Sharon L. Clark, Author

Tag: writing prompts

NaNoWriMo, novel writing

Snippets and Stuff

My first novel is coming out this fall, and I am working toward finishing the next one – ‘finishing’ as in getting ready to send to editing – by the end of the summer. I’m learning a lot about myself through this endeavor.

Examples include:

  • I do my best writing in the morning, before my brain has a chance to be mushed up by the 1001 other things that will whirl like a cyclone through my mind the rest of the day.
  • My plots are very fluid and will change as I write, necessitating a lot of RE-writes before I even get to the end of the story. It’s frustrating and stressful and most likely the reason I do NOT have another book quite ready yet.
  • Writing snippets from daily prompts is both the BEST and the WORST. I love letting the word marinate for an hour or so before I try to write a 240-character scene around it. But then I have a scene with so much potential for a full novel that I get distracted by the new shiny thing.

It’s a sickness, I tell you.

While I am continuing to plug away on my next book, I wanted to share some of the snippets I’ve written in the past month or so. I created graphics – very rudimentary graphics that I’m sure actual artists will cringe at – for most of the prompts, so I’ve created a little gallery of some of my favorites.

Writing around these words is pretty challenging. And I find it really interesting to see what each one conjures in my mind, what connotation it holds for me, who I envision using it or being described by it. I use these exercises to stretch my brain and keep my creativity from becoming stagnant.

*If there are any that particularly pique your interest, leave a comment or send me an email and let me know; it just might be worked into a short story a future novel if enough people like it!
short story, story prompt, prompts, short stories

An Unexpected Union

Most of my recent short stories have fallen on the dark side. I’m not sure why that happens, and my friends like to tease me about it. So I was determined to write something sweeter, a cozy romance, perhaps. It was a little harder than I expected but I was ready for a writing challenge.

One of my favorite things about following prompts from this book, Write the Story, is that I can curb my fondness of going down writing rabbit holes. I tried to keep this romantic short story simple and I hope you like what I ended up with!

Title: An Unexpected Union

Words: brothers, potato, common, hands, boyfriend, alphabet, scribble, hydrangea, sandwich, tug-of-war


Julie Lillis wiped down the counter in the deli she’d worked at since high school. Kelly’s Deli was the go-to lunch spot in the small town of Pinto and most of the residents came through the doors for their famous roast beef sandwich or a bowl of vegetable alphabet soup any given day.

“I don’t understand what the big deal is.” A tall, lanky young man with waves of dark hair falling into his brown eyes leaned over Julie’s shoulder, making her jump.

She swatted at him with her towel and he poked her in the ribs. “Damn it, Shawn, what’s wrong with you? You’re gonna get an elbow to the nose one of these days.”

“Yeah, right,” he drawled with a smirk. “Anyway, I don’t get what’s so wrong with sticking around here one more year before you run away from home.”

Rolling her eyes, Julie tucked a blond curl behind her ear then put the chairs on the tables so Shawn could mop the floor. “Don’t be so dramatic. I’m not running away from home, I’m running toward my future. There is no way to get around the fact that my prospects are severely limited around here. It’s already been three years since graduation, I’ve got my associate’s degree from the community college, it’s just time for me follow my dreams.”

Shawn Flores leaned on the mop handle and stared at the floor while she talked.

“You know I won’t quit until I’m working for the Smithsonian Institution in some aspect. One of the museums in DC would be ideal, but I am not picky.” She blew her bangs out of her eyes, noticing Shawn’s forlorn expression.

They’d been like two peas in a pod since they were eight years old when Shawn moved into the house next door to Julie’s. It had been in the deepest heat of the summer, the kind of oppressive humidity that made daylight unfit for man or beast. At first, they wanted nothing to do with each other. His family had moved into the house that had been vacated by Julie’s first best friend, Annie, and her eight-year-old brain blamed him for making Annie leave.

First thing on summer mornings, Julie and her mom would work in the yard, pulling weeds from the small vegetable garden and watering the flowers. Julie’s favorites were the hydrangea bushes under her window. She’d picked out the first one when she was five and had gotten to buy a new one each year. The result was a collection of thriving blooms in blue, purple, and pink that mesmerized her every time she looked at them. One such morning, she’d been daydreaming over the flowers when Shawn’s mother came barreling over, dragging him behind her, to introduce herself. Julie glared at him. He stuck out his tongue. They maintained their crossed-arm standoff for nearly five minutes before she noticed his Power Rangers t-shirt.

“Hey! Do you like Power Rangers?”

Shawn had narrowed his eyes and answered, “Maybe. Why? Do you?”

Within another five minutes, Julie had dragged him to the shed where she kept her collection of morphers, swords, and laser blasters and the rest was history. Their bedroom windows faced each other and they spent the next ten years talking to each other through those windows after bedtime or taking the time to scribble a secret note before folding it into a paper airplane to shoot across the yard.

But looking at his mopey face in the middle of the darkened deli, Julie felt a pang in her chest. She talked a big game but she was nervous about leaving alone and not having him to talk to and lean on every day.

“Shawn?”

“Hmm?” he mumbled as he started swishing the mop back and forth on the black and white tiles.

“You could come with me, you know.” The way his head whipped up and his eyes locked on hers wasn’t the reaction she was expecting. He’d always refused to talk about going to college with a snort and a wave but this was very different.

“What do you mean?”

Hopping onto the counter behind her, Julie swung her legs and shrugged. “What do you mean, what do I mean? I mean you don’t have to stay here in this nowhere town and work at this old deli for the rest of your life. Let’s pick out a college together, one where I can get my history degree and museum curator’s license and you can take art and music classes.”

He frowned into the bucket of soapy water. “Don’t be dumb. First, how the hell am I going to afford college? After dad left, mom and I couldn’t even afford the community college here in town. Second, I can’t make a living with art or music. I’m better off staying here and managing the deli in another couple of years.”

Julie dragged her hands down her face and groaned. “Oh my god, Shawn. You know Joe isn’t going to retire. Like, ever. You will have to pry that set of manager keys from his cold, dead hand, and even then it’s not a guarantee. You are so talented, you could do anything you wanted! You deserve so much better than this.”

His smile was sad as he rolled the mop and bucket past into the back room. “You think so? Sometimes I wonder.”

“Hey,” she whispered, placing her hand on his arm. “Your dad’s an asshole and your folks were wrong to play tug-of-war with you during the divorce. They were both in so much pain they couldn’t see what they were doing to you and I’m so sorry.”

Without looking up, Shawn placed his hand on top of hers and sighed. “I want to believe you, Jules, I really do. And I try to. But there are only so many positive affirmations I can tell my mirror before the words mean nothing.”

Julie’s other hand slid into the longer shaggy locks at the back of his neck while she tried to think of what to say. When he was about twelve, his dad began an affair with a woman he met on the golf course and his attitude at home turned to shit. He was rude to Shawn’s mom if he acknowledged her at all, and he had zero kind words for Shawn when he realized that football and baseball weren’t in his future. Instead, singing and art were Shawn’s true and outstanding talents, but his dad never accepted that. He left a year later. She knew she shouldn’t, but Julie felt guilty that her parents were still married and happy together.

Leaning into her touch, Shawn started to relax. He turned to lay his forehead against her shoulder, wrapping his arms around her waist. It was a common pose for them, taking comfort in each other without words or judgments.

Shawn took a deep breath and pushed back from Julie’s embrace. “Thanks, Jules. You always know how to make me feel better. And you know what? I’ll think about it. There are worse things than running away with you.”

The way she gasped when he said that made his heart skip a beat. She knew he would do anything for her, so why would she look so shocked and confused?

Just then, there was a loud rapping on the front door. Julie’s face lit up as she jumped off the counter but Shawn’s whole posture deflated and he muttered, “Like spending any time with him, for instance.”

“Hush, you,” Julie laughed as she unlocked the door to let in her boyfriend and resident town stud, Troy Hawkins. After she set the lock behind him, he immediately crushed her against his chest, his hands roaming all over her. “Woah, hold up there, tiger – we’re not alone!”

Without letting go of Julie’s butt, Troy sneered at Shawn and flipped a bro nod his way. “S’up, man.”

Shawn hated him. He was one of a set of athletic, handsome, all-American brothers who were virtually worshipped in Pinto. Somehow, they were blessed with good looks, strength, and sports ability, but not one of them had a higher IQ than a potato.

From the time they were thirteen, Troy had decided that Shawn needed a shove into the lockers or a friendly trip in the cafeteria pretty much every day. Once they graduated, Shawn thought he’d finally gotten rid of that douchebag and was ready to live his life free from the Hawkins brothers’ bullying tactics.

But no.  Julie had crushed on Troy all through school and he’d never given her the time of day, instead dating the head cheerleader, Allison Bernhard. Then Allison left for college. After burning through the rest of the cheer squad, Troy had finally noticed Julie a couple of months back and Shawn was forced to play nice for her sake.

Yep. With the burning passion of a thousand suns, he despised Troy Hawkins.

“Not much, Troy. What are you up to tonight?”

Eliciting a squeal from Julie as he lifted her off the ground with one arm, Troy sauntered into the deli, tracking dirt behind him on the floor Shawn had just cleaned. “Gonna take my best girl here out on a date. You’ve had to wait long enough for me to have some free time, I thought I’d surprise you.”

She pressed a lingering kiss to Troy’s lips and Shawn tried not to barf.

“Give me just a minute to change out of my uniform and we can go. Where are we going?” She gazed up at Troy with shining eyes, then shook her head. “No, don’t tell me. It’s your surprise. I’ll let it be a surprise.” Then she dashed into the back room leaving Troy leaning against the counter while Shawn rolled the bucket back toward the door.

Neither of them acknowledged the other. With Julie out of the room, they didn’t need to pretend to be civil. In fact, Shawn was pretty sure that Troy had forgotten he was even in the room, which was fine with him. The last thing he wanted to do, short of gouging out his own eyes, was to make small talk with Troy freaking Hawkins. Thankfully, Troy’s phone rang just then and Shawn was saved.

Because he was a moron, Troy answered the phone on speaker and a female voice filled the room. “Babe, where’d you go? My bed is lonely.”

Shawn froze and tried to shrink into the shadows. What the hell was he hearing?

“Allie, I told you not to bug me about what I’m doing. I had something to take care of, and that’s all you need to know. I’ll come back when I feel like it.”

Allie? Was he talking to Allison?

She purred from the phone, “I miss you, that’s all. And here I am, all alone, lying in my bed without a stitch of clothing on me.”

From his vantage point, Shawn watched Troy rearrange his stance and grin. “Yeah? Send me pics to get me through until I can get back there. I gotta take my little cousin to a ball game then I’m all yours. Love you, Bernhard.” When he disconnected the call, he noticed Shawn was in the room. He frowned and his face darkened, fists clenching at his sides.

“What the hell, Flores? You spying on me? Do I need to put you in your place? Again?”

Fury pulsing through him, Shawn pushed the bucket out of the way and drew up to his full height. “Nope, not spying. But I sure heard enough to keep you from taking Julie anywhere tonight. Or any other night, for that matter.”

“Oh yeah? What do you think you heard, shithead? You didn’t hear dick.”

“Mmm, I beg to differ,” Shawn countered. “I heard, loud and clear, you lying to your old girlfriend Allison Bernhard, asking for nudes and promising to be back in her bed as soon as you were done with your ‘cousin’. All that while you’re waiting to take your current girlfriend on a date. Sound about right?”

Taking a couple quick steps toward Shawn, Troy brandished his fists and snarled, “You better keep your damn mouth shut or I’ll knock your teeth down your throat.”

Shawn laughed and shook his head. “Oh, Troy, you stupid, simple gorilla. I’ve let you push me around for half my life, let you threaten me and make a fool of me and it was no big deal. I could take it.” All humor drained from his face and his voice dropped to a deep, low tone that didn’t hide the menace behind his next words. “But Julie means everything to me. Everything. I have been in love with her since the day I met her. She deserves the sun and the moon and all the stars in the galaxy and the next and you are a speck of dust on the bottom of her shoe. And I won’t let you hurt her, ever.”

“Ha. What’re you gonna do, Flores? So what if I get a little piece of ass on the side, ain’t no big deal. Allison is a fantastic lay – you should take her for a ride sometime – and since Julie won’t give it up quite yet, I’ve got every right. What she doesn’t know won’t hurt her, anyway.” A growl emanated from deep in Shawn’s throat as he advanced one step at a time. Troy tried to hold his ground, but the flash of fear behind his eyes was unmistakable. “You gonna tattle on me? Who do you think she’s gonna believe? Her loser neighbor or her hot boyfriend?”

“Oh, definitely the hot boyfriend.” At the sound of Julie’s voice from the darkened doorway to the back room, both men jumped and stared at her. Then Troy smirked over his shoulder at Shawn and sauntered toward the pretty blonde. Shawn’s heart broke and he hung his head.

“I knew you would, baby,” he gloated, reaching for her.

But Julie avoided his touch.

“Yeah, when my boyfr- excuse me, I mean my ex-boyfriend, himself, says that he’s sleeping with someone else why wouldn’t I believe him?” She crossed her arms and glowered at Troy until he was forced to take a step backward. “I think it’s time for you to leave, Hawkins.”

The grin on Shawn’s face as Troy skulked from the deli was more pride in his best friend’s gumption than the fact that Troy Hawkins had finally gotten caught in his own lies. Although that was pretty sweet.

His face burning red, Troy stopped at the door and fumbled with the lock. “Yeah, well, you both are losers. Julie Lillis, you’re a prude and I am way out of your league. I was doing you a favor!” When Julie stepped up next to Shawn and rested her arm on his shoulder Troy nearly came unglued. “Whatever. You two deserve each other!” He finally yanked the door open and stormed out into the night.

The two friends didn’t move or speak for a moment. Shawn knew that couldn’t have been easy for Julie. One part of him wanted to whoop and laugh at the humiliation on Troy’s face but the other part could sense that his best friend was unusually quiet and still and was probably embarrassed, herself. He turned toward her and squeezed her hands.

“I’m so sorry Jules, you didn’t deserve that.” His whisper sounded far too loud in the silent restaurant. “And Troy didn’t deserve you. You know I’m glad he’s gone – I’ve never hidden how much I loathe him – but I’m so sorry that he hurt you like this.”

Julie kept her eyes trained on their joined hands, her eyebrows drawn together. Then suddenly her scowl eased and the corner of her mouth lifted. “Don’t worry, he didn’t hurt me. I knew what he was a long time ago and I say good riddance to bad rubbish.”

Shawn started to laugh but Julie’s head whipped up and she fixed him with an accusing glare, freezing him in place.

“But you, on the other hand, I am pissed at you right now!”

“Wait – what? Why? I didn’t trick him into outing himself, I didn’t start anything with him! I didn’t do anything!” He stumbled backwards as Julie jabbed him in the chest.

“That’s right, you didn’t do anything,” she yelled. “All this time, all these years – wasted – because you didn’t do anything!”

Shawn’s back hit the counter and he couldn’t retreat any further. With anger still written all over her face, Julie marched closer, pressing him back until their faces were only inches apart. Then, with an exasperated huff, she captured his lips in a passionate kiss.

At first, he didn’t understand what was happening, but then realization dawned and he wrapped his arms around Julie’s waist, pulling her closer and deepening the kiss. Every moment of his life had been leading up to this moment, every fiber of his being had yearned for this, and he wasn’t sure if he was dreaming. But he didn’t care.

When they separated, both of them panting and cheeks flushed, they stared at each other for a stunned moment. Then they laughed before holding each other tight.

“I heard what Troy said, Shawn, but I heard what you said, too,” Julie murmured against his cheek. “You’re an idiot. So am I.” She tangled her hands in his thick, dark hair and pulled back to gaze into his eyes. “All this time, you felt the same way I did and I never thought to tell you that I love you. That I’ve always loved you.”

The warmth and joy spreading through Shawn’s chest was something he’d never experienced before, a sense of pure joy and acceptance and love. Looking into his best friend’s crystal blue eyes he knew deep in his bones that he’d never be without that feeling again.

Chasing the Enemy

When I start on one of these prompts, I write notes about where I see the story going. The funny thing is that it’s very rare for those ideas to make it into the story…For instance: one of the original ideas for this prompt was a man with a special parakeet that could identify demons. 🤔😈

I hope you enjoy this story – leave a comment or send me an email with your thoughts!

Title: Chasing the Enemy

Words: demon, bystander, escaped, parakeet, destiny, hammer, singing, ash, cathedral, heels


Cigarette smoke curled into the night air in the circle of light cast by the lone street light. Outside of that circle, however, the shadows writhed with everything dark and dangerous. The gloom concealed the thieves, the prostitutes, the murderers. At least until an unsuspecting bystander got caught in a snare and was swallowed by the night.

Damien was no stranger to these shadows. In fact, he often sought them out. He dropped the spent cigarette and crushed it with his toe, brushing the ash from his jacket lapels. How many nights had he held vigil on this corner? Two? Three? Rubbing his eyes, he yawned. Too many nights, that’s how many. But he’d been chasing leads and suspects long enough to know that sleep would only come once his quarry was caught and neutralized. Then he could safely trudge home and sleep in his own bed, under the same roof as the one he’d sworn to protect.

Shaking a new smoke out of the pack, he pulled it free with his lips before touching the bright flame of his lighter to the end. No spring chicken, Damien was gruff and scruffy, loud and bossy. He wasn’t bad to look at even though his jet-black hair was now streaked with a dirty gray and he couldn’t seem to keep his chin free of whiskers for more than an hour. It was the way he carried himself that had kept him alone for nearly a decade. He was aware of  his permanent scowl and his hunched shoulders and his angry tone of voice if anyone dared show him kindness.

He knew he didn’t deserve it.

Taking another long drag from his cigarette, he turned his eyes to the lighted windows of the cathedral across the street. His friends, when he’d had them, tried to get him to find peace in the church. Any church. After his wife had been murdered and the perpetrator escaped into obscurity, however, Damien felt that God was mocking him. He was being punished, his destiny twisted and mangled until he had lost all traces of humanity.

Their argument that day had been entirely his fault. Jeannie had been asking him for months to pick up his hammer and finish building the bookshelves he’d promised her when they bought the little craftsman-style house. He’d picked out the perfect oak and lovingly stained and treated it, carving intricate designs for accents. But for some unknown reason he was unable to assemble the pieces. Not physically unable, but some kind of mental block stopped him any time he thought about finishing them. His insecurities had convinced him that the one person he loved more than life wouldn’t need him anymore once those shelves were built.

She’d begged him that day, teasing, bribing him with a vacation or tickets to his favorite band. But he refused everything. Jeannie had tried to be kind and he’d been a complete ass. Yelling, calling her names and telling her to get off his back, he’d slammed out of the house and peeled away in his stupid Chevelle SS. An image in his rearview mirror, standing on the front porch looking heartbroken, was the last time he’d seen her alive.

If only he’d been there. If only he’d apologized and kissed her. If only he’d just built those damn bookshelves, she’d still be alive.

Damien didn’t remember anything from the moment he pulled onto his street, singing along to the radio and saw the police cars until everyone was gathered at his house after Jeannie’s funeral. When he came back to himself, all his neighbors and family patting him on the back and vomiting platitudes at him when he was drowning in self-loathing, he checked out. Without a word, he walked out the front door, climbed in his stupid muscle car and drove away. He had no idea what happened to his house or any of his other property – and he didn’t care.

He shifted his weight and stretched his back, lighting another cigarette with a scowl. Ten years. It had taken ten years of traveling, of taking odd jobs just so he could drink himself into oblivion, to bring him to Ellen. He exhaled with a small smile and a shake of his head. How they’d found each other was a mystery and why she stayed with him, well…that was simply a miracle. If it hadn’t been for her parakeet yellow raincoat he wouldn’t have paid any attention to her and she might have gotten away with it.

He had been stumbling down the sidewalk, using the buildings he passed to keep him mostly upright, when she materialized in front of him. At 15 years old and barely five feet tall, Ellen had popped up and caught his attention in that damn coat. When he stopped to stare at it, she offered to help him make his way home. It wasn’t until they were almost at the door of his motel room that he felt her hand in his pocket.

They’d been taking care of each other ever since.

Movement at the cathedral doors caught Damien’s attention and he melted back into the shadows, snuffing out his cigarette. The man exiting the church strolled down the steps and across the street, whistling a jaunty tune to the rhythm of his heels striking the pavement. Damien’s hands curled into fists: it was him.

Counting to twenty, Damien calmed his breathing and slid the knife from its sheath on his hip. He stepped off the curb, his gaze trained on his prey. With quick, silent steps, he drew closer to the demon who had destroyed his life, following him down the steps to the near-abandoned subway platform.

Damien tightened his grip on the handle of the blade and grinned with the knowledge that he’d sleep well that night.

some days are strange, writing, author strugles

Some Days Are Just Strange

We all have those days.

You wake up feeling “off.” No real reason why, just not really into it that day. It could be a lingering bad dream, or a negative comment online – or worse, ZERO comments online! Maybe you slept wrong, you couldn’t sleep, the atmosphere is charged with an impending snow storm, the planets are out of whack.

It happens to the best of us. Since this is the real world, and we’re all adults here, you can’t just pull the covers over your head and wait it out. Shoot, when you get to be my age, lying in bed all day just makes things worse. The creaks and hitches become cracks and full-on joint failures.

I was tempted today. Instead, I decided to shake things up a little.

I’ve been working on a fantasy story for my NaNoWriMo project. I have reached the 50,000-word goal and can now focus on making sure all my plot points are included and that my characters are behaving as they should. The problem with that is my brain is a bit frazzled today. So I poked it.

While some of you may be picturing Shel Silverstein’s drawing for the poem “Warning” from Where the Sidewalk Ends(It’s just me? Go look it up. You won’t be sorry) that’s not quite what happened. A few years ago, one of the kids got my husband a book of writing prompts called 642 Things To Write About. I decided to dust that off and see if anything jumped out at me.

On the very first page of this book I read, “A houseplant is dying. Tell it why it needs to live.” Now I have a new 1700-word short story out in the world and I feel better.

Here’s a little snippet*:

That was about the end of my pep talk and I was freaking out a little. There had been no change and I didn’t know enough about plants to be really effective. I lifted up one of the long, thin stems of the half-flowers and looked it over.

“Oh! And this little flower thingy that you have here? What would the bees do without this? You provide them the building materials they need to make their homes and their honey. Did you know all the bees are dying? If you weren’t here, you’d be hurting them, too! You have to do your part. Think about that. Plus – you are right in front of this glass, where all the other inside flowers can see you. If YOU give up, the one big strong plant that actually lives IN the sun and the fresh air, what will the rest of them think?”

I was really starting to connect with this plant and suddenly realized I didn’t know his name. Closing my eyes, I reached out with an open mind and waited for him to tell me. He wasn’t very forthcoming at first, and I’ll admit I started to doze off in the silence. I mean, the sun was warm, it was still early, and let’s be honest, he wasn’t too entertaining. In an attempt to revive myself, I took another big swig of water, sharing a little with the plant, too, before resuming my meditative state.

Finally, a name made itself known to me: Bernard.

Some days are just strange.

How do you “poke your brain”? Do you have any tricks to get your creativity flowing again – or even just to do the things you need to do for the day? Comment below or feel free to shoot me an email!

*You can find the rest of the story on my Channillo Channel