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9/20/11 Let's Have Some Fun: A Writer's Sprint
AKA Dedlly
Posted: Monday, September 19, 2011 8:14 PM
Joined: 8/4/2011
Posts: 13


I have an idea.  It's for writers young, old, and of all levels of experience.  Tomorrow night, September 20th at 8pm EST, let's have a writer's sprint.

A what? I hear you cry.

Jane Espenson of Buffy and BSG fame often does this on Twitter.  Basically it is an hour of uninterrupted writing after which you return to the wired world to tell everyone about the results.  It's an exercise in getting out of one's own way and doing the work.

Here are the wrinkles I'd like to introduce.  First, I'll supply a subject or word for everyone to riff from, and when we finish we post whatever we wrote right here in this discussion.  You can take a minute or so to clean it up, but I suggest not taking too long or the thinking will begin, compromising the exercise.

We can discuss our work, our thoughts on the sprint, and toast virtual cocktails to each other.

It could be magic.  It could be nothing.  But it will definitely be writing.

Any takers?

I'll see you here tomorrow night at 8pm EST.

Don Kelly
AKA Dedlly

Michelle Mills
Posted: Monday, September 19, 2011 9:02 PM
Joined: 7/21/2011
Posts: 41


What a fun suggestion -- count me in!

I might just have a 'real' cocktail though
Danielle Bowers
Posted: Monday, September 19, 2011 9:29 PM
Joined: 3/16/2011
Posts: 280


I'm game!
AKA Dedlly
Posted: Tuesday, September 20, 2011 2:00 AM
Joined: 8/4/2011
Posts: 13


Right on. This is gonna be fun.
AKA Dedlly
Posted: Tuesday, September 20, 2011 11:48 PM
Joined: 8/4/2011
Posts: 13


Okay Michelle, Danielle, and any surprise guests, here is the line:

"Then came the sound of beating wings."

Beginning, middle, end (he shrugs). Do with it what you will.

Looking forward to your posts.

Don
Danielle Bowers
Posted: Wednesday, September 21, 2011 12:00 AM
Joined: 3/16/2011
Posts: 280


I'll add it to the next chapter of my mystery!
AKA Dedlly
Posted: Wednesday, September 21, 2011 1:04 AM
Joined: 8/4/2011
Posts: 13


Solace watched the blaze from the rooftop blocks away. The building below his feet was only four stories high, short for Manhattan, and nondescript except that he remembered it once housed a Tower Records. Simpler times. Less immediate gratifications. These streets once provided safe harbor for the alternate and generally perverse. But it hadn’t been that city for a long time. Now it burned away it dirty remnants like malignancy.
Children. Teenagers. They arrived at the labs in NYU with their flames and zealotry, all young scholars from different schools mobilized by superstition. Solace saw the little band of rioters heading down Broadway, torches held high, their chants echoing off facades like a 21st century remake of a witch hunting mob. They interrupted his dinner. More accurately the message that appeared in the timeline scrolling on his smart lens (available exclusively at LensCrafters and a strain to the salary of an underfunded scientist) drove him away from his curry and into the street.
#solacemustburn
Cowardice drove him to the rooftop. He saw no honor in dying at their hands when all the breakthroughs and research was backupped and dispensed both virtually and physically. And make no mistake, they were on a killing mission. The attention brought on by the leak was completely unwanted. First, the corporations began sniffing, sensing a game changer. Then, the nuts on the right starting stoking fear, calling his work “stem cells on steroids” or some other inanity. They started calling for his head at every megachurch pulpit, the punditsphere, and on the floor of Congress.
People were always performing crimes against nature in this part of town. One way or another.
They stood and watched his lab burn. No fear of repercussion or punishment drove them from the street. Then, Solace watched the great glowing mass of them move toward his perch. His position had been compromised, undoubtedly by some privacy setting he did not know to utilize in one of thousand online services required to exist these days. He grumbled, furious if he was to die because of Facebook.
The horde massed on the street below, Greenwich Villagers, all torches and Prada. He leaned over the edge for a moment, curious to catalogue their superstition. Such a silly impulsive genius, he regretted his training when a bullet seared his ear and tore through his new skin and bone. He crumpled. The nerve endings were only days old, the appendages still fragile, that had to account for the severity of the pain. He tried to move, but shock made jelly of his limbs. Sweat glistened on his bare torso. Blood puddled around him.
Sirens screamed far away.
He didn’t hear the squeak of a hinge or the violent shatter of a door. He had no idea how long he lay there trembling, but they were around him now. They looked down on him, the unlined faces of the young, trying to mask their fear with arrogance. Their disgust was evident. As many as could crowded around to see him, Solace the Abomination, and justify their violence. Indeed he must have made quite a sight lying their, shirtless, his leathery wings, only days old, motioning involuntarily.
He had chosen wings as their first hack because who wouldn’t want to fly, and modeling on bats seemed so much easier than calculating plumage.
But the leak of the others, the videos of the process, the grafting, and the failures, brought this upon him. It seemed so ridiculous to die by the fires of the ignorant and superstitious like so many of his forebears. It was the 21st century. If he could speak he would ask them Don’t you understand? Don’t you want this?
The cameras on their phones stopped flashing. They stopped posing in front of him as if he were an attraction at a freak show. It was about to end.
Then came the sound of beating wings.
His colleagues had arrived.

Michelle Mills
Posted: Wednesday, September 21, 2011 1:05 AM
Joined: 7/21/2011
Posts: 41


Here it goes:

This was awesome by the way; I've been lugging around this idea for a contemporary romance in my head for awhile --this was a great way to unleash it: (It needs fleshing out of course, but I was pleased with the first go)

“And the Oscar for Best Actress goes to...” The camera zoomed in for a close-up of the five nominees, including Ava Jennings, seated with her personal assistant.

The star studded audience, together with millions of television viewers, remained fixated on Jacob Strum, as he prepared to announce the winner from the gold envelope.

“Ava Jennings—for Pegasus!" Then came the sound of beating wings. Ava’s face and costumed form filled the enormous screens lining the stage, riding Pegasus into the skies while evil Medusa is screeching in fury.
There was an explosion of applause in the Kodak Centre.

“Yes! I soooo knew you were going to win this thing. And you got to kiss Michael Kerr …damn you,” Lauren said.

With a wide grin and shining eyes, Ava hugged Lauren tight. “Thank you ...for everything.” The orchestra played an instrumental of her movie’s title soundtrack and the movie’s Director, Charles Lyndon, and her co-star, Michael Kerr, leapt to give her a kiss as she made her way to the stage.

“This is the first Academy Award and second nomination for Ava Jennings,” said the broadcaster. “Ava was previously nominated for best supporting actress for her role in Spindler.”

Ava gathered the skirt of her [ADD DESIGNER NAME & PHYSICAL DESCRIPTION HERE] dress as she climbed the stairs to the podium.
“Congratulations, Ava.” James clasped her brightly manicured hand and kissed her cheek.

“Thank you, James,” Ava smiled.

Ava placed her hand over her heart. “Gosh, I’m speechless. To be categorized with the insanely talented women who are my fellow nominees …is unthinkable. Thank you. Thank you so much. I want to thank the Academy for making this possible …my mom and dad who I know are smiling down at me from above, my assistant, Lauren Brown, you are so much more than that …you are my best friend in this world and I love you so much! I want to thank Charles Lyndon, Micheal Kerr, and the rest of the cast and crew — you are incredible, and I share this moment with every single one of you. I’d like to thank all of my fans, and …and…” Ava paused for several seconds. Tears began to gush. “I want to thank …God. Thank you.” Ava blew a kiss to the crowd.

“You did great, Ava,” Lauren said when her friend was back in her seat, “but, one question ...and don’t take this the wrong way, but you cried when you thanked God. “Ava, you’re a good girl and a law abiding citizen, but religious? Since when?”

“Since accepting an Oscar, the biggest accomplishment of my career, and having no one else to thank other than my crew, my personal assistant, and my cat. In that moment I realized I was missing something, missing someone ...someone to share this with. Everyone I meet is interested in Ava’s fame, Ava’s money, but not the person that I am ...me. I was at a loss, and so I thanked ...God.

Lauren squeezed Ava’s arm affectionately and offered a sympathetic smile. “I realized, Ava continued, “that a pint-sized man is not going to bring me that much fulfillment after all.” She took a gulp of white wine.

“Hmm, Lauren said, mischieveously, “Does he vibrate?”
Ava laughed, spraying white wine onto her dress.

“Oh no,” Lauren began to pat at it with a napkin.

“Stop, it’s alright. This night would not be so memorable without you. If it weren’t for the sex thing—I’d marry you.”

“You’re starting to scare me,” Lauren laughed. “I think I’m going to create a profile for you at soulmates.com ...plenty of fish or whatever.”

The expression in Ava’s emerald green eyes became contemplative while she ran her fingers through her jet, flat-ironed hair. “You could really be onto something there,” she faced Lauren with a smile.

“I know that look, Ava. I know when you’re acting and when you’re not ...you’re scaring me.”

“Think about it, Lauren. I could create a profile and get to know people ...real people. And they wouldn’t have to know who I am. At least not at first. I could live in a trailer for all they know—it’s perfect.

Lauren inhaled a deep, slow breath. “Oh, shit.”



AKA Dedlly
Posted: Wednesday, September 21, 2011 1:08 AM
Joined: 8/4/2011
Posts: 13


That was great. Kept hemming and hawing about it, but in the end, what an hour. Thanks for participating.
@Danielle - I'd love to read what you've done.

Please, let me know what you think of this. I'll try again next week on a different night.

If you come across this and want to participate jump right in. All genres welcome.

Thanks again,

Don Kelly
AKA Dedlly
Michelle Mills
Posted: Wednesday, September 21, 2011 1:13 AM
Joined: 7/21/2011
Posts: 41


Your prose is great, AKA Dedily --intense and suspenseful!

Thanks for inspiring me to get moving on this story! We should do this again sometime.

Cheers!

Michelle


AKA Dedlly
Posted: Wednesday, September 21, 2011 1:14 AM
Joined: 8/4/2011
Posts: 13


@Michelle

That is fantastic. Great work. Love where it is going.

Hope you enjoyed that cocktail.
AKA Dedlly
Posted: Wednesday, September 21, 2011 1:16 AM
Joined: 8/4/2011
Posts: 13


@Michelle

Thank you. I'm glad you enjoyed it.
Michelle Mills
Posted: Wednesday, September 21, 2011 1:45 AM
Joined: 7/21/2011
Posts: 41


My pleasure, and thank you for your kind comments.

Until next time,
Michelle
Tawni Peterson
Posted: Wednesday, September 21, 2011 2:28 AM
Joined: 5/10/2011
Posts: 69


So bummed I missed this. I will stay tuned for next time!
Danielle Bowers
Posted: Wednesday, September 21, 2011 3:11 AM
Joined: 3/16/2011
Posts: 280


I got derailed by a deadline, I'm still writing
 

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