This is going to hurt. A lot. For those of you just tuning in, I’m making a blog extravaganza of Sara Crawford’s The 30 Day Writing Challenge.
“Another problem I see for beginning writers is that they worry so much about being bad that they are afraid to write at all. If you can relate to this, you need to break out of this way of thinking as soon as possible. What better way to conquer your fear of writing something bad than to write the worst thing you can?“
While I’m not a beginner, I struggle with this one more than anyone can know. Thanks, Sara, for giving me my demon up front. 😛
Here we go. You can blame Sara. SHE MADE ME DO IT! Awful writing this way, please….
It was a bleak night, a night that was dark and bleak. She looked in the mirror at her fair, white, alabaster skin and fixed her long hair to frame her round face. A purple helix hung from her fat neck.
“I never much cared for that woman,” she maliciously said.
“I heard the feeling was mutual,” he bravely said.
“Whore,” she angrily spouted.
The dark man walked across the dark room, bleakly. He felt icky. He hated being here with her when she was like this. He walked across the room. Why had he agreed to do this? All he knew was that his Aunt Gertie owed him big time. He picked up a book and pretended to look through it. He leafed through the pages of the book as if he were a teenager looking for a lost sock. He walked across the room.
“Stop pacing you lanky goat and get over here,” she sweatily growled.
He knew this was the only way. Her chin wobbled when she talks. He imagined his feet sinking into the ground like an ostrich sticking their head in the sand. He imagined the ground was soft.
There will be no way out of this. She will have her way.
Suddenly, a surprise knock happened. Somewhere a knocking sound occurred and it was startling.
The wobbly woman stood and pattered across the carpeting as if stamping out small fires. She placed her right hand on the door knob and opened the door with an angry swing of her left hand on the door knob. I always liked the coldness of door knobs. As I swung the door open to see who interrupted my special time, it was just the maid with tea and cakes.
“Put it over there,” she grumpily said.
All she had to do now was dump the drug into his drink from her poison charm necklace, which she won in a poker game from the Duchess of Perlingsboro, and then make him drink it and then agree to marry her and then she could take the thrown and then rule the land. She looked out at the sun on the afternoon lawn and turned to face the room.
Where did he go?
Christ. That was super terrible…and slightly high-larious. Okay, as the 30 Day Writing Challenge goes, I now have to do the following:
“When you are finished, examine your piece and ask yourself the following questions:
– What “rules” did you break to make this so bad?
– How would you do the opposite of what you did here to craft a well-written piece?”
Basically, what I just did was play into all of my pet peeves – cliche, repetition with no point, terrible dialogue with terrible adjectives, POV tampering, no ending, horrible metaphors, terrible plots…….. I need to stop listing because I’ll be here typing all the day.
Let’s see if you can spot them all.
IT CAN ONLY GO UP FROM HERE….RIGHT?
I’m going to go kick Sara’s tires.