Sometimes I Do Write Things!
1. Go to page 77* (or 7) of your current manuscript.
2. Go to line 7
3. Copy down the next 7 lines - sentences or paragraphs - and post them as they’re written.
4. Encourage other people to do it!
From a short story I finished this summer, now very very slowly revising.
Alex bites his lip. It isn’t impossible that the man he thought he saw ducked out of view before Lauren could catch a glimpse of him. Not impossible.
“Nah,” he says. “Thought I saw something out my window, that’s all. Probably staring at my computer for too long, you know?”
Lauren nods slowly. “Well, I’ll keep a look-out for anything weird,” she says. “Excepting you, of course.”
Back inside his apartment, Alex double-checks the locks on his window and the chain and deadbolt on the front door, and after some thought, wedges a chair underneath the door handle for good measure. He isn’t sure how much good it would do, but it makes him feel a little better. He still twitches at every sound the shifting plaster makes in the wall, every bone-grating scrape of tire treads in the parking lot, until he falls exhausted into sleep.
This entry was originally posted at http://masterofmidgets.dreamwidth.org/267607.html. You can also comment there using OpenID.
2. Go to line 7
3. Copy down the next 7 lines - sentences or paragraphs - and post them as they’re written.
4. Encourage other people to do it!
From a short story I finished this summer, now very very slowly revising.
Alex bites his lip. It isn’t impossible that the man he thought he saw ducked out of view before Lauren could catch a glimpse of him. Not impossible.
“Nah,” he says. “Thought I saw something out my window, that’s all. Probably staring at my computer for too long, you know?”
Lauren nods slowly. “Well, I’ll keep a look-out for anything weird,” she says. “Excepting you, of course.”
Back inside his apartment, Alex double-checks the locks on his window and the chain and deadbolt on the front door, and after some thought, wedges a chair underneath the door handle for good measure. He isn’t sure how much good it would do, but it makes him feel a little better. He still twitches at every sound the shifting plaster makes in the wall, every bone-grating scrape of tire treads in the parking lot, until he falls exhausted into sleep.
This entry was originally posted at http://masterofmidgets.dreamwidth.org/267607.html. You can also comment there using OpenID.