Monday, April 28, 2008

Writing Game! Wanna Play??

Need a break from your WIP that will serve to sharpen your mind a bit? Join us for a round of GENRE SWITCH.

The rules:

1. Read the story as it appears so far.

2. Write EXACTLY 100 WORDS to continue the story not including the word "a". Even if that means stopping in the middle of a

3. When you write your 100 words, SWITCH THE GENRE of the story. Try to do this without being too abrupt.

4. Do not repeat a genre that's already been used unless three new genres have occurred since then.

5. Tongue-in-cheek is fine, if not preferred.

6. Keep the MC consistent, regardless of what's going on around him/her (or happening to him/her). Attempt to develop the MC in the ever-changing context of the story.

7. We'll just keep going until it fizzles out -- or until somebody writes a really good ending.


Here we go:

Krista slipped through the velvet draperies and approached the coffin as though this were something she did every day. Trying not to let her eyes fall on the corpse, she studied the surroundings, looking for a place to set her tripod.

"The lighting's too dim," she said to the quiet woman arranging flowers nearby. "Can I get some more light in here?"

"The family requested candlelight," the woman said.

"The family also requested photos of the deceased, and I assume that means they'd like to be able to see what's in them."

Not that this wasn't the strangest assignment of her


  1. unique career. But it was so strange to shoot funerals on-ship. Normally they jettisoned the bodies. She guessed it didn't matter, as long as she was getting paid. She cast a guilty glance at the dim coffin. It was crass to think of money at times like these, but the forty-credit payment was extremely generous; it would buy her three good nights at the Ceti-Centauri casino.

    She wiped suddenly sweaty hands down her slacks and returned her attention to the job.

    "Candlelight up 45 micro-watts," she called.

    The woman sputtered, but Krista ignored her, too shocked by what the light

  2. revealled. The corpse, the late beloved Reverend Otis, had begun to move.

    Krista blinked. A trick of shadow and light, she thought. The fingers of the Reverend's hand twitched again, reaching to the side of the casket.

    Krista stumbled back, bumping into a wreath of ivy and yellow roses. Her mouth opened and closed, unable to form words.

    "Watch it!" the other woman hissed, reaching for the flowers before they tumbled off their stand.

    Krista grabbed at the woman's sleeve and pointed, her index twitching at the gangly Reverend who heaved himself up, tearing the invisible stitching that kept his eyelids shut.

  3. “Cut! Cut! Who mixed up the scripts again?” The director snorted and threw the pages on the floor. “Somebody get Princess Galaxy and the droids off my set.” She scanned the back stage area. “Would someone please tell me where my prairie girl went? And somebody, glue that corpses eyes shut.”
    Creak. Groan. “What the...” Crash.
    The crowd of actors rushed over to see where the lights fell. The only visible part of her body was the bottom of her legs and tips of her shoes.
    “Gee,” Princess Galaxy drawled and popped her gum. “Shouldn’t that have been a house?”

  4. "It should have," Krista said.

    She sighed and rubbed her temples. Then the lights went out. She jumped and held onto her tripod.

    "I wanted more light, not less. Jeez."

    From within the walls of the studio, the skittering sounds of a thousand clawed feet shook sound sets.

    Krista's heart slammed. An unearthly scream preceded a sickly, pale blue light that ripped through the wall. Red eyes, millions of them, all faceted and malevolent, glared from the shadows.


    The voice drummed into Krista's head. Her brain shook and the scampering feet grew louder. The blazing red eyes began

  5. to dance to the beat of the music playing in the background.

    It reminded Krista of her last day with Rolf. God does she miss him. Krista remembers his scent, the way she would inhale the remains the fragrant odors left on her skin, hair, and sheets after hours of passionate lovemaking. She tries to release her thoughts of Rolf..... she needs her wits about her.. but Rolf's spirit has infiltrated her soul, and she feels at one with him.

    Is he trying to tell her something? Perhaps he can lead her away from this situation that she want's