Saving Each Other_Writers plan_Look Busy_Hidden Feelings
Catalog Guide:
Saving Each Other
“My husband didn’t commit suicide. I poisoned him,” said Mary Farber to Detective Ruth Barnes a week after her husband Bruce died. Mary knew she had to protect Bruce beyond the grave in whatever way she could. Her beloved husband was a proud man; reputation was everything to him. He built a successful career as a financial advisor and served on the www.onedoor.ccboard of the Greater West Chester Chamber of Commerce and the Chester County Board of Commissions for years. People in his community knew, respected, and genuinely liked him.When she arrived home from work a week ago, she discovered Bruce lying on t...
Writers plan
‘I’ve got a plan!’ I said to my husband Tom as I rushed into the living room. I grabbed his wet, soapy hands and he could barely drop the knife he was washing. ‘I’m going to write a Reedsy short story!’He knows I’ve been struggling with writing, after my first book. That was about three years ago, when I was in the middle of a burnout. It was recommended to me as a form of therapy, but the whole process of creating the characters, thinking about the story lines and doing research, secretly grabbed me somewhere along the way.But then, after finally having mustered up the courage to send my baby...
Look Busy
Lena picked at the skin around her fingernails. Her mother had always told her it was a bad habit - unsightly. But she wasn't doing enough. She'd look lazy and her boss would fire her. She circled the dining room again. One man was halfway done with his French toast. A woman typed away on her laptop and sipped an almost-full cup of coffee. The skin around her fingernails burned as she made eye contact with her manager and scurried outside. Nobody was outside. Jordan had already written her up for under-performing. She'd lost every job in the past year. She pressed her lips together. She had to...
Hidden Feelings
She picked up the clump of dry earth in her hand and threw it onto the wooden casket. Pale and sad faces were lined up on either side of the grave and as one person finished throwing dirt onto the dark wooden lid, the next person did the same. It was hard to imagine that there was a body in the casket and that just one week earlier he had been alive and breathing, walking around, laughing, working at a project that would never have his name on the final copy - giving all the credit to someone else. John wouldn’t have minded though; he was that type of man. Looking around at the crowds Moira w...