Saturday, December 31, 2011
The Ogre's Den: The Ogre/Chuck Challenge, Day 31
The Ogre's Den: The Ogre/Chuck Challenge, Day 31: Hey, Readerland. Here we are at the end of the line. 31 days of blogs and new content every single day. I'd like to thank you right now f...
The Ogre/Chuck Challenge, Day 31
Hey, Readerland. Here we are at the end of the line. 31 days of blogs and new content every single day. I'd like to thank you right now for reading what I had to say and sticking with me through this whole thing. I appreciate it.
I'll be honest, Readerland. I don't even really want to do this entry. I think my work over the last week or so has been mostly subpar and I've been getting tired of doing this. I can't wait for about half an hour from now, when I'll be done. I love writing, but I think, in the end, this was a bad idea.
I submitted my story today, which almost caused me a panic attack. It was rough. But, it's out there now and all that's left is the waiting. I'm anxious and tired and I feel like I've been through the ringer.
So, I'm not doing it. It's my blog and I've decided I'm not doing my final exercise entry. Everybody needs a day off, right?
So, instead, I'm going to with everyone a Happy New Year and say thank you to everyone who helped me out: Carrie, Adam, Wynette, Brian and Mary. You guys are the greatest and I couldn't ask for better family and friends. Except if you guys were rich and wanted to give me lots of money. Then it would be better.
I'd also like to thank all of you for sticking with me through this and listening to my nightly ramblings. Hopefully you got some enjoyment out of something I wrote. If so, then great. A couple of the things I did gave me ideas for possible story ideas, so I think this was all worth it.
That's it. 31 days of blogging, but 30 days of writing. Meh. I'll take it. Until next time, take care and be awesome to each other.
#WWWYKI
I'll be honest, Readerland. I don't even really want to do this entry. I think my work over the last week or so has been mostly subpar and I've been getting tired of doing this. I can't wait for about half an hour from now, when I'll be done. I love writing, but I think, in the end, this was a bad idea.
I submitted my story today, which almost caused me a panic attack. It was rough. But, it's out there now and all that's left is the waiting. I'm anxious and tired and I feel like I've been through the ringer.
So, I'm not doing it. It's my blog and I've decided I'm not doing my final exercise entry. Everybody needs a day off, right?
So, instead, I'm going to with everyone a Happy New Year and say thank you to everyone who helped me out: Carrie, Adam, Wynette, Brian and Mary. You guys are the greatest and I couldn't ask for better family and friends. Except if you guys were rich and wanted to give me lots of money. Then it would be better.
I'd also like to thank all of you for sticking with me through this and listening to my nightly ramblings. Hopefully you got some enjoyment out of something I wrote. If so, then great. A couple of the things I did gave me ideas for possible story ideas, so I think this was all worth it.
That's it. 31 days of blogging, but 30 days of writing. Meh. I'll take it. Until next time, take care and be awesome to each other.
#WWWYKI
Friday, December 30, 2011
The Ogre's Den: The Ogre/Chuck Challenge, Day 30
The Ogre's Den: The Ogre/Chuck Challenge, Day 30: Hey, Readerland! The Ogre, back once again, this time for Day 30. I have to tell you, I'm a nervous wreck right now. Seriously. Being n...
The Ogre/Chuck Challenge, Day 30
Hey, Readerland! The Ogre, back once again, this time for Day 30. I have to tell you, I'm a nervous wreck right now. Seriously.
Being nervous isn't something that happens to me all that often. Maybe I'm just too awesome to realize when to be nervous or maybe I'm too dumb to care.
Anyway, before I totally freak out, let's get this road on the show! (Yes, I know that's backwards. Right now, I don't care.)
Today's exercise is back to the random word generator. Today I will be generating six words and they are:
parent
rehearsal
t-shirt
silence
spar
consonant
Let's get going.
The director called for silence. Everyone was nervous, as this was the last rehearsal before the show opened the following night.
"Okay, everybody." Marcus said. "I know everyone is keyed up, but we have to get through this last readthrough and then we'll be set for tomorrow night. I just want to go over a few things before we get started." He looked down at this notes. "Okay, let's start with Teresa and Erin. Girls, when you two are doing your fight scene, I want to see that sweat coming off of you, okay? You two are sparring with each other to see who wins Jeremiah's affections. Only the better woman will win. You understand?"
The girls nodded.
"Todd. When you're speaking, you need to pronounce every consonant clearly." Marcus found Todd in the ensemble. "When we were practicing last night, you have a tendency to go soft on some of your consonants. Every syllable has to be projected. Got it?"
"Yes, sir." Todd said.
"Good, good. Okay, one more note." Marcus said. "Mary. I know you're a little nervous about this, but that t-shirt has to rip off at the end, okay? I know it's a body thing and that you're not real comfortable with it, but that's one of the things the writer demanded."
Mary nodded unhappily. She smiled when Paul, her partner for that number, whispered something in her ear.
"Okay, good. Now, let's get to our places, everybody." Marcus clapped his hands. "Let's make each other proud."
Well, okay. Not great, but I blame it on being nervous myself.
So, for tomorrow, the last day of the exercise, I'm going to generate some random words AND I'll generate some random pictures and link them all together in one giant extravaganza of wordage!
So, that's it for today. Thanks for joining me and until tomorrow, take care and be awesome to each other.
#WWWYKI
Being nervous isn't something that happens to me all that often. Maybe I'm just too awesome to realize when to be nervous or maybe I'm too dumb to care.
Anyway, before I totally freak out, let's get this road on the show! (Yes, I know that's backwards. Right now, I don't care.)
Today's exercise is back to the random word generator. Today I will be generating six words and they are:
parent
rehearsal
t-shirt
silence
spar
consonant
Let's get going.
The director called for silence. Everyone was nervous, as this was the last rehearsal before the show opened the following night.
"Okay, everybody." Marcus said. "I know everyone is keyed up, but we have to get through this last readthrough and then we'll be set for tomorrow night. I just want to go over a few things before we get started." He looked down at this notes. "Okay, let's start with Teresa and Erin. Girls, when you two are doing your fight scene, I want to see that sweat coming off of you, okay? You two are sparring with each other to see who wins Jeremiah's affections. Only the better woman will win. You understand?"
The girls nodded.
"Todd. When you're speaking, you need to pronounce every consonant clearly." Marcus found Todd in the ensemble. "When we were practicing last night, you have a tendency to go soft on some of your consonants. Every syllable has to be projected. Got it?"
"Yes, sir." Todd said.
"Good, good. Okay, one more note." Marcus said. "Mary. I know you're a little nervous about this, but that t-shirt has to rip off at the end, okay? I know it's a body thing and that you're not real comfortable with it, but that's one of the things the writer demanded."
Mary nodded unhappily. She smiled when Paul, her partner for that number, whispered something in her ear.
"Okay, good. Now, let's get to our places, everybody." Marcus clapped his hands. "Let's make each other proud."
Well, okay. Not great, but I blame it on being nervous myself.
So, for tomorrow, the last day of the exercise, I'm going to generate some random words AND I'll generate some random pictures and link them all together in one giant extravaganza of wordage!
So, that's it for today. Thanks for joining me and until tomorrow, take care and be awesome to each other.
#WWWYKI
Thursday, December 29, 2011
The Ogre's Den: The Ogre/Chuck Challenge, Day 29
The Ogre's Den: The Ogre/Chuck Challenge, Day 29: Hey, Readerland! The Ogre is back for Day 29. The end is in sight. Three more days and we're all done. So, I have one more section to r...
The Ogre/Chuck Challenge, Day 29
Hey, Readerland! The Ogre is back for Day 29. The end is in sight. Three more days and we're all done.
So, I have one more section to rewrite and then I'm ready to submit. I could be sending my steampunk story in tonight, honestly. I'm not sure, though. The butterflies are warring with the chili I just ate.
Anyway, tonight's exercise is that I'm going to go to the Flickr Random Image Generator and picking three pictures and linking them together in the story. Let's get to the choosing. My images are:
http://www.flickr.com/photos/lonestardogranch/6597893977/
and
http://www.flickr.com/photos/joannfarris/6597831629/
and
http://www.flickr.com/photos/caddguy/6597838947/
Let's get started.
"Yes, he's dead." Officer Stanley said. "What do you think, Detective?"
"I think you need to get those two kids out of here, Frank." Detective Bronski said, pointing at the two children who had found the body. "Get them home and get statements from them and their parents."
"Yes, sir. Okay, kids. Let's get you home." Stanley said, leading the children away. The little girl, probably seven or eight, took the officer's hand with one of hers and dragged her sled away with the other.
"But how did you get here?" Bronski asked to no one.
The body was a white male, approximately twenty to twenty five years old. Brown hair and eyes. And wearing nothing but swimming trunks while lying in five or six inches of snow. Both legs and his left arm were sticking out at funny angles, probably broken. Blood around the mouth and some in the snow, probably from the impact. There were no footprints around the body, except for a few from the children.
The kids had been coming home after an afternoon of sledding at a hill about half a mile away. They hadn't come through this direction the first time. The girl said she had poked the body once on the side to see if the man moved and when he didn't, her brother called 911.
Bronski wasn't up on this kind of thing, but he knew of a couple of places where people went polar bearing this time of year and the kid was dressed for it. He'd have Stanley look into that.
"Hey, Detective." One of the Crime Scene guys said. "You finished?"
"Yeah," Bronski said. "Have the doc let me know when he has something."
"Will do."
The two investigators started examining the body as Bronski walked off toward the children's house.
---
The next day, after having read over the children' statements, Bronski went down to talk to Doc Hoff, the medical examiner.
"Whatcha got?" Bronski asked.
"Well, you victim wasn't a polar bear. Stanley told me you had him checking that out." Hoff consulted his notes. "He didn't have any of the usual signs of that kind of thing. What he did have was two broken legs complete with shattered knee and hip joints. His right arm is broken in four places, including a shattered elbow and dislocation of the shoulder."
"What about the left arm?" Bronski asked.
"His left arm is sawdust." Hoff said. "There are more places broken on his left arm than there is still intact bone."
"Jesus." Bronski said. "Any ideas?"
"Transverse fractures of the tibia, fibula and femer show that the legs hit the ground flat. Severe comminuted fractures of the radius, ulna and humerus, as well as broken bones in the wrist and hand indicate that he used that hand to try to stop himself, like you do when you lose your balance." Hoff looked down at the floor.
"Wait. He fell? And he was alive?" Brosnki looked like he was going to be sick. He took a second to gather his thoughts. "How high did he fall from?"
"Best guess, based on fractures and points of impact is about three hundred to three hundred fifty feet." Hoff said.
"Thanks, Doc." Bronski said. He walked out and headed back to the crime scene. There was more to find.
Back at the scene, Bronski stood in the field and looked up at the towering trees. He was no arborist, but none of the trees were three hundred feet tall and even at the top of the tallest, the branches wouldn't support the victim's weight.
"Where did you fall from, kid?"
"Detective?" A young voice said.
Bronski turned and saw the two children who found the body, along with a couple of others. "Hey, kids. Going sledding again?"
"No, we're here to watch the plane." The brother said.
Bronski asked. "What plane?"
"There's a red and white plane that flies by here almost every day." One of the friends said. "It goes from one of the big houses by the lake out to the quarry in the next county and back."
"Why do they go to the quarry?" Bronski asked. The kids all shrugged. "Okay, thanks, guys. You've been a big help."
Bronski drove out toward the lake, which was the "rich" neighborhood. All of the houses were starter mansions and there were some influential people that lived there. This could get ugly fast.
Finding the plane was the easy part. There were only two sea planes on the lake and only one was red and white. It belonged to Scott Abernathy, who made his money during the dot com boom and was smart enough to get out before the crash. He had invested well since then. His wife had died a few years ago from cancer and that left Scott and his son Shawn living in the big house themselves. Bronski walked up and knocked on the door. The door opened. There was a young man, early twenties, in the doorway.
"Yeah?"
"Shawn Abernathy?" Bronski asked, showing the young man his badge.
"Yeah. Can I help you, Officer?" He didn't seem defensive or anything. Bronski was skeptical.
"Yes. Did you happen to take your plane out yesterday?" Bronski asked. "Out to the quarry and back?"
"This about Billy, isn't it? I don't know where he is." Abernathy said.
"Billy?"
"Yeah. Billy Donaldson? His family lives a few houses that way. He wanted to go out to the quarry, but when we loaded into the plane, we couldn't find him." Abernathy looked worried.
"We?"
"There were four of us. We all live in the area. Billy wanted in." Abernathy opened the door and let Bronski in. "The four of us got into the plane. Billy was still outside, but when we went to shut the door, he was gone. We figured he chickened out."
"Was he wearing a pair of dark blue swim trunks?"
"Yeah."
"Two kids found him yesterday afternoon. He's dead, Shawn." Bronski braced for the emotions that were sure to come from the young man. "My best guess is that he was hanging onto the plane when you took off and he fell not too long after. I'm sorry for the loss of your friend. If you'll excuse me, I have to go inform his family."
There were days when Bronski hated his job.
Well, that was better than the last few. I liked it.
Anyway, that's going to do it for today. Tomorrow, I'm back to random words. Until tomorrow, take care and be awesome to each other.
#WWWYKI
So, I have one more section to rewrite and then I'm ready to submit. I could be sending my steampunk story in tonight, honestly. I'm not sure, though. The butterflies are warring with the chili I just ate.
Anyway, tonight's exercise is that I'm going to go to the Flickr Random Image Generator and picking three pictures and linking them together in the story. Let's get to the choosing. My images are:
http://www.flickr.com/photos/lonestardogranch/6597893977/
and
http://www.flickr.com/photos/joannfarris/6597831629/
and
http://www.flickr.com/photos/caddguy/6597838947/
Let's get started.
"Yes, he's dead." Officer Stanley said. "What do you think, Detective?"
"I think you need to get those two kids out of here, Frank." Detective Bronski said, pointing at the two children who had found the body. "Get them home and get statements from them and their parents."
"Yes, sir. Okay, kids. Let's get you home." Stanley said, leading the children away. The little girl, probably seven or eight, took the officer's hand with one of hers and dragged her sled away with the other.
"But how did you get here?" Bronski asked to no one.
The body was a white male, approximately twenty to twenty five years old. Brown hair and eyes. And wearing nothing but swimming trunks while lying in five or six inches of snow. Both legs and his left arm were sticking out at funny angles, probably broken. Blood around the mouth and some in the snow, probably from the impact. There were no footprints around the body, except for a few from the children.
The kids had been coming home after an afternoon of sledding at a hill about half a mile away. They hadn't come through this direction the first time. The girl said she had poked the body once on the side to see if the man moved and when he didn't, her brother called 911.
Bronski wasn't up on this kind of thing, but he knew of a couple of places where people went polar bearing this time of year and the kid was dressed for it. He'd have Stanley look into that.
"Hey, Detective." One of the Crime Scene guys said. "You finished?"
"Yeah," Bronski said. "Have the doc let me know when he has something."
"Will do."
The two investigators started examining the body as Bronski walked off toward the children's house.
---
The next day, after having read over the children' statements, Bronski went down to talk to Doc Hoff, the medical examiner.
"Whatcha got?" Bronski asked.
"Well, you victim wasn't a polar bear. Stanley told me you had him checking that out." Hoff consulted his notes. "He didn't have any of the usual signs of that kind of thing. What he did have was two broken legs complete with shattered knee and hip joints. His right arm is broken in four places, including a shattered elbow and dislocation of the shoulder."
"What about the left arm?" Bronski asked.
"His left arm is sawdust." Hoff said. "There are more places broken on his left arm than there is still intact bone."
"Jesus." Bronski said. "Any ideas?"
"Transverse fractures of the tibia, fibula and femer show that the legs hit the ground flat. Severe comminuted fractures of the radius, ulna and humerus, as well as broken bones in the wrist and hand indicate that he used that hand to try to stop himself, like you do when you lose your balance." Hoff looked down at the floor.
"Wait. He fell? And he was alive?" Brosnki looked like he was going to be sick. He took a second to gather his thoughts. "How high did he fall from?"
"Best guess, based on fractures and points of impact is about three hundred to three hundred fifty feet." Hoff said.
"Thanks, Doc." Bronski said. He walked out and headed back to the crime scene. There was more to find.
Back at the scene, Bronski stood in the field and looked up at the towering trees. He was no arborist, but none of the trees were three hundred feet tall and even at the top of the tallest, the branches wouldn't support the victim's weight.
"Where did you fall from, kid?"
"Detective?" A young voice said.
Bronski turned and saw the two children who found the body, along with a couple of others. "Hey, kids. Going sledding again?"
"No, we're here to watch the plane." The brother said.
Bronski asked. "What plane?"
"There's a red and white plane that flies by here almost every day." One of the friends said. "It goes from one of the big houses by the lake out to the quarry in the next county and back."
"Why do they go to the quarry?" Bronski asked. The kids all shrugged. "Okay, thanks, guys. You've been a big help."
Bronski drove out toward the lake, which was the "rich" neighborhood. All of the houses were starter mansions and there were some influential people that lived there. This could get ugly fast.
Finding the plane was the easy part. There were only two sea planes on the lake and only one was red and white. It belonged to Scott Abernathy, who made his money during the dot com boom and was smart enough to get out before the crash. He had invested well since then. His wife had died a few years ago from cancer and that left Scott and his son Shawn living in the big house themselves. Bronski walked up and knocked on the door. The door opened. There was a young man, early twenties, in the doorway.
"Yeah?"
"Shawn Abernathy?" Bronski asked, showing the young man his badge.
"Yeah. Can I help you, Officer?" He didn't seem defensive or anything. Bronski was skeptical.
"Yes. Did you happen to take your plane out yesterday?" Bronski asked. "Out to the quarry and back?"
"This about Billy, isn't it? I don't know where he is." Abernathy said.
"Billy?"
"Yeah. Billy Donaldson? His family lives a few houses that way. He wanted to go out to the quarry, but when we loaded into the plane, we couldn't find him." Abernathy looked worried.
"We?"
"There were four of us. We all live in the area. Billy wanted in." Abernathy opened the door and let Bronski in. "The four of us got into the plane. Billy was still outside, but when we went to shut the door, he was gone. We figured he chickened out."
"Was he wearing a pair of dark blue swim trunks?"
"Yeah."
"Two kids found him yesterday afternoon. He's dead, Shawn." Bronski braced for the emotions that were sure to come from the young man. "My best guess is that he was hanging onto the plane when you took off and he fell not too long after. I'm sorry for the loss of your friend. If you'll excuse me, I have to go inform his family."
There were days when Bronski hated his job.
Well, that was better than the last few. I liked it.
Anyway, that's going to do it for today. Tomorrow, I'm back to random words. Until tomorrow, take care and be awesome to each other.
#WWWYKI
Wednesday, December 28, 2011
The Ogre's Den: The Ogre/Chuck Challenge, Day 28
The Ogre's Den: The Ogre/Chuck Challenge, Day 28: Hey, Readerland! The Ogre is back and ready for Day 28. Two sections left to rewrite and then I'm ready to submit my story. I'm getting ...
The Ogre/Chuck Challenge, Day 28
Hey, Readerland! The Ogre is back and ready for Day 28.
Two sections left to rewrite and then I'm ready to submit my story. I'm getting excited.
Anyway, let's get on with the shananiganery. Today's exercise is:
20. Pick five random words from a random word generator (like, say, this one) and incorporate
all of them into your writing exercise.
The twist is that I'm going to have it pick a larger amount of words (to be determined tomorrow) and use those to write the story.
Okay, so I had my lovely assistant pick a number of seven, so I generated seven words for today's story. My seven words are:
bandit
chip
TV
stinger
skin
steering wheel
front
"There's a chip in my windshield," Scott said. He pointed at a small crack. "That is all your fault."
"Wait," Mike said. "You hit me from the front, send me into the median and the chip in your windshield is my fault? How to you figure that? And what about the passenger side of my car? You hit it when you pulled out!"
"If you had signaled that you were changing lanes, we wouldn't have hit each other and I wouldn't have a crack in my windshield," Scott said.
"Hold on a second," Mike said. "You pulled out onto the road without looking to see if anyone was there. Me signalling wouldn't have changed anything."
"And I think the steering wheel hit me in the chest," Scott said. "I bet I'll have bruises and contusions and maybe a cracked rib or two. I'll have to go to the hospital."
"Oh, wait," Mike said condescendingly. "Let's wait around and see if any camera crews show up so you can be on TV. Would that make things better? Or maybe you should call your lawyer so you can try to sue me and make out like a bandit. Lord knows you'd probably like to kiss Burt Reynolds." He shook his head.
Scott could feel his skin getting hot, but he refused to rise to the bait. "I just hope that neither of us is seriously hurt. I don't want this to turn into some long, drawn out legal battle, simply to decide who was in the wrong here."
"In the wrong? That would be you, jackass." Mike said. "You pulled out in front of me. You weren't looking at the road, you were looking at your phone. You are at fault, so just admit it."
"Excuse me, gentlemen," a police officer said. "Everybody okay?"
Scott grabbed his neck. "Officer, it was horrible! He pulled out in front of me and I got whiplash! And maybe a stinger! Oh, my neck hurts so much."
"Really?" the cop asked. "It didn't seem so bad when I pulled up five minutes ago and you were leaning over your car and pointing. Save it, sir."
Okay, not bad. Better than last night, anyway. So, tomorrow, I'm going to go back to the random image generator and pick out three pictures and then link them together. Should be fun.
That's going to do it for today and I will see you all tomorrow. Until then, take care and be awesome to each other.
#WWWYKI
Two sections left to rewrite and then I'm ready to submit my story. I'm getting excited.
Anyway, let's get on with the shananiganery. Today's exercise is:
20. Pick five random words from a random word generator (like, say, this one) and incorporate
all of them into your writing exercise.
The twist is that I'm going to have it pick a larger amount of words (to be determined tomorrow) and use those to write the story.
Okay, so I had my lovely assistant pick a number of seven, so I generated seven words for today's story. My seven words are:
bandit
chip
TV
stinger
skin
steering wheel
front
"There's a chip in my windshield," Scott said. He pointed at a small crack. "That is all your fault."
"Wait," Mike said. "You hit me from the front, send me into the median and the chip in your windshield is my fault? How to you figure that? And what about the passenger side of my car? You hit it when you pulled out!"
"If you had signaled that you were changing lanes, we wouldn't have hit each other and I wouldn't have a crack in my windshield," Scott said.
"Hold on a second," Mike said. "You pulled out onto the road without looking to see if anyone was there. Me signalling wouldn't have changed anything."
"And I think the steering wheel hit me in the chest," Scott said. "I bet I'll have bruises and contusions and maybe a cracked rib or two. I'll have to go to the hospital."
"Oh, wait," Mike said condescendingly. "Let's wait around and see if any camera crews show up so you can be on TV. Would that make things better? Or maybe you should call your lawyer so you can try to sue me and make out like a bandit. Lord knows you'd probably like to kiss Burt Reynolds." He shook his head.
Scott could feel his skin getting hot, but he refused to rise to the bait. "I just hope that neither of us is seriously hurt. I don't want this to turn into some long, drawn out legal battle, simply to decide who was in the wrong here."
"In the wrong? That would be you, jackass." Mike said. "You pulled out in front of me. You weren't looking at the road, you were looking at your phone. You are at fault, so just admit it."
"Excuse me, gentlemen," a police officer said. "Everybody okay?"
Scott grabbed his neck. "Officer, it was horrible! He pulled out in front of me and I got whiplash! And maybe a stinger! Oh, my neck hurts so much."
"Really?" the cop asked. "It didn't seem so bad when I pulled up five minutes ago and you were leaning over your car and pointing. Save it, sir."
Okay, not bad. Better than last night, anyway. So, tomorrow, I'm going to go back to the random image generator and pick out three pictures and then link them together. Should be fun.
That's going to do it for today and I will see you all tomorrow. Until then, take care and be awesome to each other.
#WWWYKI
Tuesday, December 27, 2011
The Ogre's Den: The Ogre/Chuck Challenge, Day 27
The Ogre's Den: The Ogre/Chuck Challenge, Day 27: Hey, Readerland! The Ogre is back and ready to get started on Day 27. Done with this round of edits and rewrites. It's really frustrati...
The Ogre/Chuck Challenge, Day 27
Hey, Readerland! The Ogre is back and ready to get started on Day 27.
Done with this round of edits and rewrites. It's really frustrating to have different people telling you that different ways to do the same thing is correct. It's annoying.
Anyway, let's get on with it! Today's exercise is:
16. Find a random picture on Flickr. Then write about it. (Click here for a random Flickr image
generator.)
But I'm throwing in a twist: I'm going to pick two pictures and link them together in the story. Hopefully. My pictures are:
http://www.flickr.com/photos/sarieh/6585288535/
and
http://www.flickr.com/photos/7419847@N05/6585314965/
Here goes nothin...
"Your mother what?" Cynthia asked.
"She's going to make us something for the wedding," Toby said. "She has tons and tons of yarn at home, so it'll probably be an afghan or a rug or something."
"That's cool, I suppose," Cynthia said. "I mean, if that's what she wants to do, I guess."
"Look, Cyn. Ever since dad died, mom has really taken to knitting," Toby said. "It will mean a lot to her, so don't give her a hard time about it. I'm just happy she's coming to the wedding."
"Baby, no. I'm not going to give her a hard time," Cynthia said. "It's just that most people simply buy gifts instead of making them. I'm happy she's found something that she enjoys. I know losing your father meant a lot to you, but I can't imagine what it did to her."
"Thanks, baby," Toby said, kissing Cynthia's cheek. "I was hoping you'd understand. How long?"
"Two weeks," Cynthia said. "Two weeks until we get married and then spend a week in Ireland. I can't wait."
"Me neither," Toby said. "You know what else I can't wait for?"
Cynthia smirked. "What's that?"
"I can't wait to take you to bed as my wife and give you..." Toby got up and ran over to his laptop and hit the Play button. 'Good Lovin' by The Young Rascals came on and he started dancing around the room, lip synching to the song.
Cynthia laughed as Toby bounced around the room and shook his butt at her in time to the music. When the song was over, he came back and sat down beside her. "You're a nut," she said.
"Yeah, I know. But that's why you love me," Toby said, trying to catch his breath.
"True," Cynthia said and kissed him.
Okay, not bad. I just wasn't feeling it tonight, honestly. Sorry for the letdown.
Anyway, what about tomorrow? Okay, so I'm going to do the random word generator tomorrow, which is here:
20. Pick five random words from a random word generator (like, say, this one) and incorporate
all of them into your writing exercise.
The twist is that I'm going to have it pick a larger amount of words (to be determined tomorrow) and use those to write the story.
Anyway, that's going to do it for today. 27 days down, four more to go. Thanks for joining me and I'll see you all tomorrow. Until then, take care and be awesome to each other.
#WWWYKI
Done with this round of edits and rewrites. It's really frustrating to have different people telling you that different ways to do the same thing is correct. It's annoying.
Anyway, let's get on with it! Today's exercise is:
16. Find a random picture on Flickr. Then write about it. (Click here for a random Flickr image
generator.)
But I'm throwing in a twist: I'm going to pick two pictures and link them together in the story. Hopefully. My pictures are:
http://www.flickr.com/photos/sarieh/6585288535/
and
http://www.flickr.com/photos/7419847@N05/6585314965/
Here goes nothin...
"Your mother what?" Cynthia asked.
"She's going to make us something for the wedding," Toby said. "She has tons and tons of yarn at home, so it'll probably be an afghan or a rug or something."
"That's cool, I suppose," Cynthia said. "I mean, if that's what she wants to do, I guess."
"Look, Cyn. Ever since dad died, mom has really taken to knitting," Toby said. "It will mean a lot to her, so don't give her a hard time about it. I'm just happy she's coming to the wedding."
"Baby, no. I'm not going to give her a hard time," Cynthia said. "It's just that most people simply buy gifts instead of making them. I'm happy she's found something that she enjoys. I know losing your father meant a lot to you, but I can't imagine what it did to her."
"Thanks, baby," Toby said, kissing Cynthia's cheek. "I was hoping you'd understand. How long?"
"Two weeks," Cynthia said. "Two weeks until we get married and then spend a week in Ireland. I can't wait."
"Me neither," Toby said. "You know what else I can't wait for?"
Cynthia smirked. "What's that?"
"I can't wait to take you to bed as my wife and give you..." Toby got up and ran over to his laptop and hit the Play button. 'Good Lovin' by The Young Rascals came on and he started dancing around the room, lip synching to the song.
Cynthia laughed as Toby bounced around the room and shook his butt at her in time to the music. When the song was over, he came back and sat down beside her. "You're a nut," she said.
"Yeah, I know. But that's why you love me," Toby said, trying to catch his breath.
"True," Cynthia said and kissed him.
Okay, not bad. I just wasn't feeling it tonight, honestly. Sorry for the letdown.
Anyway, what about tomorrow? Okay, so I'm going to do the random word generator tomorrow, which is here:
20. Pick five random words from a random word generator (like, say, this one) and incorporate
all of them into your writing exercise.
The twist is that I'm going to have it pick a larger amount of words (to be determined tomorrow) and use those to write the story.
Anyway, that's going to do it for today. 27 days down, four more to go. Thanks for joining me and I'll see you all tomorrow. Until then, take care and be awesome to each other.
#WWWYKI
Monday, December 26, 2011
The Ogre's Den: The Ogre/Chuck Challenge, Day 26
The Ogre's Den: The Ogre/Chuck Challenge, Day 26: Hey, Readerland! The Ogre is back for Day 26! I hope you all had a Merry Christmas or Happy Hanukkah or whatever celebration you usually h...
The Ogre/Chuck Challenge, Day 26
Hey, Readerland! The Ogre is back for Day 26! I hope you all had a Merry Christmas or Happy Hanukkah or whatever celebration you usually have, if you have one. If not, I hope you've had a good couple of days and may a long weekend.
So, pretty brutal final edits. Yeah, these will be rough. I'm going to have to redo parts based on style instead of substance. Hopefully it won't take too long.
Anyway, let's get on with the show! Today's exercise is:
20. Pick five random words from a random word generator (like, say, this one) and incorporate
all of them into your writing exercise.
My five words are:
Iron
Hammer
Galvanize
Smile
Shadow
Okay, so let's get started.
There was the repetitive sound of hammer on iron as Garet the Smith forged the weapon he knew would be needed. He bent the metal around in a half-moon shape before plunging it into the water, causing steam to rise.
Back on the fire, more steam rose and the hammer when to work again. After several times into and out of the water did the weapon finally take a shape that Garet liked. He formed the blade of the sickle, ending it in a point that could punch through almost anything. With a blade made of iron, it was heavy and strong.
Garet took a moment's break from hammering and could barely make out a figure in the shadows across the room from the fire.
"I know you'd come." Garet said. "I've not finished yet, but soon."
"Thank you, dear friend." Mechalius said. "I would urge you to work faster if I thought that speed was the problem."
"Indeed." Garet said. "I would work faster if it wouldn't hamper the quality of the blade. You will need that quality when you face the Shadow Knights. When I heard they were coming, I knew that would galvanize you into action." He returned to pounding and shaping the blade.
Mechalius smiled. "You know me well. When this weapon is done, I shall ride out and face the Shadow Knights alone and in spite of the odds, I shall be victorious."
"That is what the legends say. But what if they're wrong?" Garet asked between clangs.
"Then I shall die fighting for my people." Mechalius answered. "The way a king should die, not resting on the throne and collecting dust. And if I die, Corvis shall rule until an heir is found."
Garet turned to the handle of the weapon, mounting two pieces of wood and sanding them until they fit comfortably in Mechalius' hand. He wrapped the two pieces in a long leather strap and hefted it. Solid. Heavy. Dangerous.
"You should sharpen it to your liking, my King." Garet said. "The wheel is over there."
Mechalius nodded and approached the great stone wheel. He lay the blade upon it and pushed down on the pedal, starting the wheel in motion. The blade caught and then he remembered the correct angle and the sparks began to fly. Soon, the had a slightly bloody thumb, but also had the edge he wanted.
"Thank you again, Garet." Mechalius said, gripping his friend's hand. "If I don't see you agian..."
"Stop." Garet said. "The prophecies are right. You will defeat the Shadow Knights and return to claim your throne. God speed, my King."
Mechalius nodded and walked off into the night.
Not bad, not bad. Probably pretty easy to see coming. This might have some potential, though. Especially the Shadow Knights.
So, that's going to do it for today. So, since I'm not out of un-done exercises, I'm going to use the two 'random' exercises for the last for days. I'll change things up each day to make them more interesting, though. So, tomorrow, I'm doing:
16. Find a random picture on Flickr. Then write about it. (Click here for a random Flickr image
generator.)
The twist is that I'll pick two images and link them together somehow in the story. That'll be fun.
So, thanks for joining me and I will see you all tomorrow. Until then, take care and be awesome to each other.
#WWWYKI
So, pretty brutal final edits. Yeah, these will be rough. I'm going to have to redo parts based on style instead of substance. Hopefully it won't take too long.
Anyway, let's get on with the show! Today's exercise is:
20. Pick five random words from a random word generator (like, say, this one) and incorporate
all of them into your writing exercise.
My five words are:
Iron
Hammer
Galvanize
Smile
Shadow
Okay, so let's get started.
There was the repetitive sound of hammer on iron as Garet the Smith forged the weapon he knew would be needed. He bent the metal around in a half-moon shape before plunging it into the water, causing steam to rise.
Back on the fire, more steam rose and the hammer when to work again. After several times into and out of the water did the weapon finally take a shape that Garet liked. He formed the blade of the sickle, ending it in a point that could punch through almost anything. With a blade made of iron, it was heavy and strong.
Garet took a moment's break from hammering and could barely make out a figure in the shadows across the room from the fire.
"I know you'd come." Garet said. "I've not finished yet, but soon."
"Thank you, dear friend." Mechalius said. "I would urge you to work faster if I thought that speed was the problem."
"Indeed." Garet said. "I would work faster if it wouldn't hamper the quality of the blade. You will need that quality when you face the Shadow Knights. When I heard they were coming, I knew that would galvanize you into action." He returned to pounding and shaping the blade.
Mechalius smiled. "You know me well. When this weapon is done, I shall ride out and face the Shadow Knights alone and in spite of the odds, I shall be victorious."
"That is what the legends say. But what if they're wrong?" Garet asked between clangs.
"Then I shall die fighting for my people." Mechalius answered. "The way a king should die, not resting on the throne and collecting dust. And if I die, Corvis shall rule until an heir is found."
Garet turned to the handle of the weapon, mounting two pieces of wood and sanding them until they fit comfortably in Mechalius' hand. He wrapped the two pieces in a long leather strap and hefted it. Solid. Heavy. Dangerous.
"You should sharpen it to your liking, my King." Garet said. "The wheel is over there."
Mechalius nodded and approached the great stone wheel. He lay the blade upon it and pushed down on the pedal, starting the wheel in motion. The blade caught and then he remembered the correct angle and the sparks began to fly. Soon, the had a slightly bloody thumb, but also had the edge he wanted.
"Thank you again, Garet." Mechalius said, gripping his friend's hand. "If I don't see you agian..."
"Stop." Garet said. "The prophecies are right. You will defeat the Shadow Knights and return to claim your throne. God speed, my King."
Mechalius nodded and walked off into the night.
Not bad, not bad. Probably pretty easy to see coming. This might have some potential, though. Especially the Shadow Knights.
So, that's going to do it for today. So, since I'm not out of un-done exercises, I'm going to use the two 'random' exercises for the last for days. I'll change things up each day to make them more interesting, though. So, tomorrow, I'm doing:
16. Find a random picture on Flickr. Then write about it. (Click here for a random Flickr image
generator.)
The twist is that I'll pick two images and link them together somehow in the story. That'll be fun.
So, thanks for joining me and I will see you all tomorrow. Until then, take care and be awesome to each other.
#WWWYKI
Sunday, December 25, 2011
The Ogre's Den: The Ogre/Chuck Challenge, Day 25
The Ogre's Den: The Ogre/Chuck Challenge, Day 25: Hey, Readerland! The Ogre is back for Day 25 and I'm hoping you had a Merry Christmas. More edits and rewrites to do, but I'll handle tho...
The Ogre/Chuck Challenge, Day 25
Hey, Readerland! The Ogre is back for Day 25 and I'm hoping you had a Merry Christmas.
More edits and rewrites to do, but I'll handle those tomorrow. One day closer to submission.
Anyway, let's get going on today's entry, starting with the exercise:
17. Get into the head of someone with whom you violently disagree -- whether it's an old ex or
someone on the opposite side of the political fence. Write from their perspective and, drum roll
please, try to make them sympathetic. Then, if it makes you feel better, have them get hit by a
train or violated by an angry golem.
"Abortion may go down in history as the greatest human rights abuse of all time." Mrs. Mynott said. "That there are mothers out there who would purposefully kill their children is an abomination."
"But what about the rights of the mother?" Jane Segal, talk-show host, asked. "Do they not have rights as well?"
"They do." Mrs. Mynott said. "But every human being has rights and because a fetus is a human being, then it is up to the mother to make sure that the baby's rights are preserved."
"Mrs. Mynott," Segal asked. "Is a fetus really a human being? For a while, it's just a lump of cells in the uterus."
Mrs. Mynott laughed. "Aren't we all just lumps of cells? That doesn't separate us from a fetus. At just twenty-one days after conception, a fetus has its own heart beat. At forty days, brain waves can be detected by an EEG. Don't those things make a fetus a human being?"
"But what about that time before the heart beats and brain waves start?" Segal asked. "Does a fetus without a separate heart beat or brain waves a person? Some people would say that until a certain point, the fetus isn't technically alive."
"They are wrong." Mrs. Mynott said. "Do you have children, Miss Segal?"
"No, I do not." Segal said.
"When a woman is pregnant, she knows." Mrs. Mynott said. "She knows that there is life inside her, not just a bunch of reproducing cells. She knows that there is a person inside of her that she needs to protect and nurture. She also knows that abortion is murder."
"But what about people who have accidents, like broken condoms?" Segal asked. "Or women who become pregnant by rape? Don't they have the right to protect themselves?"
"If they're worried about broken condoms," Mrs. Mynott said. "Then maybe they shouldn't be having sex in the first place. As for rape victims, well, adoption is always a possibility. Look, the main concern here is the health and well-being of your child. That should be the first priority of any mother, even those of children that were 'accidents' or unwanted. Murdering them does not count as looking after your children."
"Thank you for your time, Mrs. Mynott." Segal said. "Any final words?"
"Children are our future and they deserve all the love and care we can give them." Mrs. Mynott smiled at the camera. "It is only through them that we leave a piece of ourselves when we go."
Well, not my greatest work. See, I don't 'violently disagree' with someone for being anti-abortion, it's their approach that I might 'violently disagree' with. I tried to make her sympathetic, but I think the whole thing came off kind of bland. You'll have to let me know how I did.
So, what's up for tomorrow? Let's see:
20. Pick five random words from a random word generator (like, say, this one) and incorporate
all of them into your writing exercise.
Okay, so another repeat. Not a surprise at this point, but I enjoy these random exercises. They are lots of fun.
Anyway, that's going to do it for today. Thanks for joining me and I will see you tomorrow. Until then, Merry Christmas, take care and be awesome to each other.
#WWWYKI
More edits and rewrites to do, but I'll handle those tomorrow. One day closer to submission.
Anyway, let's get going on today's entry, starting with the exercise:
17. Get into the head of someone with whom you violently disagree -- whether it's an old ex or
someone on the opposite side of the political fence. Write from their perspective and, drum roll
please, try to make them sympathetic. Then, if it makes you feel better, have them get hit by a
train or violated by an angry golem.
"Abortion may go down in history as the greatest human rights abuse of all time." Mrs. Mynott said. "That there are mothers out there who would purposefully kill their children is an abomination."
"But what about the rights of the mother?" Jane Segal, talk-show host, asked. "Do they not have rights as well?"
"They do." Mrs. Mynott said. "But every human being has rights and because a fetus is a human being, then it is up to the mother to make sure that the baby's rights are preserved."
"Mrs. Mynott," Segal asked. "Is a fetus really a human being? For a while, it's just a lump of cells in the uterus."
Mrs. Mynott laughed. "Aren't we all just lumps of cells? That doesn't separate us from a fetus. At just twenty-one days after conception, a fetus has its own heart beat. At forty days, brain waves can be detected by an EEG. Don't those things make a fetus a human being?"
"But what about that time before the heart beats and brain waves start?" Segal asked. "Does a fetus without a separate heart beat or brain waves a person? Some people would say that until a certain point, the fetus isn't technically alive."
"They are wrong." Mrs. Mynott said. "Do you have children, Miss Segal?"
"No, I do not." Segal said.
"When a woman is pregnant, she knows." Mrs. Mynott said. "She knows that there is life inside her, not just a bunch of reproducing cells. She knows that there is a person inside of her that she needs to protect and nurture. She also knows that abortion is murder."
"But what about people who have accidents, like broken condoms?" Segal asked. "Or women who become pregnant by rape? Don't they have the right to protect themselves?"
"If they're worried about broken condoms," Mrs. Mynott said. "Then maybe they shouldn't be having sex in the first place. As for rape victims, well, adoption is always a possibility. Look, the main concern here is the health and well-being of your child. That should be the first priority of any mother, even those of children that were 'accidents' or unwanted. Murdering them does not count as looking after your children."
"Thank you for your time, Mrs. Mynott." Segal said. "Any final words?"
"Children are our future and they deserve all the love and care we can give them." Mrs. Mynott smiled at the camera. "It is only through them that we leave a piece of ourselves when we go."
Well, not my greatest work. See, I don't 'violently disagree' with someone for being anti-abortion, it's their approach that I might 'violently disagree' with. I tried to make her sympathetic, but I think the whole thing came off kind of bland. You'll have to let me know how I did.
So, what's up for tomorrow? Let's see:
20. Pick five random words from a random word generator (like, say, this one) and incorporate
all of them into your writing exercise.
Okay, so another repeat. Not a surprise at this point, but I enjoy these random exercises. They are lots of fun.
Anyway, that's going to do it for today. Thanks for joining me and I will see you tomorrow. Until then, Merry Christmas, take care and be awesome to each other.
#WWWYKI
Saturday, December 24, 2011
The Ogre's Den: The Ogre/Chuck Challenge, Day 24
The Ogre's Den: The Ogre/Chuck Challenge, Day 24: Hey, Readerland! The Ogre is back with another entry, today being Day 24! It's also Christmas Eve. What a co-ink-ee-dink! Well, the sto...
The Ogre/Chuck Challenge, Day 24
Hey, Readerland! The Ogre is back with another entry, today being Day 24! It's also Christmas Eve. What a co-ink-ee-dink!
Well, the story is almost completely done. I've done what I think are my last edits, but I'm having it read over one more time tomorrow and then, voila. Done. If things go well, it'll be in the publisher's inbox by Monday morning. Which would be awesome.
Anyway, time to get onto today's challenge, which is:
7. Step into the shoes of a character you despise with the sole exercise of making him readable
and compelling -- but without losing his loathsome qualities.
Hm. First, I need to find a character I despise.
Okay, I know this wouldn't really happen, but I liked the idea.
"Hello." Kyle said. "I would like to volunteer for the search for the missing child, Bradley."
"Hold on just a second." Sheriff McClintock said. "You're Kyle Bannon. You're a registered sex offender who, if I'm not mistaken, is a pedophile. No way we're letting you on this search."
"Then you're making a mistake, Sheriff." Bannon said. "She's been missing for about eighteen hours and you have no clues. I can find her, Sheriff. I know how they think."
"You mean how you think, don't you, Bannon?" McClintock asked.
"You're running out of time, Sheriff." Bannon said.
"Fine. You're coming to help us, but you will be guarded at all times and in handcuffs." McClintock said. "Officer Jepsen here will be your new best friend. Do I make myself perfectly clear?"
"Absolutely, Sheriff. I'll be on my best behavior." Bannon smiled.
"I will shoot you if I think you're even looking at a child wrong, Bannon." McClintock said. After a moment of tension, he asked, "Okay. What do we do first?"
"Take me to the crime scene." Bannon said. "I'll be able to figure out how he did it."
They loaded into a police car, Bannon in the back with Jepsen, and McClintock and Officer Seavers in the front. They drove to the house where Bradley was taken. McClintock opened the door for Jepsen and then opened Bannon's door.
"Nice neighborhood." Bannon said. "Which house is Bradley's?"
"That one." Jepsen said, pointing at a blue single-story house.
Bannon began looking around. He squinted off into the distance in both directions. "Officer Jepsen, please walk with me. Sheriff, if you don't mind, please stand on the sidewalk, right about here. I'll be back in a jiffy," he said with a smile.
Without waiting, Bannon started walking off to the south of the house, following the curve of the street. He stopped and turned back to face the sheriff, Jepsen catching up to him. He tilted his head a little and walked further away. Soon, he was out of sight of McClintock.
"What is he doing?" McClintock asked.
"I think he's trying to scope out the house." Seavers said, brushing her hair out of her eyes.
McClintock's radio burst to life.
"Sheriff." Jepsen said. "Bannon thinks that this spot here is where the perp would have staked out the house. We can see you and Maggie, but you can't see us. It's because of the rise at the Hatfield place. We can see by it."
McClintock squinted and looked at the Hatfield house, with it uneven front yard. Just beyond the point where the lawn jutted up, he could barely make out Jepsen's hat.
"I'll be." McClintock said. "Great, Arnie." He said into the radio. "But where do we go from here?"
"Bannon says he needs to look at Bradley's bedroom." Jepsen said hesitantly.
Instead of letting a pedophile into a grieving mother's house, the cops let Bannon look at phots they had taken of Bradley's room, including the bed, the walls, toys and the dresser.
"So, Bradley's a fan of baseball, I see." Bannon said. "That's how this man would have gained his trust."
"How so?" Jepsen asked.
"Asking about scores or the way to the nearest baseball diamond. He may have asked where to buy a paper so he could check the box scores." Bannon said. "Was Bradley a baseball player?"
"Yes." McClintock said.
"He may have watched Bradley play." Bannon said. "That may be how he selected Bradley in the first place. It wouldn't have been hard to find out where he lived."
"That's great and all," McClintock said. "But we need to know where he was taken. Not why."
"Actually, you do need to know why." Bannon said. "If he was taken for ransom, the boy would be in a different place than if he were being tortured or loved."
"Loved? Is that what you call it?" McClintock asked, grabbing Bannon's shirt.
Seaver and Jepsen grabbed the sheriff to get him to let go of Bannon.
"Regardless of my methods," Bannon said. "I love children. All children. Some just more than others." He made sure to keep the smile off of his face. "Anyway, the man would have grabbed Bradley and drove off that direction." Bannon said, pointing north.
"Why north?" Seavers asked.
"He came from that direction, because you want to be as close to the house as possible." Bannon stated matter-of-factly. "That was they feel safer. They're easier pickings that way." Again, no smile. "He drove north, because he came from the south. That's the only direction to observe the house without being seen. When you're trying to avoid the police, you tend to drive toward where you want to go."
The three police officers could only look at each other and shake their heads.
"What's north of here?" Jepsen asked. "There's hardly any neighborhood after about half a mile."
"Jesse's is up there." Seaver said, naming the town bar. "Probably not there, though."
"Let's see." McClintock said. "Just north of town, there's the Appleton and Jacobs' farms."
"The old MacNamara place is out there." Jepsen said. "Nobody's been there for years."
"Let's go check it out." McClintock said.
They all piled into the car and Seavers drove fast. They decided not to turn the lights or siren on so they would have the element of surprise. Seavers pulled the car into the gravel drive of the MacNamara farm and stopped.
"Okay, listen up." McClintock said. "Maggie and I will check out the house. Arnie, you go check out the barn."
"What about me?" Bannon asked.
"You stay right here." McClintock said.
"Sheriff, please." Bannon said. "I can hardly be trouble with these on," he said, rattling his handcuffs. "and with Officer Jepsen along. Besides, I don't think you'll find anything in the house."
"Why's that?" McClintock asked.
"If the boy starts to scream, you want somewhere further from the road, Sheriff." Bannon said. "Children can scream quite loudly, despite their small size." This time, Bannon allowed himself a small smirk. "Unless there's a basement or something," he said. "The boy will be in the barn."
McClintock looked like he was going to climb into the backseat and strangle Bannon. It took a moment of deep breaths to remember that they were here for Bradley.
"Fine." McClintock said after a moment. "We'll all go check out the barn together."
They made their way to the barn, finding the doors to be in poor shape. Jepsen was able to move one until there was space enough for them to get in.
"What are we looking for?" McClintock whispered.
"Trap doors." Bannon whispered back. "Or maybe something up in the hay loft. Barns have terrible acoustics for this kind of thing."
McClintock shook his head. "Arnie, you and Maggie check the hay loft. I'll stay down here and check for doors." The two deputies moved off. "If it weren't against the law," he said to Bannon. "I would shoot you right here and now." His hand moved to his gun.
"Ah ah, Sheriff." Bannon said. "We need to find the boy. We can deal with each other later."
McClintock said nothing, but turned and began walking slowly through the barn, shifting debris and looking for trap doors.
Bannon smiled and edged his way to the left, where there was an alcove. He was fairly sure Bradley would be inside the alcove. He didn't expect to find Mitch Tanner in there as well.
"Kyle!" Tanner said in a hiss. "What are you doing here? With the police no less!"
"Damn it, Mitch!" Bannon said. "You were sloppy! You were seen taking the boy!"
"I couldn't help it." Mitch said. "I...needed him." Mitch shifted and showed Bannon the boy, tied up and unconscious.
"Have you..." Bannon asked, nodding his head toward Bradley.
"No." Mitch said. "He fought back, so I knocked him out. He's so precious, isn't he?"
"Yes." Bannon said. "Precious."
Without warning, Bannon looped his arms around Tanner's neck and dragged him out of the alcove. Tanner tried to fight back, but Bannon had pulled the handcuff's tight.
"Sheriff!" Bannon yelled. "I found him!"
McClintock came running over and Jepsen and Seavers came hurrying down the stairs. The three of them got Tanner, barely conscious, away from Bannon and hauled him out to the car in handcuffs.
Bannon went back to the alcove and gently lifted Bradley's body. "Yes. Precious." he said.
Bannon carried Bradley out of the alcove and out to the police car, where Jepsen was radioing for an ambulance. He gently set Bradley down on the hood of the car, where Seavers started looking him over.
McClintock walked over to where Bannon stood. "I suppose I should say 'thank you,' he said. "So, thank you." He stuck out his hand and Bannon shook.
"I'm glad I could help, Sheriff." Bannon said. "Now, if you don't mind?" He held up his hands.
McClintock unlocked the handcuffs. "I can't say I trusted you, Bannon, but I'm glad you were here. We might not have gotten here until it was too late."
"My pleasure, Sheriff." Bannon said with a slight bow. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I must be getting home."
"Have a good night, Mr. Bannon." McClintock said. "Sorry we can't give you a ride home."
"Not a worry, Sheriff." Bannon said. "I have plenty to think about on my walk." Bannon passed the police car and nodded to the deputies before walking down the dirt road. "Such as how to pick up little Bradley the next time." he said with a grin.
Well. I hadn't expected that. Pretty good, though, I think, even if it's unbelievable.
Anyway, let's take a look at what's on deck for tomorrow. And that will be the last exercise that I haven't done before:
17. Get into the head of someone with whom you violently disagree -- whether it's an old ex or
someone on the opposite side of the political fence. Write from their perspective and, drum roll
please, try to make them sympathetic. Then, if it makes you feel better, have them get hit by a
train or violated by an angry golem.
Well, that should turn out interesting.
Anyway, that's going to do it for today. Thank you all for joining me and I will see you tomorrow. Have a Merry Christmas and Happy Holidays. Until tomorrow, take care and be awesome to each other.
#WWWYKI
Well, the story is almost completely done. I've done what I think are my last edits, but I'm having it read over one more time tomorrow and then, voila. Done. If things go well, it'll be in the publisher's inbox by Monday morning. Which would be awesome.
Anyway, time to get onto today's challenge, which is:
7. Step into the shoes of a character you despise with the sole exercise of making him readable
and compelling -- but without losing his loathsome qualities.
Hm. First, I need to find a character I despise.
Okay, I know this wouldn't really happen, but I liked the idea.
"Hello." Kyle said. "I would like to volunteer for the search for the missing child, Bradley."
"Hold on just a second." Sheriff McClintock said. "You're Kyle Bannon. You're a registered sex offender who, if I'm not mistaken, is a pedophile. No way we're letting you on this search."
"Then you're making a mistake, Sheriff." Bannon said. "She's been missing for about eighteen hours and you have no clues. I can find her, Sheriff. I know how they think."
"You mean how you think, don't you, Bannon?" McClintock asked.
"You're running out of time, Sheriff." Bannon said.
"Fine. You're coming to help us, but you will be guarded at all times and in handcuffs." McClintock said. "Officer Jepsen here will be your new best friend. Do I make myself perfectly clear?"
"Absolutely, Sheriff. I'll be on my best behavior." Bannon smiled.
"I will shoot you if I think you're even looking at a child wrong, Bannon." McClintock said. After a moment of tension, he asked, "Okay. What do we do first?"
"Take me to the crime scene." Bannon said. "I'll be able to figure out how he did it."
They loaded into a police car, Bannon in the back with Jepsen, and McClintock and Officer Seavers in the front. They drove to the house where Bradley was taken. McClintock opened the door for Jepsen and then opened Bannon's door.
"Nice neighborhood." Bannon said. "Which house is Bradley's?"
"That one." Jepsen said, pointing at a blue single-story house.
Bannon began looking around. He squinted off into the distance in both directions. "Officer Jepsen, please walk with me. Sheriff, if you don't mind, please stand on the sidewalk, right about here. I'll be back in a jiffy," he said with a smile.
Without waiting, Bannon started walking off to the south of the house, following the curve of the street. He stopped and turned back to face the sheriff, Jepsen catching up to him. He tilted his head a little and walked further away. Soon, he was out of sight of McClintock.
"What is he doing?" McClintock asked.
"I think he's trying to scope out the house." Seavers said, brushing her hair out of her eyes.
McClintock's radio burst to life.
"Sheriff." Jepsen said. "Bannon thinks that this spot here is where the perp would have staked out the house. We can see you and Maggie, but you can't see us. It's because of the rise at the Hatfield place. We can see by it."
McClintock squinted and looked at the Hatfield house, with it uneven front yard. Just beyond the point where the lawn jutted up, he could barely make out Jepsen's hat.
"I'll be." McClintock said. "Great, Arnie." He said into the radio. "But where do we go from here?"
"Bannon says he needs to look at Bradley's bedroom." Jepsen said hesitantly.
Instead of letting a pedophile into a grieving mother's house, the cops let Bannon look at phots they had taken of Bradley's room, including the bed, the walls, toys and the dresser.
"So, Bradley's a fan of baseball, I see." Bannon said. "That's how this man would have gained his trust."
"How so?" Jepsen asked.
"Asking about scores or the way to the nearest baseball diamond. He may have asked where to buy a paper so he could check the box scores." Bannon said. "Was Bradley a baseball player?"
"Yes." McClintock said.
"He may have watched Bradley play." Bannon said. "That may be how he selected Bradley in the first place. It wouldn't have been hard to find out where he lived."
"That's great and all," McClintock said. "But we need to know where he was taken. Not why."
"Actually, you do need to know why." Bannon said. "If he was taken for ransom, the boy would be in a different place than if he were being tortured or loved."
"Loved? Is that what you call it?" McClintock asked, grabbing Bannon's shirt.
Seaver and Jepsen grabbed the sheriff to get him to let go of Bannon.
"Regardless of my methods," Bannon said. "I love children. All children. Some just more than others." He made sure to keep the smile off of his face. "Anyway, the man would have grabbed Bradley and drove off that direction." Bannon said, pointing north.
"Why north?" Seavers asked.
"He came from that direction, because you want to be as close to the house as possible." Bannon stated matter-of-factly. "That was they feel safer. They're easier pickings that way." Again, no smile. "He drove north, because he came from the south. That's the only direction to observe the house without being seen. When you're trying to avoid the police, you tend to drive toward where you want to go."
The three police officers could only look at each other and shake their heads.
"What's north of here?" Jepsen asked. "There's hardly any neighborhood after about half a mile."
"Jesse's is up there." Seaver said, naming the town bar. "Probably not there, though."
"Let's see." McClintock said. "Just north of town, there's the Appleton and Jacobs' farms."
"The old MacNamara place is out there." Jepsen said. "Nobody's been there for years."
"Let's go check it out." McClintock said.
They all piled into the car and Seavers drove fast. They decided not to turn the lights or siren on so they would have the element of surprise. Seavers pulled the car into the gravel drive of the MacNamara farm and stopped.
"Okay, listen up." McClintock said. "Maggie and I will check out the house. Arnie, you go check out the barn."
"What about me?" Bannon asked.
"You stay right here." McClintock said.
"Sheriff, please." Bannon said. "I can hardly be trouble with these on," he said, rattling his handcuffs. "and with Officer Jepsen along. Besides, I don't think you'll find anything in the house."
"Why's that?" McClintock asked.
"If the boy starts to scream, you want somewhere further from the road, Sheriff." Bannon said. "Children can scream quite loudly, despite their small size." This time, Bannon allowed himself a small smirk. "Unless there's a basement or something," he said. "The boy will be in the barn."
McClintock looked like he was going to climb into the backseat and strangle Bannon. It took a moment of deep breaths to remember that they were here for Bradley.
"Fine." McClintock said after a moment. "We'll all go check out the barn together."
They made their way to the barn, finding the doors to be in poor shape. Jepsen was able to move one until there was space enough for them to get in.
"What are we looking for?" McClintock whispered.
"Trap doors." Bannon whispered back. "Or maybe something up in the hay loft. Barns have terrible acoustics for this kind of thing."
McClintock shook his head. "Arnie, you and Maggie check the hay loft. I'll stay down here and check for doors." The two deputies moved off. "If it weren't against the law," he said to Bannon. "I would shoot you right here and now." His hand moved to his gun.
"Ah ah, Sheriff." Bannon said. "We need to find the boy. We can deal with each other later."
McClintock said nothing, but turned and began walking slowly through the barn, shifting debris and looking for trap doors.
Bannon smiled and edged his way to the left, where there was an alcove. He was fairly sure Bradley would be inside the alcove. He didn't expect to find Mitch Tanner in there as well.
"Kyle!" Tanner said in a hiss. "What are you doing here? With the police no less!"
"Damn it, Mitch!" Bannon said. "You were sloppy! You were seen taking the boy!"
"I couldn't help it." Mitch said. "I...needed him." Mitch shifted and showed Bannon the boy, tied up and unconscious.
"Have you..." Bannon asked, nodding his head toward Bradley.
"No." Mitch said. "He fought back, so I knocked him out. He's so precious, isn't he?"
"Yes." Bannon said. "Precious."
Without warning, Bannon looped his arms around Tanner's neck and dragged him out of the alcove. Tanner tried to fight back, but Bannon had pulled the handcuff's tight.
"Sheriff!" Bannon yelled. "I found him!"
McClintock came running over and Jepsen and Seavers came hurrying down the stairs. The three of them got Tanner, barely conscious, away from Bannon and hauled him out to the car in handcuffs.
Bannon went back to the alcove and gently lifted Bradley's body. "Yes. Precious." he said.
Bannon carried Bradley out of the alcove and out to the police car, where Jepsen was radioing for an ambulance. He gently set Bradley down on the hood of the car, where Seavers started looking him over.
McClintock walked over to where Bannon stood. "I suppose I should say 'thank you,' he said. "So, thank you." He stuck out his hand and Bannon shook.
"I'm glad I could help, Sheriff." Bannon said. "Now, if you don't mind?" He held up his hands.
McClintock unlocked the handcuffs. "I can't say I trusted you, Bannon, but I'm glad you were here. We might not have gotten here until it was too late."
"My pleasure, Sheriff." Bannon said with a slight bow. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I must be getting home."
"Have a good night, Mr. Bannon." McClintock said. "Sorry we can't give you a ride home."
"Not a worry, Sheriff." Bannon said. "I have plenty to think about on my walk." Bannon passed the police car and nodded to the deputies before walking down the dirt road. "Such as how to pick up little Bradley the next time." he said with a grin.
Well. I hadn't expected that. Pretty good, though, I think, even if it's unbelievable.
Anyway, let's take a look at what's on deck for tomorrow. And that will be the last exercise that I haven't done before:
17. Get into the head of someone with whom you violently disagree -- whether it's an old ex or
someone on the opposite side of the political fence. Write from their perspective and, drum roll
please, try to make them sympathetic. Then, if it makes you feel better, have them get hit by a
train or violated by an angry golem.
Well, that should turn out interesting.
Anyway, that's going to do it for today. Thank you all for joining me and I will see you tomorrow. Have a Merry Christmas and Happy Holidays. Until tomorrow, take care and be awesome to each other.
#WWWYKI
Friday, December 23, 2011
The Ogre's Den: The Ogre/Chuck Challenge, Day 23
The Ogre's Den: The Ogre/Chuck Challenge, Day 23: Hey, Readerland! The Ogre is back and ready to roll! Today is Day 23 and we're just a couple of day from Christmas. Got another read-thr...
The Ogre/Chuck Challenge, Day 23
Hey, Readerland! The Ogre is back and ready to roll! Today is Day 23 and we're just a couple of day from Christmas.
Got another read-through of the story and I have a few more things to fix, but I'm on the right track. I should be sending it in early next week. I'm pumped.
So, what's going on today? I'm glad you asked. Today's exercise is:
I watched her walk away and laughed. At least I hadn't been bored for the last half hour.
There you have it. I'm not sure that followed the rules, but meh...who needs rules anyway? Right?
What's on tap for tomorrow, you ask? I provide the answer!
7. Step into the shoes of a character you despise with the sole exercise of making him readable
and compelling -- but without losing his loathsome qualities.
Okay. That could be like the 'moment of redemption' exercise.
So, that'll do it for today and I will see you all tomorrow. Thank you all for joining me and until next time, take care and be awesome to each other.
#WWWYKI
Got another read-through of the story and I have a few more things to fix, but I'm on the right track. I should be sending it in early next week. I'm pumped.
So, what's going on today? I'm glad you asked. Today's exercise is:
8. Write about a place that you find boring -- I mean, we're talking dull as white wallpaper -- and
make it interesting.
Now, I know I said yesterday that this should be fun, but I'm starting to rethink that premise.
I was sitting in the lobby of the hotel at a math conference. Now, I'm not mathematician, I was there for moral support. I was also bored out of my mind. Nothing against mathematicians, but really, I was out of my element.
See, I'm an extravert. I enjoy talking to people. I do not enjoy sitting and figuring out the logarithm of the hypotenuse or whatever. Give me a room full of people and I will entertain them for half an hour.
I was tempted to go take a walk around the city, but I wasn't familiar with it and didn't want to end up on the wrong side of town or just completely lost. Plus, it was really cold. So, instead of sitting in my hotel room for another few hours, I sat and watched the people walking through the lobby and assigned their lives to them.
A tall man in a badly fitting blue suit. His name was Walter and he was a logician. He had a wife and one child, a girl, and he was in town for the conference, but to engage in some shady dealings with a drug dealer he knew.
After him was a blonde woman wearing a red power suit, so red it made me blink. She was wearing three inch heels, which put her at a shade over five and a half feet tall. Wanda was on her driver's license, but later in the bar, when she met up with a fairly handsome stranger, her name would become Heidi.
A couple walked in next. Steve and Caroline. The man was big and powerful looking. Brown crew cut and a pinstriped black suit. Carried a briefcase like it contained the Ark of the Covenant. She was also tall, but not as powerful looking as her husband. Yes, they were married. She had dark brown hair pulled back into a ponytail. Her wire-rimmed glasses were gold and her business suit was black with gold flecks in the fabric. They worked for hotel security. Very professional. On the weekends, they used their security status to find people willing to wife swap. Those that did got free or reduce-price amenities.
Three women walked in together, one of them holding a program to the conference. They were Karen, Rachel and Melody. From left to right. Karne had on a dark gray suit jacket and skirt. Her hair was graying slightly at the temples, the auburn hair in a clip. Rachel was young. Barely out of college. Maybe a Master's student. Black hair in a pixie cut, little spikes standing up. Dark blue coat and pants. White shirt with nothing underneath. Melody was in jeans and a t-shirt, wearing a pair of sneakers. Her strawberry blonde hair hung loose. She was moral support, just like me. The second and third were a couple, though they kept it quiet. Rachel was attracted to Melody's laid back attitude and outlook on life, while Melody loved Rachel's focus and determination. Melody didn't know that numbers Karen and Rachel, professor and grad student, had gotten together a time or two. It would end badly for Melody. Well, they can't all be happy endings.
"Excuse me." A woman said. "May I sit here?" She indicated the chair next to me.
"Please." I said, gesturing to the chair.
"Thank you." She said. "What are you doing?"
"Excuse me?" I asked.
"You're staring at people and sometimes you nod or shake your head no." She had been watching me like I had been watching them.
"Oh." I said, a little embarrassed. "I'm a non-mathematician at a math conference and I'm bored, so I'm entertaining myself by looking at people and giving them their lives." I explained what I meant and gave her a couple of the examples I had come up with already.
"Okay." She said with a smirk. "Take a shot at me."
I looked her over. Dark suit. Sensible black shoes. No ring on her left hand. About forty, maybe a couple years younger. Short pale blonde hair to her shoulder. Minimal makeup.
"Your name is Veronica. You're thirty-two," I said, making her smile. "and you've never been married. One child. A girl, who's just started high school. Her name is Bianca. She is the result of a bad choice in college, but not one you regret. You're a textbook publisher, not a mathematician, though you have to defend your math skills to actual mathematicians. How am I doing so far?"
"Keep going." Veronica said. "Tell me more."
"Okay." I looked her in the eyes for a moment. "You exercise three to four days a week, as your schedule allows. You have taken kickboxing lessons in the past, but your right hip flares up from an old injury, so you had to stop. You come to these conferences to try to find people who will either write or review your textbooks. Occasionally you look for someone to hire."
"There's more." Veronica said. "Tell me about my sex life."
I smiled. "Very well. You're unattached at the moment, but you've been seeing someone casually for a couple of months. Bianca thinks he's cute and wishes she was older, so she could take a shot at him. But she doesn't know that you like things on the rough side. Not bondage or anything like that, but there's nothing wrong with some hair pulling or spanking every now and then. She also doesn't know about that time when you sent her to your mother's house and you and another woman had a bit of fun with a rather large group of men, but that was a one time thing. How did I do?"
"Use your imagination." Veronica said, standing up. "Now if you'll excuse me, I have a large group of men to meet with."
I watched her walk away and laughed. At least I hadn't been bored for the last half hour.
There you have it. I'm not sure that followed the rules, but meh...who needs rules anyway? Right?
What's on tap for tomorrow, you ask? I provide the answer!
7. Step into the shoes of a character you despise with the sole exercise of making him readable
and compelling -- but without losing his loathsome qualities.
Okay. That could be like the 'moment of redemption' exercise.
So, that'll do it for today and I will see you all tomorrow. Thank you all for joining me and until next time, take care and be awesome to each other.
#WWWYKI
Thursday, December 22, 2011
The Ogre's Den: The Ogre/Chuck Challenge, Day 22
The Ogre's Den: The Ogre/Chuck Challenge, Day 22: Hey, Readerland. The Ogre is back for Day 22. We are one day closer to the end of the month (and the year) and I'm one day closer to submi...
The Ogre/Chuck Challenge, Day 22
Hey, Readerland. The Ogre is back for Day 22. We are one day closer to the end of the month (and the year) and I'm one day closer to submitting my story.
Let's get started with today's exercise, which is:
4. Write about first contact: not the time humanity first meets aliens, but the first time aliens
meet humanity -- meaning, from the alien POV. Or, hell, make it whatever you want:
werewolves, subterranean goblin-folk, an army of rampaging Snookis sent to pilfer the world of
its Red Bull and tanning cream.
Into the breach!
"Hello." Anuphu said through his translator. "We have come beyond your solar system to greet you with interstellar hospitality."
The two beings sat there with their eyes wide. They were surprised and terrified by the arrival of the two bright blue beings.
"Anuphu, do you think they understand you?" Ayuvi asked. "They do not seem to be capable of speech."
Anuphu looked down and adjusted his translator. "I believe so. I have it set for 'Human.' It's possible our scientists made a mistake, but they recorded radio transmissions and recorded television recordings. I assume they are simply in shock from seeing us."
"Ah." Ayuvi said. "That would explain their behavior." She looked over the two beings. "I have seen some of these television recordings and I was under the impression that they were quite talkative."
The two beings bolted away, hiding quickly.
"How do we speak to them now?" Anuphu asked. "They flee from us."
"Perhaps they are not fleeing from us, but wish us to follow." Ayuvi said.
"Good observation, Ayuvi." Anuphu said. "Let us follow."
They followed the path of the fleeing beings and finally caught up to them. They two beings were hunched down by vertical steel bars, one of the beings having climbed partway up the bars. As Anyphu and Ayuvi approached them, the beings began throwing a soft brown substance at the two aliens.
"They are giving us offerings, I believe." Ayuvi said. She picked a piece of the 'offering' up off of the ground and bowed her head toward the beings.
"Thank you." Anuphu said. "We have no offerings to share with you, but we appreciate you giving us this gift."
The two beings began making screeching noises toward Anuphu and Ayuvi. This went on for several minutes with Anuphu trying to appease the two with no luck.
"Anuphu, let us return to our craft." Ayuvi said. "Perhaps this is a dialect our scientists are unaware of."
Anuphu sighed. "You are correct, Ayuvi. I had hoped this first contact would be more successful."
As the two aliens walked back the direction they came from, the two monkeys slowly climbed down from the bars, completely confused by what had just happened.
Okay, short entry today, but I think it worked out pretty well.
Day 22 is done and only nine more days until the end of the year. I'm getting excited. So, what's in store for tomorrow? Let's see:
Let's get started with today's exercise, which is:
4. Write about first contact: not the time humanity first meets aliens, but the first time aliens
meet humanity -- meaning, from the alien POV. Or, hell, make it whatever you want:
werewolves, subterranean goblin-folk, an army of rampaging Snookis sent to pilfer the world of
its Red Bull and tanning cream.
Into the breach!
"Hello." Anuphu said through his translator. "We have come beyond your solar system to greet you with interstellar hospitality."
The two beings sat there with their eyes wide. They were surprised and terrified by the arrival of the two bright blue beings.
"Anuphu, do you think they understand you?" Ayuvi asked. "They do not seem to be capable of speech."
Anuphu looked down and adjusted his translator. "I believe so. I have it set for 'Human.' It's possible our scientists made a mistake, but they recorded radio transmissions and recorded television recordings. I assume they are simply in shock from seeing us."
"Ah." Ayuvi said. "That would explain their behavior." She looked over the two beings. "I have seen some of these television recordings and I was under the impression that they were quite talkative."
The two beings bolted away, hiding quickly.
"How do we speak to them now?" Anuphu asked. "They flee from us."
"Perhaps they are not fleeing from us, but wish us to follow." Ayuvi said.
"Good observation, Ayuvi." Anuphu said. "Let us follow."
They followed the path of the fleeing beings and finally caught up to them. They two beings were hunched down by vertical steel bars, one of the beings having climbed partway up the bars. As Anyphu and Ayuvi approached them, the beings began throwing a soft brown substance at the two aliens.
"They are giving us offerings, I believe." Ayuvi said. She picked a piece of the 'offering' up off of the ground and bowed her head toward the beings.
"Thank you." Anuphu said. "We have no offerings to share with you, but we appreciate you giving us this gift."
The two beings began making screeching noises toward Anuphu and Ayuvi. This went on for several minutes with Anuphu trying to appease the two with no luck.
"Anuphu, let us return to our craft." Ayuvi said. "Perhaps this is a dialect our scientists are unaware of."
Anuphu sighed. "You are correct, Ayuvi. I had hoped this first contact would be more successful."
As the two aliens walked back the direction they came from, the two monkeys slowly climbed down from the bars, completely confused by what had just happened.
Okay, short entry today, but I think it worked out pretty well.
Day 22 is done and only nine more days until the end of the year. I'm getting excited. So, what's in store for tomorrow? Let's see:
8. Write about a place that you find boring -- I mean, we're talking dull as white wallpaper -- and
make it interesting.
Okay, that should be difficult. But fun.
That's going to do it for today. Thanks for joining me and I'll see you all tomorrow. Until then, take care and be awesome to each other.
#WWWYKI
Wednesday, December 21, 2011
The Ogre's Den: The Ogre/Chuck Challenge, Day 21
The Ogre's Den: The Ogre/Chuck Challenge, Day 21: Hey, Readerland! The Ogre is back once again, this time for Day 21! This one should be fun. So, I sent my story to my writing group for ...
The Ogre/Chuck Challenge, Day 21
Hey, Readerland! The Ogre is back once again, this time for Day 21! This one should be fun.
So, I sent my story to my writing group for the last edits/ideas before sending it off. I could have it out before the end of the week at this rate. But let's get onto today's challenge. What was it?
12. Transcribe an interview with a mythic figure -- the Devil, an archangel, Hephaestus, your
deceased parent, the Burger King, whoever tickles your pineal gland.
Let's go.
I clicked on the recorder and nodded to the man across the table. "For the record, would you state your name?"
"Dracula." The man said.
"Full name?" I asked.
"Vlad Tsepesh, also known as Vlad the Third, Voivode of Wallachia, also known as Vlad the Impaler and Vlad Dracula." The man said, stroking his long beard.
"And you were born in fourteen thirty-one in Transylvania?" I asked.
"Yes. I am five hundred, seventy nine years old. My birthday is on the day Christians celebrate Christmas." He sat back in his chair and crossed his arms across his impressive chest.
"Did you really impale one hundred thousand people?" I asked, looking over the file in front of me.
"No. It was probably no more than twenty thousand." Dracula said. "I released some prisoners to spread the rumors of greater numbers to inspire greater fear among my enemies. Quite ingenious, I thought."
"Absolutely." I said. "When the nineteen ninety two movie came out..."
"Bah!" Dracula said. "While I thought Gary Oldman did a wonderful job portraying me, the story was pathetic. Old Stoker didn't understand when I explained everything to him. He drew me as a villain instead of the man I am."
"What kind of man is that?" I asked.
"I am a warrior! I have always been a warrior." He said. "Whether as a soldier or a general, I fought for Romania and for the throne."
"Personally, I thought the story stuck as closely to the book as possible." I said. "Oldman did a particularly good job, I thought."
"Yes. The problem is that the book was incorrect from the start." Dracula said. "You see, when I spoke to Bram about who I was and what I had become, he immediately fashioned that tale with myself as the villain, as opposed to Doctor Van Helsing, who was the real villain."
"How so?" I asked.
"Lucy. Poor sweet innocent Lucy." Dracula looked down at the table, sadness coloring his features. "I came to her and explained my need for blood to her and that her status as unblemished was particularly attractive to me. She said that she would also speak to Mina on my behalf, but little did she know that Mina was not as pure. That Jonathon was quite insistent, from what I understand."
I was surprised when my guest stood up and began pacing the room.
"When I came to Lucy again, she gave me what I required and nothing more. However, Mr. Morris intruded and assumed I had some evil intentions toward Miss Westerna." Dracula almost growled. "Like a rotten child, he tattled to Mr. Holmwood, who told Dr. Seward. Dr. Seward, idiot that he was, summoned the great Dr. Van Helsing and they attempted to kill Miss Westerna."
"Kill her?" I asked. "They were trying to save her from you!" I paused when he glared at me. "They were giving her blood transfusions."
"Unnecessary blood transfusions!" Dracula yelled. "Those imbeciles knew nothing of blood types or sanitation! They were giving her the wrong types of blood, so her body couldn't use them and because they weren't exactly the cleanest of people, they gave her an infection. In order to rescue her from her 'saviors,' I had to turn her or she would have been lost forever. Obviously that didn't work very well, as those geniuses went and hunted her down as if she was some simple beast. I should have killed them all."
"Why didn't you?" I asked.
"Because...because Mina asked me not to, in respect to Lucy's memory." Dracula said. "It was for Lucy that I stayed my hand." He shook his head. "After that, Mina and I became close, though my behavior was never inappropriate, despite what Mr. Stoker wrote. She came to me because Mr. Harker was quite insistent, as I mentioned. He also raised his hand to her numerous times. I should have killed him first."
"Wait." I said. "The way it presented in the story, you entranced Mina and she became your slave. Or something. Are you saying that's not what happened?"
"Exactly." Dracula said. "Mina came to me as a friend and I comforted her only in appropriate ways. I was supportive and I listened to her. It was her own notion to stop relations with Mr. Harker."
"Mina was going to leave Jonathon?" I asked.
"She was hopeful that going out in public so everyone could see her bruised face would make Mr. Harker change his tune." Dracula said. "Sadly, that was not the case."
"What happened?" I asked.
"He began hitting her in places where no one would see except him. It gave him power over her." He said. "She came to me again. I called for a doctor and the doctor suggested leaving Mr. Harker. I suggested that she accompany me back to Transylvania, where even in my condition, I maintain a bit of power. I suggested she move to Transylvania and there she could recover and possibly find someone who would appreciate her."
"And you said that with no ulterior motives?" I asked. "I find that hard to believe."
Dracula laughed, deep and loud. "As much as I understand your accusations, you have to understand that due to my condition, there are certain...bodily functions that I cannot entertain anymore. My intentions were pure. I booked us passage to Transylvania, but Mr. Harker, being unable to accept his fiance's decision, convinced his friends that I had kidnapped Miss Harker and led them on a quest to retrieve her."
"And?" I asked.
"And they caught us near the Borgo Pass. I attempted to make peace between the parties, but Mr. Harker was having none of it." Dracula's hand went to his chest. "Mr. Morris is quite handy with a knife, but fortunately, it wasn't a wooden stake."
"You survived, but what happened to Lucy?" I asked. "The book states that she went back to Jonathon and they got married."
"Because Mr. Stoker needed a happy ending for his incredibly inaccurate tale." Dracula said with a smirk. "She returned to Transylvania with me and found herself a farmer who loved her and appreciated her. They were happy until they died, hand in hand, due to an influenza outbreak."
"Thank you, Mr. Dracula. I appreciate you speaking to me to clear things up." I said, offering him my hand.
"My pleasure. I am hoping you can write a book that will set the record straight." He took my hand and squeezed it firmly before leaving.
Okay, that was fun. Dracula has been one of my favorite characters of all time.
Okay, we're getting closer and closer to the end of the ride, ladies and gentlemen. I appreciate you sticking with me through this. Let's figure out what's happening tomorrow. The lovely assistant has drawn:
4. Write about first contact: not the time humanity first meets aliens, but the first time aliens
meet humanity -- meaning, from the alien POV. Or, hell, make it whatever you want:
werewolves, subterranean goblin-folk, an army of rampaging Snookis sent to pilfer the world of
its Red Bull and tanning cream.
Huh. That should be interesting.
Okay, that's going to do it for today and I'll see you tomorrow. Until then, take care and be awesome to each other.
#WWWYKI
So, I sent my story to my writing group for the last edits/ideas before sending it off. I could have it out before the end of the week at this rate. But let's get onto today's challenge. What was it?
12. Transcribe an interview with a mythic figure -- the Devil, an archangel, Hephaestus, your
deceased parent, the Burger King, whoever tickles your pineal gland.
Let's go.
I clicked on the recorder and nodded to the man across the table. "For the record, would you state your name?"
"Dracula." The man said.
"Full name?" I asked.
"Vlad Tsepesh, also known as Vlad the Third, Voivode of Wallachia, also known as Vlad the Impaler and Vlad Dracula." The man said, stroking his long beard.
"And you were born in fourteen thirty-one in Transylvania?" I asked.
"Yes. I am five hundred, seventy nine years old. My birthday is on the day Christians celebrate Christmas." He sat back in his chair and crossed his arms across his impressive chest.
"Did you really impale one hundred thousand people?" I asked, looking over the file in front of me.
"No. It was probably no more than twenty thousand." Dracula said. "I released some prisoners to spread the rumors of greater numbers to inspire greater fear among my enemies. Quite ingenious, I thought."
"Absolutely." I said. "When the nineteen ninety two movie came out..."
"Bah!" Dracula said. "While I thought Gary Oldman did a wonderful job portraying me, the story was pathetic. Old Stoker didn't understand when I explained everything to him. He drew me as a villain instead of the man I am."
"What kind of man is that?" I asked.
"I am a warrior! I have always been a warrior." He said. "Whether as a soldier or a general, I fought for Romania and for the throne."
"Personally, I thought the story stuck as closely to the book as possible." I said. "Oldman did a particularly good job, I thought."
"Yes. The problem is that the book was incorrect from the start." Dracula said. "You see, when I spoke to Bram about who I was and what I had become, he immediately fashioned that tale with myself as the villain, as opposed to Doctor Van Helsing, who was the real villain."
"How so?" I asked.
"Lucy. Poor sweet innocent Lucy." Dracula looked down at the table, sadness coloring his features. "I came to her and explained my need for blood to her and that her status as unblemished was particularly attractive to me. She said that she would also speak to Mina on my behalf, but little did she know that Mina was not as pure. That Jonathon was quite insistent, from what I understand."
I was surprised when my guest stood up and began pacing the room.
"When I came to Lucy again, she gave me what I required and nothing more. However, Mr. Morris intruded and assumed I had some evil intentions toward Miss Westerna." Dracula almost growled. "Like a rotten child, he tattled to Mr. Holmwood, who told Dr. Seward. Dr. Seward, idiot that he was, summoned the great Dr. Van Helsing and they attempted to kill Miss Westerna."
"Kill her?" I asked. "They were trying to save her from you!" I paused when he glared at me. "They were giving her blood transfusions."
"Unnecessary blood transfusions!" Dracula yelled. "Those imbeciles knew nothing of blood types or sanitation! They were giving her the wrong types of blood, so her body couldn't use them and because they weren't exactly the cleanest of people, they gave her an infection. In order to rescue her from her 'saviors,' I had to turn her or she would have been lost forever. Obviously that didn't work very well, as those geniuses went and hunted her down as if she was some simple beast. I should have killed them all."
"Why didn't you?" I asked.
"Because...because Mina asked me not to, in respect to Lucy's memory." Dracula said. "It was for Lucy that I stayed my hand." He shook his head. "After that, Mina and I became close, though my behavior was never inappropriate, despite what Mr. Stoker wrote. She came to me because Mr. Harker was quite insistent, as I mentioned. He also raised his hand to her numerous times. I should have killed him first."
"Wait." I said. "The way it presented in the story, you entranced Mina and she became your slave. Or something. Are you saying that's not what happened?"
"Exactly." Dracula said. "Mina came to me as a friend and I comforted her only in appropriate ways. I was supportive and I listened to her. It was her own notion to stop relations with Mr. Harker."
"Mina was going to leave Jonathon?" I asked.
"She was hopeful that going out in public so everyone could see her bruised face would make Mr. Harker change his tune." Dracula said. "Sadly, that was not the case."
"What happened?" I asked.
"He began hitting her in places where no one would see except him. It gave him power over her." He said. "She came to me again. I called for a doctor and the doctor suggested leaving Mr. Harker. I suggested that she accompany me back to Transylvania, where even in my condition, I maintain a bit of power. I suggested she move to Transylvania and there she could recover and possibly find someone who would appreciate her."
"And you said that with no ulterior motives?" I asked. "I find that hard to believe."
Dracula laughed, deep and loud. "As much as I understand your accusations, you have to understand that due to my condition, there are certain...bodily functions that I cannot entertain anymore. My intentions were pure. I booked us passage to Transylvania, but Mr. Harker, being unable to accept his fiance's decision, convinced his friends that I had kidnapped Miss Harker and led them on a quest to retrieve her."
"And?" I asked.
"And they caught us near the Borgo Pass. I attempted to make peace between the parties, but Mr. Harker was having none of it." Dracula's hand went to his chest. "Mr. Morris is quite handy with a knife, but fortunately, it wasn't a wooden stake."
"You survived, but what happened to Lucy?" I asked. "The book states that she went back to Jonathon and they got married."
"Because Mr. Stoker needed a happy ending for his incredibly inaccurate tale." Dracula said with a smirk. "She returned to Transylvania with me and found herself a farmer who loved her and appreciated her. They were happy until they died, hand in hand, due to an influenza outbreak."
"Thank you, Mr. Dracula. I appreciate you speaking to me to clear things up." I said, offering him my hand.
"My pleasure. I am hoping you can write a book that will set the record straight." He took my hand and squeezed it firmly before leaving.
Okay, that was fun. Dracula has been one of my favorite characters of all time.
Okay, we're getting closer and closer to the end of the ride, ladies and gentlemen. I appreciate you sticking with me through this. Let's figure out what's happening tomorrow. The lovely assistant has drawn:
4. Write about first contact: not the time humanity first meets aliens, but the first time aliens
meet humanity -- meaning, from the alien POV. Or, hell, make it whatever you want:
werewolves, subterranean goblin-folk, an army of rampaging Snookis sent to pilfer the world of
its Red Bull and tanning cream.
Huh. That should be interesting.
Okay, that's going to do it for today and I'll see you tomorrow. Until then, take care and be awesome to each other.
#WWWYKI
Tuesday, December 20, 2011
The Ogre's Den: The Ogre/Chuck Challenge, Day 20
The Ogre's Den: The Ogre/Chuck Challenge, Day 20: Hey, Readerland! Back again with Day 20. Including today, 11 more days to go. Got through my edits and rewrites today. Going to have my...
The Ogre/Chuck Challenge, Day 20
Hey, Readerland! Back again with Day 20. Including today, 11 more days to go.
Got through my edits and rewrites today. Going to have my lovely assistant read through it tonight or tomorrow and then post it for the group again. I might actually get this out before the week's over. How cool would that be?
Anyway, time to get started on tonight's exercise, which is:
14. Capture the moment of redemption for a truly terrible villain. Why and how does it come?
Yeah, I remember this one. Last time I wrote about a murderer. I have no idea what I'm going to come up with this time.
Jack the Ripper stepped out of the cool English night and into a liitle nook of a church not many people knew about. His shoes were muddy and his waistcoat covered in blood. There was no one in the church, so he knelt down in front of the small alter and prayed.
"Lord, please guide me." He said. "I have slain another, but there are still so many."
"Hello, Albert." A voice said.
Albert looked up and found a man sitting on one of the two pews. The man had a kind face and he was dressed well, with his long hair pulled back into a ponytail.
"Who are you?" Jack asked.
"Come now, Albert." The man said. "Surely, in my house, you know who I am."
"J-Jesus?" Albert Victor, Duke of Clarence and Avondale, known colloquially as Jack the Ripper, asked. "It can't be."
"Why not?" Jesus asked. "Did you not ask my father for help? I have come to help you, Albert."
"Yes? Please, help me Lord Jesus!" Albert cried. "I have tried and tried to make London a better place for families by destroying those elements that infest it. I have started with the prostitutes and soon I will move on to the thugs and retches that inhabit the gutters of this great city!"
Jesus' eyes went wide. "Albert, no. You are doing the exact opposite! The killings you have perpetrated have caused a panic in the city! There is more violence and corruption now that you have killed the harlots! Don't you see, Albert? You are becoming that which you seek to destroy."
"No!" Albert stood and paced to the door, but did not leave. "I am making this city safer! These people, this refuse that lives in the slums, the understand nothing but violence and death! I have visited that upon them and I remain free! Soon they shall learn that violence begets violence and more of them will die!"
"How many, Albert?" Jesus asked. "How many of them will die before enough have perished to prove your point?"
"As many as needs be!" Albert yelled. "As many as it takes."
"Albert, you are going about this the wrong way." Jesus said. "You are in a position of influence. Use that influence to make changes in society, not your knife! Your father has made changes and so can you!"
"But how?" Albert asked. "These people care nothing for the law! I have been killing prostitutes!"
"And killing is a sin against God, Albert." Jesus said softly. "You have sinned now seven times yet you do not seek forgiveness."
"Forgiveness is not for me." Albert said. "Forgiveness is for those who have done wrong and need to redeem themselves! I have not done wrong! I have done right for all of London! For all of England!"
Jesus stood and faced Albert. "Take my hand, Albert. There is nothing to be afraid of. I just wish to show you what awaits you if you continue down this path."
Albert stood still for a moment and then took the man's hand.
Albert's mind was filled with images of more and more death, each murder causing more and more disruption in London. Buildings were destroyed and even the military had trouble maintaining order. The images finally showed Albert his discovery over the body of a seventeenth prostitute. He was surrounded by police officers.
Albert watched as the visions showed him that his father, Edward VII, disowned him and threw him to the court. He was found guilty and hung the next morning.
From there, Albert saw himself in Hell, a lake of frozen fire burning him continuously. He could hear his own screaming and knew without doubt that it would last forever.
"Nothing I'm doing will make things better." Albert said breathlessly as the visions cleared.
"No." Jesus said.
"What must I do?" Albert asked, grabbed the front of Jesus' suit.
"Lay down your knife." Jesus said. "Kneel here and pray to my Father for forgiveness. He will show you the way, Albert."
"Thank you, Lord." Albert said, falling to his knees, the bloody knife clanging on the floor. "I will. I will pray for forgiveness and guidance. Thank you, Lord Jesus!"
Albert looked around and saw that he was all alone. He turned back to the altar and bowed his head.
Okay, so I went with a literal redemption, I guess. It worked out.
So, what's on tap for tomorrow, you ask? The answer is:
12. Transcribe an interview with a mythic figure -- the Devil, an archangel, Hephaestus, your
deceased parent, the Burger King, whoever tickles your pineal gland.
Ooo. That could be fun. I'll have to figure out who to interview first.
Anyway, that's going to do it for today. Thank you all for joining me and I will see you tomorrow. Until then, take care and be awesome to each other.
#WWWYKI
Got through my edits and rewrites today. Going to have my lovely assistant read through it tonight or tomorrow and then post it for the group again. I might actually get this out before the week's over. How cool would that be?
Anyway, time to get started on tonight's exercise, which is:
14. Capture the moment of redemption for a truly terrible villain. Why and how does it come?
Yeah, I remember this one. Last time I wrote about a murderer. I have no idea what I'm going to come up with this time.
Jack the Ripper stepped out of the cool English night and into a liitle nook of a church not many people knew about. His shoes were muddy and his waistcoat covered in blood. There was no one in the church, so he knelt down in front of the small alter and prayed.
"Lord, please guide me." He said. "I have slain another, but there are still so many."
"Hello, Albert." A voice said.
Albert looked up and found a man sitting on one of the two pews. The man had a kind face and he was dressed well, with his long hair pulled back into a ponytail.
"Who are you?" Jack asked.
"Come now, Albert." The man said. "Surely, in my house, you know who I am."
"J-Jesus?" Albert Victor, Duke of Clarence and Avondale, known colloquially as Jack the Ripper, asked. "It can't be."
"Why not?" Jesus asked. "Did you not ask my father for help? I have come to help you, Albert."
"Yes? Please, help me Lord Jesus!" Albert cried. "I have tried and tried to make London a better place for families by destroying those elements that infest it. I have started with the prostitutes and soon I will move on to the thugs and retches that inhabit the gutters of this great city!"
Jesus' eyes went wide. "Albert, no. You are doing the exact opposite! The killings you have perpetrated have caused a panic in the city! There is more violence and corruption now that you have killed the harlots! Don't you see, Albert? You are becoming that which you seek to destroy."
"No!" Albert stood and paced to the door, but did not leave. "I am making this city safer! These people, this refuse that lives in the slums, the understand nothing but violence and death! I have visited that upon them and I remain free! Soon they shall learn that violence begets violence and more of them will die!"
"How many, Albert?" Jesus asked. "How many of them will die before enough have perished to prove your point?"
"As many as needs be!" Albert yelled. "As many as it takes."
"Albert, you are going about this the wrong way." Jesus said. "You are in a position of influence. Use that influence to make changes in society, not your knife! Your father has made changes and so can you!"
"But how?" Albert asked. "These people care nothing for the law! I have been killing prostitutes!"
"And killing is a sin against God, Albert." Jesus said softly. "You have sinned now seven times yet you do not seek forgiveness."
"Forgiveness is not for me." Albert said. "Forgiveness is for those who have done wrong and need to redeem themselves! I have not done wrong! I have done right for all of London! For all of England!"
Jesus stood and faced Albert. "Take my hand, Albert. There is nothing to be afraid of. I just wish to show you what awaits you if you continue down this path."
Albert stood still for a moment and then took the man's hand.
Albert's mind was filled with images of more and more death, each murder causing more and more disruption in London. Buildings were destroyed and even the military had trouble maintaining order. The images finally showed Albert his discovery over the body of a seventeenth prostitute. He was surrounded by police officers.
Albert watched as the visions showed him that his father, Edward VII, disowned him and threw him to the court. He was found guilty and hung the next morning.
From there, Albert saw himself in Hell, a lake of frozen fire burning him continuously. He could hear his own screaming and knew without doubt that it would last forever.
"Nothing I'm doing will make things better." Albert said breathlessly as the visions cleared.
"No." Jesus said.
"What must I do?" Albert asked, grabbed the front of Jesus' suit.
"Lay down your knife." Jesus said. "Kneel here and pray to my Father for forgiveness. He will show you the way, Albert."
"Thank you, Lord." Albert said, falling to his knees, the bloody knife clanging on the floor. "I will. I will pray for forgiveness and guidance. Thank you, Lord Jesus!"
Albert looked around and saw that he was all alone. He turned back to the altar and bowed his head.
Okay, so I went with a literal redemption, I guess. It worked out.
So, what's on tap for tomorrow, you ask? The answer is:
12. Transcribe an interview with a mythic figure -- the Devil, an archangel, Hephaestus, your
deceased parent, the Burger King, whoever tickles your pineal gland.
Ooo. That could be fun. I'll have to figure out who to interview first.
Anyway, that's going to do it for today. Thank you all for joining me and I will see you tomorrow. Until then, take care and be awesome to each other.
#WWWYKI
Monday, December 19, 2011
The Ogre's Den: The Ogre/Chuck Challenge, Day 19
The Ogre's Den: The Ogre/Chuck Challenge, Day 19: Hey, Readerland! The Ogre is back again with Day 19. We're one day closer to the 31st. Had a good dinner out tonight with the Mensa folk...
The Ogre/Chuck Challenge, Day 19
Hey, Readerland! The Ogre is back again with Day 19. We're one day closer to the 31st.
Had a good dinner out tonight with the Mensa folks. Good food and good conversation. I almost forgot about doing this exercise, honestly. But it's time to get it started. What's today's topic?
20. Pick five random words from a random word generator (like, say, this one) and incorporate
all of them into your writing exercise.
So, after a little generation, my words are:
layby
headache
button
down light
ballroom
I had to look up the words 'layby' and 'down light.'
A layby is a lane off to the side of the road where vehicles may wait. A down light is a lamp, often a light bulb set in a metal cylinder, mounted on or recessed into the ceiling so that a beam of light is directed downward.
Let's get going.
Todd was running late. His headache wouldn't go away. He knew it was the stress, but even knowing that didn't help any. He hoped the pain killers would kick in soon.
He pushed the pedal closer to the floor, the care reaching close to ninety miles an hour. He knew he should have left earlier, but he kept finding reasons to put it off. Nerves, mostly. He was nervous. Who wouldn't be?
He pushed the button to open the glovebox and rummaged around for some gum to help keep him from clenching his jaw too much. He popped three pieces into his mouth and chewed hard, but they didn't seem to help.
As soon as he could, he pulled into the layby and leaned his head against the steering wheel.
"Come on, Todd. you can do this." he said. "It's only the biggest day of your life. It's not like hundreds of people are counting on you."
He leaned back and looked in the mirror. They had been through so much. The planning, the coordinating, the inviting, the talks with the pastor beforehand, dealing with each others parents. It was too much for them and now Todd was going to snap.
He felt like he was going to cry, but a realization dawned on him: there was only one person depending on him and that was Sarah. It had been the two of them that had done everything. No help from friends or family. The two of them could make it now. Todd just had to get there.
He pulled back out onto the road and pushed the pedal all the way down, flying over roads that he knew like the back of his hand. Time seemed to speed up as he drove. He squealed the car to a stop in front of the event center.
He ran inside and spotted the signs for the ballroom. He should have known where to go, but his brain wasn't quite firing on all cylinders. He rushed down the hall, passing a few people out in the hallway without stopping.
He grabbed the handle of the door for the ballroom and stopped just inside as everyone turned to look. Yes, he was late, but Sarah was still there waiting for him. Her smile made everything worth it.
Sarah stood with the pastor under the down light, one of the only sources of light in the room. She was the most beautiful women Todd had ever laid eyes on.
He hurried to the front of the room, shoving past Sarah's protesting father.
"Sorry I'm late." He said.
"It's okay." Sarah said. "You're here now."
"No, we're here now." Todd said. "That's all that matters."
Not bad, not bad.
That's going to do it for today. I'd like to thank you all for joining me and hopefully you'll be back for tomorrow, in which the exercise will be:
14. Capture the moment of redemption for a truly terrible villain. Why and how does it come?
Hm. This one was tough before. I'll have to come up with something good for the repeat.
Well, until tomorrow, take care and be awesome to each other.
#WWWYKI
Had a good dinner out tonight with the Mensa folks. Good food and good conversation. I almost forgot about doing this exercise, honestly. But it's time to get it started. What's today's topic?
20. Pick five random words from a random word generator (like, say, this one) and incorporate
all of them into your writing exercise.
So, after a little generation, my words are:
layby
headache
button
down light
ballroom
I had to look up the words 'layby' and 'down light.'
A layby is a lane off to the side of the road where vehicles may wait. A down light is a lamp, often a light bulb set in a metal cylinder, mounted on or recessed into the ceiling so that a beam of light is directed downward.
Let's get going.
Todd was running late. His headache wouldn't go away. He knew it was the stress, but even knowing that didn't help any. He hoped the pain killers would kick in soon.
He pushed the pedal closer to the floor, the care reaching close to ninety miles an hour. He knew he should have left earlier, but he kept finding reasons to put it off. Nerves, mostly. He was nervous. Who wouldn't be?
He pushed the button to open the glovebox and rummaged around for some gum to help keep him from clenching his jaw too much. He popped three pieces into his mouth and chewed hard, but they didn't seem to help.
As soon as he could, he pulled into the layby and leaned his head against the steering wheel.
"Come on, Todd. you can do this." he said. "It's only the biggest day of your life. It's not like hundreds of people are counting on you."
He leaned back and looked in the mirror. They had been through so much. The planning, the coordinating, the inviting, the talks with the pastor beforehand, dealing with each others parents. It was too much for them and now Todd was going to snap.
He felt like he was going to cry, but a realization dawned on him: there was only one person depending on him and that was Sarah. It had been the two of them that had done everything. No help from friends or family. The two of them could make it now. Todd just had to get there.
He pulled back out onto the road and pushed the pedal all the way down, flying over roads that he knew like the back of his hand. Time seemed to speed up as he drove. He squealed the car to a stop in front of the event center.
He ran inside and spotted the signs for the ballroom. He should have known where to go, but his brain wasn't quite firing on all cylinders. He rushed down the hall, passing a few people out in the hallway without stopping.
He grabbed the handle of the door for the ballroom and stopped just inside as everyone turned to look. Yes, he was late, but Sarah was still there waiting for him. Her smile made everything worth it.
Sarah stood with the pastor under the down light, one of the only sources of light in the room. She was the most beautiful women Todd had ever laid eyes on.
He hurried to the front of the room, shoving past Sarah's protesting father.
"Sorry I'm late." He said.
"It's okay." Sarah said. "You're here now."
"No, we're here now." Todd said. "That's all that matters."
Not bad, not bad.
That's going to do it for today. I'd like to thank you all for joining me and hopefully you'll be back for tomorrow, in which the exercise will be:
14. Capture the moment of redemption for a truly terrible villain. Why and how does it come?
Hm. This one was tough before. I'll have to come up with something good for the repeat.
Well, until tomorrow, take care and be awesome to each other.
#WWWYKI
Sunday, December 18, 2011
The Ogre's Den: The Ogre/Chuck Challenge, Day 18
The Ogre's Den: The Ogre/Chuck Challenge, Day 18: Hey, Readerland. The Ogre is back for Day 18. Fourteen days left in this escapade. I hope you're enjoying it and I appreciate you joining...
The Ogre/Chuck Challenge, Day 18
Hey, Readerland. The Ogre is back for Day 18. Fourteen days left in this escapade. I hope you're enjoying it and I appreciate you joining me for the ride.
So, last writer's group meeting today before submission on the steampunk story. I'm going to make the last edits and repost it for my writing group and then hopefully have it submitted by, at the latest, midweek next week. I'm excited. And a little nervous.
Okay, time to get this challenge rolling. What's the challenge for today?
13. A character is crossing the road. Something bad happens. Describe it. No -- don't let it just be
a car striking them. Too easy. Dig deeper. Once you find the conflict, add another. And another.
Each conflict must be worse than the last. Escalate, escalate, escalate.
Let's do it.
Frank was standing at the corner of Fulton and Waymore, waiting for the light to change so he could cross the street. A woman walked toward the corner from Frank's right and he took advantage to check her out.
She was probably only a couple of inches over five feet tall, but was wearing absurdly high heels, which put her close to six feet tall. Her hair was piled high and she was wearing a thick coat of unnecessary makeup. She was carrying a purse that Frank thought would have held a small whale.
'Typical' he thought as he watched her chatter away on her cell phone. He thought she might have been attractive if she wasn't 'ridiculous.' He shook his head and watched her stop in front of him and ignore the signal and step off of the curb into traffic.
There was the screeching of tires as the car in the near lane tried to stop before hitting her. The car hit her in the side of the knees, slamming her into the hood off the car. She bounced off of the hood and slid to the ground, limp as a rag doll. Blood ran down her cheek from where her head had hit the hood.
The man behind the wheel sat frozen for a moment before bursting into tears.
Frank had first-aid training, so he rushed over to the woman. He found a pulse and the girl was still breathing.
"Miss! Miss, can you hear me?" Frank yelled. No response. "Somebody call 9-1-1!"
As he was trying to determine whether her neck was broken, Frank noticed her wig had come off. He just shoved it out of the way and began gently feeling the back of her neck. It didn't feel broken, but he wasn't sure.
Frank looked up and saw that there were dozens of people gathered around him and the woman. "Everyone back up! We need room for the paramedics!" Nobody really did anything. "You! You!" he yelled, pointing at two of the people in the crowd. "Back them up! We need more room!"
Because someone had assumed control, the two men started pushing back the rest of the crowd.
Frank looked back down at the woman and noticed that several small plastic bags had fallen out of her purse, along with a wrapped stack of twenty dollar bills. The baggies were filled with a white powdery substance. Frank wasn't sure what the powder was for sure, but he had a pretty good guess. There were sirens in the distance, so Frank shoved the baggies and cash back into the woman's bag. 'Let the police deal with it,' he thought.
The police and paramedics arrived. The police cordoned off the area while one of the paramedics spoke to Frank and the other secured the woman's neck with a brace.
"You know," the paramedic with the neck brace said. "She kind of looks like Cynthia Capriotti. I thought she had more hair, though."
"She had a wig on." Frank said. "I shoved it off to the side when I checked on her."
"Capriotti?" a cop asked. "You mean the crime family?"
"Yeah." The paramedic said. "It looks like her. Come on, Johnny. Let's get her in the truck and over to Mercy." The first repsonders gently lifted the gurney and placed the woman in the back.
"Scotty, does she look pregnant to you?" the other paramedic asked.
"Yeah, she does," Scotty said. "Maybe a couple of months, I guess. I'll radio it in."
"So, you want to tell me what happened?" one of the cops asked.
"Yeah, sure." Frank said. He told his story starting when the woman stepped off the curb and was hit by the car. He made sure to mention the powder and the money, as well as leaving the officer his contact information, just in case.
Okay, that'll do it. Not very good, but not every hit is a touchdown. Or some other sports metaphor that makes sense.
That's going to do it for today. For tomorrow, we have:
20. Pick five random words from a random word generator (like, say, this one) and incorporate
all of them into your writing exercise.
Just go to that page and click the number of words you want and it'll generate like a bad mother shut yo mouth!
Okay, I'm gonna get outta here and I will see you all tomorrow. Thanks for joining me and until next time, take care and be awesome to each other.
#WWWYKI
So, last writer's group meeting today before submission on the steampunk story. I'm going to make the last edits and repost it for my writing group and then hopefully have it submitted by, at the latest, midweek next week. I'm excited. And a little nervous.
Okay, time to get this challenge rolling. What's the challenge for today?
13. A character is crossing the road. Something bad happens. Describe it. No -- don't let it just be
a car striking them. Too easy. Dig deeper. Once you find the conflict, add another. And another.
Each conflict must be worse than the last. Escalate, escalate, escalate.
Let's do it.
Frank was standing at the corner of Fulton and Waymore, waiting for the light to change so he could cross the street. A woman walked toward the corner from Frank's right and he took advantage to check her out.
She was probably only a couple of inches over five feet tall, but was wearing absurdly high heels, which put her close to six feet tall. Her hair was piled high and she was wearing a thick coat of unnecessary makeup. She was carrying a purse that Frank thought would have held a small whale.
'Typical' he thought as he watched her chatter away on her cell phone. He thought she might have been attractive if she wasn't 'ridiculous.' He shook his head and watched her stop in front of him and ignore the signal and step off of the curb into traffic.
There was the screeching of tires as the car in the near lane tried to stop before hitting her. The car hit her in the side of the knees, slamming her into the hood off the car. She bounced off of the hood and slid to the ground, limp as a rag doll. Blood ran down her cheek from where her head had hit the hood.
The man behind the wheel sat frozen for a moment before bursting into tears.
Frank had first-aid training, so he rushed over to the woman. He found a pulse and the girl was still breathing.
"Miss! Miss, can you hear me?" Frank yelled. No response. "Somebody call 9-1-1!"
As he was trying to determine whether her neck was broken, Frank noticed her wig had come off. He just shoved it out of the way and began gently feeling the back of her neck. It didn't feel broken, but he wasn't sure.
Frank looked up and saw that there were dozens of people gathered around him and the woman. "Everyone back up! We need room for the paramedics!" Nobody really did anything. "You! You!" he yelled, pointing at two of the people in the crowd. "Back them up! We need more room!"
Because someone had assumed control, the two men started pushing back the rest of the crowd.
Frank looked back down at the woman and noticed that several small plastic bags had fallen out of her purse, along with a wrapped stack of twenty dollar bills. The baggies were filled with a white powdery substance. Frank wasn't sure what the powder was for sure, but he had a pretty good guess. There were sirens in the distance, so Frank shoved the baggies and cash back into the woman's bag. 'Let the police deal with it,' he thought.
The police and paramedics arrived. The police cordoned off the area while one of the paramedics spoke to Frank and the other secured the woman's neck with a brace.
"You know," the paramedic with the neck brace said. "She kind of looks like Cynthia Capriotti. I thought she had more hair, though."
"She had a wig on." Frank said. "I shoved it off to the side when I checked on her."
"Capriotti?" a cop asked. "You mean the crime family?"
"Yeah." The paramedic said. "It looks like her. Come on, Johnny. Let's get her in the truck and over to Mercy." The first repsonders gently lifted the gurney and placed the woman in the back.
"Scotty, does she look pregnant to you?" the other paramedic asked.
"Yeah, she does," Scotty said. "Maybe a couple of months, I guess. I'll radio it in."
"So, you want to tell me what happened?" one of the cops asked.
"Yeah, sure." Frank said. He told his story starting when the woman stepped off the curb and was hit by the car. He made sure to mention the powder and the money, as well as leaving the officer his contact information, just in case.
Okay, that'll do it. Not very good, but not every hit is a touchdown. Or some other sports metaphor that makes sense.
That's going to do it for today. For tomorrow, we have:
20. Pick five random words from a random word generator (like, say, this one) and incorporate
all of them into your writing exercise.
Just go to that page and click the number of words you want and it'll generate like a bad mother shut yo mouth!
Okay, I'm gonna get outta here and I will see you all tomorrow. Thanks for joining me and until next time, take care and be awesome to each other.
#WWWYKI
Saturday, December 17, 2011
The Ogre's Den: The Ogre/Chuck Challenge, Day 17
The Ogre's Den: The Ogre/Chuck Challenge, Day 17: Hey, Readerland! Barely twelve hours since my last post and I am back again to kick of Day 17 the right way. Honestly, I prefer writing in...
The Ogre/Chuck Challenge, Day 17
Hey, Readerland! Barely twelve hours since my last post and I am back again to kick of Day 17 the right way. Honestly, I prefer writing in the evenings after everything is done, but I have a gaming session later on today and I won't be getting back until late, so a morning entry it is. That also means caffeine a little earlier than usual.
Well, let's get this road on the show! (Yes, I know I have that backwards)
What is today's topic?
24. Create tension by writing a scene where a character you adore does something you hate.
I had problems with this one when I did it before, because it took me a while to come up with a character I liked enough to write something that I hated that they did. I picked Pete Lattimer from Warehouse 13 the last time. I think I have an idea for this time. Let's see how it works.
Yeah, this doesn't really fit in with the timeline of the show/movie at all. Just roll with it. Maybe it's a dream or something.
"You did what?" Mal asked.
Mal hadn't yelled or screamed or any of that nonsense. That made Jayne more nervous. "Mal, they was Reavers! There was nothing I could do!" Jayne said.
"You left Simon and Kaylee for the Reavers?" Mal asked, turning his head slightly to look Jayne right in the eye. "You let the Reavers have two of my crew and you did nothing to stop it?"
"Mal, please." Jayne said. "There were thirty or forty of 'em! What was I supposed to do?"
"Maybe someday you should try thinking about other people for once." Mal said. He grabbed the closest speaker. "Wash, turn around. We're going back."
"What?" Wash asked. "Mal, Jayne said there were Reavers and honestly, I'm pretty partial to keeping my skin where it is."
"The Reavers have Simon and Kaylee." Mal said.
Mal and Jayne could feel Serenity slow and turn around. Mal simply stared at Jayne the whole time.
"Dammit Mal! You're gonna get us all killed!" Jayne yelled.
"Maybe," Mal said. "But at least we're gonna die trying to get our people back."
As the ship landed near where Jayne said he had left the other two, every gathered their guns and equipment.
"Jayne, would you be so kind as to lead the way?" Mal asked.
Jayne wasn't sure he wanted Mal behind him, but he didn't have much choice. "Sure, Mal. This way."
They trekked for about fifteen minutes before spotting a gang of Reavers.
"What I tell you, Mal? Huh? Reavers." Jayne said.
"I don't see Kaylee or Simon." Zoe said.
"Probably because they're dead." Jayne said. He immediately regretted it. "Sorry."
"You're gonna be sorry you keep talking the way you're talking." Mal said. "Let's go."
"Go?" Jayne asked. "Go where?"
"We're gonna find the people that you left behind." Mal said. He got up and started walking toward the Reavers.
"Mal! Wait!" Jayne said. "That's suicide."
"Better suicide than leaving someone behind." Zoe said. She exhaled deeply and followed Mal.
Jayne shook his head and followed the other two.
They were still a ways away when Zoe raised her rifle and shot one of the Reavers in the head. The rest of the clan turned toward her, so she shot another one. And another. And another. Seven in all before the clan realized they were being killed and rushed at Mal, Zoe and Jayne en masse.
Mal drew his revolver and slowly walked forward, firing precise shots, taking down the Reavers as they charged him.
Jayne raised Vera and unloaded a full clip into the Reavers in short bursts, taking down over a dozen Reavers. But there always seemed to be more. When Vera went empty, Jayne turned and ran.
"Jayne!" Mal yelled. He turned to fire on Jayne, but the Reaveres caught up to him and dragged him down. Zoe went down a second later.
Jayne watched the whole thing from the top of the hill. He threw a grenade down the hill, hoping it killed Mal and Zoe before the Reavers could do anything too bad to them, but once the grenade was out of his hand, he ran and ran. He didn't head for Serenity, he just ran.
When he finally stopped and found a cave to rest in, Jayne kept remembering the faces of Mal and Zoe. When he tried to sleep, he was haunted by their screams and the screams of Kaylee and Simon. He would never be able to forgive himself. But there was nothing he could do.
Again, this was tough to write. Even as a mercenary and mostly a jerkass, I can't really see Jayne leaving Mal and Zoe behind, although I could see him leaving Simon behind, like he tried to sell out Simon and River in 'The Message.'
So, a successful morning entry is done and out of the way. *Edit* It's now 11:06 pm in Colorado, so I guess this still counts as Day 17. Weirdness happened. Go fig.
So, for tomorrow, the exercise is:
13. A character is crossing the road. Something bad happens. Describe it. No -- don't let it just be
a car striking them. Too easy. Dig deeper. Once you find the conflict, add another. And another.
Each conflict must be worse than the last. Escalate, escalate, escalate.
Hm. Lots of death and destruction lately in the exercises. Chuck is a weird man.
Anyway, that's going to do it for Day 17. We're past the halfway point. The end is in sight. Until tomorrow, I am the Ogre saying take care and be awesome to each other.
#WWWYKI
Well, let's get this road on the show! (Yes, I know I have that backwards)
What is today's topic?
24. Create tension by writing a scene where a character you adore does something you hate.
I had problems with this one when I did it before, because it took me a while to come up with a character I liked enough to write something that I hated that they did. I picked Pete Lattimer from Warehouse 13 the last time. I think I have an idea for this time. Let's see how it works.
Yeah, this doesn't really fit in with the timeline of the show/movie at all. Just roll with it. Maybe it's a dream or something.
"You did what?" Mal asked.
Mal hadn't yelled or screamed or any of that nonsense. That made Jayne more nervous. "Mal, they was Reavers! There was nothing I could do!" Jayne said.
"You left Simon and Kaylee for the Reavers?" Mal asked, turning his head slightly to look Jayne right in the eye. "You let the Reavers have two of my crew and you did nothing to stop it?"
"Mal, please." Jayne said. "There were thirty or forty of 'em! What was I supposed to do?"
"Maybe someday you should try thinking about other people for once." Mal said. He grabbed the closest speaker. "Wash, turn around. We're going back."
"What?" Wash asked. "Mal, Jayne said there were Reavers and honestly, I'm pretty partial to keeping my skin where it is."
"The Reavers have Simon and Kaylee." Mal said.
Mal and Jayne could feel Serenity slow and turn around. Mal simply stared at Jayne the whole time.
"Dammit Mal! You're gonna get us all killed!" Jayne yelled.
"Maybe," Mal said. "But at least we're gonna die trying to get our people back."
As the ship landed near where Jayne said he had left the other two, every gathered their guns and equipment.
"Jayne, would you be so kind as to lead the way?" Mal asked.
Jayne wasn't sure he wanted Mal behind him, but he didn't have much choice. "Sure, Mal. This way."
They trekked for about fifteen minutes before spotting a gang of Reavers.
"What I tell you, Mal? Huh? Reavers." Jayne said.
"I don't see Kaylee or Simon." Zoe said.
"Probably because they're dead." Jayne said. He immediately regretted it. "Sorry."
"You're gonna be sorry you keep talking the way you're talking." Mal said. "Let's go."
"Go?" Jayne asked. "Go where?"
"We're gonna find the people that you left behind." Mal said. He got up and started walking toward the Reavers.
"Mal! Wait!" Jayne said. "That's suicide."
"Better suicide than leaving someone behind." Zoe said. She exhaled deeply and followed Mal.
Jayne shook his head and followed the other two.
They were still a ways away when Zoe raised her rifle and shot one of the Reavers in the head. The rest of the clan turned toward her, so she shot another one. And another. And another. Seven in all before the clan realized they were being killed and rushed at Mal, Zoe and Jayne en masse.
Mal drew his revolver and slowly walked forward, firing precise shots, taking down the Reavers as they charged him.
Jayne raised Vera and unloaded a full clip into the Reavers in short bursts, taking down over a dozen Reavers. But there always seemed to be more. When Vera went empty, Jayne turned and ran.
"Jayne!" Mal yelled. He turned to fire on Jayne, but the Reaveres caught up to him and dragged him down. Zoe went down a second later.
Jayne watched the whole thing from the top of the hill. He threw a grenade down the hill, hoping it killed Mal and Zoe before the Reavers could do anything too bad to them, but once the grenade was out of his hand, he ran and ran. He didn't head for Serenity, he just ran.
When he finally stopped and found a cave to rest in, Jayne kept remembering the faces of Mal and Zoe. When he tried to sleep, he was haunted by their screams and the screams of Kaylee and Simon. He would never be able to forgive himself. But there was nothing he could do.
Again, this was tough to write. Even as a mercenary and mostly a jerkass, I can't really see Jayne leaving Mal and Zoe behind, although I could see him leaving Simon behind, like he tried to sell out Simon and River in 'The Message.'
So, a successful morning entry is done and out of the way. *Edit* It's now 11:06 pm in Colorado, so I guess this still counts as Day 17. Weirdness happened. Go fig.
So, for tomorrow, the exercise is:
13. A character is crossing the road. Something bad happens. Describe it. No -- don't let it just be
a car striking them. Too easy. Dig deeper. Once you find the conflict, add another. And another.
Each conflict must be worse than the last. Escalate, escalate, escalate.
Hm. Lots of death and destruction lately in the exercises. Chuck is a weird man.
Anyway, that's going to do it for Day 17. We're past the halfway point. The end is in sight. Until tomorrow, I am the Ogre saying take care and be awesome to each other.
#WWWYKI
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)