Favorite line you've written

Rebekah7 · Jul 1, 2009

Here's some:

“Mosi, this man has enough problems without you causing more. If you want to heckle a stranger, just head over to the trading tents. The nomads are used to you by now.”

“Hey, he’s the one who started this,” Mosa said.

“His brain is half fried from the sun and he just lost most of his life. What’s your excuse?”

And some more:

“He fell off the bed. What? I have more important things to do than wrestle with a six foot tall man. It’s not like the floor’s going kill him.”

Charlie Horse · Jul 2, 2009

Fresh stuff from this morning's work:

And the boy—the catalyst for this mayhem—showing the emotion of a refrigerator or some other household appliance, seemed to have an endless supply of death stashed in his bulky jacket. One weapon emptied, he pulled out another and continued his assault. Harv screamed, but as with his legs, the sound from his mouth malfunctioned, dying in the chamber of death insulated with unthinkable terror.

Cyia · Jul 2, 2009

Character introduction from the Book out on query. (The character's being observed on a security camera)

"Are those Cavalli jeans?" Jean leaned forward.

"They are indeed."

The stranger's clothes, while as "scruffy" as implied, added another layer of interest. They were mangled, but all designer labels. Her jeans alone cost four hundred dollars before she put them through whatever paper shredder she used to redesign them. Her shoes added another couple of hundred to the total and the dingy backpack over her shoulder another hundred after that.

"That's just... wrong. What did she do to them?"

"A very good question."

All told, the elusive Miss Doe was wearing well over a thousand dollars worth of high end merchandise made to look like trash. It was a costume, camouflage - just like the rest of her appearance, he suspected.

year90ninezero · Jul 2, 2009

The end of my last completed novel. I'm really excited for when I get through with my first edit and get to experience this final scene again.

Even as the sun finally broke over the shoulder of the mountain Tad shivered as she imagined snow, and the expanse of the desolate continent that they would need to cross. There would be little comfort on the journey, and fewer friends. But she could do without those.

Tad took Darling's good arm in hers. Darling smiled at Tad and closed her eyes. Tad could see lines in her face, the gray in her hair, creases in her cream colored eyelids. She had not realized how old Darling looked. Tad sniffed back tears and cleared her throat.

"Elle," Tad shook Darling's arm. She had looked like she was about to fall asleep standing up.

"Mm? Yes Tad?"

"We should prepare for the cold," she said.

WriteOn85 · Jul 3, 2009

Doing Lines at AW (or You Shall Not Passage)

Since my novel is a WIP, I don't have that many good lines yet. I do have two lines (or rather, passages), both from chapter two ("Fair Shares and Crullers"), which is told by Brooke's police detective partner, Chris Bussler:

Passage one:

Brooke and I stepped inside Rumler’s office. Gail, 40ish and rail-thin, with frizzy, graying blond hair and dark eyes caked with mascara (now smeared from tears and blotting), wearing a cranberry and black pantsuit, stood up to hug us both.
“Thank you,” Gail mumbled as she buried her weepy face into my chest. She pulled her face up, leaving a runny trail of eyeliner and tears on my shirt.
“Sorry,” she chuckled through her tears, “I’m just so happy. My daughter’s back, that bastard who took her is locked up, and I have you two to thank.”
That’s when a high-pitched, near-cynical, laugh/cough escaped Brooke’s lips. An awkward silence fell as Brooke brought a hand to her lips and coughed again to cover it.
“Sorry, Chief. Slight cold,” Brooke apologized, her eyes briefly meeting mine as she said, “cold”.
“Uh, yes,” Rumler said to Gail, “There’s a bug going around and Detectives Bussler and Cheseria have been working tirelessly.”
“And it was very much worth it in the end,” Brooke cheerily added, “after all, we at the 105th are firm believers in teamwork.”
Another slice of ham from Brooke Cheseria, I thought, burying my face in my hands.
“He’s just being modest,” Brooke assured Gail and Chief Rumler.

Passage two:

Sometime after lunch, I found Brooke at her desk, shuffling through some files. On Brooke’s desk next to the paper input/output basket was a box of doughnuts. I slipped my hand inside in the hopes of getting a snack…and met with air as Brooke swiped the box from me.
“I’m saving that cruller,” Brooke said.
“For who?” I retorted.
“Me. I haven’t had anything to eat since last night, except those breadsticks,” Brooke answered.
“Well, I haven’t eaten since last night either,” I countered.
“What about when we were in Chief Rumler’s office? You ate crow.”

Sary · Jul 3, 2009

My “should we keep the puppy” scale tips back past “no” and lands somewhere in the vicinity of “dog pound.”

beckykw · Jul 3, 2009

I have many favorite lines from my current WIP. Here are some random ones from different parts of the book:

I inhaled and exhaled and the cold air cleared my spinning head. He was getting to me—this criminal, this beast. He was a monster. He killed people and wanted me to do the same. He tossed common sense and law out the window like he were God and all the rest of us were below him. I hated him.

What frightened and angered me the most was how I almost agreed with him. His lack of sense was making sense.

I glared at the stairs and with trembling legs, I stood straight and fled in the opposite direction.

Fuck him.

Either I was about to die a horrible death or we were both about to put on the performance of our lifetimes. I bit the inside of my lip and prayed.

“Perhaps I mis-thought then,” he replied, turning back to me. His voice was icy cold. I shivered.

“Yeah, now, there’s some brain action,” I said with dripping sarcasm. “Good job, Bic Lighter.”

I turned back around and walked towards the door. I reached it quickly, even without stepping into the Flow. I paused, waiting to hear someone coming after me. No one did. I took a small breath, bracing myself for the finale of the first act of the plan, and I stepped out of the house, into the night, praying quietly that someday, I’d be able to walk back in.

Swordswoman · Jul 3, 2009

I really like this, year90ninezero:

Even as the sun finally broke over the shoulder of the mountain Tad shivered as she imagined snow, and the expanse of the desolate continent that they would need to cross. There would be little comfort on the journey, and fewer friends. But she could do without those.

Tad took Darling's good arm in hers. Darling smiled at Tad and closed her eyes. Tad could see lines in her face, the gray in her hair, creases in her cream colored eyelids. She had not realized how old Darling looked. Tad sniffed back tears and cleared her throat.

"Elle," Tad shook Darling's arm. She had looked like she was about to fall asleep standing up.

"Mm? Yes Tad?"

"We should prepare for the cold," she said.

It seems so simple, but has a real post-apocalyptic feel, of an uncertain future faced with courage and love. OK, there's too many repetitions of the names for my personal taste, but it gives me a little shiver in a really good way.
It makes me want to read the rest.

Louise

PattiTheWicked · Jul 3, 2009

From one of my WIPs, in which the main character is talking about her former husband.

Lucia paused, her spoon in mid-air. “You got a divorce because of a problem with the neighbors?” she asked incredulously.
I nodded, nibbling a bite of toast.
“My goodness. It must have been a rather dramatic problem. What was wrong with your neighbors?” Lucia leaned forward eagerly, eyes wide.
“Well,” I said, licking jam from my fingertips daintily, “my husband couldn’t seem to keep his penis out of them. Pass the trout, please.”

xXFireSpiritXx · Jul 3, 2009

From my current work in progress, SNOW'S BLOOD:

Everyone believes they know my story. Poor Snow White, whose evil witch mother tried to have a hunter carve her heart out and then poison her with an apple. Her only sanctuary found in the home of the seven kind dwarfs.
Bullshit. All of it. The evil mother part they got right, but she was more like a drunk Joan Collins from Mommy Dearest. Too much make up, not enough plastic surgery, and an unhealthy infatuation for wire hangers.

Another:

Pulling my black trench around me, I marched toward the golden lights of the tavern in the distance. The cobblestone road not making the trip easy in my six inch heels. Why the fuck do all fantasy worlds have to have roads made of cobble? And what exactly is cobble anyway? Christ. You would think with all the technological advancements today we could at least get pavement. Hell, I'd even take dirt.

And just a few more:

Of course this was all a pick up line which led to an acid trip followed by six hours of rigorous airborne sex.

The strippers were grinding on their poles with great enthusiasm. I still hadn't figured out without thongs where they stashed their cash. A blond one wearing a tiara and a tattoo on her back reading “Cinders are for Saps” strutted past me, several bills sticking out of her ass crack. Well that answered my question.

AuburnAssassin · Jul 3, 2009

From my Summer Challenge and 2nd WIP:

I loudly plopped my purse down in my cubicle and slipped off my jacket. I sang along to a slow, elevator music version of Billy Idol’s Rebel Yell. I never understood why my firm thought it was a good idea to pipe in such abominable background music.

I was all bravado. It bugged the crap out of me that he had lied about his lunch plans. She didn’t look like an errand to me. I felt a pang of jealousy. From what I could see and imagine, this woman was a Victoria's Secret model with a day job as an investment banker. She was very tall and voluptuous, exotic looking with dark eyes and long dark hair, almost the exact opposite of me. Her suit hugged all her curves in all the right places. If I were a man or a lesbian, my tongue would have been hanging out, scratch that, it was hanging out. She and Jon were a stunning couple.

year90ninezero · Jul 4, 2009

Swordswoman said:
I really like this, year90ninezero:

It seems so simple, but has a real post-apocalyptic feel, of an uncertain future faced with courage and love. OK, there's too many repetitions of the names for my personal taste, but it gives me a little shiver in a really good way.
It makes me want to read the rest.

Louise

Thanks, Louise, much appreciated. I think your reaction is exactly what I was going for. As far as the names, I probably would clean that up in an edit, which is why I so can't wait to get there. (I'm one of those that revises straight through, otherwise I'd spend more time on my 'favorite' parts and neglect those that need the most work!)

Ken Schneider · Jul 4, 2009

Death will take me I know. But, he'll get a black eye doing it.

dgrintalis · Jul 4, 2009

From my current WIP, Into the Grey:

Mark nodded, but the doctor’s words flowed over him like a trail of smoke. Smoke from the afterburn.

One word.

Cancer.

But better than grey. A thousand times better than grey.

The smell curled around him, like a woman’s arms. A woman who wore the tattered black rags of a burial shroud. She gathered him up along with the rest and poured her foul perfume on his skin.

From my recently completed WIP, Ink:

Two beers later, Jason was riding the happy train wreck of intoxication. He couldn’t quite follow the conversation anymore, but it didn’t seem to matter. All was right in his world. No more Shelley.

Sailor handed him a business card. Jason tried to read it but his eyes wouldn’t focus on the lettering. He was well on his way to pukedom. Long live the king.

Sailor had plenty of skins, but there was always room for one more.

imagoodgurl4 · Jul 5, 2009

From my current WIP:

"You need me naked to mow your lawn?" It wasn't that he had a problem with her seeing him naked. But she'd sure as hell have to return the favor.

And another that I liked:

Sheriff Angela Dwyer cursed the syrupy August heat as she exited her cruiser. She longed to be in her air-conditioned home, enjoying a quiet dinner with her husband. God, how nice it would be to eat something that didn't originate from a vending machine.

superman skivvies · Jul 5, 2009

Someone threw a trumpet blindly over their head, which exploded in the air like a grenade, sending brass shrapnel flying in the tune of B flat.

xXFireSpiritXx · Jul 6, 2009

Another few lines from my WIP, SNOW's BLOOD:

It wasn't hard to spot Gepetto in the crowd. Sixty pounds overweight and totally trapped in the 70s, bushy sideburns and all, he sat on an ornate chair raised on a platform in the center of the club. Two strippers were giving him a massage while he got a lap dance from Alice who was totally off in Wonderland—complete with white powder trailing from her nose to prove it.

The waitress, an overweight fairy with wings which could barely keep her airborne, clattered our drinks on the table.

“Oh my dear, how clumsy of me! My greatest apologies.” she squeeked.

I gave her a nice hard flick and she went flying into a nearby urn of decaf. There was a sizzle and soft pop of green smoke. Oops.

Satisfied, I wiped my hands on the sheets only to find three squirrels scamper in and begin to do a conga line while singing.

“Good morning Miss Snow. We just wanted to let you know. The sun is shining so there's no need for whining, so good morning Miss Snow!”

Blink. Double-blink. There little buck tooth smiles faltered and I grimaced. Standing up, I walked to where my robe was hanging and fished the 9mm out of the pocket. Aiming at a little gray one, he fell to his face.

“Please! Don't. I wanna li-”

I fired six rounds into his little body until he was an unrecognizable glob of goo. The other two tried to run for the window, but I hit each of them with one bullet a piece.

No more. Please.

xXFireSpiritXx · Jul 6, 2009

I wanna read more people's stuff! I love this thread. Some real kickers in here.

Skye Jules · Jul 6, 2009

This is from Angels and Sparrows: In my mind, she is laughing and spinning in her favorite silk dress, her petticoats a whirl of dahlias.

This is from Dead Poet's Pendulum: And she must have pulled her corset extra tight this morning; either that, or the velvet sash around her waist is doing too much justice. (I'm actually going to be switching this to past tense to stay consistent with the scene at the beginning of the story.)

This is from Witch Tourniquet: And the flickering flame goes out. (I love this one because it's a motif that summarizes the most major theme in my novel.)

LameRage · Jul 6, 2009

No gods, no silly superstitions, no... We've learned from the humans mistakes and because of it we practically have nothing left.

dkch · Jul 6, 2009

"The day of your birth, my soul cried out for its other half—until I was born into a world where I searched for you, the keeper of my heart—my muse and my voice.” D. K. Christi

AdamH · Jul 6, 2009

From my WIP tentatively titled "Subject One":

For a moment, he didn't want the love of his life to die.
For a moment, he worried about his unborn son.
For a moment, he wanted to rewind time and think if there was something else he could've done.
For a moment, he wished it was he laying on the table.
For a moment...
For a moment...
For a moment...

So went his thoughts every single day after Catherine died that afternoon.

Charlie Horse · Jul 7, 2009

Wow, I just realized there was a werewolf in my book:

In less time that it takes to say, “Turn your head and cough,” the Wolfman, for that is what it was, was nearly on top of them.

and this...

Doc Green said something Pinky couldn’t understand, wouldn’t have paid any attention to even, if it hadn’t been for the fact that the man was crying and tugging on Pinky’s pants leg.

rlipke02 · Jul 7, 2009

"I crawled out of his second story window last night using bed sheets and towels."
"What! Are you serious? Hannah...you really need to settle down."
"I'm not the settling down type Kendra. Especially when Mcgyver and James Bond are my idols."

I loved that from my story "Swept Away"

Aggy B. · Jul 8, 2009

There is a clearing in the middle of the woods. In the center of the clearing is a stump. And God.

Favorite line you've written

Unofficial Jester

Speaking in metaphors

Rewriting My Destiny

following a secret path

many ideas, very little time

Resilient and kind

Unleashing Hell.

Killing my darlings...

Darkly Romantic Curmudgeon

following a secret path

Absolute sagebrush

'Tis true, she is a monstergirl

Attack!

Wannabe Writer

Killing my darlings...

Killing my darlings...

March 15th: Issue 1 release

All I know is in this moment

Pumped Up Kicks

Speaking in metaphors

Not as sweet as you think