It is my pleasure to share a guest post from author Allison A. Spector
I Write Because I’m a Middling Actor
I write because I’m a middling actor. Other people’s words have a strange taste, and they don’t sit well in my mouth. They come out garbled, regurgitated, and unconvincing. I prefer to speak my own.
I write because my gait is awkward and my legs and clumsy and if I tried to dance, I would certainly trip over your shoes. But if I scribble my thoughts on a napkin at the table as I watch you dance, you’ll know I was enjoying myself.
I write because it takes days, weeks, months for me to draw, paint, or sketch anything half as powerful as the poems I can whip up with a flick of my fingers in a few minutes, or hours.
I write because even though I feel awesomely beast when I play the electric uke—I don’t think my neighbors, or cats, appreciate the melodic screeching.
I write because words fill my heart, and dance in my brain, and flow with colors and sound, and vibration.
I write because in writing I am able to breathe, able to think, able to dream.
I write because when I write, my soul flutters with happiness.
I write because you’re reading these words.
Right here, right now.
And I thank you.
by Allison A. Spector
GENRE: Humor, literary fiction, with elements of magical realism
Trouble’s brewing in the Evergreen Jungle. When controversial author Rex Jupiter plans a visit to a Bellingham bookstore, news of his arrival attracts the attention of the mysterious Paladin, who plans on leading a mob of rioting housewives against him. But the Paladin has competition. Sleuth-extraordinaire Marian Krause has her own bone to pick with Jupiter as she scrambles to solve the death of a woman who has stolen her identity. Rex may think he has the situation under control, but when the wrath of the local Druids is incurred, pitchforks and torches may be the least of his concerns.
“You…you saved me!” Phil stammered in disbelief. His head reeled with delirium as he stared at the wiry, tanned, vaguely mustachioed, brown-haired girl with the interconnected eyebrows, and he immediately thought of a young Frida Kahlo. Which was kind of awesome because Frida Kahlo was his favorite twentieth-century Mexican artist.
And even better, this girl was like some kind of acrobatic superhero. One who swooped to the rescue on a rope!
The thought that such a person existed make Phil's brain fog over with awe. Or maybe it was the blood that had rushed to his head during his rescue. Also, there was the adrenaline of the attempted-suicide-turned-love-at-first-sight. Or maybe it was just his seasonal allergies. Whatever it was, Phil just couldn’t stop wheezing.
Abbie, too, appeared a bit overwhelmed. She fought back the temptation to mutter some too-cool-for-school rejoinder like “you’re welcome, kid” or “you can let go of me now.” But none of these suited the occasion. Thus, she simply lay on the rocky riverbank in the arms of the stranger she had just saved from imminent death. They were both soaking wet and grinning—happy to be alive.
And they should have been pleased with themselves.
It was not easy to unhook oneself from a harness and travel to shore with a rather large male in tow. She was glad for the lifeguard training she had taken during her Aquatic Superhero Phase. Phil had helped, too, with his half-hearted doggy paddle.
Yup, they were a good team.
AUTHOR Bio and Links:
Allison Spector was born and raised in the hedonistic playground of the Jersey Shore, but finds herself oddly allergic to spray tan. She is a proud graduate of Goucher College, and started her environmentally-focused career in Washington DC in 2005. She moved to the Pacific Northwest in 2008, and fell in love with its beauty and people. Allison is currently on a Midwestern Adventure and is determined to live as much life as possible—to accomplish her dreams one at a time—and to nurture her loving family, and blaze a trail of wit, whimsy, and eccentricity wherever she goes.
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