As the title suggests Chris has set up the UWA Writing Forum!
http://uwawriters.l.makeforum.org/forum/
Escape Pod 620: Promise (Artemis Rising)
6 years ago
Friday, October 24, 2008
Saturday, October 18, 2008
Adjustable Rate Mortgage
Another idea prompt from INKsters.
Prompt:
Adjustable Rate Mortgage
When his mother saw the condition of the house, she burst into tears and ...
And the rest of it:
Adjustable Rate Mortgage
If his mother could see the condition of the house, she would have burst into tears. Or rather burst to a fever of feline affection amidst the kibble and crunched newspaper with a plaintive wail of despair.
Tibbles set his claws onto the cardboard box.
He had despised the others. All that mewling, bright-eyes and perky ears business was utter nonsense. They were sell-outs, vying for the attention of those hairless, bowlegged apes, all hoping for the sound of ‘aw, how cute’ before being airlifted and squashed into a choke hold against somebody’s bosom.
He made prompt work of the first cardboard flap, enough to get a paw through. Not enough for a head. He kept scratching.
He had despised them all, held them in contempt, refusing to be part of their despicable ploy. Yet, why was he the one trapped in box that reeked of oranges being carried away to God knows where? He didn’t even like oranges! He put his canines to work, ripping the flap away.
Good, now for escape.
He poked his nose out, readying his haunches for a surprise get away. Those bow-legged monkeys would never know what hit them! He made to pounce—
And felt the hands close around his belly, lifting him free of the ground in a whirl of ground, sky and monkey. No! He was to be a fierce beast of the urban jungle, prowling through the night, silent as the wind! Not some fluffy, bell ridden house cat! He squirmed, kicking his legs as the arms cradled him.
A hand fell over his head. Rubbing between his ears.
Oh, this was… quite nice. Very nice indeed.
The hand stopped.
Tibbles dug in his claws.
The hand stroked again.
Now this was quite civilised.
No! They couldn’t turn him over to the dark side! He must endure! He thought of the others who had fallen. Endure for their sake!
The hand shifted under his chin with a small scratch.
Perhaps he could stay a little while. The others hadn’t mentioned this “new home” came with a personal slave. If his mortgage consisted of a few well-placed bites to get them trained, some mewling and a few free massages, perhaps he could launch a secret investigation.
Yes, a secret operation! Undercover. Deep undercover.
He began to purr.
Prompt:
Adjustable Rate Mortgage
When his mother saw the condition of the house, she burst into tears and ...
And the rest of it:
Adjustable Rate Mortgage
If his mother could see the condition of the house, she would have burst into tears. Or rather burst to a fever of feline affection amidst the kibble and crunched newspaper with a plaintive wail of despair.
Tibbles set his claws onto the cardboard box.
He had despised the others. All that mewling, bright-eyes and perky ears business was utter nonsense. They were sell-outs, vying for the attention of those hairless, bowlegged apes, all hoping for the sound of ‘aw, how cute’ before being airlifted and squashed into a choke hold against somebody’s bosom.
He made prompt work of the first cardboard flap, enough to get a paw through. Not enough for a head. He kept scratching.
He had despised them all, held them in contempt, refusing to be part of their despicable ploy. Yet, why was he the one trapped in box that reeked of oranges being carried away to God knows where? He didn’t even like oranges! He put his canines to work, ripping the flap away.
Good, now for escape.
He poked his nose out, readying his haunches for a surprise get away. Those bow-legged monkeys would never know what hit them! He made to pounce—
And felt the hands close around his belly, lifting him free of the ground in a whirl of ground, sky and monkey. No! He was to be a fierce beast of the urban jungle, prowling through the night, silent as the wind! Not some fluffy, bell ridden house cat! He squirmed, kicking his legs as the arms cradled him.
A hand fell over his head. Rubbing between his ears.
Oh, this was… quite nice. Very nice indeed.
The hand stopped.
Tibbles dug in his claws.
The hand stroked again.
Now this was quite civilised.
No! They couldn’t turn him over to the dark side! He must endure! He thought of the others who had fallen. Endure for their sake!
The hand shifted under his chin with a small scratch.
Perhaps he could stay a little while. The others hadn’t mentioned this “new home” came with a personal slave. If his mortgage consisted of a few well-placed bites to get them trained, some mewling and a few free massages, perhaps he could launch a secret investigation.
Yes, a secret operation! Undercover. Deep undercover.
He began to purr.
Friday, October 17, 2008
Writing Workshops with John Harman @ UWA extension
I've done a fair number of John Harman's workshops through UWA extension and they are absolutely awesome. I cannot even begin to explain how useful they were. John Harman's a published thriller writer, and even if you don't write thrillers everything he mentions can be applied to any genre. I'm considering repeating these workshops - they are that good.
Below are two workshops scheduled for this semester. I recommend the characters workshop. The writer's life is useful for finding ways to get movitated enough to begin (or finish) projects, but does not cover as much technique on writing, plot etc, etc. The workshops are a touch pricey (mainly for the rent of the room and any handouts) but worth every penny.
UWA Extension Website is regularly updated with workshops schedualed over the summer. At a glance HOW TO DRAMATISE YOUR STORY THROUGH NARRATIVE STRUCTURE and WRITING THE POPULAR NOVEL are also running in Feb.
THE ART OF CREATING MEMORABLE CHARACTERS
John Harman, Author
Fictional characters must possess sufficient strength of character to handle difficult dilemmas. In other words, characters must be up to the plot. This workshop shows how to create convincing characters, including how to write characters of the opposite gender.
081090 Sat 9.30am-4.30pm Feb 9 $165
THE WRITER’S LIFE
John Harman, Author
A writer needs to possess an almost bi-polar personality, with a hide tough enough to withstand rejection yet a soul sensitive enough to induce inspiration. Is it even possible to be published and if so, what does the writer need to know about the publishing industry? How may the aspiring writer induce and improve creativity, overcome writer’s block, organise time and produce saleable work?
075112 Sat 9.30am-4.30pm Nov 3 $165
Below are two workshops scheduled for this semester. I recommend the characters workshop. The writer's life is useful for finding ways to get movitated enough to begin (or finish) projects, but does not cover as much technique on writing, plot etc, etc. The workshops are a touch pricey (mainly for the rent of the room and any handouts) but worth every penny.
UWA Extension Website is regularly updated with workshops schedualed over the summer. At a glance HOW TO DRAMATISE YOUR STORY THROUGH NARRATIVE STRUCTURE and WRITING THE POPULAR NOVEL are also running in Feb.
THE ART OF CREATING MEMORABLE CHARACTERS
John Harman, Author
Fictional characters must possess sufficient strength of character to handle difficult dilemmas. In other words, characters must be up to the plot. This workshop shows how to create convincing characters, including how to write characters of the opposite gender.
081090 Sat 9.30am-4.30pm Feb 9 $165
THE WRITER’S LIFE
John Harman, Author
A writer needs to possess an almost bi-polar personality, with a hide tough enough to withstand rejection yet a soul sensitive enough to induce inspiration. Is it even possible to be published and if so, what does the writer need to know about the publishing industry? How may the aspiring writer induce and improve creativity, overcome writer’s block, organise time and produce saleable work?
075112 Sat 9.30am-4.30pm Nov 3 $165
Thursday, October 16, 2008
The Treatment
This was a little something I wrote with the idea prompt from INKsters. I had a bit of fun with it :) The theme was:
The Treatment. What treatments have you had recently? What embarrassing things is it finally time to share with your peers?
***
The Treatment
“Hmmm,” the doctor bent over my face squinting, her prescription glasses turning her eyes small a beady. “Seems something went wrong.”
“Wrong?” I heard myself echo. My fists bunched, nails digging into my palms. “It’s the size of a freaking watermelon!”
“Now, now, dear--”
Excuse me, did I hear that right? Dear? Did she think I was in pre-school? I cut her off before she could go on. “Don’t dear me, this is your fault! Yesterday Katie Holmes gave me a wedgy so high that I could’ve been hung from the washing line by my knickers!”
“I’m sure that had nothing to do with your face, Matilda.” She gave a small cough. “You’ve clearly had a bad reaction.”
“If I wanted to look like a transsexual I would have asked!” My fingers worked over the bristles on my cheek. Heads were going to start rolling if this wasn’t fixed in the next forty-eight hours. “I wanted acne treatment, not a beard!”
“Well, your acne has gotten better.”
My face looked like a pincushion that a cat had had a go at – that was hardly what I would call improvement. I struggled for a suitable comeback, then decided a glowering silence might just serve me best.
The doctor gave another cough, one of those ‘ahem-hems’ in the back of her throat that sounded like she was choking on phlegm. Silently, I hoped she was.
“We’ll adjust your medication.”
My shoulders squared. “No. I don’t want anymore of your confounded meds.” Our verbal spats were turning into a game of tennis – or perhaps ping-pong since the ball didn’t land where it was supposed to. “I just want this beard gone!”
The doctor studied me for a moment. Her fingers probing the edge of her chin in thought.Was she mocking me?
“I have something that might just do the trick.” She said after a minute.
“What?” I demanded.
The doctor swiveled on her seat, reaching for a desk drawer and rummaging. With a thump the drawer shut and those beady little eyes turned back to me. I waited, wondering what she could possibly give me.
She handed me a razor.
The Treatment. What treatments have you had recently? What embarrassing things is it finally time to share with your peers?
***
The Treatment
“Hmmm,” the doctor bent over my face squinting, her prescription glasses turning her eyes small a beady. “Seems something went wrong.”
“Wrong?” I heard myself echo. My fists bunched, nails digging into my palms. “It’s the size of a freaking watermelon!”
“Now, now, dear--”
Excuse me, did I hear that right? Dear? Did she think I was in pre-school? I cut her off before she could go on. “Don’t dear me, this is your fault! Yesterday Katie Holmes gave me a wedgy so high that I could’ve been hung from the washing line by my knickers!”
“I’m sure that had nothing to do with your face, Matilda.” She gave a small cough. “You’ve clearly had a bad reaction.”
“If I wanted to look like a transsexual I would have asked!” My fingers worked over the bristles on my cheek. Heads were going to start rolling if this wasn’t fixed in the next forty-eight hours. “I wanted acne treatment, not a beard!”
“Well, your acne has gotten better.”
My face looked like a pincushion that a cat had had a go at – that was hardly what I would call improvement. I struggled for a suitable comeback, then decided a glowering silence might just serve me best.
The doctor gave another cough, one of those ‘ahem-hems’ in the back of her throat that sounded like she was choking on phlegm. Silently, I hoped she was.
“We’ll adjust your medication.”
My shoulders squared. “No. I don’t want anymore of your confounded meds.” Our verbal spats were turning into a game of tennis – or perhaps ping-pong since the ball didn’t land where it was supposed to. “I just want this beard gone!”
The doctor studied me for a moment. Her fingers probing the edge of her chin in thought.Was she mocking me?
“I have something that might just do the trick.” She said after a minute.
“What?” I demanded.
The doctor swiveled on her seat, reaching for a desk drawer and rummaging. With a thump the drawer shut and those beady little eyes turned back to me. I waited, wondering what she could possibly give me.
She handed me a razor.
Wednesday, October 1, 2008
INKsters and Blogs
Recently I've been mucking around on Second Life for another unit and I have discovered a competitive writing group that runs a daily competition for writers, INKsters. Any stories entered are to be 500 words long and while people may not be interested in entering any of these competitions, INKsters do provide a list of daily writing prompts/topics which is quiet useful to get started with.
I've added a link to their blog as well as a link to my own blog. If anyone else knows of any other sites or blogs of their own they would like put up send me the url and I shall do so :)
I've added a link to their blog as well as a link to my own blog. If anyone else knows of any other sites or blogs of their own they would like put up send me the url and I shall do so :)
The Unfinished Boy
This is the anime that I was talking about in the tut a few weeks back with the whole surreal planet thing. I finally had time to find it :)
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