Shakespeare's invented words

The most common complaints my English teacher friends hear when they start a new unit on Shakespeare in their classes is that their students don't understand the words he used in his plays. And it's true, a lot of the words--for better or worse--are no longer used.  (Seriously, how did ZOUNDS go out of favor? It's a most excellent word.)
The thing is, though, that for every archaic and discarded word you'll find in Shakespeare, you'll find hundreds more that Shakespeare invented, words that are still used today.
Words like--accused, bandit, bedroom, blushing.  According to Shakespeare online, the bard invented 700 modern words (ode, Olympian, grovel, tranquil, thoughtless).  If you like words, check out their page on the subject here.

R.I.P Helen Gurley Brown

It's been a bad couple of months for feminists. Helen Gurley Brown, the woman who wrote Sex and the Single Girl and turned Cosmo into the bible for a generation of women, has died at the age of 90. She was a self-made woman and proud of it. “How could any woman not be a feminist?" she famously asked. Go here to see a "top ten" of her quotes. 

I will steal your dreams

Sometimes a story comes to me fully formed.
Usually the story is kindled by an image, and I have gotten used to having pictures haunt me until I figure out how to tell their stories. (I have been wanting to tell a ghost story inspired by wreckage from the tsunami floating ashore on the West Coast ever since seeing the first wave of that salt-crusted, rust-corroded flotsam.)
Tonight though, a friend told me a dream he's been having after taking heavy-duty pain meds. It was a horrifying story that made my scalp prickle. And he'd hardly finished telling me when a story flashed into my head--complete and entire.
Two hours later I'd finished writing it down, and had edited and proofed it.
I'm going to reread it tomorrow and then send it out into the world.
I told my friend I was doing this because it isn't nice to steal someone's dream and just ... re-use it for your own purposes.
And although what I have written is only about 25 percent inspired by his account of his nightmare, the broad outline of the tale is his.
He never would have written it.
And it was just too good a story to waste.
Like most writers, I use bits and pieces of my own life in my stories. I mine my memories and comb through my past, and I did not experience those memories in isolation, or live that past alone. So sometimes, there are bits and pieces of other people's lives in my stories.
I change things to protect the innocent and guilty alike.
But still there are traces of reality that can be used like forensic evidence to identify the source of a story if someone is interested enough.
I can't be the only one who does this.

Dying is easy; comedy is hard

I have a very dear friend who frequently sends me links to YouTube videos he thinks are hilarious. And I almost never laugh. (The most recent offering was for some product Jerry Stiller was hawking and I thought the commercial was like bad vaudeville.)  I was thinking about that in relationship to Shakespeare and his comedies. Or more precisely, Shakespeare and his comic characters. Comedy relies so much on context--on the joke teller and the audience "being on the same page" that it's a wonder a single sitcom can manage it, much less a playwright who lived centuries ago in a world that was different from ours today that any account of it might as well begin with "Once Upon a Time."
A lot of Shakespeare's comic relief characters do not work for me, not even in performance when an actor (and the comic relief characters are mostly male, aren't they?) can bring the comedy to a level I can relate to.
I have never enjoyed Falstaff, for instance. He appears in his "jolly" incarnation in three plays, Henry IV, pt. 1, Henry IV, pt. 2, and The Merry Wives of Windsor. For more about Falstaff, check out the post here. Mabillard, Amanda. Shakespeare: General Q & A Shakespeare Online. 20 Aug. 2000. (August 12, 2012) < http://www.shakespeare-online.com/faq/falstaff.html>.
I also hate Dogberry from Much Ado About Nothing. Every time he steps upon the stage, the energy of the play drops for me. The malapropisms just lie flat for me.
But I know both these opinions are minority ones, and that by general regard, Falstaff is Shakespeare's greatest comic creation. 
If I had to pick, though, my favorite Shakespeare clown would be Bottom from A Midsummer Night's Dream, with the Tempest's Stefano a close second.

Craig's List: The anthology

You know the great anthology Discount Noir, where all the stories take place in a big box store? I think you could put together a dandy noir anthology inspired by Craig's List. My favorite ad of the night, "I need someone to sex my ball python."  Yeah, I know what it means but if you're in just the right mood, a story suggests itself. Then there are the out and out creepy ads where someone wants to hire an assistant and is asking for a picture and wondering if they'd be interested in getting room and board as part of their compensation.  Craig's List the Anthology--you heard it here first.

Feminist Fiction Friday--the Freebie

As a promotion for the upcoming release of my latest short story collection (The Poisoned Teat), you can snag my first collection, Just Another Day in Paradise absolutely free at Smashwords. (Amazon still hasn't lowered the price.) Go here to claim your copy in whatever format you choose.

The Last Cat Standing

Photo by Orlovic, modified by Tony Wild

The Last Cat Standing

by Katherine Tomlinson

Moo had been the sweetest cat Lois had ever known. An ordinary black and white “cow” cat, she’d been the runt of a litter of kittens born to a feral cat occupying the parking garage of the office building where she worked. A young woman from the sixth floor, a receptionist at the insurance company that sprawled across half a dozen office suites, had rescued the kittens and then littered the building with photocopied flyers offering them up for adoption.

Building maintenance kept taking the flyers down, but every morning there was a fresh batch taped to the mirrors in all the ladies’ rooms and on the stairwell sides of all the exit doors.

Lois had successfully staved off such appeals before—in the days before email it seemed like once a week every local newscast included a pet adoption segment and the critters on offer were always super cute.