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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.
5 comments:
It came upon her soft, caressing her ear. The wind blew it away, then carried it back. She looked and turned, seeking the bearer of the sound. Not finding the source, and fearing she had imagined it, she went back to hanging the laundry on the line. Again, it came, low, a tenor tremble that sent her knees weak. Dropping the blouse to the basket, she walked barefooted across the lawn. Stopping, she closed her eyes and willed it to come to her again.
“Hello, my fragile angel. I am here.”
The sweetest music to her ears, her lover’s voice.
Every eye in the bar followed her as she stepped up to the stage, it was karaoke night and Anna had an idea that tonight was going to be a special night. They all knew her, of course, she was there every Friday. This was her secret, music was her life. She was very careful not to let anyone know about her Fridays, she travelled to a neighbouring town every week so no one would find out. Only this week, unbeknown to her, someone was there, someone who had known about her secret for a while, and he was famous.
OUATIM: Sands Discovers a Fondness For Bells
(The tune, 'My Favorite Things', from "The Sound of Music")
Rating: R for language, same as movie
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
Puerco pibil and lime chased tequilas,
Not skull fucked and eye plucked by two faced chiquitas.
It’s the big dance number, “Hey, I pull the strings!”
These are a few of Sands’ favorite things.
Metal, collectible lunchbox for pay-offs,
“Marilyn Manson” or “Titans, the; Clash of”?
Oh yes, he would kill you, if you didn’t sing.
Want to hear more of Sands’ favorite things?
Girls in tight t-shirts with no AFN badges.
Best loved of all were his eyes and eyelashes.
Boy on bicycle whose bell ting, ting, ting, tings,
Head cocked with ear pricked, hears favorite things.
OUATIM: Sands’ Older Sister Flips Through His 45’s and is Horrified by What She Finds
Rating: R for language, same as movie
That’s 45 rpm, not caliber. Up in his old room at his parents’ house in Pasadena. 80’s skate punk, before he went to New York, and went apeshit for show tunes. Disc after seven inch disc of prophetic vinyl.
Everything Turns Grey / Living in Darkness - Agent Orange
Bullet / Die, Die My Darling - Misfits
In My Eyes - Minor Threat
Coup d’Etat - Circle Jerks
I Saw You Shine / Shed No Tears - Flipper
Slave to My Dick - Subhumans
And the oldies he stole from her:
Secret Agent Man
Town Without Pity
Paint It Black
I Fought the Law (and the Law Won)
The music was soft in the restaurant, enabling confidences to be shared. Her best friend laid her menu down with a surprised look.
“You’re serious?”
“Yes, well, right now I am. I may lose my conviction, but I think it is time.”
“What brought this on?”
“His words from our first night. He is telling me it is time to let go.”
“But…selling the cabin?”
“Yes. I need to let it go to let him go. It’s time.”
She sipped her drink and looked around.
“I feel like I have tethered his soul here. He needs to be set free.”
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