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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.
3 comments:
“Do you want to dance?” he asked, holding out his hand and inviting me onto the dance floor, “I’m not saying I’m Fred Astaire, but I don’t have 2 left feet either”. He laughed and it was the most charming laugh, sort of a giggle, but genuine, you only had to look into those deep brown eyes to tell that. He took my hand and the electricity that ran between us could have lit up a small town for days. I was lost, lost in his arms, lost in his gaze, lost in the moment. This night would be special.
Firefly comments: “They only want the kids, got it?” He grabs her by the elbow and shoves her front and center. She sees them as the air around her explodes, a firestorm of clicks and high intensity lights – the hunting party meets its prey. Startled the little girl puts her hand up; a woman turns trying to protect the child she’s carrying. “Get the fucking pix, get the pix! He keeps screaming at her. But she sees the other guy, the one yelling and raising his fists. Remembering Photography 101 she gets the pix that says it all: leave my kids alone!
For the first time since selling the cabin, she wondered if it was right. There was a want in her today to go back to that self inflicted torture. In a flash, it yelled at her, a violent call in the night. She had forgotten about it, but it hadn’t forgotten her, coming to her in the middle of the night.
He had used the same phrase; share your joy, when he proposed.
She refused to let it win, time was past. Five years with him and five without. A balance was struck, and she would suffer no more torture.
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