This week’s Trifextra Challenge was a fun variation on the usual. We had 33 words for our entry, and were instructed to include a palindrome (either a single word, or a palindromic phrase). I found one that I’ve included at the end of my piece.
“Revolt”
Kisses will be given, not stolen. Stories will be shared, and dreams realized. Wounds will heal with the passage of time, and we’ll gaze with amazement at our progress. Won’t lovers revolt now?
This week’s Trifecta Challenge gave us the third definition of the word “worm” and a strict limit of 33 words. Here’s my entry.
“Promises to Keep”
I know you wanted to worm the information from me. I wasn’t about to give you the satisfaction, not even close to giving in and breaking the trust.
I owed her that much.
“Come Walk With Me Beneath The Stars”
Come walk with me beneath the stars,
And we’ll watch our breath rising to
Meet the moon above.
Come walk with me beneath the stars,
And count the constellations that
Are familiar, and name our own.
Come walk with me beneath the stars,
And wonder at the age and the
Depth of the universe.
Come walk with me beneath the stars,
And hold your hand in mine, our
Fingers intertwined.
Come walk with me beneath the stars,
And we’ll sing songs that echo to
The sky and distant mountains.
Come walk with me beneath the stars,
And we’ll walk throughout the
Night, and leave the world behind.
This week’s Trifecta Challenge gave us five words to use as the end of a piece. We were to provide 33 more to lead into that conclusion. Here’s “That Wasn’t What I Meant.”
Remember when I said that I was going to be okay? When I said I could do what you asked me to do? When I said it wasn’t going to be a problem?
That wasn’t what I meant.
“And So Begins The Long Night”
And so begins the long night, for though the sun
May rise and set a thousand times, until I hear
Your voice again, whispering into my ear, the
Morning will not return.
And so begins the long night, when I find I am
Alone, lost in the darkness and so uncertain
Of which way I need to go without your hand
Reaching out for mine.
And so begins the long night, and I am now
Unable to sleep, despite the silence that
Has fallen, and I pray that I might dream of
You, and find some comfort there.
“Pretend”
And for a while the rain fell,
And I pretended (do you still
Remember how to pretend?)
That I was aboard a tall ship,
Three heavy masts thrusting up
From the sea, damp men
Scrambling along damp rope
To secure her sails as the wind
And rain threatened to hurl them
Into an ever-hungry sea.
And for a while I pretended
(And I hope you’ve not forgotten
The rules for pretending) that I
Was a scribe, making careful records
Of all that the men saw and
Did, and of the strange new
Lands we reached, each dawn bringing
With it new adventure. And I
Pretended (but just in case, the
First rule is to forget about reality
For a while. Give reality the day
Off) that this rain was the first
In a series of increasingly fearsome
Storms that might claim the lives
Of many of the damp men
Who guided the ship from port
To port. And I pretended
(And the second rule is to dive
Headfirst into your own mind
And surface with whatever golden
Thought you may have have found
In the depths) that our ship
Had reached a sun-soaked shore.
And for a while the damp men
Escaped from the sea, and the
Rain stopped, and the sun shone,
And for a while the damp men
Were warm and dry and for a
While they were able to pretend
That their lives were something
More than they were. And for
A while I pretended (and the
Last rule is that no matter what
You pretend, that you have fun)
That I was there with them,
Dancing and singing in a
Tropical paradise, smiling
Because, for a brief while, I was
Free. And then the rain outside
My window stopped, and I
No longer desired to pretend.
The ship sailed away again,
And I was left behind.
It’s an appropriate week for this Trifecta Writing Challenge. We were given the word “funk,” and the standard range of 33 to 333 words to tell a story including the “slump” definition of the word. Here’s “Funk.”
“Funk”
Writer’s block is a miserable thing. You’ve had great ideas in the past, and surely you will in the future, but for whatever unknown reason, you’ve got nothing now. Maybe something happened that caught you off guard. Maybe you’re just tired and need to put down the coffee mug and take a nap once in a while (because naps are beautiful things that we shrug off as children for some godforsaken reason and struggle to embrace again as we grow older). Anyway. Something happened, and now you, the great writer that you are, are in some sort of terrible funk. The way out isn’t immediately clear, so you stop writing.
Bad idea. I know it seems counterproductive to write when you don’t have any ideas, when the cursor is just blinking at you, and you’ve been staring at the computer screen so long that you don’t even notice the blinking. I’ve been there too. Hell, I think everyone who has ever thought about being a writer has dealt with a shortage of things that they deem “good” ideas.
What do I do? I take a breather. I go for a short walk around my apartment complex, or play a game of D&D with my friends, or draw a picture of a character I created back in elementary school. Just change my brain’s pace for a little bit. It may not help immediately, but it gets me out of my funk. That way I’m not just sitting around my bedroom doing nothing all day.
If nothing else works, I free-write. No plans, no obligations, just me and a pencil and paper. Writing by hand helps me clarify ideas anyway, so doing a bit of stream-of-consciousness writing is a perfect way to chip away at whatever is keeping the ideas from flowing. Ideas will come when I least expect them, but there’s no guaranteed way for any one person. Find what works best for you, and put it to use. Good luck, and happy writing!
Our latest challenge from the good people over at Trifecta was this. Construct a 33-word story about love gone wrong. The catch? Don’t use any of these words:
For three years we’d shared everything. We’d met family, taken vacations, and grown practically inseparable. Tonight I came home to find all of her things gone, “goodbye” scrawled in lipstick on the mirror.
This week’s Trifextra Challenge gave us this photo. We were told to write 33 words inspired by the image. My piece, The Café, can be read below. It’s flash fiction from photography, for those of you who love alliteration as much as I do.
Photo by Thomas Leuthard. Found here. http://www.flickr.com/photos/thomasleuthard/5678203035/
“The Café”
Evie could be found at her favorite café table with a stack of books every day at three.
Every day at three, Marcia walked past the café, gazing longingly at the reading girl.
This week’s Trifecta Writing Challenge gave us the “quaint” as our required word. Here’s my 333-word microfiction response.
“Quaint”
“I came here once, at least once, when I was a kid. Maybe more. My parents brought me here, but I don’t really remember the details of it. Regardless, I know that I love the atmosphere here more than pretty much any other bookstore we’ve ever gone to.”
“I like it,” Jason replied. “It’s quaint. In a good way, I mean,” he added, catching the frown that crossed my face. “Not weird, just, I guess, old fashioned.”
I waved my hand at the uneven shelves stacked with worn volumes and well-loved tomes. “That’s the best part! You don’t find classic indie bookstores anymore. I mean, the chains wiped out the little guys, and then Amazon came along and did the same thing to them. These guys have been around for almost forty years, and they’re still going strong.”
“And that’s impressive as hell, really. I love that they have the whole retro thing going for them, though I suspect that’s not entirely intentional. It’s a really cool store, but it just doesn’t have the same impact for me.”
“I guess not,” I sighed, pulling a copy of Swords Against Death from the shelf. “I liked this one. Too bad they don’t have the first of these in stock. Lieber’s characters are some of my favorite.”
“That’s the Gray Mouser guy, right? The one you based your old rogue on?”
“Yup. I used to get a lot of inspiration for D&D characters from this guy’s books. Guess my love for old sci-fi and fantasy is another one of those ‘quaint’ things about me.”
“And I love it,” Jason laughed. “Come on, then. This place is perfect for you. Why don’t you show me the rest of the store?”
I slipped the book back into place, carefully shifting those on either side of it. “Okay, but first you owe me a coffee.”
“Deal,” he said, pulling me away from the shelf. “And maybe I’ll even buy you a book after that.”
“Sounds like a deal.”
The Swords of the Ancients 