It’s a work in progress, and some of the characters introduced here are more than slightly based on actual people I know… though the names have been changed to protect the guilty… But I wanted to share this, and see if it was any good before I got sucked too far into this story: Continue reading A scene from a new WIP.
I’ve been particularly “writerly” lately for reasons that I will explain in a post later in the week. The result is that this week’s #MissMuseMe pic (see below) gave me some ideas of wisdom that might be given to my protagonist (now that I’ve finally figured out what is/may happen in that story I’ve been working on since forever). The pic has nothing to do with the story by itself, but I’m sure you’ll recognize the line it inspired… Or at least I hope you will!
It’s rough, not even a full scene.
And it lacks the character names, as they are still under construction.
But it’s a start!
It’s been too long since I wrote, I mean really really wrote…
It’s been a while since I wrote anything that wasn’t just a recap or some sort of work thing, but one of my goals for this blog is to write more. Tentatively, I’d like Wednesdays to be my day of writing for me.
With that in mind, I’ve written a short story about witches, sailors, love, and pixie piss. I hope you enjoy it!
So, being a blogger I’m already there a little bit.
And occasionally, I do the Tinder or Bumble dating thing, which I suppose means I’ve been in the Digital Age for a while…
But now, I’ve joined Wattpad.
Somewhere there lies a city full of strange and beautiful people who refuse to conform to normalcy. It is the place where forgotten dreams go to be found. All the dreams and hopes that we give up out of fear, for practical reasons, or just because we’ve become too old, all of them settle into this once small village, now a thriving metropolis of music and art and magic.
The busboy, who wanted to be a rapper, tossed his dream out the window with a half smoked cigarette around 14th Street when he decided to take his uncle up on that offer to help run his shoe store. The boy had a song in his head, the last vestiges of his dream, and he hummed a little beat, but never wrote it down. Continue reading City of Remembered Dreams