Well, work faster, dagnabbit!neandermagnon, I'm glad you like the little snippets of CHERRY. As for availability and all that: I'ze working on it.
Favorite lines you've written
- Thread starter Charlie Horse
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- Joined
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As anyone who knows me will know, I love inane conversations ... (From a WIP)
“[FONT=Verdana, sans-serif]Marco's going to phone his friend. Harry the Hacker.”[/FONT]
“[FONT=Verdana, sans-serif]His name is Harry? That's well fortunate.”[/FONT]
“[FONT=Verdana, sans-serif]Wouldn't be the same if he was called Bob, would it?”[/FONT]
“[FONT=Verdana, sans-serif]No, it would be shit. Jeremy too. And Susan.”[/FONT]
“[FONT=Verdana, sans-serif]Marco's going to phone his friend. Harry the Hacker.”[/FONT]
“[FONT=Verdana, sans-serif]His name is Harry? That's well fortunate.”[/FONT]
“[FONT=Verdana, sans-serif]Wouldn't be the same if he was called Bob, would it?”[/FONT]
“[FONT=Verdana, sans-serif]No, it would be shit. Jeremy too. And Susan.”[/FONT]
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Just a few I liked from this week.
James watched her. She was a little spacey from the drink, but suddenly didn't look so intimidating. Only a girl, scared and alone. He doubted she would look so on the morrow, but for now, he savored the moment. He wanted to hold her tight in his arms, and whisper that everything would be alright. He didn't.
----
"You should find a spot," James said.
"I'm good."
James gave him a quizzical look.
"Would you rather me get Luke to watch your back?"
"Good point." James lit two smokes and handed one to Piers.
"Shit," Piers pinched the end and tossed it on the ground. He pulled out two small dark rolled ones from his brown and gold buttoned vest pocket. "Got a few of these from Samantha few weeks back, from their premium crop." He handed one to James. "Destined for the Uppercity... yet here they are, just sitting in my pocket." He smirked and lit 'em up.
"Should've waited till it's over," James said, taking one of the smokes anyways.
"Naaah, dead men can't smoke."
James grinned and inhaled. It was sweet, smooth, a good burn. Not like the usual junk that hit your lungs like burning coal. "Gonna be a long night Piers."
"Could be a short one," Piers mumbled.
"Lets hope not."
James watched her. She was a little spacey from the drink, but suddenly didn't look so intimidating. Only a girl, scared and alone. He doubted she would look so on the morrow, but for now, he savored the moment. He wanted to hold her tight in his arms, and whisper that everything would be alright. He didn't.
----
"You should find a spot," James said.
"I'm good."
James gave him a quizzical look.
"Would you rather me get Luke to watch your back?"
"Good point." James lit two smokes and handed one to Piers.
"Shit," Piers pinched the end and tossed it on the ground. He pulled out two small dark rolled ones from his brown and gold buttoned vest pocket. "Got a few of these from Samantha few weeks back, from their premium crop." He handed one to James. "Destined for the Uppercity... yet here they are, just sitting in my pocket." He smirked and lit 'em up.
"Should've waited till it's over," James said, taking one of the smokes anyways.
"Naaah, dead men can't smoke."
James grinned and inhaled. It was sweet, smooth, a good burn. Not like the usual junk that hit your lungs like burning coal. "Gonna be a long night Piers."
"Could be a short one," Piers mumbled.
"Lets hope not."
Greg, I like the change in the voice between the first and second segments. And the dialogue is good!
This scene in my WIP is a favorite of mine. It is much longer... this is the end of a bigger scene. I like that it has a disjoint were Jonathan starts to talk about Joe and Ben but then switches to the woman he is with and the bartender as the topic of discussion. I also like that she doesn't introduce herself. This is a romance and this is the first scene the two are actually speaking to each other.
“You watch chick flicks?” (She said... implied therefore not written.)
Jonathan leaned toward her and said softly, “don’t tell anyone.”
“So, under that tough exterior, you’re a softy?”
He put a rumble in his voice to sound stern even though he was enjoying the conversation immensely. “A softy?”
She nodded, “yes, a softy.”
Jonathan decided it was time to switch gears. “I notice you didn’t tell me your name.”
“I didn’t?” She took a sip of her drink.
The back door to the bar opened and one of the local man walked in with a woman Jonathan didn’t recognize. The woman stood just in from the door, looked in their direction, turned around, and left. Her date yelled, “where’re you going” following her out.
Jonathan watched the woman next to him reach into her purse, pull out the small notebook and write something briefly. “You have the same effect on certain women as you did on Joe and Ben when I saw you the other day.”
“Whatever you do you mean?”
“That standoff with the bartender reminded me of an old west movie. Except of course the first one who moved, lost.”
“He only lost a little of his pride. He had plenty to spare.”
“Well, I’d say that although you look nicely soft on the outside, there’s a toughie on the inside.”
She laughed as she pulled a 10 dollar bill out of her purse and stood. She walked down to the end of the bar and handed the bill to Becky, gesturing toward Jonathan. She then stepped out the back door.
“You watch chick flicks?” (She said... implied therefore not written.)
Jonathan leaned toward her and said softly, “don’t tell anyone.”
“So, under that tough exterior, you’re a softy?”
He put a rumble in his voice to sound stern even though he was enjoying the conversation immensely. “A softy?”
She nodded, “yes, a softy.”
Jonathan decided it was time to switch gears. “I notice you didn’t tell me your name.”
“I didn’t?” She took a sip of her drink.
The back door to the bar opened and one of the local man walked in with a woman Jonathan didn’t recognize. The woman stood just in from the door, looked in their direction, turned around, and left. Her date yelled, “where’re you going” following her out.
Jonathan watched the woman next to him reach into her purse, pull out the small notebook and write something briefly. “You have the same effect on certain women as you did on Joe and Ben when I saw you the other day.”
“Whatever you do you mean?”
“That standoff with the bartender reminded me of an old west movie. Except of course the first one who moved, lost.”
“He only lost a little of his pride. He had plenty to spare.”
“Well, I’d say that although you look nicely soft on the outside, there’s a toughie on the inside.”
She laughed as she pulled a 10 dollar bill out of her purse and stood. She walked down to the end of the bar and handed the bill to Becky, gesturing toward Jonathan. She then stepped out the back door.
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This conversation is taken over word for word from my old job:
“Fuzzy, dear Fuzzy,” Oren sang.
Nadir raised an eyebrow at the gleeful grin on his manager's face. He silently counted down.
Oren grabbed Nadir's shoulders and sat him down on a stack of kitty litter. Three.
“Fuzzy, you hungry, bro?” Two.
“Umm... Kind of.” One.
“Wanna eat my dick?” Boom.
“Fuzzy, dear Fuzzy,” Oren sang.
Nadir raised an eyebrow at the gleeful grin on his manager's face. He silently counted down.
Oren grabbed Nadir's shoulders and sat him down on a stack of kitty litter. Three.
“Fuzzy, you hungry, bro?” Two.
“Umm... Kind of.” One.
“Wanna eat my dick?” Boom.
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Isn't that kinda fair?
From page 126, all about circumcision:
"Orli said she couldn't stand, I quote, the goopy Petri dish of doom that is the uncut shniedel.”
Ameer gaped at his friend. “Goopy Petri dish? Of doom?”
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Needed a break from editing the finished manuscript, so I opened my WIP that suffered the fatal corruption incident which shall not be named. Had a good conversation with a writer friend last night that got me thinking on this one again (it's the first in a paranormal romance series).
I know this is a little long, but I grin every time I read this scene between Stasia and Wesson:
I know this is a little long, but I grin every time I read this scene between Stasia and Wesson:
Enjoyed this a lot! Always fascinating to discover these interesting quirks about our characters, isn't it?
"MF. YES. SOME BACKGROUND MAY BE NECESSARY. AS OF FIVE MINUTES AGO THE SLAUGHTERHOUSE NINE ARE NOW THE BUTCHER SHOP TWO." The mask tilted as Dire considered. "PROBABLY GONNA GO DOWN TO THE HOT DOG STAND ONE BEFORE THE DAY'S OUT."
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This is a bit from the m/s I just sent back to my publisher:
The car moved, and I moved with it. Me and dad. The beach threw surfers into the air and down to the bed. People disguised as coloured umbrellas and children learning not to get caught in the rip. In a second, there it was: Number 28. Not a house at all. An empty block and cyclone fencing. Dad pulled over. We looked at the block. We looked at the road. I looked at his sagging folds of face. I looked and didn't breathe. Looked at the empty block with knee-high grass. Looked at the empty block without doors or windows or telephones. Looked at the empty block without me and dad and mum and Fleur and Gran and the ambulance. Looked at dad with his Bassett Hound jaw.
'It's gone,' he said.
Looked at the crack in the sky where she kept pouring through.
The car moved, and I moved with it. Me and dad. The beach threw surfers into the air and down to the bed. People disguised as coloured umbrellas and children learning not to get caught in the rip. In a second, there it was: Number 28. Not a house at all. An empty block and cyclone fencing. Dad pulled over. We looked at the block. We looked at the road. I looked at his sagging folds of face. I looked and didn't breathe. Looked at the empty block with knee-high grass. Looked at the empty block without doors or windows or telephones. Looked at the empty block without me and dad and mum and Fleur and Gran and the ambulance. Looked at dad with his Bassett Hound jaw.
'It's gone,' he said.
Looked at the crack in the sky where she kept pouring through.
Hey look everybody, Anna is back with another great one!
The change of pace in the last two lines is great.
Bassett Hound jaw - wow, so vivid.
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There's so much interesting going on there!
Here's the thing that I have written that is currently cracking me up for no good reason:
A vampire living in a trailer. Now, that's not something you see every day. I don't usually go for vampire stories, but I'd check that out.
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This is funny. And the character's ordinaryness is appealing. Goth vampires, haha!
Protip from a longtime dweller in a trailer in the desert: white roof paint will cut the interior temp by as much as 20 degrees!
I never thought I'd write a vampire story but apparently I'm surprising myself with this one. *grin*
This is based on my great-grandmother's trailer in Lake City, Florida -- it had a white roof but it was also limited to a single window unit AC in the living room and once you were in the bedroom in the back, well. There's only so much a box fan can accomplish. *laugh*
I need to go take some pictures of the old "neighborhood" to use as inspiration for this story.
Antsy antsy antsy. The Bear's Wife starts to publish tomorrow. White-knuckling it with crazy hopes of having a hit, while simultaneously reminding myself of how disappointing other book launches have been. Please please please let this at least generate gin money to fuel the next one.
/////
Nick squatted beside the house to feel beneath the bricks that formed its back stoop. There was practically no light; the houses were four stories tall, with lines of washing strung between, which almost entirely obscured the moon and starlight. Still, the windows across the way looked down on us. I watched them in mute resignation.
“Daagh!” Nick scattled away from the steps and hit his back on the yard’s wall. A tiny shadow squeaked and scampered away. “Vicious wee bastard bit me!”
“Cannot blame him,” Flint said. “Fingered his wee wifey, did you? Is she well-favored?”
“Aye, but too small to take me.” Nick thrust his hand under the steps again.
/////
Nick squatted beside the house to feel beneath the bricks that formed its back stoop. There was practically no light; the houses were four stories tall, with lines of washing strung between, which almost entirely obscured the moon and starlight. Still, the windows across the way looked down on us. I watched them in mute resignation.
“Daagh!” Nick scattled away from the steps and hit his back on the yard’s wall. A tiny shadow squeaked and scampered away. “Vicious wee bastard bit me!”
“Cannot blame him,” Flint said. “Fingered his wee wifey, did you? Is she well-favored?”
“Aye, but too small to take me.” Nick thrust his hand under the steps again.
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