Archive for the ‘Word Whimsy’ Category

     Herman Bistecky was a quiet man, very much like his mother. Most felt it was because his father was anything but, so much so that they had to make up for his loud behavior by being demure. His father, Brunner, was a philanderer as much as he was a philanthropist and had a photographic eye that could charm even the Greek goddesses into posing for him. He made good money, though, that allowed his wife to live without a care so she put up with his wandering ways. Brunner, getting up in years, often drank to excess and his mind was not as well honed as it once was. In fact, he would often forget who his own son was and make Herman pose in the oddest outfits. Herman loved his father, though, so he would oblige him and looked on each encounter as an adventure.
     What will he have me be today I wonder, visions of embroidered fabrics and soft, exotic linens running through his mind. Though he loved to read, he often found that he did not need to as he could live out most of his adventures in his father’s studio with his vast array of costumes and props. He had been an Indian, a cruise ship captain, a pirate, a sheik, even the back end of a camel once. Though, admittedly, his father’s antics that day had gotten a little out of hand as the front end of the camel was, in fact, an elephant.
     Today, Herman would not be going on an adventure though. His father still completely smashed from his evening out the night before, Brunner sat quietly staring at his stage, already set. A chair, an ornately carved table, a book and what appeared to be the plumage from a dead ostrich sat in the middle of the room.
     “Father?”
     “Put it on.” Bruner looked up, his eyes still glazed over, smiling wryly as the madness seeped into his eyes. Herman hesitated. “You heard me Cecile. Shut up and put it on.”
     Herman walked over to the chair and picked up what he realized to be a very fanciful hat, possibly from an ostrich, and looked back at his father before letting out a long sigh. Lighting a cigarette, Herman stood calmly between the chair and table, hand resting on the book atop it, appropriately a bible, and silently plotted to kill his father.
     The final straw? His mother’s name was Eunice.

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Reprinted with permission from it’s original post.
All content is copyright 2010 Ana Maria Seaton. Duplication in whole or in part by digital or non-digital means is prohibited without the express written permission of the author.

     She lay sleeping, her hair the color of fire lost in a sea of orange chiffon. The day’s events had been exhausting, her emotions overwhelmed. He sat quietly, watching her, her breathing so soft that he would occasionally shift his visage from her face down her form, checking for the gentle rise and fall of her chest. She was lovely, inside and out, too lovely to have had to deal with her father’s indiscretion and the subsequent chaos that followed. In truth, he was glad that he was dead.
     It was always known that Raphael held no love for Olivette’s father. Growing up side by side, his mother being her family’s cook, he watched as Olivette’s childhood had been obscured by the demon of a man that, as far as he was concerned, had infected her mother.
     At first she had vied for his attentions, fatherly affections that she had every right to, but the futility of reaching out to him made her quiet and withdrawn; something that Raphael had determined long ago to do his best to counter. Her father was the type of monster, not even a man in Raphael’s mind, who preferred treating his wife no better than the broken horse that plowed their fields. Rather than inconvenience himself to show Olivette affection, his own flesh and blood, he would refer to Olivette as “the child” or, in one instance, as part of his “litter” with enough disdain in his voice as though she were a common dog you would throw scraps to in an alley.
     The look that washed over her still burned at Raphael’s heart; he would never forget the pain in her eyes or the sounds of her sobbing into his chest as he held her tight.
     In truth, he was glad that he was dead. He would serve her better as her silent guardian, watching over her as he did now.

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Reprinted with permission from it’s original post.
All content is copyright 2010 Ana Maria Seaton. Duplication in whole or in part by digital or non-digital means is prohibited without the express written permission of the author.

January’s meeting launched our first collaborative word list of the year with 35 words. This year I am upping the bar for our members. Once a month we will generate a collaborative word list and I am asking for final drafts of their stories in time for our next month’s meeting, in this case February 27th. Holding myself to task as well, I have been working on my story on and off, catching moments where I can.

Our meeting was on the 16th so, words fresh in my mind, I began writing the next day. I find, lately, that I am most prolific working in an inexpensive, spiral-bound quadrille notebook. My word list is on another piece of paper that I have tucked into the notebook for easy reference. Out of the 35 words, I have used all but 19 of the words so far and have hand-written about 28 lines on one page. Aside from that, for some reason, I started making dialogue notes on the back of the back of the word list itself.

Trying to use the word list is the most fun I think. It pushes me to expand my vocabulary; some months further than others as we are always trying to mess with each other and throw in a ringer or two. Using the words, finding creative ways to either change their meaning, or making myself find a way to use the word in the tense it was provided, knocks me out of my comfort zone which is good.

Writing, like life, is a constant learning process. Approaching things from new angles and forcing yourself to find new ideas is a real challenge but it keeps your writing fresh and entertaining.

Where are you at in your final draft? Leave a comment below and let us know how it is going!

Well, I am awake. I don’t want to be but I am. My pillow stills beckoning, the glow of the laptop casting ethereal blue shadows across the headboard, Val still mostly asleep, tolerant at my side. It is the morning of NaNoWriMo and the beginning of my decent down the rabbit hole.

This year for NaNo, I have set a hefty goal for myself: Complete two (2) books in one (1) month. Yes, you read that right. Yes, I know, I’m a lunatic.

I have two novels, one that has been eating my brain since last year, and one that is on backburner, rearing it’s horror/thriller genre head occasionally for the stray idea and notation.

Looking forward to our Thursday night Word Whimsy meetings.

For those doing the actual, official NaNo meetings from 9am-12noon on Saturdays we are not going to make it today. We have friends coming over, homework, and housework that got neglected this week due to prepping my new breast cancer cards for a charity function…yes, I will post them on Etsy this weekend. hehe I have several canvases to lay out for show entries and donations this weekend as well. We also have more pumpkins to carve, seeds to roast, and sites to design so I am percolating ideas in between and writing my 2,000+ words today…

I have had a few people ask if we were doing our 1pm meetings every Saturday vs once a month for NaNo-sake and I have no problem hooking up with people outside the schedule we set up. You can reach me at renmeleon@gmail.com anytime so let me know! I’ll also post when Laurel (Petalouda) and I get-together for anyone who would like to crash our meetings. hehe

No matter what you are doing today, I wish you all a very productive NaNo and great success in your personal goals, whether new projects or old as I know a lot of us are writing new content on current projects. I hope your days are full of wordy goodness and that your nights are full of dreamy novel-inducing slumber. May your pen never run dry, nor your laptop battery expire.

Pixelated words percolating in my head…

We had our writer’s meeting on Saturday and it was like old home week. An old friend, someone Laurel and I used to LARP with, came to the meeting with her. We also had a couple of members who had not been able to make the last couple of meetings show up so it was nice to see them.

So what does this mean? We got absolutely nothing done but had a wonderful time.

The word lists seems to be taming out now, people aren’t as bent on messing with other people (read as bent meaning we still do it). The collaborative word list is a fabulous way to push your vocabulary though and is a good jumping off point for story building. For your story’s final draft you can throw the word list out the window completely if you want, it has done its job which was to shove you out of your comfort zone and make you think.

Next meeting is October 11th if you are local. We will be discussing our NaNoWriMo plan of attack for November for those who plan to participate!