challenges

Writing Challenge: Day Eight (Plus Awesome Screenwriting Links!)

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Before we get to the challenge, I thought I’d share some super-helpful links for budding screenwriters. If you’ve always dreamed of writing a screenplay or teleplay but didn’t know where to start, these are the links for you. They will give you all the info you need, laid out in simple, easy-to-understand instructions. You’ll come away from these websites knowing all the terminology and formatting rules you need to get started writing your very own script.

This first website has numerous sections, based on what type of script you’d like to write (e.g. movie script, tv episode, etc). This is where you learn all the most basic elements and how to use them on the page:

http://www.scriptfrenzy.org/eng/howtoguides

Once you’ve mastered the bare bones, go to this website for slightly more advanced info about how each page of your script should look, and what to do in special situations, like when a character’s dialogue runs over onto the next page, or how a complicated action should be conveyed:

http://www.simplyscripts.com/WR_format.html

Both of these sites have great, detailed examples. Once you’ve gotten the hang of writing for the screen, another important thing to do is look at examples of actual scripts that are similar to the one you’re working on. These are plentiful on the Internet, and easy to find thanks to Google. If you’re writing an action film, try to track down scripts of other action movies. If you’re writing an episode of Supernatural, hunt down some bona fide Supernatural scripts and be sure to model your teleplay after the style and format used by the show’s writers. This is really important for spec scripts, because every show has its formatting quirks.

A few final notes about screenwriting:

1.) Re: Fonts: Courier and Courier New are NOT the same. Use Courier.

2.) Re: The Art of Screenwriting: If you’re a fiction writer, like me, the transition to writing scripts can be a little bit bumpy. It’s a very different artform, and to be honest I didn’t like it that much at first. I thought it was “clunky” and lacked the artistry of short stories and novels. Then someone mentioned to me that a script isn’t the final product. Short stories and novels, once sufficiently edited, are ready to go out and meet the world. The reader of a short story or novel experiences the words exactly as they are written on the page. With scripts, this is not true. Scripts are a blueprint – a guide that will help literally hundreds of other people, including actors, directors, make-up artists, special effects people, and cameramen, all collaborate to create the final version: the version the audience sees on screen. When I started looking at things this way, I fell in love with the idea of being a part of such an amazing group effort, and I fell in love with the art of script writing. I hope you will, too.

And now, on to Day Eight of the Writing Challenge, which is the last of these challenges I’ll be posting (unless I manage to dig up the old notebook where I wrote Day Four).

Author’s Note: This is a not-for-profit work of fiction. No offense or infringement is intended. Please don’t sue me.

Day 8: Rewrite a fairy tale from the bad guy’s point of view.

It’s been done before, and it’s been done better, but I still couldn’t help myself. I give you:

 

The Big Bad Wolf: A Barbara Walters Exclusive
by Gretchen Bassier

Announcer:  It was the story that shocked the nation: A senior citizen, eaten alive. A beautiful young woman, viciously attacked. A very big, very bad wolf.

Since his 1998 conviction, Mr. Wolf has refused to speak publicly about his alleged crimes. But tonight, in an exclusive Barbara Walters interview, we take you inside Sing Sing for a live chat with the big baddie himself.

Barbara, what are your thoughts right now, as you wait for the guards to bring him in?

Barbara:  It’s hard to say what my thoughts are, Steve, but my heart is racing. I’m sitting here in front of bulletproof glass – looking at what appears to be a large dog kennel – while holding a panic button in my hand.

Announcer:  So, not a standard interview, then?

Barbara:  Not by a long stretch, Steve.

Guard #1:  Ms. Walters? They’re going to be bringing him in, now.

Barbara:  All right.

Guard #2:  Get in there, you! Go on! Crate. Crate! Okay, now sit and stay. STAY!

Barbara:  Will he be able to talk, with that muzzle on?

Guard #1:  We’ll take the muzzle off, as soon as he’s shackled. See? Now Mike’s going to secure the cage door…Those are titanium bars, by the way, so you should be perfectly safe. Theoretically.

Barbara:  That’s reassuring…

Guard #2:  Okay, we’re good. Just remember, if you feel threatened at any time, all you have to do is press the button. We’ll be right outside.

Barbara:  Thank you.

Guard #1:  We’ll also be listening for distress noises, in case you don’t get a chance to press the button.

Barbara:  …

Guard #2:  Good luck!

Barbara (to camera):  …All right, if you’re just joining us, we are sitting here live inside of Sing Sing prison, where Mr. Wolf is currently serving a life sentence for crimes almost too heinous to mention. Now, for the first time ever, Mr. Wolf is reaching out to the media, hoping to tell his side of the story.

Barbara (to wolf):  Good evening, Mr. Wolf.

Wolf:  Good evening, Barbara.

Barbara:  Can you hear me all right, behind all that glass?

Wolf:  I can hear you very well. I can see you even better.

Barbara:  That’s good. Now, Mr. Wolf—

Wolf:  You can call me B.B.

Barbara:  All right, B.B. Since you brought it up, do you feel that your parents giving you the name “Big Bad” predisposed you to a life of crime?

Wolf:  That’s a common misconception, Barbara. I was actually named after B.B. King. My parents were huge blues fans. And, as to my “life of crime”…why don’t we leave it up to the audience to decide whether or not I’m actually a criminal, once they’ve heard my story?

Barbara:  Then let’s cut right to the chase: B.B., you were convicted of cannibalizing an elderly woman.

Wolf:  That charge is ridiculous.

Barbara:  But human remains were found in your digestive system, shortly after your arrest…

Wolf:  Yes. Exactly – human remains. I’m a wolf, she was a person. That’s not cannibalism. That’s one species eating a completely different species. If I ate another wolf, then it would be cannibalism.

Barbara:  So…you’re not denying you ate Mrs. Hood?

Wolf:  I’ve never denied that.

Barbara:  Then what is it you wanted to tell our audience tonight?

Wolf:  That it wasn’t my idea. It wasn’t something I set out to do. I mean, why would I want to eat an old lady?

Barbara:  Well, you are a carnivore…

Wolf:  I’m also an excellent hunter. When I want a snack, all I have to do is hop a fence, corner a nice juicy lamb, and tie on a bib. So, why eat an old person? They’re boney. Their skin is like leather. They smell like formaldehyde…Does that sound like five-star cuisine to you?

Barbara:  Then why did you do it?

Wolf:  For Red.

Barbara:  Little Red Riding Hood?

Wolf:  Yes.

Barbara:  The victim’s granddaughter?

Wolf:  Yes. Although to hear her tell it, she was the victim. At least that’s the story Red hooked me with, when she asked me to do the job.

Barbara:  She asked you to kill her own grandmother?

Wolf:  Absolutely. It happened the very first day we met. I was just lifting my leg, minding my own business while preparing to, well, do my business, when all of a sudden this hot little red-head number comes skipping through the trees.

I thought she would run the moment she caught sight of me, but she didn’t. Instead, she walked right up to me – smiling, batting her big doe eyes, swinging her hips in that four-inch mini-skirt.

“Oh, Mr. Wolf,” she said, “I have been looking all over for you…”

Naturally, I was taken aback. “Aren’t you afraid of me?” I asked.

She shook her head, making that red hair flicker like fire. “I want your help,” she said. “I need your help.” Then she walked a circle around me, running her fingers right through my fur.

Now, I could’ve killed her right then and there. But I was curious. And a little impressed. So I said, “What in your life is so bad, that you’re not afraid of a big wolf like me?”

And that’s when she started to cry – big, fat teardrops rolling out of her eyes, ruby lips all quivering. “It’s my Nana,” she whimpered. “She’s wicked.”

Barbara:  Wicked?

Wolf:  That’s right. Red went on to give me a whole sob story about how her witch of a grandmother got mad because Red apparently ate some candy in the house that was just meant for decoration. Granny got so peeved, in fact, that she tried to shove Red in the oven and cook her for dinner. Now that would have been cannibalism. But somehow, Red escaped. She told me she ran away and had been hiding in the woods, cold and scared and too afraid to go home until someone did something about her grandma.

“Now, I’m just a little girl,” Red said. “I’m not strong enough to fight her off. But you, Mr. Wolf…you have such big teeth. And such strong paws. I just know you could help me.” Then she ran her fingers through my fur again, and pressed her cleavage right against my shoulder and yes, I admit it, I was affected. But I don’t do charity work.

So I said, “What’s in it for me?”

Red explained that she had an inheritance from when her parents died, but she couldn’t access the money while Grandma was still alive.

“If you help me, we can split it,” she promised. “One-point-three million each.”

From my point of view, it seemed like a win-win situation: Red would be safe, a mean old lady would be kibble. Not to mention, one-point-three million dollars buys a LOT of steak…

Barbara:  So you agreed?

Wolf:  I did. Red gave me directions to her grandmother’s house – “It’s just over the river and through the woods” – then she told me to wait until after dark. When I showed up at the cottage that night, Red was hiding in the bushes. She gave me the key and wished me luck…

Barbara:  Then you went inside and…

Wolf: Ate Nana. Like I said, not exactly five-star cuisine. I was actually still trying to wash her down with some milk when Red came running in, yelling that she’d seen the Huntsman riding up the path to the cottage.

Barbara:  The Huntsman?

Wolf:  Yes. It’s a nickname Sheriff Smith gave himself. He makes everyone call him that. It’s pretty stupid, actually, but no one wants to tell him because he’s always carrying a gun. And sometimes an axe…

Barbara:  You’ve had some experience with that axe yourself, haven’t you?

Wolf:  Most unfortunately. But that’s skipping ahead. So first, Red ran in, yelling that the Huntsman was coming. Naturally, I freaked. I had just eaten a human being, not to mention I already had three warrants out for my arrest for destruction of property and home invasion – completely fabricated, but we’ll get to that later – so I asked Red to help me sneak out the back.

“There’s no time!” she hissed. “You’ll have to pretend to be Nana!” Then she threw her grandmother’s pink nightie at me and told me to put it on.

Barbara:  Did you?

Wolf:  I am sad to say, yes. I was desperate. Of course, as soon as I caught sight of myself in the bedroom mirror, I knew it wasn’t going to work – sure, Nana had a few whiskers, but she wasn’t Lon Chaney, Jr. And those glasses made my eyes look huge. But Red insisted that if I got in the bed and pulled up the covers, the Huntsman would never know. So I pulled the blanket right up to my chin, and Red ran out of the room.

For about five minutes, I lay there, terrified, trying to make old lady breathing noises.

Then all hell broke loose: the Huntsman burst through the door like a crazed axe murderer, and Red rushed in right behind him, all tearful and earnest.

She pointed right at me and said, “That’s him, Sheriff – that’s the wolf that ate Nana. And he tried to eat me, too!”

Barbara:  Were you shocked?

Wolf:  Speechless. I didn’t even have time to throw the covers off before the Huntsman was on top of me, chopping into me like some psychopath! Just LOOK at these scars! These are NOT from an appendectomy!

Barbara:  According to his testimony, the Sheriff was trying to save Mrs. Hood’s life by removing her from your stomach.

Wolf:  Does that even make sense? Think about it! I had to chew her before I swallowed her – how would she still be alive? Not to mention the fact that she was already partially digested…

Barbara:  Yes, let’s not mention that…

Wolf:  Anyway, I lost consciousness at some point while he was hacking into me. I woke up later in the hospital. They aren’t even sure how I survived. I guess once Huntsboy realized he wasn’t getting granny out in one piece, he came to his senses and called nine-one-one. After all, a Sheriff axing an unarmed suspect to death might lead to a few problems for the police department…

Barbara:  You believe he called the ambulance to protect himself from a lawsuit?

Wolf:  Absolutely.

Barbara:  He couldn’t have done it out of the goodness of his heart?

Wolf:  The Huntsman’s not the upstanding member of society most people think he is. He’s got darkness in him. Wanna know what really happened to Bambi’s Mom?

Barbara:  Probably not.

Wolf:  Good choice. That story gives me nightmares…

Barbara:  Getting back to your story, B.B…

Wolf:  Well, you know how it ends, Barbara – after the hospital, I went to jail, and then I went on trial. You should’ve seen Red in the courtroom: the cute little hooded sweater she wore, the basket of muffins she brought the judge, those big brown eyes…and of course, the waterworks. Always the waterworks. I knew I didn’t have a prayer. I was lucky to get life in prison…

Barbara:  So she duped you, and the Sheriff, and the judge?

Wolf:  She is something. From the moment she ran her fingers through my fur, I knew she was something…

Barbara:  Do you still believe her Grandmother abused her?

Wolf:  No, Red stole that story from an old newspaper article. Turns out it actually happened to some German kids back in the 1800s – Hans and Greta, or something like that…Anyway, that’s my story.

Barbara:  Shocking.

Wolf:  It’s not exactly a fairytale, that’s for sure.

Barbara:  Do you feel better, now that you’ve told your side?

Wolf:  A little.

Barbara:  Before we go, is there anything else you’d like to clear up? You did mention those destruction of property and home invasion charges…

Wolf:  I’ve said it once, I’ve said it a thousand times: I HAVE ALLERGIES!

 

Writing Challenge: Day Six (Plus Twenty-Five Reasons You Might Get Rejected)

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Before rewinding back to Day Six of the challenge, I thought I’d share a nifty article I came across on the Writer’s Digest website, which discusses how optimism, insanity, and yes, even a little arrogance can be good things when tackling the difficult task of getting published. Also, there’s a hilariously accurate pie chart detailing the road to publication, and both of those can be found here:

http://www.writersdigest.com/editor-blogs/guide-to-literary-agents/the-importance-of-being-slightly-arrogant-as-a-writer?et_mid=596701&rid=233787571

In addition, I found a helpful link on the Flash Fiction Chronicles site, which contains a list of twenty-five reasons an agent might reject your manuscript – often after only reading the first paragraph. The list has some really interesting items that you might not think of, so definitely go check it out:

http://bloodredpencil.blogspot.com/2010/09/sept-2-top-25-reasons-your-submissions.html

Also, coming up in the New Year on as the HERO flies:

For Writers:

-The very best websites for beginning screenwriters
-Awesome flash fiction market resources
-My favorite fiction e-zines

For Fans:

-New Mentalist fan fiction
-New Supernatural fan fiction
-New episode reviews

Moving on to the writing challenge, I give you Day 6: Select a book on your shelf and pick two chapters at random. Take the first line of one chapter and the last line of the other chapter and write a short story (no more than 1000 words) using those as bookends to your story.

The book I selected was Ghosts Caught on Film by Dr. Melvyn Willin. I used the first line of Chapter Two, and the last line of Chapter Five (which, although I didn’t realize it at the time, turned out to be the very last line of the book).

Notes and Disclaimer: I don’t own the characters Sherlock Holmes or John Watson, and I make absolutely no profit from writing fan fiction. This story was written in December of 2011, before there was a totally and completely fabulous show called Elementary, and this fic does not take place in that universe (i.e. Watson is not a girl in this story).

Elementary
by castiello

“Can we photograph thoughts, the very pictures in our minds?”

Watson looked up from the bit of fiber he was studying. Holmes was over by the wall, gazing at a dreary oil painting of a cobble-stone street.

Watson sighed. “Not likely. ‘Thoughtography’ has no basis in science, Holmes. Scholars have disproven nearly every claim. We’ve even disproven a few ourselves, over the years. Remember?”

“Ah, yes,” Holmes murmured absently. “Of course.”

Watson went back to examining the fiber, which appeared to be silk. “What brought it to your mind, anyhow?”

“Oh, it just fluttered in, like a small bird…perhaps through that window—” Holmes pointed a withered finger at the painting “—Or maybe through…another…” His voice trailed off, cataract-dull eyes wandering vaguely.

“Maybe we should focus on the case at hand,” Watson suggested gently.

Holmes’ eyes fogged over completely. “The case…?”

Watson winced. He’d been trying to persuade his old friend to retire for years. “The one we’re helping Inspector Cartwright with. The Niesen murder.”

Holmes stared blankly.

Watson’s heart twinged. His voice softened. “Why don’t you sit down, old fellow? Have a smoke and ponder things, while I finish looking over the crime scene.”

“What crime scene?” Holmes asked, frowning. His eyes were still foggier than a London morning.

“This room,” Watson replied patiently. “The one we’re standing in.”

More fog.

Watson sighed. “This is the room where the girl was murdered,” he explained, gesturing at the clothing-strewn bedchamber, which bore obvious evidence of a struggle.

The fog evaporated in an instant. “Oh, she wasn’t murdered in here,” Holmes announced confidently.

Watson raised his eyebrows, cautiously hopeful. “How do you know that?”

“There’s not a drop of blood in sight.”

“She was strangled, Holmes.”

“Ah, yes…Just as I suspected…” Holmes nodded knowingly, making his grey mane bounce.

Watson gritted the few teeth he had left. “Why don’t you—” he started to say, but Holmes cut him off with a sudden shout:

“Look here, Watson! A clue!” Holmes began to bend down, presumably to pick something up off the floor, but he froze in mid-stoop. “Oh, dear,” he said faintly.

“What’s wrong?” Watson asked.

“My back – it seems to be locked in this position…”

“You can’t move?”

“Neither up nor down,” Holmes confirmed. “How is it that I could be stuck in such a state?”

“I don’t know,” Watson murmured, hobbling over to help his friend. “It’s a mystery we may never solve.”

Writing Challenge: Day Seven

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I know I’m messing with the order a little bit, but this entry just seemed too perfect for New Year’s Eve. Speaking of which, I hope you all have a wonderful, safe night, and I wish you the best of luck in keeping your resolutions. 🙂

Day 7: Write a letter to yourself telling you what you need to improve in the coming six months.

Dear You,

Hey. How’s it going?

I think it’s going pretty well, but there are always things we could work on. The main thing would be SUBMISSIONS. Every year, you say it’s going to be the “year of submissions.” You’re going to send so many stories to so many different publishers.

Well, so far, the Year of Submissions remains a figment. Submitting 5-6 stories a year (and that’s a MAXIMUM) ain’t gonna cut it. You have to be aggressive, proactive, vigorous in your search for markets. And yes, it takes a lot of energy – researching companies, crafting individualized cover letters, printing and licking and mailing and waiting. And yes, there will be rejections along the way. Lots and lots and LOTS of rejections.

But you know as well as I do (because we’re the same person), that it’s the only way to get published. THE ONLY WAY. Got it?

So, let’s set a new goal for us. In the next six months, let’s aim to get 25 rejections. A nice, reasonable, fairly small number. And maybe, if we’re really lucky, there’ll be an acceptance or two mixed in there somewhere. Sound good?

Oh, and while we’re on the subject of improvements:

More exercise, fewer cookies. Keep in touch with your friends (and family) better than you have been. Get more active in the writing community (read, review, discuss, maybe join a group or two) and don’t stress over every little detail.

You won’t succeed at all of these things, but try your best! See you in six months!

Love,
Me

Writing Challenge: Day Three

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Before I get to the story, just a quick note about my favorite free writer’s market database, Duotrope: starting in the new year, they will no longer be free. They can’t afford to keep running on donations, so they’re going to begin charging for their services on January 1, 2013. It’s a bummer, I know, but the good news is that they haven’t started charging yet. If you haven’t checked out Duotrope before, you’ve still got more than a week to explore their site and see if it might be something worth paying for:

https://duotrope.com/

And now, on to Day 3: Write a setting based on the most beautiful place you’ve ever seen. (Yes, I know I skipped Day 2. I had my reasons – trust me.)

Conversion
by Gretchen Bassier

The sky was rippling.

At first, Kate thought it was a trick of her eyes. She dumped the armload of firewood she was carrying and trotted back down the porch steps to get a better look.

It was no trick – the clear, midnight sky overhead was flickering. Pulsing and shivering with a strange whitish glow. Kate jogged up the steps and knocked on the front door until Annie’s curious face appeared in the crack.

“Slip your boots on,” Kate said hurriedly. “There’s something going on with the sky.”

Annie shoved her feet in a pair of battered Nikes, grabbed one of Kate’s old coats from the hook by the door, and stepped out onto the porch. Together, the two women crunched across frozen grass, stopping in the middle of the lawn to look straight up.

“What do you think it is?” Kate murmured, unable to tear her eyes from the shimmering lightshow.

“It’s the Northern Lights,” Annie answered calmly. “Aurora Borealis.”

Kate frowned. “We shouldn’t be able to see those from here…”

Annie shrugged, her face serene as she soaked in the sky. “It’s rare, but it happens.”

“But…shouldn’t they be in the North? Northern Lights and all?”

Annie laughed. “You’re too literal. This is definitely them – I’ve seen them before. Sometimes they fill the whole sky…”

“When have you seen the Northern Lights before?”

“On that Alaskan cruise I talked my Mom into, after Dad died. There were two nights when we could see the lights really clearly, all across the sky, and reflected in the water, too. It was stunning. Mom said it was God’s fireworks.”

“Nature’s fireworks,” Kate corrected. “It’s just an astronomical phenomenon – clouds of gas hitting the Earth’s magnetic field.”

Annie smiled. “Some Native Americans believed the lights were spirits.”

“Yeah, and they also would’ve believed my iPad was an angry god, if they’d seen the technology back then. It’s only supernatural until you figure out the science behind it. Why settle for magic and superstition when you can understand how something actually works?”

“Oh, I don’t know,” Annie said softly. “Sometimes a little magic can be nice.”

The two women lapsed into silence for a moment, watching milky light flow like a waterfall, up the sides of the sky.

Suddenly, Annie let out a laugh.

The sound carried like a song through the cold midnight air, and Kate smiled. “What is it?”

“Remember that time in Colorado, when Peter had us driving all through the hills, chasing that huge orange light in the sky?”

“The light that he was convinced had to be a UFO?” Kate asked dryly.

Annie nodded, giggling.

“The light that actually turned out to be the moon?”

Annie giggled even harder, holding her belly.

“Yes, I remember.” Kate smirked. “No offense to your brother, but he is exactly why people should never smoke pot while they’re watching The X-Files.”

Annie wiped her eyes and sighed happily. “It was fun, though, wasn’t it?”

“Yeah,” Kate admitted, looking back at the sky. “It was.”

A peaceful quiet settled over them again, like falling snow. All of the light seemed to flow to a single pinpoint of space, a million miles above their heads.

Finally, reluctantly, Kate ripped her gaze from the celestial dance. “Well, I’d better go get the rest of that wood…”

“I’ll get the wood,” Annie said quickly. “You should stay and watch.”

Kate raised an eyebrow. “I thought you’d want to stay and watch.”

A smile touched Annie’s upturned face, like the sky was telling her secrets. “Oh, but I’ve already seen it. And besides, I can always look up, on my way out to the shed.”

“Just as long as you don’t trip,” Kate joked.

Annie looked over at her, eyes sparkling. “I won’t.” She took the handle of the empty wagon and starting pulling it across the crystallized lawn. “Enjoy your ‘astronomical phenomenon,’ Agent Scully.”

Kate grinned. “I will!”

As Annie’s crunching footsteps and the crackle of wagon tires grew distant, Kate watched in fascination as a hint of ghostly green seeped into the white glow all around. Kate smiled, thinking of Slimer in the movie Ghostbusters.

Who you gonna call?

The nostalgic expression froze on her face as the sky began to change again, streaks of bright, electric blue snaking above the horizon to the North, like something was tearing slashes in universe, letting whatever lay beyond shine through.

Kate’s eyes stretched round. “Annie, come back! Annie! You’ve got to see this! It’s…” Her voice trailed off, realizing her companion was already too far away. “It’s incredible…”

The blaze in the North intensified, not just blue now, but ruby and emerald and topaz and indigo. The sky was a rainbow of fire, burning up with its own beauty, tracing mystical patterns across a diamond-star canvas.

Kate stared out through eyelashes beaded with ice-drops. She clenched her hand, wishing Annie’s hand was squeezed tight inside of it. An eternity away and right in front of her, the sky-fire peaked. Kate gasped aloud. Blinding radiance of every color poured through the seams in the heavens, and she stretched her arm toward the sight, reaching for the impossible.

It faded just before she could touch it, but not before the words escaped her, in a whisper of winter smoke:

“Oh, my God…”

Writing Challenge: Day One

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Day 1: Write 10 potential book titles of books you’d like to write.

I really did do this first exercise – honest! – but I also managed to badger my friend, Chris, into doing it with me. And since his list came out a thousand times better than mine, I thought I’d share his titles on here for everyone to enjoy:

10 Potential Titles of Books (and a TV Show) I’d Like to Write
by Christopher Calhoun

10. Hideous Injustice:  Grotesquely Disfigured Superheroes and the Innocent Victims Who Died From the Sight of Their Would-Be Saviors

9. Digital Wallflowers – The Introvert’s Reference for Dealing With a Post-Facebook World

8. The Ticket (A helpdesk intern investigating a mysterious tech support request discovers the person working in the adjacent cubicle may not be who (or what) he seems!  DUN DUN DUN!@!@~)

7. The 21st Century Basement Dweller:  A Geek’s Guide to Underground Bunker Construction

6. It Came From The PC:  Lurid Tales of the Deadly Monsters That Could Be Hiding in Your Computer

5. Surviving the Post-Singularity Robot A.I.-pocalypse

4. When Snack Foods Bite Back (questionable “reality” TV spinoff premiering soon on Fox)

3. 101 Great Nude Stunts (and the Jail Time They’ll Get You)

2. 2012 Naked Runner’s Almanac

1. The Joy of Smoothness(tm)

Hope you had some fun with these! More coming soon!

-Gretchen

Twelve Days of Writing

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Last year, I came across a list of wonderful writing exercises on the Writer’s Digest site. I was in kind of a creative slump at the time, and these really helped me pick up my pen and start generating some new stories. Over the next few weeks, I’ll be sharing some of those stories with you. If you happen to be a writer and are in the mood for a challenge, you might want to give these exercises a try…and feel free to share whatever you come up with!

The 12-Day Plan of Simple Writing Exercises

Day 1:
Write 10 potential book titles of books you’d like to write.

Day 2:
Create a character with personality traits of someone you love, but the physical characteristics of someone you don’t care for.

Day 3:
Write a setting based on the most beautiful place you’ve ever seen.

Day 4:
Write a letter to an agent telling her how wonderful you are.

Day 5:
Write a 20-line poem about a memorable moment in your life.

Day 6:
Select a book on your shelf and pick two chapters at random. Take the first line of one chapter and the last line of the other chapter and write a short story (no more than 1000 words) using those as bookends to your story.

Day 7:
Write a letter to yourself telling you what you need to improve in the coming 6 months.

Day 8:
Rewrite a fairy tale from the bad guy’s point of view.

Day 9:
Turn on your TV. Write down the first line that you hear and write a story based on it.

Day 10:
Go sit in a public place and eavesdrop on a conversation. Turn what you hear into a short love story (no matter how much you have to twist what they say).

Day 11:
Write the acknowledgments page that will be placed in your first (next?) published book, thanking all the people who have helped you along the way.

Day 12:
Gather everything you’ve written over the previous 11 days. Pick your favorite. Edit it, polish it and either try to get it published or post it on the Web to share with the world. Be proud of yourself and your work.