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*Disclaimer: Stories based on the exact set of words, names and attached graphics are already  in the works.

Pepe jumped down from the fence. His body shook. His right front leg twitched. His left front leg jiggled. He began to dance. The little black and white cat’s feet sashshayed to the right, tapped twice and sashshayed back.

            “Did you see that cool cat?” asked Solo.

            “What cat?” asked his brother, Zeke. “Are you calling that thing a cool cat? Looks like a regular old cat to me.”

Morgan poked his head up out of cornfield. He peered to the right. He glanced to the left.  No Snaggle-Tooth or Evil to be seen. Those two crows were as mean as mean could be.

 No one to tease me about my missing teeth, he thought.  I wish I had all my teeth. I’d look scarier. Then, they’d be scared of me instead of tormenting me.

“Hey Toothless,” snarled Snaggle-Tooth, as he and  Evil searched for Morgan. “Scared anybody today?”

Alice Smith Graphics @clipart4resale.com

 MONSTERS! ORGES! PARTY! is what Cassidy read on the poster her mom had just stapled to the telephone post. She shook her bow and moaned.

“All the things that I dislike the most,” whimpered Cassidy. “What am I going to do now?”

“Do what any good ghost would do! Join the party,” replied Izzy, her older sister.

Billibop McDaniels stomped his feet. He never got what he wanted. Little sister Sara got the blueberries she wanted for breakfast. Brother Brian got his favorite root for lunch and Nana Jo was picking what she wanted to eat for supper.

It wasn’t fair. Why didn’t he get to pick what he wanted?

 Oliver muttered and moaned. He grumbled and groaned. No matter what he was not going back to that place. It was not safe for a little turkey like him. Not with Thanksgiving in a few days.

“This place. It has everything I need,” he said.

Alice Smith Graphic @clipart4resale.com

*Disclaimer: Stories based on the exact set of words, names and attached graphics are already  in the works.

 Whimsy’s ears perked. His tail twitched. He poked his striped head out of the crack in the side of the old dog’s house.  Cat’s rule, he thought. The old dog didn’t  bother to check his own doghouse. Now, he had to get out of there and fast.

ZuZu dunked her head down under the water with only her eyes showing. All the noise in the grasslands had scared her.

Alice Smith [email protected]

 *Disclaimer: Stories based on the exact set of words, names and attached graphics are already  in the works.

“Stand still,” ordered Isabella, raising her net above her shoulder.  “Don’t move a muscle. There’s a snake loose in here. ”   

Gasps filled the room. All at once everyone jumped up and ran from the room. All except one little child.

“Aren’t you scared?” asked Isabella.

“Nope,” replied the girl. “I like snakes.

Daylo shook her striped head and snorted, calling for her family.  Wher was Mama, her baby sister Deliah and all the other zebras?

Where was Johnny, her keeper? He’d know what was happening.

Graphics by Alice Smith @clipart4resale.com

“You’re a snowman,” began Dallas. “Snowman don’t want to fly.”

“I do,”  Elliot said, smiling. “I’ve always wanted to fly. I want to feel the wind rushing through my head. I want to feel feel a breeze brush my cheeks.”

“Rickshaw Jones!” bellowed the Boston Terrier’s owner, Maisie. ” Where are you?”

She could call for Rickshaw Jones all night long and Rickshaw Jones wouldn’t come running back.  He was gone . . . long gone.

Cheetah Graphic by Alice Smith @ clipart4resale.com

“Mama, can’t sleep,”  jabbered Jolie Sue.

“Mama, I can’t sleep,” whimpered Wendi Lou.

“Mama, I can’t sleep,” complained Caroline.

“Arrg,” whined Artie the Parrott.

“Mama, we can’t sleep,” yelled the girls.

Mama didn’t answer.  She was fast sleep on her big queen-size tree bed.

Many of  the MG and YA authors I know are talking about partipating in  NaNoWrMo and how they are getting their word counts accomplished. I kind of felt a little left-out.

As a picture book writer, I don’t have that many words to work with, so like Tara Lazar and others, this is my way of joining in on the fun. One starter a day until the end of November is what I will attempt to do.

*Disc laimer: Stories based on the exact set of words, names and attached graphics are already  in the work.

The three words that I selected to base my story on are Curly, Bike and Pathway. My contribution is:

Lady flicked her curly ears as she galloped down the pathway after CC’s bike.  There was no way she was staying home. Not if CC was going fishing.  Fishing was way too much fun. . . splashing around in all that water.  Watching the fish scurry out of the way of her hooves. Listening to CC’s excited screams.

Maybe that was why CC took her bike.

This is the start to this week’s critique group submission as well as an example how three simple words can become a story. I started with the words, bus, tailpipe and smoke.

Graphics purchased from:  clipart4resale.com

Putt! Putt! The bus’ tailpipe spat out a dark blackish grey smoke. 

“I’ll never get home for Thanksgiving,” Cameron complained, “not in this old bucket of rust school.”

“Who you calling a bucket of rust?” said a voice that Cameron didn’t know. “Show some respect.”

“What?” began Cameron, looking all around to se if Nick was acting funny. Where did that come from? It sounded like it was coming from the bus.

Creating a memorable pb:  The author needs a hook at the beginning, lots of action in the middle and a conflict solved and wrapped up at the end.