View from the Open Sea by Dyane Forde (April’s prompt)

View from the Open Sea (433 words)

Our dreams are but crystal drops falling from eyes tearing with joy or sorrow; their pings can be heard for miles around; their echoes bounce back to bless or to haunt. One droplet, the best droplet, shone as a white flare for a moment in time; smiles frozen on celluloid; romantic poses pasted into a sticky album and boxed away for latter days…It was just a tiny, liquid drop of youthful expectation collected in a bucket yet it promised the biggest prize. Of all those constrained in my little sea, on that cornerstone I fashioned my house knowing that, one day, I could look back and see it still shining like a beacon

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Writing Craft COULD YOU DO WITHOUT ‘COULD’? by Rayne Hall

In thirty years as an editor, I’ve found the same fatty words bloat the style of many authors.

 

Here is a notorious, fattening, calorie-rich word: ‘could’.  If you cut it from your diet, your writing style will be come sharper and tighter.

 

Beginner writers are prone to overusing it. Experienced authors may use it a lot in their

Harmony and Discord by Amy Glamos

It was the wind that woke her, howling through the screens and lashing against the old house mercilessly.  The lone tree that graced their backyard scraped across the roof with its gnarled, naked limbs, refusing to relent.  Mariah turned to the glowing numbers on the alarm clock.  4:23.  Her eyes went to her husband, soundlessly sprawled on the pillow next to her.  The stark black ink of a tattoo peeking out from beneath the sheets called forth bygone nights that felt scattered by a wind just as strong as the one raging outside.  Her

KEEP THE BEST FOR LAST: Backloading Technique by Rayne Hall

BACKLOADING TECHNIQUE

Here is a nifty technique to give your writing style more impact: Structure your sentences so the most powerful word comes at the end. The last word touches the reader’s psyche more than any other, so make it count.

Short, evocative nouns, adjectives and verbs are best. Here’s a list for your inspiration: death, dead, kiss, lust, treachery, blood, fear, die, kill, deep, cold, heat, dark, boil, pull, grave, grip, grasp, hope, sear, scream, thrill, scar, bone, flesh, skull, wound, pray, pain, soul, child, flee, trap, teeth, curse, escape, safe, love.

These words, on the other hand, have no particular effect: it, then, them, across, through, there, somehow, around,  under, of, off, for, that, be, others, his, her.

Often, restructuring the sentence is all it takes, or perhaps adding, deleting or replacing

The Dangers of Writing In Passive When an Active Voice Is Demanded.

This post is aimed towards genres such as  horror, thriller, suspense and action ( pretty much any genre where the need to grip the audience’s attention is necessary!)

Keep in mind, while reading this post, I am not expert writer. However, I have had more than my share of rough critiques, and I’m grateful for them. Without them I would not have been sought after by publicists for Nadia, and commended on my vigorous technique. My hope in writing this post is to help some of you learn a bit of what I’ve learned. 

Write in an active voice!! Do not attempt to write these genre’s in a passive voice. It will not sit well with your audience. We choose to read these genres with an expectation that we will be blown away, not put to sleep.

Yolanda Marin–A Crumpled Body

The pain surprised her, she had thought it would hurt less this time, that she would be numb to it.  Looking down, a tear fell from her cheek and disappeared into the pool of warm blood.  She knew she would have to go and wash up.  He hated to see her dishevelled, she must look her best or it may set him off again.  Her body ached and she knew that in a little while it would be covered in bruises.

This time had been worse than the others. She had lost consciousness, coming to only when she felt Coco licking the blood off

Francis Franklin-Untitled

The pain surprised her, she had thought it would hurt less this time. Looking down, a tear fell from her cheek and disappeared into the pool of warm blood. She knew she would have to find somewhere to wash. She knew she would have to find somewhere to hide. Already the sky was bright with the coming dawn. The hunters would be awake by now, eager to sniff out her trail. Like this one had. He should have stayed with them instead of charging into the night

Youssef Sleiman–Untitled

The pain surprised her. She had thought it would hurt less this time. 

Looking down, a tear fell from her cheek and disappeared into the pool of warm blood. She knew she would have to find somewhere to wash. The borrowed red dress, doing its job perfectly to the aghast high school talent show audience, didn’t hide anything from her partner onstage, Denis Friebt. He held the gun – and a face awash with defeat, horror and guilt.

“You can’t make me shoot you onstage. They’re going to know about it,” Denis said, wearing a face full of defiance, horror and fear. “I’ll get expelled.”

Justin Michael Schmidt–Untitled

Sleet pinging against dark glass behind him, wind whipped leaves stampeding past his feet on the unlit path, an eerie howl screaming through the treetops; he knew he had trespassed against all reason and common sense, yet he walked further, bent against the storm, forward to meet his nightmare face-to-face.

He is not really here. His body lays where it has fallen in what was once their home. Some part of him knows this, but does not care…

“Maggie!” He was screaming himself now; screaming into oblivion. But, the wind howled to mock him and his lost love.

T L Scott–Untitled

”The pain surprised her, she had thought it would hurt less this time. Looking down, a tear fell from her cheek and disappeared into the pool of warm blood. She knew she would have to find somewhere to wash.”

She couldn’t let them see her like this.  They would take her away again.  Take her away to the bad place.   They said they would cure her.  If they saw her like this then they would know.  She couldn’t let them find out.  They couldn’t help her then and they can’t help her now.  She looked at the fresh cut she had inflicted upon her scarred body.  It wasn’t even bleeding that bad anymore.  She hadn’t succeeded in what she wanted to do.  At least the pain made it go away for a while.  The pain drove it back, but never too far away.  She knew that IT would be back again to torment her.

Christine Campbell–Untitled

The pain surprised her, she had thought it would hurt less this time. Looking down, a tear fell from her cheek and disappeared into the pool of warm blood. She needed to wash up, but her strength was gone, seeping out of her in that warm, sticky flow.

He’d gone now: gone to the pub. He’d be ‘drowning his sorrow’, as the saying goes, except it wasn’t his sorrow. It was hers. She looked at the implements of his torture, knowing she’d have to clean up before he came back. God knew she could do without feeling the weight of his fist on top of everything else.