Robin Hawke

Thinking of NaNoWriMo
October 31, 2011, 3:21 PM
Filed under: Quotations | Tags: , , , ,

All writers are vain, selfish, and lazy, and at the very bottom of their motives there lies a mystery. Writing a book is a horrible, exhausting struggle, like a long bout of some painful illness. One would never undertake such a thing if one were not driven on by some demon whom one can neither resist nor understand. For all one knows that demon is simply the same instinct that makes a baby squall for attention. And yet it is also true that one can write nothing readable unless one constantly struggles to efface one’s own personality. Good prose is like a windowpane.

—George Orwell

Evaluate Motives: NaNo is a jumpstart, the end draft a beginning place.

Goal for NaNo: Write clear glass prose.

Prep for NaNo: Gesso!

(I think I’m crazy, but I’m going to start a painting. I know I’ll need to incubate–if I paint, maybe stuff will move around in my head enough so that I can write another thousand words.)

October 31, 2011, 1:28 PM
Filed under: Three Sentence Stories

They went to the Halloween party dressed as accident victims. Gobs of red shoe polish looked like blood against the white bandages that entombed them. Best Costume winners, they hated their garb, unable to drink or speak to friends.

October 30, 2011, 2:57 PM
Filed under: Three Sentence Stories

The pattern pieces came from an old shirt, a flowered dress, a nightgown. They were stitched together by hand so the seams puckered. Tracy, her daughter, didn’t notice the love as she tripped on the pattern.

October 29, 2011, 5:58 PM
Filed under: All Writing Challenges | Tags: ,

I look like a piece of ginger: stubs and stumps. The hole where my mouth used to be is stuffed with tubes.

Doctors prod me, amazed I remain alive. I object the only way left me: I grant mystical experiences should their flesh touch mine; in return, I gobble intellect, although I leave my nurses alone. Fellow scientists dismiss the transcendent epiphanies, label their colleagues quacks. They come to my bedside; I swipe their brains clean too. A line of pilgrims forms in the hallway. All Souls’ Day approaches—the day the visits end.

Come all, soothe my naked brow.

Read entries to the prompt...scare me...

October 29, 2011, 2:35 PM
Filed under: Three Sentence Stories

Listen. I woke up this morning and I couldn’t hear the coffee maker. Or anything else.

October 28, 2011, 3:16 PM
Filed under: All Writing Challenges | Tags: , ,

Steve was the bold one; he hid an old stick of dynamite near the entrance to our clubhouse, our secret Keep Out Or Else. Later, I knew right where to hide the diamonds. Knew it like I knew the dusty path from Steve’s house to mine.

There’s a checkmark on my file, one that says I’ve paid twenty years to society. I wait, patient, drive home a year later. Jex Blake Road is gone—replaced with miles of  suburban cul-de-sacs and empty look-alike homes. And, they destroyed the abandoned mine—made it a lake. Hope Steve leveled someone.

Flash Friday

Click to read entries and see photo prompt...

October 28, 2011, 1:20 PM
Filed under: Three Sentence Stories

Patricia placed a personal that asked, Which would you choose, an Eames or a Thonet?—expecting no response from the ignorant. The Eames, those would get one date, maybe two. She waited for Mr. Thonet.

October 27, 2011, 3:27 PM
Filed under: All Writing Challenges | Tags: , ,

I carved the sign first, chiseled the letters HOMELESS in birch.

Something wonderful happened, word spread. People dropped by with blankets and food. They offered to lend a hand with labor. The local newspaper picked up the story, provided daily updates; the story went national. Before I knew it, an organization mushroomed, with schedules, volunteers and timelines. My comfortable abode was built in less than a month, moved by truck.

I entered the cage, prepared to live in protest. That’s when everything stalled. I could have my free speech, but lacked the permit to erect a structure on public property.

Cross-wired the rules, oops…discovered only 100 words after posting…

Click to read more...Inspiration Monday & prompts...

October 27, 2011, 2:49 PM
Filed under: Three Sentence Stories

Rick, a landscape painter, studied the sun coming up. He noted the muted, sandy colors of this dawn, similar to yesterday’s and the days’ before, the days’ before.  Rick spurned the desert vista, Never, even though the accompanying silence heralded the end of war.


I’ve had a busy week!


My third book, Recommending Honey, ($0.99) is now live,  in Amazon’s ebook store. I wrote this one, a clean romance, in honor of my nieces. It’s about a realtor who is always intruding, opining and matchmaking. If you enjoy it, please consider writing a review.

***end of promotion, back to blogging***

October 26, 2011, 1:50 PM
Filed under: Three Sentence Stories

The mower conked out near a shrub. Abandoned, its  metallic smell guarded against local wildlife–except for nesting mice. Two years later, the old shrub finally became a tree.

Long Nights
October 25, 2011, 2:41 PM
Filed under: All Writing Challenges | Tags: , ,

I watched television until my eyelids drifted; I read until my chin bounced; I left every light, every bulb on. To stay awake.

Every morning, tired as I was, I did my thing. The grumps visited me but my veggie meals were wholesome, sustaining me through arguments with boss, mom, and the finale with my boyfriend. Clearly, I needed sleep.

Not sleeping, not waking, I manipulated my nightmare, superimposed a dream. The hamburger meat I craved, the thick buns, the juicy fat that fueled desire—I tweaked ingredients until the hamburger became a rancid sculpture. Withdrawal never tasted so bad.

100 Words for Grown Ups

The prompt this week is: …Vegetarian POV….Click to read entries.

A Week of Six Word Stories, October 18-24
October 25, 2011, 1:20 PM
Filed under: Six Word Stories

The marriage flourished: reverse-engineered love.

Jet lagged, she threw herself. Home.

Anonymous missive. Flattered, she awaited another.

One molecule. Her love—one atom.

A reprieve, my bald one. Rest.

Pilot seeks anyone serious, young, faithful.

The widow collected frogs, shells, antiques.

Link to related posts.

(These stories were posted, one by one, on DIY Romance, where you will find more six word stories. Feel free to submit your own.)

October 25, 2011, 1:02 PM
Filed under: Three Sentence Stories

Michael filed into the assembly hall with his class. They all thought the same: it was fall asleep stuff; stuff that belonged to another time, not to them. The fights, the malice, the betrayals, the strange jokes wrapped him around to take another look at Shakespeare’s plays.

Deadlines and NaNoWriMo
October 24, 2011, 8:45 PM
Filed under: All Writing Challenges, Emotions, Life and Stuff | Tags: , ,

I’m imagining the participants of NaNoWriMo, all us writers, staring at our desks in horror. A horror that will grow through Halloween night.

The practical, bills and groceries, last edits, and the impractical, dazed thoughts, are bumping one another, screaming for attention.

I’m resisting the dazed thoughts. I want to experience my first NaNo without predetermination. Despite the severity of my intent, incubation begins, immediately followed by, “Oh, no…to do, to do, to do…”

October 24, 2011, 8:21 PM
Filed under: Quotations

To have a full stomach, to daze lazily in the sunshine–such things were remuneration in full for his adors and toils, while his ardors and toils were in themselves self-remunerative. They were expressions of life, and life is always happy when it is expressing itself.

—Jack London, from White Fang

October 24, 2011, 3:10 PM
Filed under: Three Sentence Stories

A little bird told me to throw his belongings out the apartment window. Medicine, hair gel, bathrobe…everything went. I even threw his corduroy armchair down the stairs before I fed my parrot.

October 23, 2011, 5:41 PM
Filed under: All Writing Challenges | Tags: ,

The heavy doors opened at eleven each morning. Visitors turned left to stand in line, took every allotted second of fifteen minutes to prowl cyberspace. They departed without exploring, without wondering what else occupied the magnificent edifice.

The corridors on the right stayed quiet, day and night. Despite the dearth of humans, the place remained a revered sanctuary. A few, humans who trespassed the aisles, found refuge.

Ignored by people, the library corridors filled with invisible crowds.  The ghosts in the stacks particularly treasured imagination. They poured themselves into substantial books, filling their empty souls with the languages of dreams.

Read entries to "quiet" prompt.

October 23, 2011, 4:31 PM
Filed under: Three Sentence Stories

Scribble, scribble, the scribbles filled page after page of her chemistry book. She decorated the scribbles with flowers and doodles. His last name, her first.

October 22, 2011, 1:33 PM
Filed under: Three Sentence Stories

Sally looked at the man at the bar and thought, Would he do?  The next morning she found out he had a family. It wasn’t until his confession that she thought, Why wouldn’t he?

October 21, 2011, 3:46 PM
Filed under: All Writing Challenges | Tags: ,

The artifact topped the shrine in his studio, one marble in a growing collection. The orb inspired him.

Jason adjusted his flame, reached for a stick of white glass. When the glass glowed, became transparent, runny, his free hand dipped in green water, searched for the slimy mold; its contact with molten glass produced the enticing smell of burnt cherry. Next, his creation rode the edge of the flame in constant revolution, maintaining its spherical perfection while a scatter of colored glass melted smooth. The following day, Jason sandblasted his creation with coarse grit—until it became one more copy.

Flash Friday

Click to read entries and see photo prompt...

October 21, 2011, 1:46 PM
Filed under: Three Sentence Stories

Jessica followed the windy road, drove until she began to feel her anger dissipate. Racing around familiar curves, she barely used the brake. Crumbs, when would she remember to fill the tank with gas before an argument?

October 20, 2011, 3:26 PM
Filed under: All Writing Challenges

Shots are fired, but we don’t take any casualties.  Taking cover, we keep moving by following the creek; it’s downhill and nearby vegetation provides cover. The water tastes good. I’m surprised—we’re getting close. I scream as I grab a young female, push her forward. Some of the new ones don’t always maintain the pace. I give a battle cry, am echoed by my troops. Our fervent cries inspire fear.

The vocal exchange reminds the troops we are a pack with a single purpose. We pick up the clip until we reach our target. Quietly we clamber up the hill on all fours. I motion to some trees and several troops skinny up into place. Taking cover behind a rover, I keep a lookout. The target surrounded, we’re primed to take the offensive. When a window cracks or a door slides open, we’ll be inside within minutes.

Imprisoned indoors, the elderly woman watched the hornbills fly away and the congress of baboons circle. She hoped she had enough food. Those monkeys would starve her out of the house if they camped for more than a week.

Click to read more...Inspiration Mondays...breaking into prison

October 20, 2011, 1:38 PM
Filed under: Three Sentence Stories

On the ice rink, Kara mirrored his motions with precision, the perfect partner. At night, she responded, tormenting him with a lack of initiative. Love was not a Rorschach test.

October 19, 2011, 2:01 PM
Filed under: Three Sentence Stories

“Hello Dr. Thomas. How are you?”

Stella wished he would answer the question, not the exact one out of his mouth.

The Autumn Leaves
October 18, 2011, 2:44 PM
Filed under: All Writing Challenges | Tags: , ,

The imperturbable oaks answered the fitful wind and loosened a flurry of golden leaves. The young maple clutched one scarlet leaf, the leaf that budded the day of the cat and the quicker lizard. The smell of chimney smoke surrounded all. Branches shook; leaves drifted; trees remembered;  memories swirled aground.

100 Words for Grown Ups

The prompt this week is: …the autumn leaves….Click to read entries.

A Week of Six Word Stories, October 11-17
October 18, 2011, 1:46 PM
Filed under: Six Word Stories

David fumbled with words, not meaning.

Apprehensive, worried, Mike turns on television.

Terence and Lily endured. Ten days.

First kiss, fancy; second, giggles, better.

Their relationship was one long monologue.

How you talk to me? Enough.

An inner song began. Old tune.

Link to related posts.

(These stories were posted, one by one, on DIY Romance, where you will find more six word stories. Feel free to submit your own.)

Always Fighting
October 18, 2011, 1:41 PM
Filed under: Three Sentence Stories

Every night Sissy came home with cuts and bruises. She waved her mom away, “It’s harmless…fun.” Her mother left antiseptic cream by her daughter’s bed, proud Sissy was a team player, prouder the team was boys’ hockey.

NaNoWriMo Hoops

I signed up.

I’ve practiced…I’ve stood in place, bent my knees. I’ve kept my eye focused on the basket. Bend, bend. It’s rather a bouncy bend, somewhat satisfying. (Okay, the dribbles in between the bends are even more fun.)

Last night, I let go of the ball and lobbed it toward the basket. I followed through; I signed up, added my name to a long list of participating writers.

Anxious, I await the results of throwing words at paper, though all I expect is a count, 50,000 words by the end of November.

I’m not planning; I’m not plotting. I’m following through. I’m leaving my hand in the air, my wrist cocked until the ball whoofs through the net. Somewhere the score will climb, word by word. Some words I will stick, others not so much. They’ll all add up.

Then? I’ll run after that ball. collect it, go back to the line. Bend my knees. I won’t forget the backspin.

NaNoWriMo 2011

October 17, 2011, 1:07 PM
Filed under: Quotations

Love never dies a natural death. It dies because we don’t know how to replenish its source. It dies of blindness and errors and betrayals. It dies of illness and wounds; it dies of weariness, of witherings, of tarnishings.

—Anaïs Nin