It seems easy to use, so thanks for the great tip Colleen.
If I fall asleep with a pen in my hand, don’t remove it I might
be writing in my dreams.
Just love this quote from Terri Guillemets.
Writing whilst dreaming! That would really be something. Can you imagine how wonderful your writing would be! Dreams can be such a wonderful source of inspiration, especially if you have very elaborate, and exciting dreams!
About Terri Guillemets from her website Quotegarden:
Terri Guillemets is a quotation anthologist from Phoenix, Arizona who has collected quotes since age thirteen. Her passion is sharing literary, inspirational, thought-provoking, and humorous quotations with a worldwide audience via her website The Quote Garden at www.quotegarden.com, one of the most long-standing online quotation collections and the first to offer a wide variety of special occasion topics. With a specialty in reviving vintage writings from the 1800s, she shares her love of old books, the art of writing, and the beauty of words with a personal, heartfelt approach — “spreading quotatious joy” as she calls it. A curmudgeonesque optimist whose inner child will never grow up, she also enjoys nature, photography, cloudgazing, and family.
Thanks for joining me for Writer’s Quote Wednesday. Hope you dream some wonderful dreams, come share some here if you’d like.
PG (no more than PG-13) Content – let’s keep this family friendly!
Your story must contain the word(s) from the theme and/or be centered around the theme in a way that shows it is clearly related
Go for the entertainment value!
Post your story by Tuesday 11:59 PM PST
Use the hashtag #BlogBattle when tweeting your story, put a link back to your #BlogBattle Short Story in the comments section of this page, and/or include a link to this page in your own blog post (it creates a “ping-back” which will alert me and our friends to your #BlogBattle post)
The prompt word this week is Musk.
Now this had me stumped for a while but then it came to me in a flash of inspiration I could submit a part of a chapter that I’ve already written from my second manuscript (yes I have more than one, this is my second work in progress!) about a cheeky young lady called Morag Eu Fungh and her dragon.
How can this children’s fantasy tale possibly have anything to do with the word musk? Funnily enough my mind works in peculiar ways so musk is quite appropriate!
My #BlogBattle Entry:
Morag’s Musk Load of Trouble
Morag sneaked upstairs as fast as her short legs allowed. In her bedroom she cautiously peered at her reflection in the mirror. She drew back in horror. A large rabbit stared back at her.
The rabbit wasn’t attractive or cute.
It was no cute pet bunny rabbit
with a fluffy tail and floppy ears.
No, this creature staring back at her
had the definite air of a wild rabbit,
a dirty and downright ugly, wild rabbit.
Morag screamed but no sound came out. Panic rippled through her furry body, sending nervous twitches down her large ears, and tears threatened to smart her eyes but no tears came.
Morag’s rabbit body sneezed. Then between sneezes she started to say a few words to her rabbit reflection.
“This can’t be happening. I must be dreaming.”
But the more she stared the more she realised that she was indeed a rabbit.
Then, a string of words tumbled out of her furry mouth before she could stop them.
“It’s that dragon. He’s cursed me, turned me into a stinking, smelly, ugly, rotten old rabbit. Ugh.”
Morag hopped all the way down the stairs and out the door, mumbling, and groaning without her mother noticing her at all. She was otherwise engaged chatting up the postman!
Out in the large expanse of garden Morag felt very small and vulnerable. She heard the sound of a cat meow. She hid under a bush, only daring to come out when the cat disappeared. The sounds and smells all around her hadmagnified to an intense level. She could hear tiny insects scurrying about in the earth. The drone of a faraway lawn mower hammered in her eardrums. Her stomach gurgled so much that she made for a patch of juicy grass and ate, and ate, and ate. Then to her horror she began to gulp down whole, small round pellets of rabbit poo that were sprinkled across the park area beyond the garden. Augh,how disgusting! When night came a darkening sense of terror burrowed into her thoughts. The stars in the sky did nothing to make her feel better. She tried to stretch her long rabbit body and relax but no sleep came. In fact she was so frightened that a fox or an owl would attack her that she kept her eyes wide open all night long. In the silence of the night she heard a whisper, and then a loud crackle, and then another. Soon she was convinced that someone nearby must be lighting a fire. She hoppedtowards the sound to investigate. A flash of red, and then a blast of fire scorched the night sky.
Only the dragon could light up the sky like that. For a long time she remained still, watching, too scared to approach him. But at last her courage grew and she moved nearer and nearer.
Morag could feel the force of his relentless stare scorching the fur on her back. She hopped back and nearly turned tail and ran but the Dragon stopped her in her tracks with his words.
“How does it feel Morag, to be a defenceless rabbit?”
“Horrible,” Morag’s rabbit ears seemed to fold into themselves in despair.
“My thoughts entirely,” said the dragon, though he didn’t sound sympathetic at all.
“I have this musky smell. I eat poo. I have ticks, lice, and a family of mites are crawling all over me.”
“Yes you reek!” said the dragon pulling a face, “What an overpowering scent. Musk. It may be all the rage with deer but it isn’t dear to me! Huh, serves you right. Such a terribly mean thing that you did to your sister. I have no sympathy, you’re lucky that I didn’t turn you into a rat.”
“Please, mighty dragon. I can’t live my life as a rabbit. I’ll do anything you wish, just turn me back. I can’t live out here in my back garden.”
“Of course you can. Rise to the challenge, scaredy rabbit. Be a rabbit for a day. If you survive the night and aren’t eaten by a cat then maybe I might just come back tomorrow and turn you back. But it depends on how busy my day is. I’vegot lots to do you know,” said the dragon as he admired his long, sharp nails as if he intended to file them.
“No. You can’t leave me. You wouldn’t be so mean. I won’t last the night.”
“Stop grovelling, of course you will. Be a resourceful rabbit, see you tomorrow. Best of rabbit luck.”
With those final words, and a cold-hearted backwards glance the mighty dragon turned and disappeared into the night sky.
Morag shivered. Nearby she heard an owl hooting, and then all the sounds of the night seemed to chorus into song as if they were singing just for her, except they sang a song that she didn’t want to hear. She tested out her rabbit legs, and was satisfied to find that at least her hind legs were strong. She hopped fast across the lawn and then leapt into the air. What fun! So she did it again, and again, and again. Being a rabbit had its plus points! Soon, she was warm. Then she saw and heard a rustling in the nearby grass. A snake was twisting and turning its way towards her. Her ears pricked up in alarm. In a panic, she scampered to the right and the left zigzagging this way and that. It was time to find a burrow and hide, before she met any more snakes, owls, or foxes. Foxes frightened her more than anything with their big, furry bodies and sharp teeth. Thank goodness she could see so well but that wasn’t much compensation. She wanted to be a girl again, standing up on her own two feet, rather than hopping about on her hind legs. Being a wild rabbit and smelling of musky deer certainly didn’t make her feel cute like doey-eyed Bambi!
Hope you like my #BlogBattle story. I’m enjoying writing this one. Do let me know what you think.
I just voted in Rachael Ritchey’s Writing #Blog Battle. This week’s theme is Dream.
This morning I was in the deepest sleep when my alarm rang and woke me up. Reckon I was dreaming, sadly I can’t remember my dream, that’s always a shame when that happens. I love it when I can remember a dream in vivid detail. But my hair kind of had this tell-tale wild and crazy dream look, something a bit like this, without the wonderful colours.
I had to brush it a lot this morning, to calm it down, anybody would think that there had been a storm in my bed overnight! Whoa! Back to the hair colouring. Well I fancy some streaks, must get round to that soon! Summer is a fun time for streaks, what with all the natural sunlight and all. Better get a move on it’s July already……
I’m waffling a bit, but it’s a Saturday, you’re allowed to waffle on the weekend. So what about the #BlogBattle. There are many wonderful entries so much variety, something for everyone.
I found it a very difficult decision to choose. I have five favourites, and you can only choose two!
Last night we had a cracker of a storm here in Cambridge, England. Not kidding, I seriously thought we were going to be flooded. The thunder and rain pounded on our windows waking me up in the early hours, and flashes of wicked lightning lit up my bedroom. I sneaked out into the hallway and saw that violent short bursts of lightning lit up the driveway and revealed a serious developing puddle, pool. Of course I lay there imagining a flood, and all sorts of things. That is one of the downsides of writing you tend to have a vivid imagination that gets out of hand often! Luckily this water gathering had all dispersed by this morning. It is now a fairly decent day, no rain, no wind, nothing, like it never happened!
My chosen book this week is about bees, so my storm inspired thought is this – can you imagine what it must be like for a bee in a storm? Do bees get terrified by all that thunder and lightning like me! Or do they have some kind of sixth sense to safely hide away in their hives when storms come?
Enough chit chat about storms now let’s get started with book beginnings:
The cell squeezed her and the air was hot and fetid. All the joints of her body burned from her frantic twisting against the walls, her head was pressed into her chest and her legs shot with cramp, but her struggles had worked – one wall felt weaker. She kicked out with all her strength and felt something crack and break. She forced and tore and bit until there was a jagged hole into fresher air beyond.
Enticing or what? It’s from my current read: The Bees by Laline Paull, a book about Flora 717, a bee! Not just any bee but the lowest class of bee, but does that lowliness hold Flora back? Read the book and find out more!
What about The Friday 56 too? Let’s see what page 56 of The Bees has to offer in terms of quotes.
THE FRIDAY 56 MEME
This is a weekly meme hosted by Freda at Freda’s Voice, click on the link to her blog, and the rules are pretty simple:
•Grab a book, any book.
•Turn to page 56 or 56% in your eReader
(If you have to improvise, that’s OK.)
•Find any sentence, (or few, just don’t spoil it).
•Add the url to your post on Freda’s Voice. Add the post url, not your blog url. http://www.fredasvoice.com/2015/07/the-friday-56-with-book-beginnings_16.html
It’s that simple.
Flora raised her antennae, searching for information. It made her head hurt and she looked down. Below the landing board in the tangle of grass and nette and dock and trefoil that locked the dense wet earth, disturbing scents wove strong and strange, telling of other creatures that lived there. The green began to seethe.
The Handmaid’s Tale meets The Hunger Games in this brilliantly imagined debut.
Born into the lowest class of her society, Flora 717 is a sanitation bee, only fit to clean her orchard hive. Living to accept, obey and serve, she is prepared to sacrifice everything for her beloved holy mother, the Queen. Yet Flora has talents that are not typical of her kin. And while mutant bees are usually instantly destroyed, Flora is reassigned to feed the newborns, before becoming a forager, collecting pollen on the wing. Then she finds her way into the Queen’s inner sanctum, where she discovers secrets both sublime and ominous. Enemies roam everywhere, from the fearsome fertility police to the high priestesses who jealously guard the Hive Mind. But Flora cannot help but break the most sacred law of all, and her instinct to serve is overshadowed by a desire, as overwhelming as it is forbidden…
Laline Paull’s chilling yet ultimately triumphant novel creates a luminous world both alien and uncannily familiar. Thrilling and imaginative, The Bees is the story of a heroine who changes her destiny and her world.
Hope you like the sound of The Bees. Let me know if you’ve read or are planning to read it.
What do I have in mind for Writer’s Quote Wednesday?
Let’s see, ah this has to be the one:
“If my doctor told me I had only six minutes to live, I wouldn’t brood. I’d type a little faster.” ― Isaac Asimov
Absolutely! It’s a bit crazy! What dedication. Get those words down fast!
Of course I do hope that none of us get the six minutes to live message but if the worse case scenario does happen then there is always the option to get typing….
What else can you possibly do in six minutes? Eat something I suppose. That would rate quite highly on my list of things to do. Sit in the sun. Another great option. Yes, what about type and eat in a sunny market stall in Malaysia? The ultimate fast food delight, freshly cooked satay, and a notebook to get down my final words. Ah, yes perfection.
Well this is the second Isaac Asimov quote that has captured my attention for Writer’s Quote Wednesday, there seems to be a bit of a pattern going on here.
I’m a bit of a fan of Isaac Asimov’s quotes! Yes most definitely.
Isaac Asimov was a Russian-born, American author, a professor of biochemistry, and a highly successful writer, best known for his works of science fiction and for his popular science books.
Professor Asimov is generally considered the most prolific writer of all time, having written or edited more than 500 books and an estimated 90,000 letters and postcards. He has works published in nine of the ten major categories of the Dewey Decimal System (lacking only an entry in the 100s category of Philosophy).
Asimov is widely considered a master of the science-fiction genre and, along with Robert A. Heinlein and Arthur C. Clarke, was considered one of the “Big Three” science-fiction writers during his lifetime. Asimov’s most famous work is the Foundation Series; his other major series are the Galactic Empire series and the Robot series, both of which he later tied into the same fictional universe as the Foundation Series to create a unified “future history” for his stories much like those pioneered by Robert A. Heinlein and previously produced by Cordwainer Smith and Poul Anderson. He penned numerous short stories, among them “Nightfall”, which in 1964 was voted by the Science Fiction Writers of America the best short science fiction story of all time, a title many still honor. He also wrote mysteries and fantasy, as well as a great amount of nonfiction. Asimov wrote the Lucky Starr series of juvenile science-fiction novels using the pen name Paul French.
Most of Asimov’s popularized science books explain scientific concepts in a historical way, going as far back as possible to a time when the science in question was at its simplest stage. He often provides nationalities, birth dates, and death dates for the scientists he mentions, as well as etymologies and pronunciation guides for technical terms. Examples include his Guide to Science, the three volume set Understanding Physics, and Asimov’s Chronology of Science and Discovery.
Asimov was a long-time member and Vice President of Mensa International, albeit reluctantly; he described some members of that organization as “brain-proud and aggressive about their IQs” He took more joy in being president of the American Humanist Association. The asteroid 5020 Asimov, the magazine Asimov’s Science Fiction, a Brooklyn, NY elementary school, and two different Isaac Asimov Awards are named in his honor.(Via Goodreads)
Hope you like my chosen quote for Writer’s Quote Wednesday. What would you do if you only had a few minutes left on this earth?
Bye for now…… Remember each and every six minutes is precious…. Enjoy.