I just want to express my deepest sympathies to those affected by this terrible incident. To the families and friends of the victims of the Sandy Hook Elementary School shooting, I send my condolences, and I want you to know that I am praying for you all.
Sunday, December 16, 2012
Monday, March 12, 2012
Prompt: Write a Personal Ad
Woman seeking male partner in crime. Must be highly intelligent/hyper-observant. Dark hair and eyes preferred. Must be comfortable with wearing suits. Greedy and unscrupulous is acceptable. Familiarity with pulp fiction and film noir preferred. Will pay all expenses.
Wednesday, March 7, 2012
SF Creative Writing Class Exercise, 3/6/2012
[Write a story where you are about to be operated on. Any kind of operation.]
It's too damn cold in here. I hate to be cold. I hate hospitals. My mother, my father, and my older brother all died in hospitals. Pneumonia, MRSA, and an anesthetic mistake. Will was supposed to be getting a hip replacement. Anesthetic mistake.
I hear my heart rate spike and cringe as Nurse Ratchet II pokes her head around the corner. "We're going to need you to calm down, Miss Jones. This is a fairly simple procedure, nothing to worry about."
"Look, lady, my brother died during a hip replacement because the anesthesiologist fucked up. I'm about to have my SKULL opened up so Dr. Fineman can screw around with a supposedly benign tumor. I'M ALLOWED TO FREAK OUT, HERE!"
Ratchet Jr.'s face pales, but her beady ferret eyes stay cold and hard. "We don't make mistakes here, Miss Jones. I'm going to give you something to calm you down."
"No, I'll be fine, just give me a few minutes." Panic bells are starting to clang and reverberate inside my skull.
The nurse ignores me and loads a syringe with a frightening, childlike smile. She looks like a little girl, pleased at how her dollies are in perfect order. My brain screams at me. I need to get the hell out of here. The only way out is through the nurse.
I lie still and let her inject the sedative into the IV bag, but I rip the needle out of my arm as soon as the frosty sting of the medicine hits my bloodstream. I catapult myself off the gurney and ignore a violent urge to vomit.
I have to get out of here. I can't let them get inside my head.
I feel the nurse's talons clamp down on my arm. "No!" I scream it so loud I feel like my throat has been shredded by a cheese grater. I throw my full body weight against her and we both crash into a glass-fronted steel cabinet. The noise is painfully satisfying, as is her scream of frustration.
"I have to get the hell out of here. I can't let them inside my head."
I hear a piercing alarm and my whole body jerks like I've been struck by lightning. It sounds again and my eyes snap open. My bedroom. I can see glowing confetti in my peripheral vision and sunlight drives burning spikes into my eyes. I squint at my sheets. Bloody again.
It's too damn cold in here. I hate to be cold. I hate hospitals. My mother, my father, and my older brother all died in hospitals. Pneumonia, MRSA, and an anesthetic mistake. Will was supposed to be getting a hip replacement. Anesthetic mistake.
I hear my heart rate spike and cringe as Nurse Ratchet II pokes her head around the corner. "We're going to need you to calm down, Miss Jones. This is a fairly simple procedure, nothing to worry about."
"Look, lady, my brother died during a hip replacement because the anesthesiologist fucked up. I'm about to have my SKULL opened up so Dr. Fineman can screw around with a supposedly benign tumor. I'M ALLOWED TO FREAK OUT, HERE!"
Ratchet Jr.'s face pales, but her beady ferret eyes stay cold and hard. "We don't make mistakes here, Miss Jones. I'm going to give you something to calm you down."
"No, I'll be fine, just give me a few minutes." Panic bells are starting to clang and reverberate inside my skull.
The nurse ignores me and loads a syringe with a frightening, childlike smile. She looks like a little girl, pleased at how her dollies are in perfect order. My brain screams at me. I need to get the hell out of here. The only way out is through the nurse.
I lie still and let her inject the sedative into the IV bag, but I rip the needle out of my arm as soon as the frosty sting of the medicine hits my bloodstream. I catapult myself off the gurney and ignore a violent urge to vomit.
I have to get out of here. I can't let them get inside my head.
I feel the nurse's talons clamp down on my arm. "No!" I scream it so loud I feel like my throat has been shredded by a cheese grater. I throw my full body weight against her and we both crash into a glass-fronted steel cabinet. The noise is painfully satisfying, as is her scream of frustration.
"I have to get the hell out of here. I can't let them inside my head."
I hear a piercing alarm and my whole body jerks like I've been struck by lightning. It sounds again and my eyes snap open. My bedroom. I can see glowing confetti in my peripheral vision and sunlight drives burning spikes into my eyes. I squint at my sheets. Bloody again.
Wednesday, December 28, 2011
Been a while.
Seems like school has had me neglecting everything, especially my writing. [insert an obscene amount of guilt here] I'm hoping to be able to start posting again soon.
Wednesday, August 17, 2011
Results of Day 181 Exercise: Muse-ings
What does your muse walk like? A ballerina.
What does your muse sound like? Gemma Arterton.
What does your muse do for fun? Dance and write.
What does your muse smile like? My maternal grandmother.
Where does your muse live? Camelot.
What does your muse like to eat? Fruit and chocolate.
What does your muse smell like? Fresh peaches.
Sunday, August 14, 2011
Write-Brain Workbook - Initial Results of Day 59 Exercise
Freshman-itis
- Natalie Annabell Kelvin
- Nat
- Brown Eyes
- Brown Hair
Best Friends' Nicknames:
Gabby, Jes, and Todd.
How they treat Nat:
- Gabby- Nat and Gabby are practically attached at the hip. they tell each other everything & are always there for each other. Nat is shy and almost envies Gabby's social ease, but would never let it taint their lifelong friendship. Gabby is talkative, energetic, and confides ONLY in Nat and Jes.
- Jes- Nat and Jes didn't really like each other until sixth grade. They're pretty much opposites. Nat is girly and Jes is sporty, etc. Jes is the listener in the group. Mediator. Gives good advice.
- Todd- Todd and Nat have liked each other for years, but their timing has ALWAYS been off. He's flirty and outgoing, which often gives Nat pangs of jealousy (even though she's too chicken to ask him out). Him going out with other girls makes her very touchy, but in all other ways they're pretty much inseperable. They have similar tastes and he's always ready to hang out or be there for Nat.
How Nat Treats Them:
See above?
Nat's Favorite Food: Mashed Potatoes
Thoughts on Sports: They're for other people to play and her to watch. And she doesn't watch them often, if we're being honest. Mostly the only reason she goes to games is to see/hang with Todd, who happens to be the school mascot.
New Prompt Book!
I recently bought The Write-Brain Workbook, and ADORE it. When I'm inspired to work on one of the prompts, I'll post whatever I get out of it in here. I will not be doing the exercises in any particular kind of order, and most will not be completed at first sitting, but I may come back to them later. I just want to work on whatever I can, whenever I have time to work on it.
Sunday, May 22, 2011
Dream Home: Part I
Well, it’s in the foothills somewhere. Not exactly the mountains, but they’re there. Right where I can see them. It’s a place that doesn’t see snow often because I hate the cold.
The house has a sort of rustic “log cabin” type feel to it, but it’s a multi-storied house. Probably cedar. Stone fireplace/chimney. The hearth is a half-circle, also of stone. The floor in the living area and the kitchen is split-brick. However, there’s a nice, big Turkish rug in the living area to add some warmth to the room.
Leather couch and chairs, probably in a neutral color or a rich brown. Simple but elegant. I want it to feel warm, welcoming, and comfortable.
There will be a library/study. There should definitely be a window in the library. Maybe a bay window, the kind with a seat in it. The walls are lined with shelves to hold an obscene amount of books. Wooden desk. Elegant in a lawyerish sort of way. Big leather desk chair—must have wheels and spin.
There will be a separate, smaller office space somewhere in the house for filing cabinets and the desktop PC(s), probably upstairs.
There will be a game room on the ground floor, directly under the master bedroom. This is because there will be a compartment at the back of the “his” walk-in closet—this must have a door that closes it off—because it contains a fire pole that makes for expeditious access to the game room. However, the pole shaft & landing are concealed behind an unobtrusive panel, which swings outward into the room when pushed. Strong magnetic closure makes it very difficult to open from the outside. (This satisfies my intense desire to have a “secret passage” of some sort in my house.)
The game area will have a pool table. It will also have shelves and a table for board & card games. It will also have a couple of chairs so guests can sit and read if they want.
The game area has a sliding panel that opens to a spiral staircase that leads down into the basement-level entertainment room. There is also regular access to this room via a door that opens to the rest of the basement area.
This basement entertainment area houses a large, flat-screen TV mounted on the wall, surround-sound sound system with various music players—including a turntable for records. Let’s not forget the gaming consoles, either. My PS2 and PS3 will most likely be sitting right next to an XBOX (probably due to some male presence or another).
The living area is going to open to the dining room, for which I haven’t made specific plans yet. I don’t really have any details worked out for my kitchen yet, either. I’m hoping to have input here from a man who likes to cook. Then I can persuade him to come cook for me sometimes. ;)
There will be a small sun room with porch/terrace-ish furniture (probably wicker) and a small fireplace in it (once again stone). The chimney is built into the wall of the regular house so it doesn’t mess with the structure of the sun-room.
Guest rooms will be in the basement.
The master bedroom and bath are upstairs. That’s as far as I’ve gotten with the planning in that direction, but it’s up next, for sure.
The house has a sort of rustic “log cabin” type feel to it, but it’s a multi-storied house. Probably cedar. Stone fireplace/chimney. The hearth is a half-circle, also of stone. The floor in the living area and the kitchen is split-brick. However, there’s a nice, big Turkish rug in the living area to add some warmth to the room.
Leather couch and chairs, probably in a neutral color or a rich brown. Simple but elegant. I want it to feel warm, welcoming, and comfortable.
There will be a library/study. There should definitely be a window in the library. Maybe a bay window, the kind with a seat in it. The walls are lined with shelves to hold an obscene amount of books. Wooden desk. Elegant in a lawyerish sort of way. Big leather desk chair—must have wheels and spin.
There will be a separate, smaller office space somewhere in the house for filing cabinets and the desktop PC(s), probably upstairs.
There will be a game room on the ground floor, directly under the master bedroom. This is because there will be a compartment at the back of the “his” walk-in closet—this must have a door that closes it off—because it contains a fire pole that makes for expeditious access to the game room. However, the pole shaft & landing are concealed behind an unobtrusive panel, which swings outward into the room when pushed. Strong magnetic closure makes it very difficult to open from the outside. (This satisfies my intense desire to have a “secret passage” of some sort in my house.)
The game area will have a pool table. It will also have shelves and a table for board & card games. It will also have a couple of chairs so guests can sit and read if they want.
The game area has a sliding panel that opens to a spiral staircase that leads down into the basement-level entertainment room. There is also regular access to this room via a door that opens to the rest of the basement area.
This basement entertainment area houses a large, flat-screen TV mounted on the wall, surround-sound sound system with various music players—including a turntable for records. Let’s not forget the gaming consoles, either. My PS2 and PS3 will most likely be sitting right next to an XBOX (probably due to some male presence or another).
The living area is going to open to the dining room, for which I haven’t made specific plans yet. I don’t really have any details worked out for my kitchen yet, either. I’m hoping to have input here from a man who likes to cook. Then I can persuade him to come cook for me sometimes. ;)
There will be a small sun room with porch/terrace-ish furniture (probably wicker) and a small fireplace in it (once again stone). The chimney is built into the wall of the regular house so it doesn’t mess with the structure of the sun-room.
Guest rooms will be in the basement.
The master bedroom and bath are upstairs. That’s as far as I’ve gotten with the planning in that direction, but it’s up next, for sure.
Sunday, January 23, 2011
Who Needs Cupid, Anyway?
Jane tapped her pen against the legal pad on her desk, half-listening to the soft rock station that played on a constant basis in the reception area. The quiet secretary batted at a strand of her warm auburn hair that insisted on falling into her face. She'd tried in vain to get it to stay back in the ponytail she wore almost every day, but not even the strongest of hairsprays worked.
Jane had 45 minutes left on her hour lunch break, and nothing to do. No one else was in the office and she was all caught up on work, for the moment. As she shuffled papers around on her desk, the radio host's voice caught her attention.
"Since Valentine's Day is coming up, we're giving away romantic prizes all month long. Since the big day is only a week away, today we're giving away two tickets for an ocean view room on a sevenday cruise to Cancun. The caller who can identify the song that I'm going to play a three second clip of wins, so be ready. We're going to play the clip at 12:30. For now, enjoy the set of ballads coming up."
Jane rolled her eyes and gave a derisive snort. "Ridiculous. Valentine's Day is such crap." Still, she couldn't resist listening for the three second clip at 12:30.
"Okay, folks, here's your chance to win a romantic cruise for two to Cancun. I'm going to play a three second clip of a song, and the person who can identify the song will win our most decadent gift yet. We'll throw in $500 as a bonus if you can also identify the artist. Here it comes."
She knew the song instantly. The drum beat was so unique that she was sure the first caller would get it. After three people called in and guessed wrong, Jane started getting annoyed. How can they not know this? What kind of music do these people listen to, anyway? She snatched up the office phone and dialed the station. Her stomach clenched when she realized she'd actually gotten through.
"Hi, caller! What's your name?"
"Jane." She swallowed, noticing that her mouth felt as dry as sandpaper.
"Welcome to the show, Jane. So, can you tell me what song I just played a clip of?"
Jane smirked. "Yeah. It's 'Tusk' by Fleetwood Mac." She heard a ridiculous trumpet fanfare and arched a brow.
"Congratulations, Jane! You've won two tickets on a deluxecruise to Mexico , and the $500 bonus for identifying the artist, too! Stay on the line so I can get a few details from you, and you can pick up the tickets at the station as soon as this afternoon!"
Jane was sitting ramrod straight in herdesk chair and her brown eyes were wide with shock. She looked like a deer caught in the headlights when her boss Alice walked in. The tall graceful blonde touched her secretary's shoulder and Jane jumped. "What's wrong, Jane?"
She shook her head dumbly, but managed to choke out. "I won two tickets on a deluxe cruise and $500."
"And you're not jumping up and down screaming with joy why?"
"Alice, you know I haven't had a boyfriend in over three years. It's supposed to be a romantic vacation to Mexico for Valentine's Day. Who in the world am I going to get to go with me? I don't think I'm going to go. Probably I'll just give the tickets away."
Alice narrowed her sharp green eyes and planted her hands on her hips. "No, you're not. You're going to take this vacation. You've earned it, and it doesn't really matter who you ask to go with you! Be spontaneous for once! Just grab a guy and offer him the other ticket for the cruise. Any guy would have to be nuts not to accept."
Jane chewed on her bottom lip for a moment before replying. "Well...I could use a vacation. I hate this city in the winter, anyway. It gets cold, but it never snows. What's the point in that?"
"Exactly. Take the rest of the day off, and go pick up your tickets!"
A few hours later Jane was staring down at two cruise tickets in her hand and she had five crisp, new $100 dollar bills in her purse.
Wow...how the heck did this happen to me? I never win anything, and now I'm going on a deluxe cruise with $500 to spend however I want without having to worry about blowing my paycheck.
She started walking back to her car, eyes still on the tickets, when she plowed right into someone. Jane tumbled backward onto the sidewalk, and she dropped the tickets. Her eyes watered, and she knew beyond the shadow of a doubt that her backside was going to bruise. "I'm so sorry! I was so stunned that I won these tickets...I wasn't even watching where I was going."
"It's okay. I wasn't watching where I was going, either." He picked up the tickets with one hand, and extended the other to help Jane up.
Jane had 45 minutes left on her hour lunch break, and nothing to do. No one else was in the office and she was all caught up on work, for the moment. As she shuffled papers around on her desk, the radio host's voice caught her attention.
"Since Valentine's Day is coming up, we're giving away romantic prizes all month long. Since the big day is only a week away, today we're giving away two tickets for an ocean view room on a seven
Jane rolled her eyes and gave a derisive snort. "Ridiculous. Valentine's Day is such crap." Still, she couldn't resist listening for the three second clip at 12:30.
"Okay, folks, here's your chance to win a romantic cruise for two to Cancun. I'm going to play a three second clip of a song, and the person who can identify the song will win our most decadent gift yet. We'll throw in $500 as a bonus if you can also identify the artist. Here it comes."
She knew the song instantly. The drum beat was so unique that she was sure the first caller would get it. After three people called in and guessed wrong, Jane started getting annoyed. How can they not know this? What kind of music do these people listen to, anyway? She snatched up the office phone and dialed the station. Her stomach clenched when she realized she'd actually gotten through.
"Hi, caller! What's your name?"
"Jane." She swallowed, noticing that her mouth felt as dry as sandpaper.
"Welcome to the show, Jane. So, can you tell me what song I just played a clip of?"
Jane smirked. "Yeah. It's 'Tusk' by Fleetwood Mac." She heard a ridiculous trumpet fanfare and arched a brow.
"Congratulations, Jane! You've won two tickets on a deluxe
Jane was sitting ramrod straight in her
She shook her head dumbly, but managed to choke out. "I won two tickets on a deluxe cruise and $500."
"And you're not jumping up and down screaming with joy why?"
"Alice, you know I haven't had a boyfriend in over three years. It's supposed to be a romantic vacation to Mexico for Valentine's Day. Who in the world am I going to get to go with me? I don't think I'm going to go. Probably I'll just give the tickets away."
Alice narrowed her sharp green eyes and planted her hands on her hips. "No, you're not. You're going to take this vacation. You've earned it, and it doesn't really matter who you ask to go with you! Be spontaneous for once! Just grab a guy and offer him the other ticket for the cruise. Any guy would have to be nuts not to accept."
Jane chewed on her bottom lip for a moment before replying. "Well...I could use a vacation. I hate this city in the winter, anyway. It gets cold, but it never snows. What's the point in that?"
"Exactly. Take the rest of the day off, and go pick up your tickets!"
A few hours later Jane was staring down at two cruise tickets in her hand and she had five crisp, new $100 dollar bills in her purse.
Wow...how the heck did this happen to me? I never win anything, and now I'm going on a deluxe cruise with $500 to spend however I want without having to worry about blowing my paycheck.
She started walking back to her car, eyes still on the tickets, when she plowed right into someone. Jane tumbled backward onto the sidewalk, and she dropped the tickets. Her eyes watered, and she knew beyond the shadow of a doubt that her backside was going to bruise. "I'm so sorry! I was so stunned that I won these tickets...I wasn't even watching where I was going."
"It's okay. I wasn't watching where I was going, either." He picked up the tickets with one hand, and extended the other to help Jane up.
The Brave New World Was a Lie - Inspired by "The Sound of Silence" by Simon and Garfunkel
I’ve come to talk with you again
Because a vision softly creeping
Left its seeds while I was sleeping,
And the vision
That was planted in my brain
Still remains
Within the sound of silence.
Mara stared into the darkness of her isolation cell, contemplating how many weeks she’d been trapped in darkness and silence. The former assassin had a first class ticket
Narrow streets of cobblestone.
Beneath the halo of a street lamp,
I turned my collar to the cold and damp
When my eyes were stabbed
By the flash of a neon light
That split the night
And touched the sound of silence.
There was nothing for her to do but lie down. She winced as the needle for the intravenous nutrition system stabbed between her shoulder blades. A dark chuckle escaped her as she closed her eyes, hoping that she would never open them again.
Ten thousand people, maybe more.
People talking without speaking,
People hearing without listening,
People writing songs that voices never share…
And no one dare
Disturb the sound of silence.
Mara’s eyes did open again. It was because the ship was shuddering as if it were being torn apart. She sat up and the intravenous nutrition system disengaged, leaving blood to trickle between her shoulder blades. A startled cry ripped from Mara’s throat as the ship suddenly stopped moving with a sickening crunch. The impact flung her across the cell and her head hit the thick metal wall with a sickening crack. After a moment of searing pain, she succumbed to blissful oblivion.
Silence like a cancer grows.
Hear my words that I might teach you;
Take my arms that I might reach you.”
But my words like silent raindrops fell,
And echoed in the wells of silence.
When Mara came to, she experienced light for the first time in more than a month. She squinted and swore at the pain in her head. She jumped when someone spoke beside her. “We’re two of the very few survivors. I wasn’t sure if you were going to wake up.” Mara turned and let her green-gold eyes focus on the man’s face. He was a scruffy-looking blond with unreadable gray eyes.
“What do you care, anyway?” Her voice was dull and devoid of any emotion.
“I couldn’t risk exploring on my own. We didn’t make it to Gliese. This planet is wild and apparently uninhabited. Some of the other inmates have already threatened cannibalism if they can’t find anything edible in the surrounding area. I don’t know about you, but I’m not too keen on being eaten.”
Mara rolled her eyes and ran a hand through her waist-length brown mane. “Why me?”
The man shrugged his broad shoulders. “Call it a misplaced sense of chivalry.” He stood and extended his hand to her. Without knowing why, Mara took it and followed him into the underbrush, leaving the rubble from the Subiugāre behind.
To the neon god they made,
And the sign flashed out its warning
In the words that it was forming,
And the signs said: “The words of the prophets
Are written on the subway walls
And tenement halls,
And whispered in the sound of silence.”
((The lyrics are from “The Sound of Silence” by Simon and Garfunkel. I have no idea where I want this to go, but this is where the muse took me. Feel free to join.))
"I can't believe you've taken up jogging! What about our pact?"
"I can't believe you've taken up jogging, Lucy! What about our pact?"
Guilt tugged Lucy's cupid bow lips into a momentary frown, and then she bit her lip. Guilty didn't look good on the petite strawberry-blond. I'm searching for a good excuse or explanation to give my best friend, but nothing's coming to mind. I guess I have to resort to the truth. "I had to do something, Vic! I was going stir-crazy in that cabin by myself." Lucy widened her baby-blues, trying her best for the innocent look.
Vic rolled his caramel-colored eyes and scrubbed a hand down his face in frustration. Lucy had seen the gesture a million times before. "Uh-uh. Don't you try to give me those big doe eyes; I'm too angry for it to work right now. Lucy, jogging down the side of the road defeats the purpose of putting you in a safe house. Some nut with a taxidermy fetish is after you. Jeez, woman! Didn't you ever watch Psycho?" Vic's dark brown curls were mussed from where he'd repeatedly shoved his hands through his hair while he was stressing over getting to the safe house and finding Lucy gone.
She cringed and gave an involuntary shudder. "Okay, I see your point, but can't you put someone in the safe house with me? I'm dying of boredom out there."
Vic scowled and it made his face look even more hawkish than usual. "I'll keep you company
Lucy couldn't stop herself from pouting. "That's not fair!"
"Tough shit, cupcake." Vic smirked down at Lucy, and she scrunched her nose.
"I really want to slap you right now."
Prompt from The Writer's Book of Matches.
Guilt tugged Lucy's cupid bow lips into a momentary frown, and then she bit her lip. Guilty didn't look good on the petite strawberry-blond. I'm searching for a good excuse or explanation to give my best friend, but nothing's coming to mind. I guess I have to resort to the truth. "I had to do something, Vic! I was going stir-crazy in that cabin by myself." Lucy widened her baby-blues, trying her best for the innocent look.
Vic rolled his caramel-colored eyes and scrubbed a hand down his face in frustration. Lucy had seen the gesture a million times before. "Uh-uh. Don't you try to give me those big doe eyes; I'm too angry for it to work right now. Lucy, jogging down the side of the road defeats the purpose of putting you in a safe house. Some nut with a taxidermy fetish is after you. Jeez, woman! Didn't you ever watch Psycho?" Vic's dark brown curls were mussed from where he'd repeatedly shoved his hands through his hair while he was stressing over getting to the safe house and finding Lucy gone.
She cringed and gave an involuntary shudder. "Okay, I see your point, but can't you put someone in the safe house with me? I'm dying of boredom out there."
Vic scowled and it made his face look even more hawkish than usual. "I'll keep you company
Lucy couldn't stop herself from pouting. "That's not fair!"
"Tough shit, cupcake." Vic smirked down at Lucy, and she scrunched her nose.
"I really want to slap you right now."
Prompt from The Writer's Book of Matches.
"Are you here alone?" / "Yeah, I'm bad. But in a good way."
"Are you here alone?" The husky, masculine voice almost made me jump out of my skin.
"No. I was supposed to have dinner with my boyfriend tonight, but he isn't answering the intercom." I tried very hard not to let my anxiety seep into my voice.
The raven-haired man gave me a grim smile. "I hate to be the one to tell you, sweetheart, but your boyfriend is dead."
Shit. I hadn't noticed the shoulder holster under his sport coat before. It held a pistol big enough to make King Kong nervous. I swallowed convulsively. "Are you a bad guy?" I can't believe I just said that. What am I, a four-year-old?
He smiled, and I almost had a hot flash. "Yeah, I'm bad. But in a good way."
I choked back a hysterical giggle, suddenly wishing I wasn't quite so fond of Humphrey Bogart movies. "How do you know my boyfriend's dead?"
"I saw you pushing the buzzer for 3C. I've been working a homicide scene in that apartment for the past two and a half hours. I'm just getting back from a coffee run." The man gave me the once-over and sighed. His eyes were a flinty gray, but they softened a little as I returned his look with a blank stare. "You look like you could use a cup." He plucked one from the cardboard carrier and passed it to me. "You can have mine."
The warmth from the cup helped lessen the shaking in my hands. "It's not black, is it?"
He shook his head. "It's got plenty of sugar, but no cream."
"That's fine." I took a sip of the dark, scalding liquid. "Thank you."
((I felt like this story was going to be a mystery, so I put it in the first person so you discover things right along with the heroine. Hope that's not too troublesome.))
Both prompts from The Writer's Book of Matches, but I'm too lazy to look up page numbers right now.
"No. I was supposed to have dinner with my boyfriend tonight, but he isn't answering the intercom." I tried very hard not to let my anxiety seep into my voice.
The raven-haired man gave me a grim smile. "I hate to be the one to tell you, sweetheart, but your boyfriend is dead."
Shit. I hadn't noticed the shoulder holster under his sport coat before. It held a pistol big enough to make King Kong nervous. I swallowed convulsively. "Are you a bad guy?" I can't believe I just said that. What am I, a four-year-old?
He smiled, and I almost had a hot flash. "Yeah, I'm bad. But in a good way."
I choked back a hysterical giggle, suddenly wishing I wasn't quite so fond of Humphrey Bogart movies. "How do you know my boyfriend's dead?"
"I saw you pushing the buzzer for 3C. I've been working a homicide scene in that apartment for the past two and a half hours. I'm just getting back from a coffee run." The man gave me the once-over and sighed. His eyes were a flinty gray, but they softened a little as I returned his look with a blank stare. "You look like you could use a cup." He plucked one from the cardboard carrier and passed it to me. "You can have mine."
The warmth from the cup helped lessen the shaking in my hands. "It's not black, is it?"
He shook his head. "It's got plenty of sugar, but no cream."
"That's fine." I took a sip of the dark, scalding liquid. "Thank you."
((I felt like this story was going to be a mystery, so I put it in the first person so you discover things right along with the heroine. Hope that's not too troublesome.))
Both prompts from The Writer's Book of Matches, but I'm too lazy to look up page numbers right now.
Saturday, January 22, 2011
"Hello? Hello? I think the phone just went dead..."
"Hell no, dude. We need to get out of here. I've seen this movie."
Alice slammed the phone back on the base and grabbed her purse. "I know I don't say this often enough, but you're right. Let's go."
"Way ahead of you," Ginny barreled for the back door with her friend right behind her. They heard the front door get smashed open as they bolted into the wet grass at the back of the house.
Alice slipped and went down in the mud, cursing all the way. Ginny hauled her up by her dress's skirt and they staggered to the back gate as they heard the racket of the house being ransacked.
"What the hell did you do," Ginny panted as they burst through the gate and hauled butt down the street.
"Nothing! At least, nothing I know of!"
"Wait a second, why are we not in a car?"
Alice tugged on her friend's arm. "Because both our cars are out front, and we don't know how many of them came to the house."
Prompt from The Writer's Book of Matches, page 154.
"I'll have an egg-white omelet and a side of sausage. And a beer, if you've got one."
The waitress stared at Jack with her mouth open for two full minutes before she responded. "I'm sorry, sir, but we don't serve beer here."
He muttered something under his breath and sighed. "Fine, I'll just have a water. The beer can wait until I get home."
He glowered at the young blond's back as she scampered off to retrieve his breakfast. "Can't have a single night without something going to hell."
Prompt from The Writer's Book of Matches, page 27.
Spark Word: Bad Hair Day
I glared into the mirror, swearing under my breath. I can NOT afford to have a bad hair day today.
"I have traffic court at 8:30," I muttered as I stared down at the curling iron with disgust, "And a lunch date after that."
I threw down the curling iron. "I don't even know why I bother." I snatched my flat-iron out of the bottom drawer and started a new attack. By the time I finished, not a single hair was out of place, but I slipped a hair tie into my purse just in case.
The Process
So, I've decided that I'm not going to do prewriting for any of these fragments. I'm only going to let myself sit down at the computer and compose whatever comes to me from the prompt (or occasionally an unprompted idea).
I really need to work on my habit of planning something to death.
I also wanted to make the notation that the prompts in The Writer's Block: 186 Ideas to Jump-Start Your Imagination does not give page numbers. So the prompts will have to stand on their own.
The Premise for This Blog
My fiction often comes to me in very random, sporadic ways. So, I'm going to catalogue my ideas and fragments of fiction here. Some pieces may stand alone and some may be continued. The continuance of pieces may well be influenced by the feedback that I get.
Also, many of these may be the results of prompts. When they are, I will cite the book and page number from which the prompt came.
So, here's to the creative person's non-linear way of thinking.
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