Category Archives: My Writing

Actors Trying To Imitate Boston Accents

Writing Challenge Friday over at once again had a challenging topic – “Describe one thing, 10 different ways”

I recently read the epic novel “Mystic River” written by Dennis Lehane. Awesome book by the way. I knew there was a movie made so I had to see if it lived up to the book. Obviously it didn’t but what irked me is the way the actors try to imitate a Boston accent. Being a Boston native, I can tell you that we DO NOT sound like that and why do they try – if you want an authentic movie based in Boston, hire Boston actors!

Anyway, my list of 10 ways to describe one thing revolves around that pet peeve of mine…

“When actors try to imitate a Boston accent in a movie”

In no particular order

1) It’s like a hound dog trying to whistle

2) Its not wicked pissa

3) It’s like pulling teeth without any novacaine

4) It’s like understanding Charlie Brown’s parents

5) It’s like trailer trash speaking fluent french

6) It’s like totally going against your gut feeling

7) It’s like Snooki and the whole cast of “Jersey Shore” having a serious conversation while stoned

8) It’s like a burglar getting caught taking a shower in the same house he just robbed

9) It’s like little old ladies gossiping to each other using bullhorns

10) Fran Drescher’s laugh in the show ” The Nanny”

11) A misconstrued fart?

12) Bob Dylan singing – anything!


Flash Fiction Challenge – I Sat By The Ocean

Chuck Wendig over at has a Friday Flash Fiction Challenge and this weeks was to pick a random song from Pandora or Spotify or iTunes or wherever, write a story using 1000 words. The following is my entry.

“I Sat By The Ocean” by Queens Of The Stoneage

Black plumes of smoke rise into the cerulean sky and a fierce northern wind of charcoal grey ash collides with a southern breeze of  an ocean mist. Mini-tornados swirl around the beach and stir up grains of sand that can be blinding. Gangly palm trees crash into each other and with the wind, the noise is deafening! Three palms lose their foothold and fall to the ground which brings forth a spiritual smelly mix of coconut and rotten eggs. One doesn’t know whether to have a Pina Colada or choke to death. The ocean’s tide is on its way in and the waves are turbulent.

My name is Walker and this horror is my home. To escape this terrifying ordeal, we must form a mass exodus to the sea.

Change looms large before us and it is inevitable that it will consume all of us one day. It has been a slow daunting process but it is also a process that steamrolls it way through without forgiveness. The world around me and my fellow man has been turning into a  molten lava mess and the land is crumbling before our eyes. For us, terra firma is no longer an option and we must adapt to living under water. Our feathered cousins in the air are safe but they too will eventually fall into the maleficent succession of time. Today, civilization cannot wait for us to evolve naturally so we have built a machine that can transform us from human to sea creature.

My name is Walker and I volunteered to assure everyone gets through this machine.

The outside of the machine is laced with silver tubes that emit puffs of steam with every rotation of its crankcase. Large brass knobs and steam gauges that stand at attention give out performance details. Sounds of bleeps and bloops filter through the sighing steam puffs. A bank of LCD monitors line the upper and lower sections of the left side of the machine. They call this the “Command Center”. The brains of the operation.

My name is Walker and I have been trained to keep this machine running at all costs.

A large opening in the front allows someone to enter the machine by simply walking in. When the cycle is complete, they exit horizontally – belly down, and fall straight into the bay. Our machine is so thorough in the transformation process the body is instantly adapted to its new surroundings and habitat. Only the mind needs time to adjust but with the memories of the world around us crumbling, this time is minimal and then we are fully transformed into a being that can live and survive under water. Our scientists have kept the details of how the machine works confidential and I suppose I really don’t care how it works, as long as it does work.

My name is Walker and I have been trained to not ask questions.

As the machine works through the day and night, one by one, defying the inevitable and changing our life course, I sat by the ocean wondering how will I adapt to living under the sea. The joyous thought of weightlessly gliding through wonderlands of colorful sea flora, the tranquil and trusting friendship with the majestic sea turtles, dolphins and whales overwhelmed me. I realize now that I want to welcome this new world with open arms, but…

My name is Walker and I don’t know how to swim.

This little issue of mine is disconcerting yes, but I was assured time and time again by our scientists that the machine is flawless and as part of the transformation process will it not only allow us to breath under water, but will also grant us webbed hands and tail fins. There is no possible way for anyone to drown. “Impossible”!  “You are one with the elements once the machine has completed your cycle”.

My name is Walker and my homeland withers away in front of my eyes.

5 days gone. My training has been paying off and no one has been left behind. I should feel proud but for some reason I don’t. Is it possible that we have been hasty in our decision to leave this land with its plethora of primary and offspring colors behind us? Will I no longer taste the sweetness of an orange, the tartness of a lemon or the decadence of the coconut? The shade of the mighty oak with all its deciduous followers in full? The silky feel of the green grassy plains between my toes? I ponder. I sigh.

My name is Walker…

I hear a voice. A cry actually. Behind one of the swaying palm trees. I can’t leave the machine but I remind myself that “no one gets left behind” so I follow the voice and prepare to persuade this person that all will be alright and to enter the machine.

My name is Walker and I love the feel of the warm sand between my toes.

Behind a palm tree I find a young woman kneeling in the sand, sobbing. Her head buried into her hands. I put a hand on her shoulder for comfort – she shakes away, startled. She raises her head and I recognize her. We had been playmates when we were younger. Afraid of nothing. Everyday an adventure running through our land. I ask her why she was crying. Her response was melancholic. My feelings were parallel with hers.

My name is Walker and I have second thoughts.

I turn to look back at the machine and there was no one. Are we done? Am I ready? Is she ready? Are we all truthfully ready? The plumes of black smoke have morphed into a grayish haze which surrounds everything in sight. I turn back to ask her if she is ready. We stare into each others eyes and I take her hand into mine.

Our name will be Walker and we can start over on this beautiful land.

Tessa Kealey: Flash Friday: Flashes of Inspiration

Words of Wisdom!



Tessa Kealey: Flash Friday: Flashes of Inspiration.

How Do You Do It?

Get your mind out of the gutter now! I am talking about writing here.

I want to know what your process is from idea to at least first draft of either a poem, short story or a novel. I have read of the outline process, getting to know your characters backstory before anything is even written and having notebooks filled with ideas and using those quips and notes as the backbone to your writing.

Is any of this true in the real world

I guess my real question is how do you get organized when you are sitting down to write? I know I have at least 2 writers that follow me so if you can, please help me out! My book is in this notebook, that notebook, my laptop, my desktop, my ipad or my iphone..Arrghh! I need to get organized and need help getting there.

Thanks all!

100 Word Wednesday

100Word Wednesday

A while back I read about people just writing 100 words to convey a message or feeling or whatever. I thought the idea was pretty cool so I thought I would start my own 100 Word Wednesday Posts.


“Aye, she’s given me a fair shake,” the captain whispered. No woman has done that for me. Graceful and bold in her own way. Fast when the wind was with her, steady when against. I am going to miss this old gal; she’s been good to me”.

They sounded like gunshots and cannons. Thunderous booms could be heard for miles. Splintering wood strewn about the air came down looking like lightning bolts against the luminous fire. The billowing smoke sent a chill down his spine, as he knew this was the end. He silently bowed his head. “Mercy”

Sex, Drugs and Rock n Roll

I am a big music fan and also a fan of Erotica Lit. So I wrote this many years ago and it still surprises me how many times this piece is requested. It is a mockery of a Penthouse Forum letter but its funny!

I have always been a fan of your magazine and love to read the letters but never have I had an experience to actually write one.

Now I have…

I am a musician and have been working real hard with the band to
finish the next album. We experienced a setback when our guitar
player Mike got violently ill over a bad Hot Tuna sandwich and Peter
and Davy took him to the hospital. This left me alone in the studio.
It was late in the evening so I decided to pack it up and go home
until I heard a knock outside of the recording booth. I opened the
door and to my surprise was the producer’s daughter Alice. She was
quite the Violent Femme. Wearing a short Belly shirt and tight black
leather pants, she looked hot. Her LA Guns were astounding.

She had asked where the band was and I told her they left and we were
all alone. I could feel my Cranberries tighten and my Tool rise. I
asked her if she needed a slow ride home and she said sure but not
until I show her how to do a drum roll.

We headed over to the kit and she sat down on the stool while
grabbing a couple of drum sticks from the bag. I got behind her and
showed her the move by guiding her arms and hands on the snare. Her
hair smelled like Guns and Roses. It was beautiful. After she was
through, she turned around and saw something resembling a microphone
stand in my pants. Rouge lips became wet with Saliva as she rose and
gave me a Kiss. She took off her shirt and exposed the most Smashing
Pumpkins I had ever seen. A Quiet Riot began in my pants and my mind
filled with Social Distortion.

I held her Queens of the Stoneage in my hands and I felt Nirvana. I
had to get her pants off and put my SlipKnot into her Hole before I
was going to explode. Her pants eventually came off and revealed A
Perfect Circle. We got down on the carpet and quickly I entered her
Foo Fighter.

Her Iron Maiden was wet with STP and my Korn on the cob felt like an
Iggy Pop. I was moving a little slow for her taste so she
yelled, “Faster Pussycat”. It didn’t take long before my Slayer
erupted but not before I pulled out. My Twisted Sister exploded Pearl
Jam all over her Candlebox. I was spent from the excitement and
quickly my Black Sabbath became a Led Zeppelin with my Rolling Stones
aching. She rolled over and I gave her a little Godsmack on the
behind. We both got up and put our clothes on.

Before we left the studio, she smiled and gave me a kiss “You should
come over to my place sometime. I have a dungeon we can play in.” She
said with a wink.

I said, “Definitely! There would be nothing better than to see my
Alice in Chains….It’s a date…!”

Lockeland Springsteen

musings on music from east nashville, tn

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