I just got to thinking and maybe this month we can choose a topic and when I make the forum for the meeting we can take that whole week and add our idea to the forum and then sort of fit the pieces into a nice story during the meeting. Could be fun!

I'd also like to start one to two sentence stories or poems that we can write during the meetings. Just some thoughts... less

OH also before I forget and Stormy has to prod me in the buttocks...we are going to be doing a series of workshops in collaboration with SexIs. The workshops will be aimed at improving writing skill, choosing appropriate topics and writing non-fiction. We'll also be offering a few workshops on writing fiction if the interest is there to support the effort! So if you have been wanting to submit some work to SexIs magazine but are unsure what at to write about or even how to write it stay tuned! less

Ok I'll begin this shin dig:

Champagne Dellarose knew that her parents were hopeless. Look at the name they had hung around her neck when she was too small to properly protest! With a last name like Dellarose ANY name was going to sound like it belonged in a trashy romance novel. having a mother that actually wrote trashy romance novels made the whole moniker a cruel joke.
For this reason Cham was changing her name just as soon as she was financially able to! She had tried to live with it. She had tried "Page" but people started calling her "Pagne". It would have been ok if it didn't sound like "Pain". So Cham it was...just like her life. A big old hollow sham. She was nearly 20 years old and had never been kissed despite the best efforts of her overly romantic minded mother.

Cham stood in the grocery aisle looking sourly at the newest offering from the mind of her mother. it was a sappy sob story about a wild west heroine who just needed a rugged cowboy type to sweep in and make everything all better. Cham was sure that bodices were going to be ripped and set ablaze all described in flowery overly sensationalized words. Who actually read this crap? less

Cham turned away from the swiveling display. When she reached the deli line, all the other customers eyed her, then shifted slightly, but noticeably away from the invisible storm cloud gathering in her thoughts.

"I know what you mean," said a man behind her. "Romance novels, right? Sorry, I don't mean to pry. I saw you looking at the books. Your face hasn't changed since you left the rack."

Cham turned, prepared to tell the man to mind his own business, but stopped short. He was in his late 20's, dressed in a dark suit with a curiously bright yellow tie, black glasses, and polished shoes. His eyes were a slivery blue that stood out under his dark brow. This man that stood before her was clearly intelligent. She didn't know how she knew that, but something about him betrayed an easy personality with a mind that was always at work.

"It was one of my mother's books," she said. Easy, safe, unoffensive.

"Oh? Your mother reads those?" He raised his eyebrows.

Cham knew exactly what he was thinking. He was trying to size her up. How much of a catch could she be if her mother read romance novels?

"No, she writes them. That is, literally, one of her books." Cham immediately covered her face. She didn't want him thinking that her mother read those books, but writing them is so much better?

"Sometimes, they're quite good," the man said. "Sometimes they are a guilty pleasure of mine. Mind you, most of the time they are crap, but occasionally..." His voice trailed off and he waved his hand in the air.

"Does your wife mind you reading her books?"

"Not married. No girl friend, either, if that's your next question. Completely unattached."

Cham shifted her weight. "Are you hitting on me?"

"That depends," the man said. "Do you want to be hit on?"

"NEXT!" called the deli manager, and everyone moved up a step. Cham was silent for a minute, pretending to study the lunch meats before her turn came.

"I'm pretty sure they warned me against men like you in school," Cham muttered.

"'Never let school get in the way of your education.' Albert Einstein."

"Did you just quote Einstein to me?"

"Would you rather me quote Feynman?"

Cham's eyes went wide. She almost felt like her pupils dilated in awe of this man. "You know Feynman?"

"I do," he said. An easy, comfortable smile crossed his face. "Marshall. Marshall August," he said, holding out his hand. "Look, this is going to sound corny, and perhaps a little crazy, but there's something in you I like. Here's my card. It has my cell phone number. If you want to get together and talk more about Feynman and Einstein over, say, dinner...or coffee?..give me a call. No pressure."

Cham stared at the card. Wow, she thought. Just wow. less

His name is Drake Shepherd,
the love of my life.
I knew when I saw him
I'd soon be his wife.

He turned to me
with a gleam in his eye,
he put out his hand
and said "I'll be your guy."

I grabbed his hand
and he led me to the floor.
We dance all night,
but it felt like much more.

The feeling in my stomach
so amazing and strong.
Could he be the one
I've been searching for all along? less