|  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. Useful links:
| 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 )- Mood:curious

| |
|
| 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 | |
|
| Today I bring you another picture found randomly scrolling the LJ picture feed - if you ever need inspiration and none of the picture here are floating your boat, you may want to give it a try if you are over 18 years old, because the feed is most definitely Not Safe For Work or Minors and sometimes for life in general. There's a lot of naked there. And sometimes other disturbing things. This is the feed I use, but remember the warnings. Seriously. Today's pic is neither naked nor in any way squicky, but hopefully it is intriguing and will inspire great works. Take an hour, write whatever the picture inspires, and post it to the community! We're not harsh on the critique of prompt-pieces (or at least we shouldn't be!) since they are free-writing exercises to get the creativity flowing. ( Click here to see the picture! ) | |
|
| Hey everyone, I'm a bookwriter/lyricist, and I'd love your help on my latest musical. I'm just looking for people's experiences that I can use to inform the piece. Here's the post in my writing journal about the project and how to contact me. Feel free to pass it along to anyone you think might be interested, too! Thanks! - Mood:awake
 - Music:Shiina Ringo--"Odaijini"
| |
|
| "Summertime" is one of my favorite songs. Originally heard in the 1935 Opera Porgy and Bess, it is now one of the most well-known Jazz pieces. Your Friday Prose mission, should you choose to accept it, is to take a line from the song and use it to open a short story, poem or prose piece. ( Lyrics are under the cut )As always, Friday Prose Prompts never expire. If this prompt doesn't inspire you, feel free to revisit earlier suggestions. | |
|
| I did poetry month in April. A poem a day for a month. Unedited... so anything I post will be Eeesh rough- but I'd love to get some critique on my favorite pieces: ( Here are four! )I'm interested in detailed concrit if anyone has the time! I also have two or three much longer poems that I'll post eventually. (I'd love to see this com active again!) | |
|
| Hi, write_away! Remember when there used to be multiple posts to this community every day? It wasn't even that long ago. We could have that back! There are, like, thousands of you. I know some of you have been writing and holding out. Put something here. Since there hasn't been a whole lot of posting recently, I think it's reasonable to offer a critiquing amnesty. I mean, it's better if you go critique a few old things; the practice is good, but whatever. Just post something. Don't have anything ready? How about this, try writing a short piece that uses one of these: - footsie academics
- porn-hoarding lurker
- bottomless question
- vegan lesbian raver
- two-hoodie hipster
Want to read a review I wrote for a friend's literary blog? It's here: http://grasshopperreads.wordpress.com/2009/06/23/chimera-lucida/And, if nothing else, how about just post and talk a bit about what you have been writing lately? Here is my lowdown: - a few times a week at http://secretvespers.com/
- a set of thirty poems that deal with toast
- a set of fifteen poems with cloud formation titles
- editing a novel
- a short story about skeletons, and other short stories
Do any of you live in Montreal? This storm we are having is phantasmorgial. I love it. Come get soaked with me. | |
|
| There are a series of books that are nothing but a series of found lists - it's interesting to try to reconstruct the story around the person who was shopping for some weird assortment of bits, or who writes perplexing notes next to certain items. There are lots of stories to be made up about them...
Which would be a fine project, but not quite what I had in mind. Your assignment, should you choose to accept it, is to write a series of to-do lists that tell a clear story. No dialogue, no narrative, no description - just simple bullet points that convey a clear storyline. | |
|
| It’s time to paint the town in Issue Seven of Crossed Genres Magazine! Read five superb Urban SciFi & Fantasy stories, and enjoy striking cover art by Paul Davey and an insightful interview with SFF literary agent Michael Kabongo. Crossed Genres is now accepting writing and inside art submissions for the upcoming Alternate History issue. Just a reminder: Crossed Genres is now a paying market. NEW! Crossed Genres is having a Flash Fiction Contest! Hurry and submit your 100-500 SciFi/Fantasy story! Crossed Genres is also still accepting submissions for completed novella or novel-length fiction to be serialized on our website exclusively for our subscribers. We are also accepting "pitches" for a webcomic to run for a year on our website, also exclusively for our Subscribers. Upon completion, each will be published by Crossed Genres in its entirety. On July 1st, Crossed Genres will release its SciFi/Fantasy Anthropomorphism issue, with endearing cover art by Kasey Gifford and interviews with author Jennifer Brozek and scientist and author Athena Andreadis. | |
|
| Name: Ikasatu Kirasawa Age: 26 Writing Experience: I try to write a lot, and have been writing in my spare time since I could spell. Preferred Genres: Poetry, science fiction, humor, life experience. Education: Some College at several schools. Country: United States of America What do you hope to get from this community? Critique, inspiration, help, and the chance to offer these in return. Where did you hear of us? A friend. | |
|
| I'm in love with these, and enjoy the challenge of incorporating subtext and characters in only six words. I would be interested to see some from you guys. The six word story, according to SixWordStories.net: "In the 1920s, Ernest Hemingway’s colleagues bet him that he couldn’t write a complete story in just six words.
"For sale: baby shoes, never used." —Ernest Hemingway
They paid up. Hemingway is said to have considered it his best work."The rules, in six words: Six words, any punctuation, contractions allowed. My best so far is: "Arctic Survivor Found! Full, but lonely." I'll try to come up with an even better entry. | |
|
| Hey guys after ten months of being lulzed around by various doctors, I managed to get my second Gardasil shot!
To celebrate this, let's write about waiting - tables or dumb or Tom or when the waiting is over and the dread of having to be resuscitated is gone.
Bonus points if you also involve toast!
Remember, folks, you can reply to this post with your marmalade'd masterpieces or post a new post for your wholegrain words. And if this pick-of-the-day peanut-butter prompt is too burnt for your tastes, you can check out our yeastified alliteration-has-failed-me prompt menu for inspiration because everything here lacks a use-by date! And not in the dodgy way! | |
|
| I hope it's okay that I post some of my writing right off the bat. This is a prologue for a novella I am writing, but am yet to finish. Sometimes I like it, sometimes I hate it, and it's a bit all over the place. ( FALL FROM INNOCENCE ) | |
|
| Name: Martha. Age: Seventeen. Writing Experience: A short lifetime of filling notebooks with stories. And a writer’s workshop as a high school elective, but butotherwise none. Preferred Genres: Fiction - most commonly short stories and autobiographical fiction, and I sometimes dabble in poetry, but that's proving to be rare these days. Education: High school. Country: Australia. What do you hope to get from this community? Of course I would like some feedback on my own writings, as I'm always interested in self-improvement and refining my work, but I would also like to be involved in a writing community, and the posting members here all seem very helpful and courteous :) Where did you hear of us? An LJ interests search. | |
|
| With 7 A.M. sitcoms and the hands stuck safe in the softest space- Silence can no longer preserve my favorite morning.
I want to resurrect the alarm clock I knocked from your shelf, but the timing was never right for us anyway. | |
|
| Tydbol
Every night Pa makes a pizza It's on his weekly menu Every night he's in hysteria Because the cat keeps reining on his fiesta
What does the cat want with the pie? Pepperoni is the reason This puts Pa in a moody season Why, don't ask why
So one night Pa's light bulb switches on He ever so has the brightest idea A bathroom product for the furry peon At worst, it's an evil solution
Once again, the pizza is the order of the night The trap is set, but not everything is alright The cat had no idea Unfortunately for it had a busted light
Pa grinning, awaiting the pivotal moment Our anti-heroic feline gets its piece Will there be peace For him, that is his intent
As the brave furball falls Pa thought he won Later, he hears what sounds like scraping claws Defeat approaches, his victory gets lost
Behold the monsteriousity, pun included Rest assured it's not hyberbol Maybe you should sleep with both eyes open Meet our new blue pet, Tydbol! - Mood:blah

| |
|
| Whoops. This week's delayed prompts are from New South Welsh band, The Whitlams.
See him offering himself to the world, staring down from the fifty-sixth floor
I will not go quietly, I will not behave myself
Shooting postcards of him through the flies
There are always reasons (how long have you got?)
Now horror's more than skin and bone | |
|
|
Name: J.
Age: 28
Writing Experience: short stories, poetry, lyrics, screenplays
Preferred Genres: poetry
Education: high school and in college
Country: US
What do you hope to get from this community? feedback
Where did you hear of us? found by chance
A poem. I'll post this for feedback. I expect nothing more than that. Here it is.
I Got No
A boy meets a girl
There's no rhyme in the world
That could overcome the cliche
How touche
He says he loves her
She says she's not sure
His pounding heartbeats is giving her a headache
Her uncertainty is giving him a heartache
She says she's actually a boy
Boy says don't be coy
She confesses she's a vampire
The boy asks, are you looking for a new hire
Boy, he doesn't get it
This admitted vampire spills the blood
She's a guy, but he himself looks like gal
Can't they just be pals
I got no clue
Letting the thought weigh in
Gives me the flu
And I got no medicine - Mood:blank

| |
|
| It's just that it's been a couple of years since I posted or critiqued anything here. So, I feel the need to reintroduce myself. I'm 18, finishing up my freshman year of college. I hail from Washington State, recently made infamous by the Twilight series. Let me just say that while, yes, we do get a ridiculous amount of rain, and yes, there is basically a wet season and a less wet season, it is not cloudy enough year-round to support a healthy vampire population. I am extremely reassured by this knowledge because I doubt that any vampire I'd run into would gaze into my eyes and declare his undying love. Or would it be undead love?
Anyway, this is the much revised first chapter of a story I'm writing. I actually posted the original in this community a long time ago. I consider this version substantially improved. It's called "Llamagirl." ( Llamagirl ) | |
|
| Your prompts this week come from New South Welsh band The Cops.
This kind of loving leaves me mystified, this kind of loving leaves me satisfied
The city's talking traffic and I'm wiping cobwebs from my head
You better learn to take sides
We live in a digital world, we move to the beat of each other
I like the heat, but this is ridiculous | |
|
| I 'm looking for your views as to whether you find this interesting or not. I know it has to be edited and proof read so ignore any typo's or grammer corrections. I'll get around to them later. But for now, first impressions.
The cat who knew stuff. What do we know about cats ? Not the National Geographic type shit, I mean, what do we really know about them ? I'll tell you my friend, we know nothing, nothing ! about cats. Now the ancient Egyptians, they also knew nothing, but they knew there was more to them than they knew. Enough so, to treat them with reverence. As if to say, I'm not taking any chances, better treat him as a god.Just in case... Spring time in Ireland is a time of mass migration. The great herd of Irish manhood peels itself from its winter habitat of couches, sofas and remote controls to head out into nature to trim hedges and cut lawns. This is where the story of how I ended up in an insane asylum begins. Going out to cut the grass. So there I am, standing in front of the double doors of "The Man Shed". Man Sheds are very carefully controlled environments. They must be tidy enough to want to make you feel cosy, but must retain an atmosphere of spiders and mice, enough so, to deter women from wanting to explore The Man Shed. So mine has a work bench to make model aircraft on, an old armchair (slightly musty, enough to put it beyond salvage, thus interest ) , a filing cabinet that has a stash of Black Moroccan dope, some porn mags and a 6, make that 4 pack of Heineken. There's also another chair for when William, my next door neighbour, hops the fence and comes to "borrow" something. There's also a lawnmower, hedge trimmers and various other stuff I have no interest in, but keep handy to justify going to the shed for. So, as I was saying, there I am in front of the doors. I open them up and the first thing I see is a large black cat with one eye curled up on the old armchair. I like cats. They don't need walking and don't hump your leg while you in a Q at the post office. I say Pishwishwish to see if he'll come and be friends. He ignored me. I pulled out the lawn mower and as I do so a bag slides off the shelf. It's a hammock I bought two years ago and never got around to putting up. As I reach down to pick it up I hear a tapping on the kitchen window. It is "SHE", she's pointing at the hammock and gesturing for me to erect it. I look at the photo on the cover of the bag and immagine the guy on the hammock is me. A fine idea, I decide. I get busy cutting the grass, rake up the hay or whatever cut grass is called, and clean the mower before putting it back. I pick a nice spot in the garden that catches most of the sunshine, and more importantly, is out of the wind. I erect the hammock. It's a simple frame that you hook the big net part on to at both ends.There is another tap on the kitchen window. SHE gives a thumbs up and a wave goodbye. She said something this morning about the hairdresser so I assume she's going there. I carefully sit on the edge of the hammock. It doesn't twang and fall down. I turn lengthways and put one leg up. Nothing. Two legs and I recline, expecting to flip over and end up face down on the grass. Nothing . Actually, it's really comfortable. I decide to make the four pack a three pack and fetch a Heineken from the filing cabinet. I'm back on the hammock swinging slightly. I have chosen my spot well. I can feel the warmth of the sun on my face. After fifteen minutes, I'm getting drowsy. The Heinie has relaxed me , the sun is now quite warm, the smell of cut grass is very pleasant. Soon my head begins to nod. A bee drones by. I hear a rasping voice say "Ibitza !"in what could be a spanish accent . I open an eye a bit and look around. I must have immagined it because there's no one there. I begin to nod off again. "Ibitza I said ". Shit, someone wants to chat. I open my eyes and look around for where the voice is coming from. There is nobody there. Not in my garden, not in Williams. I look behind me , thinking it's coming from the kitchen. There's no one in the house. The cat has moved from the armchair to the roof of the shed now. Maybe his claws made a scratching sound as he climb.. "Ibitza a lot" I could swear the voice came from the cat ! I think to myself "You're tired and shouldn't drink beer in the sun, it goes straight to your head" "Shiz got bruises !" I sit up now. I look carefully around the garden trying to figure out where William could hide a speakerfor his practicle joke. As I'm doing so, the cat continues to stare at me. Then it stands up , arches it's back and it's legs quiver. "If yiz not intrested" Thinking I'll go along with the joke I say I am interested and tell me more. It was the worst thing I could ever have done.
| |
|
| |