Hey, writer-type folks. AND PEOPLE WHO JUST WANT TO PLAY BUT DON'T IDENTIFY AS 'WRITERS' - all are welcome here. Every Friday we do a fun free-write. For fun. And Freedom.
Write whatever you want in the comments section on this blog post. Play as many times as you like. BREAK THE BLOG! You have two minutes (give or take a few seconds ... no pressure!). Have fun. The more people who play, the more fun it is. So, tell a friend. Then send 'em here to read your 'two' and encourage them to play.
If you have a blog and you want to post your pieces and link back here, that would be lovely.
Are my eyes open yet? Would I know? That's one of them fancy questions the college kids like. But, it's relevant. Shit's all blurry. Is my brain functioning? Would you know? If I spin around on this chair, arms flung wide, eyes to the popcorn ceiling, what? If I stood at the top of an ivy-tinseled tower and sang at the top of my voice, how long would you wait before you'd call someone?
What about my voice? What about my eyes? Why do you want to break it down, disassemble it, it's creeping me the hell out. I hear soft, work sounds - scrabbling, urgent noises - efficient grunts and muttered curses. The sky is the color of a clay eraser.
The scraping, I can feel it in my skull. God, what a sound - a million hairs bristle at the afrontery. Which my blog doesn't seem to think is a word. I'm pretty sure it is. Just as I'm pretty sure that the clay will reform itself, the sun will shine, young lovers will stroll with arms entwined. That's something I can get behind.
Thanks for stopping by! I will be in and out all day but, rest assured, I'll be reading everything and commenting as I have time. Happy Friday!