Favorite line you've written

Cheryll · Nov 12, 2011

GREAT thread here!

Here's one from a short story I wrote titled "Incident in Cole County":

"My husband done got himself dead."

Cheryll · Nov 12, 2011

slcboston said:

It’s hard to hide a gun in an ankle holster when you’re wearing Bermuda shorts.

Now THAT is a scream!

French Maiden · Nov 12, 2011

'He had been robbed of a life and an afterlife by two different parasites.'

milly · Nov 12, 2011

something I wrote tonight that is quite telling:

I open the fridge and it’s empty except for a bottle of Grey Goose, a carton of orange juice, two limes in the crisper, and Derek’s stash of liquid morphine.

French Maiden · Nov 12, 2011

milly said:
something I wrote tonight that is quite telling:

I open the fridge and it’s empty except for a bottle of Grey Goose, a carton of orange juice, two limes in the crisper, and Derek’s stash of liquid morphine.

That sounds like it could be very interesting

French Maiden · Nov 12, 2011

i was looking over my WIP earlier, more procrastination than anything and i found this, i quite like it:

Sitting at a table by himself; he was wearing thin square reading glasses, a thick brown tracksuit jumper, with moth eaten holes throughout it. Faded black jeans and sneakers that probably spoke to him as he walked, completed his ensemble.

milly · Nov 13, 2011

something I just wrote:

Tonight though I feel like a story and my past is here with me in the water too, as much as it is when I’m working a fire. Sirens and flashing red lights barely visible, barely audible for the raging flames and blasting bursts that blew out the top floor windows from left to right as the fire spread. Then it was the shower of water and foam that didn’t cool things down enough for me to get to him. My father howled and I heard it, I’m sure of it, but then the floor collapsed and I fell away from him and my sister fell with me as the west end gave way and the east end continued to burn without budging.

Smiling Ted · Nov 13, 2011

Now they traveled through a dismal waste, thick forests broken by ruins that were ancient before the Romans, standing stones that gave no shelter, roads that vanished under bridges leading nowhere.

It was all pretty eldritch.

jl1966ca · Nov 15, 2011

The steady drizzle started in the early hours of the morning and brought with it a chill hand whose skeletal fingers wrapped around Rebecca’s heart and would not let go.

JayMan · Nov 15, 2011

milly said:
I open the fridge and it’s empty except for a bottle of Grey Goose, a carton of orange juice, two limes in the crisper, and Derek’s stash of liquid morphine.

Nice!

In a similar vein, something I wrote today:

[FONT=&quot]"And there was this old alchie in my neighborhood, a guy with a liver the size of Alaska[/FONT][FONT=&quot]—[/FONT][FONT=&quot]would’ve been a gold medalist ten times over if Jim Beam was an Olympic event."[/FONT]

PorterStarrByrd · Nov 15, 2011

right now this from Toondor! is sitting nicely

42 year old Lars Swensen was asleep on his bed. He lay on his back, nude, with no covers over him. The air conditioning was turned on to MAX in order to keep the Kangaroo on the other bed cool. It was nude too.

Pistol Whipped Bee · Nov 15, 2011

Now up until this moment it had always been the practice of Cat to act impulsively with regard to catching his snacks, but something about Caterpillar caused him to introspect as he continued to watch her eat. She appeared to be in a most irrationally intoxicated state as though nothing were more important than her moment with the lettuce. This aroused in him a feeling of great perplexity - for he'd never watched a life form eat with such focus.

milly · Nov 16, 2011

something I wrote this morning:

The box isn’t there and I almost fall into closet at this discovery. In fact, that’s what I want to do, to fall in and get buried beneath the scarves and stadium cushions and rain boots and wadded up tissue paper that have nowhere else to go.

Schnitzel · Nov 16, 2011

From my most recent ms, From the Sea:

Lucy smiled, a wry expression that possessed her face. “I could ask you the same thing, Eurick, roving to a billboard in the middle of the night, like nobody’s business, mad and crazy as shit.” She came forward over the crackling branches and stepped into the warm halo of light, digging out her phone. “This is what brought me here, if you want to know,” she said, and showed him its screen; and yet Eurick already knew: the same blinking message, the same enigmatic summoning.

BotByte · Nov 16, 2011

He looks to the world and sees the earth blanketed in red. Red, the color he can never run from; yet he searches for it.

milly · Nov 16, 2011

something I wrote tonight:

There must be a catalogue, a dewey decimal system of all the ways a woman moves. When she unloads laundry or carries her purse or drops flower-shaped pancakes into a skillet to please her children, there are subtleties that must be documented lest we forget they exist. Or worse, lest we cease to care.

Ambri · Nov 17, 2011

Okay, I'll play.

“Word of advice, darlin’. Never get in a knock-down, drag-out with a real live sadist, eh?” /QUOTE]

MissTannen · Nov 17, 2011

This line is from an argument between my two main characters in my WIP YA book:
“So, what’s the rule with you? Shoot first, ask questions if you survive?”
For some reason it made me laugh...

Tepelus · Nov 17, 2011

After writing this tonight, it gave me a chuckle (of course, it helps to know the rest of the scene), and it's said in a joking manner:

“[FONT=Times New Roman, serif]Well, you are a lowly servant, and I a rich, young, handsome lord, and one of the king's closest friends. What do you have? A pocket full of straw?”[/FONT]

Victoria · Nov 17, 2011

"So, you were a stripper, like on a stage?"

Nathaniel nodded, his eyes never leaving the road. "Yeah, but only for a few months. All those screaming, panty throwing women scared the shit out of me."

Kyla Laufreyson · Nov 18, 2011

This is one of my favorite paragraphs in my novel Weeping. It'll probably change a bit (I'm revising), but it's still something I look at when I feel like a crappy writer:

There was a set of ornate double-doors, carved from a wood I couldn't identify. I pushed against one of the doors—thankfully it was unlocked—to find myself in an immense, mist-filled ballroom. No one has been here in a century. The air tasted stale, a thick layer of dust coated everything I could see through the mist and every step forward I took left an obvious footprint. I leaned against a pillar, folding my arms over my chest and peering at the mist. It wasn't hard to envision a glamorous party of times long since past taking place here. I'd been to so many of them back then. When I thought about them now, I knew how generic they were: always shiny dresses, always gossip, always an engagement to announce.

Rob Lefebvre · Nov 19, 2011

This is the first line from my WIP novel. First straight novel I am attempting to write. The line is as follows:

The urine burned with a fiery vengeance as it exited the tip of his penis.

nathanrudy · Nov 20, 2011

[FONT=&quot]“You’re Lee Thurman,” said the strawberry blond facing me in the vestibule, softly but with conviction. Since I am Lee Thurman, I nodded. [/FONT]

milly · Nov 22, 2011

something I wrote last night:

Terminology had always fascinated Derek and with the drugs came a new language, malleable and secret. It was a world of verbal opportunity for a writer who’d lost his own words. He mastered the jargon, created his own, and his addiction to the drugs, to the thing that had given him a voice again, grew exponentially as each new phrase was coined or spoken or defined.

Charlie Horse · Nov 22, 2011

Sometimes I can almost come off as being smart...

Time is constant, unaffected by the perceiver's fleeting mood.

Favorite line you've written

seeing sparks

seeing sparks

Ah-HA!

Like Burt Reynolds in Gator

nutruring tomorrows criminals today

Now what?

seeing sparks

il terzo paradiso : inner peace

Not a Reader, a Writer

seeing sparks

Plotting something

And so...

practical experience, FTW

Oops

Ass kicker

Kendy's Father, Maureen's Husband

seeing sparks

Speaking in metaphors