tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1149217012399643733.post3938502493735951805..comments2023-12-06T00:48:23.734-08:00Comments on Daily Writing Practice: Wednesday January 6th, 2016Marchttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14952331166517430843noreply@blogger.comBlogger3125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1149217012399643733.post-49041779363844306422016-01-10T19:56:36.429-08:002016-01-10T19:56:36.429-08:00Greg - I need to start writing down your guesses f...Greg - I need to start writing down your guesses for future yearlong prompt use :P<br /><br />I hope your flight went well and that Malta has offered you a warm welcome!<br /><br />You're really good at scene setting, you know that right? I envy your ability to create such vivid settings for your tales. Also: Ben and Bill are quickly becoming favorites with me. Bill in particular :)<br /><br />No comment on the item they're off to purloin, for the record.<br /><br />Ivy - hah! I wish Kelci the best of luck, as that sounds like a seriously awesome craft project :DMarchttps://www.blogger.com/profile/14952331166517430843noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1149217012399643733.post-59082915570814914062016-01-07T20:33:59.958-08:002016-01-07T20:33:59.958-08:00There were sparkling bits of stardust, brightly co...There were sparkling bits of stardust, brightly colored snowflakes, and sticky, white swamp goo on every part of the table’s surface. So much that the dark cherry wood couldn’t be seen underneath it all. Indeed, the sheer size of the mess was enough to send her mother on yet another conniption fit for the history books. <br /><br />But Kelci couldn’t care less; she had the best idea ever!<br /><br />It came to her in a dream: a large, full color, topographical map of the dreamscape she’d spent sixteen years constructing. She knew exactly how high the Fambian Mountains were to the east, and how deep Lake Nautise was directly south of them. She knew how many trees were in the Retinala forest. She knew each town, each roadside tavern, even most of the people that inhabited this world.<br /><br />So why not break out each and every art supply in the house (and from the corner store with her supposed lunch money) to create it on paper so others could see it?<br /><br />Kelci just hoped she could finish the final touches and clean up the aftermath before her mom got back from work. <br />Anonymousnoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1149217012399643733.post-44423627953603060742016-01-07T04:34:31.480-08:002016-01-07T04:34:31.480-08:00I guess both ice and slush are dangerous in their ...I guess both ice and slush are dangerous in their own ways; at least at this time of year you're not trying to get to and from the farmers' market regularly! I'm looking forward to seeing what you've gone with for the year-long prompt this time: today I shall guess that it starts off with a high-stakes poker game in a quiet backwater town where the players are much, much more than they seem.<br />I fly to Malta tomorrow, so if I'm a little erratic for a few days it will be due to finding my feet there and starting the new job, and possibly dodgy wi-fi connections :)<br />Heh, nice punch-line. I wasn't at all sure where you were going with your craft materials until your narrator started asking about live animals and then I had enough of a clue to guess. I like the little details, and find myself wondering what a witch would use googly-eyes for....<br /><br /><b>The craft project</b><br />The room was low-ceilinged but spacious, and windows in three of the long walls meant that during daylight it felt open, almost pavilion-like. Now at night-time, with the grey blinds drawn and the inset spotlights in the ceiling turned on, the room felt warm and almost theatre like. There was a strong smell of turpentine in the air, there were easels leaning higgeldy-piggeldy in a corner, and on long workbench, directly below the windows contained tube after tube of brilliant-hued oil paints.<br />Bill had opened the doors of a low cupboard and was studying the pottery he'd found in there. Most pieces would be picked up, scrutinised, and then dropped on the floor, where he appeared to appreciate the smashing sound. So far he'd only set two pieces aside to be kept.<br />Ben sighed and put his mobile-phone, a slender black glassy razor, in his inside jacket pocket.<br />"She got the emails confused," he said. "I told her that this isn't a job we'd consider, and she asked me where we were right now." He sighed again, sounding very frustrated.<br />"We're not after examples of Euphratean extreme pottery casting then?"<br />"No." Ben noticed the pottery shards on the floor. "Jesus Bill, did you have to break them all? They're probably student work!"<br />"Then they need to learn better," said Bill equably. He dropped another pot, its shattering a bright, happy noise in the room. "So what are we after?"<br />"Extreme <i>poetry</i>," said Ben. "Apparantly there's a locked auditorium nearby where the legendary body poet Marco Kwan got naked, covered himself in blue paint, and perfomed <i>il cigno blu</i> for the first time. It was a scandal and nearly got him thrown out of the university, plus three marriage proposals and a protest from PETA."<br />"Sounds cool," said Bill. "Not really our kind of thing though. What are we supposed to be liberating?"<br />"The canvas he performed the poetry on," said Ben.<br />Bill dropped the last pot, and shrugged. "Well she got one thing right," he said. "We're here. Let's go get the piece of paper some naked dude rolled around on and collect our fee."Greghttps://www.blogger.com/profile/08503319830584828982noreply@blogger.com