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This blog is a wide variety of things. Most titles are prompts I have followed. |
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This journal is a wide collection of things. Some of it is just a free flow of thoughts. Some of it is from Earl's 31-Day Challenge a long time ago. The rest is from given writing prompts that I have found around the Net from various groups to which I belong. It's not often that I rant about life in general, but you will find some of that here as well. Things here are mostly prompts I have followed. Maybe you will find a prompt that inspires you. Welcome to my blog! |
| Interview with Ben Langhinrichs > 1) What was the best thing you learned from being a Spotlighter? I'm not sure that I could name one thing. I most enjoyed the combination of pressure to meet the challenges and the friendly interactions between the spotlighters. Too many of the experiences I have writing are solitary, and it was really good to be part of a team. > 2) What did you ultimately take away from the challenge… what is the one thing that > sticks with you the most, even today? I met a bunch of people I like, and I felt good about the challenge. Still, the thing that sticks with me is partly confidence in writing essays and other non-fiction. > 3) How were you able to cope with the new demands to your writing schedule? It was not my busiest time of year, so I was mostly able to fit it in, but it was also very close to a vacation, and I simply couldn't do the reviews required. That was disappointing, as reviews have usually been something I get done easily. > 4) Why would you (or would you not) recommend the Author’s Spotlight to other > writers? This is a great way to stretch your skills, and even more your confidence. Like NaNo, which you seem to have participated in, the Author's Spotlight proves to you that you can do things you weren't sure you could. > 5) Did you find a new interest in any genres that you had not previously written in > extensively that you are still writing in because of the challenge? Perhaps the closest is a sense that essays or other non-fiction are not out of reach. It is probably due to this confidence and interest that I could later write One voter , of which I am quite proud. I also developed more confidence in my versatility as a pot, which then led me to my self-imposed challenge in August to write 13 poems based on a small set of prompts (see Baker's Dozen Poem Cycle ), and that turned out very well. > 6) What was your favorite piece that you wrote during the challenge and why? This is tough. I really like the "D4T1 - The Bad Hair Decision" essay, but the poem "D2T1 - Cold Grave" was a lot of fun to write as well. Interview with Michelle Berardo Klear 1) What was the best thing you learned from being a Spotlighter? I learned that I could write more than poetry. > > 2) What did you ultimately take away from the challenge… what is the one thing that > sticks with you the most, even today? I learned that I liked the challenge to get inspired and it pushed me to really reach beyond my comfort zone. > > 3) How were you able to cope with the new demands to your writing schedule? Yes. At the time I was all into it!! > > 4) Why would you (or would you not) recommend the Author’s Spotlight to other > writers? I am doing it again, so I guess I would have to recommend it. ha ha...I I would tell them to push beyond what they think they can do. > > 5) Did you find a new interest in any genres that you had not previously written in > extensively that you are still writing in because of the challenge? The only thing I liked writing before was poetry, but now I am comfortable with all kinds of writing, it really helped me move into other area's. > > 6) What was your favorite piece that you wrote during the challenge and why? I would have to go back and reread everything, but I do know that I really liked the short story or kids story, my kids loved it and that made me very happy. Thank you to both authors who took time out to answer my questions! ** Image ID #1464515 Unavailable ** |
| December 2: How Courteous Are We? The answer to this, I believe, lies in the activity in which we are taking part at the time. Having heard some stories from the recent Black Friday shopping extravaganza, I would say that people are not courteous at all. Thinking of a child today running to open the door of my restaurant for a man in wheel chair (she did not know the man, but happened to be near the front of the restaurant as he wheeled up), I would say we are very courteous. Seeing a driver tailgating or cutting off another driver, and a variety of hand gestures that go with that whole scene… again, not that courteous. I work in the service industry, and courtesy is a building block of all else. Without courtesy, there is no element of service. It’s the foundation. Watching my servers go out of their way to please a guest, simply because they enjoy it… Courtesy is alive and well. There are times that we, as a society, do not see others as people but as roadblocks to us getting what we want. Other times, the times when we slow down and really take a look at life, we see others for what they are: people with the same needs, wants, and range of feelings that we have. Sadly, I think we could all be a little more courteous. I see customers who are not courteous to my staff, as if they are some lower life form to be kicked around and badgered. But, when I, as the manager, approach the table, they are nice as can be and I resolve their problem. That makes no sense to me. The person taking care of the table is just as qualified as I am to fix any problem that may arise, but a customer may not be as courteous to that person as they are to me. I think that there are many ways we isolate ourselves from others, and, when we do that, we tend to be less courteous. We also tend to be less courteous when we are in a hurry. Face it, life is much faster paced that it used to be. I’m not saying that people are bad or that they do not want to be courteous. I think the opposite. It’s just that they often don’t take the time to really think about how their actions are affecting others around them – even people they may not know, or possibly ever even see again. ** Image ID #1464515 Unavailable ** |
| My first thoughts on terrorist attacks is that they are senseless. Then again, for small, extremist groups looking to raise their standing in that "community", if you will, I guess they accomplish something. I don't condone it by any stretch and think it is the most senseless waste of human life - but attacks such as that serve the purpose to call attention to the demands and feelings of the extremist group. As long as there are differences in religion, and only so much land, money, and other resources, there will always be arguments between differing factions. Something needs to be done, however, to bring differing sides to the table rather than simply bombing public gathering places and taking hostages to make a point. It seems senseless. To me, if a faction wanted to be taken seriously, this is definitely not the way to do it. I don't pretend to have any answers, and I'm not sure what answers are out there. If there were clear answers, I'm sure someone would have brought them up - someone other than a lowly restaurant manager such as myself. It's just sad that these things continue to go on in a "civilized" society. ** Image ID #1464515 Unavailable ** |
| Writing Prompt for 11/20 – Write about the “scary guy” in your neighborhood – from his perspective: The kids won’t even talk to me. Quite the reverse – they run when they see me coming, or point and laugh, calling me names, if they are within a safe distance when they see me. I usually turn to walk the other way. I’m never going anywhere in particular anyway, it seems. I don’t blame them. It’s the parents. They taught the children to fear me. I guess I can’t blame them, either. They are my generation, and the same generation that has forsaken me since I came back. A couple of them were there, too, but they act like I chose this life for myself, like a chose to no longer be able to adapt to a normal life. I am glad they do not understand what I go through from time to time. It’s nothing a human being should have to endure. I don’t know why sometimes the trees of the thick forest here suddenly remind me of the jungle, and a car backfiring brings me to a place where I am under fire and will surely lose the life of a friend, if not my own. I don’t know why I sleepwalk and sometimes wake up in the ditch alongside the road for the world to see on the morning drive to work or school. I guess I always go back to that place. That horrid country. I don’t say the name anymore. I refuse. Mark is different, though. He is smaller than the rest. I guess he doesn’t have any friends, either, and one day decided to take the chance on me. We play h-o-r-s-e together at the basketball court. It’s not a court, really. It is a small piece of blacktop that juts out from the side of the road, just enough to turn a car around in, and one of the older boys shimmied up a tree one day and secured an old barrel hoop up there. The backboard was cardboard, and replaced often, until one of the kids’ dads had an extra piece of plywood that he parted with. Mark comes today, with a long look on his face. I question him about it, and he sits under the shade of the trees with me on his brother’s basketball. It is obvious he has been crying. “Is it always that bad, Terry?” his voice is so quiet and scared that I put my arm around him and pull him closer. He doesn’t draw away. We are the only friends we have, as he always tells me. I’m not sure what he means at first, but press him to continue. “Andrew is going into the Army in two months.” I can tell he is apprehensive about continuing. Mark knows about some of the thing I saw and that it still affects me. I know he doesn’t want to jeopardize our friendship by saying anything bad about me, but he doesn’t want his brother Andrew to wind up like me. I don’t want that, either. I don’t wish that on anyone. “Mark, we’ve talked about how things happen for a reason, right?” “Yessir,” tears welled in his puffy brown eyes. “I guess the reason this happened to me is so I could have a friend like you in my life. Andrew’s already got you in his life, right? So, this doesn’t need to happen to him. It’s not in God’s plan.” It is my best attempt to make him feel better. I don’t know any more about God’s plan than anyone else. I wish that my life wasn’t part of his plan, but I have to believe that it is – that’s the only way I get through every day. Andrew is the only one in Mark’s family that knows Mark hangs around with me. I’m still not sure he likes the idea, but I’ve taught Mark to defend himself against bullies in school, and Andrew likes that, at least. “Will it happen to him, too, Terry?” Mark whispers. “I hope not, Mark. I sure hope not.” I pause, looking for words while asking the Lord to watch over Andrew. I feel strange again as my anger at the world resurfaces. I hated the world at one time, and if it takes away the normal life that Mark has, I will hate it again. “You better go now, Mark. I’m not feeling well,” I tell him, knowing what is coming, feeling the signs. “No sir,” I hear as the world changes around me where I sit on the ground with him. “I’m not afraid.” But I am afraid. I’m always afraid. I can’t stop it. I would if I could. The drugs they gave me stopped working years ago, and I’m not going to take anymore. There’s a reason I’m like this. There’s a reason I must bear this weight. I hear the machine guns and mortar exploding. I see Johnny’s body lifted up in the air and taste blood through the mud and debris. I hear screams and orders barked. I see a man rush at me, bayonet drawn. I feel… I feel a small hand grasp mine. |
| Well, I'm on the downside of the NaNo hill now, with over 40,000 words. This part is starting to be a great deal of fun for me. It helps that I now know where the plot is going and exactly how it's going to get there. Now it's just a sprint to the end. I did have one element of my plot that was just not going to work out, which involved a car chase that I really liked. I wanted to keep the car chase, so I had to make a few other arrangements to make it all plausible, but it was a fairly easy fix. I believe I'll have the novel draft done within the week and then be back here for more short stories, contests, and other sorts of writing. This was my first attempt at something of this length, and it has been a great experience for me, even if it never sees the light of day again. |
| Tonight I am glad the house is quiet and I have the place, basically, to myself. I'm making my final preparations for the craziness of NaNoWriMo next month. I've never attempted a novel, let alone writing 50,000 words in a month, but I truly think this will be a great experience for me. Tonight I'm working on some character sketches for some characters that are fairly important in the story. I have the main ones done, so that makes me feel pretty good. I don't like outlines -- never even liked them in school. They always seemed to formal and unchangeable for me in some ways. My story board, however, is my best friend! I bought the biggest piece of posterboard I could find (in a five pack, just in case I need more room!), and several packs of colored Post-It (R) notes. The yellow, lined ones hold questions or things I need to work on - for instance, I need to make a schedule for all employees in two seperate businesses for the days near a murder. Then I have another color (lime green) for dialogue that came to mind that I don't want to forget, another color for findings of investigations in the two towns in the story (purple)... I think you get the idea. The point is... I think I am ready. Of course, I've never done this before, so I am not certain that I am ready, and it is a daunting challenge, but I think it will be a lot of fun. I think, more than anything, I am looking forward to networking with other writers, as I do on this site. I think that is the most valuable thing for an aspiring author... to read others and to learn that we are all in the same boat, and having the same struggles. Thanks for reading! |
| I know that I said this would be a blog where I post writing prompts, but I just had to say, today, that I am SO enjoying learning from other writers on this site. I haev enjoyed reading others' works, and I have enjoyed reviewing them. I have posted a few here and there, and I have learned from the reviews I have gotten. I haven't found a community as dedicated to the craft as the one I have found here at writing.com! I do have a couple of friends who write a lot, and I have told them about the site, so I am hoping they have the same results. I joined as a paying member months ago, but the pursuit of my MBA seemed to get in the way of my writing. I did what was logical in the past... now I will do what I feel, and I will write, and I will review, and I will respond to reviews. As I prepare for NaNoWriMo next month, I am beginning to truly understand the importance of feedback from other writers and of learning about a craft from those who are honing it as well. I would like to thank everyone I have met on this site! |
| As Ellen sulked into the wooded area near the back of her new home, she immediately felt it was not like any of the others places she and her father had lived. There were no sirens, no catcalls. She saw no taxis or city buses. The emerald tree tops did not speak of crime or pollution. She had not lived in the city all of her life, but those had been the sights and sounds she had become accustomed to before they moved… again. Ellen thought back to another time. A better time, before they had moved away and the road had taken them even farther. She remembered the forest back then. She remembered its calm and peaceful feeling. While there was nothing foreboding about these acres, there was something different. That peace and calm did not grip her, no matter how far into the wood she went. She noticed the sun did not fully penetrate the foliage in any spot, but that it was in no way dark there. Instead the light seemed to come from the forest itself, from the very trees. She thought about going back to her new house, but what was the use? She had no friends there. She had nothing to do but sit around and watch her father prepare for his new position as the CEO of Hauser-Jennings. His job, always his life. As his positions grew in importance, she felt hers with him diminished exponentially. Books. Her books were all she had. Her friends lived in them. They were friends she never had to leave; friends who would never let her down. But now she had this forest. A strange forest, she mused. A squirrel ran by her, up the peeling bark of a white birch tree. It paused, seeming to wonder why she was here. “I don’t know, either,” she replied to the unasked question. “I just moved here. Dad’s busy. I have no friends here. I’m just walking. That’s all.” The squirrel watched her as she moved on, only to appear again many feet down the path. “What?” Ellen asked, almost annoyed. The squirrel cocked its gray, furry heat at her, scampered a few feet away, and looked back, as if to see if she was following, she thought. “Ell, you’re being crazy. Jet lag, or something. What, you’re going to have a squirrel for a friend? Great plan. That will get you far in life!” Ellen said to herself as she turned to walk back out of the woods. |
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