This one starts and ends a little differently. But hang in there, it does go somewhere.
My stories this year are character focused instead of plot focused. I end each story only when the reader can get a grasp for a part of the character and form an opinion about them.
You never quite understand how structurally resistant a wall can be until you’re knocked through one. The base was built to last through fires, raids, and even area damage bombs. It was not, however, meant to take a four hundred pound Restioxian woman sent through the air at high speed. The same can’t be said the other way around. My people aren’t likely to be brought down by this kind of damage. Even if it did take me a moment to get back up.
“Very good. You’re getting the hang of it.” Read the rest of this entry
I’ve been away for a while, writing, entering contests, learning PHP and getting the Studio to corporate status.
The point to posting this is to tell you that I’ve made it to the semi-finals of the MTV and STAN LEE contest to find a writer for the new comic book called ‘The Seekers”!
This is Aaron’s secondary mind, reporting from the creative recesses of his psyche. We’re here with one of the main characters of Myth; of Men and Monsters. She doesn’t quite understand that she’s a character and she hasn’t gone through any of the events in the story yet, we’ve caught her the day before her first introduction.
Ms. Bo’Fauhn, it’s lovely having you here, are you comfortable?
Yes, very much so, thank you.
Wonderful. Let’s get started as I know you have things you need to accomplish. Can you tell us a little about yourself? Give us some history on you.
My name is Claire Bo’Fauhn. I’m sixteen years old, nearing the end of my Spiriling courses at the Byohar Tower Schools. I’m the daughter of a Ghirault, a nobleman from Fridinlay. Read the rest of this entry
I’ve been sick for the last two weeks. I’ve been sick and I’ve had problems with my left eye. I’ve been sick, had problems with my left eye and my laptop power adapter nearly caused a house-fire which rendered my laptop useless during the last stretch of Story A Day.
But I’m still smiling. Oh, by god, I’m still smiling. Read the rest of this entry
This is the continuation of ‘The Writer’, from the perspective of young Elizabeth Gilbert.
It must be him.
I tied my bonnet down and exited the store. Eyes were upon me, as they have been for a while. I sent myself across the street during one of the long lulls of traffic.
My days seemed to roll into strange circumstances during those early years of my womanhood. From the first steps of my body’s steady voyage to maturity, new events were in constant chase. Quite a few were completely expected and to be taken with grace in the context of my age. Boys and men were taking notice and not for the innocent reasons which once drew their eyes. It was with a more primitive intent I could not altogether avoid. It was true that my own mind brought desires similar to theirs’ but I was one where they were many.
My waking hours were spent avoiding places where they congregated. Saloons and work houses had been taken off my map long ago. The reaction from most women in town was in deep contrast to their masculine counterparts. Perhaps their husbands’ attentions, falling on me at all waking and dreaming hours was the reason for the glares and snubbing. I avoided their places of worship as well. Read the rest of this entry