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Is the phrase "Once upon a time..."
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Monthly Writing Prompt
For this month's writing prompt write a scene using the following sentence to start;

The streets were deserted. Where was everyone? Where had they all gone?

Writing Tip
Our monthly writing tips are written by our very own TerishD. You can read more in Terish's Blog located in "The Abstractions" area of the forum.

Look Back

When not able to write ahead, it helps to look back. In my case I had written a paragraph ahead of the story. What I needed to do was add a section of exposition (talking) presenting some facts. In going back, I realized that I could insert a section where a 'tour' of the surroundings could be done. This allowed for character interaction, story development, and other things that enabled me to present the facts in an entertaining manner.

One should not face a writer's block with the mentality of bursting through it. I have found in my own experience that a writer's block is usually due to my mind indicating that it has a problem in 'channeling' the story. One reason might be a re-imagining of certain story points. Another reason however is that there is a problem in where you are at in the story, so you need to look back and find out the problem with the 'journey' that prevents the tale from advancing.

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 lady in red

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Number of posts : 2304
Age : 79
Location : portugal
Current Mood :
Registration date : 2008-08-13

PostSubject: lady in red   November 3rd 2015, 5:46 pm

A Lady in Red
The road leading to the main lane is a sight black and shiny
with white stripes on each side, it was resurfaced not for us
locals, but for a golf course in a grove of a thousand olive
trees sacrificed as a sport for infantile men in clown slacks
The day was mild and dark clouds hung around like rugby
players fretting, the other team was late, ready to insult
passers-by and I thought of the petulant title of a book:
” God is not great”, a boy defying everyone, but whistles
in the dark. My road ended at the lane going to Benafim
where a woman in a red dress stood with a unlit cigarette
in her left hand and I noticed her long fingernails were
Phosphor green, she asked for a lighter, said I don`t smoke
trying not to be pompous about it.
She called me a self-absorbed man this angered me much
I pushed her onto the main road where she was hit by
a sport-car, - also red- she and the car disappeared yonder.
From the principal lane, I could see my Sahara a breeze came
carried me like I should be a fall leaf down to the plain and
I was no longer alone, but then the rain came like a dense wall
a ruin appeared it had a wide covered entrance but no roof,
sought shelter. Blood of millions of ant I had trampled on in
my search for beauty was washed away and my feet was clean
and scented as cardinal`s shanks ready for the pope`s ritual.
In ionized shimmer, I saw her again, dressed in red and she is
called, lady poetry.
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