One of my 2018 writing goals:
“Fail as much as possible.”
I want to fail at more writing projects. I want to get more rejections letters. I want to finish books, and have them completely bomb.
In order to do that… I’ll have to write more. Lots more. I’m talking mountains of paper and 1,000,000+ words that nobody will ever read.
Continue reading How to “Win” Your Writing Goals in 2018
When J.K. Rowling introduces new Characters…
…you can visualize them almost instantly.
- Lightning bolt scar.
- Hand-me down robes.
- A mane of bushy, brown hair.
J.K. Rowling, author of the Harry Potter series, excells at writing unforgettable physical descriptions of her characters. I want to show you the magic behind her technique.
Read this, and you will be able to create your own vivid characters in just a few short strokes of your writing quill…
Continue reading How J.K. Rowling Describes Unforgettable Characters (With Examples)
His fingers drip with ink; his face – with sweat. The candlelight flickers, casting shadows across the spidery, illegible scratch and ink stains.
Inching closer to the page, the Writer inches reads from his own words – “…to become a real writer, to climb the ranks into Authorship, one must write everyday.”
But, like all of life’s solutions, there is a problem. As he chews on his quill, a new question rolls around his mind…
How DO you Write Everyday?
These 9 strategies will help you build a daily writing habit so powerful, your own friends and family will think something is wrong with you:
Continue reading Write Everyday with these 9 Habit-boosting Strategies
In this line of work there were few answers, and many questions.
One question, in particular, stuck out like a knife from a dead man’s chest: “Could you ever kill a friend?”
For years, Blay the Assassin thought about it, turning it over and over in the quiet hours of the long, cold nights. The unanswered question never diminished. Blay’s passion for the craft, however, did. He found himself a rich man, and even the luster of “professional power-shifting” had grown tiresome to him.
Blay the Assassin was done.
Or so he thought.
Continue reading A Professional Question of Murder – (Flash Fiction)
Number Eight didn’t know it, but I knew she wasn’t an Android.
I don’t blame her. I’m no Robot either. The Masterson’s only bought me believing I was an Android. I’ve been lying to them since.
Understand this: it was a matter of air quality. The Masterson’s, my employers, were one of the few upper-city families who could afford a Dome, complete with the latest in air-scrubbing technology.
You didn’t even need a mask inside the Dome. You could just walk around, and breathe in the air.
I caught Number Eight when I was walking into the East Wing’s kitchen. Number Eight had her back turned to me, and was printing meals from the Dinner-press.
Continue reading Our Human Secret – Flash Fiction
I was this close to falling asleep, when my sheets were ripped away. I thought I was going to die of cold shock.
The cracking of naked knuckle bones broke the silence, and a long, white finger speared out of the dark. It stopped an inch from my nose.
“CHOOSE!” the voice tolled louder than an iron bell. I couldn’t see the face behind the deep-cowled hood, but somehow I knew it was better that way. Frost fringed his hood, despite the mid-summer heat.
“Did you come to kill me?”
“CHOOSE!” the long, bony finger jabbed at me.
Continue reading An Unexpected Death | Flash Fiction
The girl with the flower tied to her back was called Amber.
She rode a speckled grey mare through the forests of grain, the flower’s white petals lapping at her shoulder with every stride. Dirt furrows rose and fell like foothills, and the forest of grain never changed-
Until Amber’s head was nearly lopped off by a scythe.
Continue reading The Vast Size of Old Age (Flash Fiction