Well, there's not too much new and exciting on the writing front to share -- at least no acceptances, but no new rejections, either. I'm plugging away on this week's W1S1 story and hope to have it finished by tomorrow, then give it a final edit and get it submitted on Saturday. I also have a re-write of "Waiting Backstage" completed and ready to submit also.
At some point, when I want to share a piece of my writing, I'll hopefully be able to just give you the link to wherever it's been published, but for the time-being, how about another writing sample from the latest posting I made at the Creative Copy Challenge?
This is fresh from today's prompt, based on the following ten words:
4. Concretize -- to make real or specific
As I like to do with the CCC prompts, this piece was a rapid, improvised story, written on the spur of the moment, as soon as I saw the prompt words. I enjoy seeing what I can come up with and discovering where the story will go in as fluid and organic a way as possible.
I hope you enjoy it -- as always, comments, suggestions, and any feedback are always welcome. Thank you very much for reading!
"A Date with Wendy"
Wendy took another look in the mirror. Patting her graying curls, she frowned at her reflection. She'd used too much hair spray, and her bangs were looking like sticky stalactites hanging off her forehead.
This wouldn't do.
Arturo would be here soon.
She picked up a brush and took some of the bumpy coating off her hair, adjusting and preening until it looked right. She wanted everything to be perfect.
Wendy had to admit that she felt a little nervous. It had been a long time since she'd had a date. The last one had been with that idiot Bill from church. Wendy had spent three arduous months trying to get his interest, ignoring his horrible singing at choir practice, smiling at his stupid jokes during small group meetings, putting up with the annoying way he snorted when laughing, until he had responded, and they'd finally gone out for dinner together.
Wendy thought it went well, but Bill never called her again. The messages she'd left on his machine had gone unanswered. He even stopped coming to church.
Maybe he'd had to move away for work or something, but he could have at least called and let her know.
Although Wendy knew that really, Bill was just a jerk
Wendy smiled at herself in the mirror and went into her small living room, straightening pillows as she went. Arturo was different. She could tell that from the moment they had first spoken.
She felt a tingle when hearing his voice. She loved the way he pronounced her name, saying "Ween-dee" in his romantic accent. She was flattered by the things he said, by how sweetly he spoke, and by how eager he seemed to see her in person.
Maybe she'd miscalculated in letting him come to her apartment for their first meeting; maybe he'd be some creepy, raincoat-wearing pervert or something.
And maybe she was letting things heat up too quickly. She had to admit was a little surprised at the velocity their relationship seemed to be moving after only a few telephone conversations.
Then Wendy reassured herself -- she was letting her imagination run wild.
It was nice to have a man show such interest in her; to enjoy speaking with her; to want to meet her. There was nothing wrong with that. It didn't mean that it was going to turn into something sordid, lurid, or tragic.
She forced herself to thing positively. She'd seen on Oprah how the power of positive visualization could concretize dreams into reality -- that handsome young motivational speaker had written a whole book about it, and if Oprah believed it, then Wendy would, too.
She pictured a pleasant evening with Arturo, filled with charming conversation and laughter, and maybe, just maybe, a sweet kiss goodnight.
That's how it would go.
Arturo seemed so nice in his ads on CraigsList, and so polite and respectful when they spoke over the phone.
What could possibly go wrong?
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(c) Copyright 2011, Christopher J. Fries.