Castle by Jacqueline Fedyk
If you haven’t had a chance to download the ebook, A Month of Writing Prompts by Julie Duffy, you should!
The meandering snippets are based on the prompts from Volume 3. The title is a reworking of the day’s exercise, The Ugly Duckling Structure. It seems simple how Hans Christian Anderson’s stories dealt with balance (sad beginning, happy ending) point by point.
How many of your stories have that structure, where the “Life.Changing. Moment.” happens in the middle, setting your hero/protagonist on a journey where all is now right with the world?
Of the projects ‘spinning on the plotter’s wheel,’ I might have an answer to share…tomorrow.
Friends, Fun, and Frivolous Fridays!
Courtesy of Old Design Shop
She wished things weren’t the way they were, running from invisible phantoms that only her friend heard.
Candlelit dinners were the exchange for childhood sleepovers with required nightlights. Then, her friend’s eyes looked like gems caught in the cross-hairs of flashlights and moonlight. Now, with only the half-height wax watchmen, those same eyes were kissed with insanity.
No, she didn’t miss being kissed by the created characters of her friend’s mind, the ones voiced with cartoonish voices. She tuned
I deem it unnecessary to write a snippet in the first person, because I am the first person to tell you I enjoy it – no!
(Or, the short response to the “Story a Day” challenge for Day 4 (quoth the Buddy Bear, ne’ermore!)
How well do you do, dear writer, with stories in the first person?
The challenge today was a 100-word drabble.’Forget that plan,’ said the cat. ‘No need to babble.’
(Or what happens when you mix Merriam Webster’s word of the day with A Story A Day’s challenge, and pasting the last thing you (don’t remember that you) copied and complete, utter nonsense.
An Invisible Thread
Blame it on the state Mom was in, or the frame of mind brought on by the holiday. (Scrooge could look downright cheerful in this relay race of misery). Either way, Forest ignored the complaints, instead, adjusting the invisible thread tied about at the waist, meant to help with the pail full of water and pebbles. The puppy was going to gain up on them, so Forest had to raise the pails higher.
It was all Forest could do to not toss either pail at the mayor, who had to ramble on and on about the airplane he was going to purchase, if any of the tax payers’ money might remain. The baleful look in those beady little eyes made Forest squirm, wishing more and more that Forest could turn the Mayor into a worm!
The last thing she wanted to do was to have to take care of a dog. She hated them – dogs, cats, birds, any animals, really. And yet, the happy brown puppy found its way into her garage, again.
Grumbling, she put on her snow boots, then gloves, coat, scarf, and hat. Maybe, just maybe, as she shoved the path from the garage to the mailbox, the dog might find a car to chase after and a new family to call ‘home.’
For every shovel-full of snow she tossed to the side, the puppy jumped in an attempt to eat half of it. She smiled, despite herself. Hints of her baby brother, Benny, could be seen as white powdered the brown. Always jumping up for the unnecessary, the silly, the pure joy.
“Keep it up, you won’t have no room for steak and eggs when we get back, Mutt.” She didn’t plan on having steak and eggs for breakfast, content with the usual bowl of oatmeal. But the morning seemed to warrant a change, and not because of the year on the calendar.
Who knew the new year would bring a four-footed friend she’d admit to claiming as family.