Sunday, May 31, 2015

Sunday Musings: May 31 2015

pic by Chris

Happy Last Day of May, Musers!

For me, April dragged by, but May has flown like a magpie...magpies do fly, right? It's that moment when you write something and rethink 'did I get the facts right?' or 'how lame was that line.'

Which is a partial lead-in to today's Sunday Musings. How many of you have heard of the worse story opening contest? Most use the overdone phrase: it was a dark and stormy night...

I've asked our creative people here at Muse, to write the worse closing line(s).

Please indulge me as I start this off.

After many back and forths fighting for control of the pitchfork, Mary-Beth, all four foot 10 inches of her, finally skewered the towering seven foot masked killer. Not believing the dying breath of her bestie, there was no way this was her basketball playing boyfriend, Mary-Beth knelt down close to the bleeding out killer and removed the mask. It was...

"And they all lived happily ever after, soon forgetting the trauma that had forged their close friendships. Of course, they never realized this forgetfulness would cause them to drift apart, leading them into the same actions that had joined them in the first place. But that is another story for another time, when they have survived yet again the same traumatic experiences, and they will never figure out they are doomed to repeat their personal history, until they learn how important history is."

I think I'm going to go work on a good story ending now. I'm shuddering after writing that. LOL!

"It was a bright and sunny day, and the storm had ended once and for all."
Maybe that wouldn't be a bad ending in some stories, but it sounds cheesy to me, especially if you start the story out with "It was a dark and stormy night."


There she was, the woman of his dreams and heart. For all the torment and confusion he put her through, she was still here waiting at the door for him. Even learning of his wife not being dead had not send her running. The cast, for the collar bone broken during the fight as his wife tried killing her, was bright against her yellow blouse.

"Elizabeth," he cried running to her on bended knee. "Marry me, the divorce will be granted in six months, you'll make me a better husband than she ever could. You know and understand me. Marry me."

"Get out of my way, you sicko."


The butler wiped his prints from the smoking gun, kissed the nude model who was tied to the chair, pushed the button that activated the countdown, and, taking a moment to write down tomorrow's stock market results on the notepad by the phone, stepped into the time machine that no one knew he had, and was gone.

LESLEY FIELD, new HOT author

“It was a perfect evening.  The air was still warm as the sun began to slowly set, but he felt as though his heart had stopped beating. All he felt was a numbness, and that was good; the pain would come later. He could still feel her soft warm body in his arms, her lips on his, and the complete surrender as they came together as one. All the months of hopes and shared dreams lay about his feet as dust. Now all he could do was watch as she walked away, denying the love they shared because she was too afraid to embrace it. The cab door opened and she climbed in without a backward glance. It was over, she was gone, and would not return.

They say a man doesn’t cry, but a silent tear slipped from his eye as he turned his back on what should have been his future.”

This would for me be the worst ending to a romantic novel. Having read and shared the love throughout the novel, for the ending to be an “ohh” rather than and “ahh.”  I don’t want to read a book that doesn’t give the “happy ever after,” or the “we can work it out,” ending.

Thanks for joining us and see you next week!
 If you have a question or comment you’d like us to muse upon, do not hesitate to contact me Christine Steeves-Speakman  at

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