By Michael Seese
A while back, I posted an entry detailing how I had hopped on the treadmill the previous night, and had a nice writing session "in my head."
I started thinking about the next scene in the book I'm working on. The words kept coming. And coming. And coming... By the time I had finished, it was pretty late. I thought I would be able to keep it all in my head until tonight. And I was right. I just completed a 1,500-word brain dump. Not a bad job of caching, if I do say so myself.
I did it again.
I'm working on a short story for a compilation I came across called "The Day The Star Fell." Here is the description from the Indigo Mosaic Publishing website.
Stories do not necessarily need to be about a literal star falling, but there must be a falling star worked into the theme somewhere along the line. This can be an apocalypse story or a story which links in with new age trends. You could have a fallen movie star, soccer star or other public person. Your star can be a stellar body, a metaphorical star, a Christmas star, or any permutation of the theme. Your story can be fantasy, science fiction, urban or whatever else you wish it to be. The only hard and fast rule is, it must be related to a star falling in some way.
I already had the beginning and ending. Since I love sharing, here is the beginning.
Marcelona sat on the ledge of her penthouse. The roar of the wind made it difficult to hear anything, such as the pleading cries of her fans on the streets below, or the frantic beating on her door.
How high up am I? she wondered. She honestly did not know. Brian had handled the purchase for her, just like every other detail of her life. He might have told her, at some point, perhaps as she was signing the lease. But she couldn’t recall. She rarely ventured outside—per Brian's counsel—to avoid subjecting herself to the paparazzi’s voyeuristic, prying eyes. So it may have been 40 floors, or 60 floors. She would find out soon enough. Not exactly how many floors. Just more or less “how high.”
But I wanted to work on the back story: why she was so miserable. So I fired up the treadmill, and began thinking. The next day, I sat down and cranked out 1,000 words in an hour.
I could live with doing that every time I walk.
Stay tuned for more updates.
Feel free to share your thoughts on this brief snippet. And to my writer friends, the deadline is 1/30/2013. So sharpen your pencils!