I'm Moving!

Not literally. Unfortunately.

After much deliberation and contention with Blogger, I've decided to make the shift over to WordPress. I'll continue my quest to writerdom here.

Adios!

100 Words #7

In her darkest hour, Providence loomed in the shadows. Begging, pleading, and tears all appeared fruitless; she would never have peace again. Growing up, His love had coated her throat and flooded her ears. Never had she questioned or felt alone - but now? Darkness was so thick and opaque, it threatened to let nothing through. Desperation clouded her mind, preventing the world from hearing her frantic pleas.

How she longed to feel the gloom shatter with warming light! To feel all of her worries wash away with His powerful grace! She believed in His power, why was it not enough?

100 Words #6

There is something noticeably missing & off in these. I can't figure out what for the life of me, except maybe that I'm trying too hard? Bah.

She whisked the pan with the finesse of an expert, and heavy, spicy aromas tinged her nose with each flick of her wrist to taunt her taste buds. Prior to Antonio's saucy cooking class, Carla swore to never spend another second of her life in a kitchen again. Perhaps it was the way his "r"s rolled gently off his lips while demonstrating the proper mixing technique that caused her to reacquaint herself. Or the rhythmic way he moved about the cooking space, as if the spatula was his tango partner. That was probably it – after all, she is only human.

100 Words #5

Agile fingers sprinted across tender silk, smoothing away wrinkles and remenants of ash. Outside, murmurs of activity snaked under her door as a reminder of the nights festivities, for merely steps away gathered a crowd like none other, eagerly awaiting her arrival. If nerves were flowers, her stomach was knotted in roots. Rather abruptly, a keen wind smothered the crackling fireplace and she was bathed in reflective silence. "The show must go on," she sighed. Glancing at the photo of her dearly departed mother for strength, Emma swallowed her nerves and unearthed a taut smile. "The show must go on."

100 Words #4

A shadowy menace oozed through the city on a hungry trek for vengeance. Debris cascaded down in frenzied patterns, masking the shrill screams echoing across the waste. They pleaded for rescue, for mercy, for answers. The only response resonated through menacing rumbles of the citys implosion. Where was their savior? What had they done to deserve such cruel injustice?

"MOMMY! JACK BROKE MY BARBIES!"

In an instant, warm light surrounded the battered patrons, caressing their broken spirits. Had their prayers been answered? "Jack! Leave your sisters toys alone!"

"Awww, mom!"

"Don't argue."

The erroneous destroyer was defeated! They were saved!

---

I use an app called iStop Writers Block to come up with the prompts for my 100 word challenges. The "challenge" subsection generates random things to have happen, words to use, concepts to deploy, etc. Today's was "Destroy a city in 3 sentences." Just for fun, here is what I originally had. I still feel exceptionally rusty, but I think it's getting there.. slowly:

Debris cascaded down in frenzied patterns, destroying all in its wake. Low, menacing rumbles erupted with each tremor as the city began to implode upon itself. Shrill screams echoed across the city, pleading for rescue, for answers, for mercy. The shadowy menace trekked slowly through, accounting for no survivors, on the hungry trek for vengeance.

One heavy foot after the other, one wrathful fist following the next. Where was their savior? What had they done to deserve this cruel injustice? Their world lay in ruin, and it just wasn't fair!

"MOM! TIMMY KNOCKED MY BARBIES OVER AGAIN!"

Their hero arrived!

100 Words #3

"I don't want to appear overly circumspect, but I believe we are being followed," Harry muttered quietly into a beer bottle, poised only inches from his lips.

Ben leaned back in his chair to stretch, and casusally glanced from side to side, as if looking for a clock. "Doubtful," he shrugged nonchalantly and returned to his scotch. "This place is a sausagefest."

Harry eyed his friend reluctantly, before grabbing a handful of peanuts and cramming them in his mouth. "If my wife is hiding behind a corner or under a bar stool and I'm caught, you're a dead man."

Bah! What to Write!

After years of barren story lines and non-existent plots, I have finally got the bug to write again - with stories to flesh out! Inconceivable! [And hey, I know what that word means!] The problem is deciding where to start, which to save for November, and which to merge. I was able to put two together about a week ago, but it's not enough for me to start. What else is there to do but outline them?

1. Blame it on the Weatherman

I have had this idea floating in my brain since high school. Over five years ago! Never has it been fleshed out. Once or twice it was attempted, but never successfully. Maybe this will finally be its time to shine? A story about Hell, in the form of a corporation and fronted by a rather likable Satan. A young man finds himself sitting in their receptionists office, given the general run down of his new job duties within the company. Problem? He was "decently religious" and has NO idea why he is there. Woven in somewhere is a large party at Satan's estate that absolutely crumples to pieces and the frantic search to find who is responsible begins. Each chapter was to be narrated by a different character, and their POV of what happens. I'd really, really love to flesh this out some more.

2. Untitled Action Piece

This all started with one of my moms coworkers, a pilot with what is quite possibly the most amazing action hero name out there, save for Indiana Jones. Except it's his real name. FANTASTIC. Anyway, he heard I liked to write and has been begging for a story ever since. Problem is I have never ever ever written an action story nor a period piece, and am completely overwhelmed at the thought of it. One night, we sat around a firepit and concocted a ridiculous and fantastical story for him, but I could never put pen to paper for him. Ever. Then I remembered a reoccuring dream I used to have as a teen about being stuck in a forest with a very adventure-themed plot line to it. He could totally fit, and I've wanted to make more of the dream for years upon years as well, but I have absolutely no idea how to turn it into something feasible and... not lame. The research that would be needed as well is kind of daunting.

3. Use Them, Then Lose Them

Fairly close to a memoir, a story of a young girl who throws everything away to follow a military member, and the absolute ridiculousness that then follows. The crazies, the uncertainty, the learning to trust your heart and instincts, etc. Though I'm not really sure how ready I am to crank it out.

What I really want to do is dive into Blame it on the Weatherman - but what, then, would I be left with for November? Going in cold turkey is terrifying! Then again, I suppose there is still plenty of time for something to come up. Decisions, decisions...