All posts tagged: excerpt from new project

Fiction Friday: Excerpt from Zombie Road. Meet Evelyn.

Published by

By Leslie Lindsay The holidays are here and it sure is a busy season! Wait–you know that already. I’ve heard that Decemeber is notoriouly bad for agent submissions, so I’ve lightened my load a little by waiting to start the submission process in the new year.  Let me just say, while that burden has been lifted, it’s still hard getting into the writing groove.  Between planning family visits, the wrapping, shopping, and baking…writing has taken a backseat.  And then those pesky rejections just keep rolling through. It’s not that they are telling me I suck; on the contrary. “It’s a subjective business, and while the writing is good, it just didn’t resonate with me.” What with all of that going on, plus the hustle and bustle of everything else, this writer gal has been less motivated to crank out much of anything. Until yesterday.         Sure, I had to force my fingers to tap on the file that contained my next novel and *not* to peruse Amazon or TinyPrints, or the basset hound gift shop, but …

Fiction Friday: To Return, or Not to Return

Published by

By Leslie Lindsay Another piece from my novel-in-progress.  This is a section from a chapter in which a married woman is considering returning a long-lost book to a former boyfriend.  [Remember, it’s fiction.  Remember, it’s original.  If you like great–if you don’t, that’s okay too.  But please don’t claim as your own.  Thanks.  And enjoy reading it].          I could mail the book to Steve’s home.  I had his address, after all.  The solid-looking two-story presented itself in my mind’s eye.   The Estates of Cherrydale Farms.           I’d been there before.  I could go there again.  I wouldn’t have to see him.  I could just slip it into his mailbox or tuck it onto the threshold of the front door. It’s what any good friend or neighbor might do.  How many times had I returned a casserole dish to a neighbor in our own cul-de-sac, leaving it on her wicker bench sitting atop her front porch with a note of thanks, praising her culinary skills?  Or, the times I got a random itch to bake and …

Write on, Wednesday: Glimpse of Next Project

Published by

By Leslie Lindsay He propped his left arm up on the car door, resting it on the open window, his right hand draped languidly over the avocado green steering wheel.  Slouched down in the driver’s seat, the torn vinyl upholstery gaping in places, filling the openings with yellowed foam, he sucked in a deep breath, blew it out of his tighten lips as though he were smoking.  Grandma wouldn’t allow that in the car, not with us kids inside, anyway.  He cocked the bill of his baseball hat over his face slightly.  His bright blue, nearly translucent eyes squinted and looked up at the gray sky as the old car rumbled along the country road, “The fog’ll burn off,” he told us with utmost certainty.  I nodded, my chin quivered.  I hoped he was right.  Not only did I want a sunny day, I needed one. It was the middle of a nasty divorce for my parents.  They spat words at each other as if the other person was the devil incarnate.  My brother—a year …