It's funny isn't it? The one I slave over, people are "Eh." But something I toss up out of boredom or delirum and people just don't get enough Your secret agent tries to be prepared for everything, Connie. I have no idea what to write.
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.
(blinking)
(going back to look)
connie, yours came up last before a flurry of posts, and I didn't even see it.
I like that. Having met the young woman in question, it sketches her out quite nicely, thanks.
Happy whiny needy pouting writer, now.
She leaned against the sink, scrabbling in her purse for the pill bottle at the bottom. She poured the contents into her hand and picked through the multicolored pile, choosing a red-and-white capsule and two white pills, one oblong and one round, and washing them down by tipping back the bottle of Maalox. She rearranged the purse's contents to try to get the bottles back in, shifting the Kleenex package, Swiss Army knife, glasses case, Jennifer Crusie novel, cell phone, pens, bottle opener and notebook, plus the folded-up printout with the information for the EMTs and the emergency contact numbers.
Back from the dinner/homework/bedtime rituals...
Wow, these are all great. Another fabulous topic, Ms. Moderator. And now for a mini-meara:
Connie, I love the detail in yours. As Deb said, especially since I met her (briefly).
Deb, the Ringan/Penny one is dead-on in terms of character, but the Erica Road piece is absolutely heartbreaking.
Call me dumb...who's Tim O'Brien? Whoever he may be, that's a wonderful little piece, Susan. The last line is perfect. ETA: Ah! Him. I should read that.
Erin, that's fantastic -- love the exploded eyeshadow. And, as Bev pointed out, the inhaler and cigs in "detente" rocks.
Ginger, yours is great, too -- the juxtaposition of the very, very practical (Swiss Army knife, meds, Kleenex, EMT info -- with the Crusie novel, for fun and escape.
Nothing is out of place in her purse. Pens and pencils in a black mesh zip case, money in a green zip case, makeup (Chanel lipstick and Kiehl lip balm) in a red zip case, credit cards in a blue zip case. The cell phone pocket holds her leather-bound appointment calendar (this year's is pink, which displeases her, but Neiman's likes to follow trends). Bandaids, antiseptic wipes, and a linen handkerchief reside in the purse's inside zipper compartment.
Most importantly, the newest issue of Ultimate X-Men is ready at hand for when she finally has a few minutes to herself.
She chews her thumb absently as she digs into his pocket.
Leather. Still warm. Cash, yes. Credit cards, shiny and too traceable, no. Okay, maybe the black one - she's never seen one like that before. She pauses at the driver's license - out of town, with an undeniably suburban address. His tiny photo of the family is very picket fence.
A note telling him to call Lola soon, faded and creased. Another has Susie's number. She frowns and kicks him with her toe.
A key! She pockets it with delight. It might fit the case he dropped when her bullets hit.
Same Purse, 12 Years Ago
The bag left careless and forlorn under the table holds evidence of a careless life. The bag, drizzled with strewn with drops of the world's finest rotgut vodka, is slightly sticky; a questing hand would need to worm its way through the tight-packed contents. Marlboro Lights, lighters -- two, three and one out. Battered calendar, marked with "B. for J 8 p.m." and "OE trans DUE" and spilling ATM slips fights for space with a journal: coffee-colored, coffee-stained.
Here's an almost empty tube of Chanel Vamp, carefully hoarded. A band flyer with scrawled directions to Omaha on the back. And a cellophane with a little pot and a couple of papers, tucked discreetly into the zip pocket with a trial-sized bottle of Scope and a crumpled and elderly condom.
Hmmmmm. Did I screw up? I mean, does actually having a scene using said objects violate the spirit of the drabble? Tep? Could you clarify?
(Sorry; I was at dinner and just now read this.)
Peoples! You may write whatever you wish -- you should know that by now! Lists are fine, scenes and dialogue are LOVELY, a descriptive passage is scrumptious -- anything!
Also, you should also know by now that drabbles over the 100-word limit are no big dealio. If your piece wants to be longer, let it be longer.
It's funny isn't it? The one I slave over, people are "Eh." But something I toss up out of boredom or delirum and people just don't get enough
Yeah, every time I post one and sit back and wait for the applause it gets ignored, and every time I think one is kinda weak, I get praised. Go figure. I'd say I'm no judge of my own writing, except that I'm getting better at predicting how my writers group and critique partners will react.