Virginia Woolf to Janet Case, 19 November 1919, Edited by Nigel Nicolson and Joanne Trautmann, From The Letters of Virginia Woolf, Volume Two 1912-1922
this is a small little prompt writing, i’m still not done but this is what i have so far! :]
Sapnap clicked out of his discord, he’d been in the call for about an hour now with his two best friends, the three of them rambling about random and meaningless topics. A silence fell over them as Sapnap booted up Siege. The loading screen filled his monitor the man tapping his mouse gaining immense impatiens.
“Soo, did you get my email?” Dream hummed.
“I did, Patches looks, adorable man,” Sapnap returned.
“Wait you got a cat?!” A small shift could be heard coming from George.
“Mhmm, maybe if you joined mine and Sapnaps emails you would’ve known” Dream spoke lightly his voice showing he wasn’t fully paying attention.
“Well then never mind, that stuffs for losers” George spoke.
Sapnap rolled his eyes, his game fully loaded. “Well, maybe you’re just jealous of what me and Dreamm have” he teased, low clicks from Sapnaps mouse being picked up by the mic that hanged down beside him.
“Why would I be jealous? You guys are sending each other EMails of what you guys do, you guys realize you can just call for that” George scoffed his mic being muffled by something.
The Third Son - week three update
Word count: 36k Chapters: Eight complete, four in progress Kisses: exactly (only) one Budding pacts with the devil: also one
I updated my monthly goal to 50k, so now it’s really fake nano haha. I’ve never actually finished nano before, so this is all new to me. I’m also really proud that the writing is actually coherent considering how quickly I’m drafting this.
Something I know I’ll have to refine when I’m editing this is the pacing of all the horror elements. I need them to escalate at a steady pace, but sometimes I end up so engrossed in other aspects of the plot that I forget that I need to make the MC question his sanity.... priorities.
Anyway, here’s one of my favorite excerpts:
“What do you want?” I asked.
[The dog’s] mouth stretched wide, unrolling the length of his anemic tongue. But there was something else: the leech had latched to the pink flesh of his cheek and now its turgid body slid out, too. Lines of saliva seeped down the leech, down the tongue, and into a puddle on the floor.
Pentti Holappa, tr. by Herbert Lomas, from Contemporary Finnish Poetry; “Torchbearer”
Some days I’m acutely more unwell than other days, and today’s certainly one of them
Abd Al-Wahhab Al-Bayyati, tr. by Sargon Boulus and Christopher Middleton, From Modern Arabic Poetry: an anthology; “Luzumiyya”
Who would I have been, she thought, as his mouth warmed hers, if I had never seen the birds? If I had never been sick with magic? Would I have loved a man like this, so simple and easy and young?
Catherynne M. Valente; Deathless