Writing Software

What is your preferred writing software?

I use Word because I am familiar with the program. 

I lucked into a Word template for formatting my novels early in my writing career and I am able to effectively use the template to format my work. There are also a number of instructional videos and guides available if I am stuck on a formatting issue so I can learn how to fix problems myself.

I know there are other writing programs, but the cost of the software and the sharp learning curve necessary to use the program effectively makes it difficult for me to buy into the program.

What software do you use?

Why is this your preferred software?

Can you write?

Read the entire post and think for a few minutes before you comment. 

Can you write?

Probably not.

There are so many reasons why you can't write: Time, skill set, writer's block, anxiety.

Should you write:

Emphatically: YES!

Writing is not about doing it right, it's about doing it.

You don't have to write the Great American Novel.

It's about expressing your thoughts on paper.

Write for yourself

Keep a journal

Create a blog

Write in forums

Write in a notebook

Write on napkins

Write on scraps of paper

Write letters to your loved ones

Write because you should and eventually you will write because you can.

Why do you write?

Why do you write?
I write to release the thoughts in my head.
Sometimes the stories spring from the darkest part of my soul.
sometimes they bubble forth out of joy..
Like a pensive, I drag the thoughts from my head and allow them to swirl out on to paper.
I write for myself.
It helps writing for myself.
I don't worry about critics.
I accept critique.
I am willing to grow and change, because it makes my voice stronger, but it will always be my voice.
I've learned I can't write for other people.
I lose my voice when I worry about what others will think of my writing. My stories suffer and I end up dancing around words I'm afraid to write down.
The words stay in my head for far to long when I worry about what others will think of me.
I write for myself.
Why do you write?

Writing Prompt: Death Scenes

End of Days: Write a death scene.

From Hunter: Chronicles of the Soul Eaters

MY SCREAM ECHOED OFF the rocks and came back to us in a hollow mockery of my rage. The creature turned and bounded towards me, scattering sand and rock in every direction. I held up my hands to deflect his charge, pushing energy from my core directly into is path. It closed within ten yards of me, moving so fast it was almost a blur. When it hit the energy barrier erected in front of me its body contracted and it fell to the ground, writhing against my restraining force.

I held the monster there, under the weight of my energy, not allowing it to rise from the ground. The rasp of a sword being drawn pulled my attention to the Warrior. For a moment my attention wavered from the creature and I could feel it struggling against its bonds. With a quick thrust of my mind I forced the monster back to the ground.

“Wait,” I said a I held up one hand to restrain the Warrior.

Drakon studied me for a moment, his sword in the ready position to lash out and separate the monster’s head from its neck.

“Would you allow this monster to live?” the question echoed within the vaults of my mind. I couldn’t turn and face the Warrior. My focus needed to stay on the monster at my feet. I didn’t know how to convey my thoughts directly to his head. The monster pushed against the energy barrier, struggling against my restraints. Shaking my head, I took a step towards the creature.

“No,” I said, surprised at how steady my voice sounded. “I will let you kill the creature, but I need to know its secrets.”

Reaching forward, I placed my hand on the monster’s chest. It recoiled from my touch, but not before I caught a glimpse of its mind. Hunger. Deep abiding hunger overwhelmed my senses. My belly was full so I knew it wasn’t my hunger. The creature’s entire being was consumed with the need to feed. Placing my knee on its chest, I pinned the monster to the ground and grabbed its head between my hands. It flinched away from my touch and struggled under me for a moment. I twisted my fingers through its hair and grabbed handfuls of it in my fists, twisting until its face twisted in pain.

I studied the creature’s angular face, looking for the mark of evil I knew had to be there. These monsters fed on the souls of innocents. There had to be some indication of their evil deeds. I wanted to find the mark delineating this monster from the humanity of the world.

The creature bared its teeth and offered me a deep, primal growl. Its teeth flashed white in the moonlight. I studied its face, looking for any strange mark. Pale skin, dark eyes, skinny, wiry. I could feel its muscles contracting as it tried to force my restraining energy away. Forcing my knee deep into its chest, I forced the creature to hold still. My energy pinned it to the ground and restricted even its most feeble attempts at movement. The creature seemed to be a pale version of a human. Its skin was nearly translucent. Where its cheeks and lips should have been pink from the flow of red blood through its capillaries, they were so white I doubted if it had any blood flow at all. It stared up at me through golden brown eyes so light all I could really see was the black pupil and the black rim surrounding the iris.

A strange gurgling sound echoed from the depths of the creature’s throat. I suddenly realized the monster was laughing at me. It ceased its struggles and stared at me with its pale eyes.

“Kill me then, Hunter,” it said. “You may slay this body, but I will never die. I will take possession of your soul and live forever in you.”

I nearly released my hold on the creature. A shudder flowed through my body at the thought of this evil taking up residence in my body. The memory of the monster crouched over the body of the hapless hiker blurred in my mind and was replaced by the sudden image of me in my priestly garb pinning down the girl and giving her the Devil’s Kiss.

I shook off the image and refocused on the monster. The Devil’s Kiss. I had never heard the term before. At least I don’t remember hearing the term. I knew what it was though. I had seen the other monster perform it. Had seen the life-force being drained from its victim. I remember even feeling it one time when we were locked in battle. I lowered my face close to this monster’s, piercing it to the ground with my gaze.

“You are mine to control,” I said. “No more will you cause harm to others. Even in death I will control your every action. Your life is forfeit. Your soul will be trapped and will never be reborn.  Just as you consumed others, I will consume you.”

The monster gasped as I lowered my mouth over its. I felt it release itself into me, relinquishing control of the energy it had just consumed. The girl’s spirit flowed through me, grasping at her salvation. I lifted my face off the creature’s and opened my mouth wide, allowing the girl’s spirit t flow into the universe where it belonged.

The creature lay, gasping, where I had it pinned to the ground. Its body had taken on a wizen look, shrinking into itself. I finally noticed the creature was male, but even this piece of information did not allow me to see any humanity in its form. It was all monster. All destruction. All death.

I stood, releasing the creature from my physical restraints but still keeping it pinned with my energy. The rasp of a sword being drawn from a sheath shattered the night. With one smooth motion the Warrior separated the monster’s head from its body. I watched as its body crumpled to dust and scattered in the wind.

A bright, blue ball of energy arose from the remains of the creature. It hovered for a moment, quivering in the air before flying towards me. My entire body tingled as the energy washed over me and settled into my muscles. A bitter, coppery taste flooded my mouth but the contents of my stomach stayed put. I swallowed away the taste and turned to the Warrior. He had put away his sword and was standing at the edge of the drop off, gazing down at the body below.

Spell

Write a witch’s spell.

Create a scene in which a witch castes a spell.
How do we know the spell works?

Writing Prompt

Use the image to create a short piece of fiction.

Post your story.
Feel free to give feedback on other stories..
Feedback:

Say what you liked about the story.

Say what needs to be improved about the story.

Be specific in your feedback.

No general comments like: It's good or this story needs improvement. Let the author know specifically what you liked or didn't like.

At the end of your hour, post something you would like to promote.

You can post either a short story or an excerpt from a current WIP.

What is life?

As the creators of worlds you need to be able to determine the definition of life.
What are the criteria for something to be alive and of value?

Tell your Writing Story

Today I would like you to reflect on your journey as a writer. When did you decide you wanted to write?

I told stories for as long as I could remember.

When I was 11 my family (Mom, Dad, 7 kids.) moved to the mountains and lived in a two room cabin. No running water, no electricity, no indoor plumbing. All I had was my books, paper and my imagination.

I started on my first book during our family's sojourn at the cabin.

There were about 15 people living in this little ghost town. My brothers and sisters and I would hike through the mountains, fish, camp and just basically lived off the land as much as we could.

I don't think any one of us realized we were living there because we were poor.

There were so many experiences I wouldn't even begin to describe them all.

One of my Favorites:

I was tasked with the chore of getting water. I grabbed the water bucket and stepped out of the door. Our cabin was on one side of the road. the creek was on the other side. We had to hike down the side of our mountain to the creek. On the other side of the creek was the slope of another mountain.

I looked to my right and saw a huge six point Buck staring at me from the other side of the creek.

Our eyes locked and we just stared at each other, me this scrawny little 80 lb girl, it this huge, graceful, soulful creature.

It was my moment of communion with God.

It lasted a moment. And it lasted a lifetime.

Our family lived there for a year and a half.

This experience became the foundation of me becoming a writer.

For the Love of Money

If the world governments were to suddenly collapse how would humanity survive? How would they obtain necessary supplies? Would humanity create a new monetary system or would it rely on a barter system?

Write a scene where a character needs to obtain some goods.
How would the character manage this?

What are your thoughts on the rules of writing?

This is my take on the rules of writing: Learn the rules, internalize the concepts, study practice and live by the rules, until it is time to write something and then throw the rules OUT the window. Pretend you never learned them. Write what you want to write. Break the rules. The story needs to spill out of you. As you write the important rules will stick with you and then your story will be purely your voice and enough of the rules or writing will stick with you to allow you to create a quality piece, but you have to learn and internalize the rules first.

Writing Prompt: Starting the story.

How do you start your story?

Heat seemed to press down on her from all sides, making it difficult to breathe.  A flash of sunlight reflected off the glass front of the building, blinding Savanna momentarily.  Walking into the waiting room of the clinic, she was confronted by a mass of men, women and children crowded in the tiny space.  Dark faces with striking brown eyes stared at her from all corners of the room.  The few members of the clinic staff Savanna could see all slouched with signs of exhaustion.  A nurse sat at the front desk studying a chart, a medical mask covering the lower half of her face.  It took a few moments for her dark eyes to settle on Savanna. 

“Can I help you?” she asked.

“I’m Dr. Taylor, University Hospital sent me.”  Savanna recognized the look in the nurse’s eyes when she identified herself.  She knew she did not look like a doctor.  Although she was nearly six feet tall, her fair skin and pale blonde hair made her look much younger than she was.  Graduating from high school when she was twelve and medical school at nineteen didn’t help convince people either.
From Echoes of Savanna
https://www.amazon.com/dp/B006RM66QM

Share your story starts here!