You want to write better. You want to write more.

Ann Linquist I’m Ann Linquist, freelance writer and online writing instructor.  Whether you’re interested in writing fiction, creative nonfiction, or effective business documents, I invite you to explore this site and find out how to reach your writing goals.

More Galumphing for You

The Undergod

The round and round

A phobia

Stubbed toe

Back to School

It’s that time of year.  Thoughts may turn to school supplies, the end of freedom, the return of friends you haven’t seen.  This time of year may mean you’re sending a child off to college, knowing it’s the beginning of the end of their life as a daily family member.  You may be facing classes yourself, in one of the many forms now available for learning.

Do you have any stories about going to school?  Share them here!

The Book of Stains

I would like your additions to “The Book of Stains.” It’s a handy how-to guide that needs expanding since stains are always going to show up. Here are some early listings, to give you an idea of what is most helpful:

The splatter of grief

–This stain will fade over time. Many cleaning books maintain that this is a treatable stain, but there is no way to erase the splatter of grief except to wait for it to disappear on its own.

Spilled hopes

–Wipe up with a soft cloth. Wring the liquid into a Mason jar and seal. These will keep indefinitely until you are ready to serve them up along with a fine champagne.

Ground in messages of misogyny

–This stain needs treatment with harsh chemicals. Wear rubber gloves because such stains are toxic to tender skin. The sooner this stain is treated, the better. If the stain is on paper, burn it.

Caked on confusion

–Happily, there are many books on cake making that contain helpful hints. Betty Crocker herself recommends mixing up confusion with the following ingredients: a dictionary, Google, a yellow tablet, honesty, and the will to learn. Bake for a number of years until done.

The dust of dumb decisions

–Here a light touch is best. Dust is everywhere and it tends to come back. Don’t shoot for the perfect dustless home, but rest easy. A little dust never hurt anyone. We all have this kind of dust.

This Is Only a Test

(And who are we to resist?)

True or False
1. Summer is the opposite of winter.
2. Riding camels is similar to publishing the local church newsletter.
3. Thwapping a presidential candidate in the face with a dried pea from a pea shooter is a federal offense.
4. Living on an island near New Zealand is close to heaven.
5. I could play guitar if I would only practice more.

Time Travel

1947
1959
1974
1992

Third Annual ALWAYCT Writing Festival Has Arrived!

Welcome friends and writers!  Now is the time to challenge yourself to write something that you want to share and get careful feedback on.

For our Third Annual ALWAYCT Festival there will be two rules:

~Limit your piece to 1000 words or less.

~If you submit, you pledge to share careful feedback on all the other submissions from your fellow writers.  Your feedback should be more than, “I liked it!”  Share suggestions for improvements and mention specific things that you thought were done well.  We all want to learn.

The rest is up to you.  Select your own format and topic.  Fiction, creative nonfiction, essays, poetry–you pick!  Can it be an excerpt from a longer piece?  Sure; just let us know that.

Time frame?  It’s open ended, but remember that I tend to post new challenges fairly frequently, so older ones start to drift off into the nether regions of this blog.  Post soon!

Am I going to comment on your submissions?  I will if I decide to post something of my own.

I look forward to reading your work.  Blast the page!

One More Crummy Poem: Please Add Yours!

Supper’s on the table
With sour cream and chives.
One more day of waiting
To see if I survive.

All the pieces are in place
I even bought dessert;
Everyone is happy,
And I am going berserk.

I might sleep beneath a tree tonight,
Stay up until the dawn.
Something’s got to tear loose soon,
Or I am going down.

Forget the happy endings.
I ride the universe.
My hangnails all have offspring.
A thin shell over nerves.

So I conjure, and I write.
This path or that, I try,
Shove made up folks down fancied roads
Where I feel more sane and sigh.

I’m standing on one shaky leg,
Looking out for any handhold,
All preciously grabbed in gratitude
As I read tales I’ve told.