author - "Judy Colella"
Love has many definitions. How we handle its prospect is an even more fascinating study. This little discussion gives one way of looking at falling in love.
Bill Moffat wasn't a nice person. Still, nice things can happen even to the worst of us. Problem is, the worst of us tend to take what's nice and turn it bad. Is there no justice? Well? Is there?
Three Drabbles of exactly one hundred words each, written under the topic "The First Time." The title of the book is simply a French version of that. Don't ask me why I didn't just write it in English. I...don't know.
Like so many people, Varian had questions about life after death. He also had a life that was not exactly thrilling. But one day, the Chaos Theory stumbled in and changed everything...
Byron's strict mother refused to let him go out on Halloween. Every year they argued, and every year, she won. Until one year, when Byron decided he'd find a way to have fun.
Four people confined to a cabin by something that went horribly wrong with the world. With the future quesionable at best, survival, in the end, was a decision.
Who was this guy? He kept appearing in random places, affecting unrelated lives, his behavior wavering between that of a dream, and that of the dreamer. Who was he? Now that was a question to which he'd love an answer more than anyone...
No one gets it perfect, much less the first time. Well, except Mozart. But as writers, we should accept the whole idea of editing our work and see it as being as integral a part of our writing as the story itself. Here, then, is my hard-earned wisdom (ahem) on getting rid of what's unnecessary, and an example of how I cut the fat. So to speak. Or write. Yes, I need to stop adding non-sentences now.
Well! The holidays are upon us, but somehow we writers keep plugging away. With the help of the other members here, we can get great, useful feedback, but sometimes it seems we keep running headlong into a brick wall. Or a brick Christmas tree, if you will. Self-editing - the bane of writers everywhere. Ho-ho-ho...bleh.
Love has many definitions. How we handle its prospect is an even more fascinating study. This little discussion gives one way of looking at falling in love.
Bill Moffat wasn't a nice person. Still, nice things can happen even to the worst of us. Problem is, the worst of us tend to take what's nice and turn it bad. Is there no justice? Well? Is there?
Three Drabbles of exactly one hundred words each, written under the topic "The First Time." The title of the book is simply a French version of that. Don't ask me why I didn't just write it in English. I...don't know.
Like so many people, Varian had questions about life after death. He also had a life that was not exactly thrilling. But one day, the Chaos Theory stumbled in and changed everything...
Byron's strict mother refused to let him go out on Halloween. Every year they argued, and every year, she won. Until one year, when Byron decided he'd find a way to have fun.
Four people confined to a cabin by something that went horribly wrong with the world. With the future quesionable at best, survival, in the end, was a decision.
Who was this guy? He kept appearing in random places, affecting unrelated lives, his behavior wavering between that of a dream, and that of the dreamer. Who was he? Now that was a question to which he'd love an answer more than anyone...
No one gets it perfect, much less the first time. Well, except Mozart. But as writers, we should accept the whole idea of editing our work and see it as being as integral a part of our writing as the story itself. Here, then, is my hard-earned wisdom (ahem) on getting rid of what's unnecessary, and an example of how I cut the fat. So to speak. Or write. Yes, I need to stop adding non-sentences now.
Well! The holidays are upon us, but somehow we writers keep plugging away. With the help of the other members here, we can get great, useful feedback, but sometimes it seems we keep running headlong into a brick wall. Or a brick Christmas tree, if you will. Self-editing - the bane of writers everywhere. Ho-ho-ho...bleh.