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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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 my quiet uncle

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Number of posts : 2308
Age : 79
Location : portugal
Current Mood :
Registration date : 2008-08-13

PostSubject: my quiet uncle   April 29th 2016, 6:10 am

My quit Uncle†
The room in the attic had a bed, bare commode floorboards on which dust
†danced as sun rays light came from a loft window.†
The murmur stopped the room waited for my next move; I looked around nothing
†here to bother about and closed the door.†
My uncle lived here, he only left his room and came down for his meals,†
when he didnít vanish for weeks ďThe Drink, the mother said.†
One day he didnít return, mother, went to the police and reported him missing
, after that no one mentioned him again.
I was selling the house and looked around for something of worth
I saw on the bookshelf a small book, poetry written by him; odd no one†
had told me that. †A man had written of the wonders he had seen,
†landscape and seascape coloured by his mind, the forgotten had sprung
†back to live.
I sat on his bed and read, till daylight faded and it was night, looked out of†
the window and saw what he had seen, the beauty and his loneliness. † † † †
The room was silent now it didnít need to sing, or whisper its sorrow.†
I had heard his song and will carry his voice into the future.
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