Thanks, Wolfram. Great title.
'Smile Time'
The Great Write Way, Act Three: Where's the gun?
A place for Buffistas to discuss, beta and otherwise deal and dish on their non-fan fiction projects.
I didn't have thoughts on the color(Although I'd love to make the designers of the horrible onesies see red, but I still wrote about Pink. 100 words, exactly. Her voice, wounded yet resilient, asked us “Who Knew?” from the stereo it had taken us three months to put together. Once again, I knew whatever I knew from observing other people’s pain. It wasn’t quite that I wanted some for myself, exactly, some radioactive time or date to tread carefully around, some name that was often on my mind but almost never on my lips. Just, at some point, it should be time, shouldn’t it? Time to leave the emotional kiddie pool of imagining lives with people who only recently learned I existed. Whoever knew, it wasn’t me.
Mmm, good one.
Good one, erika.
Very nice way to work Pink into it, erika. Suits the mood of the piece completely.
Seriously. That was awesome. (Also, I love that song.)
Me too. My mother relates to it more because she thought she'd found a husband to be her best friend, but then he cracked up and stuff and we found out that some of those late nights weren't about work.(And then, of course, you can never be sure how many, right?)
I did it again. Sorry.
This week's prompt is late.
I live my life late.
I'm punctual; it's just that --
my mind lives in night.
Even though I’m not that old, there are already things it’s too late for.Some are ridiculous, like teen stardom, some are heartwarming/corny, like marrying my childhood sweetheart(although I started late to even have one) At least, I can’t ever be on “Teen Mom”, there are things to be said for late blooming. I try to focus on the present moment, although sometimes it makes me feel like an older woman wearing a younger woman’s mental clothes.I tell myself I won’t miss my chance again, but will I know it when I see it? I hope so.