Two Poetic Twists on a Theme & Your Monday Fortune Cookie, 1/27/14

Cold hands -- warm heart (or poor circulation)

SNARKY REPONSE: So do cold feet -- hot buns?


At MarsCon, I attended a Poetry workshop where the moderator, Adele Gardner, invited us to write some poetry playing with the con's fairy tale theme. Here are what I came up with:

Point of Departure

Before stepping between, she pauses to breathe,

a golden girl in pinafore with eyes of tempest blue.

Fingers splayed to reach, to push, to pull,

she breaks the liminal boundary, icy as sorrow,

fleeting as fog on a wintry morning.

A step away from a world dark with memories,

a step forward into a vista of unknowns,

she arrives, safe but not sound, here and yet still there.

Beyond the looking glass, she begins to seek her ending.

Queen's Gambit

So simple, yet so right.

With dew drops lingering bright on crimson skin,

the unsuspected vessel of my assured victory.

A single bite is all that's required.

Tart sweetness to be relished until

the body learns what the eyes did not perceive.

Rose red lips will part to gasp,

to frame a question unasked,

release a final breath in a sigh.

Innocence once more felled by naivete,

How simple, yes, how right.

The fruit of innocence bears the seed of death.

If you'd like to share something of your own in the comments, I'd be thrilled to see and read it. If you'd like to share your thoughts about my words, I'll try to be equally thrilled to read them (depending on the tone LOL).

Three Minutes, Winter, & Monday Fortune Cookie 5/6/13

A FEELING IS AN IDEA WITH ROOTS

SNARKY RESPONSE:  And dislodging a bad one can be similar to getting a root canal.

FIRST THIS NEWS FLASH:  NPR announced on Saturday, their new Three-Minute Fiction Contest writing prompt - Write a short piece of fiction (600 words or less) in which a character finds something he or she has no intention of returning. Deadline is midnight on Sunday, May 12th.

Actually, I thought this fortune and NPR's newest Three-Minute Fiction Contest were kinda sympatico with my recent efforts with random writing prompts. I don't know if I'll have time to attempt this round, but I'm thinking about it.

I found this prompt and got the feeling my response to this prompt would work best as free verse. Perhaps attending all the Open Mikes and rubbing elbows with some of the Richmond Poets has begun to rub off on me. They're so friendly and giving of their words and encouragement that I felt open to making an attempt. I hope they're not laughing or cringing too much.

Thank you, Writers Write

Winter is everything except silent.

Clear away summer's exuberant song and reveal

the subtle underscore of life less full.

Overhead, limbs, leaf-free, liberated,

creak and click with each brush of wind.

Breath becomes part of the soundscape

above footsteps audible on frost-stiffened grass

or salt-strewn paths.

Brittle cracks of ice,

soft drops of melt,

hushed fall of snow.

Water in winter shifts form and texture,

each with its own unique soundtrack.

Birdcalls split the air with sharp edges,

winter flight a soft whoosh of wings through air.

Solitary flight sounds as clear as summer's flock

amplified by absence, fuller in empty skies.

Soft, hard. Loud, hushed.

Winter is everything except silent.

Photo Prompts, Story Snippets, & Monday Fortune Cookie 4/29/13

YOU WILL SPEND OLD AGE IN COMFORT AND MATERIAL WEALTH.

SNARKY RESPONSE:  If this fortune cookie had the winning lottery numbers, I might, but without those I'll probably spend it with Southern Comfort.


Today, I decided to do something different. I'm going to share a little of my writing explorations with you.

I'm very active on fb - Denise Golinowski/Author - and folks are always posting these lovely evocative images. Anything and everything from lush landscapes to fantastical creatures to kick-ass warriors. 

I used to just share them and comment on how they were "plot bunnies," but I never followed up. 

Well for some time, I've been wanting to write something in the Steampunk genre, or at least on the Gaslight stage, and recently I've been seeing photos that grabbed my imagination with both hands, screamed "steampunk story" at me, and introduced me to a couple of intriguing characters - Lady Aimes and Professor Algenon. And it all started with this photo:

Frankfurt Metro Entrance

(Where, in an unexpected turn of events, Professor Algenon takes control of a runaway underground train and manages to drive it up through the pavement to avoid a head-on collision.)

Lady Aimes adjusted her hat and brushed dust 
off her shirtwaist before fixing Professor Algenon with a stern gaze. "A unique way to avoid a straight-on disaster, but you could have just changed tracks back at the switch."

Professor Alegnon wiped a trickle of blood from his forehead and grinned. "But this was so much more fun!"


And a few hours later, I saw a photo of the Bridge of Sighs in Venice - not this exact photo, one taken at night with the canal was empty of gondolas, which set up this snippet: 

(Where Lady Aimes and the Professor try to escape some unsavory Venetians who have been up to no good. Unfortunately, Lady Aimes, who is a very frugal woman, did not anticipate the mercenary nature of their gondolier)


Lady Aimes peered over the side of the bridge at the empty water. "Where is that gondolier?"

Professor Algenon glanced over his shoulder toward the distant sound of footsteps and shouts. "Perhaps you should have tipped him more."


(Suffice it to say that they manage to escape not only their nefarious pursuers, but reached the safety and sanity of London with their adventure a success - a disaster averted and a dastardly inventor jailed)


Before the end of that day, a final photo of a beautiful glassed in solarium provided a final scene for the Intrepid Lady Aimes and Professor Algenon (I apologize, but I could not find a comparable photo - imagine if you will a glass roofed solarium with lush greenery and a tea service set on a table between two cushioned wrought iron chairs):  

Lady Aimes sank onto the seat cushion with a sigh of relief. "Home at last. Professor, you seem to relish outings like today's, but I, for one, am determined to stay in tomorrow."

Professor Algenon looked up from the stack of correspondence on his lap. She couldn't tell if the sparkle in his blue eyes was from excitement or sunlight on his glasses. "I'm sorry to hear that. I just received an intriguing missive."

She leaned forward, sensing a rise of regretable excitement. "Do tell."


Now I'm captured by these two intriguing characters and have plans to flesh out this first adventure and then follow them out into others as well. In fact, I worked on an opening scene for a second story while at RavenCon this year.

So, have you seen any good pictures or met any intriguing characters? I invite you to visit my fb page to see what other snippets I create and give me your thoughts/additions/etc.

Temptation & Plot Bunnies, Monday Fortune Cookie, 4/1/13

The problem with resisting temptation is that it may never come again.

SNARKY RESPONSE: One should never let a good temptation go to waste. You already feel guilty for being tempted. Why not just give in and have something to show for all that guilt?

The problem with resisting temptation is that it may never come again.

Something about this made me think of all those plot bunnies accumulating in my brain. Oh, that and Easter, I guess. (after all, I'm writing this on Sunday)

pixabay.com

 

No, honestly, plot bunnies are those mental sparklies that pop into existence without rhyme or reason to plague our precious writing time.

• The bizarre character who sneaks onto the stage of our imagination to shout an intriguing bit of monologue or purloin a bit of the current scene for herself
• The random "what if" that stops us cold at our keyboard with a quizzical huh?
• That bit of backstory that just won't stay in the back

A well-trained writer knows she must remain focused on the work at hand if she hopes to finish the damned book. So she yanks the character off stage with one of those old vaudeville hooks, snatched back the piece of the scene, and promises herself to check that "what if" later when she's dealt with the current WIP.

However, "later" is a nebulous word and a promise given under duress is seldom fulfilled, leaving our hopeful plot bunnies piling up in the corners or squished between the pages of notebooks. Or worse, you finally wrestle some free time for auditioning those plot bunnies only to discover that they've thrown up their hands in disgust and hopped back down the rabbit hole from whence they came, leaving nothing behind except a vague sense of unfulfilled potential.

So, I hereby grant myself and all my fellow writers permission to tell their current WIP to "take five," sit back and let that character say their piece. I suggest you open a new document and spend a little time pursuing that tantalizing "what if." And you pull out a few mental carrots to lure that plot bunny out of the shadows and into center stage.

I've been trying this out with the random Plot Bunny Story Snippets on my fb author page. I often discover a delectable photo or piece of artwork and share it on my author page and in the past I'd just say something like "plot bunny" but now, I'm trying to take the time to dash out a story snippet to try and nail down those wrascally wabbits.


Trust me, the WIP will be there, you've already created enough of it to be able to pick it back up again, but the sparklies may not be able to wait. Without that form that only you can provide, they will fade away leaving only the memory and a touch of guilt over a possibility missed.

Who's with me?

You got a minute? Three Minute Fiction & the Monday Fortune Cookie

THERE IS NO SECURITY IN LIFE, ONLY OPPORTUNITY.

SNARKY RESPONSE: Then who were those glowering, black tee-shirted dudes at the backstage doors who wouldn't let me see Michael Buble after his concert? I mean, they were seriously not believing my story about knowing him through my second cousin's half-sister's son's girlfriend. Hey, I was only trying to take advantage of an opportunity!

THERE IS NO SECURITY IN LIFE, ONLY OPPORTUNITY.

from Pixabay

Speaking of opportunities, last month, National Public Radio (NPR) ran their Three-Minute Fiction contest. Every year, they provide a writing prompt for writers to create a piece of flash fiction. The piece must be short enough to be read in three minutes, approximately 600 words. This year the prompt was for the story to be in the form of a voice mail message.

My monthly critique group, Writers Endeavor, agreed to give it a whirl and submit our efforts.   Writing short is hard and flash fiction is even harder. While I did not make it out of the slush pile, I wanted to go ahead and share it with you.

<BEEP>

Hello? Maria? Maria, I know you don't want to talk to me right now. I can't blame you, but I wanted to ask for one last chance. I'm sitting here in the airport, and all I see is you, sitting on the other side of that booth last night, your smile fading to tears then rising to anger. Your beautiful face is so expressive.

I know it was a shock, but I couldn't tell you the truth about my job when we met, so I hedged by lying about the crazy assignments and how I didn't know how long I'd be in town. And I warned you, warned me, that, in my line of work, I've never been able to maintain a relationship. I never wanted to until now, and then I wanted to think this was doable. That somehow we'd bridge the gap, beat the odds, something. I wanted this to work with you, with us, but then they sent me this assignment.

So, last night, sitting across from you with your smile so trusting as you leaned forward to hear me over that damned football game, I knew I had to say it. I knew I had to tell you, but it was hard. You don't know how hard it was. Okay, yeah, not as hard as it was for you to hear it, but I had to tell you because if I didn't tell you, we definitely wouldn't have a chance. And I want us to have a chance. Even if it's only a snowball's chance in hell, and believe me I understand hell, I want this to work. With you. I still do. I know I lied about my job, my life, but when we got serious, when I got serious, I should have told you the rest, the harsh reality, the truth. From the beginning. Not at the end. Not like last night. Not with another airline ticket to another destination for another contract breathing down my neck.

Maria, I wanted to tell you lots of times about the other stuff, but I enjoyed just being with you. It was a miracle, just being, just living like a regular couple with regular jobs. I love how you'll hunt and destroy every bit of green pepper on a slice of everything pizza. I could watch you rumble your way through that chocolate dessert at the CanCan every night. Smelling your hair on my pillow on lazy Sunday mornings with nowhere to go, no one to deal with but each other. God, I love waking up next to you and that's why I'm calling.

To ask one last time if you can accept who I was, and give me a chance to be who I can be with you. But first, I've got to finish this last job, this last contract and then I'm out. I'm done. No more.

So, call me back. My flight doesn't leave for about another hour and then I'll be out of reach for a while. If I don't hear from you, I'll know you can't move past what I told you. What I do. And I'll have to understand. But I hope you'll call me. Call me.”

<BEEP – Message Received Two Days Ago. No return number. Number disconnected.>