Monthly Archives: August 2013

Quote of the Week (12)

Been a while since we had a quote of the week. So here’s a fun quote I’m sure you’ll enjoy.

quote-writing-helps-us-think

And just for fun.

and-i-dont-squat

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Paragraph of the Week (19)

Another week, another paragraph. Almost to the half way point with this one…almost…

John had been waiting for this day for years, it was a needed piece of the jigsaw puzzle that had become his life, the last one he needed. Ever since her death, he had been trying to make sense of what had happened. The pieces would float in front of him, some of them missing, some of them cut in halves. Jacques was there, his burnt fedora evidence enough. John was out on patrol. The fire started. She couldn’t get past the flames and falling beams of burning wood. The firemen came too late. And John…John came just in time to see her face.

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Random Time! (With a little helpful link)

I thought it would be time for a little random fun…and a helpful little link I stumbled upon the other day. First, here’s a picture.

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Ok now that the randomness is out of the way, I thought I would share a helpful link I found the other day. I’m sure everyone has heard of R.L. Stine and Goosebumps. On his website, he shared a great teaching guide for writing. So, if you happen to teach writing (or just want to learn a few tricks yourself) it’s worth checking out.

http://rlstine.com/for-teachers/

And that’s all for today folks!

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Paragraph of the Week (18)

Remember how I said writing a book consumes everything and I would make a post about it? Well, that’s coming. It didn’t come this week because…well…writing a book takes over everything. Anyways, this week’s paragraph is a bit early and pretty long (I can’t just put one line of dialogue for a paragraph, it would technically be true, but it would also be cruel). Enjoy!

“I wouldn’t miss this, not after what happened before. I’ve been wanting to talk to you ever since you ran.”
“I’m the one who ran?” John raised his voice, drowning out the warbling violin music. “YOU are the one who ran. I tried to talk to you that night. But…but I couldn’t find you anywhere.”
He shrugged. “They called me into the station. I wanted to be there for you, but what could I do?” A smile appeared along with his tongue.
John smiled back, clenching his teeth and forcing his quivering lips to stay upturned. “Part of the job.”
“How about some orange chicken then?” Jacques said, looking over to the board
“I’m not that hungry.”
“We can split it. How does that sound?”
“If you want, go put in the order.”
“Are you sure?”
“I’m really not that hungry.”
“But monsieur, I don’t want to eat it all on my own.”
“If you order it I will have some.”
Jacques nodded, pushed out his chair, sending grating noises throughout the restaurant. “One orange chicken coming up.”

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Paragraph of the Week (17)

Ah and here we get to the trickier parts. Dialogue. I’ll post a little more than a paragraph for these. Enjoy!

He was wearing a black suit, no tie, the front open. A gust of wind shot through the closing door and nearly lifted off his black fedora; his thin hair whipped around, the single pony tail like a scourge on his pale skin. His face was pointed, his nose the end of an exclamation point. His eyes were dark, maybe brown, maybe black. Red jutted out over his worm-like lips; when he licked them, John couldn’t help but think of a snake sensing prey.

Turning from the board, eyes narrowing, John said, “Guess you are right. For a while there, I didn’t think you would come.”

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Paragraph of the Week (16)

A little late, but here it is anyways. And as a side note, I’m sure many of you have noticed that productivity has dropped on this blog. Oddly enough, if you were to make a graph that showed when I started writing a book and posts on this blog, you would see some correlation. Maybe a post about that this Thursday! Until then, enjoy the paragraph.

John turned from the city and stared at the black, scratched chalkboard near the sushi bar, trying to decipher the neon writing; it was nothing more than pictographs. He leaned towards it, rubbing his head, watching the phantom images leap off the board, play with his eyes, turn him into one of its possessed victims.

“The special is orange chicken,” Jacques said.

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