From the Audience: A Look at Marie

“I invite you to a world where there is no such thing as time. A place where the lines seem to blur together, no one really noticing boundaries. I invite you to take a seat and to watch the show.  The hangman and the puncture artist will welcome you with open arms and instruments, looking for a willing stretch of skin and perhaps an unloved neck.  Oh no, dear Clementine; this side show is anything but what you were expecting. No child.”  His voice was soft as he nudged her to the door of the arboretum. The woman was terrified. That was clear but then again, so was her enthusiasm. Her wide eyes, fighting for emotional control of them. The ringmaster saw it and simply, ushered her in. The ring sat waiting for the show, a crowd sitting quietly whispering to themselves. He sat dear Clementine down in the only open seat, taking her coat and placing it over the back of the chair. The ticket collector came to her, but the Ringmaster waived him off. 

“She is my guest.” His cool hand lay on her barely covered shoulder and his stare was just as cold. The ticket collector gave the girl and odd smile and then continued. Clementine looked back at the Ringmaster as he walked to the back of the theater.

‘What have I gotten myself into?’ Her gaze turned from fear to rapt excitement as the lights dimmed. Her focus was brought to the center ring. A small woman with a thin bone structure sat limply, piercings fresh through the skin near her joints. She looked… dead. Clementine gasped, seeing a bald gentleman walk up from behind her to the roar of the crowd.  He flourished and bowed, drinking in the moment. His hand extended to the girls, picking her hand up. Her eyes blinked. ‘She’s alive!’ Clementine inhaled sharply and her hand flew up to cover her mouth.  The woman was stunning. Simply beautiful… but she couldn’t be alive… No one in their right mind would put themselves…

“Ladies and Gentlemen! Welcome to the show! I see you have already been greeted by our lovely Marie. Please, do give her a round of applause!” The audience erupted and the Ringmaster gestured towards the girl now suspended midair, giggling and hanging limply. A bald man stood behind her almost in the shadows, saluting the crowd, a grin across his own makeup covered face.  He tugged a rope and Marie’s head popped up looking over the crowd, eyes connecting with Clementines…

“Yes we have a new guest for the evening, thank you for noticing my dear.” The Ringmaster didn’t even look up but gestured to the girl in the audience. Marie let a smile slide across her lips as her master, tugged another rope and a series of smaller strings. Her hand raised and she waved gently, her fingers dancing up and down with the string, accordingly. Clementines stomach turned and she help a kerchief over her mouth. She felt faint but could not look away…The Ringmasters eyes glinted as he watched her reaction, starring at the girl. ‘What have I gotten myself into’ she thought quietly as the show began to seem to revolve around her…

Between Genius and... Genius! A response to Goggles and Lace's Writing Prompt

“You're kidding right?” I growled into the communicator and shook my head, wavinga hand at one of the gremlins about my lab. He was holding some sort of paperwork, but quite frankly, I didn't care. This investor bullshit is not for me. “Fine. We'll have a prototype up and running within the next couple of weeks. I'll need more... Yes. Send a shipment ASAP. And not ASAP as in 'as soon as you please'. The traditional version of the acronym will do just fine.” I hung up before more demands could be made of me. I appreciate rich idiots like one enjoys ditzy blond play things. As long as they're sitting looking pretty and not speaking, it's 'all good in the hood'. I sighed and ran a hand through my ever increasingly longer hair. I should get a hair cut...

“Master!” I sighed. These little genetic manipulated mutations might have been a mistake...

“What?!” I snapped, squeezing the bridge of my nose. I was told once it fights oncoming headaches. Whoever said that was a fucking liar. The gremlin coughed and stood as straight as it could in front of me, thrusting paperwork at my free hand. I took it, bringing the yellowing papers up to my face for a closer look. It was plans... Plans I hadn't drawn up. I adjusted my goggles and peered closer at the papers.

“I made a few adjustments... With Mistress Annie's help...” His voice was raspy and sounded like that of an overworked child. High pitched and seeking approval while having this annoying undertone of whine that shot through me like nails on a... well you get my point.

“Ahh.. Annie was here today was she?” That girl was becoming too smart for her own good. I always advocated killing the girl. But no! Now she was attached to me.

I grumbled as I walked over to the wall of switches and levers. I left the decoy wall there for funsies. Felt like every mad scientist lab should have one, and what the hell, the gremlins love it. A mirror hung at eye level off of a piece of rawhide. I checked it thoughtfully, needing a moment to inspect myself before heading upstairs. Adopted child or not, she tended to be upset when I came upstairs looking like I haven't slept in 3 days... or had it been 4? Who knew at this point. The sun doesn't reach down here anyway. My eyes looked sunken in and closer to black then my dark brown eyes ever should. Pale. Sickly, she'd say. Healthy, I'd argue as always. No chance of skin cancer in the dark. Should tie my hair back. I stretched out my hand and a gremlin deposited a brush with a piece of string on the end. Perfect.

“Thank you Cedric.”

“Eyown, master.” I looked down and it was in fact. Cedric was taller. Less heavy around the middle. Also less likely to snap at a moments notice. I nodded.

“Apologies Eyown. Cedric was just right here.”

“ 'E got hungry. Went out to yard to catch dinner.” I chuckled as I tied my hair back.

“Very well. You should eat too. Go run along. I'll be back after I take care of Annie.” He nodded and galloped off towards the gate. That's two.. where was... Ah. I looked in the mirror more carefully at the pipes that led to the generator. Hanging upside down was the tallest of the bizarre little creatures, sound asleep. I nodded and stepped to the side, pulling the one functional lever on the wall, revealing my lift. It was a solid piece of steel with only two levers. One to go up, and one to go down. And it only went between my lab and the false fireplace in my bedroom. I took the lift, looking around the lab once more for good measure. Two of them outside and one snoring. And nothing out of place. Good enough to stop for dinner.

I opened the door to my chamber to see Annie, tapping her foot impatiently.

“Father.” Her voice was as flat as her stare. Over the glasses, and stern. I sighed and brought a smile to my lips.

“Yes, dear. How was school today?” I walked over and hugged her gently, though there was no physical response from her.

“I didn't go.”

“Why is that?”

“Because I already know everything they can teach me. I showed Mrs. Boudain how to correct her nuclear fission equations. She's kinda dumb.” I had to chuckle. Mrs. Boudain had invented half those equations, and the other half she stole from her late husband. She never could get those ironed out quite right. It was at that point she had turned to villanry, deciding that if her late husband, Mr. Theodias Boudain was dumb enough to get himself killed saving the world, she'd better be on the side that lived longer. Villanry it was. “Why do I have to go?” Her voice cut through my thoughts and I stopped looking down at the 12 year old.

“Because I said so.” The fall back answer for every lame parent there ever was. I was quickly becoming one of those.

“Seriously? How about a real reason?” She blew her bangs out of her freckled face as the took to the marble banister, sliding down expertly. I walked quietly down he stairs starring at her while I thought.

“Because. You could be the smartest little child there ever was, the strongest little girl, or the most evil, however, you can still learn a thing or two about humanity within those walls.” I raised a brow, pulling a small pair of spectacles out of my pocket, and replacing my goggles with them. She rolled her eyes and sighed heavily, letting her shoulders fall in an overly dramatic fashion.

“Humans suck” She said slouching further as she crossed her arms.

“That may be true Miss Annie, but that's not up for debate. You're going to school tomorrow, even if I have to have Cedric bring you.” She wrinkled her nose and stuck her tongue out. “Then it's settled.” The door gong sounded, a series of smaller bells going off through the hallway. “Go set the table, I need to answer this.” I had been expecting someone. Annie frowned and nodded, slumping off towards the dining room. I turned, footsteps echoing down the ornate hallway. I should invest in carpeting... though I feel I come to that conclusion every time I walk the halls. I pulled a lever by the door and stood, watching it swing open slowly. A woman stood before me, leaning against the doorway, holding her side. A slight smirk graced her features as she stepped through the door way, dropping her pack. She was a tall girl, blond hair and striking blue eyes, but that wasn't why she was interesting to me. She opened her pack, wordlessly handing me a couple of brass keys on a chain. From that very same pack came a brass box.

“Good.” I smiled and took the box under my arm, turning to head back to the dining room. “Clean up upstairs. Dinner will be ready in five minutes.” I heard a soft whimper. I turned, eyes set ina glare over my glasses. She stood up as straight as she could and nodded. I turned and continued my trek.

“Was that Anya?? What'd she bring you?? Is it that? What's in the box?” The child's eyes and ears missed nothing, a wonderful and also wholly loath-able attribute. She pried at my arm in an attempt to release the box from it. I shook my head and slapped her hands lightly.

“I thought you outgrew this stage years ago.” I muttered and placed the box down on the table, sitting in front of it. It wasn't ticking, so the mechanism was deactivated. A plus. The keys in my hand fit into two locks on the box perfectly. The lid popped open with a soft hiss. Annie jumped behind me and looked over my shoulder as I pulled the piston from within it. Small, much smaller than the box itself, but none the less the part I needed. There was some miscellaneous crud in there as well, including a few specialty bolts for the dragon automaton I was tinkering with in my spare time.

Anya reappeared, now dressed more formally, bandages wrapped tightly around her waist and ribs. She smiled softly at Annie, who ran to her and hugged her, a bit too tightly. Anya gasped and Annie froze. “I'm sooooo sorry Anya!” She signed quickly as well as said it, backing off, a bit surprised. Anya nodded and patted her on the head signing “It'll be alright little one.” She bowed her head to me and sat down.

One of the help appeared around the corner and brought a tray with three meals piping hot on them. He was the only one that could cook around here. Might as well make use of it.

“Let's eat.” I smiled to the girls. For that one moment, life seemed normal. Projects underway, deadlines to fulfill, a girl set straight again, and one recovering from a successful mission. Sometimes it's good to be evil.  

Speak Out with your Geek Out: Costumes

Ok, ok. I'm sure you guys were expecting my first Speak Out post on gaming, writing, or something of that ilk, because I talk about it CONSTANTLY. However. There are a few things with which I frequently geek out over. One of them is costuming.

If you're one of my close friends, this is no surprise to you. I've done a few costumes in the past for friends, not in the least bit excluding my work on a Final Fantasy costume extravaganza. My interests in costuming have deep roots in my love of theater and the ability of clothing to transform a person. Sometimes all it takes is a new hat to make an outfit a thousand times better. Ok, maybe not a thousand times, but pretty darn close. Beyond a simple outfit change is the mental change that's taken on by the person to sort of become that figure that they're representing.

My personal experience in the world of costuming has been short but entirely fulfilling. A few years back I created the aforementioned final fantasy costumes for myself and two of my friends for Halloween. My costume alone took about 72 hours of almost non-stop work, and countless hours on the other two. By the end, Cloud, Tifa, and Lulu emerged to a Halloween party, with rounds of compliments and a ton of congratulating. I even got mentioned in Cloud's Best Costume acceptance speech. It was all a lot of fun and to be honest something I wouldn't mind repeating. I work on costumes for Ren Faires on the side, mostly for myself. Occasionally I'll work on something for someone else, with no pay, but entirely for the love of working with the fabric and seeing the 'customer's' thrilled face at the end of it. Watching them go through fittings and adjustments, so it fits them perfectly is great.

I've always be fascinated by this sort of change. Just watching shy individuals go from their day to day to these amazing characters all because of some make-up, hair, and wardrobe. This sort of change is expected of actors and stage-folk, however the change is most remarkable from those that you have friends of, most likely. Or at the very least, you've heard them whispered about in the shadowy corners of the gaming and convention worlds. Cosplayers and LARPers. No? Oh ok, just no idea of what they are. Time for a brief explanation.

Cosplayers are “short for 'costume play',is a type of performance art in which participants don costumes and accessories to represent a specific character or idea.” This sort of performance (and yes, it is a performance) can range from Halloween to any particular convention you attend. Often times at these conventions there are prizes for best cosplay for the weekend, with many contests and events for the costumed to parade around and show off their handy work.

LARPers are “Live action role players”. These individuals dress up in costume, must like the cosplayers , but take it a step further acting out their characters and recording their hits, misses, successes and failures within the game environment. More often than not these people can be found in groups over the weekends in the woods with their friends, practicing their craft. I should say right off the bat, that while most people have some degree of disdain in the gaming world for these people, I don't share in that opinion. Hell, I think it's great! Have I done it? No. Will I ever? Probably not. Why, you ask? Why don't you?

Regardless on your feelings on either of these categories, the idea of dressing up and acting is not a new one nor a terribly novel concept. It's trans-formative powers are amazing and quite well known throughout the world. Another wonderful example of the costuming art? Drag Queens. Love them! No really. I think it's amazing. I really do. I've watched a few on tv and then so many tutorials online about how to cover and fix and conceal things that, if I were a man, I'd have tried it by now. Helps that I have a ton of makeup. Another one of those; if you know me, you wouldn't be shocked moments.

Costuming and makeup offer the world a chance to see yourself in a different light, potentially a more positive one that will drive you to bring these sort of behavior that you may want to make slight changes in in your day to day. So think about it the next time you start your day on a sour note. Maybe throw on your favorite shirt, or spend a minute or two extra fluffing your hair. Something little that can help transform your attitude and the attitude of those around you.

Namaste,

Jessi

I am only responsible for three of these costumes, but
the party was amazing. Great memories.

No Inkwell? Writing Exercise!

Hello all!

It's true! There is no Inkwell meeting today, however, that doesn't mean you're off the hook. I decided to give one of my favorite exercises to you all today, and see what happens. Enjoy and please, feel free to post your results below in the comments section.

It's moments of quiet that lead to thoughtful confusion and honest breakthroughs. More often than not, your characters have experienced this sort of phenomena (on the page or off).

So this week's writing exercise is to take a character from your WiP (that's Work in Progress), and sit them down somewhere they're most comfortable. Coffee shop, meadow, train depot, or athletic field; whatever the case may be, make it quiet and comfortable. Maybe a little too quiet. Write everything they begin to think about. Make note of any movements or gesticulations they make while in this sort of thought pattern. Does this moment lead to confusion or clarity? Why?

Write at least 500 words on their thought process and inner monologue. Scenery, etc. will be an added bonus but not part of your word count. Capture your characters thoughts, and see what comes out.

Happy writing!
~Jessi

To Write From the World of Dreams

“Dreams are a succession of images, sounds or emotions that pass through the mind during sleep. The content and purpose of dreams are not fully understood, though they have been a topic of speculation and interest throughout recorded history”~Wikipedia

The idea of writing from your dreams is not a new one. In fact there are several books on the topic, prescribed through many creative writing courses all over the world in modern curriculum. With that being said, I'd like to take this Monday's blog post to discuss just that.

The Imagination Unbound

One of the lovely things about dreams and the lucid state, is that in parts, things flow together. They cause one to almost feel as though there is nothing more natural than a potted petunia floating through the dangerous purple sky. It doesn't matter that it simply doesn't make sense, but allows the mind to meander in and out of the lovely absurdism that is created when our minds relax. The simplistic Dali-esque version of our brains actually speaks volumes as to who we are as a person. No. Stop right there. I'm not telling you that Freud was right and that you have an inherent crush on your mother/father and there's nothing you can do about it. I'm more getting at the fact that, the things you dream about are relevant to your life. These images can often be helpful reminders to the things that populate the waking world as well as our dreams.

Let your imagination that populates your dreams, flood into your writing, whether it be a journal (dream journal, for example) or your works of fiction. Especially your works of fiction. Imagination is your greatest tool. Use it!

Dream a Little...Awful Dream

Like dreams, sometimes there are bad stories. Bad dreams leave us rocked with an uneasy, fearful, and sometimes dumbfounded. These however can be launching points for some great stories. Why not take that moment in your dream where everything went wrong and use it as a pivotal moment in your next short? Or take the moment where things came to a sudden head and then you were left sitting on the side of the street, eating ice cream as a moment of peace within your storyline?

All of the oddities and awful things that happen in dreams can be used. Bad stories, give us things we can use, even if we have to trash the world around it. Why not use our awful, very bad, no-good dreams in a similar fashion?

Tell Your Inner Critic to 'Put a Sock In It'

Another of the great aspects about dreams and the dreaming, is that very rarely can you stop the dream. You can't just grab the reins and suddenly you're in control. Sometimes you can, but not often.

The lesson here is that sometimes, you just need to get that voice of doubt and your inner critic out of the way. These are the voices that keep you from achieving the impossible within the confines of your story. Take the story and just write. In the spirit of many writing competitions, like NaNoWriMo; just write. Ignore that inner voice. Seriously. What does that guy know anyway? You want a wombat themed race of semi-sentient individuals to overthrow the piranha pirates of Bangladesh? Do it. Flying naked mole rats. Why not? A lazy ferret to motivate your main? Ok well for some of us, that's a little closer to truth than fiction.

So write. Write all you can. Use your dreams and your imagination to guide you. Step back from the rules set forth by grammar and good taste, and begin! Those rules will be there when you're done. You can always go back through after and begin the refining process (psst it's called editing for a reason). Don't take all of your wackiness out of it. Be your crazy, dream possessed self and write what ever comes your way.

~Writing Task for the Week~
Are you an avid dreamer? Do you only dream once in a blue moon? Either way, keep a notepad next to your bed, and anything you find intriguing about your dreams, jot it down as soon as you wake up. Story seeds come from interesting places, and your dreams will often be the source for more than a few, whether you realize it or not.

Cheers,
Jessi

From the Eyes of a Watcher

Her scream was the most beautiful sound in the Nightmare Realm. It signaled her return. The delicately boned girl on the bed, shot up, clutching her chest as she let out a scream that was rivaled by only murder victims. She was at her most magnificent then. Illia screamed as her consciousness flooded into her body here, from the realm known to her as Reality. To us, it was a foreign place, full of the harshness that humanity is capable of... a land of so much potential to live out these nightmares we inflict on the mortals. I smile a vicious, toothy smile, settling down in the arm chair and pouring her a cup of tea.

“Good evening Princess.” I said softly and her eyes darted across the room to where I sat. The emerald orbs focused on me and her shaky hand moved from her chest to her head, wiping the cold sweat from her brow.

“That doesn't get any easier...” She said softly, her voice trembling as she ran her hands over her face, realizing where she was. I simply sat in the corner, watching. The frailty of the human mind never ceased to amaze me. It took the trauma of the transition with such terrifying elegance, yet every time, the young girl remained terrified of the portals. She swung her legs over the side of the bed, grabbing her silk dressing gown and tying it loosely around her waist. Her face was alabaster white, framed with long chocolate brown curls, leaving the girl a slave to her beauty. She looked so much like her father some mornings.

“Here. Have some tea and relax. We have some time before the meetings begin for the day.” I pushed a tea cup across the small table to her. She nodded and picked up the cup, taking a deep breath, inhaling the sweet fumes of the tea. Her requirements were simple, unlike her fathers. He however, now resided solely in that foreign land beyond the veil. She frowned, catching my eyes drifting over towards the window.

“What troubles you, Watcher?” her voice was soft and sweet, like that of a concerned child. It was something she would have to shed in the coming months. Her place was very nearly as secure as her fathers was, albeit the dissent within the upper class and the nobility was a bit disconcerting. I forced a smile and turned back to her shaking my head.

“I can no longer see the King.” Her eyes cast downward as she nodded. The sadness in her demeanor was incredibly alluring, and it took everything in my power not to try to feed off of the moment. I used to be a Monster, the King's personal guard. Now however, I seem to have been demoted. Now I watch. I watch the links between the worlds for the Family. I watch the Princess. I snarled slightly thinking about the switch. Enough however about me. My place has been defined. This is a story about my lovely little charge. She sits watching my movements. I don't need eyes to see that body language. Her fear and unsure nature only betrayed her near me. She was strong and the face of the empire that she needed to be. The poor, poor little princess. She's been raised to take this position and yet somehow she's managed to foul it up. Her only job was to take the court and maintain the peace until the time of war was upon us. Here she sat, naïve to the real purpose of her presence. Poor little girl. Poor delusional little girl.

Her hand moved from her tea mug to my hand. I recoiled in shock and stood, going to the window. Her hand was cold, like one would expect from someone first entering the realm. It wasn't the temperature that shocked me however, it was the gesture itself. Her mother's compassion would do her no good here.

A knock on the door signaled the start of the day, thankfully. I walked to the door, opening a crack and nodding to the guard. The roach seemed to nod back and closed the door.

"Explain to me why again, the Roaches must guard my door?" A shudder went through her voice. I let a grin slide across my mouth and a small chuckle escaped. It turned into a laugh that sounded far more maniacal than I had intended. I coughed and chuckled again.

"Because they're the best stealth agents we have in the palace. You wouldn't even notice them if it weren't for the knock on the door." My smile didn't reassure her, as she stood and made her way across the room. The closet stood before her as she contemplated what to wear for the day. For some reason, this was the decision that took the longest in the day. She frowned, picking up a black veiled hat and placed it on the side of her head, pinning it into place, carefully. The rest of the ensemble would follow. A pair of black military style boots, some sort of skirt, and a jacket to hide all of the various weaponry she carried around with her. Even in her own palace, she claimed not to feel safe. To be fair, would you feel safe, knowing that half of the nobility was out to kill you? See?

"I'm ready." She nodded looking in the mirror judging as to whether or not everything was hidden properly. She picked up one last sword that lay by her bed. It was largely ceremonial, but the gesture was still appreciated. Handing me the hilt, she unsheathed the sword and ran her finger delicately over the blade, her blood trickling down the blade. I grinned. So it should continue.

Inkwell Recap for 8/01/2011 : A Guest Speaker

Good Monday All!

Hello and welcome to the first Inkwell Recap in a .. month or so. That's partially my fault, with being completely and utterly creatively exhausted with my attempts at the first attempt at Camp NaNo eating up all that my muse could offer, and it wasn't enough. That is to say, my first months' attempt failed completely and utterly. That however is neither here nor there. This is about what went down at Inkwell tonight.

Zack, one of our younger members, and easily one of the more talented, offered his views on the writing process and his helpful tips, along with the writing exercise I'll provide you with at the bottom of this entry. His advice was insightful and above all gave all the writers permission to suck. Look, this isn't new advice, but to someone, somewhere it's actually fairly radical. The ability to let yourself suck in order to get your first draft out is something that not a lot of writers allow, or even let themselves do. Below is the video to the Vlog Brothers entry by Maureen Johnson, a well known author in the YA Genre.



In addition to this bit of insight, he offered a writing challenge that has been deemed one of the hardest to do given the subject matter and the delicacy with which it has to be handled. With that being said, I leave you with the classic T.S. Eliot/John Gardner writing prompt.

This exercise is quite possibly the most difficult, demanding and important exercise a writer can ever do. The poet and critic, T. S. Eliot, coined the phrase “objective correlative” to designate what he believed was the most important element in writing: Rendering the description of an object so that the emotional state of the character from whose point of view we receive the description is revealed WITHOUT ever telling the reader what that emotional state is or what has motivated it.

The late John Gardner, recognized in his lifetime as the leading creative writing teacher in the United States, developed the following exercise for students:

A middle-age man is waiting at a bus stop. He has just learned that his son has died violently. Describe the setting from the man’s point of view WITHOUT telling your reader what has happened. How will the street look to this man? What are the sounds? Odors? Colors? That this man will notice? What will his clothes feel like? Write a 250 word description

Respond with your flash fiction in the comments section if you feel so compelled. This was my response.

I sat, cell phone dropping from my hands in perceived slow motion. I had no strength. Nothing left within me to propel me forward; to get me to care about what was going on. The air was silent and the music that played a continuous theme to my life seemed to come crashing to a halt, jumbled up behind the last sentence I had heard. A screech filled the deadened air and I looked up, seeing a bus pull towards the curb. I glanced to my side at the man sitting with me on the bench. He was saying something. What I couldn’t tell, but from the lip movement, he seemed to be asking if I was ok. I shook my head; in a sort of gesture I could hear him. His ragged gloves hand, gripped my shoulder and I looked to where the cell phone had fallen. I went to go pick it up and someone handed it to me, their cool blue eyes meeting my own. All at once, the noises of the day to day world came rushing back. The cars, the voices of the people around me, and my wife’s voice on the other end of the cell phone, seeing if I was still there. It had started off like any other day, and now the world seemed to have settled into cooler shades of black and grey. The concrete seemed darker, and the bus that pulled up in front of the stop wasn’t its normal vibrant blue. The sour smells of the city, seemed more pungent. The sky had clouded over, shadowing all that surrounded, as if to echo my mood. The whoosh of the doors to the bus opened with a gust of air, blowing what was left of my hair backwards.

“All aboard, last stop approaching” The shock of the moment seemed to wear off and in that moment I simply cried. Collapsed onto the bench and cried. This street would be forever changed.

A Goggles and Lace Writing Challenge: The First Snowfall

I walked quietly through the paths of the campus, looming grey clouds, gently reminding me to get inside before some sort delinquent weather started dropping from them. It was cold enough for snow but still. It was early November in New England, it could go either way. Heavy freezing rain, or a light snow to usher in colder and much harsher weather ahead. I took a deep breath and let the cold, moist air fill my lungs. It seemed a welcome relief in the dryness of late fall...

I pulled my coat tighter around me and looked over the cold grey of the campus that matched the clouds perfectly. For all the damp coolness and the warmth of the dorms that lay just 50 feet away, I wanted to stay outside. I took a seat on the park style bench outside the big rock in the freshman quad and pulled a pack of cloves from my pocket. It'd been a long semester already and finals had yet to come. Hell, it wasn't even thanksgiving yet. The funny part about all of it was, the campus hadn't seen it this quiet since the first day of freshman move in. There wasn't a soul outside in the impending storm.

I took a clove out and lit it frowning as the smoke rings blew away in the breeze. The cinnamon spice taste of the cigarette reminded me of the holidays in the best and worst of ways. It was ironic that these were the memories triggered by the snow. I let the smile slip from my lips as someone sat down next to me. I looked up and held my pack of cloves out to the new occupant on the bench. My room mate took one and lit it, looking out at the path leading towards the campus center.

“Ready for the holidays?” Her thin hands held the cigarette delicately, watching my movements, calculating what I would say before I said it. I smiled softly, but sadly. “I see.” She nodded and took a drag, trying to ignore the fact that I'll be staying on campus again this year. She always makes the offer to bring me to her house, but I always decline. I love her family, I do. They're amazing but...

“I don't know...” I hear myself saying and watching as the first snowflake lands on my black naval coat. I take a drag of my own cigarette and relax as the smoke passes over my lips.

“You should.”

“I should what?”

“Know. It's been three years. Come home and enjoy the days with some family.” She's more insistent this year than in the past. She should be by all rights. I'd turned her down for three years running at this point.

“We'll see.” The silence in the air was dampened by the softly falling snow. She looked up at the sky and let the snowflakes fall on her ebony eyelashes. A smile passed over her lips and she stood in front of me, offering me a bony white hand.

“Let's go. I need to pack.” I looked her over for a moment and stood, finishing my cigarette. I took her hand.

“Yeah..." I knew that mischievous smile on her lips. I was either in trouble or about to have my things packed for me. The snow, however menacing it was to drivers, is what made me remember that one happy thing. Every time it snows, I have to smile. The crisp air, the faint memory of cinnamon and that smile... Something I'll never forget.

The Imagination and Inkwell Meets Here

I've been incredibly fortunate to meet so many fellow writers in the last year that have forsaken the trail more oft taken and blazed ahead to make a name for themselves. Some of them I still speak with and often commune with but some are far bigger than just themselves anymore, not leaving much time for anything else. But I digress. My ability to find amazingly creative individuals astounds me to this day, though seeing how often I frequent Barnes and Noble in Millbury, I probably shouldn't be shocked when I run into authors anymore.

However, beyond these amazingly successful professionals, the ones that really astound me are you all. The few that write in your free moments and keep trying. Not only do you inspire me, but you show me the persistence that still exists within our hearts' inkwells.

You are part of the reason that Kit and I started Inkwell so many months ago. Actually at this point it's been over a year. A year, one month and 10 days at the time of writing this. So happy birthday to Inkwell. We've made it through the first year!

It's been an interesting year, that's for sure. I've met so really creative individuals that have the story lines and the talent to carry them through it. Some need more help in the technical arena, but others have that and no story ideas. Wither way, you can do it. “You got this”, I'm fond of saying.

The purpose of the group is to help you through your writing ails and help you find your voice in the large expanse that is often less than helpful, and more often than not, fairly painful to navigate alone. So we all meet, sit, commiserate, and help each other through the veil hoping to at the end of a few meetings have something more palatable to the average reader, and perhaps an editor along the way.

The Brotherhood of the Quill and Inkwell is a strong one, as long as you know where to look. Even if you're not local to Inkwell, seek out writing groups in your area. If they're not what you're looking for, try another. At the very least, you'll meet another group of caffeine addicted oddballs that understand when you tell them the characters in your head are fighting for the white space of your blank page. They probably won't try to have you committed either.

Until next time,

Jessi

Another Piece of My Camp Project : In the Invasion

Outside the office building and the buildings of all the domed harbor city, the world had turned a murky gray green color. Ships hovered over the domes and the regal looking aliens took stock of the city. So many ships clouded the skies over the world that no one could see the stars as they approached at night. Aurona awoke to the unsettling sounds of concrete crumbling. She managed to stand though wobbly in her efforts. Her legs seemed to be collapsing beneath her... She looked around. Craig, the man with the red framed glasses was coming to, as she felt the building shift.

"Shit... Craig!" She lurched forward to grab him and reached for his hand. "Come on... We have to get out of here." Craig's head lolled to the side and came back around, focusing on Aurona.
"Aurona..." He said questioningly, his eyes forcing their own focus back. His glasses were missing, somewhere. He frowned and reached up for where Aurona's hand should have been. Aurona grabbed him and pulled him up, looking out the window. Not an option. She turned towards the stair well and pulled the still recovering man after her.

"Let's go!" She yelled, her own heart beginning to ran as they ran through the smoke filled building. Her body took over in adrenaline rush and took the stairs. Just a little more. Just a little more... she convinced herself and booked it out of the building, still dragging the six foot tall man behind her. She ran to the parking lot across the street and collapsed in the open area, taking a moment to catch her breath. Craig collapsed, throwing up about four feet away. His stomach was still not with him. She frowned, trying to hold her own bile back. "Stop it..." She groaned and managed to at last up looking at the building. The building she'd come to call a second home was now crumbling in front of her. The building was burning , chunks of it falling away at a time. Her hands went to her forehead as she forced herself to try to figure everything out. The sad truth was that none of it made any sense. She figured it never would either. She smiled, not knowing what else to do. She pulled her ell phone from her pocket and dialed her apartment. Craig was starting to come to, to the fullest extent of the word. His head was reeling and the nausea was beginning to clear up. His head started to settle, and the pain,... oh god the pain. He sat up and looked around, seeing Aurona sitting there, rapid fire typing numbers into her phone.

"Dammit."

"Aurona..."

"DAMMIT!" Aurona threw the phone and pulled herself up, going after it defeated at the childish outburst. "We have to get to my apartment."

"Don't you think there are more important things to get to... Oh... Eijin." He sighed and followed the raging little woman down the street. It was near two miles to her apartment but she wasn't showing any signs of stopping or even slowing down. Craig frowned and followed her. What the hell else was he going to do? He pulled out his own cell phone and started to dial to his own apartment, and then stopped realizing that the only one at his apartment was his cat. Time to call Mom... now if only he could see the numbers...

Aurona's brow furrowed and she squinted, forcing the oncoming tears away. She had to make sure Eijin was OK. Just make sure she was OK. Just be able to hold her. She took a deep breath and continued, looking behind her briefly to see if Craig was following or not. It really didn't matter to her, honestly. He was however, talking to someone on the phone. His own eyes looked flooded with tears. She turned away and started to run, she wouldn't be able to get there fast enough otherwise. She coughed after a minute or two and had to stop. All those years of smoking seemed to catch up with her all at once.

"Why the fuck did I ever think it was cool?" she growled and coughed heavily.

"Come on." Craig had caught up and was offering her his hand. Aurona frowned and shook her head, standing straight up again, forcing herself forward. The worst part about any of it, assuming you leave out that the world was just attacked; was that Craig was the one stuck with her at the end of the city. Out of all the people in the damned office building. Her voice was on the verge of breaking so she remained silent, in an effort to appear unphased.

The truth was that the girl was scared. Hell who wouldn't be? The woman had just seen her office building taken out like a pile of scrap paper. She frowned, standing and pointing towards her apartment.

"Let's just get there. I need to know Eiji is OK." Her statement trailed off as she remembered the fight from earlier. The ever persistent issue seemed so far away at his point. She frowned and walked forward. Craig nodded, a little put off by the kind gesture being so deftly dodged.

The building looked untouched, like a few around it. Just the signs of battle around the neighborhood, papers tossing in the wind, eerily like every bad scifi/horror movie ever produced. Aurona shuddered and looked up at their second floor apartment, the lights in their bedroom still on. She breathed a small sigh of relief and walked up to the entrance, pushing the front door open. The same gas smell that had filled the office, filled the hallway.

"Shit." She broke into a run up the stairs and looked on the open apartment door with dread. The baseball bat was missing from it's spot next to the refrigerator. Rushing into the apartment, she found nothing. Eiji was gone.

"What the fuck?!" Aurona pulled out her phone and dialed the woman’s cell one more time. The tin-y and unwelcoming voice of the automated operator picked up again. She pocketed the phone again and looked up to see Craig in her doorway, holding a baseball bat. She started and then realized it was the one that was next to the fridge this morning. "Where did you get that?" She said shocked at her own voice sounding so hoarse.

"It was on the balcony..."

Camp NaNo's Official Kick-off !!!!

After a long awaited and highly anticipated unveiling of the summer edition, Camp NaNoWriMo is here!!

Camp NaNo Official Site

Howdy, camper!

June 17, 2011

I hope you’ve had a chance to unload your pack, slip off your boots, and dip your toes in the lake of inspiration we’re overlooking here at Camp NaNoWriMo.

If not, there’s plenty of time to explore before we get down to writing our novels. The first camp session—and your novel—will begin at 12:00:01 AM on July 1. (And if you need a little more time, or you have multiple plots in mind, don't worry. We'll be open in August for a second novel-writing session with even more site features!)

That’s right. Two opportunities for high-velocity noveling... in a tent!

A few reminders as you enter the camp site:

1. Read the Help section (in the upper right hand corner of the site). It is full of tips on how the site works and information about where everything is.

2. This is Camp beta, and new sites always come with a little bugginess (and we’re not talking about mosquitoes here...). Just head over to the Tech Help and Bug Reports forum over on NaNoWriMo.org (Camp doesn't have its own forums) where there’s a designated Camp thread. See what others have already posted there, or chime in if you have an unreported bug.

3. Follow our new @CampNaNoWriMo Twitter feed for updates and more!

4. Have fun! And don’t forget to use plenty of sun screen while you’re tromping around camp.

Giddyup!

Lindsey

So You hear that? That's the sound of the campfires starting up and the stories being told. Starting July 1st, I'll be on the trail, and I hope you'll join me on this very exciting summer edition. If you don't want to join in july, why not august? So that's right. Three months this year, you can write your novels! Come join in the fun!

~Jessi

Inkwell Recap and A Call for Webinar Suggestions

Tonight at Inkwell was the usual critique circle with a discussion that happens once every couple of months. It's come to that time again, where I ask, what people want to learn about in reference to writing. Sadly, I have to report that it wasn't as fruitful as I'd have liked, but there were some solid ideas tossed around. Below is the list that was collected.

Creative writing exercises
Dialog vs. action
NaNo Preparation
Monsters and their creative applications as heroes
How to put the fake science into Science Fiction
How to make fantasy worlds more realistic
Genre night (genres in a hat and pick!)
Purgatory and writing exercises
Second person writing
Descriptions and Details: when to use them and when not to
Cliche avoidance
Character Creation Part 2
World Creation (Guest Speaker ?? potentially Kit)
Poetry (Guest Speaker ??)
Defining Your Muse
6 word stories...
Writers Tool Kit (game)
Music Nights
First Sentences: Writing exercise and talk about the importance of
Updated 6/20
Timing and Events
Transitions
Romance Night: How to add romance and smut into your writing
Magical Applications in Modern Fantasy

This is the preliminary list that will be weeded through. However, I'm opening this up to you, my loyal readers. What would you like to see in the webinars? Do you find them helpful or a nuisance?

Oh! Also, Camp NaNo is around the corner and as part of the experience I'll be tossing up vignettes (thus increasing my word count on the project) of characters in my Nightmare Realm/Dreamscape project that a decent number of people are interested in. You'll first be introduced to the leads starting on Wednesday, so keep your eyes peeled! (Disclaimer: Anything I write prior to the start of Camp NaNo has no bearing on my word count but will help me flesh out the world I recently tore apart and am rebuilding)

Cheers,
Jessi

Monday's Writing Prompt and a Query

Welp, It's Tuesday. Needless to say, yesterdays post didn't get up there when it was supposed to, so let's get right down to it.

Weekly Writing Prompt

Imagine your character has gone his/her/it's entire life in a city or other such settlement, where the expansive aspects of nature (such as a forest, an actual open field, or long beach front removed from the world) hasn't touched their lives. Take them from their familiar settlement and bring them out into the forest. How does your character react? Is there a feeling of relief, anxiety, or perhaps repulsion? Do they regain the sense of wonder that they once had as children? Do you they become annoyed with the lack of amenities and the bugs?

What you do with your character is up to you, the exercise is meant to explore something that is truly unknown to your character but familiar to you. Take a second look at the familiar and see something you didn't before.

Query to My Readers

The idea of starting a continuous series of flash fiction peices is not a new one, in fact one that my close friend, Kit over at Goggles and Lace, specifically referring to her Letters from Blackford Hill series. After tossing around the idea with her, to make sure I wasn't stepping on her toes, I began thinking that part of my activity for Camp NaNo will be doing some vignettes from my current project which I'm temporarily reffering to as the Nightmare Realm. Would you be interested in seeing those character vignettes? If not, what do you want to see?

So post your comments below!

Namaste,
Jessi

Just a Quick Thank You and a Poem

I just wanted to say a quick thank you to my readers. You guys have made it a record setting month for blog traffic (even beating out the November with all my NaNo related posts!). I can't say 'Thank you' enough! I truly appreciate your readership and look forward to more feedback. Surprises are in store for June, so just hold on and stay tuned!

There will be a writing challenge up for the week in lieu of an Inkwell recap, given tomorrow is Memorial Day, and we're not meeting. With that in mind, below is a poem on the holiday. Take a second and read it over if you have the time.

Until later,
Jessi

For Our Troops
© 2007 Brooke O'Neill Emery

MEMORIAL DAY, 2007

FOR OUR TROOPS (both past and present, but particularly in Iraq and Afghanistan at present)

Though I don't know your name
And I have never seen your face
I shed tears for you.

Though my memories don't contain a time
We shared together
I miss you.

Though we are not related
You are in my thoughts.

When I'm eating, or taking a shower, or doing housework,
I think of you, knowing how much you wish you could be at home,
Your stomach full, doing mundane chores such as cleaning your house,
Clean from a fresh shower.

Though you are at terrible risk, and perhaps may not survive,
You are NEVER ALONE, and will always be alive
If only in our spirits, hopes and memories, our dreams for your future.

There are MILLIONS of people praying for you tonight
And throughout the day.

Praying for your safely and return as a whole person
In mind, body and spirit.

We are crying because we know. We know you are scared, and lonely.
And that you'd give anything to see your family, to hug you mother, father.
Your child, sister, brother, aunt, uncle.

To be showered with love and comfort,
Instead of sand and shrapnel.

We long for you too, with an ache so desperate as to make us insane.
To touch your face, see your smile; share your laughter and your tears.

We love you so much soldiers, you cannot know. You cannot fathom the swelling of pride in our chest as we think of you.
Of your courage and your sacrifice, the hope that you can come home soon.

And those that have returned, we have not forgotten you; you are in our prayers,
That you may recover from your experience and be healed.

No matter what anyone says, not matter the reason you are there,
You are a UNITED STATES SOLDIER, and you make us PROUD!!
Every day for that beautiful flag, for our great fortune to be Americans.

There are no politics, no scandals, no mistakes, NOTHING, which can diminish the sentiment we have for you.
And even as democracy permits free speech, as it should, which some may use to make judgments or cast aspersions,
Remember always, we know you'd rather be on the couch debating it with us than spending your days trying just to stay alive.

Let no "freedom of speech' EVER make you doubt the American people's faith in and love for you.
We are PROUD!

I've never met you, but I want you to know that I love you.
I'm praying for you.
I honor you.
I'm waiting for your return.

On this Memorial Day, 2007, and every day,
Please know that you are being though of.
WE MISS YOU.
GOD BLESS YOU and keep you until the day we can celebrate face to face.

A Crow Came and Sat at My Window: Writing Challenge from Goggles and Lace

I sat quietly starring out my window, the morning sun just peeking out over the trees across the street. I sighed and picked up my coffee, hoping today would be easier. I cracked my neck and looked towards the computer screen, watching the emails filter into my inbox. A flutter of wings and my attention is drawn back to a more traditional window. A large, black crow sat placidly on the window sill, seeming to watch me as I watched him. I'd always heard that crows were hyper intelligent, and this one seemed to be observing some form of lesser species out of curiosity. I gripped my coffee cup as I stood slowly, walking towards the window. The bird didn't move.

“Hello.” I said softly and watched the birds movements. He was calm, merely shaking out his wings before tucking them back at his sides. I stopped at the coffee table and picked up a couple of nuts, walking forward just a couple more steps. The bird watched, turning it's head to the side and looked at my hand. I placed the nuts down further on the window sill and backed up, taking a seat on the edge of the coffee table. The bird hopped over to the nuts and inspected them, picking one up with it's beak to eat it.

“Hello Madam” I swore I had simply lost my mind, and now I felt myself staring at the shiny black beast, jaw slack. “Please it's rude to stare”

“I'm... I'm sorry.” I said and closed my mouth. I picked up my mug and took a sip while the bird finished the nuts, and hopped over to the edge, staring at me.

“Where to begin...” The bird mused, A voice scratchier and higher pitched than I would have ever imagined from such an elegant looking bird.

“At the beginning I would imagine” I said, still disbelieving of the fact that I was having a conversation with a crow.

“What about the end?”

“Why would you begin at the end?” The bird seemed to chuckle and look out the window, before looking back to me.

“Wouldn't you like to know...” The bird's eyes seemed to sparkle with mischief as I leaned forward, hoping it would end well. I've always liked a happy ending...

The Matter of Baldness and Illegal Magicks...

The sun beat down of Alleige's capital, Kenishka. The temperatures had risen well into the upper 90's prompting most to either cover themselves completely or start the stripping process. While none of this was terribly remarkable, there was a commotion going on in the marketplace, surrounding one man, pushing his way through the crowd, in some haste. He looked most unremarkable. A dark brown robe, pulled tightly around him, a hand obscuring his face as he held his hood in place. He stopped in front of a plain brown, worn door, somewhere in the middle of the street. A couple of seconds worth of examining left him with the distinct impression he was here. Wherever here was. He grasped the door knob and jumped backwards, into the street.

“Watch out!” He screamed as he fell, knocking over a woman with a fruit basket. The orange fruit flew up into the air and several landed on the man as he got up, tossing a few coins onto the ground at the woman. He grabbed his hood, throwing it back up around his head. The door opened slightly and the man rushed inside.

Stepping into the shop was something like stepping into another world. Du-dads and thing-a-ma-bobs hung from every conceivable point of the ceiling. Small jars with unrecognizable herbs and dried animal parts lined the walls. The shop itself smelled of sandalwood and citrus, leaving an inviting fragrance hanging in the air, despite the appearance. The man looked around, poking what appeared to be a vial with rat eyes in it. The via swung back and forth gently as an older gentleman with piercing blue eyes came out from behind a tapestry.

“What can I do for you today, sir?” The smile the blue eyed man wore was more of mockery than a genuine interest in the customer. His eyes scanned the man and shook his head.

“Yes I as looking for something to help with... well... my hair.” The customer pulled his hood down to reveal his hairline.

“What hair?” The wizard couldn't help but let the mocking smile widen as he examined the man. His hairline had retreated to the back of his head, leaving a shiny, sunburned scalp.

“Yes.” The customer frowned and looked about the shop. “There in would be the issue. Can you help me?”

“Of course. The question is, whether or not you can afford it.”

“Money isn't an issue.”

“It never is, is it? You have no idea how many high powered officials come through here looking for cures, when three days before I was under threat of being shut down for unlawful magical practices. Isn't that right, Magistrate DiZara?” It was hard for the wizard to take the little man with the baldness issue seriously, and now his blood was boiling, after realizing who the man was.

“I've revoked the paperwork, what more do you want me to do Malakai?” Magistrate DiZara frowned. He always did find it ironic when he went seeking out these back alley wizards to fix his personal issues. His job was to keep the Order, well in order, bringing the illegally operating wizards to the courts to answer for their missteps.

“Don't make up false accusations to shut down a business started with the Order's approval.” He snarled, blue sparks emanating from the wizards hands. The Magistrate, backed up two steps, nearing the door, breath quickened. Malakai laughed heartily, satisfied in seeing the little mans fear.

“That will do.” He grinned and steeped behind a bench, holding out his now sparkless hand to the Magistrate. “I'll need a sample of your hair.”

“Right...” DiZara gulped and stepped cautiously towards the wizard. Malakai pulled a straight razor from the bench and in one quick flourish cut a piece from the side of DiZara's head. He took the hairs and placed them in the bottom of a glass beaker, going about the shop, pulling ingredients off the walls and from closets that DiZara hadn't even noticed before. Doors from nowhere, leading to an empty whole seemingly erected from the fabric of space and time itself, appeared and disappeared at the casters' will. An armful of vials and jars later, he began measuring and gestured for DiZara to wander off for now. The magistrate frowned and nodded, scrunching up his already wrinkled and stress-ridden face. His hair was the only thing he wanted. That was it. It wasn't too much to ask as it? He sat down on a chair made from animal skins, of unknown origin.

“You know, I don't understand you people and your vanity.” The wizard scoffed from behind the work bench.

“You wouldn't. You're beautiful. Leave it to us that -have- to worry about our looks to do so, please.” DiZara scoffed.

“You don't think that there are other things you should be concerned about?”

“Don't think that just because I'm vain...”

“Well you are here in the middle of the work day, Magistrate.” The magistrate sat silent as the accusation hung in the air. Malakai continued. “Besides ignorance, vanity is one of the biggest downfalls of society, don't you agree? Ah, but you suffer from both. Why would you be able to see that?” His rambling had become nothing more than rumblings in the background for DiZara. He dozed, letting a small snore escape before snapping himself back awake. Malakai frowned and added the final couple of ingredients to the potion.

“Here.” Malakai thrust the bottle into the Magistrate's sleepy hands. “100 gold.”

“Fine...” DiZara pulled out a small coin purse and handed it to Malakai. He weighed it and nodded, opening it up to see the glittering pieces.

“What do I do with it?”

“Drink it. If you want to sustain it's effects, you'll have to come back every moon cycle to get another dosage. Otherwise people may start to wonder. Also the effects are gradual. You won't have a full head of hair tomorrow. Mostly to avoid suspicion. You wouldn't want people thinking that you were using body modifying spells and potions, now then would you?” Malakai's eyes narrowed at DiZara, the blue slits practically damning the little man for his actions. DiZara frowned and nodded, fingering the bottle's lip nervously. He tilted it back against his lips, and pour the liquid down his throat, pulling the bottle back in disgust. It tasted awful, but then again he wasn't looking for some refreshing beverage from the wizards shop. He scratched his head frowning.

“Good day Magistrate.” The wizard said, opening the door back out onto the busy market. The magistrate pulled his hood back up and disappeared into the crowd.

Camp NaNoWriMo and Some Other NaNo Info

I know, I know. Thursday isn't on the normal update schedule. But this bears the extra post for the week.

The Offices of Letters and Light has decided to run a summer program for NaNoWrimo! It's called Camp NaNo and for those of you that are usually swamped with finals and the like during November, this is perfect for. Also perfect for those that aim for two novels a year! Well really, it's perfect for anyone with a mild writing obsession. And it's more excuse for me to send out emails encouraging you all to keep on writing!

Camp NaNoWriMo from the Desk of the OLL

Greetings, Wrimos!

If you're holding hot coffee, I'd recommend you put it down. If you're standing, please sit.

I have potentially explosive news: we're launching Camp NaNoWriMo this summer! As in, mere months from this very moment!

Some of you may be wondering, "What is this camp you speak of? Will there be mosquitoes?"

This camp-themed version of National Novel Writing Month enables participants to write a novel in a month other than November. You bring the words and we'll meet you there with the encouragement, tracking tools, and a tent!

For everyone who has ever wanted to do NaNo multiple times a year—or for those who simply can't make a November novel work—welcome to Camp NaNoWriMo! The plot bunnies will frolic, the sun will warm your half-baked plot, and yes... there will probably be mosquitoes.

To pay for all these building materials, we're holding a summer fundraising drive starting May 25. More awesome goodies at more levels than ever before! (Two words: bumper sticker. For the first time in NaNo history!)

Stay tuned for more camp news and details about the upcoming fundraiser. In the meantime, I've still got some canoes to hollow out.

The fundraiser is a pretty big here. Once again even if you participate in Camp, YOU DO NOT have to donate. I know how poor we all are and I won't tell you that you have to, ever. If you feel the need to do so, have at it. That being said, as soon as I know more about Camp NaNo I'll be posting it here, and organizing little writing exercises and games to run through the program so keep a heads up on that. What kind of ML would I be without helping orchestrate the madness?

Offers still valid from NaNo 2010

Did you win NaNoWriMo? Congrats! you have some offers that are still valid if you did, so go on over to NaNo Winners and check it out. You have until June 30th to collect your CreateSpace proof copy of your NaNo masterpiece. Also available is a 50% off deal on Scrivner, which helps with planning, note keeping, and generally awesome organizational software. It's not only for Mac users anymore! There is an open beta test for Windows, so check it out, before you dive in and buy it. You will have to be logged in with your winning ID to collect the codes, so keep that in mind when licking the link.

First Writing Challenge

Camp NaNo hasn't started yet, but this be your first official 'task' for the summer writing season. C'mon! Play along. If you have a blog, post your link to your entry in the comments section and I'll happily link you, advertising on my social media for every entry. So without further ado...

This particular writing exercise is from Writing Excuses, a great blog I follow on a weekly basis. They have great prompts and podcasts to keep the creative juices flowing.

Writing Prompt: Start with a highly magical, pseudo-medieval fantasy setting. Now… how do you deal with baldness?

Enjoy, and keep checking back for NaNoWriMo news as the details are revealed!

Namaste,
Jessi