So here's an idea Rook and I came up sometime last year while crafting japes at the expense of overdramatic abstractions in Tahereh Mafi's "Shatter Me." Why not make questionable or out-of-context descriptions into drinks?
A thin lump protruded from beneath a glued sheet over the book’s inside cover. Feeling his nails around the edges, Cyprus peeled the paper away from the leather.
The Porfirio family record was massive and unevenly bound together, several different papers and diaries all fit into one tome. It gave the impression a hard shake might send everything flying out onto the floor. The cover was decorated with the Porfirio name and golden scrawl, much newer than most of the pages.
Halloween is on its way, and let me tell you: there is nothing spookier than the AI-generated chapter of Harry Potter.
Many thanks must go to my good chum R.S. Rook, for passing me a "Discover New Blogs" Liebster Award and a set of entertaining questions--plus a bang-up one-sentence summary of my site that was troubling in its accuracy.
I liked plenty of "Young Adult" books before genrefication and I still do now. There are a lot of hidden treasures below the stenciled garbage, and I'm on a journey to discover some. As my first step in this journey, I turned to Tahereh Mafi's popular 2011 "Shatter Me."
It's a new month, which means it's time for a new set of shocking, scandalous writer confessions. Not for the faint of heart, I assure you.
All writers start as readers. And a lot of us started in the same place. Let's take a trip to my childhood, and possibly to yours.
The moment it came off the tree, Nadim sank hungry fingers through the pomegranate’s skin to reach the pips. His nails hit solid rubies.
Phantasmagorium may have a Prompt Cellar, but the there are plenty of good writing holes around the Internet. So here's a cellar of other peoples' prompt cellars.