Sharp Words

Well, so much for the Practice Makes Perfect attempt. I didn’t get any outside suggestions (though if I’d asked friends & family directly I probably could have) so I was a bit stuck for topics; plus I’ve had a lot on and couldn’t be bothered.

But NaNoWriMo starts tomorrow and I need to make myself be bothered! I do have a title - The Knights of Orcana - and I have some plot, some characters, and some inspiration. And I have a lot of online write-ins planned! What more can I possibly need? Except the time and the inclination. Fingers crossed on those.

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Ysabel, Guy Gavriel Kay - finished Monday 22nd. Library book, first read.

First Among Sequels, Jasper Fforde - finished Saturday 27th. Library book, re-read.

1632, Eric Flint - finished Sunday 28th. Borrowed from Colin, first read.

Ongoing total for 2007: 152 + 8 re-reads

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[Things are flowing better today. I thought of writing another in advance, but that's cheating. Maybe.]

What’s in a name?

WhiteGrey: What’s your name, little one?
Baby (puzzled): What’s a name?
WhiteGrey: It’s your word, that they call when they feed us or want to pet us. Everyone has one.
Baby: I don’t.
GreyWhite: Then you don’t belong.
Baby: She calls me sweetie and kitten…
WhiteGrey: But you don’t have a word that just means you. She doesn’t even call you George.
GreyWhite: She doesn’t call any of us George any more.
Baby: What does George mean?
GreyWhite: ‘Everyone’. But they don’t say it any more. We have our own names anyway.
Baby (hopeful): Can you give me a name?

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Jackpot

Man versus machine: he’s nothing more than an automaton, pushing the buttons of the fruit machine with cold skill and inhuman focus. Symbols align and coins rattle and fall, shiny silver into the wide tray; he scoops them out and without looking, barely pausing, he feeds them back into the greedy, grasping slot of the machine. The cycle repeats once, twice; then lights flash, bells ring, and golden wealth cascades - the pay-off, treasure enough that his watchers surely believe that the player will judge his work done. But without a reaction,he scoops up more coins; and it begins again.

[No, the title isn't included in my 100 word limit...]

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“What would you have done?” (inspired by the BBC production of Fanny Hill)

I’d hope that I wouldn’t have done as you did, but then we’re hardly comparing like with like. There’s no doubt in my mind though: what they did to you was immoral - and illegal besides, but then so much is, even when morals aren’t necessarily misplaced. They took your fresh-faced innocence and wore it away with false-faced friendship until the only part left to you was the part that they could sell. You were so innocent that you had no defences against the debauchery you were introduced to; I suppose, in the end, what happened was hardly your fault.

[This whole 100 words lark is damned hard. I have to edit to keep to the limit, which is rather annoying. However, I suppose it bodes well enough for November when I have to be as verbose as possible...]

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I haven’t written anything for a while - fiction-wise, anyway; I’ve been writing plenty of work-related stuff of course - so I thought I’d get some quick practice in before NaNoWriMo.

So for the next week or so, I present the Practice Makes Perfect drabbles. (Which may or may not end up being 100 words long, we’ll see how they go.)

However, I need some help for ideas for them. Please comment with a suggestion for a character and a situation (original ideas preferred) and I’ll write something.

Cheers!

(Cross-posted to my LiveJournal.)

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