A peak into my neuroses...

Okay, so I haven’t posted in a week because I’m stuck on last Tuesday’s PrompTuesday and I feel like I can’t post anything else until I post for PrompTuesday (I promised myself I would do every single prompt). This is a bummer because there were other things I wanted to post, but wouldn’t because of my necessity to post for PrompTuesday. For example – anyone watch Grey’s Anatomy? Last Thursday’s episode – the patient who when she has a headache she thinks it’s a brain tumor, or feels lumps in her breasts then her heart begins to race and she thinks she is having a heart attack – that’s me *head hung low* That is totally 100%, my husband said “That’s you hunny!”, all me. Okay I digress.

There is another Prompt tomorrow and I still have not posted last Tuesdays. I don’t know why I post some then get self conscious and can’t bring myself to hit the publish button at other times. Can you say neurotic? I’ll bet you already have after reading that first paragraph. Unfortunately, I did it again - I wrote something up and felt silly about putting it up. Sandiegomomma thinks she’s insecure? You ain’t got nothing on me sister!! Do you know why we all love you? Because you put it all out there. You give us a glimpse into what some of us sometimes think and feel, but we don’t want to put it out there. We fricken love that you do it because we can relate. I’m going to try to put it out there from now on. Okay, again, I digress.

I have spent the last week hemming, hawing, editing, changing this word, moving that sentence…I know, I know...the rules say you’re supposed to write in 10 minutes or less…blah…blah…blah, but she said screw the rules (okay maybe once), but she still said it and I’m running with that because there is no way I can do this in 10 minutes. I really want to write well. I love how writers can turn a tree into an animal, the wind human, or make an inanimate object come alive. It’s awesome and inspiring. I want to learn to do that and there is no time for a class at this particular juncture so I’m gonna need some instruction from you, my millions of readers. I want some constructive criticism. Anybody up for it? When I write stories I feel like it is contrived, forced, doesn’t seem natural, as if I’m trying too hard and it's obvious and that’s not good writing. I would like any and all offers of what I can do to improve my stories. C’mon be harsh. Tell me to give it up if you feel that way, anything…I need guidance from some of you really awesome writers!

So here is my submission from last week’s PrompTuesday.

Write a story about someone faking a skill to gain the attention of someone else, which only forces him/her into a situation where s/he must use this skill in order to save him/herself from a bigger threat. Include:
a cast-iron lamp and two nuns giggling in the corner.

Swinging

She walked in from outside with her flowing cape bellowing in after her. Thankfully her nervousness was camouflaged by the lasting effects of the shivering cold. A podium with a cast iron lamp stood at the doors of the party with the guests names listed, and she scanned it for her name. Upon entering the dim and smoky atmosphere she found a construction worker slugging a beer. There was a collective light coming from eight adjacent rooms to this one large room, which allowed her to catch sight of him where he was waiting just outside one of the rooms. While she made her way in his direction she glanced to her right and saw a firefighter sharing drinks with two giggling nuns in the corner. Nuns? Some fantasy, she thought. Looking around she found that not everyone was wearing a costume and she felt foolish that she was dressed in one, but he told her to wear one for anonymity.

She had heard of swinging, but had never been to a swing party. At this point it was too late to back out so she had to fake it as best she could. The threat of losing him was at stake and she had to give it a shot. She wanted to show him that she was fun and willing to give anything a try, just like she said. Who knows, maybe she would like it then again maybe she wouldn’t. What she did know was that she was drowning in regret.

As she approached him he stood and kissed her. His eyes were questioning her body language and apprehension, but she continued to fake it and lit up her face with a big smile. With his right hand he reached out and grasped hers as he wrapped his left arm around her body enveloping her in a warm embrace. He led her into the small room with another couple and released the curtain so it would fall closed behind them.