The last of the Drakeathon prompts is another take on Jilliko's "Dreams of Winter." It is between a cut of descriptions and depictions of death
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Mar. 7th, 2011
Drakeathon Writing Done!
Mar. 7th, 2011 12:08 pmAnd that is the last of the prompts given from the Drakeathon, written!
(My parents donated and have not prompted, but everything I've actually gotten a prompt for has been written).
All together in a document, it's just under 14,000 words, 27 pages of 8.5x11 with no intros and little formatting. I plan to add to this a couple already-written things, where the prompt was "please continue this story."
Next step(s): editing and formatting for the e-book. I know at least one story needs polishing - Lost Princess of Paradisia. I'll have to read through again to see about the rest of them.
(My parents donated and have not prompted, but everything I've actually gotten a prompt for has been written).
All together in a document, it's just under 14,000 words, 27 pages of 8.5x11 with no intros and little formatting. I plan to add to this a couple already-written things, where the prompt was "please continue this story."
Next step(s): editing and formatting for the e-book. I know at least one story needs polishing - Lost Princess of Paradisia. I'll have to read through again to see about the rest of them.
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Carry On Tuesday: Walking away
Mar. 7th, 2011 03:57 pmThis is a weird one, from Carry on Tuesday and http://fictionwriting.about.com/od/writingexercises/ss/pictures.htm - prompt "And that is how I remember them"
And that is how I remember them, standing by the highway, he fussing over the tire, pretending he knew what was going on, she posing, as she liked to do, Mama’s little drama queen.
If it strikes you as odd that I can talk about them like that, the daughter I bore out of my own body, the man whose bed I shared for all the years after her birth, then remember: that moment, standing there on the desert highway, is the last time I saw either of them. I took a snapshot and told them I would walk to the nearest gas station and call for help.
To my credit, if you’re willing to credit anything to a woman who walks away from such things, I did call for help. Then I kept walking.
I hadn’t meant to. I’d meant to do exactly what I’d said when I’d headed out: call, then head back to the car and, maybe, salvage our vacation.
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And that is how I remember them, standing by the highway, he fussing over the tire, pretending he knew what was going on, she posing, as she liked to do, Mama’s little drama queen.
If it strikes you as odd that I can talk about them like that, the daughter I bore out of my own body, the man whose bed I shared for all the years after her birth, then remember: that moment, standing there on the desert highway, is the last time I saw either of them. I took a snapshot and told them I would walk to the nearest gas station and call for help.
To my credit, if you’re willing to credit anything to a woman who walks away from such things, I did call for help. Then I kept walking.
I hadn’t meant to. I’d meant to do exactly what I’d said when I’d headed out: call, then head back to the car and, maybe, salvage our vacation.
( Read more... )
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stryck is hosting Poetry Kitchen: Sonnet Side Up today! Give her a prompt and she will write a sonnet!haikujaguar has a sale on several of her ebooks for Read an Ebook Week