongebob instead. Writers, let's learn something from this. Stop whining, turn off your TV, and move your lemonade stand someplace else.

Liebster Blog Award

Thank you to Ashwin Kumar for nominating me for the Liebster Blog Award. This award is for up and coming blogs with less than 200 followers. "Liebster" is the German word for "favorite"...which means that Diary of Laura is one of Ashwin's favorite blogs! I am so happy to have such a satisfied and dedicated reader. Here is a link to Ashwin's Blog!

Now that I have been nominated for this award, there are a few fun things that I get to do!  

Rules for Nominees 

1. Post 11 facts about yourself.

2. Answer the 11 questions posted by the person who nominated you.

3. Nominate 5 other bloggers with less than 200 followers for the award.

4. Create 11 new questions for your nominees.

5. Go to each bloggers site and let them know about the award.

6. Thank the person who nominated you and link back to his/her blog.

I will start off by answering Ashwin's questions for me!

1. How many languages do you speak?

Just one; English. I would really like to learn Italian. 

2. What is your favorite movie?

The Dark Knight Rises.

3. What is your greatest achievement so far?

Getting my flash fiction story "Dr. James M. White" published.

4. What is your favorite book? Explain why it is your favorite.

As of right now, my favorite book is 1984 because it had a very strong emotional effect on me. 

5. How would you react to someone constantly irritating you?

I would either just let it bother me or completely blow up at them; nothing in between.

6. Explain the best moment you have experienced so far in your life. 

Playing in a symphony is one of the best life experiences I have ever had. 

7. What do you do with your leisure time?

I have to admit I sleep a lot, but I also like writing, reading, practicing my violin and watching TV. I also enjoy spending time at coffee shops and bookstores. 

8. Would you rather spend 10 days on an Antarctic cruise expedition or a 12 day European tour?

As adventurous as an Antarctic cruise sounds, I would rather do a European tour because I have always wanted to go to Europe.

9. What is your favorite TV show?

I love Seth Macfarlane's humor, so my favorite shows are Family Guy, American Dad and The Cleveland Show. I have also been on a Futurama kick lately.

10. What is your favorite color and why?

Orange. My birthday is in September so it reminds me of the leaves in Fall and of monarch butterflies. 

11. How many days a week do you exercise?

Lately? Zero. 

Here are 11 totally random facts about myself! 

1. I don't like milk.  

2. I have a book autographed by Elmore Leonard. 

3. I am going to Brazil with the Northern Iowa Symphony Orchestra in 2014.

4. I have a beta fish named Moose. 

5. I have never needed braces or retainers for my teeth. 

6. I prefer coffee over tea.

7. I drink way too much pop. 

8. I want to live in Denver, Colorado when I am done with school. 

9. I still tie my shoes starting with bunny ears. 

10. My favorite lotion scent is vanilla.

11. My favorite animals are dogs, elephants and buffaloes. 

Here are 11 questions for my nominees!

1. What is your favorite non-alcoholic drink?

2. What is your favorite magazine?

3. Are you a dog or cat person?

4. What are your hobbies?

5. What do you do for a living?

6. What is your favorite genre of music?

7. What is your favorite board game?

8. How many siblings do you have?

9. Do you prefer showers or baths?

10. What is your favorite way to exercise?

11. What is your favorite restaurant? 

My nominees for the Liebster Blog Award are:

1. Musings of a Former Social Butterfly Turned Cat Lady 

2. Precious Glories

3. By Fits and Starts

4. J.W. Northrup

5. Reader's Digest