#waswriting

[authorbrandonscott]

Long hand with possible... #writingcommunity #horrornovel #waswriting (at Morganton, North Carolina) https://www.instagram.com/p/CBTJVPoA9Nx/?igshid=gnu7coil1n9a

[strutzart]

Well. Typed this today. Now to figure out if it’s any good. #amwriting #waswriting #comicbooks #comics #script #theend https://www.instagram.com/p/B3H1qarhv4N/?igshid=6eotpebyn2uu

[zedprep]

IT’S DONE!! Well, sort of. 88K words and Zed’s World 4 has a first draft. Some #wordcount to celebrate, then the editing starts. #waswriting #amediting https://www.instagram.com/p/Bzw5DwxAkEo/?igshid=1odd9jws4a2nf

[mysticrealmsshoppe-blog]

Today's writing snippet from The Alchemist... “Stefan,” he says gruffly.  “You are a long way from home.  What brings you here?” “I need your help.  The type only you can give,” Stefan replies. Davorin cocks his head to the side, giving him an appraising look, before turning his gaze to Daciana.  There’s something about her, something familiar.  He continues to stare at her.  Her eyes.  I’ve seen them before.  They remind me of…why can’t I think of who? Holding his hand out towards her, he says, “I am Davorin Shadowwalker.  And you are?” She grasps his hand, shaking it.  Before releasing it, he leans down and kisses the back of her hand.  She inhales sharply at the tingling sensation she feels, an electric current jumping between them.  She abruptly pulls her hand out of his. “This is Daciana,” Stefan says.  “Now, about that assistance…” ©2018 Raven M. Williams All Rights Reserved

[amandamichellemoon]

I have gotten super into handwriting this past week. I’m not going to make any crazy declarations about doing this re-write by hand, but I’m not going to rule it out, either. #amwriting #waswriting #goingtobedhappy https://www.instagram.com/p/Bop9fPHhXYsnNC1c6vvGkNSCox1vWK8v651Yu80/?utm_source=ig_tumblr_share&igshid=g2fvz4nupymg

[crayon-ink]

I used up my writing energy and now I wanna go to sleep.

But Tumblr...

[legitimatelyunfunny-blog]

Excerpt

Night suited her. The shadows hung around her neck like jewelry. The lights sparkled off the corner of her eyes. Her hair melted into the dark and made it hard to tell where she ended and it began. I had an idea of pulling over as we got further into the countryside with less lights and more sky just so I could watch the stars reflect against her face, but I didn't want to wake anyone else up and disturb their sleep. The mood would be shot and it was just something I wanted to share with her. I could live with it in my mind just as well.

[legitimatelyunfunny-blog]

More Than Living

I wrote the poem below about 11 months ago.  I was thinking about off-the-grid living.  I do that from time to time and romanticize it.  In the winter I imagine hiding away in a cabin deep in the woods.  Buried by snow and unable to come out until it melts by spring's kiss.  In the summer I think of the beach, the ocean.  Living next to it's lullaby of crashing waves.  All until the fall's crisp whispers pull me back to real life.  The only thing I'd require in either scenario is someone to make me wish the season would never end.

I would like to find a home by the water

Nothing of any size or grandeur.

Something small,

the size of a kitchen

Something simple,

a table, two chairs and a bed.

The smaller the space the closer you are to me

The closer you are the more alive I feel.

When I wake I hear the waves and

See the sun glinting off the ocean’s blue

Or I can merely lie close and hear your slumbering breaths

And watch the dawn on your face as it rises

Or the stars in your eyes before you fall asleep.

We’ll have no windows

so we’ll have to huddle close

And trap the heat of our bodies

under layered covers.

We’ll have no luxuries

except each others taste and touch

I’ll recall the way your body moves

And chant that spell each night.