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October 08, 2010

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Melissa

I agree totally! I think I need one of those writing prompts though or I'll spend the 10 minutes thinking about what to write about for fun! LOL

When I did the writing prompt this week I could swear the inner critic didn't show up at all. Yay! In the back of my mind I think it was there. Only, the difference was I wasn't, as your quote points out, writing to produce something important. It wasn't work and my future didn't depend on it. But it might become important. I agree it sprouted some seeds for maybe a future story.

Ever since that writing prompt I've been attempting to write a blog about this, but ironically, it's probably going to stay in draft from because I'm stuck on making this point to give the IC credit! Maybe I turned it into work or something too important. LOL I'm glad you sorted it out! :)

Liz Fichera

Write with abandon. Great idea! I think that's one of the reasons why blogging is a lot of fun. You can write whatever is on your mind.

Donna Cummings

Melissa, you sound like me -- THINKING about what to write for fun. LOL I think writing prompts can give you a good jumping off point because otherwise there's TOO MANY possibilities, which can stop you cold.

But I'm glad to hear that the puppy/ball prompt sprouted some seeds. And I would love to read your blog post -- I do think the IC deserves credit -- so maybe try it in ten-minute bursts. :)

Donna Cummings

Liz, "write with abandon" sounds so much sexier! LOL I think you're right about the freedom blogging gives us, which may be why I love it so much. :)

Maureen

I think that this is how I write my blogs. With a spirit of total abandon and wanton recklessness. (I like that phrase...must note it down somewhere...)

Anyway! I do like the idea of taking another sniglet of an idea and just giving it ten minutes to run wild.

I'll do it and report back!

Donna Cummings

Maureen, I like that phrase too. It's a good way to go about writing, as well as life. :)

I'm going to do my ten minutes soon and then come back to see what you're reporting. Hopefully I'll have something I can show too!

Maureen

OK, Donnaroo... I did it. Set down the base for a book I've had in my mind...

A project for NaNo? Not that I've ever done that, but this one's been floating around in the back of my brain for awhile and I do have a bare outline for it...

What do you think? -----

She looked down at the water, foaming so brightly in the ship’s wake. It had been a good life. She’d spent more than 60 years with the man she loved. Fpund success at her chosen profession. Made peace with all family members. Now she was tired. Tired and ready to just slide away.

Damn her good health. Sure the normal aches and pains of being 80. But for the rest, her body gave no sign of bidding farewell to this mortal coil.

Yet her spirit was more than ready. Glancing behind her she saw no one approaching. 3 am on a cruise ship, middle of the Caribbean, after a busy port. No one was about. She was sorry for the crew who might be monitoring the situation, but she was done.

Quickly, she used the suitcase she’d brought with her to step up to the stern rail. With a bare glance behind she threw herself off the boat.

It was a long fall but she felt no fear. She was flying, finally flying.

The water hit hard, and she didn’t feel anything past that. She sank.

Forty years later, she woke up the first time. And she screamed at the pain and the wrongness. Faceless figures hovered above her. Some words of comfort? She didn’t know and she didn’t care. She wasn’t supposed to be waking up!

Closing her eyes, she chose to die again.

And again.

And again.

Not until the forth time did she accept her new chance. She didn’t look back.

*****

Ensign Mathers of the Naval research ship Augustine spied the raft while taking a smoke break. He called out to a crewmate and soon a dozen sailors were pointing and directing the recovery zodiac. Mathers couldn’t who or what they found until the rubber raft returned to the ship. A single figure was helped out, wrapped in a blanket.

----- Your turn, Donna. No backing out. We never did get to see your puppy playing effort! ;-)

Donna Cummings

Oooh, that's very intriguing! I like the sentence about her being sorry for the crew who might be monitoring the situation -- it really lets you know that she's planning on going over. I can't wait to see where it goes next!

And definitely give NaNoWriMo a shot. I finished the first time I did it (that's actually the revisions I'm working on now!), and the book that's on sub started as a NaNo book, but I couldn't finish it then -- life was too crazy -- but that's where it got its start. :)

You must have missed my puppy story, because I definitely posted one! It's at the end of the comments, on page 2. And I'm off to go work on my 10 minutes so I'll have something to show later.

Great job! You're very inspiring. :)

Maureen

OK, sorry, I missed the second page of comments! Great puppy story and Ter is right, the last line is great. And that was some throw! LOL!

Yeah, I've been challenged by a few people to do NaNo. First, I finish the current WIP. I'll break it down into what I need to do each day before NaNo starts and if I get it done, I'll dive into NaNo.

Have to do something to stay occupied while I wait for revisions!

Maureen

Okay, I write 1400 words a day for the rest of October and I'll do NaNo.

Hey, I just want to finish the story, doesn't have to be submission ready! LOL!

Donna Cummings

Honestly, I didn't realize it would go to two pages of comments! This was the first time it happened. And yeah, that was quite a throw on her part -- LOL -- I guess I didn't say what kind of ball it was tho!

The daily word count for NaNo is 1667, which is when I got used to going that pace, and found that it's comfortable. It's also when I found out I was a pantser -- the best discovery of all! And yes, it's not meant to be submission ready. It's the first draft of a manuscript. :)

Maureen

Well, just have to finish the first draft of this book, then I can work on the NaNo.

Though I reserve the right to drop it like a hot potato if my revisions come through. First things first!

Donna Cummings

Okay, here's mine. It was really fun. I'm not sure what I'll do with it, but it felt very liberating. :)
__________

The email didn't go through—again. How was she supposed to contact the elusive Mr. Jones if her email wasn't even cooperating. Not that he was. He was not only elusive, but reclusive. Everyone wanted to talk to him, or interview him, including her.

But unlike everyone else, her reasons were important.

She wasn't interested in having him speak with her because it would be his first public interview in ten years. No, she wanted to know why he'd left, after she'd been hurt in the accident. She remembered a kiss on her forehead, a sense of overwhelming peace, followed by the feeling of her soul being ripped out with her heart.

She'd never seen him before, or since.

But she'd seen TV reporters with their cameras from that night, and how they'd tried to get him to say a few words for the people at home. He'd refused, saying he wasn't a hero. He looked like one, with his dark hair and sharp features, although he tried to hide that with a fierce scowl. His eyes gave him away though. There was tenderness there, along with something akin to pain. The media had hounded him the next few days, and then months. After a while it became like a siege, to see who could outlast the other.

It looked like he'd finally won. Until she had decided she wanted to know more about that night. She only knew there'd been an accident, and that she'd been hurt. But where had he come from? He'd felt like a protector, but then he'd disappeared, leaving her more bereft than before.

Well if email didn't work, there was always the phone. Which she would have in her hand when she landed on his doorstep.

***

His finger hovered over the Delete key. She was relentless, that one. There was no reason for her to seek him out. He'd saved her from a certain death, and would do so again, if needed. He hoped it would not be necessary though. It took a little bit away from him each time he protected her from the demons seeking her out. Even though it was his job to keep her safe, he wished he had not been given the task. His feelings for her had grown over the years to the point that he found it unbearable to continue with this responsibility.

He had tried to stay hidden since her accident, but it was much harder to do in this century than in previous ones. Especially with young women who prided themselves on their resilience and determination. He admired those traits, but it was rather disagreeable to be on the receiving end of them, as he was now.

He pressed the key, deleting the message. It saddened him, but it was for the best. She didn't need to know anything more about him, nor did she need to see him and talk face-to-face. It would just make things more difficult. For both of them.

Maureen

Okay! Nice! I had no idea you were going paranormal until he mentioned demons! You sneaky thing, you!

Did you figure out I snuck aliens into mine? Hee, hee.

We be sneaky!

Donna Cummings

I didn't know it was going there either! It just came out that way. LOL I decided I'd write about that pesky woodpecker outside, but then I was irritated about an email not going through -- and that's how this started. LOL

I knew you had something supernatural, but I didn't realize they were aliens. Yikes!

Sneaky sneaky! LOL

Jan O'Hara

Holy smokes! You guys can write like that in the first draft? *cringes* Don't think I'll be sharing my playful stuff with you.

But.

I do like to play. It's vital for my muse. And I have no idea why or how, but I often loosen up with poetry. I can't do the lyrical stuff, but rhyming poetry, Limericks, etc. I love it. It speaks to the stunted kid in my blackhearted soul. (Or whatever.)

Donna Cummings

Jan, don't be scared! I hope you had a chance to see some of the fun things on Monday -- it was about voice, and lots of people contributed a short snippet based on a puppy chasing a ball, and it was fascinating to see how different everyone's story, and voice, was.

I applaud you for stretching your muscles with poetry. I find it tricky -- mainly because I need more words than that! LOL I always envy anyone who can do it.

You won't convince me you have a blackhearted soul. You are much too lyrical for that. :)

Maureen

Jan - Poetry is hard. It's very concise and takes picking the perfect word. Not the perfect words! It is about the hardest thing around to do!

Donna Cummings

Maureen, you are so right -- poetry is harder because of the precision involved. It's more like surgery than clear cutting with a machete. LOL

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