The Smoking Pen Bar and Grill 2009

Achoo!!

Damn, that dust is thick!

Okay, put the amber liquid back in the bottle, put the bottle back on the back-bar, and just pour me a hot mug of thick java. I wants mine black, just thick n' black, see? And none of that booteeque brew, mind ya. Plain ol' java, if you please.

I just got into the neighborhood. First year in town, and it's early, so there's time to kick back in this lounge and cogitate awhile on words. Plots. An outline. Some characters. I had this small county seat news rag in a far west state, and sometimes when a hard story or difficult editorial needed writing, I'd just grab the corner table in Bux's 1880's saloon and put words down on a yellow legal pad. A cold draft and an old Parker pen let the words flow; then I could walk back across the street to the shop and punch it out on the Linotype. Damn, but that was a whole lifetime ago.

So, maybe now in this digital age my electric keyboard will let some words flow despite my dotage. We'll see. Old age is stirring up memories of teen years lived in a high mountain valley, and some ancients who tolerated a shy kid running loose among them. That's the germ of a plot.

Soon as this damn dust clears and the swamper flushes this place out, we should see a crowd start to gather.

Cheers!

Shiral slips into the Smoking Pen, encouraged by the lighted front windows.

Creeeaaaak! The door opens!
WAAAACHOOO! Somebody get us a virtual vacuum cleaner!

Hey there, Dixie!, Hello hello for another year! What does a girl have to do for some mulled cider around here?

Let the games, and the writing begin! Anybody seen any Mountainbluebirds around? Serge, how about some rainwater and earthworms?

Melissa

You can have a sound mind in a healthy body.... Or you can be a Nanonovelist!

Nanowrimo--Eavesdrop on the Voices In Your Head

What a joy to see lights on in the old place. I knew it was going to be a special day when I woke early with all the fuzziness of the last few weeks gone from my head and here was the reason, The Smoking Pen is open for business.

I open the door gingerly, expecting a heavy layer of dust to set off my allergies but everything is sparkling and shiny and so new looking, even the sweeping polished oak bar looks as if it could have been hewn from the tree only yesterday. Somebody's been busy but there's no sign of life now, although they've thoughtfully left a pot of good, strong coffee keeping nice and hot at the back of the bar.

I go round and have a quick look in the under bar fridges, excellent, someone has left full cream milk for frothing. Cappuccino made, I make my way over to a big velvet armchair next to the fireplace, now if that was lit everything would be just perfect. As I sat down I heard a crackling sound coming from the fireplace, then a tiny orange light winked into existence and quickly grew to roaring flames. This place really is Magic!

I settle down with my cappuccino and let my mind drift while I wait for the others to wander in.

Don't tell me the sky's the limit when there are footprints on the moon!

Zookeeper wanders in, accompanied by much meowing as she's brought her zoo with her. A kitten peeks out of her pocket.

"I need something strong to chase the blues away," she says. "Oh, and milk for the cats. It's the only way to keep them off the keyboard."

2005 In Back of the North Wind WINNER!
2006 Leopard's Paw WINNER!
2007 The Old Straight Track (finished) WINNER!
2008 The Other Side of the Wall (finished) WINNER!
2009 Dark Inheritance

Nina stood on the loading dock, watching the Sysco truck back up. She covered her ears until the beeping stopped, then waited while the driver unloaded the order.

“Sorry about the delay,” he said, pulling the hand truck out from under a stack of boxes. He handed Nina a sheaf of papers, then went back out for the next load. She went down the list, checking off items as they arrived.
Shrimp
Chicken breasts
kabobs
and on and on. Produce. Cheeses. Dairy products. Paper goods.

She had forgotten what is was like to get a new place open, and the order was two days late. But she looked at the kitchen crew putting away the multitude of boxes, pulling out cleaning supplies, even slicing meats before the whole order was off the truck, and she smiled. They worked together as though it hadn’t been eleven months since they last did their behind-the-scenes magic, making everything from fried shrimp to plot bunny stew for the hard-writing customers.

She signed the receipt and filed the yellow copies in the small office, reassured that the Pen’s kitchen would be up and running by lunchtime. Then she slid out the inconspicuous door that led to the bar.

She introduced herself to Graybyrd and greeted Shiral, Cassandra, Zoo and Dixie before pouring herself a cup of coffee. She handed Dixie a small package.

“What’s this?” Dixie asked, pulling a spongy gray cube out of the shiny bag. She turned it over, but the back looked no different than the front.

“Insta hunk,” Nina said, grinning. “Drop it in warm water, and he becomes whoever you want.”

Winner 2005: The Tribe of Palmetto Bay
Winner 2006: The Blue Light
Winner 2007: Fido
Winner 2008: Disappearance
Winner 2009: Comp Psi

http://cookingback2reality.blogspot.com/

"This is my kind of place," Sereana said under her breath as she walked in through the big oak door. Looking around she saw people relaxing and talking in little groups. Smells wafted from the kitchen making her stomach growl with want and need. The smell of coffee gave her mind a lift. Should she have a cup? Before she knew it there was a steaming mug in her cupped hands, helping to warm her from the fall chill outside. Not even questioning how it got there, she sat on one of the comfy stools at the bar, removed her laptop from its carry case and started typing, the inspiration coming like the wind blowing the cobwebs of the last eleven months away.

Starfarer wanders in and looks around. She smiles as she spots the roaring fire.

"Frosty out there this morning. Is that plot-bunny stew ready yet?"

She rubs her chilled hands together before holding them out to the flames.

"If not I'll settle for a cup of hot tea, the black kind not green, with milk. Thank you."

She settles into a chair by the fire, cup nestled in both hands.

"Ahhhhhh. Now all I need is a plot."

Agatha tread softly toward the entrance, trying to decide whether to enter. She remembered the strange goings-on of the year before, but she also remembered the wonderful Earl Grey tea they made here. She was in need of a good strong cuppa, and a muse for the coming challenge. She knew she could find both inside the Smoking Pen, although she had not frequented such a place in the past eleven months.

She brushed off her calf-length tweed skirt, fastened the top button of her cardigan sweater, straightened her shoulders, and pushed through the door.

The place sparkled. There was order here--chairs pushed in under tables, everything clean and polished. It was nothing like her memory of the chaos that reigned the previous year. Yes, she could be at home here.

Sticking out her chin, she marched to the bar. What was it about that bartender that made her feel almost girlish? He handed her the tea with just the right amount of milk in a bone china cup, a blueberry scone on a plate, and a cloth napkin. She hadn't had to utter a word.

He remembers me, she thought, smiling. It is good to be back. I just hope we can maintain a bit more decorum this year.

But, somehow, she knew her hope was in vain.

'06-Death at Glenville Falls (win)
'07--untilted
'08--Death in the Ivory Tower (win)
'09--Death of a Bookworm
A Christmas Sampler: Sweet, Funny, and Strange Holiday Tales by Bethlehem Writers Group @ http://www.bethlehemwritersgroup.com

Catana opens the door very quietly, and shuts it just as quietly, hoping that no one will notice her. She looks around, wondering if some of the racy stories she heard about this place last year were true. Maybe she hopes, way back in a corner of her mind, that they were. For the moment, at least, everything is quiet. It seems like a respectable place in spite of the rumors. Everything is clean and sparkly, and she sees that a couple of the people sitting comfortably sprawled in their chairs are drinking -- tea. That's enough to boost her courage and she walks over to the bar.

Whatever the words say, there's always more beneath.

My writing blog: Words on Top
http://wordsontop.blogspot.com
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
NaNo '09 - Gift of Blood: Beginnings and Endings
NaNo '10 - Gift of Blood: Michel (tentative)

After spending the afternoon catching up on things that I couldn't find time for when I had a job, I visited the Pen, looking for dinner and friendship. There was an unfamiliar Oriental looking man behind the massive bar. I sat down and asked for a bowl of black beans and rice and a Blue Moon.

He brought me the beer and stood there, looking confused.

"Can I get some black beans and rice?" I repeated. I spoke clearly and tried to keep it simple. I have often had trouble understanding what Chinese people are ordering, and I thought maybe it went both ways. He just stood there, a quizzical look on his face.

I pulled a pen out of my pocket so I could draw a bowl of beans and rice on the cocktail napkin that came with my beer. As soon as my pen touched the paper, it drew a Chinese character.

"Ah," he said, his face lighting with recognition. He returned a few minutes later with the wonderful Cuban meal I remembered from last year. I thanked him, to which he nodded blankly, then turned the pen over in my hand. It looked vaguely familiar, but I couldn't place it. Most likely, the Sysco delivery man handed it to me with the order, and I had pocketed it without thinking.

A translator pen? I tucked it away. Could come in handy later, especially here.

Winner 2005: The Tribe of Palmetto Bay
Winner 2006: The Blue Light
Winner 2007: Fido
Winner 2008: Disappearance
Winner 2009: Comp Psi

http://cookingback2reality.blogspot.com/

I looked at the lump Nina handed me. Insta Hunk. I considered the implications of that in light of last years hunks. Jonathan was a far distant memory I had no desire to resurrect. He'd made a nice bartender but well, frankly, after the third chapter of my NaNo novel he was just boring.

I stuffed the lump into my shoulder bag hanging from the back of my chair. "Thanks Nina. I'll think hang onto it."

A tall glass of iced tea appeared on the table in front of me. My eyes followed the hand up to where it connected to a large tanned wrist and arm encased in a white jacket. I slowly looked up until I was staring into the eyes of . . .

"SERGE!" I squealed and jumped to my feet, stood on tiptoe and threw my arms around his thick neck. "Oh Serge! It is so good to see you! Now I know things will run smoothly knowing you are here."

He pulled my arms free and cleared his throat, stepping back with his usual dignified bow. "Madam, nice to see you as well. I am glad to see you in good health. My condolences."

"Thank you,Serge. But, Serge, tell me, I heard you'd left for Spain right after the holidays. When did you come back?"

"That rumor was false, Madam. I've been in the Bahamas since January."

I noted the deep tan. I frowned. Interesting.

"Well, it is lovely to see you. And as usual you know just what a girl needs."

"My pleasure, Madam."

I looked around. "Isn't it lovely to see all the gang here? I can't wait until Bruce and Mer arrive. and all the rest. I can't wait to hear the lovely Bluebird in the rafters." I thought for a moment. "I wonder what Bruce will get up to this year? I am sure Mer will have her hands full as usual keeping him in line."

"Yes, Madam. It is nice to see everyone. I have not seen the dynamic duo .... sorry, Mr Bruce and Lady Mer. I was wondering, Madam, does anyone know if Kopi will be here soon?"

I looked around. "She isn't here?"

"No, Madam."

"Oh." I chewed my lip. "Oh, I do hope she shows up soon."

"Yes Madam, as do we all."

I surveyed the room. It was shimmering and the tinkling of glass and flatware was cheerful. Tables were already filling up with old friends, intent on getting reacquainted and plotting. I saw an elderly lady in tweed slip quietly in and settled at an inconspicuous table. I frowned. The League's leader was here early. After a moment, I let it go. Perhaps she just wanted to have a cup of tea and relax. But one never knew.

Dixiegirl A Dixie Girl's Place
"May you be captured by a dozen ideas that you quickly convert to a good story."
2006: Untitled
2007: Shakedown - Winner
2008:The End of Winter - Winner

Shiral looks up from her mug of Russian Caravan tea, thoughtfully provided by the inestimable Serge. And away from the tiny, moth-sized muse in her purple unitard.

"Insta-hunk? Where can I go to get one of those?"

Muse: "Will you keep your mind on business? In 25 days, you have to start a novel! We've got a lot of work to do, if you want to end up with something you'll like. Have you done any research on Bologna Italy, yet?

Shiral: Well, no. I'm having a hard time concentrating lately. I kind of hate to break off work on my current novel. I was just getting some momentum back.

Muse: "is it MY fault you have too many creative projects?"

SHiral: "You're my muse: of COURSE it's your fault! You jump around like a cricket and I can hardly concentrate. I'm a unitasker, not a multi-tasker!"

Muse: Well I never! Do I look ANYTHING like a cricket, to you? HUmmph! I'm not sure I'm going to hang around here if you insult me like this! Make your own darn Plot Bunny Soup!" turns her back in a humph, folding tiny arms across her chest.

Shiral: "Well this is going to be another tough year if we're already fighting..."

Melissa

You can have a sound mind in a healthy body.... Or you can be a Nanonovelist!

Nanowrimo--Eavesdrop on the Voices In Your Head

I woke and stretched my arms up, dislodging the pillow that was stopping me from getting a stiff neck, I had fallen asleep on the sofa again; no, this isn't my sofa and if it isn't my sofa where am I and who put the pillow there? The realisation that something is wrong shocks me into full wakefulness and I look around me to see were I am - and relax - I'm still in the Smoking Pen, so much for coffee keeping you awake.

The place is quietly humming now, the gurgle of the coffee machine, the quiet clicking of keyboards and the soft murmur of voices as everyone gets re-acquainted after the long hiatus. There are new people to get to know as well, welcome all of you, and there sat quietly in a corner with tea and, oh my is that blueberry muffins, mmmm, is Agatha. I hope she has a better attitude than last year, all that double dealing was not good for the soul. I walk over to the bar to see if they have any more of those blueberry muffins and I may try tea this time, English breakfast tea, good for waking up.

The only hint of adversity is Melissa arguing in harsh little whispers with her muse. Keep tight hold of her Melissa, especially with Agatha lurking.

I spy Dixie on the other side of the room talking to someone I've not seen before, yet strangely familiar. Serge told me she has a cube of insta-hunk, hope she's not making her own men again! I wave wildly, standing on my tip-toes to make myself seen and manage to catch her attention then weave my way through the growing crowd to be introduced. If he's as good up close as he looks from a distance then she's gonna have to consider sharing.

Don't tell me the sky's the limit when there are footprints on the moon!

"Come on, Dix.....answer your cell phone, darlin'....." Mer whispered, pressing her cell phone to her ear & ducking behind the newspaper stand across the street from the Pen, but Dixie's phone just kept ringing. Obviously she was having a great time inside with the old gang. Maybe with Jonathan & Serge too. Mer longed for a hot Vanilla Latte & the warmth from the fireplace & good company-- the weather had changed almost overnight and these clamshells provided plenty of lift, but no warmth. She snapped her phone shut and moved to a nearby telephone pole to tack up another poster.

"HAVE YOU SEEN THIS WRITER???" it read, in large multi-colored letters. Underneath was a picture of Bruce, his Harley shirt was torn, his pants were smudged with paint, and what looked like a rainbow clown wig was hanging from one pocket. He held a paint-roller in one hand, a can of paint in the other. Mer took out a black Sharpie pen from one clamshell & wrote: "Last seen in the company of a scary-@ss looking clown dressed in bright yellow & large red shoes. Please call The Mermaid with any & all information." on the bottom of the poster.

Mer glanced longingly at the Pen, but sighing softly, she undulating undulated dutifully down the street, knowing that once she went inside, she wouldn't want to leave. What kind of Muse would she be if she didn't try to rescue her writing partner before having a good time??

It was time to rustle up a search party. She'd try Dixie's cell again in a few, cos she really needed Dix's PI talents....but for now she was on her way to find NellyBean, Angel & a few others to help rescue the Deuce.

~Mer
ML-Modesto Region, CA
Co-moderator: NaNo Rebels thread
"I'm Gonna Wave my nerd Flag High"
"Put 'em up! Put 'em uuuup!!"

I hate cell phones. I flipped it up and saw that I had a missed call. Darn! With the sounds around me in the Pen and the depth of my handbag I had not heard the thing ringing. Mer! Dear Mer had tried to call me. Now what in the world could she be up to. She was very conspicuous by her absence. Probably out tracking down the Duece. He could stir up more trouble than . . . well there was no analogy that could suffice for Bruce. His middle name was Chaos.

I slipped the phone back in my bag and sauntered over to the bar. The help this year was decidedly strange. Serge was just Serge. Tall, thick and ... tanned. The most competent bartender the Pen was ever likely to get. The man could positively read minds. He could see a guy, like that long legged fella walking in the door, and he knew immediately what he would be drinking. I watch as a tall icy glass with a aubergine liquid was placed on the bar. The tall lean, really good looking guy had strolled in and was looking around but when he turned to order his drink, his brows rose into his hairline. He picked up the glass and stared first at the glass and then at the three men behind the bar. He took a drink, licked his lips and his brows rose further. He then raised the glass and toasted the bartenders. He had no idea who had put the drink up but it was obviously good. He move away and found a booth.

I waved at Cassandra and Nina. I was especially glad to see Cass. She'd been having a rough summer but this NaNo would be good for her. She could relax and frolic and write as the mood took her. And Nina too probably needed the diversion.

The place had filled up pretty fast but there were several regulars who had not appeared. And where was Kopi? I was really concerned here. I'd opened up to save her the time and trouble but now, I wondered if she was all right. She'd been very mysterious last year when I saw her last. "If I'm not here I hope someone will bring it back." A knot twisted in my gut. I really wished Kopi would get here.

I grabbed my iced tea and walked over to join Cass. "What's 'cha doing, Cass? You feeling up to this race for the purple?"

Dixiegirl A Dixie Girl's Place
"May you be captured by a dozen ideas that you quickly convert to a good story."
2006: Untitled
2007: Shakedown - Winner
2008:The End of Winter - Winner

The deuce staggered through the door of the Pen and looked around wildly. He was completely discheveled. His eyes were red-rimmed beneath the hat pulled low over his eyebrows, he sported a 2 or 3 day growth of stubble on his cheeks and chin, and wore a long gray trenchcoat that might at one time have been black. A pair of huge red shoes stuck out from beneath the coat, a colorful anomaly in his otherwise dusty appearance.

"At last," he could barely be heard to mutter, then seemed to be on the verge of fainting. He stumbled instead toward the nearest chair, unprepared for the group that rushed toward him.

Nina, Dixie, Cassandra and Melissa stared down at the shabby stranger, then Dixie stepped forward.

"Bruce! It IS you!" she said accusingly. "Where've you been? Do you know the Mermaid is looking all over the place for you? She's been working her clamshells off putting up posters all over town!"

The deuce sighed softly, raking the hat off his head. "I know," he breathed. "I saw one of them on my way in." He seemed completely exhausted, until Serge placed a mug of latte' before him. It was crowned with a thick white cap of whipped cream, his favorite. Bruce brightened immediately.

"Thanks, Serge. You always know, don't you?"

Serge only bowed, then retreated, and Bruce found himself under another barrage of questions, from all four women. Their concern was evident.

"It's okay," he interrupted. "I'm back. I've just had..." He paused. "Well," he began, "my retirement last year didn't go quite as planned. Oh, it was fun for a while. I played with my old cars. Heck," he chuckled, "I spent most of my severence pay on Pauliine..."

The group gasped in unison, and Deuce put up his hands in an attempt to calm them. Melissa fluttered menacingly.

"Pauline is my truck," he explained, to a chorus of Ohhhh's. I named her after an aunt who... well, long story. Anyway, everything was going along fine until she took all my money. Pauline," he added, lest they think it was some other female. "Well, I had to go to work. I saw a sign in McDonald's that said they wanted a maintenance man, so I thought, okay. 34 years a carpenter; right up my alley." He took another long sip, then abruptly stood up.

"They made me do this," he said, pulling his trenchcoat apart. All four ladies fell back. Nina even covered her eyes, but he was fully dressed, in a pair of black slacks with paint spots all over them and a shiny blue & black checked shirt with a yellow M over the pocket. "Yeah," he said sheepishly. "I have to wear a plastic shirt, even when it's mid-90's outside. 100% polyester. But that's not the worst of it."

He sat back down, and Dixie, Nina and Cassandra followed suit, now too entrenched in his story to leave without seeming rude. The deuce took another sip of his latte', followed it with an 'ahhhhhhh', and continued. "They do these promotions, see, and they needed a clown. I had the wig and the shoes, so I guess I was a natural choice."

Dixie snapped, "Yeah, that and the goofy face," but the others shot her withering looks, and she rolled her eyes and sat back in her chair.

"It all went south when 'the evil double' showed up," Bruce continued. "Took out a couple of shift managers, robbed the till, and left a trail of oversize footprints in his wake." He sighed again. "They thought it was me, even though I told them about last year in the Pen, and all the confusion then. Nobody believed me..."

Melissa frowned, fluttering her wings over the deuce's shoulder. "So you ran," she finished, and he nodded, searching their eyes for help and belief.

Melissa brightened. "Listen," she chirped, "it's okay. It's November. You simply need a new beginning. We'll cover for you; tell them you were here that day. Right, girls?" There was some murmuring, then a unified nodding of heads. "Say, deuce, you need to borrow my muse for a few days, to get your story straight?"

Bruce held up one hand firmly. "God, no," he said, vehemently. "I've got my characters, my plot line, and I even know how I want this story to go. I just need my co-writer." He stood, abruptly, "Now, which way did that Mermaid go? I've got a TON of things to tell her!"

And with that. he was gone, latte' mug and all. Serge shrugged his shoulders. "He'll be back," he said simply, and wiped at the bar with a perfectly crisp white towel.

_______________________________________
2006 winner ~ "Drew Copes"
2007 winner ~ "So, These Three Murderers are Drinking in a Bar"
2008 winner ~ "Eater of Sins"
2009 ~ continuation of a WIP (NaNoRebel)

Nina looked at Melissa. "How did you manage to flutter?" she asked.

"I've been taking lessons from my sister. It's really not that hard. Come on, I'll show you. But we should do it outside. It's easy to knock stuff over until you get the hang of it."

And with that, the two women left by way of the back patio.

Winner 2005: The Tribe of Palmetto Bay
Winner 2006: The Blue Light
Winner 2007: Fido
Winner 2008: Disappearance
Winner 2009: Comp Psi

http://cookingback2reality.blogspot.com/

I watch Bruce stagger out of the Pen and shook my head. As usual, the Duece was all drama and more than a few drinks into celebrating. A stong clue was thinking Melissa was Mountain Bluebird. That tale of his was a likely story. Although Bruce hadn't been responsible for last year's attempt to sabotage NaNo, he had been responsible for a lot of mischief and mayhem. I don't suppose you could expect any less of a guy who wore a clown shoes with everything from an Armani suit.... to a fast food shirt. And I seemed to recall a fur thong from last year. Sad because the guy actually cleaned up pretty good... when he remembered. But he spent an awful lot of time making me out ot be the bad guy.

Poor Mer had her hands full. Well, she liked it and a happy Mer was a fun Mer. Bruce better mind his P's and Q's. The more I thought about that story, the more I was suspicious. It is my nature and the part Bruce really hates. That story was probably thought up on the spur of the moment because he knew Mer was looking for him and anything less than a disaster would not be very pretty. . . for Bruce.

Nina and Melissa drifted to the french doors at the back of the room and onto the patio where a fire pit glowed and cast dancing shadows on those grouped around it.

I wondered what I was going to do with myself this year. Last year had been overflowing with excitement but this year, I just didn't feel it for some reason. The Pen was the same. My old friends were here. The new folks seemed really nice and already into the spirit of the Pen. But I seemed to have lost something and I didn't know where or how or what to do about it.

A tanned hand deposited a Hershey Bar with almonds on the table with a frosty diet coke. I looked up at Serge and smiled. Last year everyone began to think he was behind a lot of the mischief but it had just been more of Bruce's shenanigans. I was glad we'd cleared him. You'd never guess that Serge had a heart of gold.

"Thanks, Serge. You really do always know."

He bowed deeply, "I try, Madam, I try."

Dixiegirl A Dixie Girl's Place
"May you be captured by a dozen ideas that you quickly convert to a good story."
2006: Untitled
2007: Shakedown - Winner
2008:The End of Winter - Winner

I, of the nom de plume "Garretwriter," sidled into the Pen. I walked toward the bar, glancing about discreetly.

The infamous Serge was actually coming toward me carrying a huge mug of decaffeinated Earl Gray. So all I had heard of him was true.

"Thank you, Serge," I said, taking the cup. "I'm glad to see you're more than a legend. But tell me - I'm new to the Pen - what exactly is Plot Bunny Stew, and when will it be served? Is it kinda like Insta Hunk, only it's Insta Plot? 'Cuz dang, my plot needs help!"

Serge threw back his head and guffawed. Heads turned. Really, it wasn't that funny...

Then we all saw what Serge had seen. Dixie's blob of Insta Hunk had escaped and manifested. It looked a little like Bruce the Deuce, he of infinite fame - and yet it wasn't. I gasped in disbelief. And believe me, it takes a lot for me to disbelieve anything.

Go 'Guins!

I gasped as something lurched against my hip. My handbag was gyrating frenetically. Suddenly, the Insta Hunk block literally popped like corn out onto the floor and a form grew until I was staring at a tall male dressed in .... oh my.... how weird. . . or firghtening. It looked a lot like Bruce. Oh.... my......

He stood, staring straight ahead with a sort of dazed look on his face, making him look even more like Bruce. Then, he blinked, looked wildly about and whirled around and dashed out the front door. It made a thundering report as it slammed behind him and everyone in the place jumped.

Garretwriter giggled and covered her mouth.

I studied her through narrowed eyes. Hmmmmm, I wonder what she's up to? How had that Insta Hunk suddenly animated. Looked like things were beginning to stir around the Pen.

I finished my drink and stood, smoothing my straight black skirt over my hips and straightening the matching black scooped neck my sweater. I waved at Serge and headed for the door, hips swaying and heels clicking. I decided it was time to call it a night. Work came early tomorrow and I had tons to do after work as well.

"Hey Dixie," a horse voice drifted from behind the potted palms near the door.

Where had those come from? I turned and peered into the dark recess behind them. "Who's there?"

"A friend."

"Friends don't skulk behind potted plants and whisper in very bad stage whispers."

"Watch your back. The Duece is up to his old tricks again."

"What's that mean? Bruce isn't a bad guy. He's just written that way."

A snort followed. "Right, Dix. Remember the punch he tossed you last year?"

I rubbed my jaw. I did remember that. And it irritated me. "Look you come out from there and show yourself. Bruce is a good guy. He and Mer and I have had some good times. He may cause chaos wherever he goes but he hasn't really don't any harm to anyone." I stared hard into the dark. All I could see was a darker shape. And I didn't want to get any closer. Something told me this guy was seriously disturbed.

"Who are you anyway?"

"A friend."

"Sugar, my friends don't hang out in the foliage."

No response.

"Helllo?"

Again, nothing.

Someone moved up behind me and I turned around.

"Who are you talking to, Dixie?"

Dixiegirl A Dixie Girl's Place
"May you be captured by a dozen ideas that you quickly convert to a good story."
2006: Untitled
2007: Shakedown - Winner
2008:The End of Winter - Winner

One thing fluttering is good for is burning off a lot of calories! Between Serge giving me a nice big Mexican hot chocolate and that last hummingbird feeder I hit, I'd better practice a LOT of fluttering. And boy am I buzzed. =o)

Bruce, I'M not a mountainbluebird, you silly clown! That's my sister Ann. =o)

Only my muse fies around me.

Melissa

You can have a sound mind in a healthy body.... Or you can be a Nanonovelist!

Nanowrimo--Eavesdrop on the Voices In Your Head

You can have a sound mind in a healthy body.... Or you can be a Nanonovelist!

Nanowrimo--Eavesdrop on the Voices In Your Head

I stumbled along the sidewalk while reading my Google map.
I was on two missions. The first to find the Smoking Pen,
although I was sure it was no more than an urban legend.

My second mission was to not step on a crack. Everyone knows
the consequence of such a hideous act.

Head down and finger marking my way, I didn't see the tail fin
coming at me. Without warning, my forehead bumped into
a clam shell.... as a matter of fact there were two of them.

I looked up into the worried eyes of Mer.
"Hey Merfriend, what ya doin' out of the water?"

"Looking for Bruce. I can't find him anywhere."

"And you're.... ahhhh.... worried? I tried to act concerned.

"Haven't you seen the signs I posted?" With an astonished voice
she pointed to the poster to my right.

"Ah, no. Actually I'm trying to find the Smoking Pen. It seems to be lost too."

Mer shook her head as she pointed across the street. "It's right there."

I comforted my friend the best I could considering I knew for a fact
Bruce would not be lost for long. I wasn't that lucky. Nope, Nerd Boy Brucie
had a brotherly habit of showing up just to give me a bad time.

Brucie lost... I should be so lucky I thought as I gave Mer there-there hugs
and told her everything would be fine. And I really believed that.
But right now I was more anxious to see the inside of the Pen than find Bruce.

Victory is crossing the starting line.

Serge found me hiding behind the foilage.
"They're not all as crazy as they look or sound," he said handing me a shot of Maker's Mark.
I downed it in one gulp and after my breath came back and my eyes stopped watering, I gasped, "I guess I can trust you since you know them better than me. I'm new around here."
"I never would have guessed," he smiled as he gestered with his arm for me to step out from the shadows. "You may be a newbie to the Smoking Pen, but you are a writer and that is all you need. You'll get the hang of this place soon."
"Do you think the Insta Hunk will reappear or is he lost to the night?"
Serge just shrugged his shoulders, gave me a wink and drifted off to another patron needing a drink.

All last November she dreamed about being part of the laughter and comraderie inside the Smoking Pen. Many times she walked slowly past the door and listened to the laughter and music. But she was too shy to intrude. So when November was over she drifted off and slipped into the rough and tumble of Second Life. The turmoil there woke her up to the reality of the shared love of NaNo so she put on her boots, squared her shoulders and marched back to the Smoking Pen. Where she was almost knocked down by this.... this ..... this agitated hunk dashing out. At least that left the door wide open. And she stepped in.

NaNo 2009 : The Life Not Lived

I came back the Pen to find Garrettwriter snickering and Dixie talking to a potted palm. I scratched my head. Was there a potted palm there yesterday? I didn't think so, but I couldn't be sure. Even if there was, I had no idea why Dixie would talk to it. In truth, I was a bit worried about her, but I didn't say anything. Just ordered a Black Russian and sat where I could keep an eye on her.

I felt a tickle on my hand and brushed it away. Something leaped across the table, and I took my eyes of Dixie and her conversational plant to see a small, shimmering green frog.

"Oh, I am so sorry," I said, picking up my muse and holding him tenderly. "And boy am I glad to see you. I have no idea what Im going to write."

The frog said nothing, just settled into my palm and closed his eyes, utterly content. I finished my drink and went home to pack for Florida, knowing that inspiration will come when it's ready.

Winner 2005: The Tribe of Palmetto Bay
Winner 2006: The Blue Light
Winner 2007: Fido
Winner 2008: Disappearance
Winner 2009: Comp Psi

http://cookingback2reality.blogspot.com/

The Smoking Pen! Kat meandered in. It felt like coming home - a home of mischievous, industrious and loving folk. Not for everyone, though; that hunk who nearly knocked her over in his rush to get away didn’t look pleased. Mischief was afoot, for sure. Ah, that’s the Pen. She unzipped her grey windbreaker, fluffed her silvery hair and gave Serge a wink as he handed her a large mocha. “Hey, there, Stranger.”

“Miss Kat, I must warn you that there have been some unusual occurrences.”

Kat rested a hand on his warm shoulder. “Thanks, Serge. I’ll take the cozy chair near the large potted palm. That should be a safe spot.”

Serge raised his dark eyebrows ever so slightly. “May I recommend a table by the fireplace instead?”

“Ah. Yes. Thank you, Serge.”

Kat waved and nodded greetings. She paused at Dixie’s table, to give her a hug and condolences. So many old friends, and new ones to meet. As she sat with her back to the fire, Serge placed a slice of lemon mousse cake in front of her, one sparkly candle aflame in the center.

“A bit late, I realize. But we weren’t here on Saturday.”

“You’re the best, Serge.”

He winked and strode on.

As she raised the first bite of cake, she froze. That potted palm tree moved. Wiggled! It seemed to know she was staring and stood there in innocence, as if to say, “Nah, plants don’t move.”

“It only has to be written. It doesn’t have to be perfect.” - Elizabeth Bear

Tree didn't wait for my answer to her question but got her drink and talked to her muse a bit and then left with a faraway look on her face. I studied the palms with some trepidation. It was dark in that corner. I looked around nervously. People were beginning to stare.

My old friend in crime Kat showed up and gave me a hug and warm greetings and found a comfy place to settle in. I waved to newcomer Dreamingon. It was always nice to see new faces in the Pen. They added their own part of the ongoing story that seemed to unwind like silken thread.

I finally moved away from the plants and really studied the room. Someone had moved the statue of Cliff Brooks to the opposite end of the room with several comfy chairs and sofas gathered around it. As I recall (and I have a copy of last years Pen post) the statue was designed to suck out smoke from the pipes and cigarettes of those writers who wanted to be here but had to have their smokes. It worked well but there was one time when someone sabotaged it. I smiled as I recall Mountain Bluebird settling on that upraised finger and singing her loveliest songs. I hadn't seen her around yet.

The koi pond had been filled in. After my muse Silk had been murdered in the pond, no one had seemed much interested in it. Additional tables had been added in that area and with all the new faces, it looked like we'd need it.

I glanced over to the baby grand piano and remember the blond pianista who'd also ended dead on the ivory. I shook my head. What a November that had been!

Remembering, I looked around. Agatha wasn't in sight. I'd managed to write her out and delete her last year but someone brought her back this year. My opinion was that the less we saw of the the Genre Specific Professional Muse- Retired (GSPM-R) and former head of the League of Professional Muses the better. She didn't have a good track record.

It was getting late and I needed a hot shower to take out the kinks. I didn't feel things were getting off to a good start for me but I had a couple of weeks to get into the groove. I hoped some ideas would come my way. My recent bouts of depression has stymied a lot of creativity but NaNo and friends had a way of cheering me up in the past.

I stood and waved to everyone. "See y'all later."

Waves around the room and "Good night, Dixie!" followed me.

Dixiegirl A Dixie Girl's Place
"May you be captured by a dozen ideas that you quickly convert to a good story."
2006: Untitled
2007: Shakedown - Winner
2008:The End of Winter - Winner

I stared wistfully at the Smoking Pen from the shadowed alley across the street. It had been so long since I'd been there. Last year, I'd hardly had time to poke my head in the door, but I'd heard rumors. Ugly rumors, with words like sabotage--and murder. Someone's muse, if I remembered correctly. Sad. But muses never really die; at least that's what mine always told me. Was he just trying to keep me from worrying about him?

The lights inside twinked. It looked so beautiful. I took a deep breath, imagining the cozy smells of brewing coffee and warm blueberry muffins inside, but all I smelled was the stench of the alley--stale urine and a dumpster overflowing with overripe bananas and rotting fish. Herring, I thought, wrinkling my nose. Probably the red kind. I ventured a few steps out of the shadows, then hesitated. Would my old friends remember me? Would I still be welcome?

A flyer on a nearby post caught my eye. It had a familiar design, much like the one Mer had posted when she'd lost a barnacle. I leaned forward for a closer look. What? Bruce was missing?

My nervousness forgotten in my fear for Bruce's safety, I started across the street without even looking both ways. They would be organizing a search party inside, and maybe I could help. The blast of a car horn sent me scurrying to the sidewalk, where I plowed head-first into a figure that looked remarkably like--

"Bruce!" I threw my arms around him and gave him a huge bear hug. "You're okay!"

He peeled my arms from around his neck and backed away, mumbling something under his breath. Hurt, I dropped my arms to my side and stared stupidly after him. Maybe he was angry with me for not spending more time here last year. Maybe he was disappointed that I hadn't gotten my purple bar. A loser, at 40,000 measely words. Maybe everyone else here would feel the same way.

But no. I knew them better than that. The Smoking Pen was a place of succor and comfort for all writers, a place where, if you struggled or even failed, they picked you up, dusted you off, and helped you find your way again. I wondered if Nina was there with her little green frog Muse. I wondered if Serge still made the best hot chocolate in town.

Only one way to find out. I took a deep breath and threw open the door. The bell jangled, and familiar faces--and a few new ones--turned to see who had come in. I saw smiles of welcome, and Serge came toward me with a steaming cup of cocoa in his hand.

"Whipped cream with a drizzle of chocolate," he said. "Welcome back."

The tension in my stomach melted. I was home. Smiling broadly, I took my cup and went to join my old friends and meet some new ones. There was a new tree in the corner; something rustled in it as I passed, but I didn't pay it much attention. Probably a shy little fiction fairy or plot pixie. It would come out when it was ready.

I hoped Bruce would get over being mad at me soon. When he came back, I'd try to patch things up. Funny thing, though. He hadn't even been wearing his clown shoes.

I waved to Bruce as he drove by in a big orange truck, then kept walking, thinking about what I would write this November. I turned a couple of corners and spotted Mer disappearing around the next one. I called and waved, but I guess she didn't hear me. That's when I spotted Nelly. She was crossing the street in a rather odd manner, zigging and zagging and looking at the ground, then she went into a bar I hadn't noticed before. I headed across the street to follow her in.

Hmmm, who's that guy that looks just like Bruce? He's being hugged by woman I don't recognize. Never mind. I'll just go in and see what Nelly's up to.

2006 SF: "Bella Transfigured"
2007 Mainstream: "Novena"
2008 SF/F: "Wanderer #1: The Oracle's Gifts"
2008 SF/F: "Wanderer #2: Sky Ships of Ciello"
2009 SF: completed: "Wanderer #3: Unsettled"
2009 Mainstream: in progress: "Reading in the Dark"

yawwwwwwwwwwnnnn -- coffeeeeee!!

OK---OK I'm baaaaaaack!

Looking across the sunroom where the plants have made it indoors - well all but two and those will have to wait til tomorrow - not going out in the RAIN to get them indoors! Cat's asleep on the bar-stool and the outdoor cats are in the shop hallway in the kitty hotel. Sorry full house there so any other outside cats will just have to double up in the boxes with their comfy blankies. Did I say I do not like cold rainy days... oh ya...

Had to get a new box of pens, my old one gave up the ghost - ie ran dry...after doodling around the pages of the latest notebook - real paper type notebook. Or maybe it was one of the grandkids who was using it last...alas they just don't make pens last much any more.

Got that new full circle Swiffer duster for those hard to get at places, so will try to finish dusting later. Right now gotta figure out why there is a leak around the stove pipe. Thought we'd sealed that already - oh well...

Will unpack the large coffee maker and restock the cups soon as I get that corner bar area cleaned off. Hmm may have to wait a couple days on that one - gotta pick the last of this year's garden produce as its supposed to freeze Sat night - hmm that means locating empty cardboard flats to set the tomatoes in, and something to put peppers in - dehydrator working on peppers picked earlier this week. Oh well....RL has its way with me.

==
Winning years starting in 03 and won every year since...hoping to do same this year!