I run a photo prompt blog and we are in need of writers!
Please check out the blog if you are interested for details:
http://picprompt.blogspot.com/2012/03/wanted-writers-for-ppwc-blog.html
Friday, March 23, 2012
Sunday, March 4, 2012
March 1st (sort of) and I've Stalled ...
If anyone looked at my #WIP500 numbers or my numbers for the Guardians on February 1st to March 1st, not much has changed.
This month has proven to be quite difficult, not all of which weren't my fault. I've found myself reading quite a bit. While reading is important for a writer, I also need to write once in awhile. I got busy with work then I lost some of my mojo and I allowed that to derail my progress.
March isn't going to be like that. While we are only a few days in thus far and I haven't really accomplished much, I am hoping to change that starting tomorrow.
Hopefully this time next month I will have better news. For those of you who are also participating in the #WIP500, good luck to you! I hope you are doing better than me. LOL
Toodles!
This month has proven to be quite difficult, not all of which weren't my fault. I've found myself reading quite a bit. While reading is important for a writer, I also need to write once in awhile. I got busy with work then I lost some of my mojo and I allowed that to derail my progress.
March isn't going to be like that. While we are only a few days in thus far and I haven't really accomplished much, I am hoping to change that starting tomorrow.
Hopefully this time next month I will have better news. For those of you who are also participating in the #WIP500, good luck to you! I hope you are doing better than me. LOL
Toodles!
Flash Fiction Weeks of February 20th to March 2nd
The last several weeks were crazy week of work for me. The owner of my company was on vacation so I was in charge (scary thought) and was on-call the entire week in February. Being on-call really eats into my writing time when it gets busy. Ah well, every week isn't like that.
What sucks is when you go a few days without writing, you tend to lose your 'mojo' and lose your thoughts. When I pulled my manuscript up yesterday, I had to re-read several pages of what I had already written just to get back into the scene. It worked, and I think the mojo has returned, however sporadically.
I've tried to get back in with the flash fiction but my participation has been spotty. Some of the prompts just didn't speak to me. As before, I try to keep them in the spirit of my WIP if possible.
-------------------------------------------
#MenageMonday (made Honorable Mention! Woo!)
Title: One Life to Give
The Old Mother stands proudly, naked and still in the crisp spring air. Her coverings have long been removed, allowing her flesh to dry and chap through the harsh winter. Breathing is difficult for her this Spring, but she tries all the same to last as long as she can.
Regardless of the pain she is in, she relishes the feeling of growth along her skin. Gentle caresses of new life slowly worked their way up her ancient body, curling and exploring with delicate shoots.
“It’s almost time,” she thinks to herself, knowing that this will be the last season for her.
She sighs as small insect life crawls up the tender shoots, investigating the cracks and crevasses of her time ravaged frame. Slowly they work their way inside, taking from the Old Mother the only nourishment she has to give.
With her last, gasping breath, the Old Mother offers herself to the young ones all around her, knowing that they will live on because of her, with her, from her.
------------------------------------------------
#5MinuteFiction
--I was a little disappointed by this, I got interrupted while I was writing so I wasn't able to complete the thought I was going with for this. Ah well, another day.
Alana followed the clues she found in the archives which led her to her Grandmother’s garden behind the house. However, it didn’t end there. The clues told her to seek out the water of the Creator. The only water Alana knew of was a small pond that was beyond the edge of what she thought was the property line.
Carefully, she stepped through the overgrown brush and brambles until she heard the quiet lapping of the small pond she only just recently became aware of being there. Her memories of being here as a small child were faint, but none contained anything about a pond, just the garden with her Grandmother.
----------------------------------------------------------
#5MinuteFiction
Title: Breath of Strength
As Alana ran towards the town hall, the wind ripped around her. Leaves and various small bits of trash blew about, caught up in the storm. It was so strange. The weather forecast said it was going to be calm with clear skies. This was clearly not that.
However, when she thought about it, it felt like the storm was following her. In glimpses through the debris filled wind, there were trees with limbs unbowed from the gale and flags hanging limply from their poles.
It made sense. The Destroyers were after her any way they could. They could not physically stop her but they could create other things to stop her.
Alana was distracted by a boom off to her right and tripped over a branch that was on the ground. She landed roughly, skinning her hands and knees. Her skin smarted as dirt rubbed into the abrasions. With a grimace, she rolled over on her back and tried to get up.
Suddenly, the wind became oppressive. It tightened and tangled, like a vise, holding her down. Breathing became difficult and she saw stars in front of her eyes. She closed her eyes, took as deep of a breath as she could, and grasped her pendant, hoping the power inside of it would give her the strength to continue.
-----------------------------------
#FridayPictureShow
“Give me the pendant,” Alana demanded. The man behind her tightened his grip on her arms.
The leader of the Destroys laughed, cold and merciless, as he dangled it in front of her face. “No.”
Alana snarled and struggled to free herself from the man restraining her.
The leader laughed again and started to turn away when David took advantage of the distraction and lunged forward to try to grab the pendant.
Before Alana could blink, a shot rang out and David hit the floor. Smoke curled from the barrel of a gun held by one of the other henchmen.
---------------------------------------------------
That's all folks. Hopefully this week will be better!
What sucks is when you go a few days without writing, you tend to lose your 'mojo' and lose your thoughts. When I pulled my manuscript up yesterday, I had to re-read several pages of what I had already written just to get back into the scene. It worked, and I think the mojo has returned, however sporadically.
I've tried to get back in with the flash fiction but my participation has been spotty. Some of the prompts just didn't speak to me. As before, I try to keep them in the spirit of my WIP if possible.
-------------------------------------------
#MenageMonday (made Honorable Mention! Woo!)
Title: One Life to Give
The Old Mother stands proudly, naked and still in the crisp spring air. Her coverings have long been removed, allowing her flesh to dry and chap through the harsh winter. Breathing is difficult for her this Spring, but she tries all the same to last as long as she can.
Regardless of the pain she is in, she relishes the feeling of growth along her skin. Gentle caresses of new life slowly worked their way up her ancient body, curling and exploring with delicate shoots.
“It’s almost time,” she thinks to herself, knowing that this will be the last season for her.
She sighs as small insect life crawls up the tender shoots, investigating the cracks and crevasses of her time ravaged frame. Slowly they work their way inside, taking from the Old Mother the only nourishment she has to give.
With her last, gasping breath, the Old Mother offers herself to the young ones all around her, knowing that they will live on because of her, with her, from her.
------------------------------------------------
#5MinuteFiction
--I was a little disappointed by this, I got interrupted while I was writing so I wasn't able to complete the thought I was going with for this. Ah well, another day.
Alana followed the clues she found in the archives which led her to her Grandmother’s garden behind the house. However, it didn’t end there. The clues told her to seek out the water of the Creator. The only water Alana knew of was a small pond that was beyond the edge of what she thought was the property line.
Carefully, she stepped through the overgrown brush and brambles until she heard the quiet lapping of the small pond she only just recently became aware of being there. Her memories of being here as a small child were faint, but none contained anything about a pond, just the garden with her Grandmother.
----------------------------------------------------------
#5MinuteFiction
Title: Breath of Strength
As Alana ran towards the town hall, the wind ripped around her. Leaves and various small bits of trash blew about, caught up in the storm. It was so strange. The weather forecast said it was going to be calm with clear skies. This was clearly not that.
However, when she thought about it, it felt like the storm was following her. In glimpses through the debris filled wind, there were trees with limbs unbowed from the gale and flags hanging limply from their poles.
It made sense. The Destroyers were after her any way they could. They could not physically stop her but they could create other things to stop her.
Alana was distracted by a boom off to her right and tripped over a branch that was on the ground. She landed roughly, skinning her hands and knees. Her skin smarted as dirt rubbed into the abrasions. With a grimace, she rolled over on her back and tried to get up.
Suddenly, the wind became oppressive. It tightened and tangled, like a vise, holding her down. Breathing became difficult and she saw stars in front of her eyes. She closed her eyes, took as deep of a breath as she could, and grasped her pendant, hoping the power inside of it would give her the strength to continue.
-----------------------------------
#FridayPictureShow
“Give me the pendant,” Alana demanded. The man behind her tightened his grip on her arms.
The leader of the Destroys laughed, cold and merciless, as he dangled it in front of her face. “No.”
Alana snarled and struggled to free herself from the man restraining her.
The leader laughed again and started to turn away when David took advantage of the distraction and lunged forward to try to grab the pendant.
Before Alana could blink, a shot rang out and David hit the floor. Smoke curled from the barrel of a gun held by one of the other henchmen.
---------------------------------------------------
That's all folks. Hopefully this week will be better!
Monday, February 6, 2012
Flash Fiction Week of January 30th
Ah, month end craziness is over so I did pretty good on doing all of the contests this week.
-------------------------------------------------
#MenageMonday - I was the judge this week so I was not eligible for the contest
(#WIP500)
Title: The Ways of the World
The wind was cold as it came across the harbor. Alana pulled her jacket tighter around her body as she walked. After she found the letters from her grandmother, she needed to get out of Wardville to get some clarity. The world as she knew it had just turned on its axis and nothing would ever be the same. David tried to talk to her, but she wasn’t ready. Knowing that he had a part in this too was even the more mind-boggling.
Alana was a Creator, from a family of Creators. She was the last of a long and ancient line of women who had the power to create. Sure other women could have babies, but Alana’s family was the first. It was their existence that allowed others to have progeny.
As she walked, she looked up at a sculpture of a family, with the father looking up to the heavens with his hand raised. The pose struck her and she approached the large installation to get a better look. When she got close enough, she was able to read the inscription at the bottom: The Protector Begs the Heavens.
Startled, she looked closer at the figures and saw a spiral necklace hanging from the woman’s neck.
“Oh my God,” she whispered, her knees weakening as her hand reached up to touch her own spiral pendant. Alana dropped to her knees in front of the statue in shock, not noticing the cold cement.
David was her Protector. Did this mean that he was also supposed to be the father of her children? Sure, he and his father before him and his father before him were entrusted with protecting the Creators, but Alana had no idea it meant this too. She cared about David, but did she care about him that much?
Was this statue a symbol of the way it was supposed to be? If this was the case, why wasn’t her father a Protector as well?
Alana finally rose to her feet a bit unsteadily. Her grandmother’s letters answered many questions, but brought many more new questions to light. The mysterious ways of the world were even more occluded than before.
-----------------------------------------------------
#MotivationalMonday
(#WIP500)
Title: Letters of Love
I’ll never forget that smile, or the way you laugh, Alana’s grandmother, Evelyn, said in one of the many letters she had written to Alana before she died. Alana continued to read as her eyes began to water. With a shaking hand, she wiped away the tears before they fell, and read on.
Alana discovered the letters in a box one day when she was going through her grandmother’s things in Evelyn’s old roll-top desk. It was just a seemingly ordinary cardboard box except it had Alana’s name written on it in her grandmother’s familiar looping script. Curious, she opened the box and was overwhelmed with what she found.
There were so many letters, spanning nearly twenty-five years. It looked like Evelyn wrote several a year, sometimes more depending on what happened. It looked like she started writing them the year Alana’s parents died and Evelyn began raising her, ending just days before Evelyn passed away.
A good portion of the letters were stories about Alana’s childhood, anecdotes that Evelyn wanted to remember and preserve. Alana found herself laughing then crying as she read. Her grandmother had a keen sense of humor that came out very clearly in her written thoughts.
Some of the letters were about Alana’s mother and father, two people that Alana knew very little about. When she realized the letter was about them, she dropped everything else and poured through her grandmother’s words.
Evelyn told her about Cecilia growing up, sometimes pausing in her story to make a commentary on how alike Alana and Cecilia were at that age. Alana smiled, thinking on how precocious her mother must’ve been.
She read on, going through several years’ worth of letters before she realized how late it had gotten. Alana would have continued reading, except a familiar voice called from the first floor.
“I’m up here, David,” she called out, her voice catching at the end before she could stop it.
His heavy footsteps made quick work of the stairs and he was in her bedroom before she had gotten much farther down the page she was reading. He burst in and rushed over to her side.
“Alana, are you okay? It sounded like you were upset.” He gently touched the side of her face, his expression wavering from concern to confusion.
She smiled as fresh tears pricked the corners of her eyes. “I’m fine. I found some letters from my grandmother, telling me about me and my parents.”
David smiled and used the pads of his thumbs to wipe away the last bits of her tears.
“They must be very special letters.”
“They are,” she agreed.
“Are you still up for dinner?”
Her smile brightened as she carefully packed the letters back up. “Yes, please.” The not-so-quiet growl of her stomach agreed, making them both laugh.
-------------------------------------------
#5MinuteFiction I WON! Wooooooooooooo!
Title: Freedom Isn’t Free
A missile has no conscience, no concept of right or wrong. It merely exists in its singular purpose. Once the purpose is fulfilled, it has no further use or added benefit.
Reece sat quietly as he waited, knowing his mission was that of the missile. There was no further action required of him after his task was done. If he survived, there wouldn’t be anything he would want or able to do.
The life of a suicide bomber was short, but had such purpose. Reece believed strongly in his cause, the freedom of his people from the Aanti overlords who had imprisoned them so many years ago. Sure, his people lived in relative peace, but they were not free. They couldn’t do anything without Aanti approval, and if they did something without, were heavily punished.
Reece carefully crawled into position in the subterranean tunnels beneath the Aanti’s command center, being as quietly as he could so he wouldn’t trip the motion sensors.
With a final breath and a prayer, he pressed the trigger.
------------------------------------------------------
#TuesdayTales
Title: Let’s Give ‘Em Something to Talk About
The red light illuminated the couple as they danced. The audience watched breathlessly as the man and woman moved seamlessly within their tango. While they both enjoyed the spotlight, this performance was more than just a showcase of their abilities.
They weren’t just dance partners but a couple, and after this performance, they were going to announce their relationship to the world. Every searing glance, every sultry step, and every sexy sway would analyzed in detail, revealing what had been hidden. They were prepared for the brouhaha that would come, as long as they were together, and dancing.
------------------------------------------------------
#HumpDayChallenge I was an Honorable Mention! :)
Title: Pass the Salt
In an unprecedented decision, the city administration of Cape Coral decided to gift the town with copious amounts of road salt, something entirely unnecessary for the Florida town and detrimental to the pavement.
The populace crowed over the blunder, demanding that the mayor be entombed in the salt for the duration of his term. He protested, of course, saying that all the salt would dry out his delicate complexion and would ruin his chances of winning the next Cape Coral Queen Pageant.
The riot that followed would go down in the record books as the saltiest food fight ever.
---------------------------------------------------
#ThursdayThreads - I also got an honorable mention here! WOo!
(#WIP500)
Title: The Truth of the Matter
Alana sat back in the chair, stunned over the information she had unearthed. David was still pouring over his stack of letters and documents and hadn’t noticed she had stopped.
The initial stack of letters she found from her grandmother were relatively harmless. They were just innocent stories about Alana’s and Cecilia’s childhoods, things that were the same about mother and daughter, and just things that Evelyn thought were memorable.
These stack of letters she had in her hand were of a much different variety. They also disclosed history about Alana’s family, but a darker more mysterious history. It also revealed that her parents death was not a mere accident.
“David, take a look at this,” Alana whispered, her hands shaking as she handed the page she was reading to him.
He took the offered papers but looked at her intently “Jeez, Ali, are you okay? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”
Alana chuckled with a humorless laugh. “Perhaps not a ghost, but you’ll understand once you read it.”
As David read, his jaw fell open in shock. He looked at her incredulously. “Alana, do you know what this means?”
She nodded. “Yep. And those same people are after me.”
David frowned, his face becoming fierce. “No doubt it’s a murder in the case of your parents, but I’ll be damned if I let them do the same to you.”
-----------------------------------------------------
#FridayPictureShow
Title: Passionate Storm
Solitude was his preferred companion, but Collin enjoyed the additional presence of the storm all around him. The waves crashed against the old lighthouse walls like a scorned woman raging, a furious tempest of wind and rain.
He stepped outside of the main door to embrace the gale, the water lapping around his arms and legs, sucking at his limbs in an attempt to join him into the brink.
Collin pulled away before he was entranced completely, and slipped inside his welcoming column. The storm shrieked in anger at his disappearance, pounding against the old lighthouse with vigor and ire.
-------------------------------------------------------
Onward.....
-------------------------------------------------
#MenageMonday - I was the judge this week so I was not eligible for the contest
(#WIP500)
Title: The Ways of the World
The wind was cold as it came across the harbor. Alana pulled her jacket tighter around her body as she walked. After she found the letters from her grandmother, she needed to get out of Wardville to get some clarity. The world as she knew it had just turned on its axis and nothing would ever be the same. David tried to talk to her, but she wasn’t ready. Knowing that he had a part in this too was even the more mind-boggling.
Alana was a Creator, from a family of Creators. She was the last of a long and ancient line of women who had the power to create. Sure other women could have babies, but Alana’s family was the first. It was their existence that allowed others to have progeny.
As she walked, she looked up at a sculpture of a family, with the father looking up to the heavens with his hand raised. The pose struck her and she approached the large installation to get a better look. When she got close enough, she was able to read the inscription at the bottom: The Protector Begs the Heavens.
Startled, she looked closer at the figures and saw a spiral necklace hanging from the woman’s neck.
“Oh my God,” she whispered, her knees weakening as her hand reached up to touch her own spiral pendant. Alana dropped to her knees in front of the statue in shock, not noticing the cold cement.
David was her Protector. Did this mean that he was also supposed to be the father of her children? Sure, he and his father before him and his father before him were entrusted with protecting the Creators, but Alana had no idea it meant this too. She cared about David, but did she care about him that much?
Was this statue a symbol of the way it was supposed to be? If this was the case, why wasn’t her father a Protector as well?
Alana finally rose to her feet a bit unsteadily. Her grandmother’s letters answered many questions, but brought many more new questions to light. The mysterious ways of the world were even more occluded than before.
-----------------------------------------------------
#MotivationalMonday
(#WIP500)
Title: Letters of Love
I’ll never forget that smile, or the way you laugh, Alana’s grandmother, Evelyn, said in one of the many letters she had written to Alana before she died. Alana continued to read as her eyes began to water. With a shaking hand, she wiped away the tears before they fell, and read on.
Alana discovered the letters in a box one day when she was going through her grandmother’s things in Evelyn’s old roll-top desk. It was just a seemingly ordinary cardboard box except it had Alana’s name written on it in her grandmother’s familiar looping script. Curious, she opened the box and was overwhelmed with what she found.
There were so many letters, spanning nearly twenty-five years. It looked like Evelyn wrote several a year, sometimes more depending on what happened. It looked like she started writing them the year Alana’s parents died and Evelyn began raising her, ending just days before Evelyn passed away.
A good portion of the letters were stories about Alana’s childhood, anecdotes that Evelyn wanted to remember and preserve. Alana found herself laughing then crying as she read. Her grandmother had a keen sense of humor that came out very clearly in her written thoughts.
Some of the letters were about Alana’s mother and father, two people that Alana knew very little about. When she realized the letter was about them, she dropped everything else and poured through her grandmother’s words.
Evelyn told her about Cecilia growing up, sometimes pausing in her story to make a commentary on how alike Alana and Cecilia were at that age. Alana smiled, thinking on how precocious her mother must’ve been.
She read on, going through several years’ worth of letters before she realized how late it had gotten. Alana would have continued reading, except a familiar voice called from the first floor.
“I’m up here, David,” she called out, her voice catching at the end before she could stop it.
His heavy footsteps made quick work of the stairs and he was in her bedroom before she had gotten much farther down the page she was reading. He burst in and rushed over to her side.
“Alana, are you okay? It sounded like you were upset.” He gently touched the side of her face, his expression wavering from concern to confusion.
She smiled as fresh tears pricked the corners of her eyes. “I’m fine. I found some letters from my grandmother, telling me about me and my parents.”
David smiled and used the pads of his thumbs to wipe away the last bits of her tears.
“They must be very special letters.”
“They are,” she agreed.
“Are you still up for dinner?”
Her smile brightened as she carefully packed the letters back up. “Yes, please.” The not-so-quiet growl of her stomach agreed, making them both laugh.
-------------------------------------------
#5MinuteFiction I WON! Wooooooooooooo!
Title: Freedom Isn’t Free
A missile has no conscience, no concept of right or wrong. It merely exists in its singular purpose. Once the purpose is fulfilled, it has no further use or added benefit.
Reece sat quietly as he waited, knowing his mission was that of the missile. There was no further action required of him after his task was done. If he survived, there wouldn’t be anything he would want or able to do.
The life of a suicide bomber was short, but had such purpose. Reece believed strongly in his cause, the freedom of his people from the Aanti overlords who had imprisoned them so many years ago. Sure, his people lived in relative peace, but they were not free. They couldn’t do anything without Aanti approval, and if they did something without, were heavily punished.
Reece carefully crawled into position in the subterranean tunnels beneath the Aanti’s command center, being as quietly as he could so he wouldn’t trip the motion sensors.
With a final breath and a prayer, he pressed the trigger.
------------------------------------------------------
#TuesdayTales
Title: Let’s Give ‘Em Something to Talk About
The red light illuminated the couple as they danced. The audience watched breathlessly as the man and woman moved seamlessly within their tango. While they both enjoyed the spotlight, this performance was more than just a showcase of their abilities.
They weren’t just dance partners but a couple, and after this performance, they were going to announce their relationship to the world. Every searing glance, every sultry step, and every sexy sway would analyzed in detail, revealing what had been hidden. They were prepared for the brouhaha that would come, as long as they were together, and dancing.
------------------------------------------------------
#HumpDayChallenge I was an Honorable Mention! :)
Title: Pass the Salt
In an unprecedented decision, the city administration of Cape Coral decided to gift the town with copious amounts of road salt, something entirely unnecessary for the Florida town and detrimental to the pavement.
The populace crowed over the blunder, demanding that the mayor be entombed in the salt for the duration of his term. He protested, of course, saying that all the salt would dry out his delicate complexion and would ruin his chances of winning the next Cape Coral Queen Pageant.
The riot that followed would go down in the record books as the saltiest food fight ever.
---------------------------------------------------
#ThursdayThreads - I also got an honorable mention here! WOo!
(#WIP500)
Title: The Truth of the Matter
Alana sat back in the chair, stunned over the information she had unearthed. David was still pouring over his stack of letters and documents and hadn’t noticed she had stopped.
The initial stack of letters she found from her grandmother were relatively harmless. They were just innocent stories about Alana’s and Cecilia’s childhoods, things that were the same about mother and daughter, and just things that Evelyn thought were memorable.
These stack of letters she had in her hand were of a much different variety. They also disclosed history about Alana’s family, but a darker more mysterious history. It also revealed that her parents death was not a mere accident.
“David, take a look at this,” Alana whispered, her hands shaking as she handed the page she was reading to him.
He took the offered papers but looked at her intently “Jeez, Ali, are you okay? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”
Alana chuckled with a humorless laugh. “Perhaps not a ghost, but you’ll understand once you read it.”
As David read, his jaw fell open in shock. He looked at her incredulously. “Alana, do you know what this means?”
She nodded. “Yep. And those same people are after me.”
David frowned, his face becoming fierce. “No doubt it’s a murder in the case of your parents, but I’ll be damned if I let them do the same to you.”
-----------------------------------------------------
#FridayPictureShow
Title: Passionate Storm
Solitude was his preferred companion, but Collin enjoyed the additional presence of the storm all around him. The waves crashed against the old lighthouse walls like a scorned woman raging, a furious tempest of wind and rain.
He stepped outside of the main door to embrace the gale, the water lapping around his arms and legs, sucking at his limbs in an attempt to join him into the brink.
Collin pulled away before he was entranced completely, and slipped inside his welcoming column. The storm shrieked in anger at his disappearance, pounding against the old lighthouse with vigor and ire.
-------------------------------------------------------
Onward.....
Wednesday, February 1, 2012
February 1st And All Is Well
Thirty-one days into #WIP500, and I have been coasting around 55% of the quota. What does that mean? That I've managed to write 500 words a day only about 55% of the time. Some recent changes with work will hopefully make it easier to get more words in, but nevertheless, I will continue to try.
The various flash fiction contests I participate in each week have helped. It has allowed me to get into and stay in the universe of my story, which helps the creative spirit. It also has allowed me to delve into aspects of my WIP that I haven't gotten to yet (I'm the type that has to write in sequence: chapter 1 then chapter 2 then chapter 3 and so on). It helps visualize more of the story as I write.
My goal this month is to get farther, and move up my percentage up to 75% of the goal. To make that goal, I need to write more on the days I do write. If I want to get to 100%, I will need to write about 1000 words, Monday through Friday. Since I don't write much on the weekends, this will be my new goal.
Hope that any of you that are working on current projects or are also participating in #WIP500 are also having success with your writing.
Onward ...
The various flash fiction contests I participate in each week have helped. It has allowed me to get into and stay in the universe of my story, which helps the creative spirit. It also has allowed me to delve into aspects of my WIP that I haven't gotten to yet (I'm the type that has to write in sequence: chapter 1 then chapter 2 then chapter 3 and so on). It helps visualize more of the story as I write.
My goal this month is to get farther, and move up my percentage up to 75% of the goal. To make that goal, I need to write more on the days I do write. If I want to get to 100%, I will need to write about 1000 words, Monday through Friday. Since I don't write much on the weekends, this will be my new goal.
Hope that any of you that are working on current projects or are also participating in #WIP500 are also having success with your writing.
Onward ...
Saturday, January 28, 2012
Flash Fiction Week of January 23rd
Finding time to do the flashes this week was a bit difficult with how busy I was with work but here they are! Again, trying to keep as many of the drabbles in the spirit of my #WIP500.
-------------------------------------------
#MenageMonday
Title: Nowhere Safe
(#WIP500)
“Ugh, going through the archives was such a pain in the ass,” Alana muttered.
“It was, but we found out quite a bit,” David said as he sat down with a couple of drafts in his hand.
Alana gratefully took hers and enjoyed a long pull from the crisp Irish beer. “We did, that’s for sure.”
She looked around at the window and door frames nervously. “I don’t see the shepherd’s crooks anywhere.”
“This place wasn’t built by my family so it doesn’t have the mark.”
Her face drained of color. She only felt safe in places with the Ward family mark, and felt incredibly exposed without it.
“It’ll be okay, Al,” he reassured.
She knew better.
It wasn’t until after the waitress brought their food that things started happening. The whispers were back and they were angry. Black shrouds seem to ooze from the corners of the room. She shrank back in fear while the rest of the patrons appeared to be unaffected.
“Alana?” David asked. “Are you okay?”
One whispered voice cut through them all. It was laced with evil and coldness. “Your mother was just like you. We will destroy you and everything you represent.”
----------------------------------------------------
#MotivationalMonday
Title: Deadliest Dreams
(#WIP500)
People call them dragons. Alana called them harbingers of death. Anytime there was something bad happening in her life, she saw a dragon. Sometimes it was just a picture, a caricature, or cartoon of one, or one of those gecko-like ones that some people kept as pets, but it was always something.
Growing up, her friends didn’t understand why the cartoon “Puff the Magic Dragon” made her cry or why she’d never watch Shrek. They saw innocent, cartoonish dragons. Alana saw death and destruction and evil.
Dragons never hurt Alana per se, they just seemed to always be around when something bad would happen. When she broke her leg in elementary school after falling from the monkey bars, she had dragons on her cast –at least until she took a Sharpie to them. When her dog died when she was in junior high school, Barney was on the television. When her first boyfriend broke up with her in high school at a football game, the other team’s mascot was a dragon.
Those things were relatively innocent but nevertheless made an impression on her young mind.
It continued much the same as she grew into adulthood. When her grandfather, Robert, died while she was in college, she had a horrible nightmare. Her grandfather was fighting a huge fire-breathing dragon. For a time, it looked like he was going to win, but at the end of the dream, the dragon defeated Robert, tearing him to shreds. Alana woke immediately afterwards, chilled the bone and somehow knowing that her dream wasn’t just a dream, that her grandfather really had died.
The tear-filled call by her grandmother later that morning confirmed that.
It wasn’t for several years before Alana saw another dragon. She thought she was finally growing out of it. One spring night, she was dreaming about her grandmother. They were in Evelyn’s garden, tending her flowers and ivy, when the house behind them was incinerated by a huge fireball. When the smoke cleared, a fierce dragon stood, trails of fire dripping from its nostrils. Shrouds of darkness swirled around the dragon like an evil halo.
Evelyn cried out and shoved Alana aside as the dragon let out a gust of fire at them. The older woman was immediately engulfed in the deadly flames.
Alana woke, screaming with tears running down her face. Her boyfriend tried his best to calm her down but she was inconsolable. It had happened again. Alana wasn’t sure if she’d ever be the same again.
-------------------------------------------------
#5MinuteFiction
Title: Bloody Fields
(#WIP500)
Alana was puzzled. The last thing she remembered was laying down to sleep but now she found herself walking through Wardville. She was by herself, which was strange. Usually David was with her when she was in town.
The sky was an odd opal hue, almost like there were Northern Lights but during the day. Everything was completely silent. Trees didn’t rustle, although she saw leaves wave through the wind. Birds didn’t chirp, although she saw their beaks open. There also weren’t any cars on the street, or any other people for that matter.
She was completely alone.
Alana turned the corner towards the Town Hall and was immediately surrounded by a field of lilies. Normally such a pleasant flower, Alana was struck with how sinister they looked. The petals were blood red and looked wet to the touch. As she approached one, she gingerly reached a finger out.
The petal of the lily felt vevelty soft, as was normal. As she pulled her finger away, she noticed the tip was bloody. Quickly, she wiped off on her pants. There wasn’t a cut on her finger or anything. Nervously, she looked back at the lily. It remained as it did before.
She touched it a second time, leaving her finger there for a moment. Fluid collected on the tip of the petal until it finally dropped to the ground. It was blood. The lilies were bleeding.
Alana woke with a start in her bed. She sat up and looked around and everything appeared to be normal. With a sigh, she reached up to brush her hair out of her eyes. She screamed when she saw her hand covered with blood.
--------------------------------------------------
#FridayPictureShow
Title: The Path of Enlightenment
(Won an honorable mention)
“Which journey do you want to take?” the kindly old man asked.
Paulette stood in front of the bookshelf, tilting her neck from side to side as she thought. These were all her best loved books.
“You need to choose,” he prompted.
“I can’t decide. They’re all wonderful.”
“You have to pick the best option for you.”
“But why? Why can’t I have all of them?”
“It’s not possible.”
Paulette woke up with a start from where she had fallen asleep at her desk. It was covered with college applications from schools all across the country.
“I just can’t decide.”
-----------------------------------------
Till next week!
-------------------------------------------
#MenageMonday
Title: Nowhere Safe
(#WIP500)
“Ugh, going through the archives was such a pain in the ass,” Alana muttered.
“It was, but we found out quite a bit,” David said as he sat down with a couple of drafts in his hand.
Alana gratefully took hers and enjoyed a long pull from the crisp Irish beer. “We did, that’s for sure.”
She looked around at the window and door frames nervously. “I don’t see the shepherd’s crooks anywhere.”
“This place wasn’t built by my family so it doesn’t have the mark.”
Her face drained of color. She only felt safe in places with the Ward family mark, and felt incredibly exposed without it.
“It’ll be okay, Al,” he reassured.
She knew better.
It wasn’t until after the waitress brought their food that things started happening. The whispers were back and they were angry. Black shrouds seem to ooze from the corners of the room. She shrank back in fear while the rest of the patrons appeared to be unaffected.
“Alana?” David asked. “Are you okay?”
One whispered voice cut through them all. It was laced with evil and coldness. “Your mother was just like you. We will destroy you and everything you represent.”
----------------------------------------------------
#MotivationalMonday
Title: Deadliest Dreams
(#WIP500)
People call them dragons. Alana called them harbingers of death. Anytime there was something bad happening in her life, she saw a dragon. Sometimes it was just a picture, a caricature, or cartoon of one, or one of those gecko-like ones that some people kept as pets, but it was always something.
Growing up, her friends didn’t understand why the cartoon “Puff the Magic Dragon” made her cry or why she’d never watch Shrek. They saw innocent, cartoonish dragons. Alana saw death and destruction and evil.
Dragons never hurt Alana per se, they just seemed to always be around when something bad would happen. When she broke her leg in elementary school after falling from the monkey bars, she had dragons on her cast –at least until she took a Sharpie to them. When her dog died when she was in junior high school, Barney was on the television. When her first boyfriend broke up with her in high school at a football game, the other team’s mascot was a dragon.
Those things were relatively innocent but nevertheless made an impression on her young mind.
It continued much the same as she grew into adulthood. When her grandfather, Robert, died while she was in college, she had a horrible nightmare. Her grandfather was fighting a huge fire-breathing dragon. For a time, it looked like he was going to win, but at the end of the dream, the dragon defeated Robert, tearing him to shreds. Alana woke immediately afterwards, chilled the bone and somehow knowing that her dream wasn’t just a dream, that her grandfather really had died.
The tear-filled call by her grandmother later that morning confirmed that.
It wasn’t for several years before Alana saw another dragon. She thought she was finally growing out of it. One spring night, she was dreaming about her grandmother. They were in Evelyn’s garden, tending her flowers and ivy, when the house behind them was incinerated by a huge fireball. When the smoke cleared, a fierce dragon stood, trails of fire dripping from its nostrils. Shrouds of darkness swirled around the dragon like an evil halo.
Evelyn cried out and shoved Alana aside as the dragon let out a gust of fire at them. The older woman was immediately engulfed in the deadly flames.
Alana woke, screaming with tears running down her face. Her boyfriend tried his best to calm her down but she was inconsolable. It had happened again. Alana wasn’t sure if she’d ever be the same again.
-------------------------------------------------
#5MinuteFiction
Title: Bloody Fields
(#WIP500)
Alana was puzzled. The last thing she remembered was laying down to sleep but now she found herself walking through Wardville. She was by herself, which was strange. Usually David was with her when she was in town.
The sky was an odd opal hue, almost like there were Northern Lights but during the day. Everything was completely silent. Trees didn’t rustle, although she saw leaves wave through the wind. Birds didn’t chirp, although she saw their beaks open. There also weren’t any cars on the street, or any other people for that matter.
She was completely alone.
Alana turned the corner towards the Town Hall and was immediately surrounded by a field of lilies. Normally such a pleasant flower, Alana was struck with how sinister they looked. The petals were blood red and looked wet to the touch. As she approached one, she gingerly reached a finger out.
The petal of the lily felt vevelty soft, as was normal. As she pulled her finger away, she noticed the tip was bloody. Quickly, she wiped off on her pants. There wasn’t a cut on her finger or anything. Nervously, she looked back at the lily. It remained as it did before.
She touched it a second time, leaving her finger there for a moment. Fluid collected on the tip of the petal until it finally dropped to the ground. It was blood. The lilies were bleeding.
Alana woke with a start in her bed. She sat up and looked around and everything appeared to be normal. With a sigh, she reached up to brush her hair out of her eyes. She screamed when she saw her hand covered with blood.
--------------------------------------------------
#FridayPictureShow
Title: The Path of Enlightenment
(Won an honorable mention)
“Which journey do you want to take?” the kindly old man asked.
Paulette stood in front of the bookshelf, tilting her neck from side to side as she thought. These were all her best loved books.
“You need to choose,” he prompted.
“I can’t decide. They’re all wonderful.”
“You have to pick the best option for you.”
“But why? Why can’t I have all of them?”
“It’s not possible.”
Paulette woke up with a start from where she had fallen asleep at her desk. It was covered with college applications from schools all across the country.
“I just can’t decide.”
-----------------------------------------
Till next week!
Saturday, January 21, 2012
Flash Fiction Week of January 16th
As I continue with #WIP500 hosted by the delightful Cara Michaels, I try to keep my flash fiction drabbles within my story. Sometimes it works, sometimes not. Either way, I'm still writing. :)
#MotivationMonday
Title: Finality
(WIP#500)
We just wanted to be free, Alana thought as she and David stepped carefully through the wreckage of the town hall. There were burned bricks and broken bits of drywall all over the place. Shards of glass littered the floor from windows that had blown out. It looked like a bomb had gone off.
In some ways, it probably had.
Her life had been so simple before she moved back to Maine, and she couldn’t wait until it could be again. All they had to do was free themselves and free the world from the threat brought on by the Destroyers.. Now, everything was different. She was different.
She sighed as she walked gingerly through the somewhat clear path to the basement. There was no other place the Destroyers would have gone. The bell tower was in shambles and that was the only room left that her and David hadn’t investigated.
Clutching the spiral pendants at her neck, she hoped for strength from her grandmother and all the women before her, and opened the steel door that led to the beginning of the end.
----------------------------------------------------
#MenageMonday
(no title)
“Blessed are the meek,” the angel said.
“Really? Cause being meek got me into this position in the first place. If I had spoken up for myself, maybe I’d still be alive,” the ghost argued.
“But you will inherit the earth.”
“Ha, didn’t I already? I’m IN the earth! I definitely think I’ve already inherited it.”
The angel showed no sign of annoyance, merely looked on with that same peaceful gaze. “Blessed are those who hunger and thirst for righteousness, for they will be filled.”
“Hello! I’m dead! What could I possibly be hungry for now?” The ghost swirled around the angel in agitation.
“Blessed are the merciful, for they will be shown mercy,” the angel continued reciting Matthew.
“What mercy was I shown? I was murdered!”
“Blessed are the pure in heart, for they will see God.”
The ghost scoffed. “The only time I saw God was when I had an orgasm. Tell me, O Holy Angel, have you ever had an orgasm? I doubt it.”
The angel blushed.
"Blessed are those who are persecuted because of righteousness, for theirs is the kingdom of heaven.”
“If this is heaven, I want a redo.”
The angel sighed.
-------------------------------------------------
#5MinuteFiction
Title: Revelations
(#WIP500)
“Grab me a beer, will you?” David asked as he and Alana poured over the paperwork they copied from the town archives.
As Alana sat down next to him, she twisted the cap off of his beer and one she got for herself. They had been sitting at the table going over stacks of papers for several hours and Alana’s eyes were beginning to cross.
There was so much history in the town, which was remarkable for how small it was. David’s family was involved in just about every aspect of the town’s growth from a simple farm to what it was now. It wouldn’t be classified as a city but they had more than one stoplight.
“Find anything yet?” she asked, as she rubbed her forehead.
The difficult thing was they weren’t sure exactly what they were looking for, but hoped they would recognize it when they saw it, something that dealt with a battle between one of David’s ancestors and some of the same evil forces that were after Alana now.
Their beers were nearly empty when David jumped out of his chair. “Alana, I think I found it! Look!”
“What is it?” she asked, quickly leaning over what he had been reading.
“Here, look at this section here.” He pointed to an obscure paragraph that was nearly illegible due to fading and water-damage.
------------------------------------------
#TuesdayTales
Title: Game Show
“Pat, I’d like to buy a vowel. The letter ‘u,’ please.”
“All right, let’s see what you got!” The overly enthusiastic announcer turned toward the game board, his papery skin nearly transparent from one too many face-lifts.
Three letter boxes lit up and rotated forward.
“Pat, I’d like to solve the puzzle. The word is ‘Pulchritudinous.'"
An applause track burst harshly from the speakers overhead as the announcer began clapping, his thin arms flapping like bare tree branches. “You are correct! For the bonus, use the word in a sentence!”
“Botox can make someone pulchritudinous but not attractive.”
---------------------------------------------------
#ThursdayThreads
Title: Nerves
(#WIP500)
“Alana, what you possibly worried about? They will love you,” David said as he stood behind her, rubbing his hands up and down her arms. She fidgeted in front of the mirror, adjusting the same strands of hair over and over again.
“They knew my parents and my grandparents. What if I don’t live up to what they expect?”
“Alana, I know my parents. I’m telling you, you have nothing to worry about.”
She sighed, straightened her shirt, and turned to face David. “I hope you’re right.”
He pulled her face towards him and kissed her forehead. “I am. You look great, and yeah, you’re worth a million bucks, and you don’t give yourself enough credit.”
She blushed and looked away briefly. “How do you know just what to say?”
“It’s a gift,” he replied with a smirk. “My father taught me everything I know.”
-----------------------------------------------
#FridayPictureShow
Title: Hidden Clues
He laid the keys out, one by one, in specific order, in precise placement. He disregarded the chaos around him as he worked. He did not see the shambles of the room, or the destruction brought on by his many rages.
Each key stood for something. They were clues, clues that only he knew the answers to. He supposed that someone smart enough could figure it out, if they really tried.
With a pair of tweezers that he had bathed in bleach earlier, he carefully placed the final two keys and a slim, black button on the plate and waited.
-------------------------------------------------
Till next week ...
#MotivationMonday
Title: Finality
(WIP#500)
We just wanted to be free, Alana thought as she and David stepped carefully through the wreckage of the town hall. There were burned bricks and broken bits of drywall all over the place. Shards of glass littered the floor from windows that had blown out. It looked like a bomb had gone off.
In some ways, it probably had.
Her life had been so simple before she moved back to Maine, and she couldn’t wait until it could be again. All they had to do was free themselves and free the world from the threat brought on by the Destroyers.. Now, everything was different. She was different.
She sighed as she walked gingerly through the somewhat clear path to the basement. There was no other place the Destroyers would have gone. The bell tower was in shambles and that was the only room left that her and David hadn’t investigated.
Clutching the spiral pendants at her neck, she hoped for strength from her grandmother and all the women before her, and opened the steel door that led to the beginning of the end.
----------------------------------------------------
#MenageMonday
(no title)
“Blessed are the meek,” the angel said.
“Really? Cause being meek got me into this position in the first place. If I had spoken up for myself, maybe I’d still be alive,” the ghost argued.
“But you will inherit the earth.”
“Ha, didn’t I already? I’m IN the earth! I definitely think I’ve already inherited it.”
The angel showed no sign of annoyance, merely looked on with that same peaceful gaze. “Blessed are those who hunger and thirst for righteousness, for they will be filled.”
“Hello! I’m dead! What could I possibly be hungry for now?” The ghost swirled around the angel in agitation.
“Blessed are the merciful, for they will be shown mercy,” the angel continued reciting Matthew.
“What mercy was I shown? I was murdered!”
“Blessed are the pure in heart, for they will see God.”
The ghost scoffed. “The only time I saw God was when I had an orgasm. Tell me, O Holy Angel, have you ever had an orgasm? I doubt it.”
The angel blushed.
"Blessed are those who are persecuted because of righteousness, for theirs is the kingdom of heaven.”
“If this is heaven, I want a redo.”
The angel sighed.
-------------------------------------------------
#5MinuteFiction
Title: Revelations
(#WIP500)
“Grab me a beer, will you?” David asked as he and Alana poured over the paperwork they copied from the town archives.
As Alana sat down next to him, she twisted the cap off of his beer and one she got for herself. They had been sitting at the table going over stacks of papers for several hours and Alana’s eyes were beginning to cross.
There was so much history in the town, which was remarkable for how small it was. David’s family was involved in just about every aspect of the town’s growth from a simple farm to what it was now. It wouldn’t be classified as a city but they had more than one stoplight.
“Find anything yet?” she asked, as she rubbed her forehead.
The difficult thing was they weren’t sure exactly what they were looking for, but hoped they would recognize it when they saw it, something that dealt with a battle between one of David’s ancestors and some of the same evil forces that were after Alana now.
Their beers were nearly empty when David jumped out of his chair. “Alana, I think I found it! Look!”
“What is it?” she asked, quickly leaning over what he had been reading.
“Here, look at this section here.” He pointed to an obscure paragraph that was nearly illegible due to fading and water-damage.
------------------------------------------
#TuesdayTales
Title: Game Show
“Pat, I’d like to buy a vowel. The letter ‘u,’ please.”
“All right, let’s see what you got!” The overly enthusiastic announcer turned toward the game board, his papery skin nearly transparent from one too many face-lifts.
Three letter boxes lit up and rotated forward.
“Pat, I’d like to solve the puzzle. The word is ‘Pulchritudinous.'"
An applause track burst harshly from the speakers overhead as the announcer began clapping, his thin arms flapping like bare tree branches. “You are correct! For the bonus, use the word in a sentence!”
“Botox can make someone pulchritudinous but not attractive.”
---------------------------------------------------
#ThursdayThreads
Title: Nerves
(#WIP500)
“Alana, what you possibly worried about? They will love you,” David said as he stood behind her, rubbing his hands up and down her arms. She fidgeted in front of the mirror, adjusting the same strands of hair over and over again.
“They knew my parents and my grandparents. What if I don’t live up to what they expect?”
“Alana, I know my parents. I’m telling you, you have nothing to worry about.”
She sighed, straightened her shirt, and turned to face David. “I hope you’re right.”
He pulled her face towards him and kissed her forehead. “I am. You look great, and yeah, you’re worth a million bucks, and you don’t give yourself enough credit.”
She blushed and looked away briefly. “How do you know just what to say?”
“It’s a gift,” he replied with a smirk. “My father taught me everything I know.”
-----------------------------------------------
#FridayPictureShow
Title: Hidden Clues
He laid the keys out, one by one, in specific order, in precise placement. He disregarded the chaos around him as he worked. He did not see the shambles of the room, or the destruction brought on by his many rages.
Each key stood for something. They were clues, clues that only he knew the answers to. He supposed that someone smart enough could figure it out, if they really tried.
With a pair of tweezers that he had bathed in bleach earlier, he carefully placed the final two keys and a slim, black button on the plate and waited.
-------------------------------------------------
Till next week ...
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