So here's what I've been doing tonight ...
... Trying to sneakily convince my brain that writing Kismet is play instead of work.
No, seriously, I'm severely writer's-blocked on Hunter's Moon, so I've been trying various little end-runs to try to get my brain thinking in Kismet mode again.
What I've been doing are basic writing exercises; generally the idea is to use some randomly derived starting point, and come up with a story from that. In this case I'm using iTunes Shuffle and song lyrics.
The rules for the first story were to take the 13th line of lyrics from the 13th song after putting the songs on random shuffle and write a flash fiction story in which I took the words from that particular song lyric, in order, and started each sentence with one of them. (I went ahead and added a few extra sentences at the end.)
The lyric was:
"Because these young people walk away from love alone to pace the floor"(Outbound Plane, Nanci Griffith)
Waiting for the Light
Because she hadn't waited for him, Linton waited for her.
These days, he couldn't always remember why. Young ... they'd been so very young. People older than himself had told him back then that someday, the overwhelming flush of young love wouldn't seem so sharp, so real; that even though it seemed a law of nature that they should be together forever, there would come a time when it was all too easy to walk away.
Walk away ...
Away.
From across the years, far away, Linton laughed.
Love was something he'd learned as a child and then lost in the camps. Alone was easier, better. To survive, he'd become as cold as the winter rains, a mask over a dark emptiness within. Pacing behind barbed wire ... watching the light on the other side.
The pathway to the light, for a time, had been Janna.
Floored by her beauty, charmed by her grace, stunned by the loveliness inside her ... living in the camps, he hadn't seen anything beautiful in a long time. And when she died, the part of him that yearned for the light died with her.
Yet still, he waited.
That turned out to be more difficult than enlightening, so I turned to drabbles, i.e. 100-word short pieces.
The story must begin with the chosen song lyric, although it can be altered slightly to fit tense or mood (much as I occasionally changed verb tense in the previous story).
4th song, 9th line
And he took a cigarette out (Life in a Northern Town, Dream Academy)
He took a cigarette out, and struck a match. HOLE IN THE WALL, the matchbook cover said. He cupped his hand to protect it from the rain, and when it flared to life, he dropped the still-full matchbook into the gutter, watched it spin lazily out of sight. Drew a long slow breath of burning smoke and released it into the wet night.
Sometimes rain still made Frank look up in shock, expecting to see low stone ceilings only to be surprised by the gray bellies of clouds infinitely far above him. In time, he supposed he'd forget.
What happened? Why is Frank on a planet where it rains, rather than in an underground city? Who knows? Who cares?
Moving along ...
Drabble (100 words). Same rules as above. 20th song, 5th line of lyrics. Once again, lyrics can be altered slightly if necessary.
And nobody wants to show you how (Corey Hart, Never Surrender)
"And while nobody wants to show you how to shoot a gun more than I do, Meg, I don't think it's necessary." Frank lifted the short hair on the nape of her neck, blew gently to watch the fine curls ripple. "I'll always be here to protect you."
Sometimes she trusted him when he said that, loved him for it. And sometimes she felt the walls of a prison closing around her.
"I'd still rather have a gun."
He shrugged, one slim white shoulder sliding beneath the strap of his evening gown. "Have it your way."
Drabble again. 30th song, 8th line -- this time, the lyric has to end the story.
All the pain you’ve ever felt (Shadows of the Night, Pat Benatar)
Most of the time, it was easy to be married to Linton. Sarah knew he didn't love her, knew all they had was a computer match, a marriage of convenience. She knew that a dead woman held his heart. And, most of the time, she could accept that.
And then there were the other times -- the times she crouched on a cold floor and screamed quietly into her hands in the kitchen, while he lay sleeping in bed a door away, a world away.
At those times he embodied, in her mind, all the pain she'd ever felt.
I always wanted to do something more with Linton's dead wife. At this point, all we really know is that they didn't love each other and she killed herself. I always imagined them both as living these horribly lonely, isolated existences, but whereas Linton likes routine, hates change and is actually sort of happy with his life, Sarah is going quietly nuts and finally just gets to the point were she can't take it anymore.
I'm not, however, making a whole lot of headway on Hunter's Moon.
But I can try to convince myself that buying all these songs on iTunes counts as a business expense! (Hey ... it could.)
No, seriously, I'm severely writer's-blocked on Hunter's Moon, so I've been trying various little end-runs to try to get my brain thinking in Kismet mode again.
What I've been doing are basic writing exercises; generally the idea is to use some randomly derived starting point, and come up with a story from that. In this case I'm using iTunes Shuffle and song lyrics.
The rules for the first story were to take the 13th line of lyrics from the 13th song after putting the songs on random shuffle and write a flash fiction story in which I took the words from that particular song lyric, in order, and started each sentence with one of them. (I went ahead and added a few extra sentences at the end.)
The lyric was:
"Because these young people walk away from love alone to pace the floor"(Outbound Plane, Nanci Griffith)
Waiting for the Light
Because she hadn't waited for him, Linton waited for her.
These days, he couldn't always remember why. Young ... they'd been so very young. People older than himself had told him back then that someday, the overwhelming flush of young love wouldn't seem so sharp, so real; that even though it seemed a law of nature that they should be together forever, there would come a time when it was all too easy to walk away.
Walk away ...
Away.
From across the years, far away, Linton laughed.
Love was something he'd learned as a child and then lost in the camps. Alone was easier, better. To survive, he'd become as cold as the winter rains, a mask over a dark emptiness within. Pacing behind barbed wire ... watching the light on the other side.
The pathway to the light, for a time, had been Janna.
Floored by her beauty, charmed by her grace, stunned by the loveliness inside her ... living in the camps, he hadn't seen anything beautiful in a long time. And when she died, the part of him that yearned for the light died with her.
Yet still, he waited.
That turned out to be more difficult than enlightening, so I turned to drabbles, i.e. 100-word short pieces.
The story must begin with the chosen song lyric, although it can be altered slightly to fit tense or mood (much as I occasionally changed verb tense in the previous story).
4th song, 9th line
And he took a cigarette out (Life in a Northern Town, Dream Academy)
He took a cigarette out, and struck a match. HOLE IN THE WALL, the matchbook cover said. He cupped his hand to protect it from the rain, and when it flared to life, he dropped the still-full matchbook into the gutter, watched it spin lazily out of sight. Drew a long slow breath of burning smoke and released it into the wet night.
Sometimes rain still made Frank look up in shock, expecting to see low stone ceilings only to be surprised by the gray bellies of clouds infinitely far above him. In time, he supposed he'd forget.
What happened? Why is Frank on a planet where it rains, rather than in an underground city? Who knows? Who cares?
Moving along ...
Drabble (100 words). Same rules as above. 20th song, 5th line of lyrics. Once again, lyrics can be altered slightly if necessary.
And nobody wants to show you how (Corey Hart, Never Surrender)
"And while nobody wants to show you how to shoot a gun more than I do, Meg, I don't think it's necessary." Frank lifted the short hair on the nape of her neck, blew gently to watch the fine curls ripple. "I'll always be here to protect you."
Sometimes she trusted him when he said that, loved him for it. And sometimes she felt the walls of a prison closing around her.
"I'd still rather have a gun."
He shrugged, one slim white shoulder sliding beneath the strap of his evening gown. "Have it your way."
Drabble again. 30th song, 8th line -- this time, the lyric has to end the story.
All the pain you’ve ever felt (Shadows of the Night, Pat Benatar)
Most of the time, it was easy to be married to Linton. Sarah knew he didn't love her, knew all they had was a computer match, a marriage of convenience. She knew that a dead woman held his heart. And, most of the time, she could accept that.
And then there were the other times -- the times she crouched on a cold floor and screamed quietly into her hands in the kitchen, while he lay sleeping in bed a door away, a world away.
At those times he embodied, in her mind, all the pain she'd ever felt.
I always wanted to do something more with Linton's dead wife. At this point, all we really know is that they didn't love each other and she killed herself. I always imagined them both as living these horribly lonely, isolated existences, but whereas Linton likes routine, hates change and is actually sort of happy with his life, Sarah is going quietly nuts and finally just gets to the point were she can't take it anymore.
I'm not, however, making a whole lot of headway on Hunter's Moon.
But I can try to convince myself that buying all these songs on iTunes counts as a business expense! (Hey ... it could.)