Friday, May 31, 2013

WRITING: Eve & Lilly

     Her face, if you could call it that, was mere inches from mine. One eyeball hung from its socket, dangling loosely by a wire thin chord. The left side of her mouth was still intact, lips twisted upward while the other half had been ripped clean off, bare teeth and jaw forming a grotesque smile. Two holes stood where nasal cavities once connected to the flesh and bone of a cute button nose.  This shell of my daughter cocked its head sideways and let out a long moan...
     I opened my eyes and let out a yelp as the face of my eleven year old danced in front of me, fully intact and smiling.
     “Good morning, Mummy,” Lilly sang, “Time to get up!” She had crawled onto the bed and laid next to me, already dressed and ready for school.
     I crinkled my nose and blinked several times, trying to gain focus. “Why are you in such a good mood?” I mumbled, wondering if I was still dreaming. Getting her up in the morning was usually a three-round boxing match.  
     “Today is the field trip, duh! Don’t forget to pack me a lunch.” She scootched off the bed and pulled back my covers, urging me to get moving. I swung my legs over the side, slid my feet into some slippers and dragged myself into the kitchen, ready to take on the day.
     Lilly must’ve let the dogs out because there they stood, greeting me from the other side of the sliding glass door tails wagging, tongues lolling, waiting for their morning feeding. I slid the glass open and was almost knocked over when Snooki came bounding in, all fifty pounds of her, shoving herself through the opening before I could get it all the way. The smaller one, Roxy, followed skittishly in her stead, looking up at me for permission to enter. “Come on, silly,” I said, calling her in. I filled their bowls and pulled my long blond hair into a ponytail to keep it out of the way while I made breakfast.
     “Eggs and toast okay?” I asked, switching on the stove and grabbing the eggs out of the fridge.
     “Sure,” Lilly smiled, and shot off down the hall and back into her room. When she came out, she had her backpack slung over one shoulder and my cell phone in hand, intently playing the Angry Birds app that she was so addicted to.
     “Eat,” I said, placing her plate of food and glass of chocolate milk at the table. “I’ll be out as soon as I’m ready.” I glanced at the microwave and saw that I had just under twenty minutes to get ready for work. I padded down the hallway and quickly threw on my black polo shirt, the emblem for Ocala National Bank richly embroidered on its left side, and tucked it into a pair of boot cut jeans.
     I had my toothbrush hanging out of my mouth and deodorant in my hand when Lilly bellowed “MOM! We’re going to be late!” from the front of the house. I finished in the bathroom, threw on my black flats and hauled ass out to the living room where Lilly stood, one eyebrow up, and a brown paper bag held high.
     “I made my own lunch, thank you very much,” she stated, smugly. “I also put my dishes in the dishwasher and put Snooki and Roxy in their crate. I’ve got your keys, your phone and your purse. Let’s get this show on the road.” With that, she twisted on her heel and walked out the front door, leaving it open in her wake. I could do nothing but giggle and follow her, wondering sometimes exactly who took care of who.

Tuesday, May 28, 2013

WRITING/PROMPT: A Note From the Past

[Prompt: Playing in the hallway one day, your kids accidentally bump into your grandfather clock, which has been in the family for years. As it smashes into the ground, you find a note hidden inside from your great grandfather, who died two months after you were born. Strangely enough, the note is addressed to you.]

“You’re never gonna catch me!” Bailey squealed as she raced out of the living room and into the long hall, her older sister, Taylor, only steps behind her. 

“Bring that back you little rodent!” Taylor fumed as she followed Bailey onto the wood floor, arms stretched in front of her in attempt to catch the thief. Her fingers had almost reached the corner of Bailey’s makeshift flying cape before the smaller one tripped over her own feet and tumbled. Taylor, unable to stop in time, echoed her sister’s movements and they both careened to a stop, sliding into the massive grandfather clock at the end of the corridor.

My heart leapt out of my chest when I heard the deafening crash.  I sped from the kitchen to where the girls were, praying to God that they were alright as I rounded the corner. All I could see was the tip of the clock pointing at me and two little pairs of legs sticking out of the gap. I froze for a millisecond, water dripping from the plastic dish gloves before fight-or-flight kicked in and I rushed over to them, lifting the heavy clock enough for them to escape from beneath. It landed all the way on the ground with a loud thud.

Two little sets of eyes stared at me, huge and waiting for me to unleash my wrath. When all I did was swoop them both into a giant hug and start checking each body part for damage, they couldn’t believe it. Satisfied that both were perfectly okay, I took a second look at the two and sighed. “I have not been that scared in a long, long time and right now, I am so thankful that neither of you was seriously hurt,” I said, turning back toward the clock, which has been in my family as long as I can remember.  “The clock, on the other hand, does not look so good.” My hands were still shaking as I looked down and realized I still hadn’t taken my gloves off. Something on the ground caught my eye as I peeled the plastic first from one hand and then the other. I bent over to pick up what looked like a piece of paper. It was folded and dusty and yellowed with time

“What is it, mommy?” Taylor asked. I almost jumped, having forgotten the girls were still there.

“I don’t know, sweetpea. Let’s have a look.”  I knew Brad would yell at me if I tried to stand it back up by myself, so I made my way back into the kitchen, leaving the clock in its downed position. The gloves made a smacking sound as I threw them on the counter and focused on the paper in my hand. Opened, it was the size of a half sheet, and on it was a note from my great grandfather.
Caroline, there are two of you. Don’t believe their lies, you need to find your sister.

Sunday, May 26, 2013

I'm going to create a book.... researched BY me for writers LIKE me!

Okay, so the verdict is in. I think I am going to put together a book. After doing all this research and constantly looking for fresh and new ideas, I've decided to take everything I come up with and put it into one collective, so that it may help those out there who are in my same situation. The ability to write, without the ability to build a story from scratch. Sooo... if you have ANY ideas at all that you wouldn't mind sharing with the world, PLEASE email me with your idea and the okay to publish it, otherwise it won't see the light of day. Here is what I am looking for:

  • BASIC PLOT IDEAS - (MC wakes up from a coma and doesn't know who or where they are.) 
  • DEVELOPED PLOT IDEAS - (MC is abducted as a child but escapes. They never catch kidnapper. Ten years later, MC bumps into someone at a local store and recognizing their scent knows without a shadow of a doubt that it was their kidnapper. It's been so long that kidnapper doesn't recognize child grown up, but now MC is left with a choice. Does MC leave it alone or go after kidnapper in the attempt to finally put them to justice?)
  • STORY STARTERS -  (Actual dialogue or writing that could be used as first lines. ie:  We had been searching for it all night and now, with the sun so close to rising, it was too late. The world would never be the same.)
  • STORY STARTER PROMPTS:  (Not "the think about a time you were angry and write about it" type prompts. Give a defined situation for the author to write about. Your character is on the road, driving, when their car breaks down. It looks like they are in the middle of nowhere. Where are they going? Where did they come from? Are they running away or simply on a business trip?)
  • MAJOR CHARACTER SKETCHES - (For main characters: Full blown info about character from name/age/dob; physical description; traits; current info as well as their background story. I actually have a profile to fill out if you're interested I can email it to you)
  • MINOR CHARACTER SKETCHES - (For side characters: Info about character from name/age/physical description; traits & quirks)
  • CHARACTER TYPES - (ie: supernatural - for example: "Dreamwalker" - someone with the ability to appear in other people's dreams.)
  • OBJECTS - ("Magic Mirror" - a hand mirror that can see what's going on at that exact moment anywhere else in the world)
Those are just some of the main things I  will be focusing on, but if you have any other ideas, please feel free to throw them at me. Too much is ALWAYS better than not enough!

Anyway, that's it for now. Back to my actual writing... which I have finally gotten a basic plot going for my zombie apocalypse story! WOOT! Wish me luck.


Friday, May 24, 2013


  • You’re on your way to a perfectly ordinary day at work when suddenly a sign looms up before you that says “Road Closed.” You’re forced to take an unmarked detour down an unfamiliar road that seems unusually devoid of traffic. Is it an ordinary short cut, or is something more ominous going on? What awaits you around the next corner? Will the pavement suddenly and inexplicably end? Have you crossed into the proverbial twilight zone? 
  • Create your own mythos– H.P. Lovecraft did it with Cthulhu and the elder gods, and others have done it since (like Alan Campbell and the mythos of Ulcis and Labyrinths that rises out of the novel “Scar Night” or the Faith of Yevon from Final Fantasy X.) Write the stories that tie the gods, goddesses and other aspects of divinity and faith together for an entire people, then make a series of short stories (or even just one, like a creation story) out of them, almost as if you were the chief historian or head theologian dedicated to the preservation of all knowledge associated with this interesting and unique faith.
  • Go somewhere that there are people, but not too many people (like a coffee shop, a class room, an airport terminal, an airplane, a business meeting, etc.) and then imagine that you (and the people around you) are suddenly the only people left on Earth. How does the story unfold? Do you all survive? Does someone die? What happens to this last, tiny fragment of the human race? Are there, by some freak miracle, others in similar situations lost in distant corners of the globe?
  •  Craft a speech. It could be a future politician’s rallying cry, the war plans of a freedom fighter operating out of the underground, or the lost words of some hero (or villain) from the past. Make it real, make it crisp, make it strong and full of power augmented by whatever emotion the “speaker” is trying to convey, whether it be anger, pride, or a solemn sadness.
  • Write a story about a place that comes into existence only once every hundred years or on some other rare basis, presenting itself as mythical and meaningful whenever it appears. It could be a restaurant, an island, a bar, an outhouse, or anything else. The person (or people) that encounter it can be oblivious tourists totally unaware of the majesty of it all, someone actively hunting for this mythical place, or anything in between. Make the place unique, give it character, make it stand out.
  • Write a story that incorporates ideas or things that seem fantastically outside the norm of reality (like trees of glass and crystal that live and grow, or men and women that exist in a state of pure plasma.) What is life like in this new reality? What is different? What is the same? Be creative, and feel free to let your mind go places it would normally fear to tread.
  • Write a story (though it could take the form of a mock interview or anything else) where the main character (even if [especially if!] it’s the narrator) is clearly under the influence of some kind of drug. It could be a hallucinogen, sodium pentothal (truth serum), some illegal substance, or even just a heavy dose of something prescribed by a doctor, but get creative with it. Cast the light on its effects, how it feels to be under its influence, and describe what the character sees that’s different or isn’t there (if anything.)
  • In contrast (or perhaps in comparison) write a story where the main character is at the mercy of some kind of multiple personality disorder. He/she could be like a collective of souls, the victim of a botched possession, a simple psychotic, or anything else you can think of. Get creative. 
  • Write a story where a dark secret in a character’s past comes back to haunt them. It could be anything from the blatant closet skeleton of a murder to something much more subtle and much more on the direct, everyday, human level. Whatever it is, make it real enough (no matter how fantastic it is) that the reader really feels it, really understands the haunting nature of it.



  • A man who can see ghosts voluntarily checks himself into an institute. Little does he know, that institute has been closed for thirty years.
  • A young girl has dreams of a dragon. In one of the dreams, the dragon says "you made me". The girl, so obsessed with the idea of dragons now, grows up to be some sort of genetic scientist that can actually create & hatch a baby dragon.
  • A family of five is driving across the desert on their way to vacation in California. They get lost, then the car breaks down in the middle of nowhere. The cell phone is dead and the sun is setting. The kids are hot, tired, and hungry. Mom is scared and frazzled. Dad, a mid-level sales manager with no survival skills, is frustrated and angry. An animal howls in the distance.
  • The only thing that Daniel ever wanted was to be a musician. He loved playing piano more than anything in the world. But after his mom and brother died in a car accident, Daniel’s dad insisted he become active in sports and drop the music. And being active wasn’t enough. He had to be captain of the team or suffer through endless jibes and insults that his father uttered through a beer-induced haze. Then, on his eighteenth birthday, a delivery man brings him a piano, and tells the boy that it’s from his father.
  • The sky is laden with dark clouds and the land is buried under a blanket of pale, gray snow. The ground, the streams, and the lakes are frozen and the whole world is eerily quiet and still. It’s the perfect day for . . .
  • You’re flying somewhere — anywhere — but when your plane lands, you and the other passengers quickly realize you didn’t reach your intended destination. In fact, you’ve arrived in a strange, wondrous (or terrible) world that you never knew existed.
  • On the first day of school, two best friends discover a terrifying secret about one of their new teachers.
  • It’s a great time of year for a garage sale. You can have one of your own or take a Saturday to tour all the sales in your neighborhood. Maybe you’ll find a unique treasure with special qualities.
  • All the kids are looking forward to the winter break. There’s a school-sponsored ski trip, and one girl is aching to go so she can try snowboarding for the first time.
  • There is a light drizzle. The skies are mostly cloudy but the sun is doing his best to show his face. A man and woman stand beside a car outside of a convenience store. They are arguing.
  • After a twenty-year career as a successful, underground singer with a voice that gives audiences chills, a singer with no other skills or experience loses his or her voice.
  • A young, professional dancer injures her knee and can never dance professionally again. She decides if she can’t move to the music, she’ll make it. Which instrument does she choose and why?
  • Write a monologue in which your character summarizes his or her life story; be sure to write it in the character’s voice
[credit:] all of these prompts were gathered at

Tuesday, May 21, 2013

OBJECT: Magical picture frame

You find a magical picture frame that brings whatever photograph is in it to life... or at least full movie motion.

[idea] would be good to have for police who are trying to solve a murder. If they had any photo evidence, it could show the killer in the act or at least get them more to go on.

Monday, May 20, 2013

PROMPT(s): multiple prompts from 2010 v2

[credit:] ALL of these are also from promptfest 2010

The Wait is Over 

After a year’s wait, you finally strike—it’s yours. But once you get home, you discover that it’s nothing—nothing—like you thought it’d be.

Test Drive

You go on a test drive in a new car. With the dealership representative in the passenger seat, you pull to the side of the road, turn off the engine, and lock the doors. 
“There’s something I should tell you,” you say.

Plenty of Fish in the Digital Sea

You venture into the world of online dating. Browsing through profiles, you drop your coffee mug and it shatters on the ground—it can’t be.

Clash of the Characters

Create a scene using four characters: One based on yourself, one based on someone you personally know, one based on someone you heard about in the media, and one spawning strictly from the imagination. Make the media story the hook or reason they’re all together, and base the scene around that.

A Second Day of Valentines

It was Valentine’s Day. You took your date to a movie–only it wasn’t the Valentine’s Day epic you had imagined, and what happened in the seat in front of you only reinforced that.

A Suitor for the Suitcase

A man enters your subway car with a small suitcase. He places it under a seat and gets off at the next stop. You eye the “LEAVE NO PACKAGES UNATTENEDED” sign. Another man boards the train, picks up the suitcase, takes something out of it, and moves it down a seat. At the next stop, he leaves and a woman enters, takes something out of it, moves it down a seat and exits. And then another. Finally, it’s placed under your seat.

The Last Thing You Expected to See on the Menu

The waiter handed you a menu. Only what was written inside wasn’t merely a listing of food
The Chairman

Your father made the chair when he was a boy, and it’s gotten rickety. Preparing to finally throw it away, you flip it over to carry it to the trash, and notice a message etched in with a knife.

PROMPT(s): Multiple prompts from 2010

[credit:] ALL of these come from Promptfest 2010

The Tapping (courtesy of WD’s Scott Francis)

You are awakened in the middle of the night by a strange tapping noise coming from your attic. You decide to investigate, and after moving a few old boxes, you find what appears to be a telegraph receiver hidden in a small hole in the wall.

Breaking Down

A tire blows out as you’re in the car with someone on the verge of his or her own breakdown. Stuck in a small town, you’re about to do something you haven’t done in years.

Prompts, courtesy of bestselling author Dianna Love

Below are five opening lines for a scene. The first three are in third person, the fourth is in first person and the fifth can be either one. You can change the point of view from third to first or first to third. There are no names, so you pick the characters. Write the first scene that comes to mind. Don’t worry about being correct on anything—just write and have fun.  

He opened his eyes and slowly took in his surroundings, searching for one thing that looked familiar.

If she didn’t make the last ridge before the portal closed in the next 15 seconds, she’d end up losing her bounty and getting blood on her new solar boots.  

He appreciated having a choice, but generally he was given at least one option that allowed for a chance to walk away alive even if he had to sacrifice dignity.  

My mouth fell open in shock at the gangly man carrying a cardboard box, not believing he would dare to enter my real estate office again.   

A palomino horse trotted into the yard sans rider, daisies braided into the mane and a sword hanging from a leather loop on the saddle. 

Your Story Contest No. 22

Suffering from a mid-life crisis, a 50-year-old businessman quits his job and goes on a quest to “get the band back together.”
 —From The Writer’s Book of Matches by the staff of fresh boiled peanuts: a literary journal

Vacation From Vacation 

With your cell phone and souvenirs in hand, your torn map falls to the ground. 
“He wasn’t even supposed to be here,” you mutter. 
And just like that, you need a vacation from your vacation.

The Agreement (courtesy of WD Editor Jessica Strawser)

You consider the stranger’s odd request and decide to agree. What do you have to lose? And just like that, you’re not alone on your adventure.

Rising Sun (courtesy of Jessica Strawser)

A man in a business suit, briefcase handcuffed to his wrist, stands on a quiet beach watching the sunrise.


“Why did you cut it all off?”

She stares out the window.


Self-Help Surprise

A self-help guru makes you an offer you can’t refuse, no matter how much you’d like to.


You try to snap a discrete photo—but it just doesn’t work out that way.


The sun is setting in dramatic hues of pink and tangerine, but nobody is watching it—they’re all staring at him, instead.

Strangers on a Train

You’re on a train and for some reason have missed your stop—which, as you soon discover with the stranger sitting next to you, is a blessing in disguise.

Something comes down your chimney, but it’s not exactly Santa. In your bed, you stir as you hear footsteps.


It’s Dec. 31, and you’re scrambling to make a resolution come true that you made last year. The sun is setting, and it’s time for action.

Your Story No. 24 

Parents look on in horror as a magician’s trick goes horribly awry during a child’s birthday party. —From The Writer’s Book of Matches by the staff of fresh boiled peanuts: a literary journal

Raising the Alarm

Yet again, you draw a breath, mumble an apology, and pull the fire alarm at the shopping mall.


Trapped in the Ice

Your car breaks down in the midst of a blizzard—and a critical cell phone call. Trudging through the snow, you discover something frozen in ice that will prove to be invaluable in the moments ahead.


Cellular Apologies 

A stranger asks to borrow your cell phone. You agree. She turns away and talks on it for a moment, then faces you once more. 
“I’m sorry,” she says, eyes red. “I’m so sorry.” 
Then, she runs away.

Your 15 Minutes

You’re watching a daytime talk show. A familiar face walks onto the stage, you drop what you’re holding and she utters your name on national television.


The Broadcast Boon

You’ve never done it before, but this time you call in to the radio station. You win something you didn’t anticipate—or want.

Sunday, May 19, 2013

PLOT: warning from a stranger

MC is warned by a stranger not to go to a certain place at a certain time. MC has no clue what they're talking about until something happens (think big explosion or such) at said place and time. It's up to you to decide why they were spared by the mysterious person or who that person was.

PLOT: car jacking gone wrong

Based on the Urban Legend for a gang initiation. Car gets bumped from behind. When the driver gets out to check for damage, the driver of the first car kills unsuspecting victim.

INFO: dial #77 for police dispatch

Here is a piece of interesting info that could possibly be used in a scene:

In some states, if you dial #77/*77 you can reach a police dispatcher. If not, call 911.

There have been instances reported of people being pulled over by unmarked police cars who end up not truly being officers. Most often, they are rapists trying to attack female drivers, but in some cases they could be criminals looking for a different mode of transportation, or attempting to rob the drivers. They say it is always recommended to keep driving to a safe area if you are pulled over by the police, especially if its unmarked and in a lone setting.

Prompt: Circle of Witches

A circle of tall boulders is comprised of witches who have been turned into stone. Tell the story of how they got there or of them coming back to life.

Saturday, May 18, 2013


[ - Weekly Writing Prompt: While preparing your garden at the beginning of spring, you find the blueprints for your house buried in the earth. When you pull it out and examine it, you find that there is a room in the blueprint that doesn’t exist in your house. Both disturbed and intrigued, you set off to find the missing room. Write what happens next.]   

     "The bags of mulch," my mother stated, looking intently at me as if I knew what she was talking about.
     "What?" I asked, confused as usual.
     "The bags of mulch aren't going to move themselves, Lucy." She sighed and stabbed the bag of red mulch with her shovel, pushing it in my direction. "Open one and start dragging it along the border I made."
     I only made it a step or two before she barked, "Wait!" I stopped, Mother-May-I style.
     "Put these on first," she threw a pair of cloth gloves at me, which I obediently slid over my hands.
     This was not how I wanted to spend my first free Saturday in months, spreading mulch and playing in the dirt. But if we were going to sell the house, it needed to be done. So I walked over to where she stood, grabbed the first plastic sack and began to unload its contents where she'd told me to. Seconds later, I heard a clank and my mother's poorly hidden stream of curse words. I looked over my shoulder to find her poking at the dirt with the metal shovel tip.
     "There's something here," she said.
     "It's probably just a root or something," I said, wiping the sweat from my forehead before it dripped into my eyes. God, I hated living in Florida. The humidity was unbearable.
     "Roots don't clank." She dug around some more until a round metal tin surfaced enough for us to get it the rest of the way out. It was a simple metal cylinder about the size of a paper towel roll, capped at one end, no marks, no...well, nothing.
     We looked at it like it was an alien life form. "What the hell is that thing?" I voiced the thought that was running through both our minds.
     "Hell if I know," she answered. "Let's open it and see?" The last was more of a question than anything. She finally looked at me instead of the container, basically asking my permission to open it.
     "Go for it. The worst it could do is chop off your hand," I shrugged my shoulders and giggled as she flung it to the ground.
     "Oh, sheesh, Ma, I was just kidding." I bent down and picked it up for myself, expecting it to be heavier than it was. Nothing happened when I popped it open. A monster didn't jump out at me, no mysterious smoke came pouring out the top, which from the look on my mom's face, is what she had expected to happen. I tipped it upside down and a rolled up paper came sliding out.

     “Who buries their blueprints in the front yard?” I asked, incredulous. Here I was, thinking we’d hit some big lottery winnings or something really interesting and all I got for my excitement was a sheet of paper with a blue sketch on it. Yippee.
     Without looking at it any further, I shoved the design back into the tube and smacked the top closed.  It’s too bad… there was a lot more to that old house than first glance.

PROMPT: A secret unleashed

In a drunken or drug-induced haze, a close friend admits something very dark to you. Do you keep the secret or is it something so horrific you can't even pretend to go along with it?

PLOT: internet killer

I was browsing through fiction prompts and saw the heading: Once Upon a Tweet. It consisted of an author who told a story through prose bursts a tweet at a time. This got me to thinking... tweeting can be so anonymous. And so many people communicate this way nowadays. Either through tweeting, or Facebook, Tumblr, pinterest... the internet is so mainstream that everyone is connected somehow. What if.... a serial killer were to use something like Tweets, or YouTube videos as a way to broadcast his kidnapping/killings. I wonder how long it would take for someone to catch on to a random "I'm going to kill today" Tweet. And then maybe followed with. "I found my victim. Her name is ___. I picked her up in the parking lot of a grocery store." How long would it actually take for someone to realize that this was not a joke and indeed something real. I was thinking the killer could maybe even post a video on "YouTube", or something similar of course, and maybe even found his victims by perusing the "facebook" style sites. Call him the Internet Killer or something catchy.

The MC could either be his next target or involved with the investigation. I don't think I could write a good cop character as I have no idea what goes on in that lifestyle. But someone who had to have short interactions I could probably handle. Maybe the MC has been getting visions and she helps the police out. Or, maybe they believe she's the next target, etc. Help me out here guys if you have any thoughts, I'd appreciate it!!

WRITE THIS STORY: a writing prompt

Choose two people who you know well and write a detailed character description of each one. Next, change their gender, name, and physical traits. Begin a story with both characters standing on the platform of a train station, waiting for a train.

credit: [poets&writers]

Begin a different story with both characters: trying to get the same bartenders attention at a local pub
Begin a different story with both characters: interviewing for the same job

WRITE THIS STORY: a writing prompt

There are two men sitting in the booth of a diner eating dinner together and talking. A woman sits outside in a parked car, watching them through the window. Who are they? What is their relationship to one another? What are the men discussing? What is the woman thinking? What does she do next? Write a story that opens with this scene and explores these questions.

credit: [poets&writers]

WRITE THIS STORY: a writing prompt

You walk into a dimly lit room at a party where you’ve arrived with a friend. The walls of the room are lined with reptile cages. Across the room you see someone you recognize, and when you turn to your friend he or she is gone. What happens next?

credit: [poets&writers]

WRITE THIS STORY: a writing prompt

Write a scene involving two characters. One of the characters knows that the other is keeping a secret from them and what that secret is but hasn't let on that they know. Have the two doing some mundane task where they don't actually have to keep direct eye to eye contact with each other and using their actions and dialogue express the tension between the two without actually having to discuss the secret.

credit: [poets&writers]

Friday, May 17, 2013

PLOT: Vengeance

I was thinking this more along the lines of a YA novel, but could be done well at any age. MC is a typical high school jerk, socially popular, comes from a well-off family and is not humble in any way, shape or form. Never takes anything serious and has a tendency to use the girls he dates. In comes FMC, a very beautiful mysterious new girl to the school. MC decides to add her to his collection, but FMC wants nothing to do with him. After one attempt where MC goes too far, FMC casts a spell on him that all his true fears come to life and he has to face them each day. The story could go a bunch of different ways from there...

Thursday, May 16, 2013

PLOT: Transported into Fantasy

Group of people who roleplay together somehow end up in the actual fantasy world. They either have to fight their way out or maybe possibly end up staying in the new world instead of escaping back to reality.

PLOT: Sugar Daddy

MC is a 20-something college student who is over her head in student loan debt. So she and her roommate come across a website that sets them up as college students looking for "sugar daddies". They visit with the men and in turn are paid for whatever services they offer. Things go very wrong when MC's roommate ends up dead and either MC saw everything or it ends up being one of the clients and now she's next on the list.

PLOT: rags to riches

A  sibling makes every effort to find their long-lost brother/sister. Before they can track them down, they die, but in the will they've left the sibling a sizable amount of money/land/etc... A month or two later, the sibling is found (possibly homeless?) living destitute and is given the news of their brother/sisters death and fortune. This could go several ways... it could be a romance (maybe the person that tracked the person down helps get their act together & falls in love with them in the process) - a thriller (maybe the sibling was murdered & they somehow get involved due to the inheritance) - a drama (maybe they take the fortune they've inherited and open a huge homeless shelter for people like them)

PLOT: Reunited

Two siblings who were adopted separately at an early age have been searching for each other for years. When they are finally reconnected, they come to find out that they have been living on the same street for almost 2 years! You can have them never have met each other, or you can go a step further and they could have had many a run in with each other and either become best friends or possibly even dislike one another for whatever reasons.


     There was no moon in the sky tonight. I sat, legs crossed on the front porch swing, the cherry of my Marlboro the only light in the quiet blackness.

     The wind picked up. A relaxing whisper of cool air in the otherwise stuffy heat of Florida weather. Usually, I liked sitting alone. But not tonight. Something about the whispering wind had my heart racing.
     I flicked my cigarette and stood up. It was then that I noticed it. A shadow. Barely visible at the end of the driveway. I was afraid to move. Afraid to breathe. Maybe if I just stood completely still...

WRITING: The Beginning of the End

Her face, if you could call it that, was mere inches from mine. One eyeball hung from its socket, dangling loosely by a wire thin chord. The left side of her mouth was still intact, lips twisted upward while the other half had been ripped clean off, bare teeth and jaw forming a grotesque smile. Two holes stood where nasal cavities once connected to the flesh and bone of a cute button nose.

WRITING: Work in progress

     An awkward silence swept across the room as she stepped in.  Heads swiveled in her direction, eyes filled with sorrow, faces bathed in pity. She gripped the textbooks even tighter to her chest, so tight that her knuckles turned ashen and her fingers lost all feeling. Her gaze turned down as she walked past them, steadying her sights on the tiled floor until she found her desk. The loud drone of the bell signaled the beginning of class and along with it returned the normal hustle and bustle of student chatter.

     "Welcome back, Tess," acknowledged Mr. Pierce from the front of the small room. "It's good to see you."

     She managed a slight nod and what could be construed as a mumbled "yeah," praying that he would just get on with the lesson.

PLOT: Love is Blind

Ella is a successful 26 year old editor. She spends so much time focused on work and taking care of her grandmother who raised her, that she never does anything for herself. Her best friend decides its time for a change, so she secretly enters her to be on a reality TV show: Love is Blind [or other name]. Ella's in for the surprise of her life when she's picked as a contestant.