All posts tagged: writing sample

Fiction Friday: Back to the Beginning. Annie & Synesthesia

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By Leslie Lindsay I may have finished the manuscript, but now I am going back in and adding–well–color, depth, bringing the darn thing alive.  Here’s a flashback which stands as a prologue (for now), and gives some glimpse into Annie’s inner mind.  Annie 18 years ago Senior Year “With the school day now behind me, I pace in front of the post office, another job I couldn’t possibly do.  Too many numbers and letters.  They would all be screaming at me in color.  My planner is filled with assignments—busy-work, mostly—they try to keep us seniors engaged in the spring time.  Spring Fever, they call it.  I’m on to their game.  A gentle breeze floats past, all tangerine swirls and warm vanilla.  I inhale deeply, expecting the smell of an orange sickle.  Nothing.  This time, I see only the breeze.  Next to the post office is Dr. Frick’s office.  A hard, splintery name.  Frick.  As in “what the frick is this about?”  Her voice is gritty and rumbling, her face worn.  She looks like a frick.  …

Fiction Friday: From Work-in-Progress, Prom Night

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By Leslie Lindsay Hey all–it’s fiction Friday and this is from my novel-in-progress, “Slippery Slope.”  This scene is actually a flashback from a high school prom night.  I’d appreciate your thoughts on the authenticity of the scene, it’s point-of-view told by a guy (now grown, but at the time, about 17, 18 years old).  [Remember, this is an original work by the author/blogger.  It is not intended to be represent anyone, similarieties are coincidental, and work of the writer’s imagination].  Here goes:         There was a huge rainstorm the night of prom.  Had to have been eleven o’clock or so as we were leaving the dance and I was driving her back to her parent’s home in the suburbs.  Mom had loaned me her car that night.  It was nicer than mine.  I parked it about a quarter of a mile from her house, “Let’s run in the rain,” I said.           Annie looked at me like I was crazy, “In my prom dress?”  It was as much a statement as a question.           “Yeah.  It’s …

Fiction Friday: Dream Lady

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By Leslie Lindsay  “Dreams are illustrations from the book your soul is writing.”  –Marsha Norman (image retrieved from fanpop.com on 7.20.12, under “dream images”) There is something so intrinsically intriguing about the dream world.  Here’s a little sampling of a novel that is floating around inside my brain.  It’s no where near fully formed…but someday, maybe in the next 10 years or so, you’ll see this book on the shelves.  [Remember, this is an orginal work of fiction.  It is not intended to represent any individual–living or dead.  Please do not take this work as your own.  It is for entertainment purposes only]. “I don’t dream,” she tells me with utmost certainty, her long—nearly black—hair swinging from her shoulders. I cock my head and furrow my brow.  Not dream?  How is that even possible? Christine pops a piece of gum into her mouth, fingers the foil pack—which I notice is mostly empty. “I guess I dream,” she corrects herself, “but I just don’t remember them.”  I suck in a deep breath.  That’s better.  We all …