Scene from my imagined life: I'm in a cafe, light rain drizzling outside, everyone shaking off umbrellas. Steam from my coffee rises between my hands. Dark-haired stranger catches my eye; we look away, slowly look back. Over shoulders. Between other people moving through the cafe. He gets his coffee and stands, awkward, blue scarf looped over his chest. A woman rushes in, brushing rain from her face. Smiles. They embrace, and I pretend to write in my notebook, trying to see him without looking up. Trying to figure out, in a desperate few seconds, if she's a sister or a lover. They make their way to the door.
He looks back one last time. I watch him leave, wait for my heart to start again. It does, with a thud.
If anyone ever says I'm a romantic, I will gut them with a plaster-of-Paris unicorn horn covered in obscene amounts of glitter.
If anyone ever tells me that my daydreams are mundane, unoriginal, hopeless and silly, I will agree.
My next scene: Bumping into dark-haired stranger at the library, where we reach for the same book.
See: "If anyone..." part two.
Remember when I tweeted that if just one person told me that they liked my work, got it, thought it was awesome, that I would be happy? Today is one of those days. I'm giddy. You'll see it soon, and maybe one of you will also like it. I don't think I'll die if you don't, though, so it's okay. You can find it trite. But remember that faux unicorn horn.
Now, someone please tell me how to end my epic short story that I have been working on for ONE YEAR. Please. The story is good, I promise. But how to end it? Maybe I'm afraid of ending it. The same goes for two other stories. This is a problem. Taking suggestions.
But not hugs. Please, anything but that.
R.S. Bohn -- Writer
Sunday, June 24, 2012
Wednesday, June 20, 2012
Beautiful Chaos!
Do you ever say, "I never win anything"? I do. But last week, I was happily surprised to find that I'd won a contest jointly held by Theme Fragrance and EcoShag.
From EcoShag, I received a gorgeous, luxurious handmade ocean blue infinity scarf -- which of course it's been far too hot to even consider wearing, but it's so beautiful.
And from Theme, I decided to choose something completely different than my usual scents: I chose Beautiful Chaos based on name alone. :)
Fresh, green woods blended with jasmine, a nice touch that takes the flowery scent to a more sophisticated level.
I already have Amuse and Sarong by Theme, and I have my eye on a few more scents. I'm highly impressed by Theme; the shipping is crazy fast, and not only are the perfumes handmade, but the packaging is sweet and she always includes little extras, such as gorgeous postcards, a sample of her handmade lip balm (to die for -- and I'm a lip balm junkie), and this time, a darling little hairpin with a purple flower. Also, I've got to say that while I previously ordered perfume sprays, this time I chose a roll-on, and I adore it. I'll stick with it in the future.
Thank you so much, Theme Fragrance and EcoShag. You really made my week.
*
In other news, I caved to the massive time-suck that is Pinterest and got an account. I've got barely anything on my boards, but if you want to check mine out -- and Pinterest in general -- here ya go.
I had already bookmarked six different Pinterest accounts that I checked out every couple of days, so I figured it would be easier to just sign up and follow them. :) Plus, now I'm looking for cool pins everywhere. It kind of reminds me of Deviant Art, in a way, as it resembles how I've got my faves collected over there. But you can't beat the way they're displayed on Pinterest.
All right. My new reward for writing is Pinterest -- no Pinterest unless I write xxx words! And blogging doesn't count. So I'm off like a prom dress.
Much love from the beautifully scented chaos girl herself,
RS
From EcoShag, I received a gorgeous, luxurious handmade ocean blue infinity scarf -- which of course it's been far too hot to even consider wearing, but it's so beautiful.
And from Theme, I decided to choose something completely different than my usual scents: I chose Beautiful Chaos based on name alone. :)
Fresh, green woods blended with jasmine, a nice touch that takes the flowery scent to a more sophisticated level.
I already have Amuse and Sarong by Theme, and I have my eye on a few more scents. I'm highly impressed by Theme; the shipping is crazy fast, and not only are the perfumes handmade, but the packaging is sweet and she always includes little extras, such as gorgeous postcards, a sample of her handmade lip balm (to die for -- and I'm a lip balm junkie), and this time, a darling little hairpin with a purple flower. Also, I've got to say that while I previously ordered perfume sprays, this time I chose a roll-on, and I adore it. I'll stick with it in the future.
Thank you so much, Theme Fragrance and EcoShag. You really made my week.
*
In other news, I caved to the massive time-suck that is Pinterest and got an account. I've got barely anything on my boards, but if you want to check mine out -- and Pinterest in general -- here ya go.
I had already bookmarked six different Pinterest accounts that I checked out every couple of days, so I figured it would be easier to just sign up and follow them. :) Plus, now I'm looking for cool pins everywhere. It kind of reminds me of Deviant Art, in a way, as it resembles how I've got my faves collected over there. But you can't beat the way they're displayed on Pinterest.
All right. My new reward for writing is Pinterest -- no Pinterest unless I write xxx words! And blogging doesn't count. So I'm off like a prom dress.
Much love from the beautifully scented chaos girl herself,
RS
Tuesday, June 12, 2012
Ohio Peeps!
Are you in Ohio? Would you like to meet me and buy me margaritas and/or Godiva truffles? You would? Oh, you crazy. ;)
Two things:
It appears I'll be part of a book signing in Cleveland, OH in mid- to late July for the anthology, "Etched Offerings: Voices from the Cauldron." The date is still being firmed up, so I'll let you know the details as it gets closer. In the meantime, here's a link to the book and an excerpt from my story, "The Black Oak":
Two things:
It appears I'll be part of a book signing in Cleveland, OH in mid- to late July for the anthology, "Etched Offerings: Voices from the Cauldron." The date is still being firmed up, so I'll let you know the details as it gets closer. In the meantime, here's a link to the book and an excerpt from my story, "The Black Oak":
This
was the realm of the Mother, the heart of a forest that had once lain its body
across thousands of acres. The magnificent kingdom now poached into tatters,
chopped by asphalt, with precious few bits reserved for those who brought their
children to see its hawks or to walk in the quiet with all that had lived here
for ages. It was a heart closely guarded, kept unto itself.
A heart fiercely protective of what little
it still had.
Second, Context is a writers' convention happening at the end of September in Columbus, OH. It's for anyone interested in sci-fi, fantasy, horror, speculative fiction, anime, manga... You get the idea. The price is great for a convention, and the list of workshops is awesome. The editors of Misanthrope Press (publishers of Etched Offerings) will be there, and I hope that some of you will be, too. If not, I'll just make new friends.
My stomach just flipped writing that. The truth is, I've got serious social anxiety. But I keep trying, even though my hermit ways want me to stay home and never talk to anyone but on the computer. :)
All right, I've got two stories to finish this week, so I'm off like a prom dress. See ya around, peeps.
PS Misanthrope Press has also published two other anthologies recently, one of werewolf stories, and another with dark forest tales. Check them out, too.
PS Misanthrope Press has also published two other anthologies recently, one of werewolf stories, and another with dark forest tales. Check them out, too.
Thursday, June 7, 2012
Microfic: digging; and brief thoughts on Ray Bradbury
digging
Dirty paws turn me to jelly. I watch his bulldog digging up the rosemary while he talks of mortgages. “Hey,” I say, “want to go inside?” But he’s still talking about interest rates and terms when we go in, and the dog is still swinging away in the sun, too far away, beyond the sliding glass patio doors.
*
Ray Bradbury died. Of course, my favorite story of his is "The Veldt." Or maybe it's, "Boys! Grow Giant Mushrooms in Your Basement!" That's actually one of the scariest stories of all time.
Or maybe my favorite is any one of those where people have come to Mars, found the remains of a civilization, and moved into it as if they could ever inhabit it. As if the Martians have truly gone.
The Martians are never gone. If you don't believe me, cut open your chest and look inside.
I don't like Fahrenheit 451, except for the end, particularly the movie ending, where we see people walking around in a shady forest just beyond the reach of society, hands behind their backs, repeating to themselves over and over the particular book they've memorized.
I would memorize Jane Eyre, but everyone will memorize that, so it should probably be something else. Something less known or less loved. Loren Eisley's The Immense Journey, which I've reviewed here before.
I have already memorized the short note that Mr. Bradbury wrote to me when replying to my fan letter in the early 1990s. That will always stay with me.
And I will always be wishing for one more story, Mr. Bradbury.
With love,
Rebecca
Dirty paws turn me to jelly. I watch his bulldog digging up the rosemary while he talks of mortgages. “Hey,” I say, “want to go inside?” But he’s still talking about interest rates and terms when we go in, and the dog is still swinging away in the sun, too far away, beyond the sliding glass patio doors.
*
Ray Bradbury died. Of course, my favorite story of his is "The Veldt." Or maybe it's, "Boys! Grow Giant Mushrooms in Your Basement!" That's actually one of the scariest stories of all time.
Or maybe my favorite is any one of those where people have come to Mars, found the remains of a civilization, and moved into it as if they could ever inhabit it. As if the Martians have truly gone.
The Martians are never gone. If you don't believe me, cut open your chest and look inside.
I don't like Fahrenheit 451, except for the end, particularly the movie ending, where we see people walking around in a shady forest just beyond the reach of society, hands behind their backs, repeating to themselves over and over the particular book they've memorized.
I would memorize Jane Eyre, but everyone will memorize that, so it should probably be something else. Something less known or less loved. Loren Eisley's The Immense Journey, which I've reviewed here before.
I have already memorized the short note that Mr. Bradbury wrote to me when replying to my fan letter in the early 1990s. That will always stay with me.
And I will always be wishing for one more story, Mr. Bradbury.
With love,
Rebecca
Wednesday, June 6, 2012
Antiquing in Purgatory
My ringtone -- Make it so!
This is the most fabulous thing ever. EVER.
BTW, I have not yet seen the season finale of GoT, so don't say anything about it. We'll be watching tonight, I do believe, if B can be dragged away from smoking an Ashton in the garden. He does love his Ashtons.
We didn't see the finale because we've been gone on a little break. We went to Bay City, MI and stayed at the Historic Webster Inn. One of the most memorable experiences we've had, absolutely superb from the exquisite breakfasts to the homemade cookies we found on our bed each night. We stayed in the Magistrate Room, chosen for its skylights. I've got a secret love of skylights, and to be able to sleep under two of them (there were four total in the room) was a delight. A DELIGHT.
(The other couple staying at the Inn said everything was a "delight, superb, exquisite," at all times. We couldn't figure out if they were genuine or found themselves a hoot. I'm inclined to believe that the gentleman, at least, thought himself hilarious. He had that clean-cut, preppy college look and attitude which suggests one comes from a privileged background and finds amusement in the toiling of others)
Other than eating cookies and staring up at the sky? Well, we drove/meandered around, scoured antique shops for their most bizarre items, and looked at houses. And what, you ask, was the most bizarre item we found?
Not the album cover with two 70's dorky lovebirds next to the huge letters proclaiming, "IT'S CALLED LOVE." Not even close.
The unintentionally satanic Mr. and Mrs. Snowman that freaked the hell out of us when we came upon them on a shelf? Nope. (Unintentional? One wonders...)
What about the 1891 wedding photo of two people that I am POSITIVE are actually aliens?
No.
It's this:
Someone had the vision -- the vision -- to create a series of three-foot-tall scenes depicting barn animals getting ready for Christmas.
Using actual animals.
I have to wonder if they thought creating a Nativity scene with taxidermied donkeys and sheep was crossing the line, or just too much work. The scale, you see. And where would they get a baby Jesus?
So they used little hens and baby goats and for the sheep -- those lucky sheep! -- just wool glued to a black sheep form. And lots of little yellow fluffball chicks. Those damned chicks were in every scene. Helping make the popcorn garland. Stringing lights on the tree. Getting in the way of the sheep's knitting. Tucked under the enormous fake plastic icicles that looked like Yeti snot.
It was a magical interlude in our lives, friends. How we wish you could all have been there to share it. Here are two of the sheep, one sitting upon the other's head in order to reach the highest plastinated branches of the tree. Almost all the pictures I took with my camera phone but this one came out with some sort of fog over them. As if the spirits thought I was the one finding inappropriate amusement in their domain.
This is the most fabulous thing ever. EVER.
BTW, I have not yet seen the season finale of GoT, so don't say anything about it. We'll be watching tonight, I do believe, if B can be dragged away from smoking an Ashton in the garden. He does love his Ashtons.
We didn't see the finale because we've been gone on a little break. We went to Bay City, MI and stayed at the Historic Webster Inn. One of the most memorable experiences we've had, absolutely superb from the exquisite breakfasts to the homemade cookies we found on our bed each night. We stayed in the Magistrate Room, chosen for its skylights. I've got a secret love of skylights, and to be able to sleep under two of them (there were four total in the room) was a delight. A DELIGHT.
(The other couple staying at the Inn said everything was a "delight, superb, exquisite," at all times. We couldn't figure out if they were genuine or found themselves a hoot. I'm inclined to believe that the gentleman, at least, thought himself hilarious. He had that clean-cut, preppy college look and attitude which suggests one comes from a privileged background and finds amusement in the toiling of others)
Other than eating cookies and staring up at the sky? Well, we drove/meandered around, scoured antique shops for their most bizarre items, and looked at houses. And what, you ask, was the most bizarre item we found?
Not the album cover with two 70's dorky lovebirds next to the huge letters proclaiming, "IT'S CALLED LOVE." Not even close.
The unintentionally satanic Mr. and Mrs. Snowman that freaked the hell out of us when we came upon them on a shelf? Nope. (Unintentional? One wonders...)
What about the 1891 wedding photo of two people that I am POSITIVE are actually aliens?
No.
It's this:
Someone had the vision -- the vision -- to create a series of three-foot-tall scenes depicting barn animals getting ready for Christmas.
Using actual animals.
I have to wonder if they thought creating a Nativity scene with taxidermied donkeys and sheep was crossing the line, or just too much work. The scale, you see. And where would they get a baby Jesus?
So they used little hens and baby goats and for the sheep -- those lucky sheep! -- just wool glued to a black sheep form. And lots of little yellow fluffball chicks. Those damned chicks were in every scene. Helping make the popcorn garland. Stringing lights on the tree. Getting in the way of the sheep's knitting. Tucked under the enormous fake plastic icicles that looked like Yeti snot.
It was a magical interlude in our lives, friends. How we wish you could all have been there to share it. Here are two of the sheep, one sitting upon the other's head in order to reach the highest plastinated branches of the tree. Almost all the pictures I took with my camera phone but this one came out with some sort of fog over them. As if the spirits thought I was the one finding inappropriate amusement in their domain.
next Christmas, I want to sit on someone's head while decorating the tree! wait, did I say that aloud?
Good day, Sirs and Madams!
Monday, May 28, 2012
Aphids Aren't The Worst
Previous post was an attempt to collect my links in one place and organize them, as part of my Clean Up Your Fucking Internet weekend. It's all part of a plan! So sorry if you clicked and ended up shaking your head in confusion.
Here's a tragedy for you: When I was a teenager, I started a small rose garden. It was in honor of my mother, who loved roses and had planted them all over our former property. After she died, my father remarried and we moved, and none of the rose bushes were dug up and brought with us. To this day, when I go back home, I still drive by our old house and stop to look at her roses. They are incredibly beautiful.
That's not the tragic part. Here it is: There were six rosebushes in varying colors at the new house. When I was eighteen and had graduated from high school, I got sick of my father's totalitarian, despotic ways (hey, I was a teen and pissed off, as eighteen year olds are wont to do). So I did what any dissatisfied, grumpy with the establishment teen does: I put all my shit in two big garbage bags and moved out. I worried about who would take care of the rose bushes, but hey, I had to go.
When my dad and stepmother found out, they were pretty dissatisfied and pissed off, too. My dad took it stone-faced and silently angry.
My dear stepmother mowed down all the rosebushes.
My sister told me, and she provided updates; basically, that the roses never grew back and that I wasn't welcome at the house anymore.
I still see them in my mind's eyes. Two rows, three bushes each, like a little grave plot.
Okay, so that's a bit much, but you get how I feel about that event.
It's been more than twenty years, and I still get pissed off when I think about it.
Now today, I'm going to have myself a mojito and sit outside and look at the first rose I've planted at our house. It's bright yellow, which I like, and it'll go good with the lavender. I've got a lot of that.
I'm not sure how you heal the past, and I'm more inclined to think it's like a shiny scar. Which is not a bad thing.
Enjoy your day or evening, wherever you are, friends.
Published Works
101 Fiction: Only (microfic)
Renaissance (microfic)
Interlude (microfic)
Hijo (microfic)
Stages (microfic)
Chicken (microfic)
Jump (microfic)
Flight (microfic)
'Aumakua (microfic)
Regeneration
Unlucky
Alban Lake Publishing, Bloodbond: In the Northern Territories -- werewolves!
Chris Allinotte's 9 Days of Madness: Recording
Renaissance (microfic)
Interlude (microfic)
Hijo (microfic)
Stages (microfic)
Chicken (microfic)
Jump (microfic)
Flight (microfic)
'Aumakua (microfic)
Regeneration
Unlucky
Alban Lake Publishing, Bloodbond: In the Northern Territories -- werewolves!
Chris Allinotte's 9 Days of Madness: Recording
A Minor Magazine: Snakeskin
A Twist of Noir: Daughter of Peaches (microfic)
Corner Club Press (originally, now defunct), DA: The Husband (short story, speculative fiction--Sudoku, drumming, and, er, friendliness)
DA: An October Birth (a Daily Deviation winner in October 2014; horror)
DA: An October Birth (a Daily Deviation winner in October 2014; horror)
Eaten Alive: Gangrene (microfic)
Erin Cole's 13 Days of Madness: Oddity (microfic)
Golden Visions Magazine: The Librarian's Assistant (flashfic, fantasy)
"The Librarian's Assistant" was also a Daily Deviation on Deviant Art and winner of the
"Picture is Worth a Thousand Words" contest
Lily Child's February Femmes Fatales: The Devil Wants a Word
Luna Station Quarterly: "Fox-Boy" and others here (microfic/drabbles, speculative fiction)
MiCrow #4: Spaces
Misanthrope Press: Etched Offerings anthology: The Black Oak (pagan, fantasy)
Sleep.snort.fuck: At Sea (nsfw)
The Lorelei Signal: Instrument of Fate (fantasy, short story)
Three-Lobe Burning Eye: Judith of the Lions (apocalyptic fic w/ special guests, zombie lions)
Thrillers, Killers, 'n' Chillers: Under the Boardwalk
Thrillers, Killers, 'n' Chillers: Under the Boardwalk
Title Goes Here, Issue 7: Itch (horror, short story)
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