Too tired to write anything useful… or really anything that makes sense at all. So I’ve resorted to one of the many things I do when I can’t sleep. Tonight, I’m using an app to colorize random flower photos from my yard. They turned out pretty~ So, enjoy!
1. The real lilies are a brilliant orange:
2. Because of the contrast between the green foliage and purple petunia in this photo, it makes the colorized version look completely unreal:
3. Zinnias are my absolute favorite flower. My grandmother planted two rows on the side of her vegetable garden every year. They are wonderful for attracting all pollinators, but especially butterflies! The real ones are orange:
4. These are Gerber daisies. Their true color is almost as striking as this colorized version. The solid real ones are crayon-box red-orange:
The night air smelled of popcorn and fried food. I slung my skates over my shoulder. It had rained earlier in the day leaving large puddles to reflect the flashing neon lights on top of the building. I took a deep breath, this was it. Words to include in your story:
It was the last day of school. Children crowded at the ends of subdivisions waiting for busses. The morning was sticky, but golden light streamed through the trees and birds chirped happily overhead.
A blinding flash of light. A green spark sliced through the clear sky.
Am I going to lecture you on setting? I could. However, I find more important than finding the proper setting for your story, is finding the proper setting for you as a writer. So here are some important factors to consider when picking a location for writing.
Example 1: Natural setting with table and chairs
1. How easily distracted are you? This is a key element of choosing a writing setting. If you’re someone who is chatty, maybe limit your contact with people, if you’re someone who finds noises irritating, maybe keep headphones for less distracting music, or try finding a more tranquil environment. It’s all about you as a person.
2. The Internet Question For some writers, the internet is a trap, something that will pull them away from their creativity into countless hours of Youtube or pointless games or too much time scrolling through Facebook, Twitter, or who…
Have you ever been writing a death scene in a novel and have this feeling that if your character was a real person he or she’d be giving you puppy eyes while pleading for his or her life? “Please don’t kill me!” he or she says. For me it happens all the time. Yep. Pretty much every time I go to kill off a character. Which I am currently trying to do at the moment with no success…
So today’s lovely post revolves around killing characters. Yes, killing characters.
From a reader’s perspective there is nothing worse than when an author decides to go and off one of your favorites, but honestly as a writer it’s painful too. My characters become special to me and that makes it all the more painful when I have to get rid of one of them. After all, I am their creator, and I…
Life was bad enough when Lauren DarPayne hit puberty and sprouted a set of fangs, but now it’s hell.
After almost killing her boyfriend Derik and turning him into a vampire, she quit college and moved from small town Louisiana all the way to Atlanta, Georgia to be a stripper at Wicked Intentions. It’s good money, a great place to hide, and an easy meal ticket… well, at least until a psycho with some interesting non-human abilities starts eviscerating her coworkers. Now, due to her past ‘indiscretion’ with Derik, the governing body of all cryptid, the Abattoir, is giving her an ultimatum: play bait willingly, or by force.
Lights went out.
A brief moment of complete silence followed. The darkness felt alive and closing in on me. Then a murmur of excitement began to roar through the building. Glasses breaking, a short shriek from backstage. I clung to the pole. Anyone taking me would have to take the damn pole too.
“Can you see anything?” Therone’s voice hissed in my ear.
“No, nothing,” I replied shakily. “Not even the streetlights from outside.”
“Damn,” he said again. “He’s cut off more than the club’s power.”
I stood there for what felt like an eternity. I was squeezing the pole so tight I half expected it to crumble between my fingers. From somewhere downstairs a generator sputtered and flickered to life.
“Our apologies ladies and gentlemen,” the announcer called out as dim fluorescent light washed over the main floor. “There’s been some sort of power issue. We appreciate your business and are handing out vouchers to another show as you exit. We apologize for any inconvenience and wish you all a safe drive home.”
I stood alone on stage watching as the crowd began to move unhappily toward the door. As the last few stragglers left, a familiar scent flooded my nose. My heart pounded in my ears, and fear pushed my stomach up into my throat.
“Therone,” I rasped into my receiver while my eyes darted frantically around, “please tell me that I’m not the only one who smells that!”
“You’re not,” he said after a long pause.
“Where is it coming from?”
“I’m not sure, we have to wait until the last customer leaves. I have two agents checking the bathrooms and five others doing a general sweep. Hang tight.”
My eyes finally adjusted in the eerie light. I inhaled again and started searching for the source.
It was coming from the bar.
I went numb. Greg was working behind the bar, surely the killer wouldn’t have…
“Therone!” I yelled, my voice catching in my throat as I walked toward the scent. “Therone!” I shrieked a second time for lack of anything else to say.
“What is it?” Therone said running to my side.
The message was simple, short, and written on the wall in blood:
YOU’RE NEXT BITCH.
WARNING: EXPLICIT CONTENT. Contains Graphic Violence and Sexual Situations.