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Welcome to Write Away
Write Away is a virtual writers' workshop where writers of all skill levels are welcome to join and participate. We welcome original works from poets, non-fiction writers, and fiction writers of all genres.

Please remember to read the rules and comment on your fellow writers. If you have issues with something or someone, you can contact moderators privately here; since comments on that post will remain screened, please have an alternative way of contacting you back available if you want a response.

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24th-Nov-2009 07:32 pm - acceptances/rejection
ghosty
So, I got, within the last week, two acceptances (of 3 poems total) and one rejection.
I'll have two poems in issue 17 of Breadcrumb Scabs and one in nibble (the next issue!)
The rejection came from Monday Night.
17th-Nov-2009 01:45 pm - Toast for Grasshoppers
hayloft
Two toast poems of mine are featured on the Montreal literary blog, Grasshopper Reads. Check them out here:
http://grasshopperreads.wordpress.com/poetry/

Toast is the theme to a series of poems I am writing. Over the summer, I also shot a film in which a woman eats toast for ninety minutes. It will be released in 2010 and made available for download.

Obviously, these two poems are out in the world already, but I'd still like to know what you think of them, and of the toast project in general.

Do you ever write themed series of poems?

I hope you'll indulge me in a quick plug: check out my http://secretvespers.com/

It has an LJ feed, too: [info]secretvespers.
12th-Nov-2009 10:27 pm - Untitled poem. Comments?
ivan
A brief flash of infinity
Cold hard concrete -- reality
Wind lashes face
Rasps and Howls
Dark elfin creatures
Trodden down
And I see now, leaving this gloom
Upon the Summit, the bright blue moon.
2nd-Nov-2009 01:54 am - Braving the Storms - quicksilver_47
Hands up for blue!

How many times have we, the Filipino people, braved the storms?

                    

In 2006, our country was rendered helpless by the super typhoon Milenyo, and then next, we suffered from the relentless gales of typhoon Reming. Some years later- the year is 2009-, we find ourselves, face to face yet again with another force of nature – the tropical storm, Ondoy, which was, to our dismay, followed closely by typhoon Pepeng.

 

Many of our brothers and sisters, both the rich and the poor, found that they could not escape Ondoy’s and Pepeng’s merciless grasp. For days, our streets were flooded with black, murky and muddy water. There were not enough life boats, and the rescue teams lacked valuable man power. Supplies and rations were fast disappearing. The prospect of a better tomorrow seemed bleak to some, pointless to others, and hopeless to the majority. Lives were shattered, and the once seemingly solid futures were questioned.

 

The Philippines was drowning.

 

 

Read more... )

 


Hands up for blue!

THIS WAS WRITTEN FROM THE STOMACH

            I was born hungry. I was born in a shack, cold and damp. I was born right into the giant grasp of poverty; of hunger. When, like so many of the children who were born at the exact second I was, I cried for milk, my mother, like any mother, took me in her arms, and rocked me, slowly, gently. She held me close, and I could feel her rough hands, that were shaking from labor, run across my face, in an attempt to soothe me. But I was hungry. I was desperately hungry. And so, no matter what comfort my mother offered, I simply cried louder. My lungs were pierced with air that carried the fetid scent of blood, sweat, trash, and rat urine. My stomach, little as it was, shouted, demanded that I be fed; demanded that warm, smooth milk enter my body.

            And then my mother started crying.

 

Read more... )
2nd-Nov-2009 01:38 am - The Painter - quicksilver_47
Hands up for blue!

The Painter

They have asked me to do that which I consider as impossible; improbable.

Ah! These foolish men! They think that to wield the brush is an exact art, one governed by certain rules of science. No. They are wrong; for to wield a tool as noble as the brush is to master the ability of one’s hands. You must be calm. Shaking hands and trembling fingers will only ruin your masterpiece. You must exude an aura of confidence. You must be able to breathe life into the colors that you have befriended, must let them glide across your canvass freely.

These men, they also think that I know everything in the field of the arts. They are mistaken. For I only know that when you paint, your mind must not be restricted, must not be caged. I only know that if you let Blue streak out smoothly, just as the sky above you does, but do not forget that it must too, be savage, inconsistent, just as the sea before you is, then you will achieve realism. And if you let Red sound his war drums in the morning, then in the evening, lay him to rest; let him speak of love and passion, you will understand the magnitude of his voice. I only know that each color, each hue and shade is different; utterly unique, and that you must handle each one with reverence, and with respect.

But, ah, truly they have asked me to do that which I consider impossible; improbable.

Read more... )</div>Read more... )
30th-Oct-2009 08:24 pm - Untitled poem
ivan
I discovered some poems written over 10 years ago. Here's one

Aging changing angry a sign
Displaced from the rat race
Twisted tempered bent and spent
Thoughts meditational,
Non-communicational.
21st-Oct-2009 01:24 am - Ravens Rants

Read more... )</div></div></div></div>"Just what, Raven?! Come on, I'm not that emotional! I can take it like a man!" Mike looked so helpless, he almost looked like a puppy. I glared at him. I know he caught on. "Ok, maybe I am that emotional," he said, so disappointedly, like I just took his puppy treats away, "but he really IS different, I swear!"
"I'm sure he is Mikey, I don't dislike him. I just don't want you crying over another loser again, that's all."
"Oh my gosh, he's right there," his face was beaming, "Xavier, come over, I wanna introduce you to someone!" I glanced at the guy Mike was pointing at, and I already don't like him. Why did he have to be here at the moment? How much longer do I have to play pretend for? There is only so much fake I can do in one day!
"Hey boo. This is Raven, my best friend since ninth grade. And Raven, this is Xavier," Mike looked uneasy, and I think it's because he is wishing on every star he has ever known, that I play nice. It's difficult, but I'll throw in that extra mile for Mike.
"Raven...? It's like...uh... what do you call those things, that uh... you know, flap wings, and.." he looks completely stoned, on some serious drugs. Good taste, Mike, it has definitely evolved.
"A bird. Yes."
      Ohhhhh yeah! Halleluiah, Praise the Lord! I see Grey coming towards our direction, with her two year boyfriend, James. If there is any couple that would last forever, it would be them. But of course, they're only amazing in their own weird way. "Hey Shrimp," James calls out with a smirk on his face. He loves teasing me for my lack of height. But I don't care, it doesn't phase me. I always tell them, 'I know I'm not short, everyone else is just abnormally tall.' "Hi Lobster," I crack myself up. We do our funny handshake that no one else has ever mastered. It's something we made up back when I was finally starting to accept that he will be a permanent part of Greys' life. Yes, we were actually best friends before he ever existed, and now, I cannot picture her being single. It was so hard for me to acknowledge the fact that I won't be number one anymore, but I had to let it go. I always do in the end anyway. "Lobster? Cute Raven, very cute," Grey says, smiling not with her lips, but with her face. She knows how to do that somehow, and everytime she does, I feel so giddy inside. I know I sound like a lesbian right about now, but I promise I'm not. We just have a really interesting friendship, that's all. It's kind of funny watching Grey around James. For someone who is completely cold and distant, is such a mush ball when it comes to James. It makes me sick sometimes. I mean, did you ever hear about keeping all that stuff exclusively between your partner? All right, fine, I'll admit it. In a sense, I love watching them completely alter their personalities for each other. It's as if their true self comes out, something they always hide amongst other people. It's as if they are one, and not two seperate beings. Wait, is this coming out from my head? If I could, I'd stab my brain right about now.
"Did you hear about our new English teacher?" Grey finally distangled herself from James, letting him talk to the guys while we slowly parted away. "Another one? I'm afriad Mr Fischer is eventually going to run out of people to ask for that position."
"Could be, but I heard that she's from Uptown. Rich. Spoiled. Ugh.. all these new teachers to adjust to constantly... it's starting to get just slightly annoying."
"I say we skip. I want to go see how my brother's doing, buy him some lunch. I need to talk to you anyway."
       There's no one in this world that knows me better than Grey, not even myself. Who in the world, besides her of course, with a functioning brain would have the patience to hear my rants and rambles about everything and nothing? She's calm and laid back, despite her tough looking appearance. I don't think she owns anything that looks even remotely alive. Everything she wears is either torn, faded, destroyed somehow, and dark. And despite that too, she is what I call Drop Dead Gorgeous. Slim, tall. And even though she's very pale, her skin is consummate. Not one pore or pimple would dare pop on her face. Her hair, just like her clothes, is very dark. She cut it recently to  right above her chin, just long enough to pull it behind her ears. And even though I'd never have the guts to cut my hair off like that, I still totally respect her risk taking nature. She is not scared of anyone or anything. Her almond shaped eyes are hazel, and hollow. Trying to depict her mood is quite impossible, even for James. She has these two scars on her face that complete her look, as if it was predestined to be that way. She never told me where those scars came from, except about the fact that she had them as a kid, but I never dared to ask her. If there's one thing she loves doing openly, it's story-telling. She has an incredible way of recapping what goes on in her life, you almost feel like there's not one person who wouldn't be able to relate. You can paint the pictures running in your head, as the words flow right out of her mouth, sentence by sentence. But it seems the more she tells them, the more mysterious she seems to be. Like the fact that I rarely ever come over her house, and when I do, no one is ever home. It always reeks from alcohol and ciggerates though, and again, I don't dare ask. We never stay there for too long anyway. 
"Why don't we pick up Ethan with Father's bike?" Gray asks as she picks a ciggerate from her pocket. "I don't think it's a great idea..  Don't wanna scare the kids away, ya know." Her fathers bike does not have one bare spot that isn't covered with skulls. They're plastered everywhere. It's also broken. Everytime she would turn on the engine, heavy metal music would start blaring, and there's no way to turn it off. Besides, I would never want Ethan to be around that thing, it's enough that he cries because of my parents quarreling. I wouldn't want him to cry from nightmares too.
"Yeah, whatever. Let's just walk then. We have plenty of time." She started telling me yet another story of just how perfect her and James are. It always makes me wonder if I'll ever find someone so perfect for me. But I already concluded before, I will never get married. Might as well become a doctor when I grow up and make my office my home. At least I'll be saving lives rather than creating yet another broken home. It would be a more meaningful life.
      When we finally got there, I noticed how everyone in the class were playing around, eating snacks, while Ethan sat quietly in the back corner, concentrating on what was going on outside the backyard of the school through the window. What's up with him lately? I was starting to wonder if five year old can really be diagnosed with depressed. I asked the teacher if he can be excused for a little, and when she nodded her head,  Ethan came running towards us, in almost a split of a second. "Wayven! Gway!" He gave us such a tight hug around our legs, it's as if he hasn't seen us in ages. "Where is Mike?" He says, while pouting his tiny lips. Ethan loves Mike. Mike has never failed to have Ethan rolling around laughing, or making him comfortable enough to speak about his day or the random picture books he read with Mike. What can I say, Mike is just made to be a pretend older brother. I love him for that too, because sometimes I feel the same way. Mike was always there for me when I had emotional breakdowns, joking his way through so that maybe I could smile for just one bit. We always had sleep overs, watching movies that Ethan would pick out, staying up late and talking about nothing important at all. He always helped me stop thinking too deeply into things. And I appreciated his simple nature. "Mike's in school right now, but you might see him later on," that is, if he's not too busy smooching that new punk boyfriend of his. I gave Ethan his lunch, gave him one last hug and kiss, and watched him walk away very slowly back to his seat. He seemed to have no interest on the food, and was lost into space again, looking out that same window


.</div>
19th-Oct-2009 08:17 am - Sylphid Song
anvil
o Air am I of fire wynde.

  As now bedawn another day,
  so long aforrow pass to fay.

Beneath the mists of morrowtide,
all russet-mantled, silver-eyed
  and rosy-finger'd, incense-breth'd,
  lo, come my lover to his death.

He draw aside the dewy shrouds
and loll aby the rising clouds,
  receive my hands, who love to sing
  and coo above the gift he bring.
They softly gliss his secret places,
lightly kissing lips to faces;
  tongues entwine and lick and linger,
  holding hands and palms and fingers ..

Overwhelm'd by his insistence,
I relinquish all resistance,
  yielding at his hands behest
  to clasp about my brazen breast
and fan my fires in swirling ripples
as he nibble at my nipples.
  Gasping little wimper cries,
  I feel his touch between my thighs,
and when the shadow take the twelve,
ah then he give me all himself
  and lay me open open wide
  and gently press so deep inside.

I grasp him in in loving squeezes,
plunging me in pleasure pleases.
  Harden'd muscles, arms and shoulders
  stoking strokes of smoking smolders,
lightning love in flames of lust
and squeezing tighter ev'ry thrust
  till living in my lover's eye
  I kill him now!
                     .. and now he die.

As mists encloud the eventide,
my lover look so sorrow-eyed;
  so I insume his cooling corse
  and smile, feeling no remorse.

For so the forrow pass to fay,
and now bedawn another day.

  o I am of the kindle kind.


love,
Elsie

in my tree

WTF
Tag! You’re it!

It’s Action/Adventure month at Crossed Genres Magazine. Trigger our fight or flight responses, make our hearts race, raise our blood pressure, and take us on the ride of our lives!

Take care to read our submission guidelines, first.

Crossed Genres is also accepting submissions of completed novel-length fiction and novellas to be serialized on our website exclusively for subscribers, as well as "pitches" for a webcomic to run for a year in our ‘Subscribers-Only Area’. Upon completion, Crossed Genres will publish each novel/la and comic in its entirety.

Meanwhile, in our SciFi and Fantasy HORROR issue...

- Get caught in an infinite loop of your own design.
- Embrace your darker nature.
- Save the world and have your revenge, too.
- Create your heart out.
- Wonder, ‘If you have only nice things to say, then who are you and what have you done with yourself?’
8th-Oct-2009 03:16 pm - Intro
Name (A first name, or pen name will do): Evelyn
Age: 50
Writing Experience: Journal writer my whole life; non-fiction published twice in a professional mag; fiction published once
Preferred Genres: fiction
Education: A.A. Nursing
Country: USA
What do you hope to get from this community? critique others, get feedback, writing drills/practice

8th-Oct-2009 01:40 pm - Nano support / prompt community
nano garfield


Just wanted to remind folks that [info]charloft is offering NaNoWriMo support again this year. We will be having word count check-in posts, a live Nano chatroom, word wars, inspirational posts and more all through the month of November!

Charloft also operates year 'round, providing a daily character related writing prompt. We're just about to celebrate our first anniversary! Hope you'll come check us out.
5th-Oct-2009 02:54 am - Reintroduction
anvil

Name:  My name is Elsie; my brane is bellsy.

Age:  I am Ten. Ten ten ten. Again and again, forever. Amen.

Writing Experience:  I make scribbles, lots and lots of scribbles. A scribble is like a pome or a lyric. I call them scribbles because all the drafts have scribbles all over them.

Preferred Genres:  Scribbles.

Education:  I am an autodidact. I have a personal library of many thousands of volumes.

Country:  I reside physically in the USA.

What do you hope to get from this community?  I'm not sure. Perhaps someone could make a scribble better somehow. Perhaps I could help another. I like to help! We'll see ..

Where did you hear of us?  I was a member way back when this community was first formed.

1st-Oct-2009 04:39 pm - A Poem
ivan
no fingers
don't need fingers no
fingers don't
need fingers no fingers
don't need
fingers no fingers don't
need fingers
no fingers don't need
fingers no
fingers don't need fingers
no fingers
don't need fingers no no
no no no
no no
no
n
o
.
ivan
It is often recommended on various websites and writer's book that the writer should set goals. Specifically, they should strive to write a certain number of words per day.

How does editing fit into this? Say I've finished a draft of a piece and I need to re read and edit, etc. How do I quantify this? What do you guys do? How do you set a goal for editing and rewriting?
13th-Sep-2009 10:30 am - Sunday Picture Prompt
Eureka!
It's been awhile since one's been posted, but the (NSFW!) LJ picture feed (NSFW!) I love so very much is back up and running! Don't like this week's picture? Check out past prompts, or brave the feed yourself (as said, NSFW, and you will probably see some disturbing things now and then) and get inspired!

This week's picture... (which is totally, completely work safe!) )
19th-Aug-2009 04:35 am - tuesday somewhere
hullo
Write about a character in a race!

For bonus points, use one of these vehicles.
7th-Aug-2009 05:10 pm - Introduction

Name:The Empty Jar

Age: 17

Writing Experience: nothing professional

Preferred Genres: Whatever pops into my head really :)

Education: Going to uni this year

Country: Scotland

What do you hope to get from this community? Somewhere to post what usually stays in my mind or on a scrap piece of paper and to get feed back.

Where did you hear of us? just searching my interests 
little thing i worte about my username )

4th-Aug-2009 01:54 am - tuesday's return
hullo
Your prompts are rocking chair and lake.

If that prompt doesn't kindle your brainspark, then mosey on through the prompt tags. Either way, comment here with your fantabulous responses or make a new post for fantabulous critiques!
WTF
Crossed Genres Issue Nine: SciFi & Fantasy Alternate History
6 surprising SciFi & Fantasy Alternate Histories, plus a sharp and engaging article by author Walter Hunt, a charming Interview with author Dave Freer, and imaginative art by Briana Wu (with Frank Wu).

Crossed Genres is now accepting short story and black-and-white inside art submissions for the upcoming SciFi and Fantasy HORROR issue. Just a reminder: Crossed Genres is now a paying market.

Crossed Genres is also currently accepting submissions for completed novel-length fiction or novellas to be serialized on our website exclusively for our subscribers, as well as "pitches" for a webcomic to run for a year on our website, in our ‘Subscribers-Only Area’. Upon completion, each will be published by Crossed Genres in its entirety.
25th-Jul-2009 06:28 pm - Zine Mail
hayloft
I wrote a zine and really, I just like to give it to people. It contains a drawing, some poems from the clouds series I did, and some material from Secret Vespers, my webcomic.

Maybe you have a zine, chapbook, some drawings or photos, or anything else that fits in an envelope. We can swap! Or maybe you just want to get a zine in the mail. Just say the word, in a comment of using the LJ mail, and you will!

Maybe some of you would like to swap with each other! I think that would be fun. Feel free to leave a comment and talk about what you might have as well that you can send out.

Let's bring our Internet exchanges into the mail system!
15th-Jul-2009 03:12 pm - Need "read-testers"
ivan
This story has gone through a few drafts and I think it's getting to the point where I can't do much else with it. It is what it is; it may be time to move on. I'm not really happy with it but could use some feedback. Thanks for reading! I really appreciate it.

1,500 words

Crowds of people will visit your home and ransack the place. They will trample your yard and smash your plates and televisions and break your bones. Your relatives and loved ones will be confined to bed for weeks, suffering internal bleeding.
Read more... )
12th-Jul-2009 01:04 pm - Writing Exercises
eye
Yesterday I submitted my first ever fiction piece for publication. I doubt it will get accepted (it is my first submitted piece, after all), but I figured I should try.

Writing non-fiction is easy for me, but fiction is harder. Much harder. However, as any good writer knows, there are three rules to writing: write, keep writing and write more.

I generally have interesting ideas, but my characterization skills are a bit weak and I'm not terribly good at establishing the setting and atmosphere. To rectify that, I have am working through some writing exercises and thought I would share one with you.

The exercise is to pick up a book at random (preferably one you do not know), pull one sentence out of it and, without referring to the context, write keep writing from that sentence, without stopping, three times, each time taking off in a different direction. The sentence I read at random was:

"A man called Bruno seems to be their most colourful victim. Perhaps he chattered with angels too, so to speak."

So let's see how I handle this.

Playing With Bruno )
1st-Jul-2009 07:28 pm - Dear would-be writers
bear me away
As it has been so quiet lately, I thought I'd recommend a book I read recently.

This book is probably the best book I've ever read on writing, and certainly the most laugh-out-loud funny.

I honestly learned more from this than from two years up lit creek without a paddle on a creative writing Masters course, and it was a damn sight cheaper. And more entertaining.

Although, to be fair, it does not have quite the smugbrag factor of a postgraduate qualification.

"Oh, this reminds me of when I was working on my Masters..."

vs

"Oh, this reminds me of when I read a book..."

etc
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