#amwritng

[scriptwriters-network]

The only way to learn to write is to write.

— Peggy Teeters

[madlovenovelist]

How Have Streaming Services Changed Your Reading Habits?

DISCUSSION POST: The idiot box vs. the written word Remember the days when the television would be on in the background because you either have to get up off the couch and use the dial on the set to change the channel, or you lost the remote to that place where one of all your socks disappear to? Remember free-to-air television programming dominated with news and reality shows, or maybe those…

[schofillwrites]

Any form of writing that is intended to support a business or organization's operations and is addressed to both internal and external audiences inside the qualified writer's organization is considered professional writing.

[storyunrelated]

There’s a lot of buzzzzz around the town about this one, bee sure of that.

@flashfictionfridayofficial (Sweet surprise)

-

He was wheezing, but you wouldn’t have been able to make it out over the sound of the buzzing. The sound of the buzzing was deafening. It made the windows rattle, it made it hard to think.

Not that anyone was there to try and listen to how he was struggling to breathe, of course. The sheer number of bees filling the room would have deterred all but the most determined and the best equipped, and that was assuming anyone had known he was there in the first place, which no-one did.

He was alone. And he was full of bees.

This, really, was the cause of his woes. The human body was not made to accommodate bees. It could, in a pinch, perhaps contain one or two - swallowed by accident, maybe - or even a great deal more than one or two worn as a tasteful (and surprisingly heavy) beard, if you were down for that sort of thing.

But it was not made to be a hive, which is what he basically now was. His skin pockmarked with bee-sized entrances and exits, his nose and eyes dribbling honey, his interior spaces packed with honeycomb and tiny, writhing, buzzing bodies. By all accounts he shouldn’t even have still been alive.

And yet he was, as he had been for days now in this state, unable to stand, barely able to breathe, incapable of calling for help, ears full of buzzing and eyes fixed on a point some great distance away, seeing nothing.

At some point – it didn’t matter when, the room didn’t have a window and his watch was covered in bees  -  he managed, through supreme force of will, to raise a hand to his face, where it feebly rubbed some of the leaking honey away.

Experimentally, without giving it much thought, he stuck out his sting-swollen tongue and touched it to the honey, just because it was on his hand and was sticky and his mind was thick enough it seem the natural thing to do.

A pause. His hand dropped back to his side.

“Sweet…I’m sweet…” he said to himself before breaking into giggles.

Or at least as close to giggles as he could manage.

More twitching and hissing, really.

Hissing with a buzzing edge.

[talesfromgringolandia]

Bo and Shen Ch.2 - A Child's Longing

Inspired by this art by Ellysiumn, found on r/WritingPrompts

"You ever wonder what they are?"

Bo looked up from his book at Shen, who hung from the banister by her elbows, staring at the lights that barely drifted above the trees. "They always show up around this time o' year. It's hardly a novel occurrence," he replied.

"I know, I know, but what are they?" she sighed, sinking even deeper than before. Bo wasn't quite sure how her elbows supported her weight at that angle. "Every year, they float out of the swamp and light up the night. They're so pretty and we 'ave no idea what they are."

"Well, what do you think they are?" Bo prompted, flipping through his book. That should keep her going for a while.

"I don't know. Maybe they're some kind of plant that needs to spread their seeds, and so when the fruit fully grows they float away to look for a sunny hill." Shen stood up and began pacing the deck. "Maybe they're like rocks or something that floats around when the river tide is low! Or maybe they're eggs! Like, really really big insect eggs that need to get everywhere so that the entire species is never in one place! Or maybe those insects are really territorial and hate each other so much that they want to throw their eggs away as far as possible so that they never ever ever need to see another insect!"

She turned excitedly to Bo to see him calmly reading his book, and instantly deflated. "Yer not listenin', are yeh?"

"Somethin’ somethin’ rocks, somethin’ somethin’ insects," Bo recited without looking up. "Here, come look at this."

"At what?" Shen sat down on the arm of the chair and peered down at Bo's books.

"They're Relko eggs." On the paper was an illustration of one of the glowing ellipses that currently filled their view. Most of the page was taken up by text, which Bo proceeded to read aloud. "'A large reptile that lives in the trees. Relko are dangerous predators which prey upon fish and birds. Their habitat is swamp...' yada yada... 'the egg employs an incredibly exotic mechanism to protect the chick inside from predators, including adult relko. As summertime approaches and the eggs are about to hatch, they detach from their roots, where they are guarded by their mother, and float into the air. After a couple hours, the egg will open from the bottom, dropping the chick, hopefully onto some trees, where it will be able to hide and avoid predators.' So there ya go. They're a weird kind of egg."

"Wow," shen sighed in amazement. "So I was pretty close, huh? They do need to get away from each other, so they float away!" She leapt from the chair arm and tip-toed across the room, trying to imitate a floating egg. "That book’s actually pretty cool!"

"Amazing right?" Bo replied sarcastically. "We can actually learn things without riskin’ our lives."

Shen twirled around the balcony oblivious to Bo's remark. "We should get one."

"One what?"

"A relker."

"A-a what? Did you not hear the part about relko bein' dangerous?"

"Yeah, but we can train it. All we need is the egg and it'll hatch right ‘ere!"

"Ok. Shen," Bo closed the book and laid it on the table beside him, leaning forward to focus on his sister. "All yer other ideas at least made an ounce of sense, given what we knew at the time. They were understandable. But you now want to bring a dangerous predator into our home."

"We can train it." Shen gazed cheerily at Bo, who stared, uncomprehending, back at her for a couple seconds.

Finally he replied. "Shen, we are not bringing a dangerous reptile into this house."

Her smile fell, replaced by a pouting face. "But it's not dangerous! We'll train ‘im good!"

"No."

With that, Shen punched him in the shoulder, then ran inside and slammed the door behind her. Bo rubbed the bruise, and gazed out at the strange eggs that illuminated the bog. "Dammit Shen," he muttered. Despite what he tried to present, he was always moved a little by his sister's attempts at adventure. "Some day yer gonna make me do somethin' I'll regret."

Previous part | Next Part

[writingdotcoffee]

Good story ideas seem to come quite literally from nowhere, sailing at you right out of the empty sky: two previously unrelated ideas come together and make something new under the sun. Your job isn’t to find these ideas but to recognize them when they show up.

Stephen King

[rho-kassiopeia]

Writing is just Googling words to make sure that you’re using them correctly.

[lettersandinkstains]

only you and sky

(stylized choice cw: non detailed lemon / citrus for blood upon the altar, mlm with canonized aston / matija -- no tag list will be used for this)

i. Matija has a soft glow to him at times -- whether it’s from the sun or the moon, it’s still enchanting and enticing. This is not unnatural for the Fae, who were blessed with beauty beyond compare.

ii. Even softer are his lips -- tender and light -- and he knows what he’s doing with each touch.

iii. Aston sometimes wonders -- is there a line that has been crossed? He knows he’s a flirt, he knows that the moment when flesh becomes and intertwined, he could never go back --- the emotions would be come real. His thoughts and feelings would solidify.

iv. And he chases after ghosts that he can never quite catch, a guilt that hangs heavy in his heart. Matija talks of family some day -- and Aston admires how excited the other is that the prospect. And somewhere deep inside of him, he wishes that family would be with him.

v. When Matija comes across the scars, the disfigurement and enclaves of injuries caused by a man drunk with anger, irrational and hate, he lies and he always lies. Someone as wonderful as Matija does not need to know what secrets follow. After all, they both have skeletons in the closet and if they let them out, who knows what monsters will follow?

vi. But all thoughts and promises and pasts and futures disappear when soft lips touch his for what feels like the first and millionth time, and they entangle again and again.

vii. Aleks gives him judging looks at the red spots on his neck, and Matija just smiles as Adrienne waggles her brows. Yet, he only grabs Matija’s hand and holds it tightly. Come hell and the wrath of a dead god, he would never want to let.

[weminence]

January 2020 recap and February Goals

JANUARY

~ write five fics

None

~ read 2 books

I read three

~ cook 4 things

I only cooked chicken fried steak but I actually made mashed potatoes with it this time.

~ try seeing ransom riggs

I mean I asked. But it wasn't feasible right now TT-TT

~ work on jacket

Yeah a little

~ finish painting projects

I finished 2

~ draw Lup and Juno Steel

Nope

~ write some shorts

One

FEBRUARY

~ write four things

~ read two books

~ cook two things

~ [REDACTED]

~ be more active on social media

~ practice drawing everyday

~ finish some painting projects

~ write two fics

[scriptwriters-network]

Creative Writing Challenge – Part 2 –   May

This MONTHLY challenge is for those who want to work on writing new ideas and who would like to maintain a continuous creativity flow with your writing.

Creatively writing short films are a great way to get started/or extend the passion in your career as a writer. A good short film can further help you develop your style and vision using story, drama, dialog, and imagery.

More here.

[madlovenovelist]

Is building a home library contra to being environmentally conscious?

DISCUSSION POST: Should we be moving to e-libraries to save the planet, or are there ways to keep our books made of recyclable material and environmental impact down? I always make a concerted effort in my life to re-use, recycle, and re-purpose to minimise my footprint on our environment. Even in product choice to limit the amount of forever chemicals that enter the household. But then I turn…

[luvdell20]

Ladybug Mecca

Catch a ladybug,

free it to the air

and be its master

as it whispers your

name in loving ears

To entice the lover with joy

like a rainbow of lightning

overflowing with bright colors

rushing over to sweet madness

While spots of changing seasons

could lead up to twenty-four wishes

of crazy love to be realized in eyes

that are clever toxic to all lucky kisses

And those spiritual attributes are visible

under the hibernating wings of winter

mating during the journey of yearly flights

knowing that spring is a bitter prelude to leave.

-Cordelia Hunter

[sicilyjoywrites]

Chuck

The cooler was heavy, and it was a long walk to the beach. But that was okay. It was a good sunny day. Laura liked to walk anyway, and she was finally feeling a burden lift from herself. Plus, the beach was a perfect place to take the cooler so she could suffer through the heaviness. And luckily there were rollers.  Still, it was awkward to drag along because of the weight of all the meat. Nice, freshly chopped meat. She was proud of herself for having done such as a good job at slicing it herself. Perfectly cut legs, breasts, feet and so on. She cut up every part herself. Her dad had been a farmer until they moved closer to the lake. He slaughtered chickens and showed her how. But this was a much bigger prize. A real challenge.

Chuck wouldn’t have believed that a little woman could do such a fine job with chopping meat.  Laura laughed. She could laugh at his little jabs now. She realized now that he was just overworked and tired.  All he wanted like everyone who got burned out was a release. Laura understood that now and could even relate.

She worked at a small publishing company that was now becoming a middle-sized publishing company. Chuck was mostly a good boss. And he was good looking. She would give him that. A type of guy that she wouldn’t have the minded taking home. But the rush and the thrill of a booming business had got to him. That’s why Laura was taking him to the lake. It was the perfect place to relax.

Chuck had told her many times before how much he loved the water, and he had told her too many times before about his boat. “ You should come out on my boat”.  “ We’ll get some good wine,” Chuck said. Not just to her, though. He invited the other girls at the company.  No interns, though. "Jailbait as Chuck had called them.

 Laura didn’t like wine. She was a beer drinker. "Shit, I should have brought beer”. That’s what she needed right now, she thought as the heat pounded on her.  "Who brings a cooler without beer?" She was so focused on getting everything right for Chuck that she had forgotten. Chuck would say she had a “ women’s brain”.  Maybe that was true. She was absent-minded. But, she had all she needed.  Besides, the cooler was packed and with all the meat it couldn’t fit anything else. Little lady, my ass, Laura thought as she arrived at the beach.  She sat the cooler down near the water’s edge. She sat right on the sand with not a worry about messing up her white and yellow sundress. Sundresses were meant to get sand on them. The stains adding to their carefree, breezy state. Laura was the kind of girl who didn’t care about stains.

She looked out on the wide great lake and watched the boats passing by. "Yes, this is perfect. Chuck will love this, he can rest here."

Chuck needed rest. His desires had taken him over and were draining him. Laura remembered his bright mind. The man that wanted to shake up the publishing world with an independent small press that published writers with radical thoughts. But his mind was taken over by his wants. He had to have everything in an arm's reach.  He had to touch it all. He had to touch her. First her arm, then shoulder, then all the hugs. He liked to hug about and for everything. Those arms always reaching for her. His hands and arms would poke, pinch and fondle her into mush.

The hands were the first to go.  Such strong determined hands yet so easily the right knife went through the skin and the bones. How could she have ever been afraid of those hands?  She opened the cooler. "Foolish little woman," she said as she threw the first bits of meat into the lake. Chuck could rest now.

[all-the-words-spoken]

walk with me

Here’s a preview of my ebook Walk with Me, which is free on Amazon!

https://www.amazon.com/dp/B081DH6PC6