robinbloke: (Default)
I've signed up for NaNoWriMo...
robinbloke: (Clik-a-clak typing)
After managing to nuke one of my directories several months ago and lose most of what I had already written I'm going to make another go at my 100x100 word stories project. What I'd like to help inspire me and get me going again is some suggestions and ideas.

A single word or a small sentence, anything :)

Inspire me!
robinbloke: (Default)
After several abortive attempts to create something... anything... for my mini art project I realised that creating anything other than with these magical mystical things called words was likely doomed to failure, doomed I tell you, DOOOOOOOOOOMED.

Ahem.

I mean, I attempted to draw something when I was lucky enough to have a pen and paper and the right headspace hit me. But afterwards I thought, "Well if I wanted to draw something that a crazed seven year old who was building up to serious issues in later life would draw, that's it." so I abandoned that.

Thus instead I'll provide my 'art' in my usual medium of terrorism; and resurrect something I tried to do ages ago that ended up the way of most of my projects.

Thus, briefly, I bring back to life my 100 word stories just for you lovely people...

Stories )
robinbloke: (hitman)
Gunsmoke, story segment )
robinbloke: (me_Blur)
The ocean washed onto the shore in endless rolling foam, wind whipping over the sand to cause a flying wave of stinging sensation.
Roaring at the rocks. Breaking around them to crash and collide in fresh salt spray. Mist in the air.
Sea green below the blanket of blue that stretched to the horizon.
The last hints of visitors to those sands eaten away, piece by piece, with each sliding hiss of water creeping closer and closer up the beach.
The sun bade a farewell on the horizon, shimmering crimson fire fading as the ocean quashed it once again.
The first few stars opened their eyes to look down on the cove, waking to join the moon in silent vigil of the tide returning once again.

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robinbloke

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