Greetings Earthlings!
We have survived yet another steamy week.
How go things? Are the words flowing? Are pics showing up begging to be made into graphics?
If not, that's alright. We still some month left, and you got this. You are a word/graphic warrior.
Onto this week's quote.
"The great art of writing is knowing when to stop."
Unknown
If this doesn't inspire, then feel free to use this one.
"A person with a new idea is a crank until the idea succeeds."
Mark Twain
Do with them what you will. Maybe they'll inspire something for the Pool Party Challenge, which is this month's challenge.
Anyway, have fun and enjoy the weekend.
We have survived yet another steamy week.
How go things? Are the words flowing? Are pics showing up begging to be made into graphics?
If not, that's alright. We still some month left, and you got this. You are a word/graphic warrior.
Onto this week's quote.
"The great art of writing is knowing when to stop."
Unknown
If this doesn't inspire, then feel free to use this one.
"A person with a new idea is a crank until the idea succeeds."
Mark Twain
Do with them what you will. Maybe they'll inspire something for the Pool Party Challenge, which is this month's challenge.
Anyway, have fun and enjoy the weekend.
Profile
1_million_words- One Million Words
Comments
Here's the appropriate snippet. No warnings necessary, and because it is part of my yahoo RP group, it includes Curt Wild from Velvet Goldmine, Gabriel from the film Gabriel (with Andy Whitfield), the stranger from The Passing on the Third Floor Back, and some misc characters:
A purple and black convertible, meaning one of the Wilds pulled down the side drive from the direction of Rose Hall and stopped before reaching the porch steps, its still running engine suggesting that the driver would be leaving shortly. Malcolm, Vitaly and Kai were squeezed into the back seat, but the front passenger seat was empty. Curt leaned on the horn in summons to someone, and then he hopped impatiently out as if not eager to wait for whomever they had come to retrieve. He wore swim trunks and an open buttoned gauzy shirt likely to come off as soon as they reached what appeared likely to be a beach destination. His swift approach abruptly halted as he locked eyes with the visitor.
“Awww…shit…” he said.
Behind him, Kai reached over the seats, cranked on the air conditioner, and pressed the button that raised the convertible roof of the car over Vitaly’s protests of “But it’s not hot!”
“Good morning, Mr. Wild.”
“You know each other?” Gabriel asked.
“Not really…”
“Uh…no…” Curt grunted hastily. He didn’t know the man…but he knew the face, a face Tamara was particularly enamored with though had never cloned. Maybe she finally had, some order placed before her disappearance…or maybe like so many other Tigh Ard residents, the fellow had been drawn here by whatever it was in Tamara that pulled clones, pulled Power, to the House.
For there was definitely Power here. Power very much like…
Gabriel’s.
“Shit,” he muttered again. The great art of speaking was knowing when to stop. In Curt’s case, it should have been knowing when to start. But the words felt stuck, corked behind his befuddlement. Another one. Weren’t there enough in Tigh Ard…in Havensport…already.