Wanda, the Wicked Writer of the Northwest

pumpkin

Happy Halloween to all of my writer friends!

This is a story about Wanda the Writer…          

            Wanda never went to the mailbox without her baseball bat. For every rejection she found, she gave the box one whack. Of course, this scared the bats that lived in the box’s belfry silly, but Wanda was always so angry she didn’t notice.

          Back inside her house, Wanda meticulously filed away each rejection. The rejected stories about gardening she kept neatly stacked under a leaky flowerpot. The children’s stories she filed in the bottom of her bird’s cage, and the novel rejections she filled at the bottom of her cat’s litter box.

          Wanda was especially chagrined at the rejection of her latest 500,000-word novel. What were they thinking? It had a plot and everything! Actually, it had several plots—it was about a gravedigger who was afraid of dirt.

          Other stories were rejected because they didn’t follow the required format. Format, smormat! So what if the stories weren’t double-spaced? So what if she used the Rave font instead of Times Roman? So what if she didn’t include a SASE? One story was returned because she didn’t put any postage on it. The nerve.

          They had to be punished. The whole lot. Publishers. Agents. Newspaper editors. All of them.

          The ticked witch went to her kitchen and whipped up a batch of special candy for the rejecters. She’d show them to have a little respect. She filled her black kettle with a recipe of special hard candies that turned into wiggling slugs when they were sucked on. After the candies were wrapped in Halloween paper, she put them into a tote bag and took off for New York. Thanks to her new 300 high-speed broom, she was able to zip in and out of each office without being seen.

          Back home, Wanda poured a glass of wine and lit the candle in her Halloween pumpkin. Then she turned on CNN and waited patiently for the story to break. Soon, all over the city, there were reports of people in the publishing businesses choking on slugs. Oh, they just choked a little—they didn’t die. And how those slugs loved to sing! When they were spat out, they stood up and sang in a perfect imitation of Aretha Franklin:

R-E-S-P-E-C-T! (Find out what it means to me…take care of TCB!)

          Wanda put out the cat and turned out the lights. Tomorrow, she’d start a new novel. This one would be really big.

Happy Halloween!

Janelle Meraz Hooper: Substack, Instagram, Twitter, Pinterest, Amazon, Barnes & Noble


 

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© 2007, Janelle Meraz Hooper.

Originally published in Free Pecan Pie and Other Chick Stories

Paperback & eBook

(Illustration for blog only)

 

 

Boogie, Boots, & Cherry Pie

9-9-14 Boogie front cover

New cover!
Boogie, Boots & Cherry Pie
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Amazon and others- paperback & Kindle- suitable for New Adult and up.
Janelle Meraz Hooper
See my other books and short stories: Janelle Meraz Hooper

When the great guy that Lily meets at her company’s St. Patrick’s Day party takes her home he discovers she lives at the Zoo, an apartment building that caters to tenants who have exotic pets. Unfortunately, one of the animals is missing and when Mike drops her off the first thing he sees is a sign on the front door:

Please Don’t Let Out The Snake!

While Lily is trying to figure out how Boogie, a big boa constrictor, is getting into her room, Mike, her new boyfriend, has his own problems. He’s a jewelry designer who is in danger of defaulting on a contract because all of his workers live on a flood plain and the river is rising. When it finally floods, everyone, including their pets, disappear without a trace. Suddenly, Mike isn’t worried about his business anymore. He’s worried about his workers and their families. Are they okay? Where could they be?

Filled with lively characters including: a Jamaican landlady, Reggae, whose traditional headdress holds her phone, iPod, and assorted office supplies; her boyfriend Mingo who thinks he doesn’t fit in; and Velma, a woman who collects snakes—big ones. Tension rises when Reggae and Lily begin to fear that Boogie is stalking Boots, Reggae’s pet iguana. 


Reader’s comment on Amazon

5.0 out of 5 starsBest Yet!
September 16, 2011
Format: Kindle Edition
A romantic ribbon weaves its way through a latticework of exotic pets, jewelry, and Northwest cuisine including cherry pie! All of this against the backdrop of urban Seattle. Janelle Meraz Hooper’s sense of humor and descriptive dialogue keeps you smiling. Reggae describes what hapens to snakes in Jamaica. ” …but whenever anyone finds one over deh, dem beat it until it’s so flat it’s halfway to being a belt.” The author also adds drama based on a Washington State natural disaster, making this love story her best yet!

______________________________________________________________________

Kindle and others. Also in paperback. Suitable for NA (New Adult) and up.

See my other books and short stories on Amazon.com/

Janelle Meraz Hooper is an award-winning writer originally from Oklahoma who now lives in Washington State.

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Thanks for stopping by! Janelle

 

Wanda, the Witless Witch of Boo! Cul-de-sac

wanda the witch hoardstrom illustration

See the book on Amazon

Free Pecan Pie and Other Chick Stories

Amazon and others-Paperback and Kindle. Suitable for New Adults and up. Published by iUniverse.

Janelle Meraz Hooper
See my other books and short stories: Janelle Meraz Hooper

Wanda, the Witless Witch of Boo! Cul-de-sac circled twice around her split-level home in an expensive neighborhood before she landed her broom on the roof. As always, she slid into her home through the air duct to the kitchen fan.
“Darn!” she cried as the blades sliced her black hat and ripped her hair. “I forgot to turn the fan off again.”
See why they call her witless?
Okay, she was a little addled. But beautiful. Blond, and petite, she bought all of her clothes at Hoardstrom’s and flew to LA every week to have her hair done at Chez Cher-Fawcett’s.
Stopping only to check her makeup in the mirror, she opened the sliding French doors and threw out the pot full of frogs, slugs, and spiders left over from her morning spells.
“Darn crows!” she cried as the black birds flew down from the trees and covered her yard. “Why is it all the crows in the neighborhood end up at my house?”
Trust me. She’ll never figure it out.
“Who’s at the door?” she’d call toward the front of the house whenever she heard a scratching noise on the porch. But no one was ever there. She’d been glad when her husband had agreed to fix the doorbell and had left one morning for the hardware store. That was over three years ago. He’d been working so hard on it that she hadn’t seen him since.
Each day she noticed the hole by the front door was a little bigger and the red and green wires from the doorbell were all over the porch, so she hoped he was getting close to finishing.
Each night, she tried to wait up for Clyde, but about twelve o’clock every night she’d get tired, so she’d put his supper on the table and go to bed without him. The next morning, his plate would be empty. The cat, that grew fatter and fatter, never seemed to miss Clyde. Wanda didn’t know why.
While Clyde was off at the hardware store buying a new doorbell, she kept plenty busy. All day long she ran back and forth, chasing the crows off the back deck, and answering the front door whenever she heard scratching. No one was ever there.
Wanda was getting lonely. Maybe, when she saw Clyde again, she’d tell him to forget the doorbell, board the hole up, and put up a doorknocker. Of course, then he would have to go to the hardware store to buy the knocker, so she was reticent to do that.
The beautiful witch got lonelier and lonelier. And witlesser and witlesser.
Wanda decided that she was too slow, and that was the reason she never saw anyone when she heard noises on the porch, so she began riding her broom down the seven steps to the front door. The problem with that was her broom was too fast, and she could never stop in time. Over and over, Wanda had to peel herself off the inside of her front door.
And so her life went. Year after year. The crows got noisier and noisier. She didn’t know why. The cat got fatter and fatter. The hole by the front door got bigger and bigger.
“When is that man going to finish?” she asked her fellow witches. “I swear, he’s slower than a dead June bug.”
Did I tell you yet that she was totally without wit? I think I did.
Finally, Wanda was at the end of her broom. She’d fix the doorbell herself. She knew nothing about electricity, but how hard could it be? The first thing to do was go to the hardware store and pick up some doorbell stuff. Maybe the women there had seen Clyde. Maybe they could tell him to come home and change clothes. He must be getting pretty ripe.
The women at the store pretended not to know Clyde, but Wanda wasn’t fooled. She knew they were trying to keep him all to themselves. After all, he was quite a catch, and a heck of a doorbell-fixer.
When she got back she got right to work. It started to rain so she decided to work from the inside (witches melt in the rain, you know). With her brand new sledgehammer she broke a hole in the inside wall. That’s when she discovered that, all those years, it wasn’t company at her front door. It was birds, nesting between the walls; they came and went through the hole left by the broken doorbell. The house quickly filled with black birds of all sizes. Flying. Diving. Squeaking. And making a mess on her orange wall-to-wall carpet.
Wanda closed the doors and windows and opened the fireplace insert doors so they could find their way out, but they were very comfortable inside and showed no inclination to leave. That’s because the birds were bats, and it was still light outside. Bats hate sunlight as much as witches hate rain.
Not that Wanda knew they were bats.
Say it with me: witless!
Finally, Wanda called a fellow witch for help. “Esmerelda? Get over here right away and help me get rid of some birds, will you? Somehow, they’ve gotten into the house.”
After Wanda cleared the house of bats she was a happy Witless Witch, and she knew things would be perfect once Clyde got home. And he would come home. After all, she was Wanda, the Witless Witch of Boo! Cul-de-sac. And quite a looker. How could he live without her?
And where was Clyde? At the hardware store, wandering around the parking lot, looking for his car. He’d completely forgotten that Wanda had dropped him off on her broom years ago.
Turns out, he was the perfect match for Wanda. Zero wit. None.

The end


Wanda, The Witless Witch of Boo! Cul-de-sac, is one of the stories in my Free Pecan Pie and Other Chick Stories  mixed genre book. Published by iUniverse.

Illustration for blog only.

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My Favorite Cowboy

7-29-14 henry darrowHenry Darrow

I met Henry at the 2014 High chaparral Reunion. what a nice guy; his fans love him!

Henry Darrow (born EnriqueTomás Delgado) overcame life-threatening illness, crippling anxiety and prejudice to become internationally famous as sexy, complex “Manolito Montoya” in the western The High Chaparral (1967-1971). He was the first actor of Puerto Rican heritage to star in a television series. “Henry survived and had a career when if you were Latino, you couldn’t be just good, you had to be beyond great and that’s Henry,” says noted writer/entertainer Rick Najera. At the height of his fame Darrow put his hard-won career on the line to open doors for other Hispanics. He has continued to break ground for over fifty years as a working actor. He was the first Latino to portray Zorro, the first Latino to win a Daytime Emmy for Best Supporting Actor and in 2012 he received the prestigious ALMA award for Lifetime Achievement from the National Council of La Raza (NCLR). “Henry Darrow: Lightning in the Bottle” is the must-read portrait of this inspirational, fiercely determined, endearing and enduring performer.


Follow Henry on Twitter: @HenryDarrow1

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See my books! Janelle Meraz Hooper

How to Fight Big Hair

Short stories suitable for all.

7-15-14 photos for big hair blog 2

Amazon and others. Paperback and Kindle.
Published by iUniverse.

How To Fight Big Hair
from Free Pecan Pie and Other Chick Stories
See the book on Amazon!

When our children were young, I had a friend who told me it was time for her five-year-old son to go to school—she had taught him everything she could.
I looked at it this way: the teachers could teach my daughter all of that 3-R stuff—I was never good at it anyway. I could teach her about fine literature, art, the history of oriental carpets—and how to make tiny guest soaps in little plastic muffin pans with a microwave.
Okay, so all we did was buy the book with the soap recipes. We never actually got around to making the soap. The book is probably still on a bookshelf somewhere next to the ones on One Hundred Ways to Braid Your Hair and How to Have an Archaeological Dig in Your Own Basement.
When she was about eleven, we reached a point where she had her own ideas, so her father and I invented “mini-scholarships” that we tucked into her Christmas stocking. I think that most of the money went for sheet music, extra flute lessons, and Judy Blume books. Even with the scholarships, she still had plenty of time leftover for camping and fishing trips, cooking lessons, and documentaries on the educational television channels.
There did come a day, when she was a senior in high school, she said she’d learned all she could from me. It was time for her to move on. From what I could tell, she’d moved on to big hair, frosted eye shadow, and boys.
No! She couldn’t quit on me now, I still had so much to share with her! I was already looking into opera tickets, museum passes, and jazz concerts.
I was on the county art commission at the time. Each day, my mailbox was filled with colorful brochures from art galleries. I wanted to share them with her, but she was too busy curling her hair and talking to boys on the phone. Stacks of colorful pamphlets stacked up on the windowsill of her room. Unread. I knew they were unread because they were covered with dust. Any parent who knows her stuff can tell you that printed materials in a teenager’s room that are actually being read are covered in food crumbs.
Something had to be done fast. The stacks of art brochures were beginning to block out the light in her bedroom. Since the bedroom was already facing north, it got too little light to begin with. If one of us didn’t back down, she could be facing a health problem. Maybe I should start slipping vitamin D into her colas?
I noticed that, each morning, she got up early and sat cross-legged on the bathroom cabinet for at least thirty-minutes while she tortured and sprayed those straight locks into curls tight enough to last through outdoor gym class in the rain. There was only one curling iron, one electrical outlet, and one mirror. Desperation spawned inspiration. Maybe I could make that big hair work for me!
That night, I sat down and cut out each little picture from the brochures and taped them to the mirror right in front of where she sat to curl her hair. Some were beautiful. Some were funny. Some were just plain weird. Each day, after she went to bed, I put up new pictures. Each morning, she’d go into the bathroom and while the curling iron heated up, she’d take down the pictures—one by one. Over and over she asked me to put them someplace else. She never did catch on that they were just where I wanted them: in her way. Soon, the stack of art brochures on her windowsill was gone. Only the dust was left.
She’s older now. Styles have changed. The hair is much shorter and less time consuming. The garish eye shadow has been replaced with more subtle colors, and the boys have been narrowed down to two: a husband and a young son.
She really has moved on, but I’ve kept those pictures in a file. Someday I might use them again—when my grandson decides  he’s learned all he needs to know from me. I’m thinking I’ll glue them all over the backboard on his basketball hoop. Now if I can just figure out how to get up there—and back down without breaking my neck!


Free Pecan Pie and Other Chick Stories, Paperback & Kindle.  Illustration is not in the book….

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My newest novel

A One-way Cruise to Africa