Short Stories
This week: Edited by: Leger~ More Newsletters By This Editor
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The purpose of this newsletter is to help the Writing.com short story author hone their craft and improve their skills. Along with that I would like to inform, advocate, and create new, fresh ideas for the short story author. Write to me if you have an idea you would like presented.
This week's Short Story Editor
Leger~
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I Don't Have Time to Write!
How many times have you said those words? Do you have a great story idea just bubbling around in your head, but you don't have the time to sit down and type it? Do family obligations and interruptions interfere with your writing time? Here are some tips and ideas to make more time to write.
Give yourself permission to sit down and write. Allow a portion of your day to be dedicated to writing. Know what time of the day is best for your creativity and work it into your schedule just like you would make time to go to the gym. Even thirty minutes a day can be rewarding. Thirty minutes a day will yield 182.5 hours a year. After a couple weeks of scheduling time, you'll enjoy your new writing habit.
During your "writing time", ask family to please not interrupt and don't answer the phone. These minutes are precious - don't waste them. If a spouse or friend is watching your children for you during this time, put in earbuds and let some music block the temptation to get involved. Focus on your goal and don't stray by letting your mind wander.
Answering email and messaging friends will destroy large blocks of time. Turn off the instant message consoles and stay away from emails during "writing time". Once you're in a writing lull or need a break, then make time for friends.
Keep research time limited and focused. It's very easy to become distracted while researching on the internet. Take precise notes and notate web pages where you found information so time isn't wasted when you have to refer back. Keep your research organized, title your pages and highlight important phrases.
Your workstation should be free of clutter and distractions. Don't leave bills laying on your work surface. Sharpened pencils and pens should be kept nearby. Make sure your printer has paper before you start. Your desk chair should be comfortable and fit correctly. If you like to play music while writing, select your CDs and have them ready to play. Put your mp3 players on shuffle or choose a playlist that suits your mood.
If you have small children, naptime and story time at the local library are profitable moments. Early mornings before the family wakes with demands is also a usable time. If you're a night person, after bedtime could be used also. Even while you're in the backyard watching the kids, waiting in a doctor's office or parked for car pool, you could take note cards and jot ideas on them.
Speaking of story time, all those silly tales you make up to entertain your children could be a treasure trove of children's story ideas. Jot them down while still fresh in your head. Some of the best published children's tales came from verbal stories created for children.
Eat lunch at your desk at work and work using a jump drive to transport your work. (Make sure you keep a copy on your hard drive at home as a safety measure. It can't be stressed enough times, BACK UP YOUR WORK.)
Don't be distracted with editing. Dedicate a block of time to go back and read what you've written and edit then. Backspacing for every small spelling error can burn precious time.
I hope a few of these ideas will be helpful. Write on!
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| | Abstract Blue (E) There are vivid, cold and above all, blues of peace and unity. The battle against racism. #1392136 by Raitei |
Excerpt: A little more blue here, perhaps. No, more.
I sigh in frustration. I am never content with my work, no matter how many times I repeat it. My passion for perfection in art is hard to satisfy. My sky is constantly tainted with shades of gray, and my earth is the dye of claret.
Excerpt: parked the old silver Crown Victoria near the curb and turned the lights off. The officers had finished roping the area off and were now escorting half a dozen reporters away from the premises. A fire truck lit up the evening sky with flashing lights as a handful of volunteers repacked their gear. I shook my head at the pathetic scene. Sardis, Mississippi was nothing like L.A.
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Excerpt: It began with needles. One sharp jab after another. We were slowly being numbed to the enemy's assault. Helpless and rooted to the spot, we watched as pliers grabbed one neighbor after another. The silver beast had blunted teeth that locked on to each one, ripping them out.
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Excerpt:
Roman collapsed onto the sofa, the sheer weight of the blow against her skull taking the last bit of energy he had left. The woman, a young, pretty thing, lay dead on his living room floor. She twitched like a squashed bug, blood dripping down her right cheek from a gash in her temple. The girl's lifeless eyes turned red. Roman dropped the gore streaked hammer in his hand. He buttoned his pants, grinning as he became himself again. She hadn't even seen it coming.
Excerpt: The box was exquisite. Finely carved out of oak, it had weathered to a beautiful deep gold in color, darker in the deep creases. To see it was to long to touch it, to stroke the grain; to feel the warmth of its glow, deeply contained within the wood. If you were to take the box up in your hands, you would find no flaw. The carving was perfect, the wood unmarred, its sides polished so that one could look forever into its depths. No flaw, except for its location...
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Excerpt: She kept her eyes closed until Matthew left. When she opened them, she saw circles of light moving upward like wayward bubbles on a windy day. She didn't know why she didn't want to speak to Matthew this morning. He had done nothing wrong. She heard him say goodbye as he walked out the door. She felt a bit of embarrassment creep into her cheeks.
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Excerpt: We've just dubbed our dog, Angus-The-Slayer. Not that old Angus has that killer instinct. Far from it. Angus, who thinks the farm is one big mattress - you know - drop anywhere - sleep anywhere.
Excerpt: There she was. She didn't sit in a display out by the front window, and she wasn't one of those hanging by the checkout counter, nor was she anywhere near the front of the store. Not for this beauty. She hung in the hallway leading up to the sound proof playing rooms. She was a murky bluish shade like the actual color of the ocean, and she had a small knick near the side of the whammy bar. But that gave her character far beyond any of the other shiny brand spanking new models out front. She had time and experience on her side, and you could tell from the first look that she would treat you just right. That was why I loved her.
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Excerpt: "Watch out, Alex! Here comes another big one!" Mike shouted over the roaring of the ocean wave, just as it was about to overcome them.
Alex took a big gulp of air just in time. She kicked her feet as she dove under the huge wave. Mike was right beside her.
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Excerpt: It looks like tears, Max thought.
He felt like crying now; the falling rain made him think about Helen. He couldn't remember a time when she hadn't been in his life. He tried to remember when they'd first met, but failed. It seemed she'd always been a part of his life; comforting him when he was sick or in pain, cooking his favourite meals and just loving him without reservation. Helen didn't care what anyone looked like, how much money her friends had or what they could do for her. She loved her family and her friends unconditionally, accepting them with all their faults and all their qualities. She never judged anyone and never turned anyone away. She was the most important person in his life.
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This month's question: How do you make time to write?
Last month's question: How do you keep your conflict strong?
Replies
Peter Yule : Leger,, I love to look inside the small town newspapers. Lots of good stories there, usually on page 4 or 5, one column two or three paragraphs. Just saw one today on the man that invented the gumball machine. Got rich selling people on the idea that they could get rich selling gumballs. He sold the machines.???
See what I mean, there are countless good stories waiting to be told.. Peter Alden Yule, "The Old YAnkee Storyteller"
Comments
Maria Mize : Thank you for a very informative newletter. I appreciate your question of the week, "Where do you find inspiration?" as well as all of the input from the writers who read your newsletter. It was nice of you to share with us. Thank you.
Thanks to those who submitted replies and comments.
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