Posts Tagged ‘writing challenge’

On day 5 of my personal challenge to write 100 stories in 100 days, I wrote story number four and it was a winner. I was extremely happy with it and think it has a good chance of getting accepted somewhere.

It is now day 11 and I’ve written a grand total of one story since.

This has been my problem for as long as I can remember. I’ll write something I like and then sit on it. That’s kind of the point of this challenge, to be prolific and not worry (yet) about quality, but every time I start a new one, I worry it won’t be as good and scrap it.

Bad Jaden, write faster.

Day: 11

Stories Finished: 5

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Each night, as the red sun dipped over the horizon, Lorena stood by the castle gates, looking out upon the moonlit moorland. Her sword was in her hand, the rings of her mail shone gold-bright, and her dark eyes glinted beneath her polished helm.

The wind blew cold against her cheek and carried the whispers of far-off voices: her mother lost to plague, her father slain by steel, and her bold love Badogund who had ridden over the hills into battle never to return.

They begged her to come to them, to kneel before the darkness that lurked upon the moor, the shadows that spread through the skies, and the black-eyed emperor in his rough-hewn throne.

Lorena stood firm.

They tested her each night for a hundred years and still she did not yield.


Word Count: 135

This is for Flash Fiction for Aspiring Writers. Thanks to Priceless Joy for running the challenge and The Magesticgoldenrose for providing the prompt photo!

 

Having been miserably incompetent in any sort of writing achievement for about a year, I was in need of some sort of plan to try and make up for lost time. Working on a longform story is fun, but I’m at that point where I want to market my stories to places, and generally it’s easier, if less rewarding, to shop short fiction than your novel.

My achilles heel is consistency. I am in no way prolific, like a certain other contributor to this blog. And I always make up a bunch of excuses, some of those excuses I was using this very morning. So my latest plan is an attempt to play around those weaknesses while working on improving them at the same time.

I am going to write 100 stories in 100 days.

OK so as I said, I am not prolific. I tend to half-finish most of my projects. If I half-finish this one, then by September 12th, I will have fifty stories ready to go. That sounds like a lot to me. When getting published as a new voice is such a numbers game, the more stories you have the better. And that’s what this is really all about.

I began the challenge for myself yesterday, finishing story 1, “Things That Happened While You Were Waiting for the Train,” today.

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In days before the rise of the sun, they danced in the endless shadows. Her laugh rang out and became the eldest star, burning brighter than any other.

And when the world was forged, they raced along the burning fragments, singing as the magma cooled and the mountains rose.

Then they were split asunder as the great oceans formed, barriers that could not be passed. He sat upon a high rock as the first flowers unfurled their petals, his eyes wet with tears. She bestrode valleys, her sorrow like a cloud.

The first people made their stumbling steps and she was there to greet them. She taught them the ways of the beasts, the sharpness of stone, and the roar of the fire, but always her days were filled with the memories of him.

The people made boats, crude barges of wood tossed by bitter waves. She wept at the sight. after an eternity of loneliness, she could know him again.

She felled mighty trees and lashed them together, setting forth across the churning sea.

The wind was fair and the sun bright as she set foot on unknown soil, the sea behind her.

He was waiting for her.


Word Count: 199

This is for Sunday Photo Fiction. Thanks to C.E. Ayr for the prompt photo!

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Ian Thorn was happy with his reputation as the finest mind in England, his impressive number of completed cases, and the money that piled up in his bank account. What he could live without were the bodies.

It was all right at first. His clients came in and he solved their murders. But then he found a man stabbed to death on the Underground during his morning commute. A visit to his brother’s house in the country revealed a secret Satanic cult.

Solving mysteries was all very good, but he preferred not to have his work follow him home.

“Take a vacation,” his friend, Inspector Banks, said. “Try the beach.”

So Thorn went to the beach. He walked the golden sands, watching sunlight play over clear waters, a salty breeze in his face.

And then he found it, floating in the shallows.

He sighed. There was another case to solve.


Word Count: 150

This is for Flash Fiction for Aspiring Writers. Thanks to Priceless Joy for running the challenge and Louise for providing the prompt photo!

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“Just sing,” they tell him. “You’re only an entertainer and it’s not your job to talk about these things.”

But he has seen what comes of silence.


This is for Three Line Tales. Thanks to Sonya for running the challenge and Paulette Wooten for providing the prompt photo!

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Screeching horns. Crashing metal on metal. Squealing tires. Glass splintering in spider-webs of shards.

And over it all, the thunder of gunfire and the smell of gunpowder.

After, they sit on the curb, staring at the wreck of the car: windows blown out, tires flat, mirrors snapped off like old branches.

“Could have been worse,” Aaron says, taking a long draw from his cigarette.

“Car’s a wreck,” Dave says, cradling his bloodstained arm. “I’ve got a bullet in me. How could it be worse?”

“Could be dead.” Aaron stands. “Come on. Job’s not done yet.”


Word Count: 95

This is for Friday Fictioneers. Thanks to Rochelle Wisoff-Fields for running the challenge and providing the photo prompt!