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FRIENDS MOSTLY
At the moment this journal is mostly locked to friends. A few things are still left open to read.
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( Chapter Nine )
If anyone is still reading, I'd love to know your thoughts on the story so far. Anything worth keeping in there? I promise you there's nothing negative you can say about it that I'm not already thinking.
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( Chapter Five )
I'm going to stop with the disclaimers. Suffice it to say, anything tagged NaNoWriMo is a first draft.
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Okay, I'm going to try and clean things up a bit around here and only post completed chapters instead of these "half of chapter three, part of chapter four." It means that today's post will be a little weird, since I'll be repeating part of chapter three from yesterday.
( Chapter 3, all of it. )
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( Mostly Chapter 3... )
Usual disclaimer: I'd love comments, but I am aware that it's not very well written yet.
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( The Third Wish: Chapter Two )
Disclaimer: This is the first draft of a novel for NaNoWriMo. The idea is to write quickly and edit later. Still, comments are always appreciated.
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( Read more... )
Usual disclaimer: National Novel Writing Month encourages very fast writing and very little editing, but I'd still love to read your comments on this work in progress.
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I know there's sort of an unspoken rule between Twitter users and non-Twitter users: thou shalt not talk about Twitter outside of Twitter (or: the first rule of Twitter is you don't talk about Twitter; or: what happens on Twitter stays on Twitter), but I'm going to break it for a moment.
Since the advent of the 140 character limit of Twitter, a new style of fiction has sprung up: the microfic (also called the nanofic, the twitterfic, or the very short story (#vss)) -- stories told in 140 characters or fewer (including spaces). I've written a few and want to post them here. Some are more successful than others.
"Didn't you sleep well?" Mina asked, pouring the coffee. "I slept like the dead," Lucy said, fingering the twin marks on her neck.
Earth Day: We kept a jar of earth under the sink, handed down over the years. No one goes back to the homeworld to worship anymore.
“Should we tell the man in the lab coat it’s all an experiment?” one white rat asked the other. “Not until he finds the cheese.”
Atop the last hill above the spaceport they climbed out of the cars to admire the view- all but Kate, who saw only death in those ships
There was a vampire sitting on my couch when I came in. "Mina let me in," he explained. I glared at my cat. "Traitor." She just purred.
Death became a real jerk when he decided to take up celebrity autograph collecting.
When the world ends the kitties will survive, twiddling their prosthetic thumbs, worrying over where they will find their next meal.
Once upon a time there was a princess who had to marry a prince. When the duel ended in a draw no one was happy except for the bookies.
The pen said, "Don't use me! I'm cursed. I write only a perfect page of prose; nothing can ever compare." Of course, he used it anyway.
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Oh, my all too seldom used writing journal.
What this was supposed to be: A place to keep and catalogue my writing work. Somewhere to post my stories so that friends could read them and give me feedback all in one place with easy (or fairly easy) access. Somewhere that I could look back and see my writing progress.
What it has become: Dusty.
Yes, I still write. I just don't finish anything. And thus, the pages of this journal sit blank. I do expect to have a new story coming by the end of the month.
What this post is really about:
Next month is November -- National Novel Writing Month. In the past, I've posted daily dumps of my novel in progress here. This is your one warning that in 15 days this may occur again. I may even manage to post all the way through the month instead of stopping the posts half-way through as I become too embarrased of the work in progress to show it. I don't know.
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The challenge: Write a fragment of a story from the POV of an unreliable narrator -- third person limited (or attached) narration.
In the end, I'm not sure I achieved the challenge, nor am I satisfied with what came out.
( The Crash )
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The challenge, part one: to write 100-150 words of narrative in short sentences of no more than seven words each, no fragments allowed.
I think this is a continuation of my Untitled (Try the Blue Stuff) story. 115 words.
( Coward )
The challenge, part two: to write up to 350 words of narrative that is all one complex sentence.
I actually rather like this sentence. It's 122 words long. It is 122 words of science fiction.
( The Spaceport )
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The challenge: to write a paragraph to a page without using punctuation or paragraph breaks.
I hate this challenge. I think I died a little inside writing this. It's supposed to teach me how wonderful punctuation is. I didn't need a lesson; I love punctuation. As you might have guessed, what follows is one very long runon sentence.
( Thanksgiving, Without a Break )
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The Challenge: to write a story or paragraph meant to be read aloud, using onomatopoeia, alliteration, repitition, etc. but not rhyme or meter.
I'm not 100% happy with this, so feedback is appreciated.
The myth is mine, but I'm sure I'm not the first person to come up with it.
( The Story of Lonely-God )
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You can blame LJ's recent writing prompt about a Zombie Apocalypse and Whitney reminding me how fun drabbles are.
It was always one more week, one more and we'll go back. We'll go home and check. But we never did. We left with nothing. A few snacks, some fuel, a car. We had one book that we'd all read now and half a deck of cards and were on each other's nerves. It was getting cold and we had no coats. The radio was quiet. The forest was empty, eerily so. No animals, no people, only us. We hoped. We were afraid. Not knowing was the worst part. But how long until you know the zombie apocalypse is over?
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The challenge: use 10 pre-chosen subject lines from TheOneRing.net's message boards.
- Yeah, I wanted to see him shimmy and shake.
- I don't think they shifted the mountain range and here's why..
- You mean those rocky things?
- A bit too blue for you?
- I think it's lace.
- Well, how about two guinea pigs?
- Prettiest corpse on the battlefield
- It can lie flat, but...
- Death by sewing needle.
- Wow...is that what it looks like?
Two Rohan soldiers come across Haldir's body at the end of TTT:
“Well, if that isn't the Prettiest corpse on the battlefield! Funny, I thought elves were immortal.”
“Elves? How can you tell it's an elf?”
“The fabric under his armor... I think it's lace.”
“Wow...is that what it looks like? Don't see much of it around here. It's cool that it can lie flat, but... Anyway, didn't protect him much now, did it?”
“No. Death by sewing needle, I suppose.”
“I thought he was killed by an orc.”
“I thought they were uruks. Might as well have been female dwarves for all I can tell.”
“Well, how about two guinea pigs?”
“Huh? Oh yeah, sure that too. It's a shame, I wanted to talk with him at the victory celebration.”
“Yeah, I wanted to see him shimmy and shake. It's going to be downright depressing without the elves there.”
“A bit too blue for you? Guess it's just as well. Hey, do you think the Horn of Hammerhand moved those mountains?”
“You mean those rocky things? Nah, I don't think they shifted the mountain range and here's why...”
Fade to black.
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