I am writing! I have ALL the words. This will be the best thing EVER.
This is fine, I can edit this later.
What am I missing? ...the words are missing! WRITER'S BLOCK
Screw it, I'll move on to something else.
*moves onto new project on the other side of the street*
I am writing! I have ALL the words. This will be the best thing EVER.
When I realized this I cried, and drank, and cried, and ate. I decided I should just give up, because - nothing matters anymore! Then I pulled myself up and did what I always do ... I headed to the twitterverse for handy-dandy blog posts by writers, agents and editors. I got tons and tons of fantastic ideas (honestly, the writing community might just be the.best.ever) and I decided to combine them into *pause* the Back to School Writing Challenge!
Each Wednesday for the next 5 weeks I will post a writing challenge. Each challenge will be a little goofy and easily done in one night. The goal is to break out of habits and write things just for the sake of writing. I hope it helps me, and I invite you - yes YOU - to join. Just post your response in the comments section.
There are no prizes other than the joy you will get from making words. And the comfort you will give this writer by showing I don't have to go through this alone.
And without further delay *drumroll* the first writing challenge ...
Think of the word that best describes the last thing that made you laugh.
Do a Google image search on that word.
Write a story in 300 words, or less, inspired by the image.
(bonus points if you link the image)
Now - go, go, go!
I saw this on Pinterest - http://pinterest.com/pin/171770173260439922/ - and it made me think of how easily we act selfishly when there is no one looking. Thus: my story. It’s not my best but it made me write and that’s the point!
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A car is, most importantly, an impenetrable cocoon, separating the inside from the outside. It is anonymity. It is a mask.
“Man is least himself when he talks in his own person. Give him a mask, and he will tell you the truth.”
-Wilde
She adjusted the rear-view mirror, moving it towards her so that she could see her eyes. She leaned over and, in hurried strokes, applied mascara while she waited for the light to turn. She had exactly four lights between her apartment and work: brush hair and put in ponytail; apply mascara and lipstick; finish coffee and light cigarette; check email and schedule on cell.
A honking horn her made her look up at the light, now glowing green.
“What the fuck is wrong with you! It’s been green for, like, two seconds. Ass-hole!”
She threw an open hand in the air, staring in the rear-view mirror at the driver in the reflection.
She hurriedly applied red stain to her lips, steering with her elbow and shifting into second gear. She needed an automatic. Just as she tossed the make-up back in her purse, a Camry pulled out from a side street and took its time accelerating.
“Oh come on! You’ve got to be kidding me! What the fuck is wrong with you! Fucking Douche bag!”
She swerved into the left lane and revved the engine of her small car, as she aggressively passed the Toyota. The driver is an old lady. Typical. She blows through the last light, stale yellow and mocking.
Pulling into the parking lot a few minutes after the hour, she leaned again to the rear-view mirror and picked her nose. Right before getting out of the car she pinned her nametag onto her sweater:
Miss McCartle
Green Front Elementary Librarian