All posts tagged: Slippery Slope

Fiction Friday: Excerpt from Slippery Slope

By Leslie Lindsay Combing back through that novel-in-progress–trimming, saving, adding–general revising.  Here’s one of the early chapters.  [Remember, this is a work of original fiction and is not intended to represent anyone living or dead.  It it a figment of the author’s imagination.  Borrowing or making your own is strictly prohibited.  Thanks for your understanding].  Enjoy! An excepert from Slippery Slope: “I married Joe for several reasons.  One, he asked me.  Two, he had good genes.  And perhaps three, I was in love.  With a mass of coiled PhD brains in his head, I knew he’d pass on intelligence, a trait 86% of the population finds valuable, along with a sense of humor, creativity, and problem-solving ability.  And so we made babies.  Two of them to be exact, at the preferred two-and-a-half year interval, enough time physicians believe a woman’s body has healed and returned to normal, and psychologists have determined is the “appropriate developmental spacing.”  But now I wonder, would Kenna and Madi’s sweet chatter somehow sound differently if they had been conceived with Steve, …

Fiction Friday: After-Effects

By Leslie Lindsay Slippery When Wet.  This is an excerpt from my novel-in-progress.  Woman has just done the deed with her first boyfriend…oh, but it’s many years later and she’s married to someone else.  So is he.  [original fiction.  Reproduction or sharing, or passing off as your own is strictly prohibited] “On January 3rd—about 11 days ago—I pulled into the garage.  The clock on the Sienna’s dash read 1:47a.m.           I smelled of Steve.  I inhaled deeply, the scent wafting through my nose, piercing my olfactory bulb and traveling through to my limbic system; the most primitative area of the human brain.  Our bodies are particularly adept at recalling these memories of smell.  But I worried someone else—Joe—would notice and not like it.  It was probably nothing.  My senses particularly heightened, my body in tune with Steve’s pheromones.          I relished in the thought.          In my mind, the clock turned back years; instead of walking back into my own house in Grove, IL where I was the parent—the wife—it was my childhood home following a date …

Fiction Friday: Breaking & Entering

By Leslie Lindsay Here we are at edge of Slippery Slope.  Our female protagonist is breaking into her first love’s home with his wife.  Oh…don’t do it!!  [original fiction.  Copying or reproducing is strictly prohibited].     “Steve?” I call out, my voice timid, unsure.         No answer.        “Hello?  Anyone home?”  The lights are on, the television blares, the puppy…he’s got to be here.         Numbers bloat out of my Steve?” I call out timidly, my voice squeaking. head, like pop-ups on a computer screen.  An orange eight.  Sixteen.  An aqua-blue twenty-four dances in front of me.  His address.         I stiffen as I glance around the house, removing my gloves.  I should leave.  This is wrong.  I wipe my hands down my pants.  Wetness develops under my arms.  I breathe out and try again, “Steve?  Are you here?   It’s me…Annie.”         The puppy barks.  A sharp squeak.   He leads me to the stairs.  I twist my head to the dining room as I pass by, noting the color on the wall.  Buttered yellow.  I …

Fiction Friday: Chasing After Illusions

By Leslie Lindsay Here we are back in Leslie’s novel, Slippery Slope.  Annie (female protagonist) is at the gym chasing after illusions.  Remember, this is an original work of fiction.  Please feel free to offer comments, feedback, etc. but don’t take as your own work.  Thanks–and enjoy!       I am back at the gym.  The dreaded treadmill; an artificial run.  The mechanics of the machine lifting itself up, clanging and cranking.  Feigning a hill.         Hot, rubbery legs.         Steve’s legs, long and lean reaching for my foot.  The other day.  Lunch.        I press the speed button several times—5.3 MPH.  A good, healthy jog.  My heart is pounding, but not because of the run. I didn’t sleep well last night.            Joe’s breath on the back of my neck.       See a therapist.  You’re not yourself.       Steve’s cocky grin.        I tossed and turned.  Thinking.  Dreaming.        Come back to me.       So much pent-up energy inside of my body.        I close my eyes briefly, my legs pounding the black rubber strip. …

Write On, Wednesday: Creating a World So Believable Your Critique Partners Think You’re Having an Affair

By Leslie Lindsay Last evening, I took my writing to the library critique group.  I have been going and sharing my work with this bunch of writers for about two years now.  I know most of the folks pretty well, even though it’s not an inclusive group–it’s constantly changing, as all good groups do. These writers are very familiar with the current story–well, novel–I am working on.  It’s title, “Slippery Slope.”  It wasn’t really intended to turn into a novel.  Heck, I never saw myself as a novelist…it sounds so fancy and grown-up.  But I knew I wanted to write.  There is a point of all of this:  I got some good feedback.  I got some ideas for revision.  I got some new thoughts, too.  Thank you, fellow writers.  But here is one thing I wasn’t expecting to hear:  “Oh my!  It sounds like you are really having an affair!”  Helllooo!!  My character is.  Emphasis on character. It’s an emotional affair at this point, but I think that still counts, huh?  (and no, I am not having …