Friday, July 7, 2017


As you may have guessed, Yoda poetry is poetry written the way Yoda speaks--and it's harder to write than you might think.  This is my first (and so far, only, attempt).

Blowing through the clear blue sky cotton candy clouds are.
Shining on my face warm sunlight is.
With each step in the soft green grass I take,
Tickle my toes it does.
©  2017 Teresa Kander 

Wednesday, July 5, 2017

Story Fragment #14: Write a script scene of two people in conflict

The voice actor for a popular children's show has died, and the two characters in this scene are auditioning for the role.

Character #1: Gerry
Thinks Penelope is an entitled princess
Is sleeping with the show's producer
Wants to be successful to show up his twin brother, a writer on the show.

Character #2: Penelope
Thinks Gerry will ruin her father's legacy
Daughter of previous voice actor
Wants to win an award

Scene: Reception area outside producer's office. P sitting in a chair, waiting to audition, along with numerous others.
G enters and takes last remaining chair, next to P.?

P:  Oh no--MUST you sit there?
G: Believe me, Princess, if there were any other seats available, I'd want to be as far away from you as possible.
P: Fine. Just sit there and don't talk to me then. I can't believe you'd even show your face at this audition.
G: Me? What about you? I suppose you think that Daddy's little girl should just get the role handed to her?
P: Of course not--I'm banking on my talent, unlike you, who has to try to sleep his way to the top.
G: My relationship with Lily had nothing to do with it. I'm obviously the better choice to be the new Puddy Numkin.
P: Oh please! I've been preparing for this role my whole life--listening to Dad rehearse and talk about his motivation. I know this little cuddle bug inside and out--what do YOU know about him?
G: I know this role will be the key to the rest of my career. Kids love the little furball, and I'll be famous as his voice--and then the offers for other work will start pouring in...hopefully something a little less juvenile!

P gawks open-mouthed as the receptionist calls G in to read.

Monday, July 3, 2017

Story Fragment #13: Jean-Paul

Jean-Paul Robillard arrived at the lush penthouse apartment of his client, Hank Atkins, precisely at 10 am, just as he had done every morning for the last six months.

"Cuddles!" he called out. Are you ready for zee morning stroll?"

A fuzzy black toy poodle sped toward him, coming out of a door Jean-Paul knew led to Hank's study.

"Naughty girl--you know Hank doesn't allow you in zhere," Jean-Paul chided as he approached her with her leash.

Rather than meekly sitting at his feet, as was her usual custom, Cuddles turned and ran back into the study with a loud bark.

"No games this morning, Cuddles--I have a schedule to keep. Let's get going, non?"

As soon as he entered the study, Jean-Paul's bright blue eyes widened at the scene. Cuddles was pacing back and forth along the length of her owner's body, which lay in front of his desk. Jean-Paul couldn't discern Hank's injuries, but there was enough blood on the beige carpeting to make it obvious they were serious.

The Frenchman reached into his jacket pocket, intending to pull out his phone and call 911, but instead he felt a sharp pain in the back of his head just before everything went black.

When he came to a few minutes later--or he assumed it was just a few minutes, at least--he noticed a fireplace poker that had been left on the floor next to him, and surmised that was the weapon which had been used to render him unconscious. As soon as he could sit up without the room spinning, he made the 911 call. While he waited for help to arrive, he searched the apartment for Cuddles, but she appeared to have vanished along with his attacker, whom he presumed to all be the person who had injured Hank.

Friday, June 2, 2017

Story Fragment #12: P.T. O'Malley

P.T. O'Malley, the best-selling horror writer, flew through the door of the small town library at five minutes before two o'clock.

"Sorry I didn't get here sooner," she apologized to Melinda Lovejoy, the librarian. " I was working on the new book, and time just slipped away."

"Not a problem," Melinda assured her. "We're just about ready to start, and you already know the routine, so go ahead and take your seat at the table."

P.T., whose real name was Bella Chrisman, quickly took the remaining seat at the table, where she found herself sandwiched between Constance Newsome, director of the local animal shelter, and Patrick Kramden, church custodian and local gravedigger. What an interesting combination of judges, P.T. thought to herself.

At precisely 2 pm, Melinda walked up to the microphone and began to speak. "Good afternoon, everyone, and welcome to our first annual feline beauty contest."

Thursday, June 1, 2017

100 Days Of Self-Exploration: Day Seventeen--What Is A Positive Memory That Stands Out From Your Childhood?

Just one? That's a tough choice. I have so many wonderful childhood memories, particularly with my maternal grandparents and my numerous cousins on that side of my family.

I remember Sunday afternoons when relatives would drop in at Granny and Grandpa's house at whatever time was convenient...we'd eat, talk, play, listen to America's Top 40, etc.

I remember holidays when everyone knew food would be on the table at noon, and we all tried our best to be there by then.

I remember New Year's Eve when an entire group of cousins would spend the night together. We'd watch New Year's Rockin' Eve, I'd get teased about my crush on Barry Manilow (who was part of the yearly tradition back then), and then we'd watch horror movies all night long, or until we all fell asleep in front of the television.

I remember "fair week" when Granny would have a bunch of us staying with her for the entire week---working in the house, garden and/or yard during the day to earn our way to the county fair every evening and all day on "kids day."

And those are just a few highlights off the top of my head!!

Wednesday, May 31, 2017

Story Fragment #11: Marguerite

Marguerite exited the shuttle craft uncertainly, looking around at the unfamiliar terrain. "Are you sure this is the proper location?" she asked the pilot.

"Yes, ma'am--the outpost you're looking for is right at the top of that hill," the pilot responded. "Matter of fact, here comes the ATV that will transport you."

Now Marguerite began to feel excited again. After the long journey from Earth to Sabrah, and the shuttle ride from the main settlement to this outpost, she was just a quick ATV ride from her final destination and, hopefully, the answers she had been seeking.

As she climbed into the ATV, the driver asked: "Are you here to see The Master?"

"Of course," she snapped. "Does anyone come to this God-forsaken  place for other reasons?"

"Well, some of us just enjoy the solitude," the driver replied quietly. "Those of us who live here tend to give each other plenty of space, no pun intended."

Chagrined, Marguerite sat silently for the rest of the short ride over the smooth orange sandy ground. Even though the entire planet was covered with an atmospheric bubble, she knew that most of the areas which were not colonized remained in their original condition. It still surprised her to see barren land, however, having come from the stifling overpopulation of Earth.

Tuesday, May 30, 2017

100 Days Of Self-Exploration: Day Sixteen-- What Is Something You Regret Doing? Is It Affecting You To This Day?

I don't believe in regretting things. Everything that has happened in my past, both good and bad, has worked together to make me the person I am today. Any actions of mine which may have harmed another person in any way, I have apologized and tried to make amends, so there is no need for regret. There are some of those actions which still impact me to this day, but I wouldn't change them for the world.