My mother was a cleaning lady, cleaning other people’s homes. Our own home was never so clean – her boyfriends never picked up after themselves. Our own home was filthy, and I couldn’t stand to be there. My own home is spotless, not a blemish to be seen.
Things are really exciting at Creo Somnium right now because I had a new story idea, and I’m also working on it in a different way than I have in the past. I’m doing more planning than I used to do, when I would just sit down and write and end of with a splintered story.
The theme or moral of the story is to trust your instincts – your brain and intuition.
“Excuse me,” she said quietly, preparing to dart out the bookstore doorway. Instead, he held the door open for her. “After you,” he said cordially.
“By the power vested in me by the moon and stars, I now pronounce you husband and wife.” The shaman’s final blessing, tossed about on the buffeting winds, was the last restraint from her rose petal lips. He beamed at his bride, their faces close.
This is something new that trying, in effort to practice brevity. Thoughts? (These italicized words don’t count as my 10 🙂 )
Wee Evelyn awoke from her afternoon nap and blinked into the afternoon sunlight, trying to orient herself. The unmoving puppy Pa was there, the blanket ja-ja was there… where was her ninny, her pacifier?
Clutching ja-ja ever tighter, she looked down, hoping to spot it down by her feet. She kicked aside the bootie that had come off her foot to clear out a potential hiding place, to no avail. She exchanged a worried glance with Pa, who told her with a look that he didn’t know where it was either.
148 words, and I think this may become part of something else. What do you think of the story?
Once upon a time, there was a little boy who had the chicken pox. This was one lucky boy, though, for his parents won the Doctor Drawing (as it was later called by the Wordsmiths) on the first try! He went to the clinic with his parents, and got medicine to help with the itching. A week later, he went back for a check-up
This is SOO helpful! The writers I love the most have fantastic detail in their stories, but I struggle when I try to emulate them. Good tips
We often hear that we should “show, not tell” — that we should paint a detailed picture for our reader that lets them see what’s happening, rather than simply narrating.
Easier said than done! All details are not created equal: some detail throws a barrier between the reader and your story, and some detail is (ironically) not detailed enough. How do you tell whether a detail helps or hurts? Here are four things to keep in mind when you’re writing descriptively, and some writers who illustrate them perfectly.
Good detail is relevant.
Including every detail is the written equivalent of your friend who can never get to the point of a story because he can’t remember if it happened on Tuesday or Wednesday, or if it was 1 PM or 2 PM, or if the car was red or blue. Good detail is relevant to the point of your post.
Writer beware! Not…
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Reclining, he considered his proposal. The thought of her lips curving into a smile at the sight of the ring made his heart pound.
His fingers still burned raw from where he had scrubbed. Blood really does stain; even skin.
Another stab at flash fiction! Whatchu think?
Years of battle over an idea had dwarfed nations, slain charismatic leaders and laid waste to Earthly bounty. Before these last remaining ruins of humanity disappeared, another desperate idea finally appeared, one on which they could all agree.
A run to the death.
The strongest warriors of remaining tribes began a final test that would make Pheidippides weep with equal parts pride and dismay. A battle waged of sinew, sweat and stamina, as warriors literally chased death in the only measure adequate to determine the strength of their belief. As the number of racers dwindled, hearts were lodged in throats as minds were myopically unified on a single question: “Whose belief is superior?”
The final answer was found in the unexpected sight of the remaining warriors finishing the race unified, side by side. They nudged the world into reconciliation with a single word before death: “Enough.”
No final victor, only a victor’s final command.