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a little too fancy for me. I tend to be a little more plain when it comes to writing. Sure, it’s yours; just put the carton in your trunk. Well, I’d like to get something for those used similes. They’re a little worn around the edges, but serviceable. So are those idioms. Colorful, aren’t they? Pretty decorative when you use ‘em right. That’s the garbage can. It’s where I threw the double negatives, dangling participles and wasted time. I couldn’t give them to charity in good conscience. You can’t use ‘em. That? I’m giving that away, too. No, it’s not a footstool or a door stop. It’s a giant economy size writer’s block. So far, I haven’t had any takers. You want it? No? Well, anyway, it was good of you to stop by. Tell your friends! E E Kennedy, author of IRREGARDLESS OF MURDER (available now in ebook & print!) and its sequel, DEATH DANGLES A PARTICIPLE (August '13) grew up in far northern New York State, where these mysteries are set. She is a graduate of Huntingdon College and studied counseling and guidance at the University of Alabama. Find out more about Mrs. Kennedy by visiting her website, MissPrenticeCozyMystery.com
******* Featured Author ~ Kathi Macias!
Kathi Macias is a multi-award winning writer who has authored more than 30
©September 2012 The Wordsmith Journal Magazine
books and ghostwritten several others. A former newspaper columnist and string reporter, Kathi has taught creative and business writing in various venues and has been a guest on many radio and television programs. Kathi is a popular speaker at churches, women’s clubs and retreats, and writers’ conferences, and won the 2008 Member of the Year award from AWSA (Advanced Writers and Speakers Association). Her latest release, The Deliver (book 3 in the Freedom series) is available now in Ebook & Print! Find out more about Kathi by visiting her website or author page @ The Wordsmith Journal Magazine.
******* Roll Back the Clouds by Liz Flaherty Sticky. Moss didn’t want to wake up yet, but the pervasive sense of lying in a puddle of molasses forced the issue. And someone was watching him. It felt like when he was on morphine, when there was always someone else in the room. Even when there wasn’t. Angels, Lucy said. “Lucy?” He forced his eyes open. And remembered. If Lucy was watching him, it was from a cloud. It wasn’t daylight yet. Not even the grayness of dawn peeked through the blinds that were supposed to be opaque but weren’t. Lucy bought them when he was taking chemo and having trouble sleeping. She hung them herself, standing on a kitchen chair and muttering prayers mixed with some of the words to “It Is Well With My Soul” while she measured, hammered, and drilled. Oh, trump of the angel! Oh, voice of the Lord! Blessed hope, blessed rest of my soul! He’d lain in a half-stupor of medication and grueling nausea and thought he could survive anything as long as he had her.
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