I enjoy writing. Ideas for stories can be inspired by the smallest incidents while talking with friends or just being out and about. Sometimes, the idea flows smoothly and and pours onto the page like a fine wine. At other times, a full head of steam will dissipate like a fart in the wind leaving me with nowhere to go.
At times like that, I’ll just let the words fall where they may and fix it later. Here are a few examples from some of the various works in progress that have yet to be published on this site.
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“He kissed her in a way that made her think that Stainmaster carpet is worth the extra 90 cents per square foot.”
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“The armchair sat empty in the living room, as a stoic reminder that he was gone forever, and still emanating his biting sarcasm with its mockery of the ottoman for not quite matching.”
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“With the RADAR failing and the storm raging, both battleships were blind and being tossed about in the raging torrents. When the look outs finally spotted each other, it was too late and the mighty warriors slammed into each other with a sound reminiscent of two mammoth steel boats hitting each other with uncomfortable force.”
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“Four times I had watched the sunrise over the canyons. Twice wrapped in a blanket with her. Once again with our son. And once with a historic importance that escapes me at the moment.”
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“Sometimes the truth is a bitter pill to swallow, burning as reality threatens to choke you. Other times, it’s kind of like butterscotch pudding.”
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“It was better now. The searing pain from the bullet still in my side had given way to the endorphins and adrenaline of the moment. I was steady enough to cover the door and the window with the three left in my .45, but the blood had become sticky, like when you spill Pepsi on your hands in a restaurant that doesn’t have the courtesy to have wetnaps on the table.”
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“And if you’re wrong?”
“Well, I imagine if the blast doesn’t kill us, the rubble will crush us to death.”
There was clear panic beginning to boil behind her eyes, as if this was the first time she recognized her own mortality, or at least considered the possibility of it. If I didn’t calm her down, we were both dead where we stood.
“If I’m wrong, you go to place where you can eat all the cake you want and never gain weight”.
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Luckily, some kind of scientific device-thingy was able to put and end to it before it stopped being a minor subplot and took over the whole damn story. (Often I leave notes to myself like this.)
Jim says: “It was a dark and stormy night, when all of a sudden, nothing happened.”
