Silly Schedule Survey Time

Late Time

Clocks in a Little Shop in Gilman Village by Tommia Wright

Wanna help me with a schedule? Tell me in the comments below what three things you’d like to see weekly:

  • Camp NaNo Updates
  • Character Bios/backgrounds
  • Daily writing prompt/challenges
  • Making a character/story/setting
  • Postcards received/sent during Postcard Swap
  • Snippets from one story (which one in the comments)
  • Snippets from a variety of stories (which ones in the comments)
  • Soundtrack shares
  • Whatever I failed to list that you’re interested in (share in the comments).

Camp NaNoWriMo starts tomorrow. Are you ready?

beeker don't panic

 

Friday Fast One

Evan ball player

Evan George Gordon

“You’re welcome to use my sister’s glove,” Evan offered. “Brothers’ gloves are too big.”

Ashley picked it up, turned it over a few times, then put it back down. “I should get going.”

Evan shook his head. “No, because Nana invited you for dinner. Leaving now would be a sin. Some things you could get away with, but insulting her…nah, can’t let you do it.” He threw his mitt back in the box. “What’s the worst that can happen?”

They turned their heads towards the top of the stairs where a woman’s voice could be heard on the other side of the door. Evan didn’t find anything worrisome about the words or tone, and yet…

“It was too good to last,” Ashley whispered. “Tomorrow morning? Maybe we can try again tomorrow morning.”

The older boy nodded, hearing the pleading fear in his young friend’s voice. So close, yet so far. “We’ll try again tomorrow.”

(From “Who Knows”)

Wednesday Words

Gone Gated Door

“Let me tell you about my kid brother. Always followed me, he did. I went to New London; he did, too. I toyed with the idea of  and successfully conned my way into reserving land during my wild youth. He ‘went off the reservation’ for a season.

“I decided to volunteer for the advocacy; he did, too. I traveled the world capturing atrocities on film; he did, too. For a while, I headed a news company; he took to the same trade, other side of the screen.

“I drove myself to utter madness while looking into a lover’s eyes; a loved one saw the madness in his.

“You think these are the ramblings of one who’s had too much to drink, looking to find someplace new to sleep instead of breaking through the locked gate.

“I’m not the one locked in a prison.”

(From “Quietus: Quintet’s Demise)

 

Tuesday Tidbit

Alle Yomin

Alle Yomin

“Sometimes, my boy, what you fear most is often found within. So, be careful of how quickly you judge. Be careful of how quickly you condemn. Most importantly, be careful of how quickly you kill.”

Desmon Rune looked at the elder, this level of respect keeping him from saying something rash. “I’m not afraid,” he said.

“Of course not; there’s nothing to fear. Surrounded by the words of so those who lived before you, learning by the actions of those around you…So many possible offerings to give those who will follow you.”

Desmon walked backwards towards the door, anxious to get to the Learning Hall.

(From The Atkinson Chronicles)

Making a Character

alan-rickman-alan-rickman-25391248-311-461

Rickman – via Alan Rickman Timeless

The black and white image of Alan Rickman dancing in the play inspired a cultural key to Atkinson’s identity, expression, connection, and rejuvenation of the soul.

It’s while Atkinson is away from the Township, away from the confines of structured stones and restricted rules, that his spirit is free. Songs and movements of youth, of a time of innocence, are found once bare feet touch the ground.

Creating a Pinterest Board called ‘Characters of My Imagination’ serves as an eclectic collection of odds and ends, gestures, and expressions that weave themselves into a story, the fabric of a character, in one way or another. A playlist of various YouTube videos also add a spark, a hidden tone, from time to time.

How about you, dear writer? What ingredients have you used to bring your characters to life?

Preparing for Camp NaNo

The Trail

The Trail

While Fall waits in the wings with curtains of the changing-colored leaves, Summer has begun and it’s hard to believe it is almost time to prepare for Camp NaNoWriMo again!

In the upcoming days, details and snippets from past Camp NaNo/NaNo projects will be added to the page collection of other projects.

An earlier project:

Title: The Pied Piper of the Pier

Log Line: Who do the cats obey when rats are led astray?

Genre: Mystery/Suspense

Some of the cast:

Paul – part-time musician/part-time teacher

Quincy – library manager

 

Call Me, Al – Flight Risk

Flight Risk

Alven Sydney wandered for almost an hour before he found his runaway. He called his wife from a payphone, reassuring her that their eldest child was safe – angry, but safe. He watched as the sullen teen made her way from the pier towards the arts center, where she was expected to be, almost an hour later than the start of lesson that didn’t exist.

“Amelia, I think a different detour might be in order. Don’t worry and don’t wait up.” He paused. “If she’s serious about taking a plunge, maybe I can oblige.”

“The kids would be jealous if they knew,” Amelia told him. “Fine, just don’t get yourself killed.”

Alven made one more call before he returned to the car, pulling up to the front of the center sometime later as though nothing was wrong. Alejandra slammed the door with enough force to rattle the glass. “I hate work. That old bat-.”

“What did we say about-?”

“What do you care? You’re only married to my mother and-.” The teenager stopped the moment Alven turned off the radio.

“What have you been doing all this time?”

Alejandra didn’t answer, picking at the stickers on her notebook. “How long are you grounding me?”

He sighed. “Tonight, we rewrite the rules,” Alven said. “If you want to jump, let’s make the jump worthwhile, shall we?”

“How come you never get mad?”

Alven smiled. “It’s like Einstein said, ‘“We can’t solve problems by using the same kind of thinking we used when we created them.’ It seems to me that most problems come from anger…and running away.”

She ignored him, ejecting the disc from the player only to find it blank. “Let me guess, ‘The Chipmunks’ Greatest Hits,’ right?” She spun it about on her finger a few times before returning it, then tapping the ‘play’ button.

While ‘Flight of the Valkyries’ filled the car, Alven watched Alejandra try to get her bearings. By the time ‘Flight of the Bumblebee’ finished, they had arrived at their destination.

Alejandra wrapped her scarf about her. “What-?”

“I believe Albert said, ‘The only source of knowledge is experience.’” Alven stretched himself slowly. “Didn’t you say you wanted to know what it was like to free fall?”

She shoved her hands into her coat pockets. “Dad ordered me never to jump out of a plane, not that Mom will let me take lessons.”

“Wrong. You have money enough for-?”

“I don’t want you paying for it, though. My dream, my savings.”

Alven nodded. “Fair enough. As for diving, we don’t have to have a plane, just a plan.” He led the way to a tall, nondescript, windowless building, holding the door open for her before she could read the cardboard sign.

“Don’t expect me to be the miller’s daughter and spin straw into gold.”

“Then don’t expect me to be some boring professor who has only lived life through books. Let’s go. Bruce is expecting us.”

Alejandra followed him to the top of the stairs, feeling as though they were at least three flights up. “If you’re trying to scare me, it’s working.”

Alven put an arm around his daughter. “You and I are going diving, tonight.”

She shook her head. “That’s nonsense. You’re afraid of heights. You’ve always said-.”

“What I say and do aren’t often two different things. However, if you think you can run and hide from whatever you’re afraid of, I’m telling you – you’re wrong. You can never run away from yourself.”

“Who says I’m doing that,” Alejandra challenged.

Alven was silent as his friend Bruce took charge, explaining the basics of a simple skydive, while the three of them suited up.

Alejandra’s eyes opened wide as she stood at the edge of the wind tunnel below. Alven whispered as best he could, “Chin up, look straight ahead and let go.” He squeezed her hand. “My turn to follow your lead.”

After the lesson was over and another appointment made, Alejandra asked on the drive home, “What was that for?”

“Just following your lead,” Alven repeated. “Fly a plane, drive a speed car, scuba dive, I suspect you’ll rewrite whatever rules you’ve got in your head that are holding you back.”

Alejandra laughed. “I think ‘reckless’ describes you best.”

Alven gave her a side hug. “That’s a start. Sky’s the limit.” He whispered, “And next time you say you’re off to ‘violin lessons,’ be respectful enough to your mother and actually attend some, please?”

What is Time?

time

Time

Oh, that’s right…I have this blog. The one that gets dusted off just prior to NaNo, has a (relatively) decent pulse during NaNo, then fades into the forgotten realms for far too long…

Dear Reader, thank you for being here.

As the pencils get sharpened, the pens collected, the ‘perfect journal’ chosen, and the digital writing tools are charged up, old files downloaded, what would you like to see?

  • New snippets from projects past?
  • Character spotlights?
  • Random items from the upcoming, yet to be determined NaNo?
  • Something fictionally different from any of the above?
  • Something else?

 

Let me know and I’ll aim to make that happen. (smile)

Blindsided…

books2

Reading Corner by Tommia Wright

“Books won’t stay banned. They won’t burn. Ideas won’t go to jail.” ~Alfred Whitney Griswold

(Extended Exposure)

Rita Freemont held her taser, finger poised on the button. Scully’s silence only increased her heart rate as she pushed the door open, thankful it didn’t creak this time.

She scanned the living room first, frowning. Most break-ins resulted in things taken. Dozens of plastic bags piled upon and all around her coffee table was the last thing she expected. It was senseless to remain in her apartment if it meant more unusual finds.

Rita backed out of the apartment, deciding it was best to call the police from her neighbor’s place. Taser back in her purse, other hand poised to knock on the door, she could hear the familiar yipping of her little rescue mutt.

Jared Russell juggled another half-dozen bags with Scully in tow.

“Did your landlord kick you out,” she quipped, grabbing a couple of the bags from him then leading the way back inside, securing the door this time behind them.

Her fiance shook his head “The moronic mob wanted to clear the alternative high school of any and all ‘questionable, demonic texts’ from their library. Some of the kids and I threw as many as we could into my car, the principal’s car, and anyone else’s in the area.”

“Why didn’t they just lock the doors and call the police?” Rita sorted the books so none of the paperbacks were folded under the weight.

“What good would keys do when it’s the damn janitor’s leading the charge? Don’t worry, sheriff’s on his way, but still… Do you know how long it took just to get the library to the state it was in now? Idiots want a bonfire, they could drive out to the beach like everyone else and roast their own marshmallow brains.”

“Which section did you manage to abscond with?”

Jared’s lip curled up. “The Banned Books display collection, law, and science. Heaven forbid if the kids learn anything practical, right?”