Day 7

PROMPT: Think of a memorable quote from a book, show or movie, remove it entirely from its original context, streamline/improve it, and then write a story around it using a completely different plot, completely different characters, and even a completely different world!

Terre held a flame over her ring for a few seconds and lifted it to her face. She inhaled the fumes and held breath. Minton walked in just as she was starting to exhale. “We’re only supposed to do that twice a day Terre.” Busted. “Shut up, Minton.” She said, brushing him off. There was no use in denying it. There wasn’t anyone alive who could get out of bed in the morning without a hit of Plex. And it was just as implausible to say that it was her second hit of the day than her first. It was only three units past rise.

“It’s not a joke, Terre. Too much can mess with your head out in the field.” His voice was calm and robotic, as usual. She smirked. “Yes, I attended the lecture thank you.” Everyone attended the lecture once they were appropriated their Plex ring. Until they were of age, it was applied topically by a guardian, but the application was unpleasant and imperfect. The ring was far more efficient, but it was easier to abuse it. So everyone was required to take a course.  “Consider me scared straight,” she said passing him to get out of the room. “I’ve seen it happen, Terre. It costs lives out there.”

She turned to face him, but his back was still to her. “It saves lives, Minton.” He angled his head toward her. “There’s a fine line between those.”

“Well,” she shrugged, “You get busy living or you get busy dying.”

He turned to her. “What does that mean?”

“It means there are more fine lines in this world than just the ones provided to us.”

“Be careful what you say—“

“Or what? I’ll be sent straight to the front lines?”

He was silent.

“Well, it was my turn anyway I guess.”

Day 6

PROMPT: Put your iPod or iTunes on shuffle. Write a story based on the next song that you hear. You can find inspiration in the story or the emotions of the song. A lyric could even become the title for your story. The song I got was 'Alone with You' by Jake Owen.

            He stared at the phone in his hand as it buzzed, watching her name light up the screen. If he waited long enough it would stop, but it seemed like each time she called the phone would ring for longer and longer. He picked up finally on what felt like the ninth ring. He sighed, “Mackenzie.”

            He heard the smirk in her voice “Hey baby. I need you.” He looked over at the clock on his bedside table. Three AM. He paused for a moment. “I don’t think it’s a good time right now.” Her voice turned from a smirk to a pout. “Aw, come on. You don’t mean that.” He did. But that didn’t mean he would stick to it. He sat up in bed and ruffled a hand through his hair. “Where are you?” He heard a laugh and then a knock at the door. Of course.

            He stood up, briefly pausing in front of the mirror, but she wouldn’t care much what he looked like. It would change nothing. He opened the door and found her smirk waiting for him. She was a mess. Her long blonde hair was sticking up in several directions. Her mascara had run under her eyes, making her look like she hadn’t slept in months. “What took you so long?” she said putting a hand on his bare chest and pushing him back into his apartment. She backed up to lock the door behind her, her eyes never leaving his.

He could smell the alcohol as she got closer to him again. “You’re drunk.” “That’s why I called you.” He raised an eyebrow at her candor. “I can’t keep doing this Mack—“ She brought her lips to meet his and let out a soft shhhh. She looked at him. “You wouldn’t want me doing anything stupid when I’m drunk, would you?”

He felt like he was being torn apart. Watching her like this, every time she called. Every time she came. Trying to feel close to her was like hitting his head against a wall over and over again. But for some reason, every time that wall showed up again, banging his head against it seemed like the only option.

“Can I get you some coffee?” he tried. She smiled and tugged his arm toward the bedroom, stumbling somewhat. “That’s not what I want.” “You’re too drunk right now Mackenzie,” he said his voice slightly raised. She became suddenly serious, staring him right in the eyes. She brought him close and kissed him forcefully. He put his hands on her upper arms and pushed her away, holding her at arms length. A tear fell, dragging her makeup down her cheek. “Come on baby,” she said, reaching for his waist. “I love you. I need you.”

He loosened his grip and was struck, not for the first time, by her careless words. He stood stoic in the center of the room. She took a step back toward him and kissed his shoulder. “Please.” She said, kissing her way toward his neck. He didn’t have the strength to stop her. “Please. I love you baby.” He couldn’t take it anymore. He lifted a hand to her cheek and brought her mouth to his. She jumped into his arms, wrapping her legs around his waist and he led them both to the bedroom. 

Day 5 and a So-So Excuse

PENALTY! I did miss yesterday. I was away for the weekend and made it home at around 3am last night. I did actually still think I would get a post in, but to be honest I fell asleep exploring the internet's plentiful writing prompt resources. Plus, the fact that there is a penalty for missing a day makes me feel like I haven't failed. The penalty is doubling the word count, so 500 words for today.

PROMPT: Start by freewriting, beginning with the words "Your mother." You can go any direction you want, so long as those are the first two words.

          Your mother never tells you that it’s easier to stay in the same place than to change. At least mine didn’t. Mine told me to work harder, that I was a bit of a slacker. Mine told me that I could go to an Ivy League school if I wanted to take on the loans. Mine told me that after four years of college, she wanted me to have a career. She told me that I just needed a foot in the door and then I could stay there. New York is the place people move to, not the place people leave. So she wasn’t too happy when I told her that I was quitting my full-time job, foregoing full health benefits, and giving up my apartment. To be fair, I didn’t have a real plan. I had been making money for six years, working day in and day out. I didn’t see a point in continuing to stockpile money that I would never use. So I decided to take some time to travel.

It wasn’t that there wasn’t a specific plan, though I’m sure that would’ve helped a little bit. But I think that had I had an itinerary, a budget and a book of maps of the world, she still would have made it seem like an irresponsible decision. It was amazing that no matter how old you are, telling your mother about a risk you’re taking always makes you feel like a frivolous teenager. And I’d never even made decisions like this in high school.

Still I had gotten through the month of packing and shopping and guidebook reading. I had made it to the airport despite the guilt and tears. Despite the crushing feeling that I was doing something wrong. I knew I would get past that feeling once I got to Italy.

I handed my ticket to a smiling woman at the gate and slowly made my way down the ramp and onto the largest plane I’ve ever been on. Shuttle trips down to Miami didn’t do it justice. This plane was massive. They were multiple aisles and sections. There was more space than made sense to me, but the seats still seemed crammed together. I made my way to the back of the plane, where my recently scanned ticket indicated I would start my journey.

I stepped over two people to take my window seat and buckled up even though we probably wouldn’t be moving any time soon, let alone taking off. I wasn’t the nervous flyer I once had been, but there was still some residual anxiety from my childhood fears that made me just a little uneasy. The man next to me noticed me checking my seat belt every few minutes and decided that patting me on the hand would somehow make the flight more comfortable for me. “Okay, yes” he said, enthusiastically, with a strong accent that I could only assume was Italian. I offered a closed-mouth smile in return.

I pulled out my guidebook and started flipping through the post-it marked pages. I had the gist of it memorized by now, especially for this first leg for which I actually had a plan. After Rome, Florence and Venice, I didn’t really know where I was headed. It was part of the appeal to me. I figured I would know what to do as I went along. Plans would form themselves. “You go to Italy first time?” asked the man next to me. I nodded. “Yes.” He smiled “You can come for dinner?”

Day 3

PROMPT: The nation is controlled by…

“The nation is controlled by a bunch of morons.”

Karen rolled her eyes. “You know, you really should consider not watching TV anymore.” Dave ignored her and carried on. “I don’t understand how it is possible for such a large number of people, selected by the vote of the people, have such an inability to get things accomplished.”

She sighed, bored by the topic from the first sentence. “So sports, huh?” He sat down at the table, watching TV over her shoulder, and took a bite of pasta straight from the bowl. “I mean, do you think it’s just unwillingness to get things done?” But it was rhetorical, she knew. If he was actually present right now, he’d know better than to ask her a politics questions. She’d told him several times she hated politics, let alone her distaste for long-winded, high-horse diatribes by people who didn’t really seem to know what they’re talking about.

Peter finally walked in and sat down at the table.

“Politics?”

“Yep.”

“Anything specific this time?”

“Nope.”

“So he just gets generally upset about general government?”

“You live with the guy.”

“I know, but he doesn’t get so indignant when we’re playing Halo.”

“Yeah it’s hit or miss I guess. Lucky me.”

“How long is he going to be like this?”

“Don’t know. I don’t usually stick around for the whole thing.”

Peter looked at the bowl of pasta on the table and then at Dave, who was sitting his chair, looking past both of them to the screen. Peter turned around to see what he was watching. CNN. Peter could swear he only watched this stuff while Karen was in the apartment.

“So,” Peter said, returning his gaze to Karen. “Want to go get pizza instead?”

Day 2

PROMPT: "There's something you need to know about that night."

“There’s something you need to know about that night,”

I could feel the change between us. A moment ago I had felt warm and safe as he touched my cheek. I could feel my guard shooting back up, strengthened by the few months I had let it down. Knowing that it was there had never made it easier for me to allow people in, but I had with Jason. It had taken time and the right circumstances. But those words, that look on his face. I knew instinctively that something had shifted and it took ever fiber of my being to just get up and run before I actually heard what he had to say. Why? What? There were questions that made sense to ask, but I couldn’t bring myself to speak.

            He conceded after several minutes of silence. “It’s not that I haven’t wanted to tell you, but these past few months have been… more than I could have imagined and I knew that you would have run. That I would have chased you away.” He had told me the night of our first kiss that convincing me to go out with him had felt like chasing a deer; He had made only the slightest movements to get closer so as not to scare me away. He was good at reading people. He knew me even better now, saying everything he wanted to say before saying what he had to say. He knew that once he said what he had to say I would be gone. By my estimation there weren’t many things it could be. Cheating stood at the forefront of my mind.

            “I wasn’t alone in that room when you came in.” I steeled myself and prepared to cut my losses. “I had just finished a meeting… with your father.”

            I hadn’t seen that coming. 

Day 1

PROMPT: What would be going on inside the head of a young executive nervously biting her nails?

Oh god. I can’t believe I just hit ‘Send.’ How can I have hit send just like that? They should ask you every time if you are sure want to send the message. I’m sure the few times when that saves someone’s ass would totally outweigh the time when it’s a pain. Crap. I wonder if the ‘undo’ button works. Sometimes I think that then only half the message sends and you end up looking even stupider. I’m not really sure that makes sense.

Okay, so you’re the assistant of partner at a major law firm and you just sent an email to a competing firm containing all of the notes from the meeting with the client. Let’s think about this rationally. Step one… step one should be telling my boss? Telling someone more sympathetic? Asking for advice? Calling the assistant at the competing firm? Going over there and crying to her face? Make up a story about a bad day and that you broke up with your boyfriend this morning? Maybe spill coffee down your shirt on the way over there. Just for some authenticity. That might not be a bad more. Right?

Alright. Deep breaths. In. Out. What was in those notes? Was it anything truly vital? Anything case changing? I don’t think so, but that’s why I’m not the actually lawyer. I’m going to get fired over this if I don’t fix it. There’s no question about it. I feel like I want to throw up right now.

New email. There can’t possibly be a reply already. Wait. Mail delivery system. Delivery to the recipient failed. I typed it in wrong! It didn’t send. Thank god… I’m going to need another manicure. 

The Breakdown

The Problem

Okay, here it is.

Considering I still identify as a writer, it's incredible to think that I can't remember the last time I composed a full sentence simply for the writing of it all. 

Writer's Block be damned; This is Writer's Laziness.

One of the consistent writers' tips flowing across my twitter feed has been the idea that you just need to write- anything. I've always had a problem with that idea. 

Every time I write, I want it to be perfect. I want there to be no spelling errors. No grammatical missteps. No wrong words or incorrect punctuations. 

I worry incessantly about my ideas not being creative enough, my dialogue being dull and unoriginal. The pressure to write my best work right now stops me before I get to sentence 2. 

So here's what I'm going to do. 

The Pledge

I'm taking it upon myself to write something- anything- every day. 

It's scary as hell considering how long it's been, which is why I had to force myself to take the word 'almost' out of that last sentence. 

The Rules

1. I write every day. 

2. The writing can happen at any time of day- morning, night, whatever.

3. This is not a midnight to midnight endeavor. My day starts when I wake up and ends when I go to sleep. Something must be posted before my head hits the pillow each night, regardless of the time. 

4. Each post must be at least 250 words. It's a small challenge, but I have to start small if there's any chance of follow through.

5. On that note, this starts with a week. If I get through this week, it goes to a month. If I get through a month, it'll go to three months. I know it's kind of a half-assed commitment, but I feel like a short-term goal is the way to go right now. 

6. If I miss a day by accident, it doubles my word count requirement for the next post. 

7. If I skip a day because of laziness, the next post has to be 1000 words. 

8. I'll work mainly off of writing prompts. Worrying about doing justice to my own ideas is part of the problem, so I need an escape from that. If I have an idea I want to use, great. If not, whatever. 

9. The link to this blog is going on my bookmarks toolbar, right in between Gmail and Facebook, so that I click it by accident all the time. 

AND FINALLY,

10. It does not matter if it is the shittiest writing I have ever done. The point is not to be proud of the product, but of the fact that there is a product at all.