When I write a story, I usually start with an idea in mind, a daydream that had been playing over and over in my mind until my fingers can't hold back anymore. I have at least one part of the story planned out, one scene that I'm basing the entire structure off of, and I build from there.

Sometimes, when I just feel the need to silence the whirling chaos in my head, I just start to write in a notebook, on a bar napkin, in a text message, and just spin pretty words into tangible form. These generally are short pieces, a few paragraphs at most, a few sentences sometimes. These little pieces of writing get me through the day.

Creating a Short Story

Combining those two forms of writing is usually how I make a story. I start with a single idea, a single thought that I can't shake, and I build on it until I've fleshed out a scene, character, idea, then, I let my fingers take over.

Generally, when I write, I have a beginning and end, as well as a few key, or exciting scenes locked in my head. Keeping those in mind, I move between the scenes I've already fleshed out in my head. As I work, I use the style of short, prose writing to fill in information about the scene; sights, sounds, visuals, thoughts, feelings.

Colors twist in broken shapes, moving along the distant horizon in a haze of light. As the sun slips wearily over the mountains, above its head the sky begins to burn, one last show before the great stretch of night takes shape in the sky.

Short moments like this break up dialogue, action, and other important scenes that keep the story driving forward. It gives the reader a taste of the world they are leaning through the window to see, taking them deeper, beyond the black, typed words.

Here is one of the stories I had written in the past few years, a twisted story of Alice diving down the rabbit hole, submitted for a short story contest.

Alice Goes Mad in Wonderland

             "Come on! We're already late," Whitey grumbled, reaching to switch off the car light Alissa was using to put on her lipstick.

              "Hold your horses, you can wait," she grumbled back, pressing her lips together and putting the tube into the glove compartment. "Now I'm ready."

              They hopped out of the car and made their way down the road. The 'subtle' Halloween get-together had erupted into chaos, spilling out onto the lawn amidst the multicolored lights that were reflected in the dark grass. Excitement bubbled up inside her chest, fizzing like champagne bubbles. She hadn't been to a party in ages, and you couldn't graduate college without having a couple crazy tales of misadventure and trouble. She needed a new one, a fresh story to share when people asked her how college was going.

              A hammered Ace Ventura was taking a leak next to the front walk, and a girl whose outfit could only be described as a lingerie model with a trench coat, was vomiting in the bushes while her two friends held her hair and sobbed about boys. Alissa laughed and tweaked Whitey's rabbit ears, nudging him in the ribs with her elbow.

              "Please don't let me get like that tonight," she begged. 

"I thought you wanted to get crazyyy?" He asked with a grin, dragging out the last word.

Skipping up the front steps, the cool touch of night cooled the flush of her skin. In it’s dark embrace, the excitement that danced beneath her skin didn’t seem so overwhelming.

The entranceway let forth a tangle of shouting, pumping bass, and a kaleidoscope of colors. Smoke curled down the hallway from deep within the place, bringing with it the pungent aroma of very loud green. The front hall, leading its way into the depths of the house, was filled with charged up characters from a hundred different universes, their veins burning with liquor. Alissa stepped over a spilled beer so her black flats wouldn't get wet, and managed to slide unnoticed past Fred Flintstone, who had a very passionate Cruella de Ville pressed up against the wall, their lips entwined.

"Booze first," Whitey shouted in her ear as she sniffed the air about a flight of stairs.

The stairs led down into the dark places from which the paper smoke wafted.

She smiled and nodded at him, twirling about to the trippy music. Her blue dress, with its white apron, flapped about her stocking covered legs. As she finished her pirouette, she stumbled and skidded to a stop, face to chest with another partier. Heat surged up her neck and into her cheeks, helping the burn of excitement and nervousness take control of her limbs once again. Mumbling an apology, she stared at this stranger’s chest.

"Don't worry about it love. It looks like the whole crew is here," came the smooth voice, hooked at the edges in what had to be a wry smile.

Alissa's eyes traveled up from the boy's mustard-green, tweed jacket, past his sky-blue bowtie and popped, white collar, to a beaming smile that filled her gaze. She blushed again as she met his eyes, blue with sunbursts of gold and yellow jagged around the pupils. Her hand went to fix the ribbon in her hair, and she took her hand off his shoulder, which she had used to keep from falling. His eyes cut through her, and the wrinkled laugh lines at the corners made her heart flutter and fill herself with thoughts of idiocy.

"Oh, hi... I'm..."

"Alice, what a pleasure to meet you," chided the handsome stranger with a smirk, doffing his green top-hat. He bowed deep over her hand, brushing his lips over her knuckles in a smooth, mocking way. "How about we all get some drinks and then I take you to a mad little party."

"You had me at drinks, let's get shitty," Whitey called, hopping off into the kitchen for the big bowl of Jungle Juice.

"He's certainly impatient," Mad smiled, leading her towards the bowl.

The kitchen was just as packed as the hallway had been, filled with shocking characters who fluttered about her vision in a twisting frenzy. Amongst the pulse of the multi-colored strobe, she almost lost her new friend in the chaos of it all.

Whitey scooped them all drinks, passing around the plastic cups of red liquid and raising his glass to them.

"Holy hell, that tastes like someone dumped a handle of Fleischmann's in there," she coughed, grimacing as the burning followed the sickly-sweet taste.

“This will bring out the crazy in you,” Whitey grinned, nudging her with his elbow. “Chug it, and let’s go find out where that smell is coming from. You said you wanted tonight to get weird.”

"If you want a trip, I can certainly help you out with that," the Mad Hatter charmed, pulling from his pocket a handful of little red pills. "In honor of the great Mr. Carroll, let's have ourselves a little tumble down the rabbit hole."

Alissa looked at him, his smiling eyes growing until they were all she saw. Her heart was torn, struggling uselessly between a bellyful of nervous, writhing adders, and veins filled with glory and adrenaline. 

Whitey took one up with a grin, holding it up to the light so that the stobe’s blurred the pills outline in twisting colors.

“Does this one make you smaller or turn you into the giant?” He laughed.

“This one helps you break the barrier between our world and theirs,” Mad smiled, his grin wide in the dancing light.

Mad winked at her slyly, and took one himself, holding out the last one before the flashing crimson and violet light in the corner. She shivered as the light struck his chiseled jaw, and tilted her head back, letting her mouth open so her tongue could tease out between soft, red lips. His smile grew as he placed the tab slowly on her tongue. It stuck, slowly beginning to melt, and she washed it down with the jungle juice. She waited, living in the moment, swaying to the thrumming beat that thumped from the speakers.

As the music and liqueur soothed her limbs, she tilted her head back again in the colorful lights, closing her eyes. She felt Mad's rough, worn hand take hers and spin her about. When her eyelid's fluttered back open, she was plunged into a strange new world.

The colors began to ooze through the air, settling softly like dripping paint to vibrate in her existence. The colors began to move something deep within her, setting her body on fire. She took a step and the world shifted with her as she stumbled into Mad's arms. He beamed down at her with his untamable eyes, and she glanced over at Whitey who was pawing at his wrinkled nose.

Whitey twitched away from the sudden movements of all the cartoon characters that erupted from the television around them. In the sudden surge of colors and feelings, and that vibration that seeped from the floor and into their bones, his eyes were overwhelmed by the life of it all.

Fred and Daphne stumbled through the back door, searching for clues to their latest mystery, while Hermione Granger grinded hard against Doctor Who. Characters had stepped out of where they should never leave, invading her Wonderland, taking over her trip in their multitude, making her shrink to the size of a doll in Mad's arms.

Why were they there? How had she arrived? She had to follow the rabbit! She glanced over to Whitey as he laughed at something Mad said, and checked the pocket watch hanging from his white vest.

"What time is it?" She stammered, the poison in her veins sending her off into a tasteful oblivion.

"Don't you know? It's tea time," Mad grinned wickedly, leading the way down into the depths of the house, where acrid smoke and vibrant, fluttering lights beckoned them.

Whitey looked over at her before he descended the steps to the basement, his hair wild and erratic between his bunny ears.

“Do you want to go?” He asked her, his eyes wandering around the slow motion of the party all around them.

The surge of excitement made her skin hot to the touch, and the burn of it in her veins had her limbs shivering pleasantly.

“This is fun,” she whispered into his ear as she pushed past him and into the stairway.

It was as if the earth swallowed them up, plunging them deep into the Hatters lair.

In the stone basement, white smoked and dazzling lights danced about potted plants. Their twisting leaves and blooming flowers waved at her, beckoning to be joined in quiet story-telling. She laughed nervously, lost in the heat, the swirls of colors and movement.

A troop of hardy individuals watched her from their seats about a long table, passing paper and pipes about them, tapping glowing ashes into translucent dishes, and sipping on colored drinks from pitchers and cups.

"Hm, new arrivals for our little party," oozed the blue man, his body warping and twisting before her eyes. The boy, lounging in his armchair, puffed heavily on a fat cigar, acrid blue smoke twisting about his face, curling in his hair like a serpent.

"Never late, my dear fellow, it's always six," laughed Mad, raising his glass.

Whitey chuckled and took a seat, helping himself to the special brownies that were piled on the table.

Alice slipped further into this new reality, tittering happily as Mad helped her settle casually onto his knee, letting her take a long drag from the spliff that he held at a rakish angle in his nimble fingers. 

"Everyone this is Alice, and her fine companion, Whitey," introduced Mad, wrapping one, strong arm about her waist.

Her skin tingled at his touch, enticed by the allure of his lack of care, and his impulsive movements. She smiled and leaned back against his clothing, breathing in the scents of him, and all those that filled the room. She liked him, his intensity, his fire.

"Nooo," she giggled.  "My name is..."

The others waited, watching her lively, shifting eyes. Who was she again? How had she arrived in this world of insanity, with this cast of shady characters? Whitey grinned vacantly at her, nibbling at the sweets in his little paws. One of his ears bent down to tickled the corner of his eye. A wide, wicked smile eased into existence from the shadows of the basement, beaming at her, inviting Alice to come play. A moment of fear clutched its withered hand at her throat as her own madness dawned upon her.

Then, the fear left her, and she stared at the wild eyes of those seated about the little tea party. That wildness, that insanity, filled her to bursting until her veins were sticky and sweet and filled with a need to slide further into madness.

Mad pulled his hat down to a jaunty angle, sweeping his arm about the party. 

"Welcome to Wonderland," he cackled.

She slipped further into the twisting, pleasant nothingness of the void, losing track of what once was.