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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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 war and friendship

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Number of posts : 2306
Age : 79
Location : portugal
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Registration date : 2008-08-13

PostSubject: war and friendship   August 2nd 2016, 3:39 am

Friendship and wars
 The generation of today thing they live in a perilous time
I was born before the World War 2 when millions of
civilians were killed and often we went hungry to bed.
Time is always bad there are interludes we remember with
fondness but often they are imagined
All we can do is to keep the peace as long as possible.
I remember the face of the dead child when American troops
invaded Bagdad, for the record it has been invaded and
ransacked before it is only history repeating itself and it is
a laugh when the guilty say they are sorry for what they did
the boy will not be older only his mother remembers him and
the war had the best western intention.
But the white face of the dead boy haunts me like my own death
as the evening draws near I pretend of being the exception.
My best friend Tom was gay and how we laughed and in his company
I was safe, mind he told me to shut up when I got too morbid,
he had the sunshine in his soul while I bore grudges
He was a jobbing actor cancer stole him from me it was a sad day

this Algarvian soil so dry and grey before the rain.
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