Rudolph and Isadora, Part 28

      "Alisen, what are you talking about?" Rudolph interrupted her before she could start with her plan. "Why do we have to leave now?"
     "Taliss is getting bored. Can't you tell? Soon she'll kill one of us just to have a change around here." Alisen's eyes were wide, and she was speaking as loudly as she dared, but Rudolph wasn't reacting.
     Taliss, in the opposite corner of the cave, flicked her ears but did not give any indication she had heard.
     "Rudolph! Listen to me!" said Alisen. "Snap out of it! Listen to my plan!"
     "Alisen, there's no point. Anywhere we go, Taliss will reach us in no time. Besides, we can't get out of the cave. I want to get out as much as you do, but I just don't see it happening." Rudolph stared at the nearly-frantic girl, and she stared back, openmouthed.
     "Rudolph, I don't understand... You want to get out, don't you. Well, if you're going to do it, now is the time. I have a plan to get us out of here."
     Rudolph raised his voice enough for Taliss to hear and sat up. "Alisen, now is not the time. Now I'm going to go to bed."
     Alisen, nearly in tears, turned away and curled up in a far corner of the cave. Taliss smiled and closed her eyes. Rudolph buried his head in his pillow, horrified at what he'd done to his new friend. But he'd had to.
     The next morning, Alisen woke to an empty cave. Bootprints led to a fissure in the wall of the cave, now sealed. Near the opening, a piece of paper lay on the ground. It read:

Alisen-
Gone to fetch help. Wouldn't let you come because Taliss would kill you if she found you. The hunt for me should be enough to satisfy her boredom. You're safe staying here. I'll come back for you.
          Rudolph

Part 27

Rudolph settled down for the night between two monstrous pillows. Alisen lay on the other side of one of them, singing a song of good dreams and nighttime. Rudolph listened in the pale light to her soft voice, feeling himself drift into sleep.
"Rudolph?" Alisen called out, pausing in her song.
"Hmm....?" Rudolph was groggy, his mouth dry.
"We need to get out of here." She pushed the pillow away, so she could see his sleepy face. Rudolph pushed back his hair and rested his head on his elbows.
"Hmmm...?"
"And I have a plan. Listen..."

Rudolph and Isadora, Part 26

     "I-- I'm very sorry." Isadora glanced down, unsure of what to say. People didn't usually go missing when they were of high enough rank to know her family. "Is there... anything I can do?"
     "No, of course not. I'm sorry even to have to tell you. But Jodra and I, we just can't ignore that fact that she's gone."
     "Why on earth wouldn't you tell me? I'll go back home, send out a search party..."
     "Why would they send out a search party for her? It's not illegal for her to go into town herself and stay for a couple of weeks. And besides, you can't go home now... Wait, you'd send out a search party?" Quin was looking at her strangely, and at once Isadora realized her mistake.
      "Oh, you know. Get some people together and whatnot," she said hurriedly, trying to cover up.
      "Isadora, I told you about my family. What are you hiding about yours?"
      "Nothing, really. Just... my family has some rank in the kingdom." She looked down at her lap and crossed her fingers, hoping he wouldn't inquire further.
      "I guessed as much. It was obvious you hadn't done much work." He smiled at her and she stood up, putting a hand on his shoulder.
      "Well, I suppose all secrets are out then. I'm going to get ready for bed." As she walked away, her smile began to tremble and she realized she would never be able to tell Quin the truth.

Writing Games Challenge

Politick, I've done it as well. See for yourself.

1 page:
     "Bernard, get over here!" Lissa's shout echoed in the near-empty courtyard.
     "Alright, you don't have to let the whole world know." Bernard and his page stepped into the courtyard to join her. Trying not to let his armor clank, he stood beside her. He was about to speak when she asked, "What took you so long?"
     "I had to... show Alvin where to put the horses." He glanced around uneasily as Lissa rolled her eyes.    "You're sure you want to go through with this Liss?"
     "Yes. And you can't back down now that you're a real knight. You even brought along that ridiculous page. You’ve been though training. You knew what you were up for.”
     "Excuse me," Alvin said quietly, "but I believe we have company."
     "Blast! Let's go, Liss. Please?" Lissa could see Bernard's knees shaking in his hand-me-down armor. He was much more frightened than she, but she wouldn't let him back down. Bernard had barely managed to become a fully-fledged knight, and he had only done it because she had been pushing him through, step by step, knowing that the only way she’d ever hold a sword was if it had been taken from his sheath.
     "No, Bernard. Don’t you dare mess this up for me. Come here, you big flying lizard, you. Let's see your worst." As she spoke, the "flying lizard" appeared on the rooftop facing them. Even Lissa had to gasp. When Bernard had taken this job, the frightened villagers they were supposed to be protecting who had described the dragon had failed to mention how terrifying it was. With cruel yellow eyes, razor-sharp teeth, and a barbed tail over 10 feet long, it snarled and flew, almost carelessly, down to the courtyard. Bernard was paralyzed in fright.
     “Liss…” he managed to whisper.
     “Shut up Bernard. Complain to your page.” Liss grabbed Bernard’s sword as he stumbled back almost crushing Alvin, who had been cowering behind him.
     “Sir Bernard, can we go, sir?” Alvin squeaked, near fainting.
     “I’m with you Alvin,” Bernard said, as softly as he could muster, which didn’t seem to be nearly soft enough. His voice wasn’t working right, and his armor was making a racket, the ill-fitting pieces hitting each other with his involuntary shaking.
     Lissa ignored them both. Bernard was a coward – she’d always known that. But she didn’t need him any more.
     "You're not so bad, are you?" she said to the towering dragon. The dragon swooped down to the uneven cobblestones of the courtyard and faced Lissa. Unafraid, Lissa looked into its golden eyes, slitted and evil. She smiled and swung the sword.
     As she saw the massive head begin to fall, she took a step back and turned away. Now, she thought, at last I am the kingdom's champion.


Had I been a more talented writer (and had more patience), I would have written a bit more from before they got into the courtyard, where Lissa was more civil to Bernard. That way it would be clearer as she revealed more and more of her selfish side, giving the reader a glimpse that perhaps it wouldn’t be all that wonderful for her to be the kingdom’s champion. Additional note: I imagined the relationship between Lissa and Bernard to be sibling-like, although they’re not actual siblings.


150 words (exactly):
Agatha sighed. Late again. What Jerry would think of her now. "Charlie! What's taking so long?"
     "Why are we going to see your son anyway, Agy?” Charlie's shout came from inside his room seconds before he came out himself.
     "Jerry wants to meet you. Pop in the carriage now."
     "I've never met a nanny's son before." Charlie bounced in his seat.
     "Yes, dear. Settle down."
     When they finally arrived, Charlie was bursting with excitement. "Wow! Jerry tests out cars?"
     "Yes siree. And as a special treat, he'll let you see the tests. Look, there's one now." Charlie leaned over the fence as the car sped by.
     Suddenly, his face became worried. "Agy, look! A bird with a broken wing, right in the middle of the road! The driver’ll see it, won't he? Won't he?"
     As the driver finished his test. Charlie began to cry.
     "Agy? I want to go home.

Well, there you have it. Rudolph and Isadora will be back tomorrow.

Writing Games- Response

Pica---I decided to accept your challenge. Observe the following:

150 words:

Hilda lit her torch, then the other two, until there was enough light to see down the gloomy pathway leading to the dungeons. Jack knelt, pressing his palm firmly onto the grisly ground.
"She's here all right," he murmured.
"Ay," Hilda nodded. "Which way, Hamish?"
Hamish wet his fingers in his mouth, before holding them above his head to test the air.
"Air's hotter that way." Hamish pointed toward the dungeon doors with his torch.
Jack cringed - he hated dragons. He moaned weakly, "Hilda - you lead."
Hilda was about to yank open the doors when Hamish yelled, "No, Hilda!” She flinched, falling backwards. There was a hiss—and the whole door was in flames.
Jack screamed, seeing brilliant eyes yellow as gold buttons. Hilda thrust her sword into the dragon's flesh. He wiped his brow, relieved.

1 page:

Thomas waved goodbye to his grandmother before stepping outside of his house into the heated June day. On the front porch rested his mud-caked shoes. Thomas already felt the stickiness of sweat spotting his neck. His mouth was as dry as cotton, and laced with the sickly sweetness of his grandmother’s lemonade.
He pulled on his boots, not bothering to lace them - his fingers already felt heavy and clumsy and the thick laces he deemed too difficult to attempt at the moment. He snagged his straw hat from the hook on the porch's column and staggered down the front steps.
Thomas dragged his feet, knocking them against the loose gravel of his front yard, as he made for the dirt road separating him from the sugar cane fields. He squinted, seeing heat shimmering on the road as he walked up alongside it.
VRRRrrrrrrrroommm
"What...?" Thomas shaded his eyes and whirled around. This made him quite dizzy and he kneeled on the road for a spell to clear his head. It was so very hot out that day. Thomas breathed out cool wind form his mouth into the steamy air.
BEEP! BEEP!
A car was approaching - and fast. A shiny black one. It had white hubcaps which quite handsomely complemented the sleek color. Thomas shook his head to concentrate on the speed at which it was approaching and to realize he was in danger. The feeling was slow to come.
"What? But cars don't ever come through here..." The car was getting closer. Thomas stared. Heat made him feel detached - he was so tired from the heaviness that was pressing down on him from all sides. If only he could have so more of that icy lemonade.
The car was so close. A hare hopped suddenly onto the road. The animal startled Thomas back into reality; he launched himself backwards, and as if in slow motion he saw his right shoe slide off his foot and onto the road, and he saw the car's wheels run over the hare, flattening it. And there was his shoe that had slipped off - nestled beside it.


NOW...{mwahahahahha}
we shall see yours...

Part 25

Isadora noticed during dinner that night- lamb and potatoes with herbs- that Jodra looked quite ill at ease. Her expression was one of worry as she sifted nervously through her food.
"Jodra...? Are you alright?" Isadora reached across the table for Jodra's hand, and was relieved that the girl took it without hesitation.
"Yes...yes I sure it is nothing. But all the same..." Jodra sniffed once, and looked down at her feet. "May I please be excused, Quin?", she asked with watery eyes. Quin nodded once, stiffly, not looking at his sister, who left hurriedly. Isadora smoothed out her napkin, which was resting on her trembling knees. She looked at Quin beside her, who was sitting rigidly and whose expression was tight. She began: "Quin? Is...is there something going on?"
"Isa...I'm afraid I have not told you everything about our family. In fact, if you think about it, I am sure that nor Jodra nor I has told you anything about our family. The fact of the matter is...although our father left us when I was but one year of age- before Jodra's birth- our mother left us only a few weeks before your arrival. She had become engaged to a wealthy man from the city who had doted upon her most lavishly. Our mother...having been deserted by our father, was overjoyed at being courted... and loved, I suppose. She agreed most rapidly to his proposal and left with him to the city for a short retreat to celebrate. They were supposed to return the day of your arrival. We have yet to see them, or at the very least hear from them."

Rudolph and Isadora, Part 24

As Quin and Isadora sat across the rough wood table after dinner, Isadora's thoughts wandered. She thought about her life at the castle, and how she was so much happier here with Quin and Jodra. I could stay here, she thought. I could live here with Quin for the rest of my life. She rarely thought of Rudolph any more, as her days were filled with learning how to live like an ordinary person. In just a few weeks away from home, she had learned how to take care of herself, cook a decent meal, wash and mend clothes, distinguish different plants, and keep from losing her way in the woods. Without any servants to help her, she worked hard and was often frustrated and exhausted by the end of the day, but Quin's easy smile and caring words always helped her though it. She had made a pallet to sleep on next to Jodra's bed, and she felt like she had known both Quin and Jodra for years. She realized she wasn't at all lonely any more.
     "Isadora?" Quin's voice snapped her out of her reverie. She smiled at him. "Isadora, I've noticed you stopped talking about your friend. Do you think he's still alive?" Quin put his hands on top of hers, which were folded on the table. "I think we should start looking for him. It's been a while."
     "Rudolph? I don't really know. I hope so, but..."Isadora trailed off as she realized she didn't want to go find Rudolph. She wanted to stay here with Quin and forget all about Rudolph. He was the only thing keeping her from Quin, really. She was surprised she could let go of Rudolph so easily, as he at once been her only friend and she had thought herself in love, but she did not miss him.
     "Quin, let's stay a bit longer. I" -she searched for an excuse- "don't want to leave Jodra alone here. Plus, I don't know where we would even start looking."
     Quin looked at her worriedly. "If you say so, Isa."
     Isadora stood up and put an arm around his shoulders before walking into the other room, saying as she went, "I like it when you call me Isa."
     As she went to bed that evening, she did not think of Rudolph.

Writing Games

Today the Politick and I were hanging out and we decided to play a couple writing games that she has agreed to let me post here.

The first was a story that we wrote line by line, only knowing the last word of the line before. (It's technically called Exquisite Corpse, but we only figured that out later.) I'll indicate the lines with B for Bookbird or W for Wordgirl (because both Pica and The Politick start with P).

B: The stars twinkled with a faraway light as the girl lay on the
W: majestic moose was yawning at the moon, and bored because
B: as everyone knows, all animals are much friskier at the beginning
W: the long stroll - for it was a stroll - back to his broomstick, so that 
B: he could reach the top shelf. It was much too high for him to
W: know how many bats were locked in there, he would need to
B: sneeze. He quickly grabbed a handkerchief and turned away
W: in the trash heap - where other people had already gathered as to
B: grab it. However, he was too late. She picked it up and sent him flying,
W: while clutching the warm hand of her beloved all the while.

W: The dragon landed noisily and drooling fiery spit, watching
B: the clock slowly count down the minutes. She wandered aimlessly
W: walking into walls. The palace guards swooped arresting him for
B: four fruit flies flew, fluttering transparent wings, hovering over the*
W: gleaming portal that led to doom. The ultimate awaiting doom
B: was imminent. He looked around frantically. The door was barred,
W: the windows were firmly shut, and no key was to be found, so
B: as she filled her basket with flowers she remained blissfully unaware
W: that the man was ready to slay the dragon with the use of
B: such a dangerous object. It was not for human possession. He destroyed it.

*I did that line just to see her reaction. Plus, how could you not with a starter word like for?

The second game was a bit longer (and a bit more individual). We would agree on a topic, characters, setting, and something random we had to mention. Then we each had to write about 3/4 of a (handwritten) page using those things, and we compared them once we finished. There was a time limit, but we didn't really stick to it - the point was that we shouldn't take too long doing it.

The Politick's Story
topic: slaying a dragon
characters: 2 men, 1 woman (the men are scared, the women ends up killing it)
setting: dark castle
must mention: the dragon has yellow eyes

Hilda lit her torch, passing its flame on to the other two, until there was enough light to see down the gloomy pathway to the dungeons. Jack knelt, pressing his palm firmly onto the grisly ground.
     "She's here all right," he murmured.
     "Ay," Hilda nodded. "Which way, Hamish?"
     Hamish wet his fingers in his mouth, then held them above his head to test the air.
     "Air's hotter that way." Hamish pointed toward the dungeon doors with his torch.
     Jack cringed - he hated dragons. The vile things always ended up hurting him badly. He spoke weakly, "Hilda - you lead." Hilda sighed, before hiking up her armor -it was for a man, so it kept slipping down her slim shoulders- and strode towards the huge doors.
     She was about to yank them open when Hamish yelled, "No, Hilda! She's there! Right behind the door!" Hilda, whose hand had just grazed the wood, heard a deep growl and flinched, falling back and onto her rear. There was a hiss like gas being lit in an oven - and the whole door was in flames.
     Jack screamed as he saw the dragon nose its way through her bright flames. He saw brilliant eyes - yellow as the gold buttons on the king's lapel. Then Hamish yelled - and Jack saw Hilda thrust her sword into the dragon's flesh and watched it keel over, dripping blood onto the floor. Jack watched the creature die. He wiped his brow and closed his eyes.

Pica's Story
topic: slaying a dragon
characters: 2 men, 1 woman (the men are scared, the women ends up killing it)
setting: dark castle
must mention: the dragon has yellow eyes

     "Bernard, get over here!" Lissa's shout echoed in the near-empty courtyard.

     "Alright, you don't have to let the whole world know." Bernard and his page stepped into the courtyard to join her. 

     "What took you so long?" Lissa asked. 

     "I had to... show Alvin where to put the horses." He glanced around uneasily. "You're sure you want to go through with this Liss?"

    "Yes. And you can't back down now that you're a real knight. You even brought along that ridiculous page."

    "Excuse me," Alvin said quietly, "but I believe we have company."

    "Blast! Let's go, Liss. Please?" Lissa could see Bernard's knees shaking in his hand-me-down armor. He was much more frightened than she, but she wouldn't let him back down.

     "No. Come here, you big flying lizard, you. Let's see your worst." As she spoke, the "flying lizard" appeared on the rooftop facing them. Even Lissa had to gasp. When Bernard had taken this job, the people describing the dragon had failed to mention how terrifying it was. With cruel yellow eyes, razor-sharp teeth, and a barbed tail over 10 feet long, it snarled and flew, almost carelessly, down to the courtyard. Bernard was paralyzed in fright. Alvin was cowering behind Bernard. Lissa pulled the sword from her belt.

      "You're not so bad, are you?" she said. She smiled and swung her sword. Now, she thought, at last I am the kingdom's champion.

The Politick's Story

topic: roadkill

characters: young boy, elderly woman

setting: late 1800s

must mention: someone loses a shoe

Thomas waved goodbye to his grandmother before stepping outside of his house into the heated June day. On the front porch rested his shoes. Thomas already felt the stickiness of sweat spotting his neck. His mouth was as dry as cotton - which was fitting because he was off to pick some for his grandmother from the field across the dirt road. He pulled on his boots, not bothering to lace them - his fingers already felt heavy and clumsy. He snagged his straw hat from the hook on the porch's column and staggered down the front steps.

     Thomas saw heat shimmering on the road. He walked up alongside it.

     BEEP!

     "What...?" Thomas stammered.

     BEEP! BEEP!

     A car was approaching - and fast. A shiny black one. 

     "What? But cars don't ever come through here..." The car was getting closer. Thomas stared. Heat made him feel detached - he was tired.

     A hare hopped onto the road. The care was so close. It startled Thomas back into reality; he lauched himself back and as if in slow motion he saw the car's wheels run over the hare, flattening it. And he saw a shoe, his shoe, that had slipped off as he fell - nestled beside it.

Pica's Story

topic: roadkill

characters: young boy, elderly woman

setting: late 1800s

must mention: someone loses a shoe

Agatha sighed. Late again. What her son would think of her now. "Charlie! What's taking so long?"

     "I can't find my shoe, Agy!" Charlie's freckled face appeared over the bannister. "It's disappeared!"

     "Oh, Charlie. Just get another pair then." She sighed again. That boy. 

     "Why are we going to see your son anyway, Agy? Can't we go to the park instead?" Charlie's shout came from inside his room seconds before he came, hopping as he tied his shoe, out himself.

     "No, Charlie. Jerry has a surprise for you. Pop in the carriage, now." She followed him in and rapped to the roof of the carriage to get the driver going.

     "Jerry? Is that your son? I've never met a nanny's son before." Charlie bounced up and down in his seat. 

    "Yes, dear. Now settle down until we get there."

     When they finally arrived, Charlie was practically bursting with excitement. "Wow!" he shouted. "Jerry tests out new cars?"

     "Yes siree. And as a special treat, he'll let you see one of the tests. Look, there's one now." Charlie leaned over the fence as the car sped by at over 15 miles per hour.

     Suddenly, his face became worried. "Agy, look! A bird with a broken wing, right in the middle of the road! The driver will see it, won't he? Won't he?"

     "I hope so, Charlie. I do." 

     The driver finished his test and parked the car. Charlie slid down to sit with his back resting against the fence. He began to cry.

     "Agy? I want to go home."

That's all we have for now, but I am hereby challenging the Politick (are you reading this, Politick?) to take one of the stories from the second game and to turn it into a short story at least 1 page long typed. AND take the other and turn it into a short story under 150 words. You have until May 30th (Monday night) at 11:59. Good luck.

Hopefully we will have many more posts of our writing games in the weeks and months to come. For now, we'll get back to Rudolph & Isadora starting tomorrow (I'm getting an extension on my post because I took the time to type up all of the writing from today) and The Golden Night whenever I get around to it. Have a great Memorial Day Weekend!

Pica

Part 23

Rudolph was sitting beside Alisen one afternoon when it happened. Alisen had been tracing patterns onto the ruddy floor and humming quietly while Rudolph tugged at a loose string hanging from his tunic. Each time he pulled, trying to snap it off, it unraveled a bit more, until he had removed half an inch of material. Suddenly he felt a cool hand on his, pulling it away from the mess of string. He looked up, right into the green eyes of Alisen. Alisen who was holding his hand, smoothing it out, then setting it on his lap. She looked down once, a light pink arcing over her cheekbones. Her hair swung over her face, obscuring it from Rudolph. Without thinking he reached for her hair to push it back- to be able to see her eyes once more, but she backed away. He followed her as she weaved her way in and out of the high piles of cushions and fabrics. He was reaching out to take her arm, when she spun on him and blurted:

"I loved Willem! I loved him and he's dead..Oh he's dead, he's dead, he's dead..." She hugged herself tightly, sunk to the floor, and balled into a tight knot. "He's gone now and I cannot betray him, not ever."

Rudolph crouched next to her. He thought of Isadora. How long had it been? He felt awful. Away from her from not even two weeks and already he was falling for another girl. And he was sure she was falling for him as well. She just...Well she just understands more than I do about how terrible it is to cheat on someone you care about. But Willem is gone. She is under a lot of stress. I understand...I hope.

Rudolph and Isadora, Part 22

As Isadora's week went by with Quin, Rudolph was getting more and more frustrated stuck in the cave. Alisen and he were well taken care of, but Rudolph was used to spending time outside from his years working as a stablehand before he had, somewhat impulsively, he had to admit, run off with Isadora. Alisen was well-used to living in the cave, and she kept him company, telling him about herself and asking questions about the world outside, which she had not seen for many months. Taliss regularly brought them meat, which she hunted, and clothes, which Rudolph assumed she stole from laundry lines. The days slowly fell into a pattern, which Rudolph slid into neither meaning nor wanting to. He mourned the loss of green grass and walks in the woods, but did not dare approach Taliss to ask for a day in the sunshine. But Alisen filled his days with quiet conversations as they learned about each other and made plans for someday when they had the courage to escape.

Part 21

Isadora leaned back against the ancient oak tree, her long hair twisted into its steady roots and keeping her grounded. Quin was carefully ladling a portion of his stew- carrots, potatoes, and lamb- into two wooden bowls. He leaned back on his heels and blew lightly on Isadora's bowl before passing it to her along with a hand-carved spoon with a bird engraved into its handle. His thumb brushed against her palm as she tried to get a good grasp on it, and she felt her body tingle. She cursed silently. Rudolph. Rudolph. Rudolph. She chanted to herself.
It had been exactly one week since she had attempted to steal away that night. Quin had caught her that night and had walked her back to the house with an arm wrapped around her shaking shoulders. She had not been strong enough to leave that night, she realized. Isadora began to spoon the delicious food into her mouth with such a vigor it was as if she was willing it to give her renewed energy that instant. Choking a bit on the stew and earning herself a concerned glance from Quin, Isadora realized with a start that it had been Quin who rescued her when she had been stumbling around her first night without Rudolph. It was comforting to know there was such a person like Quin, a person who would always be there to catch her, to bring her back. But she also felt stiff annoyance churning in her bones. She needed to help Rudolph. She loved Rudolph. I do love him, she corrected herself with a frown. But I also love Quin.

This is why I love The Politick

First of all, good news! The Politick is back online, and we're both back to writing. Rudolph and Isadora posts will resume this week, hopefully tomorrow.

But anyway, that's not what I wanted to share today. The Politick and I were chatting, and with lack of a better topic, I said:

"I'm changing the subject. writing exercise - u have 120 seconds after i send u a segement of a short story to come up with a paragraph-ish of what happens next OR another part of the same story."

I then sent her this short segment of a story that popped into my head a few nights ago:
Clutching her small pink bag to her chest, she stepped reluctantly into the dingy shop.
“Hello?” she called. There was no reply. The displays sitting on the shelves had a light coat of dust. She cleared her throat and tried again. “Is anyone there?”
Still no response. She watched a spider crawl into a crack in the wall. She stepped forward. Her heels clicked on the concrete through the ragged rug. She pushed aside a curtain and peered into the back room. A man sat facing the wall, eyes closed, head slumped on his desk.
“Sir?” she asked. He didn’t move. She had come too late.

And then I said, "go."

60 seconds later, she sends me this:
"the shop was already closed. she squeezed her eyes hut and opened them, blinking rapidly to clear the colors that dotted her vision. the man was alseep. he was always asleep at the same time. the same time. she knew this, yet she had arrived too late. what was wrong with her? she needed to talk to the man. urgently. she hurried over to his side and tapped on his shoulder. a flash of light and a tugging behind her naval and she hit the wall with a sharp crack and fell to the ground with a sobbing groan piercing the silence. she glared at the man. how dare he turn on his force field when he knew she was to visit him?"

It was so great. Her imagination knows no bounds. I am so lucky to be friends with her. She also sent me a piece of creative writing that I believe she will be posting on her blog, Curious Sparkplug, within the next couple of days.

Another thing I wanted to mention, which is one of the reasons I sent The Politick that challenge in the first place, is to say how wonderful it is to write with someone else. When I wrote those 7 lines, I could not continue the story. I was immediately overwhelmed with questions and directions I could take. Some people complain about not having enough to write - my problem seems to be the opposite. There is so much to write that I couldn't possibly get it all down.

Take the example of the story segment above. That tiny section of text opens up pages of potential things to write about. In my mind (although not in The Politick's), the man was dead. Okay, so if he's dead, who killed him? Why? Why at that particular time instead of some other time? Who is the woman? Why is she in the shop? Does she know the man? Is she looking for something? Does she know the killer? Etc on and on and on... and let's say he's not dead, the route that The Politick took, that opens up even more questions. I'm sure I could fill up pages with ways the story could go, and questions I'd have about where to take it. Actually, that could be a fun writing exercise...

Anyway, getting back to my point, writing with a partner takes away so much of that pressure. I feel very little pressure with these overwhelming questions when I write something like Rudolph and Isadora. Even if I did have something I wanted to investigate plot-wise, I could only do it in my couple of paragraphs. I can't plan ahead for anything, because 9 times out of 10, The Politick will take it in a totally new and unexpected direction. Which is good, because it keeps the story from getting stale. Also, in a story I write by myself (e.g. The Golden Night), I have complete control over how I shape my story. If I choose to go one direction instead of another, that's the way it's going to be and there's nothing to change it. But if I go off in my own direction on a shared project and I miss something important, I have The Politick to cover for me. Working together provides both a safety net, a fresh take on the story, and someone to turn to in case you have absolutely no idea how you're going to get from A to B. What I really want to say is, thanks, Politick, for writing with me.

Check back soon for new Rudolph and Isadora posts as well as a new segment of The Golden Night (I think I finally got chapter two in the general vicinity of where I want it. And it doesn't have to be perfect. That's what rewrites are for).

Pica

Waiting on Chapter Two

So I apologize. I started a new story and then it looks like I just stopped writing. But that's not actually what happened. I have rewritten what I have of chapter two so many times, I'm sick of it. I feel like I can't get it quite right. Any other creative writers out there with suggestions?