J.J. Goodman: Writings, Musings and More

Yesterday I posed a challenge to readers on both my professional and personal Facebook walls to submit ideas for a story. I promised that I would choose one of those ideas and write a story naming the "contestant" as the protagonist. That task turned out to be much more difficult than I imagined. Therefore, instead of choosing one story idea, I have mashed several of them together and have incorporated as many of those that submitted ideas into the story. What you are about to read below is the fruit of that endeavour. Please note, however, that for those of you from whom I have (with your permission) taken characters' names, I will, as always, take great liberties in the writing. While your characters will bear your names, and likely many of your personal traits, there will also be many deviations, characteristics and situations which may not be reflective of who you are in real life. If at any time, as I weave this tale, you become uncomfortable with how the story

Just going to jump right in this time. Facebook friends of the author's alter-ego will understand... _________________ “Son of a bitch,” he exclaimed. He had been enjoying a lazy summer afternoon, floating in the pool, drinking a beer and listening to the combined hum of the pool filter and the countdown of the great hits of the 80’s that poured from the outdoor speakers mounted on the house. The sun, light breeze, and gentle waves in the pool had nearly lulled him to sleep when the music cut out in the middle of Toto’s Africa . The iPad, connected to the stereo inside, had timed out and lost the satellite radio signal. Within seconds thereafter, the pool filter, which had switched itself on and off a half a dozen times already, died again as well. Reluctantly, he paddled over to the pool stairs and lifted himself out of his float and dried himself off. No one else would be home for hours and he’d be damned if he was going to waste one of the rare opportunities he had to f

I drive. I drive a lot. Not as much as some of you, but more than most. I usually log one hundred and fifty miles a day, five days a week, and then some. I have been doing this for a couple of years now and, over that time, I have devised the following Rules of the Road. They are simple and easy to follow. Print them and tape them to your dashboard. But don't read them while driving. Lawyers put up billboards telling you that they sue distracted drivers. And they will. Their number is on the billboard, if you want to call them. That big billboard. That you're reading. While driving. Yeah. _____________________ 1.          If you tailgate me while I am in the left lane and passing other cars, I will engage my windshield washers and disengage my cruise control. Aw, did your shiny black Mercedes get water spots? Too bad, so sad. 2.          Simply turning on your directional signal does not automatically entitle you to pull into my lane. A Mini Cooper won’t even fit in

Several people have mentioned to me that, although my stories usually include strong female characters, I have yet to write something featuring a woman as the main character of the tale. Thus, I had an idea... ____________________             “What are you doing?”             “Meditating.”             “Why?”             “To prevent myself from wanting to strangle all the stupid people.”             Jayden shrugged her shoulders. “Like that’s gonna help,” Jayden said to her sister as she walked back into the kitchen.             Maura Grady sat cross-legged in the middle of the living room, resting her hands on her knees. She breathed deeply, trying to relax herself before her daily run. Adroitly, she lifted herself up without uncrossing her legs and bent over to stretch. Jayden watched Maura from the kitchen with jealousy of her sister’s figure, ignoring her ironic hypocrisy as she spooned Ben & Jerry’s right from the container to her lips. At 7:30 in the m