Something I like to keep in mind when I am writing is what questions would a reader have and want answers. Some of them are obvious to the plot and some of them might simple little tidbits "Why does he like oatmeal raisin cookies so much?"
Also; have a little contempt for your audience! Tease them. They deserve it and they know it.
Wednesday, July 29, 2009
Tuesday, July 28, 2009
PEGASUS: A note on
PEGASUS (his name is always in CAPS--that's yer one warning) has sworn off the internet for a month. Some say it's to show the voices who's boss, some say he got sucked into one of the darker corners of porn and like, really, really scared himself.
But hey, who hasn't done that once or twice? You'll know when you crossed a line I say. Usually cuz the cops have just shown up...
Anyway, look forward to me pressuring him into posting some of what he's gotten done.
But hey, who hasn't done that once or twice? You'll know when you crossed a line I say. Usually cuz the cops have just shown up...
Anyway, look forward to me pressuring him into posting some of what he's gotten done.
Kicker 2: Sort of...or, Putting the Ass in Assignment!
Picture a scene you've explored before, be it in your mind's eye or in writing, and now write badly. Cliche's are your friend. Butcher the few remaining laws of grammar people still adhere 2. Go crazy.
Writing badly is a good way to shake off that nagging voice that when you're writing something like, you're doing it badly.
For some reason, it's both fun and funny.
Writing badly is a good way to shake off that nagging voice that when you're writing something like, you're doing it badly.
For some reason, it's both fun and funny.
Wednesday, July 22, 2009
Thoughts on image kicker #1, or, doing something to make the Bastard stop whining.
Hi all. This is just a lil something that I got from the picture below. It's really rough and not well thought out and not in the least bit original, but it was a fun exercise. Not that I'm trying to say exercise is fun, mind you. Hope to see some from all of you, and I hope that after you read this entry, you'll realize that you can't possibly do worse than I did and will then become unafraid to post. Cheers!
Transport
Things will get worse before they get better.
Sae'ouri pondered this as she paced languidly back and forth awaiting the arrival of her transport. The ship was visible on the horizon now and growing larger, occasionally back lit by lightning so that she could see it's bulk floating above the sea. The main sails had been furled and replaced by the float, allowing for safe travel through the air above acid waters that would eat boat and sailer alike. She knew that the ship could sail safely in the deeper waters beyond the bay, and it would do so after it collected her and began it's return voyage to Prine.
She kept her stately movements in check, by all appearances a serene, educated young lady patiently awaiting her transport. Inside, however, anticipation had her all aflutter. She had waited long for this day. Had been schooled and trained for the slight possibility that this day would come, when The Exalted would choose a new bride. To her family, her village, the whole island, it was an honor unheard of that she'd been chosen from the thousands of eligible girls across the realm. To Sae'ouri, it was the chance to change things.
Lar'gaeno had trained her well, imparting all the learning and sophistication she would need as a Bride of The Exalted. She spoke all the languages of the realm; knew the various cultures of the Four States and their provinces. But, most importantly, she knew history. The history of the realm, the glorious history of The Exalted. Everyone knew the general history that was taught, but she knew the finer points and details; could, in fact, orate on them at length. This was good, her old master had always said. The Exalted always liked to be reminded of his wondrous deeds.
But Lar'gaeno had also taught her other history, outside the given doctrine. History that contradicted, even indicted The Exalted as a sham. This was the history that she believed in, that she would work to expose. Sae'ouri's personal task, the one she had accepted from Lar'gaeno and the other members of the Hidden Council, was to bring about the ultimate ruination of The Exalted and free the world he had enslaved. The world that didn't know it was enslaved.
Sae'ouri was scared. Terrified when she was honest with herself, as she strove always to be. But she was excited too. Excited for her younger siblings. For the souls of her parents. For the soul of the realm. The time had come.
She stopped her pacing and adopted a stance of dignified patience as the transport drew to a stop dropping anchor. A rope ladder was unfurled over the side and figures scrambled down and began making their way up the beach toward her.
Soon now, she thought. Things will get worse before they get better.
She smiled.
Tuesday, July 21, 2009
Image Kicker #1
OK, you people! I thought I might start off with an image prompt in a vain hope that it will spur you and myself into writing something to this har blog of ours.
Freshly produced yesterday this photo manipulation I'm letting you guys run rampant too. Its called "Distant Shores" - BUT! Call it what you will, just write a little something and post it or link it. THANK YOU!
Freshly produced yesterday this photo manipulation I'm letting you guys run rampant too. Its called "Distant Shores" - BUT! Call it what you will, just write a little something and post it or link it. THANK YOU!
Saturday, July 18, 2009
Thursday, July 16, 2009
Introduce Yourselves
I've accepted the fact I'm carrying this project--at gunpoint. You didn't have to say yes. You joined the club--stop pouting. I'm not angry. I'm just drunk, armed, naked and drunk.
I took the same approach with all of you--I tried to suggest what seemed like a fun idea to base a serial around and let you run with the idea under an assumed name while I took care of an online venue to publish/promote the stories--stories that will be fun to read because they were fun to write.
The reason I want 6 stories from each of you is because in the publishing world they have pretty much 6 complete issues waiting for publishing with another 6 just needing the final touches waiting in the wings. So; six stories and we go live with the confidence the other six can and will be written.
The site will have a spattering of the genres though with what I'm seeing produced so far I'm sensing it will be hard to fight a sci/fi fantasy tag. That said it'd be cool if everyone said a little bit about what they are working on. New post or comment to this--whatevz.
I took the same approach with all of you--I tried to suggest what seemed like a fun idea to base a serial around and let you run with the idea under an assumed name while I took care of an online venue to publish/promote the stories--stories that will be fun to read because they were fun to write.
The reason I want 6 stories from each of you is because in the publishing world they have pretty much 6 complete issues waiting for publishing with another 6 just needing the final touches waiting in the wings. So; six stories and we go live with the confidence the other six can and will be written.
The site will have a spattering of the genres though with what I'm seeing produced so far I'm sensing it will be hard to fight a sci/fi fantasy tag. That said it'd be cool if everyone said a little bit about what they are working on. New post or comment to this--whatevz.
Wednesday, July 8, 2009
Monday, July 6, 2009
Within These Walls
This is a total oldie I wrote many many moons ago lol..And it was from an Image Kicker too. Now you can't say I haven't written something!
Never forget the day she arrived. She was a sight to behold. Yes sir indeed, she was a sight. Long flowing black hair the colour of Raven feathers, caramel coloured skin, and those eyes. Those eyes of rain. Bring a man to their knee's they could.
Yes sir, one of Gods gifts that was for sure. How that gift ended up here though, now that's a damn shame.
I see a lot of things here. Hear a lot of things too, but I guess it comes with the territory. You find some good ones, they come in all shapes and sizes, different shades of colour, man, woman, hell even a child. But they all come. Some go, but mostly they stay.
World out there don't want em. 'Thrown them off' I heard one of them say, like they a pair of dirty jeans that ain't worth wearing anymore. This is what our world has come to now. 'Hmph'. This is who we are.
Discarding our fellow man like foul rubbish from our trash cans. Sending them to places like this. Places that create their own kind of hell.
She never did say much, but then I guess she couldnt really. In the clouds she was, sitting high in the clouds like she was a kite. Such a crying shame, something so beautiful ending up here. You have to pity the poor creature for the hand fate has dealt her. But then again karma has it's own way of dishing out retribution for the wrongs a person commits.
My mammy always said to me when I was growing up, she would say 'Boy! Beauty is not all its cracked up to be. You could be the Venus De Milo for all the good it would do you. Beauty is a curse for those who have been hand-picked to wear it. Be thankful my boy you look the way you do. God has blessed you'.
And my mammy was right. One of the hand-picked is here, and it looks like God has forsaken her.
'Yeeep'. Ive seen em come but mostly stay. I keep my head down and do my job. Clean up the stink they leave behind, clean up other stuff too. I just do my job, I dont get paid to say nothing to no one, or question anything I see either. Head down cleaning the filth, thats what I do. Oh but I see things, yes lord I see things. Cant escape hearing them either, not here.
But here she is, another pair of dirty jeans to add to the collection.
'Let. Me. Go.'
'Let me go. Let me go!'
'No. No, please. Please, please dont'
'Please! Nooooo!'
I heard the stories when she arrived. They were talking about it. So I listened, yes sir I listened. Quite a tale behind this here picture of perfection. You wouldn't think so, but after you hear it, if it wasnt true, then she wouldnt be here. Nope. She would be off in some fancy restaurant with some handsome fella. Shopping, travelling. Doing all those things someone like her would be doing.
Except thats not whats happening now is it. Nah-uh. There's none of that to be had where she is. There was talk of a child, jealousy, arguing, the childs daddy and blind rage.
'Yeeep'. Ive seen em come, the odd ones go, but this one. This one will never leave. To far gone I heard them say, to far gone. Such a shame those eyes of rain, still a mans heart they could.
But the mind. Now the mind is a different story when its pushed over the edge, gets you to do funny things. When the mind goes you may as well paint the face of a dead carcass for all its worth. No good to man or beast you are, if your mind is lost. Beauty counts for nothing when a person is like that.
There was talk of a child and her daddy. An innocent child who's beauty rivalled her own. Now can't have that can we. The child, a cherub of the Lord's taken by one of Lucifer's fallen. The light of eight years taken from her eyes plunged into darkness before her time. So this is what we've become, monsters who steal the breath from the lips of the innocent.
Oh yes sir I've heard the screams, I've seen the lights flickering, the shadows moving in her room, the grunts and the moans. I see it all. I just do my job, don't question those above me, don't question those below. I clean up the stink, wash the walls, clean away the smell of death.
Within these walls you can be the Queen of England, Marilyn Munroe, hell you can even be Elvis if the shoe fits, but it dont mean squat at the end of the day. Your here because society dont want you no more. They got no room for the likes of you. They have discarded you to your own personal hell.
You no longer fit to be among the living, among the so-called righteous. You here because you have fallen from the eyes of humanity and they have washed their hands of you. Their ain't nobody left out there to take care of you, but in here, you among your own, you among those whose hearts are as black as obsidian, and who blood runs cold with ice.
'Yeeep'. This ones a keeper.
Yes sir, one of Gods gifts that was for sure. How that gift ended up here though, now that's a damn shame.
I see a lot of things here. Hear a lot of things too, but I guess it comes with the territory. You find some good ones, they come in all shapes and sizes, different shades of colour, man, woman, hell even a child. But they all come. Some go, but mostly they stay.
World out there don't want em. 'Thrown them off' I heard one of them say, like they a pair of dirty jeans that ain't worth wearing anymore. This is what our world has come to now. 'Hmph'. This is who we are.
Discarding our fellow man like foul rubbish from our trash cans. Sending them to places like this. Places that create their own kind of hell.
She never did say much, but then I guess she couldnt really. In the clouds she was, sitting high in the clouds like she was a kite. Such a crying shame, something so beautiful ending up here. You have to pity the poor creature for the hand fate has dealt her. But then again karma has it's own way of dishing out retribution for the wrongs a person commits.
My mammy always said to me when I was growing up, she would say 'Boy! Beauty is not all its cracked up to be. You could be the Venus De Milo for all the good it would do you. Beauty is a curse for those who have been hand-picked to wear it. Be thankful my boy you look the way you do. God has blessed you'.
And my mammy was right. One of the hand-picked is here, and it looks like God has forsaken her.
'Yeeep'. Ive seen em come but mostly stay. I keep my head down and do my job. Clean up the stink they leave behind, clean up other stuff too. I just do my job, I dont get paid to say nothing to no one, or question anything I see either. Head down cleaning the filth, thats what I do. Oh but I see things, yes lord I see things. Cant escape hearing them either, not here.
But here she is, another pair of dirty jeans to add to the collection.
'Let. Me. Go.'
'Let me go. Let me go!'
'No. No, please. Please, please dont'
'Please! Nooooo!'
I heard the stories when she arrived. They were talking about it. So I listened, yes sir I listened. Quite a tale behind this here picture of perfection. You wouldn't think so, but after you hear it, if it wasnt true, then she wouldnt be here. Nope. She would be off in some fancy restaurant with some handsome fella. Shopping, travelling. Doing all those things someone like her would be doing.
Except thats not whats happening now is it. Nah-uh. There's none of that to be had where she is. There was talk of a child, jealousy, arguing, the childs daddy and blind rage.
'Yeeep'. Ive seen em come, the odd ones go, but this one. This one will never leave. To far gone I heard them say, to far gone. Such a shame those eyes of rain, still a mans heart they could.
But the mind. Now the mind is a different story when its pushed over the edge, gets you to do funny things. When the mind goes you may as well paint the face of a dead carcass for all its worth. No good to man or beast you are, if your mind is lost. Beauty counts for nothing when a person is like that.
There was talk of a child and her daddy. An innocent child who's beauty rivalled her own. Now can't have that can we. The child, a cherub of the Lord's taken by one of Lucifer's fallen. The light of eight years taken from her eyes plunged into darkness before her time. So this is what we've become, monsters who steal the breath from the lips of the innocent.
Oh yes sir I've heard the screams, I've seen the lights flickering, the shadows moving in her room, the grunts and the moans. I see it all. I just do my job, don't question those above me, don't question those below. I clean up the stink, wash the walls, clean away the smell of death.
Within these walls you can be the Queen of England, Marilyn Munroe, hell you can even be Elvis if the shoe fits, but it dont mean squat at the end of the day. Your here because society dont want you no more. They got no room for the likes of you. They have discarded you to your own personal hell.
You no longer fit to be among the living, among the so-called righteous. You here because you have fallen from the eyes of humanity and they have washed their hands of you. Their ain't nobody left out there to take care of you, but in here, you among your own, you among those whose hearts are as black as obsidian, and who blood runs cold with ice.
'Yeeep'. This ones a keeper.
Saturday, July 4, 2009
Feel Free to Post Guys!
Yes, this is for all of us! If you have a question or a comment or an idea for some kickers of your own--by all means, speak up!
Friday, July 3, 2009
Thursday, July 2, 2009
Halp! Iz don't noz wut 2 write! P1
None of this will ever be mandatory. I won't kick you out of my awesome little club here (which I consider to be more "ours" than "mine") for not doing this.
But, since I want you to be writing everyday and I also know that can be hard when the blank page is over powering you, I am going to periodically provide what I call Kickers: which are interesting first lines to get the wheels turning.
Also, to facilitate getting us all familiar with each other, I'm writing up a little Q&A which I hope you will fill out.
Also, if you haven't chosen a pseudonym for your story, keep part of your creative brain working on that.
Happy writing...you jerks.
But, since I want you to be writing everyday and I also know that can be hard when the blank page is over powering you, I am going to periodically provide what I call Kickers: which are interesting first lines to get the wheels turning.
Also, to facilitate getting us all familiar with each other, I'm writing up a little Q&A which I hope you will fill out.
Also, if you haven't chosen a pseudonym for your story, keep part of your creative brain working on that.
Happy writing...you jerks.
Wednesday, July 1, 2009
Welcome to Hell. You may enjoy it here
My first challenge for you is a write a day challenge. A paragraph, a page, a chapter--some is better than none, and I think the daily routine will do us all good.
The soul of this project is to get you writers I know writing and to create a fun place to see it published. Serials are fun and tend to promote themselves, plus I really think if it's fun to write it will be fun to read.
An no, what you write doesn't have to be about your serial.
The soul of this project is to get you writers I know writing and to create a fun place to see it published. Serials are fun and tend to promote themselves, plus I really think if it's fun to write it will be fun to read.
An no, what you write doesn't have to be about your serial.
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