Wow, I haven’t blogged in a long time. A LONG time. I mean, I have been busy: I’ve spent the last three years turning a flailing freelance career into a full-time career, writing hundreds of articles, a couple books, and editing some manuscripts. But I’ve always always said: if you really want to write, you write. You find the time.
I miss my fiction the most in the flurry of work, and though I’m not a big maker of New Year’s resolutions, I am a huge fan of dedicated writing practice, particularly inspired by #continuouspractice by Saundra Goldman. I aim to write a little tiny twinkle of fiction as many days of the year as possible. The guidelines will be loose. I will put as few restrictions on the process as possible, with the goal being just that: process. Some of these may be a few lines. Other times pages. Who knows!
I’ll be using prompts gleaned from all over, and invite you to join me. I’ll post my results here, and encourage you to share yours with me.
Writing prompt gleaned from the app “writing prompts” by Writing.Com:
“In an orange room. A nurse. A silver medal. Mint.”
In an orange room things clang silver and sharp and taste like metal. I wonder where I am but only orange light and foreign scents prevail. Somewhere below orange is my body, but it’s numb or distant or far away from me and I can’t remember its precise shape and contours. Meatslab flesh prone to bruising I think, too pale, a stars cape of dark moles like a map to mysteries I must spend my whole life configuring.
Orange ebbs to soft yellow to bright white, sharp again, a light for cutting through and opening up–and behind it a smiling nurse, haloed in mint that squeezes my nostrils with its pungency. A scent filled out by other notes, a mane of scents stitched together with chemical threads to form a perfume that shoulders though gentle air, assaulting.
She comes with instruments to probe and explore, and I turn away at their stabbing proximity, but she grasps my jaw and coos like I am a frightened animal. “Just a looksee.”