If it doesn't fit somewhere, it fits here...

Question

Having a bit of writer's block right now and I just wanged out a simple mess to get the juices flowing again.  It really doesn't fit into any of the challenges so I thought I would create a challenge for anyone who wants to write anything.  It could be your laundry list, a musical, the next great novel, or just random thoughts (which I love by the way).  No rules, no winners.

Comments

Ill just add this on as a "comment".  It is just another exorcism of my writing demons.

Handcrafted Romance

“You’ll never get a man,” Debbie’s mother screamed.  “Staying locked up in your room all the time will get you no where.”

Debbie crouched in a corner smoking a cigarette, the kind that makes your head feel woozy.  Between the weed,  pills and heavy doses of  alcohol Debbie was in a world all her own.  That’s the way she liked it, not bothered by life’s intricacies.  She only came out to get something to eat or go to the bathroom.  She rarely bathed or even dressed.  She was unkempt and she didn’t care.  What goes on outside her bedroom didn’t make any difference or sense to her.  She lived inside her mind, void of the luxury of human warmth, but rich in imagery.  “One can live in their mind, she said, and I shall.”

She had to sneak out once in awhile to re-supply her refuge.  On these journeys she would stick to a strict path from here to there and back again, not meandering physically or mentally.  The people she came in contact with had grown to know how to deal with her, do business then get out of the way.  She was on to her next stop.  After returning home she would crash into the corner of her room and her mind would dissolve into quicksand, lost then found, then lost again.

Snap a picture of a middle aged woman, naked, her hair floor length covering her crusty face and you have entered Debbie’s world.  A place inescapable even if she wanted to and she doesn’t.

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Well dang Doug - I'm impressed. Not by the writing but by the character. Character is my biggest deficit - I have trouble with them. But I feel I know Debbie now. I don't like her. But I am interested in her. And that's about the biggest compliment I can pay. Well done.

Answer 1

Think damn it!!!

Where is your head? Your mind can’t process even the simple idea of a plot theme or mash words together to make a paragraph.

Think.

Rounded hills relished by red haired robots. It makes no sense!

Life falls into disarray when mixed with adversity and laziness. Find the strength to challenge yourself.

Step it up!

Find your wings in waves of brain activity staring at a blank piece of paper.

Struggling.

No sense of purpose to put pen to paper; to hit keystrokes like I used to.

Jumbled words jabbing at my eyes; confusion without a conclusion.

Help! Blocked by what?

Time management, kids, career, psychological anomalies or just plain stupidity?

With each breath I take I find an inner peace. The solitude and fortitude to create magic.

Whisper…challenge the soul to entertain the mind through vocabulary. Recreate the majesty of life and blood through writing. The very purpose of one’s being caught on a white screen filled with black markings. Ideas turned into words flowing to the fingertips and transformed into a story or a mere expression of oneself. Such is the power of the written word or the thoughts brought forth by ones delicate meanderings through the folds and power points of the brain.

Interconnectivity balanced once again.

Relief… 

Comments

Doug.  That's happened to me and others.  My way out is to tell myself I don't HAVE to.  It's an opportunity to explore other cool stuff - like museums or people-watching in a park or cafe.  Maybe plunk around on a guitar.  It doesn't take long for the ol' Muse to return.  At least I have to stop tearing my hair out over it.  Good luck.

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you can't write if you're staring at a blank page.

here's the best cure for writer's block I've found: write something.

now, I hear you saying, "but that's the problem! I have writer's block so I can't write anything!"

Instead of telling me that, tell yourself this: It doesn't have to be good. It doesn't have to make sense. It just needs to be words on a page.

Write a sentence about what you did today. "This morning I slept in way too late, and I made coffee when I got up."

There! You have words on a page. Write another sentence: "I like my coffee strong."

Don't stop to think. Write words, put them on the page so you're not staring at blankness and wondering how to fill it.

You'll find that the creative juices flow better if there are words on the page, any words. And once they start flowing , write what you want to rather than just forcing words onto the paper.

Write -- don't think about it, just write. You can read it over and do the thinking after.

And like Giraffe said, don't make it work. Put words on a page to power through the block. Once the words are there and they knock that wall down, then the juices will flow.

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I once had an English teacher who had us write for 10 minutes straight about whatever came into our head.  She said we shouldn't try to do anything cohesive just start moving that pen and whatever random thought came to us write it down and let one idea lead to the next always writing, never let the pen stop no matter what meaningless drivel was pouring out on the page.  After we had done that she told us we were going to do an essay on some idea in our random writing.  It was a really interesting excersize and you would be surprised at how coherent the writing actually was.  It was basically the same as sitting down and letting your mind wander, except that you were putting it on paper.  Beauty cure for writer's block.

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Poet, I think that's exactly what doug did. And looks like it worked.

Answer 2

Breathe in, breathe out.

Breathe in, breathe out.

I did this for a while until my eyes started to close. I never noticed it happen, everything just sort of faded from view. Everything from my surroundings, that is.

Instead, my vision slowly got flooded by other images, some real, some completely imaginary.

And not just things. Concepts, ideas, sentences, conversations, they were all a part of the jumble that was now occupying my mind. But that only lasted for a few seconds (to the best of my estimate, since time was one of the things that eluded me at that point).

Slowly, seamlessly, it all went away and was replaced by a single though. One white thread on a canvas of black.

One idea.

And I wrote it down.

Comments

I didn't have writer's block. On the contrary, I was inspired by the topic and this just popped into my head. Since it's a free thread/challenge, I thought I'd write it down. Peace.

Answer 3

A.K.A

 

Like silk against my tongue

sharp yet smoothly flowing to a resting place of italian beauty,

you are sizzling heat in my mouth your mouth,

hot and golden when the sun has set,

a reminder of a winters night sprawled in front of a fireplace,

borne of italian heritage my capelli d'angelo,

you soothe my soul, reach my heart in perpetual bliss,

you will always be my first and last,

my only italian kiss.

You are my menage a trois tonight,

my one and only needs comfort i will give him you and me,

with the

the ciabatta  crusty and browned

warming in the oven,

the salad crisp and gleaming with a sharp reduction

jewelled red and green  with crumbles of creamy rapture,

the food of the olympic gods my salty smooch to you

the crowning glory to my planned seduction..

we will comfort and soothe his soul together,

as he has done countless times,

me and you,

the perfect dish,

capelli d'angelo and bechamel

a lovers dream,

i  predict,

sade crooning softly

will be the backdrop to his smile.

 

aka mac and cheese greek salad and bread for dinner tonight ....lol

Comments

Provokative and, yes, sensual.  Well done.

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I  must be tired.  This one just didn't have it for me.  Some of the lines seemed jumbled and ruined the flow like "you soothe my soul, reach my heart in perpetual bliss".  It didn't seem to fit where it was.  May just be me.

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soothe my soul perpetual bliss......angel hair pasta being soothing for my soul (like chicken soup for deb)and perpetual bliss being angel hair pasta.... as i feel angels have a whole lot of bliss so it is perpetual...... so in that instance so must their angel hair be perpetual bliss....smilin and for me angel hair pasta is bliss when in slinky sauce....my free verse is disjointed  i guess  it doesnt fit in any where but here......;0) its just a dinner plan in hope of getting lucky.....and it worked just maybe not in print......lol

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Then it does fit here!  Those are the "rules" I set forth, "If it doesn't fit somewhere, it fits here."  I guess I should remember my own challenge.  Good one art'.

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I forgive you.....lol.;0)..i like how you put up an unstructured pool to play in i am fond of the deconstructed....smilin.....deb

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I loved this, it was like a love affair and a dinner all in one.

Answer 4

commented 2 minutes ago by artofsensuality

Comments

Can agnostics go to heaven,
is there a heaven to go to,
or is heaven in the skill of the barista at my little coffee shop
in a little shopping niche,
that when I am there life becomes more than
I think therefore I am.
Where I watch a toddlers pure joy in owning a frankfurt  given freely
at the little butcher shop by a smiling butcher who knows the tots' name,
or the stamp on the hand from the post office shop shown proudly to anyone who will take a second to look.
try and get that from coles.
so therefore I have come to the conclusion there will be no coles in heaven 
thank god for that,
the line up and wait is far too long........

Answer 5

Note: I am horrible at making stories, but i get a good concept in my head. The problem is getting it out. Okay then this story is about my awesome friend being what she really should be.

P.S. Conflict is also one of the things im bad at so if you have any ideas go ahead and tell me.

P.S.S. I am not finished with the story yet, but if you have suggestions go for it.

Do You Really Know Your Best Friend

       It was the average day at middle school. You go to your locker and then go to

homeroom. Most people say school is a waste of time, but I think not. Hello, do

you like my introduction? I'm Dash Maple. If you didn't pshh I don't care i suck at

writting anyway, but lets get back to the story. ( I look like however you want me to

because if i tell you i might get in trouble with the agency) Where was I OH yes it

was a normal day and I was walking to homeroom. I was trying to get my friend

Molly's attention. She didn't hear me, but i say she droped a note. It said:

Atbash

Wvzi MZ Tivb,

Xlnv gl gsv svzwjfzigvih ZHZK. Gsv mvd xlwv rh drgsrm gsvhv wrivxgrlmh:
 
Wrhxlevi gsv gfmmvo zylev tilfmw zmw urmw gsv xlimvi yfimrmt drgs svzg. Nzpv hfiv mlylwb rh zilfmw zmw kfhs gsv xlimvi wldm. Gsv xlwv rh blfi xlwv mznv.

I know it made no sense, but then i remebered Atbash was a code and I deciphered it and it said:

Dear NA Grey,

Come to the headquarters ASAP. The new code is within these directions:
 
Discover the tunnel above ground and find the corner burning with heat. Make sure nobody is around and push the corner down. The code is your code name.

I thought it was kind of cool so I showed Lexie my other best friend and we talked

about it. Then at lunch we told Molly that the note was awesome and her face got

really red. Molly said she was embarresed that we saw it because it was

personal. We apologized and told her we wouldn't tell anyone else. After lunch Lexie and I went through the "Tunnel" (everyone at the school calls it that because

it’s narrow and has kind of low ceilings). We made it to the first corner and i felt

the wave of heat come over my foot. I stopped and knelt down to discover that

heat was really coming from there. I called for Lexie to come back and we both

looked at each other in one of those ways in which you know something is going

to happen. So I tried pushing the corner down and it went! Lexie and I turned

around to discover an elevator. We stepped inside and pressed the down arrow.

When we reached stopped there was a giant room with a giant doorway on the

other side of the room. (Please don't mind my describing details) Lexie pushed

me out of the elevator and then she carefully stepped out behind me. Then out of

nowhere this bulky, large, and metal robot come out of the doorway. We panic

and try to run into the elevator but it closed and wouldn't open. Lexie and I

screamed for help as the robot got closer oh so slowly. But then in less than two

seconds the robot was in pieces. And to our surprise Molly was standing with her

back to us slyly looking over her shoulder at

Comments

Keep writing...I would say you have a good foundation (idea) for a story and you should run with it.  I don't know how old you are, but you could use some help with grammar and punctuation.  The story needs some editing.  It seems to fly along even though it has long sentences and is a bit too wordy.

Answer 6

Certified........

Cry if you will

for your tears are unimportant as your existence,

fly if you must

for gravity does not care about your resistance,

rage if you can

for your life offers you no reward at the end,

submit if you dare

if indifference is the message that you send,

take your medication

to wash your self away in one bitter pill,

survive another day,

to cry if you must and know that you will,

be sad if you may,

because nothing will change,

it was always going to be that that way....

You were certified,

and know that you should have lied

there's always NEXT TIME.

Comments

great poem!!!!!!!

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Very well done, art.

Answer 7

“Dead Babies” by Ron

“Mister Thompson, Bill Caustic from CNN, how does it feel?”

“How does what feel?”

“Winning the Pulitzer?”

“I’m very proud of the story but I’m not sure it’s all this.”

“Bill Caustic again from CNN. Your story is titled ‘How to Fix a Dead Baby’. What does that mean?”

“It’s irony.”

“Excuse me sir. Jane Bland from Associated Press. What do you mean by ‘irony’?”

“What?”

“Sir! If I may. Bill Blanche from Headline News. They say you’ve written the great American novel.”

“I don’t…”

“Have you read it yourself?”

“What?”

“Have you read the novel?”

“I wrote it.”

“Yes, of course but have you read it? I mean – really, really read it?”

“Well, yes.”

“Sir! Pearl Yellowman from CBS. May I ask about the symbolism in the novel?”

“Sure. Ummm. Ok.”

“The two teenagers violate the family. Why don’t they kill the baby too?”

“Ummm. They do.”

“Yes of course but they try to fix him.”

“They’re stoned and…”

“Of course but what are your thoughts on this?”

“What?”

“Jerry Blue from ABC. What do you mean in your novel about ‘fixing’ the baby?”

“They try to fix the…”

“And who was the mother? Was it the sister-in-law?”

“No she was…”

“She was a teacher yes? And the boys – they were students.”

“Yes.”

“So was one of the boys the actual father of the baby?”

“They were fifteen. The baby was three. It doesn’t make any…”

“John Blowhole, Washington Post Book Review. Can you tell us what are your thoughts on this novel?”

“Well I’m trying but.”

“Yes of course.

Comments

Okay folks. Make of this what you will. I've got this idea in my head. The idea is simple; tell an entire story without writing a single word of it - tell it through people's responses to it. I don't know if this little test works or not. I used a press conference and the frantic pace to befuddle the author so not too much about the untold story is revealed.

I typically don't care at all about criticism or comments but I'm really curious to know how people respond to this or if they even read it after the title.

(BTW: The untold story in this case is loosley based on "In Cold Blood" by Capote.)

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Wow!  I don't know if this is the "comment" you are looking for, but I laughed like hell.  It is so true life newsy asses who never can get the news out, just befuddle themselves with stupidness.  I loved it!  Maybe because I was a journalism major in college ( a long time ago and not my career).  I am intrigued by the actual story though.  Dead babies may be great fodder for a macabre story.  I know I'm just sick....midnight?

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I took it as a dig at modern media as well, how you don't seem to have to know anything about the news story you're writing so long as you get the right talking points in there.  I enjoyed it.

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I think it worked. And I think it's a really good idea. You got the basics of the story across, but still forced anyone who would attempt to retell it to keep the misconceptions introduced by the press. Sorry if I'm not making any sense, it's 5 am and I may not be in my right mind. And I agree with everything Dragon said.

Answer 8

A few haikus

 

Haiku

This is a haiku

it is simple it goes five

seven five easy!

 

Mystery(guess)

In the autumn sky

like snowflakes floating around

before the rain comes

Answer 9

Karlyn Hardigree – walking to work on that crisp smelling fall morning. The wet asphalt reflecting the looming sun, an honest good morning. Where did Karlyn work? She worked at the Salvation Army store by the main road outside her neighborhood.

             She had buttoned her new black jacket, feeling it was a very good look for her, and tied her mono black converse to the top. She fast forwarded the songs on her music player until she wasn’t bored by a song, threw her satchel over her shoulder and walked out the door, remembering to lock it even if there were people in the house, they were still sleeping.

            The morning had been quiet. She ate breakfast alone, eating slowly and timely, relaxed. She decided that she was looking forward to working. It was never truly dull.

            The neighborhood was on a large hill she walked down on the chilly bright morning. Across the fjord in front of her were the round mountains, rich with trees and little cabins.

            Few people were out and about this early on a Saturday, but the occasional car did pass, crunching gravel under their tires. She stayed on the sidewalk; picking up blood red leaves off the ground she could store pressed in a book. She slid the pointed leaves in her jacket pocket and continued down the hill.

            An older woman passed, they nodded politely. People were nicer on the sunny mornings, unless they were in a hurry. You could speak to strangers on those mornings; there were good chatty topics, nice weather, peaceful etc. Shallow, but comforting.

            Around the bend another car crunched gravel. Karlyn continued to hum the song blasting sweetly in her ears and in the next second she was thrown to the asphalt by a red painted metal force, in which sat an old man in a kaki fleece next to his wife. Quite automatically Karlyn jumped up; as it was in the suburban area the speed limit was low.

            The man began to get out. Karlyn lifted her handed, gesturing him to stop. She popped her earphones back in and continued on, quite embarrassed by the incident. 20 feet away she walked to the underpass and rested leaning against the cement walls. Spray-painted sloppily in greens and reds were names and pathetic statements of over privileged teenagers.

            She took in a deep breath and closed her eyes. The initial shock was wearing off and she began to feel a sharp pain in her hip. She couldn’t see her face but she felt it for blood. She was fine, maybe a bruise there. Her hands were scraped up and gritty. She brushed them on her black jacket and took another deep breath. She was fine.

            At work, she kept quiet about the incident; it was over and it was nothing. She didn’t even tell her best friend. She didn’t want it to leak out to the whole crew and she did not want to go to the hospital. She could deal with some sharp hip pains for a while. Mostly she didn’t want the police involved. It was such a petty case, truly embarrassing. If the pain worsened she’d call the chiropractor. And the day continued.

Answer 10

One

Double two

Trinitarian triple three

Four square, fourth quadrangle

Pentacle, fifth, pentagram, five, quintessence

Hexagonal, six, sixth, hexagon, sextuplets, Senary

Seven, seventh, September, Septimus,  septenary, heptagram, Plieades.