Philosopher in Meditation (Rembrandt)

Philosopher in Meditation (Rembrandt)

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Sunday, December 5, 2010

December 5, 2010

Wow, I can't believe a month has already passed. Sorry about the delay. I blame Nano, edits and real life, etc. But here I am with another prompt. Write a scene, chapter, short story, drabble, or flash piece--fiction (any genre) or non-fiction using one or more of the prompts (either literally or as inspiration). No word limit. The prompts come from the NaNoWriMo Take a Plot, Leave a Plot folder. (I found out about it here:

Good luck and have fun.

Here are the prompts:

•start your writing with a description of wet feet
•crumpled clothing

God bless,
with God all things are possible

Thursday, November 11, 2010

November 11, 2010

This prompt came from my Real Writer's Challenge group on Multiply. I don't know who the image belongs to. If anyone knows, I will be glad to give appropriate credit. Please use it only for inspiration purposes. Have fun. :o)

Write a scene, story, chapter, snippet, poem or essay...fiction or non-fiction inspired by this prompt. No word count limit. Please leave a link to your work, if you'd like comments.

Have fun and God bless.
With God all things are possible

Sunday, October 17, 2010

October 17, 2010

Ok, today's prompts came from the tags on teabags (I kid you not, LOL). Use one or all in, or as inspiration for a scene, poem, chapter or short story--any genre. WC 350-2500. Have fun!


* Living in a glass house is a real pane.
* Go getters work their fingers to the bonus.
* A golf ball is a golf ball no matter how you putt it.

Wednesday, October 6, 2010

October 4, 2010 Picture Prompt Threat Disposal (WC 2029)

Here's my take on the picture prompt from October 4, 2010. It's freewrite and I'm not real happy with it, but at least it's something new. Thanks for taking a look.

God bless,
with God all things are possible

Threat Disposal
© Marlicia Fernandez 10-06-10 (WC 2055)

The others wouldn’t be happy with him.

Too bad for them.

They’d had their chance.

If he let them have their way they’d be debating in council chambers for the next fifty aasta. And in the meantime…in the meantime the problem continued, unchecked.

It was unacceptable.

Garon studied the cloud-filled sky. No chance of moon or starlight breaking through that dense wall. Even the swirling mist worked with him. If filled the darkness and surrounded him, concealed him from all but the sharpest of eyes. He grinned within the folds of his hood. But it didn’t interfere with his sight. Not in the least. For him, the night couldn’t be more perfect. Provided it didn’t rain.

Rain meant mud and mud meant footprints. Nothing he couldn’t handle, but a headache he could do without.

He reached for the bow he carried on his back and pulled an arrow from his quiver and a thin rope like line from his belt. “All right, through the window you go,” he murmured. Garon took aim and let the arrow fly. It shot through the slit. “Should have closed it off boys. But it makes my job that much easier.”

Garon pulled the line until it grew taught and his arrow wedged itself sideways against the narrow opening. He tested his weight against it. That should do it. He removed his cloak, to reveal a guard’s uniform, and checked his knives and daggers. All where they should be. Pouches too.

Quickly he removed his bow and quiver, wrapped them all in his cloak and shoved them into the foliage he’d prepared for that purpose earlier. No one would find his weapons until he had the chance to retrieve them.

He yanked on the line again and pulled himself up, hand over hand, without a sound. Voices floated down from the direction of the rampart. Garon froze, trusting the mist and the shadows to hide him. A sliver of moon slipped from behind the cloud cover, its pale light missing him by a hairs-breadth.

“What’re we doin’ out here anyway?” one man complained. “It’s cold an’ damp.”

“Stop your belly aching and do your job, Xeron” a second commanded. “You’ve heard the rumors.”

“Yeah, yeah, Mylkin. Everyone’s heard the rumors. Someone’s gonna snuff out his Lordship.” Xeron laughed. “Like anyone’ll get close enough.”

A sharp crack that sounded suspiciously like a slap scared the bats hanging beneath stone overhangs. Garon covered his head and face with one arm until the frightened creatures passed.

“They won’t,” Mylkin growled. “If we do our job.”

“Just because you got rank don’t me you can hit me.” Xeron whined. “Don’t worry. No one’ll get by us.”

The moon ducked back behind the clouds. Garon grinned and continued his climb. Silently. Hand over hand. I might have something to say about that, gentlemen. But you keep your delusions. I insist.

Garon pressed closed to the cold stone wall and counted first to ten and then to twenty. He pulled himself over the side of the rampart when footsteps and voices no longer carried in the night air. Loudest guards I’ve ever heard. At least there are only two of them on this side. That’s helpful. He should have at least fifteen to twenty minutes before they returned. Plenty of time. The skin on the back of his neck prickled a clear warning. Time to move.

He allowed his line to slacken, twisted it and after two tries, pulled both it, and the arrow, up. He loosed the weapon, coiled the line and hooked it to his belt. The arrow slid into a specially made sheath at his hip, behind his long dagger. He cocked his head. No sound filled the air, not even the hooting of an owl. So far so good.

A salty breeze kicked up from the direction of the sea. Clouds shifted to reveal twinkling stars. Time to get moving. No telling when his luck might change and the full moon appear. Garon crouched and hurried along the low wall until he reached a wooden door. Lock picks slipped into his hands. The door swung open without warning. Swearing under his breath, Garon anticipated its pathway and stayed behind it. Maybe a dozen guards filed onto the rampart.


“Spread out along the wall. Mylkin and Xeron have held the castle long enough. It’s time they had some help.” The men hustled along the wall and the speaker returned to the door, closed and locked it. “Move along. You’re too close. We’re not worried about someone getting up here from inside, you know. Anyone good enough...or stupid enough to get inside the castle will be in for a surprise he won’t soon forget. And if he survives that, interrogation.” The man laughed. “And we all know how our Lordship loves interrogations.”

The men on the rampart laughed and fanned out, apparently to cover the entire six defensive walls. Garon grimaced and adjusted his grip on the wall from which he hung to ease the strain on his muscles. Thought it was too easy. He pulled himself up until he could peek over the wall. No one in sight. He swung himself onto solid footing, slipped into the shadows, waiting.

Shouted reports echoed from every side of the building.

“All clear.”

“Nothing here.”

“Stay alert.”

This could be tricky. But not impossible. Garon’s picks slid from his sleeves into his hands and within seconds the lock released with a soft click and the door opened.

Chills swept over him seconds before rough hands spun him around. “Who are you? What are you doing here? I don’t recognize you.”

Garon’s thin metal ‘keys’ slid back into his sleeves. He straightened his uniform and met the man’s eyes. A sergeant. “Not surprising. I don’t belong to your Lordship. I’m with a friend of his.” He shook free of the sergeant’s hold. “A very important friend. Came up to deliver a message.”

The sergeant’s eyes narrowed. “What message? From who?”

“From my Lordship of course.” Garon snorted. “Who’d you think?”

“Well, are you gonna give it me or not?”

Garon shrugged. “You’ll get it to your captain?”

“I know my job.” The sergeant studied Garon’s uniform and relaxed. “What’s the message?”

“That’s better. Tell your captain rumor has it an attempt will be made on your Lordship’s life this night.”

“Is that all?” The sergeant snorted. “Tell us something we don’t know.”

Garon smiled. “The assassin knows your strengths and weaknesses. He will enter on these very ramparts.”

“Have you looked around?” The sergeant indicated the walkway with a sweep of his hands. “The ramparts are crawling with men.”

“He will succeed.” Garon continued. “I suggest you be alert at all times.”

The sergeant’s face darkened in the moonlight. “You think we don’t know our jobs?”

Garon shrugged. “Just a suggestion, friend. Nothing more.”

Wispy clouds shadowed the moon, drops spattered the stone walkway. The sergeant scowled. “You’ve delivered your message. Why don’t you go back to your Lordship before he leaves you behind?”

“My thoughts exactly.” Garon executed a mock bow and salute. He turned and opened the door, his lock picks sliding into easy reach should he need them. Not the best weapon, but it’ll do in a pinch. “I’ll give your regards to your Lordship.”

The doors swung shut behind him, cutting off the sergeant’s grunt and the sound of hurrying footsteps. Garon bounded down the stairs. That information should keep them busy. Now to find my target.

Garon slowed when he reached the bottom and another door. He cracked it open. Laughter and music wafted from rooms to his left. To his right, two guards stood at attention before what Garon’s research said was his target’s rooms. A little nervous are we?

He grinned. You should be.

Garon slipped through the door and leaned against the wall, well in the shadows between groups of mounted, flickering tapers. What to do? The bold approach appealed most, but he couldn’t risk someone from the party at the other end of the corridor walking in while he dispatched two of the host’s guards. Besides they weren’t his targets.

The two guards spoke for a moment before one saluted, turned and strode down the hall. Garod flattened himself against the wall and held his breath when the man glanced over his shoulder.

“I think I’ll change and look in on the guests before I turn in. You want anything?”

So not two guards to worry about, but one. Good.

The guard on duty grimaced. “If you see your girl’s sister, tell her I really am sorry. Duty and all.”

The off duty soldier nodded. “I’ll tell her,” he said, before hurrying away.

Once the guard was alone, Garol exhaled and stepped into the corridor’s full light. He pulled a dagger from its sheath and put it to the man’s side, as the guard turned, using his own body to hide the action from unexpected visitors. “Open the door.”

“A body’s pretty hard to get rid of,” he murmured.

“I’m very creative.” Garol pressed the blade a little deeper, cutting through the man’s uniform to crease the skin. “We can do this the easy way or the hard way. Which shall it be?”


Garol flipped the blade and drove the hilt up into the guard’s chest. A rush of air exploded from him. Spinning him around, Garol shoved him against the wall and held him there with his forearm. The man’s head bounced off the stone surface. His eyes lost their focus. Garol flipped the knife again and tapped the weapon’s hilt against his captive’s neck. It opened and a small piece of metal popped out to pierce the skin. “Nighty night.”

Consciousness flickered in his eyes to be replaced by vacancy. Garol arranged the drugged guard against the wall in a suitably guard-like position before temporary rigidity set in. “Let’s put your hands at your sides, relaxed but ready, shall we?”


“Good job.” Garol patted the man’s shoulder. “Don’t worry, the effects will wear off in an hour or two. Maybe sooner if your buddy returns with an answer from your heart’s desire.”

Anger flickered in the man’s eyes before disappearing behind an impassive mask. No one should suspect anything was wrong. Garol opened the door and slipped inside. Low lighting gave way to bright illumination. Garol threw his dagger dead on at the man staring at him open-mouthed. “You should have left my queen alone.”

The man flinched. The weapon hit the mark, or would have if it hadn’t bounced off.

Bounced off?

The man smiled. “Good job, Garol. But it’s not the right time for this.”

Garol’s stomach twisted. His mark wasn’t a magician and yet his target, shimmered and pulsed. Could his research be deficient?

“It was not deficient.”

That voice. “Chari?”

The illusion crumbled and the room shifted. The beautiful woman he’d sought to protect stood before him, her crown of office sparkling in the lantern light of familiar council chambers.

“We knew your intent, but it is not yet time.”

He bristled. “So what was all this? How did you do it?”

“I created an illusion.”

I hate it when she does that. Garon’s skin crawled. “Why? Was I being tested?”

“You can think of it that way, if you like. But it wasn’t. Not really.” She motioned to one of her private guards who brought a stack of parchments to Garon. “We know now you can get in… or could if your information were current. That was never in doubt.”

“It is current. I would have killed him if you hadn’t interfered.”

“No, you wouldn’t.”

“With all due respect, highness, you’re wrong.”

“And you’re stubborn.” She sighed and met his gaze. “I too have my sources. You think we move too slow, but our information tells us our enemy is not only NOT at his castle, but that he has made it a trap. A trap for people like you. And he has new guards and magicians to protect him in his new home.”

He grabbed the parchments. “Do we know where he is?”

“We do, but Garon…” She shivered and hugged herself. “If you want to protect me, to protect our kingdom you must protect yourself. You need the information in those parchments. And you’ll need help.”

Monday, October 4, 2010

October 4, 2010

I got this image a long time ago from a writing site I was involved with which is now defunct. The image is not mine, but I will be more than happy to give credit if someone does know the artist. Please only use this image for writing inspiration. :o)

Prompt: Write a scene, freewrite, short story, chapter, poem or essay using this image as
inspiration. Have fun!

Wednesday, September 29, 2010

September 29, 2010

Your challenge, should you choose to accept it :o)... Write a scene, chapter, flash fiction or short story with the prompt below. No word limits. Please let us know where we can read it.

Have fun and God bless.
With God all things are possible

PROMPT:Text Color

"Never start something you can't finish."

The words echoed in the recesses of his mind, the only thing he remembered of his life. They flitted through hovering mists and shadows and bounced off the emptiness, taunting him. Had he started something? Finished it? He needed information. Detailed information. And lots of it. He looked into the mirror hanging in the unfamiliar room and ran his fingers through his unruly dark hair. But for now he'd settle for his name.

Friday, September 24, 2010

September 24, 2010

I got this image from Donna Sundblad's "Pumping Your Muse" Site:
Please use the above prompt as inspiration for flash fiction, poetry or a scene of 500 words or less. Put the story here or post the link so we can read it. :o) Have fun.
God bless,
with God all things are possible

Wednesday, September 22, 2010

September 22, 2010

PROMPT: If I had it all to do over again I would...

Using the prompt above as inspiration, write a scene, chapter, short story, flash fiction, essay, poem or song. The prompt itself does NOT have to appear in the piece. No word count constraints...just let the writing flow. Don't forget to use as many of the senses as possible. God bless and have fun.


Friday, September 10, 2010

September 10, 2010

Hi all. Here's the next prompt. The challenge is to write a scene or flash fiction piece or piece of poetry inspired by this image in 500 words or less. Of course if you use more words that is fine, after all the object is to write :o), but 500 words is the challenge. :o) I look forward to seeing what you come up with for it. I got the image in an e-mail notification from my writing friend, Vinny. It is on her Multiply Site, found here:
Have fun!


Monday, September 6, 2010

The Map Story Starter (from Pumping Your Muse)

I got this prompt from the Pumping Your Muse Site (Thanks Donna)

PROMPT: Pumping Your Muse: Tuesday, August 31, 2010
The Map Story Starter

Today's writing prompt will start out with dialog. Create a conversation between two characters starting with...

"Cap'n, we found this map on them."

Within the scene, add one sound and one odor or aroma.

Have fun!

Here's my take. Freewrite, but fun to write. Thanks for taking a look.

God bless,
with God all things are possible

The Treasure Map
© Marlicia Fernandez (WC 1558) 9-6-10

“Cap’n, we found this map on them.”

Gerald Winston III looked up from his books and pushed his glasses back on his head. “How many times do I have to tell you, we’re not kids anymore, Martin? We’re not even yachtsmen. We’re just here on this cruise, looking for rich wives to take care of us.”

Martin Lawton II skidded to an abrupt stop, inches from the mahogany desk behind which his best friend of over two and a half decades sat, looking decidedly un-pirate like. “You’re never gonna find a rich wife hiding behind someone else’s busywork. You have to be yourself.”

“So says my twenty-five year old baby sister’s ‘best friend’. Gerald pushed his leather swivel chair back, scattering papers everywhere. “How’s campaign Isola going, anyway?”

“Well enough,” Martin sniffed. “Or it would be if she’d ever get her nose out of those wretched romance novels. How’s a man to live up to those ideals? They’re impossible.”

Gerald stopped to pick up the wayward papers surrounding the desk like patches of dirty snow. “What’s impossible is that we have to work as mere lackeys to beastly upstarts who stole our fathers’ cruise line from him.”

“Not stole,” Martin corrected. “Won. Our fathers put the line up as collateral for a…” He held up his finger and assumed the dramatic pose of a thespian delivering his all important monologue. “They put it up as collateral on a ‘sure-fire win’.

“Don’t confuse me with the facts,” Gerald grumbled. He snatched the paper from Martin’s hand. “Now, what’s this about a map?”

Martin put a finger to his lips and shook his head. “Not here,” he mouthed.

Gerald sighed and strode to the door and flung it open. “Fine. Where would you prefer to talk?”

“Follow me.” Martin glanced furtively toward the decks in all directions. Laughter floated from those in the pool and playing shuffleboard, but no one was in sight. He hurried along the promenade until he reached a door marked: ‘No Admittance. Employees Only.’

Martin fumbled in his pocket until he came up with a large bronze key. He put it in the lock and twisted. The door opened with a soft click. “Come on.”

Darkness and damp surrounded them. “Can’t we at least turn on the lights?”

“Shhh…” Martin pressed something cold and hard into Gerald’s hand. “Use this.”

Gerald flicked the switch and the flashlight came to life. “Why all the cloak and dagger?” He wrinkled his nose. “And why do we have to talk in the bowels of the ship? It smells like old fish cooked in motor oil.”

“Stop complaining.”

The passage widened into a large cargo hold; dark, like the rest. Prickles raised the small hairs on Gerald’s neck. “Shouldn’t people be working?”

“Shh…”Martin commanded. “You want to get us caught?”

Men in striped shirts and bandanas strolled out from the shadows surrounding the crates. They spoke in high pitched, excited voices. Gerald couldn’t understand a word. He looked at Martin. His friend shrugged and put his finger to his lips.

The circled the open area in the hold, keeping to the deep shadows thrown by the crates and the sunlight coming in through the loading doors. An unfamiliar boat bobbed alongside, flying the skull and crossbones. Gerald swallowed. His world spun. Pirates? It couldn’t be.

Martin swore softly and steadied Gerald with one hand and caught the paper Gerald dropped with the other. “Pull yourself together. This is our way to fame and fortune. I’ll get Isola and you’ll get your money, without having to make yourself, or some poor old woman miserable to do it.”

Gerald bristled. “Suffer…” he hissed.

“Shhh….” Martin rolled his eyes. “Don’t you see?” he whispered. “This is it. We stop the pirates, find the treasure and become heroes. Isola will have to at least look at me then and you’ll have everything you ever wanted.”

“I don’t want it badly enough to get killed.” Gerald stared at his friend. “You stole that map from them, didn’t you? Are you crazy?”

Martin sighed. “They said you’d say that.” He whistled once, a sharp shrill sound, grabbed Gerald’s flashlight and stepped into the cargo hold, dragging Gerald with him. “I had hoped they were wrong.” He looked at the motley group of men approaching them. “I do apologize, gentlemen.”

“No worries, mate, ye had to try to save yer friend.” A large, smelly man with a long curly beard, yanked Gerald to an empty chair, shoved him onto it and secured his hands and feet. “But he’s got no sense of adventure. No ambition. He won’t go far.” He spat a wad of tobacco to the floor. “Not at all.”

“I never would have believed it. He was always such a leader when we were kids.” Martin shook his head and leaned forward. “What happened to you Gerald?”

Gerald glared at his friend. “I grew up.”

Martin laughed and backed away. “So you have. But I’d rather be twenty-five and planning, than twenty-seven and dying.” He turned to the pirates. “I see the boat. Where’s the girl?”

“The girl?” The pirate grinned and shook his head. “She stays here, knowin’ nothin’s wrong. At least until you return with the treasure.” His eyes narrowed. “Ye didn’ think we’d be stupid enough to let you go with everythin’ ye wanted, did ye?”

“What do you mean?” Martin demanded. “She’s not here, is she? You dirty, stinking…”

“Now, now, me lad. No sense getting’ all, what’s the sayin’? Bent out o shape. We be pirates. Ye can only trust us so much. And ye be pirate too, if not by blood than by nature. Ye want yer Isola, ye find the treasure and bring it to us. We’ll be sittin’ a waitin’ as marked on the map.”

“Fine,” Martin snapped. “My secret’s out. But you better keep Isola and…” he nodded toward Gerald, “her brother safe until I return.”

The pirate’s eyes narrowed and he waved his men back. “Ye think it be wise to threaten me boy? After all, yer the one who failed. Ye promised me the famous Pirate Seahawk. Instead ye bring us …ye bring us him.”

Gerald strained against his bonds. “Now just one minute. Seahawk’s a myth. Never existed.”

“Is that what ye be thinkin’?” The pirate scratched his bearded chin. “And did ye think the legends sprang out of the sea spray then?” He shook his head. “No, the youngest and most successful pirate ever to sail the stormy seas be no myth.”

“And what does this have to do with Isola?” Gerald demanded.

“It be simple.” The pirate leveled a steely glance at Martin. “We want the pirate Seahawk. We promised the girl for him. He didn’t bring him. But he delivers the treasure, Seahawk will come to us. It belongs to him, after all. When he does, you’ll get yer girl, and we’ll take the booty and the pirate, just as arranged.”

“That wasn’t the agreement.”

The pirate scowled. “It be the agreement now. If ye know what’s good fer ye, you’ll stop yammerin’ before it changes again.”

Gerald fingered the key Martin had slipped into his hand when he’d leaned forward to taunt him. It was from his foot locker. More than likely that locker held another copy of the map, or the directions to where that copy was hidden. Apparently they could no longer hide who they were. Someone had found the treasure map they’d lost. And they wanted the valuables Seahawk and his accomplice had hidden to rebuild their family’s fortunes. The life they’d embraced at the downturn of their family fortunes and abandoned less than five years later would have to be resumed. Isola’s life was at stake. All that they’d worked for was at stake. His past, and Martin’s had come back to haunt them.

He looked up and caught Martin’s eye. A tiny inclination of his friend’s head indicated understanding. Martin was good, but he’d never find the treasure alone. He’d need help. Seahawk would have to rise from the mist and the waves to lend a hand. Once he got free of his bonds.

Friday, September 3, 2010

September 3, 2010

Hi everyone,

Here's the next set of prompts. No word count or genre restraints. Use one, or as many of the prompts as you can in the piece you write. Good luck and have fun.


* No turning back
* stepping stones
* wishing star
* Always second guess a first impulse

Friday, August 27, 2010

August 27, 2010

Prompt: Write a story, scene, short story or chapter, up to 4,000 words sparked by this photo.
Pertinent Information: This image came to me via e-mail from my friend, Vinny's Multiply site. The photographer is Henry Kun. Please use the image only to spark your creativity. Have fun and God bless.

Saturday, August 21, 2010

August 21, 2010

These came to me via e-mail notification from a friend's Multiply site (with several others that I may post later). Apparently they were actual headlines (though I can't vouch for that with any certainty.). Still, they might just spark someone's imagination. Fell free to write poetry, song lyrics, scenes, short stories, chapters, free-writes or snippets. No word limit. Have fun and I look forward to seeing what you come up with.


* _______ attorney accidentally sues himself.

* County to pay $250,000 to advertise lack of funds.

Have fun. :o) And don't forget to post the story or a link to the story her if you'd like us to read it.

Wednesday, August 18, 2010

August 18, 2010

This prompt originally came from a Multiply Writers Group I belong to. I'm not sure where it originally came from, but if anyone knows, I will gladly give proper credit. Please use the image only to spark your muse.

Prompt: Write a scene, story, chapter, poem, play, essay, narrative, etc inspired by this image. Try to keep the word count between 400 and 3500 words. Then, if you'd like to share you work, please post a link to where it can be read (or the story itself) in the comment box.

God bless and have fun. I can't wait to see what you come up with.

Thursday, August 12, 2010

August 12, 2010

Prompt: "Wherever you go, there you are."

Fans of Buckarroo Bonzai will recognize this quote. :o) Your challenge, should you decide to accept it: Write a scene, story, poem, song, chapter, essay, etc inspired by the above prompt. Extra points for including the actual prompt, but it is not necessary that you do so. Try for 700-2500 words. Have fun and God bless. ;o)

Sunday, August 8, 2010

500 X 03 Spiral

I got this image from a writing buddy of mine on the Multiply site. I'm not sure where she got it from, but I think it was from photo bucket. I am more than willing to give credit to the creator of the image. Please use it for inspiration purposes only.
Prompt: Write a short story, scene, chapter, poem, song, etc, using the prompt for inspiration. Do not exceed 500 words. Have fun. :o)

Thursday, August 5, 2010

August 5, 2010

This picture was sent to me via phone. I'm not sure where it came from, but will gladly give credit to whomever it belongs to. Please use only for inspiration for your writing. I look forward to seeing what you come up with. Have fun.

Tuesday, July 27, 2010

July 27, 2010

Prompt: Card players spend a good deal of time together.

Write a scene, short story, chapter, poem, song, essay, fiction or non-fiction, using the prompt above for inspiration. The exact prompt does not have to be found in the text. Have fun and God bless.

Monday, July 26, 2010

Writer's Aids

Writer's Aids
by Don Hurst author of the fantasy-satire Return to UKOO and Cloud Riders.

Here are some things I try to remember as I write. Some may help, some may not.

1st Draft: CREATE, don't try for perfection. Get it on paper.

Make sure the story in your head gets on paper. Then Work with what's ACTUALLY ON PAPER/SCREEN.

The worst enemy to creativity is self-doubt.

You don't get in the mood to write, You WRITE TO GET IN THE MOOD!

You don't wait for an idea to write, You WRITE TO GET AN IDEA!

Write from the INSIDE out.

SUSPENSE is arousing the reader's CURIOSITY. Keep the reader CURIOUS until the end.


Use ACTIVE VERBS. Direct action eliminates WAS, WERE, ING. Lazy Verbs: WALKED, STOOD, SAT, MOVED, LOOKED. SHOWING the actions eliminates: BEGAN, STARTED, CONTINUING, THEN, etc.

ACTIVE SENTENCES put the story on stage. Inactive sentences hide behind the stage curtain.

If you TELL me, it's an essay. If you SHOW me, it's a story.

TELLING is for the writer. SHOWING is for the reader.

Use the internet search engines to find examples of almost anything. For example, GOOGLE any of the above subjects.

Quote: "The life you have led doesn't need to be the only life you have."

Quote: "TRUTH is eternal, KNOWLEDGE is changeable. It can be disastrous to confuse them."

Wednesday, July 21, 2010

500 X 02 Lock

This prompt comes from my friend Vinny's site. 3-7-10. I think she found it on photobucket. I look forward to seeing what you come up with for this. The challenge is...500 words or less. Have fun.
God bless,
with God all things are possible

Friday, July 16, 2010

July 17, 2010

Here's a story starter for you. I'd love to see where it takes you. Have fun. :o)

The fog rolled in over the mountains, blanketing the small village in a dense gray cloud of cold and damp. Woodsmoke, all but unseen, mixed with the mists, pinpointing dwellings lost to sight. In the distance the cliffside lighthouse sounded it's clarion call, warning passing ships of the nearby rocky coast, though its all-seeing eye hid in the shadows of the night, defeated by the ever-thickening gloom. It was a night fit for neither man, nor beast, yet in this night a solitary soul walked.

Monday, July 12, 2010

Wicked Wind (July 12, 2010)

Ok this little snippet is inspired by the following prompt which came from Daily Writing Practice (see links section). It is entirely freewrite, but was fun to write. Thanks to all who read and comment.


Prompt: Wicked Wind

Wicked Wind
© Marlicia Fernandez (WC 630) 7-12-10

The door slams open against the rough hewn timber tavern walls. Wet leaves swirl around the entry and the man who staggers in. The damp material of his shirt and pants cling to the sizeable muscles of his chest, arms and legs. Hatless, coatless and apparently, witless, he stands there, eyes wide and unfocused. He crouches and leans forward, his head cradled in his hands, elbows resting on his knees. Deep, shuddering gasps rack his sizeable frame. What cold put the fear of God into such a man?

“Close the door, you fool,” bartender snapped. “You’re wasting heat the heat and lettin’ in the weather.”

The barkeep is a good man at heart, patient, kind and understanding. But when it comes to money, either the making or the losing of it, he becomes another person entirely. A real “Mr. Jekyl” to his normally mild mannered “Dr. Hyde.”

The man in the doorway didn’t move.

Barney, that’s the barkeep, slams down the shot glass he’s cleaning , throws his bar towel onto the counter and stalks toward the far end of the bar, fists clenched. I guess I should be thankful he just didn’t vault over it. He’s been known to do that.

“Take it easy, Barney, I’ll get it.” Barney scowls, but returns to polishing the shot glasses lined up along the back of the bar beneath the mirror. I slide off my stool and ease around the immovable mountain man to shut the door. On the way back, I grab the newcomer’s arm and hope he doesn’t take it into his head to resist. He could probably throw me across the room without half trying.

To my relief he follows without protest, his face pale, his expression slack—except for his eyes. Those eyes reflect terror. “Sit down, I’ll buy you a drink,” I say when we reach the bar.
He sits and nods.

“What’ll it be,” Barney asks. “Scotch, Whiskey? Ale?”

The man’s mouth works but nothing comes out. “Scotch,” I say. I drop some money on the table. “Better make it a double. He looks like he needs it.”

Barney grins and nods. “Sure thing G. R. . Whatever you say.”

I turn to the man, sitting, shivering beside me. “Want to tell us what happened?”

Barney arrives with the drink and plunks it on the table in front of our guest. The big man curls his great fingers around the glass and tosses it back in one gulp. The color returns to his cheeks and his breathing eases. He wipes his mouth with the back of his hand.

“Tis a wicked wind that bodes no good. It howls through the night like a banshee looking for an unsuspecting soul to snatch. Can’t ye hear it wailin’?”

“So you be Irish, be ye?” I lean against the bar, careful to keep my features in the shadows. “What be your name?”

“Sean O’Connor.” The man reached into his pocket and pulled out several coins. He waved to Barney. “Get me another, straight up.”

“Well, Sean-O. You needn’t be afraid of a little wind. Nor the Banshee neither. She be me friend don’t ye know.”

The wicked wind wails louder and I ease into the flickering lantern light. “Ye recognize me know, don’t ye boy? Ye can’t run from me, but ye knew that.”

Sean drops the glass onto the counter, or where the counter would have been, had it been solid…but spirits don’t need solid things, and we be spirits. I smile and lean into the light. “Ye should thank the Banshee for leading ye here. Not everyone gets their final drink.”

I reach out to touch the terrified man with my cold, white fingers. His heart stops. He doesn’t even scream.

July 12, 2010

Here's the prompt for today. It's a picture prompt by Rembrandt called the Philosopher. I look forward to seeing what you come up with.

Have fun.
God bless,

Sunday, July 11, 2010

The Alien

Four line poem topic this fine, smoking hot Saturday: aliens.

This came from Daily Writing Prompts (see links section) . I wasn't sure if he meant four actual lines or if he meant sentences. I came up with four sentences and so I'll post it here before I post it there, in case it doesn't fit the bill. :o) Feel free to comment or to try your hand at it, whether it be four lines or four sentences.

The Alien
by Marlicia Fernandez (7-11-10)

Bright, flashing light chases the darkness into hiding--out of sight.
A low rumble fills the silence of the night--fading abruptly into nothing.
Soft tapping draws attention to the window--to the golden eyes peering through the glass, reflecting curiosity--like mine.
Silver moonlight glints off the oval head, alien in many ways and yet so strangely, achingly, familiar.


The Alien (2)
by Marlicia Fernandez (7-11-10)

Bright, flashing light chases darkness into hiding--out of sight.
A low rumble fills the silence of the night--fading abruptly into nothing.
Soft tapping draws attention to the window--to the golden eyes peering through the glass.
Silver moonlight glints off the oval head, alien in many ways and yet so strangely, achingly, familiar.


The Alien (3)
by Marlicia Fernandez (7-12-10)

Bright, flashing light chases darkness into hiding--out of sight.
Low rumbles fill the night--fading into nothing.
Tapping draws attention to the window-- golden eyes peer through the glass.
Moonlight glints off the oval head, alien in many ways and yet so strangely, achingly, familiar.

Thursday, July 8, 2010

July 8, 2010

He does not enjoy fun.

Use the phrase above as an inspiration for a scene, chapter, short story, poem, essay, or for song lyrics. The prompt itself does not have to appear in the piece.
Have fun.

Sunday, June 27, 2010

500 X 01 Fish

I've been writing with 500 word challenge clubs for years. They are always fun and often give me great ideas to pursue at a later time. I thought I'd give it a go here. Use the image to write a story, chapter, scene or poem of 500 words or less. The image is meant to inspire only. It does not have to be an integral part or even appear in the piece. The image is not mine. It came to me in one of those e-mails that float around. I will give proper credit if someone knows who the picture belongs to. Have fun...


Monday, June 21, 2010

June 21, 2010

Builders nail down the contract first.

Write a story or scene that either uses the sentence above verbatim, or embodies the spirit of it. Any genre is good. Have fun.


Sunday, June 20, 2010

June 20, 2010

I took this picture myself with a digital camera. I hope it gets you writing. Have fun with it.

Friday, June 18, 2010

June 18, 2010

This image is not mine. It was sent to me via e-mail. I do not know who it belongs to, but will gladly give credit if someone does. Please use it only to spark your writing muse. Have fun with this and don't forget to let us see what you write.

Thursday, June 17, 2010

June 17, 2010

When your work speaks for itself, don't interrupt.

Use the prompt above as inspiration for a short story, chapter, scene or poem in any genre. As an extra challenge, try to keep it between 500 and 1500 words.

Good luck and have fun.

Monday, June 14, 2010

June 14, 2010

Good and bad luck are often mistaken for good and bad judgment.

Using the prompt above as the inspiration, write a poem, short story, chapter, scene or essay. The prompt itself does not have to appear in your work. If you'd like to share what you've written with others, please post a link to this thread. Have fun!


Saturday, June 5, 2010

June 5, 2010 Dancing

My daughter sent me this image from her new 'droid' phone. I hope it stirs your creative juices. If it does, please post a link to your story here so I, and others can read it. Have fun.

Sunday, April 4, 2010

April 4, 2010 Making a Decision

Everyone remembers the little story The Lady or The Tiger right? Maybe not. Ok the crux is the person finds himself in an arena of sorts facing two doors. Behind one is a lady. Behind the other, is a tiger. (You can) write one of three things:

* Write about the choice made and what happens afterwards.
* Write about what led to the situation.
* Write about what led to the situation, the choice that is made and what happens afterward.

The choices don't have be a lady or a tiger. Have fun.