Here we go, a fresh shiny new word!
Silence
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How to play:
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.
3 comments:
Here's my attempt at "silence":
The boy stood in silence by the car and the man popped the trunk. The smell was overwhelming. The boy wanted to puke but that would look real soft. The guy in the trunk had his hands tied behind his back, his legs curled up the way no living legs could go. His mouth was stuffed with money --jam packed with coins and bills. The boy wondered how far down his throat the coins went. The man pulled the guy’s face towards the boy. “Look long, Sammy my boy. This is what happens if you rat out your friends.”
What is silence but a word that speaks to me in the night, the only word that speaks to me in the night. It comes from who knows where and stays until the break of dawn. My deepest fears, my darkest times. Silence is home to the night demons, my biggest opponents, my fiercest foes. It stops me from closing my eyes at night, from shutting down my computer, from saying goodnight. For out of the silence I hear a voice, the voice of a loved one, it’s there, faint in the corner of the room, calling out to me.
The loons on the lake were saying goodbye tonight. The lovers were moving to a warmer clime. She sat with a bottle of wine on the same deck where she had tortured herself for five winters. There were gouges and marks she had left, but only she knew what had inflicted the scars in the wood. She had packed the car with her few belongings. The jar of butterscotch disks sat on the railing waiting to go to the city. She was aware of silence as the loons had left to sleep before flight. She knew she needed the same.
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