The hard chisels in his face and shoulders, silvering stubble, and the tic-tac-toe grid of scars up his neck reminded James of an old wolf. He held out a hand, broad and calloused, and winked a blue eye when James took it.
Category: Fiction
Day 19: Witch Hunt
“Let me tell the story of your life,” Eric panted. He didn’t have time to stop and breathe, and the white proximity of the four blades closed his throat. His Adam’s apple convulsed drily--he'd better talk fast.
Day 18: Ugly Luck
Argent’s fingers froze on the cuff hiding his kingfisher tattoo.
Day 17: Woman in Black
The further they delved into the base, the more important-looking the rooms got. The smell of wine got stronger, the cut of the suits got nicer, and the rough-looking kids started thinning out. The handguns started getting more conspicuous, too, and shinier.
Direhounds
Direhounds: a cross between Hellhounds and dire wolves. Writing is fun.
Writer Confessions 2
Writing is the longest, most elaborate improvisation you will ever have to pretend is not an improvisation. Writers, incidentally, get up to a lot of nonsense they don't really teach you in Lit class. For instance:
Exploding Heads
Everyone's heads exploded at Momma's wedding. Grandma's done-up bun rocketed loose with her eyebrows flapping behind, right into Auntie Em's paisley lap. Uncle Denis's round, red face gorged and...
7 Microprompts for Taverns
In honor of Saint Patrick's Day, my proud Irish heritage, and my deep, inordinate love for Dungeons and Dragons, here's the usual set of seven prompt fragments to kick off your next writing exercise. (Camp Nano is just around the corner, remember-don't let it sneak up on you!)
Writer Confessions
The writing process is certainly a process, but one the writer is only halfway in control of. There are certain things people just don't tell you about being a writer, mostly because you'll think you're being fancifully duped. For instance...
Editing: The Slasher Flick
I put on a clown mask. I pick up a knife; I rev the chainsaw. I develop an ominous, repetitive background track out of nowhere. I stake out the house with the lingerie-lounging babysitters, I lurk around the cabin with the campers magnetically repelled away from their safety in numbers, and stare in the windows of...