Yep - Anne's is a good one. So is the idea of not revealing whether it was suicide or murder until the end, if at all. I like leaving my readers with some ambiguity, but I like leaving the characters with it even more: did he fall or was he pushed, let the reader decide, don't let the characters know for sure.
Oh, smacked in the noggin with a 2x4 wrapped in velvet. Yeah, that's what it felt like.
Lorne ,'Smile Time'
The Great Write Way, Chapter Two: Twice upon a time...
A place for Buffistas to discuss, beta and otherwise deal and dish on their non-fan fiction projects.
deborah grabien - Jul 08, 2005 2:07:06 pm PDT #3079 of 10001
It really doesn't matter. It's just an opinion. Don't worry about it. Not worth the hassle.
erikaj - Jul 08, 2005 2:11:34 pm PDT #3080 of 10001
Always Anti-fascist!
Yeah, well, that part could be simple enough because in the first book(I love saying that!) I set up that father and daughter had not been speaking much at the time of his death.
deborah grabien - Jul 09, 2005 10:38:03 am PDT #3081 of 10001
It really doesn't matter. It's just an opinion. Don't worry about it. Not worth the hassle.
Hard one. Harder than usual, believe it or not.
Heroin (One Question I Never Asked Him)
You tie off, first. It forces the vein up to the surface, makes it easy to hit, yeah? Right there, blue, pulsing away, alive.
Get your works together, cut it, mix it, take the strength up or down. Straight into the vein.
The rush - bloody hell, so hard, so fast. Doesn't matter if you're sick - it can't fucking touch you. It's you and the moon. And the sex? With that shit, I could fuck you for hours, leave you begging me for a few hours more. Brilliant shit.
Help me stop, love, will you? I need to stop.
deborah grabien - Jul 11, 2005 12:13:55 pm PDT #3082 of 10001
It really doesn't matter. It's just an opinion. Don't worry about it. Not worth the hassle.
Topic?
Tep?
Steph L. - Jul 11, 2005 4:37:27 pm PDT #3083 of 10001
I look more rad than Lutheranism
Sorry! Me slow. And I took a nap after work. My brain is all foggy.
However!
It is drabble time once again, and with it, you get a small glimpse into the inner workings of my weird mind.
Challenge #65 (blood) is now closed.
For challenge #66, the number itself made me start humming Nat King Cole ("Route 66"), which led to this week's topic: driving.
Please keep both hands on the wheel.
Lyra Jane - Jul 12, 2005 5:28:07 am PDT #3084 of 10001
Up with the sun
Steph, if I thought you read my LiveJournal I would think that was just for me.
(Yes, I have issues. Which may turn into a drabble.)
deborah grabien - Jul 12, 2005 7:45:54 am PDT #3085 of 10001
It really doesn't matter. It's just an opinion. Don't worry about it. Not worth the hassle.
Dude. I love my car.
Play THIS!
In the left turn lane, going home.
Next to me, through lane: four boys, driving their mama's tarted-up Mitsubishi Eclipse: spinner wheels, chrome trim, overamped bass system. They're pumping hiphop: bump BADA bump; to my ears, BORING bada DUMB. I glare.
They're amused - crank it! piss off the old white lady! Oh, infants, you have no idea...
I lower Ripper's passenger window. They open their mouths.
I turn the volume up - it's an 8-speaker Bose - and hit CD-play. Tool: I KNOW THE PIECES FIT! They're so surprised, they pop their clutch.
I flip them off, and keep on driving.
Connie Neil - Jul 12, 2005 8:06:20 am PDT #3086 of 10001
brillig
Ha. That reminds me of the day I drove past a Mormon church on a Sunday with "Highway to Hell" blasting.
ChiKat - Jul 12, 2005 8:09:11 am PDT #3087 of 10001
That man was going to shank me. Over an omelette. Two eggs and a slice of government cheese. Is that what my life is worth?
to my ears, BORING bada DUMB
Oh hell yeah! One day, deb, one day I will have a car that I can do that with. I look forward to that day.
Connie Neil - Jul 12, 2005 8:26:27 am PDT #3088 of 10001
brillig
1 AM, Sunday morning, no cars around. Atop the hill south of Camp Williams the urban world falls away. The cankerous subdivisions are ten years in the future, and the nearest building ahead of me is five miles away. Unreclaimed desert grasslands surround me.
The full moon lights the dead straight, empty road flowing down the long slope ahead.
I roll down the windows and turn off the radio to hear the wind and the crickets, then I ease into the center of the road, straddling the two lanes. The headlights go off, and I slide the gearshift into neutral. If someone coming my way is likeways running dark, we'll never see each other in time.
I dream of it sometimes, flying in the dark.