A break from the previous story for a note:
Today I've taken my first freelancing gig, writing a couple paragraphs of copy for some random guy I found on craigslist for $100.
Fuckin' A
More tomorrow.
Wednesday, September 16, 2009
Sunday, September 13, 2009
A new, more jesus inspired story
The following is an idea I got while reading The archives of Slactivist's awesome critique on the Left Behind series: http://exharpazo.blogspot.com/2007/01/index-to-slactivists-left-behind.html
Something shimmered for a moment and the tailored clothing just a second ago worn by Reverand Frank Basin fell to the floor.
The room Reverand Basin's clothes found themselves was a dimly lit backroom of a posh lounge. It was an off night and there were only three other people in the room.
The first man was dressed in a collarless black polo shirt and sat next to the pile of clothes. He looked confused. He had been talking to his old friend, Frank, a second ago. Now Frank's clothes lay on the bench and the first man didn't know how to process this strange new fact.
"Frank?"
"He's gone, Erik." The second man moved through Erik's personal space and sniffed the pile of clothes. "Shit. This isn't a magic thing."
Erik pushed his friend back and started rifling through Frank's leftover clothes, finding a few gold fillings, the pacemaker for Frank's heart, and what looked to be a kidney stone.
"What happened?"
Neither Erik Robertson nor his friend and business associate Walter Cauldwell the third knew it at the time but all over the world millions, if not billions, of people had just vanished leaving only their clothing. Panic hadn't yet had time to set in, but if Erik and Walter seem less than shocked, it's only because they spend their time poking around the secret underbelly of the world.
And thats all for now. I'm tired and need sleep. This story is fun enough to flesh out some more.
Something shimmered for a moment and the tailored clothing just a second ago worn by Reverand Frank Basin fell to the floor.
The room Reverand Basin's clothes found themselves was a dimly lit backroom of a posh lounge. It was an off night and there were only three other people in the room.
The first man was dressed in a collarless black polo shirt and sat next to the pile of clothes. He looked confused. He had been talking to his old friend, Frank, a second ago. Now Frank's clothes lay on the bench and the first man didn't know how to process this strange new fact.
"Frank?"
"He's gone, Erik." The second man moved through Erik's personal space and sniffed the pile of clothes. "Shit. This isn't a magic thing."
Erik pushed his friend back and started rifling through Frank's leftover clothes, finding a few gold fillings, the pacemaker for Frank's heart, and what looked to be a kidney stone.
"What happened?"
Neither Erik Robertson nor his friend and business associate Walter Cauldwell the third knew it at the time but all over the world millions, if not billions, of people had just vanished leaving only their clothing. Panic hadn't yet had time to set in, but if Erik and Walter seem less than shocked, it's only because they spend their time poking around the secret underbelly of the world.
And thats all for now. I'm tired and need sleep. This story is fun enough to flesh out some more.
Saturday, September 12, 2009
Wednesday, September 9, 2009
Welcome and a first test.
In this blog I will be experimenting with my writing.
It will not all be good. That isn't the point.
I'm here to post the results of one new writing exercise a day.
Today's experiment is to write a complete story in 140 characters or less, so it could be posted on twitter:
Bleeding seemed the only choice. Then she saw an iron they left hot. A bloody hand reached and set hot iron to cold skin. Her world ended.
138 characters. Hmm. Not bad.
It will not all be good. That isn't the point.
I'm here to post the results of one new writing exercise a day.
Today's experiment is to write a complete story in 140 characters or less, so it could be posted on twitter:
Bleeding seemed the only choice. Then she saw an iron they left hot. A bloody hand reached and set hot iron to cold skin. Her world ended.
138 characters. Hmm. Not bad.
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