Category: Creative Writing

Rushing to Write

I have put so much pressure on myself to blog/write. I wanted to be one of those bloggers with like 1,500 followers, tons of likes and comments as a way of saying, “Dude, you’re a great writer!” But, I’m not a “great” writer, just a cook who loves to write about any and everything.

There is/are something(s) lacking in my writing. For one, vision. What is my end game here? It’s hard to sit and be consistent when your day starts at 3:45am and you have a toddler and a baby on the way. So I am forced to ask myself, am I writing as a form of escape and the world (30+ followers) is traveling along with me? Or am I building up to something bigger?

I have seen some of the pages I follow discuss different awards they have received and I ask myself, what would that take for me to achieve that level of coolness? Truth be told, I do not submit my work for peer reviews for a few reasons, one is actually an excuse (I haven’t copyrighted my work), the other is that I am so used to folks saying, “Oh, that’s really good!” And that’s as far as it goes, and then finally, fear… fear that my writing isn’t as good as I think it is.

The other issue I find in my writing is my lack of reading. I usually fall asleep with books opened on my face and my wife has to put them away losing my page (lol). My lack of reading has grotesquely affected my vocabulary. When I was younger, you couldn’t pay NOT to read. Now, as a full time cook, dad, and husband, I hardly have time to breathe. I need to read both fiction and non fiction. I need to study the Bible, and read other world views not neccessary in search of a new world view, but understanding how mine lines up along with others. I need to distance my reality from what I write, learn to put the reader in a world not mine or theirs.

Lastly. My writing needs time and patience. I tend to write something, and BOOM! I think it’s a masterpiece. I need to go back, edit, rethink, retool, and possibly rewrite, maybe scratch the whole project and start again. But I need to learn not to rush… even as I type this, i am hurrying so I can get the little one up and start our day.

So I will end with this; to my followers and to whomever else may stumble upon this here blog, feel free to leave some critiques, be real, in spite of my fears, I will take the meat and leave the bone.

-SpKn

9:47P.M

I should be getting ready for bed, after all, I have to wake up at 3:45. The reality is, for weeks I have wanted to write, wanted to type, something, anything, just to escape all the hustle and excitement of the holidays and what not.

This is the first time in a very long time that I could sit and thus so far, not be interrupted. So, I’ll leave it there, I had the ability to type-and though this is boring, at least I can say I did it!

A Kiss Like Lightening

He sat in the diner sipping his coffee. He could not help but notice the waitress at the door with the green tee-shirt and tight jeans. She was dark brown, cute with high cheek bones, smooth skin, and eyes that flashed seductively.
“Can I get you anything?” Her voice sang to him through an imaginary fog. He held her gaze briefly before responding, “More coffee—please.” She smiled and as she walked away her thick hips swayed with an intoxicating rhythm.
She was perfect—not too thick, not too thin. His thoughts raced with controversy. Was it wrong to desire this woman? Even if it was only for the night?
His gaze lingered out the window of the diner as the rain swam through the night—lightening flashed, and thunder rumbled.
“Your coffee, sir.” She smiled, and her teeth shone like a thousand pearls.
“May I ask you your name?” He asked as she took the liberty to sit across from him.
“Tanya, with an ‘A’.” She never bothered to ask him his name. She merely sat, enjoying the mysteriousness of this gentleman.
Deep down, she too felt a conviction for wanting him, but—for some odd reason, she felt a strange sense of pity for this man as well.
The diner was well lit and slightly noisy. There was no room for privacy. He had conflicting thoughts and feelings running through him. Now that I know her name, where do I go from here.
“What happened to your arm?” She asked referring to the bandage he was wearing. He explained about the accident he had at work three days ago.
“Your eyes—they are absolutely stunning!” She said as she took his hand and led him away from the table and towards the door.
There was an electric vibe coursing between the two, something neither had felt before.
Standing at his car they shared a kiss full of passion—like the lightening flashing around them. Tanya slipped her number into his hand.
He let go as his convictions began to fade, but a sadness remained. She saw it in his eyes that he was going home to an empty bed. Explains the pity she thought. Poor thing must be aggravating.
He felt confused. He felt free, he felt ashamed—relieved and burdened. Being a young widower, his heart still ached for his beloved—but his body craved release. Every face belonged to her, every caress gave him flashbacks of the vivid love they once shared.
“The coffee is on me,” she sang through the rain. She sauntered back into the diner as lightening burst through the dark sky and thunder hollered over the rain.

Cold Moon

Thanksgiving still hung in the crisp cold air. Voices escaped from behind closed doors, chimneys puffed into the night sky. Macaroni and cheese, yams, something a little burnt—stuffing maybe. The aromas struck his nose as familiar, minus the burnt tinge affectingthe air. A warm feeling flooded his soul as he thought of the joy each home must have been filled with the day prior. He wondered if each dwelling was packed tight like sardines.

His footsteps fell hard on cold concrete—it felt different than in the summer. Not that it was any softer, but maybe, slightly quieter. A few other unfamiliar faces were out milling about; he was just glad to be out on this crisp night, even if he was only walking to the supermarket down the street. Hands shoved in coat pockets, keenly alert of all around him, he took in the beauty of the moon, her fullness and intensity.

-SpKn

Dinner Party Pt 1

Her breath quickened. At the table with friends, boldly his hand rested between her thighs. He could feel the heat emanating from her delicate flower. “Hey, Felicia, how did that project…” she took a deep breath as his hand now began massaging her most private place. “Um, ooh, yeah um how did that project work out for you?” Felicia began describing the ups and downs of a budget crisis at her job while Denise’s friend continued his game.
Leaning over she whispered seductively, “You have no idea what you are doing.” Rob stopped. “Meet me upstairs in the bathroom.” She excused herself. Moments later Rob’s phone rang, “Yeah sure, uh, I’ll be right there. Hey guys, um, I’m going to go check on Denise, she said she’s not feeling well.”
“Oh no, is she ok?” Carol asked.
“She said she was feeling hot all over,” Rob smirked. Once upstairs he closed the door to the bathroom. “Fuck me, right now!” Their lips met violently as Rob slid his hands under skirt moving her thong out of the way. “Turn around,” he said aggressively, pushing her over the sink.
Rob shoved himself into her sex with force, causing a hungry groan to slip through her delicate lips. “This feels so good, but its not good,” Denise panted. Rob knew what she was referring to, but neither one of them was willing to stop. “Do it, go head baby.” She could tell he was close. With their friends downstairs, Rob grunted and convulsed, pumping his friend with his seed. “Splash some water on your face,” and back downstairs they went, his cum dripping into her already damp underwear.
“Hey girl, are you ok?”
“Oh, yes, now I am. Rob helped me cool off.”

-SpKn