Rules

Rules:
1. Read the writing prompt, but only the prompt. I don't want your writing to be influenced by my (or anyone else's) response.
2. Sit down and spend 15-30 min writing whatever comes to mind. Poetry, prose, whatever you want, just write something. Don't make it something you labor over. Write. Enjoy.
3. Share in the comments.
4. Please keep it PG-13 and under. Don't go all 50 Shades or Chucky on me.
5. There is a time and a place for constructive criticism. This is not one of them. This is a stretching exercise. Please remember the words of Thumper, "If you can't say nothin' nice, don't say nothin' at all."
***All material on this site remains the property of the original author. Do not copy or share without permission. Thank you! **


Monday, October 20, 2014

Grab a Book! #3

Usually the name of the game is to grab the nearest book, but I'm changing the rules this time.  Grab the book you're currently reading (and if that includes a few books, grab the one you're most excited about - the one you'd take with you into a bubble bath, should you have time for a soak). 

In order to avoid skipping ahead in the book, turn to the page you're currently at, then turn back 20 pages.  Then count down 8 full sentences on the page, and use that full sentence for your prompt. 

Don't forget to post what book you're reading and the sentence you land on for your prompt, so we know where you're coming from.  (And if you should land on a more exciting sentence on the same page, it's not as if anyone's going to check your work.  Go with what works best for you!)

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My response:

I'm reading FIRE by Kristin Cashore, because I loved GRACELING.
I ended up on page 245 where my line is, "Well," he said, "I hope you keep asking."

Viscount Mullen stormed into the great hall, water spraying from his cloak and boots onto polished marble and expensive rugs.  His valet tried not to cringe, but he could not help it when he took a direct hit to his brow.

"Sorry, Scully, it's miserable out there." 

"Mis're'bl in 'here, too, by the looks 'a 'im!" the scullery maid whispered as she passed Scully in the hallway, both of their eyes fixed on the Viscount's shoulders as he disappeared into the drawing room.

The count stood at the fireplace, a complete picture of nobility in his suit and tails, right down to the glass of sherry in his hand.  He turned, squinting as his son entered the room.

"Here here!  Don't keep an old man waiting, son!"  He leaned on his cane and made his way towards a tall, wing-backed chair.  "What says the Lady?"

The viscount scowled and poured himself a drink before sinking onto a couch by the fire.  He sipped before answering.  "She'll not have me, Father."

The count sputtered, sherry spattering his cravat.  "What do you say?  Has she turned you down?"

"Arrogant.  Prideful.  Cold and ... heartless.  Heartless, Father!"  He shook his head and swallowed down another gulp of comfort.

The sputtering turned into a chuckle, then a hearty laugh.  "And so begins the dance, dear boy.  Oh, do chin up, you're not the first to have a fair face turn up her nose at you.  But there are no rules on how many times you can ask, and, with one such as she ... well, I do hope you keep asking!"



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