July 22nd, 2006


Writing Marathon

*beam* That was great. It was good to push back into the writing... and the marathons always open so much up. And it's wonderful to be around these remarkable women (ewin, manifestress, museumfreak, pixelmonster, skyra). Especially when we are all naked.

Prompts, for those who want to follow along at home (write on each for ten minutes; *do not edit*):

Physical prompt: a metal man, very heavy, broken from the top of a trophy
What is holy?
The eye as a camera
What you’ll miss when you die
The cost of time
Sixth Sense
Pudding sex
New Year’s Eves

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I'll likely post some of mine later. My big cathartic one was Sixth sense, a scene that I kept writing past "pudding sex" and "New Year's Eves".

Pudding sex is all skyra's fault.

I am exhausted now, both from spending huge amounts of time writing and from the hot tub.

I have been told that my backbends are sexy.

That is all.

More writing prompts

...that Karla found online...

1. Big Pink Cats

2. Ugly sunsets

3. "An entire city custom-constructed for the third millennium. Everything the body wanted, and nothing the soul needed. Three hundred square miles of grey steel and automobiles."

4. A dying breed.

5. "The world is always ending, for someone."

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Smoke that Slides

Writing Prompt: The cost of time

I stand on the wall at the edge of the city. Below me, I see the funeral pyre.

I should be there. I know I should be there. But I cannot this time. I cannot stand it.

Life after life, loving him fiercely and watching him fall.

I can do this no more. How much can you ask of me?

His laughing eyes, his ready smile, gone forever. Gone again. This time in war, the time before to an animal – stretching back and back and back into antiquity, loving and losing, and then decades, centuries without him; death, rebirth, and brief moments in his arms until he is torn away once more.

Again and again.

The smoke rises up, wreathes me. His last touch. I breathe him in.

Still looking down at my city, I step back off the wall.