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Tag Archives: writing

100 Words

About two weeks ago, I was approached by a coworker to craft the opening lines to a collaborative story that would be taking place in my library’s lobby. The starting words I wrote were posted on a large paper tablet on an easel. Patrons are free to come up and add a sentence to continue the narrative. As of this morning, we’re onto the fifth page It’s been an intriguing community effort, and I will try to post the whole thing once it is done. For now, however, here are the first one hundred words. I was given two themes to weave into this intro, summer and the library. This is what I wrote.

* * * * * *

The summer sun was hanging low in the sky, lazily dropping toward mountains. A light breeze carried a leaf from behind me and whisked it across my path before dropping it to the ground. I could still hear the laughter of the children playing games in the park I’d passed a few minutes before, mixed with yells that the ground was lava. I paused briefly to look toward my destination. The library stood tall amid the growing shadows, as if it were waiting for my arrival. I shivered in anticipation and approached the entryway, placing my hand on the door.

* * * * * *

I can’t wait to see where they go with this one.

The Rough Draught (Trifecta Week 82)

This is my entry for this week’s Trifecta Writing Challenge. Our prompt word this week was club, and I thought it was a great opportunity to dust off an idea that came straight out of a conversation my friends and I had back in college.

“The Rough Draught”

The bar was Noel’s idea in the first place. Everyone comes to see him.

They first met in college, students finding their place in the real world. They would chat about music, movies, video games, life. Most of the time, though, it was books. Books, authors, the publishing industry. It was their shared passion, whether they were heaping praise upon those that earned their approval or tearing down those that drew their ire.

Noel was majoring in business, Jackson in creative writing, Camille in professional editing, and Mike in art and philosophy. They quickly became close friends, and soon Mike and Camille were engaged. They met anywhere they were tolerated. Usually the volume and intensity of their conversations would scare other customers away in bookstores, and the relatively soundproof study rooms in the local library could only do so much once they really got started.

However, all good things must come to an end, and so it was with the club’s regular meetings. Graduation came, and their next reunion was not to be until Camille and Mike’s wedding a year later. It was at the wedding dinner that Noel proposed his idea.

“Imagine a place,” he said, “where people would be free to have the kind of conversations we used to have, but be able to find the support for their endeavors.”

“You obviously have something in mind,” Camille grinned, wiping a bit of cake from her mouth. “What is it?”

“I call it ‘The Rough Draught.’ A bar for book people, but not just a bar. A bookstore, a bar, a literary agency. Hell, we could even get a print-on-demand station if we wanted to. But I’d love your help. I’ve got a business plan and a couple of potential investors, but I would love your help. We could have editors and artists on hand every day. What do you guys think?”

“I love it, and the name’s perfect,” Jackson laughed. “When do we start?”

“As soon as we can,” Noel said.

Trifecta: Week 81

Trifecta Writing Challenge: Week 81. Our word was light.

 

I can see the light from here. It’s shining through the blinds as I’m trying to fall asleep, and I’m beginning to realize the futility of that goal. I think it’s the North Star, but I’m too exhausted to care. It’s been a long trip, and I know that I’m nearly there, so I suppose that’s a plus. Maybe one more week before the ship reaches land. I’m hopeful that my son is safe, and that his last letter to me was accurate, that he is ready for my arrival. Our future is bright, almost as the star I see above. Perhaps instead of sleep, I will make a wish and go for a walk on the deck.

Trifecta Week 78: “Pedantic”

It’s Week 78 over at Trifecta, so here’s yet another one-word prompt story. “Pedantic.”

“It’s dull.”

“What?”

“Your story. Dull. Boring. Dreary. Pedantic. Drivel.”

“So, you didn’t like it?”

“I didn’t say I didn’t like it. Just that I think it’s shit.”

“What the hell, man?”

“Hey, you asked me what I thought of it. I’m just being honest.”

“Yeah, and an asshole.”

“An asshole who is happy to be brutally honest with you.”

“Apparently so.”

“But seriously. You can write better than this. This is uninspired. I’ve seen what you can do. Who were you trying to fool with this stuff?”

“What? Fool? Why the hell would I be trying to fool anyone?”

“Beats me, but this bit of ‘story’ that you handed me an hour ago is nonsense. Unimaginative. Dull. Bullshit. Pedantic. Did I use that one already?”

“Yeah, you did, actually.”

“Well then, I guess it counts double. Go rewrite it. Better yet, throw this away and start from the beginning. Forget you ever had this idea.”

“Fine. FINE. I’ll scrap it.”

“Good.”

“Is it really that bad?”

“Oh yeah.”

“Hmph. Fine.”

“Please, just…try harder this time.”

“Alright. But you know something?”

“What?”

“Next time I ask myself to read something I wrote, I’ll do it without all of this talking to myself nonsense.”

“Sounds like a good plan.”

“Good. Now, shut up and let me write.”

“I didn’t say anything.”

“Yeah, I know.”

Rainy Days

“I know,” he whispered.
“I wanted to kiss you
In it. But there will be
Other rainy days.”

The Librarian: Trifecta Challenge

For this week’s Trifextra challenge, we were prompted to write the origin of a superhero in thirty-three words. I debated doing someone from my favorite comic book series, but then I remembered I had this little thing floating around in my drafts folder, so you get someone original-ish. Enjoy.

The Librarian:

Raised in secret in the catacombs beneath our nation’s capital. Trained from birth in the ways of those who have always walked in silence. He is the peerless warrior of words. The Librarian.

 

 

 

 

Blackout Poetry

Last month (actually just last week) we invited teens at our library to take part in creating blackout poetry. We provided pages from books that were due to be recycled and encouraged teens to leave only the words they wanted to be read. This led to some really brilliant pieces of art, and so I decided to craft my own as well. Enjoy!

One recycled book page + One Sharpie = Genius!

One recycled book page + One Sharpie = Genius!

Gravity

Today’s post is a poem I wrote a few years ago, originally for a poetry slam. I consider it the single best piece I wrote during my college career, and so I thought that National Poetry Month was the perfect time to share it with my current audience. This is “Gravity.”

Gravity is a bitch, but I let her have her way with me anyway.

She tries to keep me in bed every morning. I guess she likes

To keep me down, constantly. I’ve known since she first gave me her number

That it would be like this (it’s 6.67×1011, by the way—Somehow I’m

Feeling like she hasn’t been getting those texts I’ve been trying to

Send to her). I think it’s a doomed relationship, but she’ll never let me go.

I don’t even remember how long it’s been since I met her. I think I’ve

Known deep down that we’ll never be apart for long.

I suppose that her embrace is comforting.

Being too far from it can be disorienting. It’s a strange sensation.

Like I’m weightless—nothing without her touch.

It’s been a very strange relationship.

She said that she likes long walks on the beach,

But every time we’ve tried to go,

The tides come in. I don’t know what that’s all about.

She says it’s all relative.

I’m a nerd, and she knows it, but she still stays.

Some part of me hopes that she always will.

I think I’d probably fly off hurtling into space

If she ever left. It would be the breakup felt

By everyone around the world,

Even the people who don’t know me.

They’d all feel it. They’d all know.

What would they do if they found

Out? If they knew that I was the one who’d

Pushed her away? I think that they’d find

Me fairly repulsive. Yet somehow, I doubt

That they’d be in any position to do anything

About it at that point.

So I stay in this loveless relationship,

More out of the convenience of it than

Anything. It’s better for all of us that

Way, isn’t it? I mean, despite my feelings,

The attraction is oddly irresistible.

I’ll always be hers. It’s almost a crushing

Feeling of inevitability. Oh well. I’m stuck with her.

 

Gravity.

 

 

 

That bitch.

Do You Still Dream?

“Do you still dream?”

“I thought that I was dreaming now.”

“You know what I mean.”

“I suppose I do.”

“Do dream, or do know?”

“Either.”

“What do you dream about?”

“When I remember?”

“Yeah, when you remember.”

“Do you want me to be honest, or do you want me to tell you what I think you want to hear?”

“Both.”

“I dream about you.”

“Really?”

“Really. Not like sex or anything. We’re just together. Spending time with each other.”

“Oh?”

“Yeah. I had a dream about a week ago with you. We spent an afternoon just lying on our backs in a field.”

“That sounds really nice.”

“Yeah, sunshine and everything. It was beautiful.”

“Sounds like it.”

“What about you?”

“What about me?”

“Do you still dream?”

“No.”

“Not at all?”

“As rarely as possible.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“I mean I really don’t like thinking about you all that much anymore.”

“…”

“No, I…not that…”

“Then what?”

“I just…it hurts too much to think about you anymore.”

“I guess that makes sense.”

“Yeah…I mean, it was good and all.”

“You don’t have to say that. I should be apologizing.”

“Yeah, you probably should, but I don’t expect you to.”

“Ouch.”

“Well, I mean, I’m just trying to be honest with you.”

“I know.”

Ecstasy

This was written in response to the most recent Trifecta challenge. Here’s “Ecstasy.”

 

She had begged him to go to the cavern, to gain the experience for himself. Now he sat alone, waiting for the process to begin. Crispin closed his eyes and felt the vapors wash over him, enveloping his skin and pouring into his mind. The ecstasy would be upon him soon, the tremors in his legs, his fingers, his arms. Bracing himself against one wall of the cavern, he collapsed in a fetal ball and the visions began.

There they were, standing together with their fingers intertwined. The snow was beginning to fall as they shared a lingering kiss. Eliza’s dark lashes were dusted with white as she leaned against him. She had been laughing when he dropped to his knee and startled her into silence with a small velvet box.

They lay on their backs under an alien sky, Eliza resting her head against his chest. Crispin pointed out constellations that no human had ever named before, tracing dreams in the night above.

They sat at a café in Paris, half-finished pastries and cooling coffee on the table between them. Eliza ran her foot across his, blushing as she did.

They cried together in an empty room, Eliza slumped on the floor and Crispin leaning on the crib that would never be filled.

As suddenly as it had begun, the ecstasy ended. Crispin’s head cleared and he managed to stand. A bottle of water stood on the table. When he stumbled while reaching for it, Eliza’s hand caught him and pulled him upright. She waited patiently while he finished the water, only posing her question after the last drop was gone.

“So… How was it?”

“Different,” he replied. “I saw a lot of possible futures, Eliza, and only one thing was certain in any of them.”

She tapped her forefingers together, looking away. “W…was it…”

“It was you, Elly. You were there by my side, in every one of my visions.”

She smiled, pulling him into a hug. “Then let’s go home.”