Here is the first prompt for you so you can get your pens, pencils, crayons, and computers fired up!
10-17-07 prompt is: AUTUMN
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DRABBLE. A story of exactly 100 words, no more, no less. Up to 15 words extra are allowed for the title. Hyphenated-words-are-argued-about. The drabble craze started in British SF fandom in the late 1980s, and the term originates from a Monty Python skit: "Drabble. A word game for 2 to 4 players. The four players sit from left to right and the first person to write a novel wins." However to be playable, the 'novel' had to be cut short. Brian Aldiss became enthusiastic about mini-sagas of 50 words, and one writer even advocated 8 words, but eventually the Birmingham University SF Society decided on 100 words. Many respected SF writers joined in the The Drabble Project and the resulting collections were sold, all proceeds going to charity. Lately, drabbles have been drawing attention again, beginning in Doctor Who fanfic and then other bigger fandoms like Trek. Variants of 150, 200, or 350 words have appeared. However, the most common form is still the 100 word drabble.
I'll not put many restrictions on the content, just make sure it is not a hate filled rampage or illegal. I reserve the right to remove any content I deem unacceptable. NC-17, Fan fiction, Real Person fiction (RPF of celebrities) or just general fiction are allowable as long as it is not defamitory. Poetry is acceptable. If you choose to write adult content, please make sure to put NC-17 or a rating in the header for your post so that others will know BEFORE reading it. (Not everyone likes to read that, and if they are warned, well, they read it at their own risk.)
Please note that I am making no money off of this. I just enjoy the challenges and constraints and have found it a useful tool in my own writing, and I wanted to share the fun with others. I will not tolerate flaming or disrespect on this blog. You are reading the content here at your own risk, so to speak, so if you come across something that upsets or offends you, please do not rage about it here. This is not the place.
You may post your drabble directly as a comment, or place a perma-link to your own blog in the comment box. Either way is perfectly acceptable, since we are dealing with a limited word count for the posts.
I'll not put many restrictions on the content, just make sure it is not a hate filled rampage or illegal. I reserve the right to remove any content I deem unacceptable. NC-17, Fan fiction, Real Person fiction (RPF of celebrities) or just general fiction are allowable as long as it is not defamitory. Poetry is acceptable. If you choose to write adult content, please make sure to put NC-17 or a rating in the header for your post so that others will know BEFORE reading it. (Not everyone likes to read that, and if they are warned, well, they read it at their own risk.)
Please note that I am making no money off of this. I just enjoy the challenges and constraints and have found it a useful tool in my own writing, and I wanted to share the fun with others. I will not tolerate flaming or disrespect on this blog. You are reading the content here at your own risk, so to speak, so if you come across something that upsets or offends you, please do not rage about it here. This is not the place.
You may post your drabble directly as a comment, or place a perma-link to your own blog in the comment box. Either way is perfectly acceptable, since we are dealing with a limited word count for the posts.
6 comments:
Autumn Drabble
Author: JD101
Rating: G
Mommy is always Autumn. It was her time of year. Big, burnt orange belly in a fuzzy sweater, finally cool after the long hot summer, finally able to move without sweating. Setting up witches and black cats, pumpkin goo and baked salty seeds. Breaking out her turtle necks, pulled up over her mouth while reading a book on the veranda, enjoying the fallen leaf, red, yellow and moss green breeze from the woods behind our house. Bring me a cup of sweet brown coffee and curl up with me on the swing. This is the way to live, baby girl.
Autumn Drabble
Author: Sleepy Jean
Leaves have started falling
New colours, shades of brown
Making their lazy way down to the ground
Listen carefully, you can hear the sound
A flutter, a rustle
Thick carpets of leaves
Red, orange and brown
Trees baring their souls to the sky
Branches still reaching up so high
To the heavens
Rich golden sunsets
Red skies a delight
A perfect time and place to stand
And watch while shadows cast across the land
So peaceful
The nearness of winter
Glistening and white
A chill comes into the air
Snow is falling, people everywhere stop and stare
Autumn has passed
Wilmot: A prayer from exile
Autumn: inundations are spreading across the lawns. The duckboards have been brought out from the backs of the stables and the marsh creeps in. All company is gone, all bottles empty. I am alone.
Lord, (although you are not my Lord) a prayer.
Save me from pedants and angels on pinhead clevernesses.
Save me from those who think beauty is the same as prettiness.
Let me not love the things that kill me, not too much.
Let me face oblivion without a snivelling death’s door conversion.
Keep me true, but to myself.
Lord, help me find solace in the flood.
Autumn Drabble
Author:JD101
Fandom: The Ninth Gate
Corso emerged from the book seller’s door, squinting into a big red sun. The smell of decayed leaves mingle with the smell of ancient books, sweep up and swirl in the smoke left behind from his quickly pinched and discarded cigarette. Brown, shades of brown. Taupe rumpled suit, cocoa brown shoes, scuffed on russet cobblestones covered by layers of fallen leaves. Ash, Maple and heart shaped Linden, once brilliant decomposing jewels, now faded in late autumn, slide underfoot to trip him up as he dashes down an ancient Paris alley. He runs as if the devil himself were pursuing him.
The leaves had fallen and the last day of autumn was blanketed in a layer of white frost. Snows would fly soon, and the outside world would become a memory for a few months. Much like the bruins in the forest about her, she would go to hibernation mode, locking everything away except the raw feelings of loss and solace that came each winter. These days were a balm and the empty world a haven to her each year, a chance to remove the mask of the stranger she had become. Life stopped for her so it could go on.
The surf rolled towards the beach one whitecap at a time, maintaining it's rhythm. Life's ultimate moment had come and gone and the water's surface was indifferent to the event. The final act was full of drama and carnage but for now, the ocean remains unfettered. The life below has become chaotic with a new and strange structure. The curious school to the scene. In a singular and climactic moment, the end comes as another is expanded. How many lives are touched and how far reaching is this? Generations will benefit as those will both mourn and celebrate the loss.
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