Edward had been the perfect best man. He smiled and laughed, ordered the photographers, made the toast, led the dance, cut the cake, been everywhere and done everything. Now alone in his shadowy balcony, he tore to pieces the newlyweds' wedding picture, keeping only the bride's portrait, which he kissed.
Grandpa Tom went jogging in the park. His feet were swift, his shoulders high, his eyes bright. He sped past fat young men who barely dragged their feet. When he noticed his shoelaces were undone, grandpa Tom stooped, and tied them. He could not straighten himself up. 'Help!' he cried.
When I write, I imagine I am God, the omniscient observer, rather than the characters in the scenes. I handwrite as well as type. I handwrite story world ideas, character sketches, scenes, first drafts. I type on a laptop everything else. I set a daily word quota and reach it. I can write on my … Continue reading How Do You Write? (Part Three)
boy with a hat 