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Friday, March 19, 2010

Prompt Friday: "Scar Stories"

Prompt:
“He had a scar…”


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”Scar Stories”

He had a scar in the shape of a crescent moon just next to his eye. He knew for a fact that it looked ridiculous; and since he had such a distinctive scar, he should probably go become a superhero or an evil mastermind or something, but he wasn’t, so he got over it.

Theo got his one and only scar from his sister Hannah during a ill-conceived ice skating trip. He was home from college and he dragged her away from yet another trip to the mall with her friends. Hannah, who was five years younger and three inches taller, must have had weak ankles or poor balance or overly affected by gravitational pull because she managed to fall no less than fifteen times within the first ten minutes. And of course, the sixteenth time, she managed to fall in such a manner that her head went back and toward the left and directly into his glasses.

He didn’t even fall down, and it didn’t hurt all that badly, but as he leaned down to help Hannah up off her ass, he felt something warm run down his face and a little kid started crying.

“You’re bleeding,” Hannah pointed out, brushing ice off the seat of her pants.

And that’s when it started hurting.

Theo managed to make another three children cry before making it to the men’s room, where he noted -- in the smeared, smudged, foggy mirror – that his face was bleeding in a completely perfect horror movie fashion. He mopped it up with a handful of paper towels and headed back out to the ice, where Hannah was tapping her ice skate-clad foot against the rubber-padded floor.

“Done?” she asked, smiling fondly, teasingly, at him.

“Yeah; come on, squirt,” Theo said, wrapping an arm around her shoulders and leading her out of the ice rink.


nt - 3/19/10
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Notes: It’s a bit short, and a bit late, but it’s been a bit hectic lately.

*Prompt taken from The Write Brain Workbook: 366 Exercises to Liberate Your Writing by Bonnie Neubauer

Wednesday, March 17, 2010

Question Wednesday

Q: Explain the story behind a framed picture in your house.

A: A little Dropkick Murphys for your St. Patty's Day:



Little known fact: it takes three hours to boil corned beef. I just dedicated more time to a slab of cow than I spend on myself. And I’m not even going to eat it.

Anyway, back to the question: I won’t bore you with unexciting stories about the fact that the inside of my house is a veritable shrine of my mother’s photos of me and my brother (a good number of them those awkward, posed portraits you get at the mall). Instead, I will tell you of the slightly more exciting story of one of my own photos.

In my bedroom, in one of those ‘SUCCESS!’ picture frames you buy for graduation, I have a picture of myself and my best friend, Julia. We are at the president of our college’s house, and we are clinking wine glasses together, putting on airs of pretension. It was the senior dinner for departments, and of course, I couldn’t actually make the dinner for my department (English/Creative Writing), so I went with Julia to hers (Geology).

So, we get all dressed up and make the (literal) trek down the Hill to the President’s house, where I feel like I’m crashing the party (which was exciting). Julia and I hit up the snacks and the wine. We didn’t see the President (which was really okay with me), so instead, we discussed the fact that the couch in the living room was ridiculously shiny, talked to seniors that we didn’t really know that well, and (I, at least) hit up the free wine. By the time the picture of us was taken, I’m pretty sure I was two glasses of wine in. Because there’s nothing better than getting particularly tipsy at the President’s house among administration and professors who don’t know you. And it took a lot of effort to get the picture to come out, too, since the lighting inside was really awful.

Anyway, after we enjoyed ourselves there, we had to hike back UP the Hill to our dorm, which was a much more exciting feat, especially since it was necessary to stop and take drunk pictures of an enormous dog and a bush that looked like it was ready to eat people.

There’s also another picture of me and Julia, this one in a five dollar Wal-mart frame, of us leaning up against this antique truck that we stumbled across in a parking lot. Julia’s mom took the picture, and it’s definitely made of win.

If anyone has questions, feel free to email them to
email me
at nictusablog@gmail.com or leave them in the box in the sidebar, over there >>>

x-nic

Monday, March 15, 2010

Status Report Monday (I am your fearless leader)

Dear Long Island Weather:
You are insane. Please stop uprooting trees, particularly along the routes I need to drive. As wonderful as it is to see the countryside, I have a schedule to follow.
Best,
Nic

So, it has been a month and a half since I sent in my latest edits for Anomaly to Legendary, and still on word. I guess I'll be calling instead of emailing this week. I'm getting to the point where I'm concerned that I'm nagging, but, at the same time, I need to know what's going on. I need to send in my deposit for grad school (which is a truly terrifying concept to me for some reason), and I would like to know if my presence will be required on the West Coast or if I can actually move to London like I want to. Furthermore, I have the first scene, a quasi-sex scene and the final scene for a sequel to Anomaly already plotted out, as well as a rough plot. While I would like to work on it, I don't want to dedicate lots of time to something that will potentially never leave the bottom drawer of some exec's desk.

Harem is going pretty well. I finished a fight scene, but it's being followed by another fight scene, with new characters that I still need to feel out a little bit, so some more choreography needs to happen there. I've officially blown past the 50k mark and am rumbling on towards 60k, so that makes me happy on the inside (and the outside).

All in all, I would be more productive if I didn't a migraine (today is day 5... it's been a blast).

Anyway, now getting to the parenthetical: I am your fearless leader. Apparently, I managed to get a promotion at my ambulette job, without even trying. Sure, it's not that much of a promotion: I have the joy of filling out the morning paperwork (take the pick-up/drop-off times from six pieces of paper and condense them to one...). It's not rocket science, but I do get paid an extra hour every day, so that will be a nice addition to my grad school savings.

And now it's time to pop some aspirin and do some more work on Harem. It should be fun.

x-nic