  Short Stories
This week: Love, In a Knot Edited by: Leger~  
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The purpose of this newsletter is to help the Writing.com short story author hone their craft and improve their skills. Along with that I would like to inform, advocate, and create new, fresh ideas for the short story author. Write to me if you have an idea you would like presented.
This week's Short Story Editor
Leger~ |
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Oh, what a tangled web we...oh, wait.
Actually, this newsletter is about knots. One knot in particular, the love knot. Yep, it's that time of the year, when we tie ourselves in knots for the month of February, the month of love.
What is a love knot? It is a stylized or decorative knot used as a symbol of love. They can be tied of cord, rope or ribbon. Sailors once carried them as signs of love, to remind them of those left at home. Sometimes when funds or precious metals were not available a love knot was tied in a small cord as a substitute to exchange during marriage vows.
Generally the knot is tied to symbolized never-ending love. A "true lover's knot", not being true in the literal sense, is two overhand knots intertwined once and pulled against one another. A "Solomon's knot" or "lover's knot" is also a stitch in crochet. Celtic knots are not all love knots. Celtic knots all have different meanings, but some can be used as a "love knot". A simple version has two unbroken loops, twined and inseparable.
The Algerian love knot gained popularity when Vesper wore one on a necklace in the movie Casino Royale. This was one strand looped three times. Victorians were famous for their symbolism. Victorian love knots tended to be worn as brooches, often with different types of stones woven within. The type of stone also represented strength, love, or endearment. The Victorians also drew love knot valentines, with the message of love written within the knot, so the recipient hand to turn the paper to read it.
Perhaps a symbol of love can be woven into your next story; a delightful little gem to be discovered by your readers. Write on!
This month's question: Do you slip icons like the love knot into your stories? Send in your answer below!  Editors love feedback!
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Excerpt: Gabriel let out a long but low sigh and crept in bed. He inhaled deep enough to puff out his chest, waited for a few seconds, then exhaled. He repeated that in an attempt to steady his breaths. He then patted his flaccid manhood. A smile slid along his lips as he recalled that slimmer than an hourglass body glowing in front of the moonlight, her vanilla scent, her flamingo-like neck, dark hair, their quickening breaths--
Excerpt: The air coming down out of the Big Horns was crisp with the smell of snow. Leaning against the side of the battered Bronco, the sun felt good on her face, but it wouldn't be long before thermal underwear became part of her daily duty uniform. Vic Moretti shook her head; it was a long way from Philadelphia. She squinted over to where the Sheriff was standing with his hat in his hands trying to soothe one of Absaroka County's senior citizens. The woman standing in front of him only came to his broad shoulders, and that was with her standing on the porch. The belligerent jut of her jaw and the shot gun cradled in her spindly arms were great equalizers though. With her wizened face tanned by years in the sun, she looked like one of those apple core dolls the kids had been making at the school the other day.
"It doesn't matter if it's only buckshot. Don't shoot him."
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Excerpt: "That's where I met my Russell. Ahh, but he was a fine, strappin' boy back then. Soon as I seen him, I knew he had his cap set on me. Now, you wouldn't know it to look at me now, but I was quite the looker in those days. "
Excerpt: Beside me on the bench my bag shook, phone signalling a text. I didn't check, already knew it was another I-hate-you text from my daughter, Sophie. They'd been coming in at half-hour intervals, which was better than the ten-minute intervals of earlier this morning. I'd replied 'I'm sorry' several times but since that generally increased the barrage for a short time I preferred now to just let them build up unchecked.
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Excerpt: Danny had been with his mother for nearly three months, ever since his father’s Alzheimer’s had gotten bad. She had called him in Newark the day she got the doctor’s diagnosis. “Danny, your father, has severe Stage four Alzheimer’s, and you know I wouldn’t ask for your help if I didn’t need it. You father doesn’t even know me, most days.
Excerpt: That cold, crisp, Christmas Eve in Fairmount Park outside Philadelphia is a night I will never forget. It was on a small bridge over the raceway; a small creek running parallel to the river; that illuminated by the gas streetlights that lined the walkway. The light reflected off the ice covering the creek and sparkled with the fresh fallen snowflakes that settled, then quickly floated across the surface. The night air was magical, as I looked out across the Schuylkill River toward the old stone railroad bridge that spanned across it.
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Excerpt: Simon Kanner glanced at the tablet strapped to his arm, but it was still blank. He knew it would be blank, but the habit of looking at it was difficult to resist. He hated to waste time, to sit and do nothing, but even though he had only worked at Forge-Mendel for two weeks, he already knew he should not let Michael Forge come in and see him doing anything else. Forge had little tolerance for anyone who implied they had something better to do than meet with him.
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This month's question: Do you slip icons like the love knot into your stories? Send in your answer below! Editors love feedback!
Last month's question: How do you manage your time during busy parts of the year?
Bandersnatch  responded: It's easy to get caught up in the social media, especially during holidays. We naturally gravitate to our mailboxes and FB messages right off the bat to catch up on everything and see the latest video. My suggestion is to ignore all the logins and tabs and e-mails...No, not permanently, or even for a day. Just try going directly to your writing folder and jump into the unfinished story, or add something to that chapter in your novel. Give it 30 minutes minimum, then go check in with your public or correspondence. At least you'll have something writerly accomplished every day. If you are on a roll and time flies, stretch that into an hour or more. The public can wait.
Lyn's a Witchy Woman  replied: I book myself time everyday just like it was a doctor's appointment and I would be billed if I missed it. I don't answer the phone or the door. I simply ignore everything for that hour. The world will not stop, nor will I get that time back if I am not vigilant.
I look at my time as having as much value as a specialist, and I don't like wasting money so I stick to it. If you lack motivation, put a jar there and every time you miss writing time pay your jar. Donate the proceeds to your favorite charity.
Howler of the Moon reveals: As a young adult who is working on their senior year of high school and enjoying the holiday break, chances to write are pretty slim. When I do get in the mood to write, I jot down all of my ideas into a notebook I carry around.
Prosperous Snow celebrating  tells: I am 68 years old. I will be 69 years old on December 24 and I am still attempting to use my time productively. I list all my appointments and goals, both writing and other things, for each day. I don't always get everything completed, but I do get a few stuff accomplished. I still have cards and packages to send, which will go out sometime between December 21, 2015 and January 1, 2016.
brom21  said: For me, writing time varies during the holidays. This year I’ve only had to give a gift for my brother and my sister in law. I will be getting two presents; one from my mom and one my brother. I know that my bro will give me money already. I also believe I know what my mom will get me. Basically, I have tons of time to write. I’m lucky this year. Kudos and happy Christmas to all!
Cadie Laine - spooky eyed lady answered: This holiday season I am not worrying about doing a lot of writing. Yes getting some writing done during this time is important. I have come to the conclusion that if I make time to write, I write. If not then that is okay. I too have ideas popping out of my head and wonder if I might lose them in time. Somehow they stay there until they are received by paper or keyboard. Thank you for this newsletter.
vada sent: Usually not very well. This year, since our family Christmas won't be until well into January, I'm managing more time. In fact, this week I had two and a half days to go to my fav motel for uninterrupted writing time. I try to do this every 3-4 months and it's wonderful. Coming home to all the distractions, not so much. lol
Patrece ~ shows: When I get interrupted during a productive writing streak, I quickly review the ideas in my head, and hope to hold on to them. Then when I return to my writing, I bring back the thoughts I had going on when I was interrupted. I go back a few paragraphs, and read what I wrote previously, to get myself back "into" the scene.
John Nation responds: My kids are grown and out of the house. That frees up lots of obligations that kept me away from the keyboard. My wife and I have an understanding. Between 9:00 PM and 10:00 PM, I get to write. This arrangement lets me have time to myself to do what I enjoy most. Now the only obstacle remaining is me. Half the time my mind wonders to topics other than the story I want to concentrate on. Problems from work, from relatives, from friends, world events, next years election, all seem to want to compete with my desire to write. It was about 2 months ago I came up with a solution. For every 5,000 words I write, I reward myself with $10.00. Now These words are not counted until after editing and feedback from reviewers and then a 2nd editing. I save the money up and use it to buy whatever my little heart desires. I need about another 25,000 words and I will be able to acquire that new golf club bag I have wanted for years. For me, at this time, this works.
Thanks to everyone sending in a reply! I love shared ideas and perspectives.  |
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Short Stories: January 13, 2016 Issue [#7424]
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