*NEW* SAMPLER SUNDAY!

First off, as you can see on your left-hand side I have a list of the weekdays and there is a label next to each. The majority of them say N/A (not available)...I want to fix this. I have 3 topics to post about so far. I NEED MORE! Since you are my readers I want to hear what you WANT to read about. If I am posting CrAp-oLa (Crayola anyone? haha corny. okay.) than it is pointless for me to be wasting my time and your valuable give-T.J.-input time. That said... PLEASE LEAVE ME COMMENTING IDEAS ツ

Now lets get to the point of my *NEW* SAMPLER SUNDAY!

Pretty much I will give you literate people something to read... that I have wrote (grammar?) written??...I'll go with PRODUCED. This makes me nervous but what kind of writer would I be if I did not put myself up to the public's judgement? (the answer is: crazy loon who scribbles in a private princess diary that is hidden under the bed mattress) And since I loathe diaries...

Without further ado? (don't fully understand "ado" but like the ring)

An excerpt from my literary/mainstream short story
"Stall Patterns",
an original work by T.J. Carson:

The glider became rigid as the air forced it into a stall. Blaine was jerking the control frame, brutally trying to correct her ill-attempted maneuver. The hang glider continued to fall from the sky. Her altimeter plummeted as the left wing tipped, there was little she could do now. The ground was closing in. One-hundred feet and ultimately her legs would take the blow. They dangled helplessly. It was too late to unstrap the harness that bound her to the airborne structure. Blaine pulled her legs in toward her chest, clenching her abdomen in sheer panic. She held fast to the control bar but kept the rest of her extensions balled close to her body, hoping to let the glider take the majority of the damage. The wind gushed through the auburn curly locks as they wafted down from the bun that was on top of Blaine’s head. Her hair came loose. The wind blinded her with her own bountiful foliage. Blaine snapped at the air with her mouth, trying to call out. Her hair gagged her from any attempt at making herself known in the empty valleys of the Arizona desert.
While unable to see, Blaine could hear the wind whipping the prairie grasses directly below her adducted feet. She would hit the hard dry ground in moments. She moved her palms up to the right and left downtubes of the control frame, hoping to avoid skinning her fingers on the rough terrain. The left wing collided with a solid surface and Blaine could feel the remaining wing whip her around before dropping her forcibly against the floor of the desert. Her feet became lodged under her body as the glider lunged forward. The nose finally skidded, blowing dust onto its passenger. But Blaine had felt her ankle turn in an unfitting direction as the glider dragged her. The bones cracked and splintered as the winged frame lulled against a large bolder. A scream rolled up her throat but was choked into submission by welling tears of exhaustion and trauma. Although her ankle was surely broken, Blaine could not budge from the protective barrier she had created by packaging herself tightly together. She sat for an hour in her cocoon, trying to slow her thundering heart and nerves. Dusk was beginning to brew on the horizon.

That was the first 2 paragraphs of "Stall Patterns". "Stall Patterns" is a 3,984 word short story. If you are interested in Blaine's fate please let me know and perhaps I will reciprocate the generous feedback with another portion of the story. ;)

Question:
What topics should I post about on a weekly schedule?
How did you like my excerpt?
How are you? :)