(Over a hundred words, but I can't edit, I've gotta sleep.)

Holiday World

The joy of slides and bouncing balls is forgotten. He turns his back sullenly to his impatient aunt; he doesn't want her to see his face, screwed up with the effort.

His sister has tried to help, "He doesn't quite do it yet. He needs help." But it is too late. He cannot ask for help now. His aunt has presented him with his shoes, and he must soldier on alone.

A loop, around, but then it slips again. He growls with frustration, and pushes away her fumbling adult hands. She says, "Look, I'll just guide you," but he can't abide it, and she can't wait forever.

Then, miracle of miracles, there it is. Not quite even, and who knows how long it will last, but there it is. His aunt doesn't even understand the achievement. When she tells his mother later, she'll be shocked. "He did it? He tied his shoes?" And he did.

Writing energy is just crackling in here. Miss you all. I'm on (very) slow dialup at MIL's so essentially just waving. Beautiful beautiful drabbles, all.

I love them all, such amazing bits and pieces of color and life. Great drabbles.

First time drabble

The hall smells stale, like rotting pb&j and moldy notebooks. And that carpet, god! Did every school in America buy that same dingy orange to soak up whatever spilled or splattered or bled into it?

Oh gross. Don't think about it.

My shoulder is going numb from the weight of the bag slung over my arm, and it is every Monday I have ever slunk reluctant through school doors at 7AM. Every Monday spent walking the halls, waiting for class to start. Every Monday, except this Monday is the first.

My key, newly minted, scrapes into the classroom door.

Oh, those are gorgeous!

Susan, can I make one editing suggestion? In the first drabble, can I suggest a phrase swap, for a punchier ending?

Right now, you've got it as:

She feels the pony quiver with life beneath her, and when she sees how far the ground is, she is exhilarated, not frightened. She laughs.

Just my take, but I kept wanting to read this as:

She feels the pony quiver with life beneath her, and when she sees how far the ground is, she laughs. She is exhilarated, not frightened.

deb, I like that. Edited. And I should really remember to post these on the LJ, too.

Susan, thanks - it was the mentally wanting to flop the action (her laughter) for the feeling (her exhilaration), which in some way, I guess, is a sense of cause followed by effect, rather than vice versa.

edit: boy, was that not clear. Just that, for good dramatic effect, inverting the usual logic generally seems to me to work more effectively: the author shows the action, the reader goes whuzzah and takes ten seconds to react him or herself, and then author gives the reader the why of it.

I like writing. It's good.

Hmm. That makes sense.

Hmm. That makes sense.

Here comes a quickie rumination.

It does for me, anyway. Because essentially, whatever visual creativity I've got is at the minor, hardest-to-access end of my creative scale; I can draw it with words, or play it with music, but things like photography, sculpture, painting, drawing, I suck at - I have no real access to that creative path.

But writing, especially the show not tell variety, has got to really paint those pictures. Thing is, the pictures won't be the same for any two people, readers, writer, anyone at all. So for me, getting the reader to subconsciously wonder what their own landscape of a scene is going to look like a half-second before they actually envision it is a nice bit of trickery: drawing them into it.

Saves a lot of grief.

First time drabble

“Stop moving.”

“You nearly stabbed me in the eye!”

“No I didn’t. Look up. Okay, now close it.”

“I can’t believe you do this every day.”

A rustling noise as one implement is set down, another picked up.

“You are such a wuss. Open your eyes.”

“You’re not done yet?”

“You can’t wear eyeliner without mascara. It looks unbalanced. Stop blinking!”

I turn him around to face the mirror. The smudged black outlining one eye makes the other one seem a paler blue; oddly naked and almost vulnerable.

“Wow.”

“So, you like it?”

“Yeah. Do the other one.”