Heath McNease – Waiting for Godot

Find more thought-provoking and/or fun music by Heath McNease!
Check out my newest book- The Shorter Things Collection!

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The Shorter Things Collection

My newest release is an anthology of poems, flash fiction, and short stories I wrote over the last few years that do not fit so comfortably into the Young Adult genre. It’s for everyone, especially those who find it hard to read a whole novel. Sometimes short is all you have time for. I apologize in advance though; just because these pieces are short doesn’t mean they’re all sweet. The genres span from haiku to horror, and many in between. Get your ebook copy today.

I’d like to share with you my favorite poem in the collection, Color In Circles.

I felt bold. Bold. Bold as a box of bright crayons on gray recycled paper.

A rectangular page ripped from a Cinderella coloring book,

That utility box of Crayolas, ten predictable shades

Blue, Yellow, Red, Purple, Green, Brown, Orange, Pink, Black, and White

Primary to primal.

A rainbowed Decalogue stains the cheap pages

To color Cinderella in her temporary magical dress

Losing. Losing. Losing her damn glass slipper.

Graffiti without boundaries,

Void of trained aesthetics, haphazard, fearless.

A picture to reflect the stunted artist

Not for public display. The ten shades reveal a blushing testament.

What is to be done with this? This. This rendering by a frantic child?

Paint over it. Disguise the disgrace.

Slather over the mistakes with black ooze and let it dry.

Etch out a design. No, scratch out a warning—

Don’t. Don’t. Don’t waltz with strangers, Prince Charmings, narcissists.

Toss the testament in the trash with the glass slippers.

Abandon it. The mockery, the etched remnant.

Find a fresh page of thick bleached parchment.

New. New. New from a coloring book for grown-ups.

Purchase the jumbo box of crayons—ninety-six shades, nearly one-hundred hues.

Remember. Remember. Remember sitting at the table, one summer in the early‘80s.

“Use circles,” mom instructed, making bold impressions, not feeble scribbles.

Shades of blossoming pinks filled the empty space between lines.

Sunrise-tinged flowers of carnation, salmon, and fuschia.

Take the new page.

Grasp the renewed legacy.

Create. Create. Create again and again and again.

Capture the shades between bold and afraid.

Keep coloring.

Use circles.

There is no end.

 


 

It is all for the bright!

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So, Hero…

“So, hero, are you going to visit?” Nate asks.

Jaycee eyes her purple notebook and winks.

“Of course. I have a story to tell her.”

Excerpt from my short fantasy tale, Tigress. Sign up for my newsletter and read the whole story for free!


 

It is all for the bright!

New subscribers to my newsletter get a free ebook copy of Tigress!

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Paralyzed

 I watch the van pull away. An eager voice from behind me sings, “Can I have your autograph?” I’m about to refuse when I feel a prick in my neck. I collapse into a heap of striped spandex and leather onto the cold sidewalk.

I hear and see everything around me, but I’m paralyzed.

-Tigress


It is all for the bright!

New subscribers to my newsletter get a free ebook copy of Tigress!

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His Biggest Fans Were Sheep

  “Let me tell you about another loser God used—his name was David.  He was young and scrawny and musical.  In fact, this artsy dude was one of the first true singer/songwriters.  Of course, his biggest fans were sheep.”—eyeroll—“No one thought he was anything special, even his own family.  He was a loser in the world’s eyes.  But God used that loser to slay a giant.  God can use you, too!”

Dude, I don’t even own a slingshot,” I joke under my breath to Kayla.

On The Outward Appearance



It is all for the bright!

New subscribers to my newsletter get a free ebook copy of Tigress!

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The Perceptions Anthology: Special Needs

  Braydon burst into laughter. Today was his tenth birthday. He couldn’t stop smiling. Memories of his last birthday party had faded a long time ago. He had been four years old. He’d loved dinosaurs and was an only child then.

  Every year he was given a different, yet equally lame, excuse. His parents claimed they were too poor, too busy, or too something. Brayden knew the truth—all they cared about was Katie.

  Brayden’s little sister, Katie, was five years old and had Down syndrome. His parents’ lives revolved around Katie. Last year, they actually forgot it was his birthday, until he reminded them at bedtime.  They promised to make it up to him.

-Excerpt from Monster-Shark, my contribution to the Perceptions Anthology: Special Needs by Inklings Publishing, a collection of stories for educators, teachers, and students that include characters with special needs.

***

I’m honored to be included in this anthology. Growing up with a brother with Asperger’s Syndrome (years before this form of autism had an official name), I wanted to write a story representing kids who feel unnoticed because the special needs of their brother or sister take up much of their parents’ attention, time, and money.

I also interviewed a friend of mine, the mother of a sweet boy named Enzo, who has Cri du Chat syndrome and she told me, with tears in her eyes, about what often happens when Enzo plays with other children in restaurant play areas. They always make him “it” and run away from him, screaming. He has fun, but it breaks her heart. Then I interviewed some kids under twelve and asked them about what games they could think of to play that would include kids with special conditions like Enzo’s.

Monster-Shark was the result.


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Learn more about Cri Du Chat Awareness Week– May 1-7.

Someone Like Bill

Critique. It’s not everyone’s favorite thing, right? But as a writer, critique groups are necessary for me, a good hurt. Of course, not every circle of writers is a good mix or a constructive influence. I don’t know the secret formula for finding the perfect critique group. Somehow I’ve been super lucky. I attend three amazing groups that suit my location, my genres, my commitment, and my skill level. They accept my writing for what it is, yet challenge me to do better without insulting my ineptitude. Sure, it’s not always sunshine and rainbows. Critique hurts sometimes, no matter what. And we still debate the common trivialities: the Oxford comma, clichés, and the ever-popular-bad-apple, adverbs.

Today a writer in my critique group lost his battle with cancer.

William Barnes wrote historical fiction. His latest work-in-progress dealt with the sordid history of the Texas Rangers. Before I continue, I must confess—I’m a Yankee. When we arrived at the “Western Expansion” portion of our U.S. History books in high school, our teacher skipped it, claiming this part of U.S. history wasn’t important, as it contained dubious facts and silly folktales. In contrast, my children took two Texas history classes before graduating from elementary school, which I considered suspiciously xenophobic. Bill read his work-in-progress at critique group and shot bullets through my prejudice. In his native Texan drawl, he read his excerpt aloud, a complex tale with Rangers hunting down Mexican-heritage citizens while those in Congress debated boundaries and laws. Conflict, complexity, humor, and action surrounded the historical facts of his story and I was surprisingly intrigued. Funny how a brilliantly scripted “silly folktale” can change minds, huh?   

But I gained more than a new respect for Texas history from Bill. That same night, I shared my piece with the group, a flash fiction horror story. Bill liked it so much he emailed me later and volunteered to beta-read anything I had. I sent him a YA fantasy short story. He sincerely loved it and detailed the reasons. When I lack confidence in my writing abilities, it helps to recall Bill’s words. A Texas grandfather and longtime-writer of historical fiction went out of his way to encourage me, a YA speculative fiction writer.

Though cancer stole Bill from the world, his encouraging words live on. They lend me confidence on days of doubt. Before he passed, I had the precious opportunity to thank Bill for his encouragement. I imagine him riding into heaven on a wild mustang.

Critique is important. Facing tough criticism molds us into better writers. But there’s a flip side. Encouragement also makes us better. If there’s someone like Bill in your critique group, thank them today.

 


It is all for the bright!

New subscribers to my newsletter get a free ebook copy of Tigress!

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Teens On Fire

  “It’s Anne, not Andrea,” I correct him.  I don’t smile, but Brad’s flashy grin remains unstoppable.

“Right—Anne.  Sorry. I’ve always been bad with names.  Anyway, you’re going to have such an authentic, life-changing experience at the Teens on Fire retreat.  There’ll be paint ball, capture the flag, and all kinds of crazy games.  Plus, the speaker is the bomb.  And I can’t even tell you how super-cool the worship band is.  We were lucky, I mean, blessed, they were even available.  They’re a Dove award-winning group!  Of course, that was a few years ago…”

 

On The Outward Appearance by D. Marie Prokop


It is all for the bright!

New subscribers to my newsletter get a free ebook copy of Tigress!

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