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Post by Jacqueline D. on Jul 8, 2010 12:50:44 GMT -5
This is Allen's post!
I got this idea from a writing forum I used to frequent and thought I'd pass it along here. The idea is to take ten minutes to write something. It doesn't matter what it is - all that matters is that you write something. It's a great way to get the juices flowing and to keep your mind sharp as you try to work on that big project (whatever it may be).
Here's my contribution for the day:
Began: 1:36 PM
Finished: 1:46PM
The sound of glass breaking shattered the silence of the night. Mark Jackson sat up quickly in his bed at the noise, his brown eyes darting here and there and his large ears straining to hear. He ran his hands through his sweat damp auburn curls and climbed out of the bed, his short, tree trunk sized legs holding up his barrel-shaped body. Slowly, with a stealth surprising in one so stocky, he slid from his bedroom and down the hall.
Mark quietly checked in on Thomas, his 7-year-old son, who was sleeping quietly in his bed, covered in his Penguins of Madagascar sheets. The man smiled at his boy, the spitting image of his late wife, before sneaking down the hall, listening intently to the night and the sounds of his house. Suddenly, a hellacious yowl! startled the man and he fell to the floor in fright. He looked up, crawling quickly to the front of the house where he saw two black shapes grappling on the floor. Sighing, he climbed to his feet and turned on the den light.
The two figures stopped what they were doing and turned to stare at Mark as he stood there in his underwear and t-shirt. The man laughed, shaking his head at the sight. One of the figures was his cat, Ivan, and the other was a stray that must have slipped into the house through Ivan's cat door. On the floor was the shattered glass that Thomas had forgotten to return to the kitchen before going to bed. Stepping carefully around it, Mark picked up the stray cat and walked to the door. He set it down carefully and closed the door with a softly whispered "Shoo cat!".
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Post by feralpen on Jul 8, 2010 18:06:35 GMT -5
Start time 7:02 P.M.
There is a fair lady named Jacqueline
And she keeps Peachbutter just crackelin'
To Allen's dismay
She's far and away
The reason th' roosters are cackelin'
End time 7:05 P.M.
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Post by Jacqueline on Jul 8, 2010 18:09:40 GMT -5
Awesome! Are you going to finish this or just keep this as an exercise?
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Post by Jacqueline D. on Jul 8, 2010 18:19:40 GMT -5
Start time 7:02 P.M.
There is a fair lady named Jacqueline
And she keeps Peachbutter just crackelin'
To Allen's dismay
She's far and away
The reason th' roosters are cackelin'
End time 7:05 P.M. *LOL* I like that fp! Very nice. Awesome! Are you going to finish this or just keep this as an exercise? I may use the characters at a later date, probably for another exercise, but the above is all I intend to write concerning the cat story for now. |
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Post by Jacqueline on Jul 8, 2010 21:50:56 GMT -5
LOL! fp I'm pretty sure Allen is GLAD I am far away. I am enough of a pain in his butt from a distance.  Allen I like this character already. Even if he does have big ears. hehe |
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Post by Jacqueline D. on Jul 9, 2010 7:35:44 GMT -5
This is Allen's Post!
Distance makes the heart grow fonder  . He is a cool character isn't he? I enjoyed creating him. I haven't just popped out a character without trying to do a background for him or her first in ages.
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Post by Jacqueline D. on Jul 9, 2010 18:24:46 GMT -5
This is Allen's Post!
The smell of fresh baked fruitcake lingered in the are as Tyler Anderson walked along the hot sidewalk past the Claxton Bakery on his way to the Evans County Courthouse to try and find a copy of his great-great grandmother Ellen's death certificate. Tyler had decided to walk from his work at the Sandwhich Shoppe instead of drive due to the new work being done on the roads. The young man wasn't about to get on that road and have to make God only knows how many turns to get to where he needed to be when he could go in a straight line and get some exercise to boot.
The scorching July sun beat down on his smoke-hued hair and against his tanned neck, reddening it slightly as he traveled, stopping occasionally to talk to a neighbor, friend or family member - sometimes all three at the same time. Tyler whistled after departing from the latest person, his 2nd cousin (twice removed) on his mother's side and headed across the road towards the courthouse. He entered the building going straight to meet the County Clerk, and quickly found Ellen's death certificate. He scanned it quickly, a grin of triumph widening his face. "So, that's how she died," he said softly. "I've got to add this to my records." With a nod of his head and a thank you to the clerk, he left the building, the certificate clutched in his hand and the grin plastered on his face.
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Post by Jacqueline D. on Jul 13, 2010 10:15:13 GMT -5
This is Allen's Post!
Something a little different today. Instead of fiction, a personal entry.
Began: 11:04
Ended: 11:13
Jeremiah General Lewis was born March 1845 in Bulloch County, Georgia, to Wiley Lewis and Rhoda Cannon. On 21 February 1863, at the age of 17, he enlisted in Co. K of the 47th Georgia Volunteer Infantry and served until Oct of 1864 when he was discharged in Whiteville, South Carolina due to typhoid fever. During his time with the 47th Georgia he fought at Vicksburg, Kennesaw Mountain, Chickamauga and other battles. After the war, he married Mary Rushing in 1868 and had ten children. He then married Elizabeth Sapp in 1900 and Mary Jane Deloach in 1903, having two and four children respectively. He recieved his pension in 1913. On 15 November 1912, General Lewis crossed the river.
It was under General Lewis that I joined the Ogeechee Rifles Camp #941 of the Sons of Confederate Veterans on 25 November 2003. It has been a rewarding, amazing experience these past 7 years and I have my ancestor to thank for that - and so much more.
ETA: Just noticed a discrepancy. I think his wife must have recieved the pension in his name.
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Post by Jacqueline on Jul 13, 2010 10:21:13 GMT -5
Hey Allen.  I missed the fruitcake entry!  Don't know how that happened. I like this exercise except you have kept us all in suspense about how she died! SPILL IT! I'm glad you are getting your writing exercises in. I'm convinced that these small steps work the same for artists as well as writers. Everyday, practice practice practice. Thanks for sharing! |
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Post by Jacqueline D. on Jul 13, 2010 10:25:59 GMT -5
This is Allen's post!Hey Allen. I missed the fruitcake entry! Don't know how that happened. I like this exercise except you have kept us all in suspense about how she died! SPILL IT! Soon as I go to town to get her certificate I will *L* Exactly, hon. The more you do the better you'll be regardless of the art you study.
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Post by Jacqueline on Jul 21, 2010 16:53:32 GMT -5
I want to know how she died! LOL *tries to wait patiently*
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Post by Jacqueline D. on Jul 30, 2010 8:32:40 GMT -5
This is Allen's Post!
Began 9:12
Ended 9:22
The air was fetid with the smell of fear. Simon Drakar, second son of Lord Gunthar Drakar, Baron of Manticore Keep, ran out of the Keep and into the courtyard, his hand gripping his calex tightly as molten projectiles wizzed past his head like angry mosquitos. His vibroblade bounced at his side, the leather sheath hitting his thigh repeatedly as he ran for all he was worth. Sweat dampened his dark black hair and his eyes, a vivid blue, were wide with fear as his heart beat quickly in his broad chest.
It had all happened so suddenly. One moment his father was entertaining guests from the neighboring barony of Jex and the next those same guests were rising, hidden weapons raised to shoot and stab their hosts. In less than a quarter of an hour most of the House of Drakar, the fifth greatest House in the Kingdom of Ran, had been taken down into the Lands of the Dead. Now, only Simon remained, and he was running for his life.
The young man stopped, breathing heavily, and hid behind a dragon that had been left in the courtyard, it's metallic wings reflecting the moonlight. Drawing his calex, Simon scanned the ground for his enemies. He darted out of the safety of the dragon to shoot back at his foes before jerking back to safety again. He heard a scream and had to hold back a shout of triumph. "Got the bastard," he whispered to himself. Suddenly, he felt a hand clamp on his shoulder from behind. . .
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Post by Jacqueline on Jul 30, 2010 11:40:57 GMT -5
OMG I am completely captivated! Seriously! Keep writing on this one.......
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Don't know how that happened. I like this exercise except you have kept us all in suspense about how she died! SPILL IT!