The Two Takes

Her Take: I need to start by telling you that I’m not spoiled.  This is important for two reasons:  #1 I know that there are people that exist that think I am.  #2 It seems exactly like something someone who’s at least a little spoiled says.  There you have it, that’s sorted out.  Knowing that this is coming from someone who is definitely not now, nor has ever been, spoiled, you’re more prone to believe me when I tell you that not enough fuss is made about my birthday.  I KNOW that sounds like something a spoiled person says, ok? But you have to believe me that there’s a threshold that all birthdays should be meeting and mine is, saldy, well below par.  It’s not to say that I think my birthday (which is August 9th, by the way,  if you want to send a gift.. Something tasteful, but not ostentatious please) should be better than yours. Not at ALL. In fact, a lot of us are just generally not giving ourselves the kinds of birthdays we ...

Welcome! If this is your first time reading, it may help you to know that we sometimes use a writing prompt generator when we're temporarily out of ideas.  This week we found a new one and here's what it told us to write: Word Count - 350, Genre: Comedy, Character: A hermit, Material: A football, Sentence: 'I can't see you.', Bonus: Your character is loved by everyone.  His Take:   As he climbed back up the mountain to his cave, Ralph realized that it was getting harder and harder to make the climb. Being a hermit was fine, but he wanted to find a ranch-style cave, but he knew those commanded a premium price, and in a lot of mountain communities there was a waiting list for ground floor two bedroom ranch caves.  When Ralph finally reached his cave, he plopped down on the ground and put his feet up on the rock that he used for a footrest. Just as he got comfortable (for a dirt floor and sitting against a rock wall of a cave) he heard someone knock at the ope...

Her Take: Seriously, friend, writer’s block is no friggin’ joke. I could elucidate that statement at length almost anytime, but this week it’s especially vivid and raw because I was deep down in that pit not 3 days ago. Staring at a half formed thought followed by a blinking cursor, angry, hurting, mentally constipated, just waiting for that ONE F-ING WORD that makes things make SENSE AGAIN.  That’s all it usually takes. One word, or a short series of them, to flow out naturally and set me in a direction I can follow. Without it, I’m pushing a mental boulder up a hill for eternity, punished, desperate, and, I can assure you, extremely over dramatic.  And this week was especially desperate because I had work-writing AND not-work-writing to get done but nothing. Nada. Zip. Zilch. You get the idea.  Here’s how it normally works:  I find out I have to write something.   At work it’s about a 75/25 split between topics I’m asked to write and the o...