Category: 365 Day Challenge

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Gertrude – Day 215 – Sunday Sketch

Sunday Sketch 7 - Terry Whidborne

Gertrude was the best warrior in her village and had been challenged to slay a great beast. After a week, she gave up. She she didn’t even know what one looked like. After setting up camp on a green mossy mass, she vowed never to go home. She learnt moss topiary, weaving and even painted many of the rocky spikes in her garden. A year later, the mossy mass woke. It was a great beast. Gertrude was sure she could still slay it, but she’d built such a lovely home for herself. It would be sad to leave, she thought, she held her spear poised over it’s head. At first the beast threatened to crush her. But when it saw the way it’s spiky spine had been painted and it’s mossy fur tidied, they made a deal. They wouldn’t kill each other after all. Gertrude would get to stay on the beast and it would continue to be painted manicured fabulously.

Last day of June, so I thought I’d do one last art challenge. Thanks again Terry Whidborne the artist, and also to Chris White, whose blog post reminded me of the Sunday Sketches again. 

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Spokes – 214 – Bicycle difficulty

Yesterday I helped paint a friend’s bike and was reminded of just how differently I see bikes and how much difficulty I have riding them. 

 

The wheels spun sucking her gaze in further and further till it tangled. Her vision was hazy and her thoughts were twisted in the spokes as she tried to mount the machine. It carried her down the hill precariously, threatening to throw her off if she slowed down. She felt she was being kidnapped. When she arrived at her destination, she squeezed the brakes. To her surprise she managed to get off fairly smoothly. As her thoughts untangled and her vision stopped spinning she could see the little metal machine waiting for her patiently as she went inside. Perhaps they could be friends. 

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Rock – Day 213 – Quiet People

I’m a pretty quiet person. Yesterday as I filmed with all the psychologists I noticed for the first time what it’s like to be in a room filled with other quiet slow talking people. Sometimes its difficult for quiet people- but yesterday it was so easy. 

The flowers were loud, they grew fast toward the sun constantly spreading their seeds and letting their petals fly on the wind. Rock tried to keep up with them, but it was hard. By the time he’d finished introducing himself, the flowers had wilted or turned away. Rock always thought there was something wrong with him. Why was he so slow? Why was he so quiet?

One day it rained. Hard and fast, Rock was pelted with fat bullets of water. He could feel the earth softening beneath him, and then he was sliding. Rock wasn’t used to moving, it was fast and scary. But when he finally came to a stop, there were no loud chattering flowers. Just a bunch of grey lumps. He wondered what they were. But then they began to speak, a slow deep rumble. Rock recognised it immediately. There was nothing wrong with Rock, he was just being Rock.

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The Psychologist and the Empty Chair – Day 212 – Psychologists

Today I filmed for the psychology faculty at university- shooting various symptoms to be diagnosed by students in exams. It was so interesting! One of the psychologists said I should write a story called the psychologist and the empty chair. 

I wondered why all my psychologists took such long pauses. I’ve been through a fair few and they all do it, and now I’m sure I know why. They’re getting advice from someone. They hear voices. I’m always asked if I hear voices, but I don’t. I’m sure it’s them. My current therapist even has a spare chair in the room, facing us like a third person. 

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Word Syrup – Day 211 – Speaking

Big news! I am doing a TEDx talk for TEDxQUT on the 2nd of August about my project. I’m really excited but I find public speaking very difficult, as I’m sure many people do. On day 78 I did a story on my fear of speeches and my propensity for violent blushing. This is going to be a big ordeal for me- I’ll be filmed, there will be an audience and I dare say there will be blushing. So I’ve written today’s story inspired by public speaking difficulties. 

Words stick in her throat and dribble from her lips in a muddy indistinguishable syrup. People watch horrified as the newborn words flop about on the floor unable to find their feet. Some words begin to climb back into her throat, quivering with nerves. Her voice shakes from the quivering and then the words clog it all together. She scoops up the remaining words from the floor and carries them home. They’re not bad words, she thinks as she bathes them. If only she could give them a proper send off, let them loose in the wild. If only she could throw them into the wind and let them float effortlessly around the audience touching those nearby. Next time she’d be stronger, next time they’d be alright.

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Oil – Day 210 – Ian

“What’s olive oil?”

“I think if you crush olives and it makes oil. You can do it with coconuts, vegetables, peanuts…”

“How do they make baby oil, do they crush babies?”

The two children sit in terror. The first turns to their baby sister, June.

“June, there’s no such thing as Bananas in pajamas, they’re just men in suits.”

“What are you doing!?”

“I’m crushing her dreams, I want to see if you get baby dream oil.”

June begins to cry.

“Quickly, collect the tears. We’re going to be rich!”

Yesterday at work, Ian was having philosophical difficulties with this question: “If olive oil is made from crushing olives… how do they make baby oil?”

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Edge of Conversation – Day 209 – Chloe and Friends

Chloe told me she found making friends difficult. I totally agree- it can be intimidating and awkward. This morning I decided to challenge myself to make proper friends with the guys in the warehouse. I like talking to them during work, but at lunch I usually sit back with the office people because they’re too loud and intimidating. Today I sat on the outskirts of their big circle. I felt like the quiet kid at school again. The following story is my experience:

On the edge of conversation. I step out briefly on to the centre of its loud shifting surface. But I can’t see my next step, it’s already moved so fast that I can’t find a foothold. So jump back to the edge, clinging to the still quiet comfort of the edge. I’ve got a better view from here. I can really take it all in. The edge isn’t always a bad place to be. 

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Zombie Philosophy – Day 208 – Andrew’s Zombie Difficulties

Andrew’s been pondering the question, what is a “vegetarian zombie”? So I’ve explored some Zombie philosophy.

Urge for brains constant. Irresistible. But also urge to help others. So make diet, more earth friendly, like human vegetarians do. Choose what brains. Brains that not contribute much. Never eat scientist brains. Some politicians okay. Best brain from Murdoch man. He spread his brain though everywhere through paper. His brain very renewable.

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Fairies are Hairy- Day 207 – Terry Whidborne’s Sunday Sketch

Terry Whidborne (find out more at his site) is a stupidly talented person especially with a pen/pencil/paint or really anything- I imagine he could even carve an amazing sculpture with a pin if he wanted to. Every Sunday he does a sketch and sends it hurtling into the chirping land of tweeters. I got excited and couldn’t wait for today’s so I used last week’s as today’s prompt:

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Fairies are hairy. I always thought they were smooth delicate creatures with impeccable dress sense and perfect figures. I locked myself away in libraries and even lived in the woods for a month in search of these perfect beauties. But when I finally tracked them down, I found a group of tubby hairy artists buzzing about. They’d been drawing themselves into books for decades as gorgeous creatures. My disappointment was quickly replaced with relief. No one is perfect. Everyone is insecure.

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Wasteland – Day 206 – Dave McKean

Another one of my favourite artists is Dave McKean:

Her mind was a dumping ground. She was barely visible through the rubbish and weeds that took over her thoughts. Every bad thing someone said and every negative thing she’d read festered there. I tried planting a few compliments but they never lasted long in that wasteland. Eventually, I left. I was terrified the weeds would reach over the pillow and strangle me at night. I remember the way she looked at me before I went. Her eyes were barely visible, roots dangled over her brow and empty packets dripped residue onto her eyelashes. I could see a tiny flower hidden in the mess, but it wasn’t enough. I knew only she could restore the balance and let things grow again. That was the last time I saw her.

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The Last Forest – Day 205 – Erin’s Favourite, Max Ernst

Erin sent me her favourite piece “The Last Forest” by Max Ernst:

The moon is a forest. If you slip under a crater, you’ll see it. Giant blue luminous plants thriving and giving off eerie green light. When the Earth was used up, we moved here. It had been under our noses all along. Not everyone survived the trip. Which is just as well, the moon is small and cramped. Some complain about the strange damp smell of the forest or the dark blue mud that cakes our boots. I am just glad there is a forest left in the universe that will take us. 

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Bold – Day 204 – Margaret Preston

I asked my doctor if he had any favourite artists. He said Margaret Preston. 

Grace has very distinct boundaries. Don’t hug her, don’t look her directly in the eye and definitely don’t take her to anything loud. Everything must be clear and repetitive. At first it seems restrictive, sad even. But the closer you get to Grace, the more intriguing the boundaries become. She’s different, beautiful and bold.

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Frail – Day 203 – Andy Goldsworthy

One of my favourite artists is Andy Goldsworthy:

Everything he does seems precarious, his twig hanging things especially. 

I watched a doco where he made one, and when it got blown over he really kept hist cool (I would be so frustrated). So here is my attempt to capture these hanging sticks in a story. 

His spindly twig frame carried his dandelion beard. He might be scattered by a light breeze at any moment. But he wasn’t frail.  He had the gumption to experiment. Life was a cycle, and he always rebuilt as something new. Frail people stayed broken forever. Next time he’d be butterfly wings and straw. 

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Conchita – Day 202 – Julia’s alter ego suggestion

I got a suggestion from Julia while ago. Something I’ve been finding difficult is keeping track of the different submissions and fitting them into my themes. But your suggestion has not been forgotten Julia! Today is the day. The submission was: “Conchita Consuela Poiter – the alter ego of a bank payroll officer Leonie. Leading the life she always wanted to through Conchita. Can you write about Conchita?”

Yes, yes I can. 

Leonie’s eyes glazed

The new payroll software was a maze

All she could think of was tonight

Tonight she was Conchita, glamorous and bright

Tonight she’d be strutting down the aisles

No more boring files

She’d be working the floor

She’d be someone others adore

One day she’d stopped and taken stock

Realising her dream wasn’t something to mock

It was not for sale

Like homebrand ginger ale

People would admire her rack

For the shelves at Coles she did stack

It was a job she loved dearly

But her parents thought it merely

Unrespectable and dreary

So by day Leonie suffered at her respectable screen

And by night Conchita reorganised the beans.

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Special Post! Josh Donellan’s Mentee.

Remember when I met awesome mentor, slam poet, playwright and writer, Josh Donellan? Well I donated to his play and the perk was a personalised poem. I got mine in the mail today and was so excited! Mentee- that’s me! Image

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The Difficulty of Plain – Day 201 – Hair

A while ago I was in a library and the girl next to me got out a pair of scissors and began cutting her hair. I was so curious as to why, but I didn’t want to ask. I haven’t been able to get the image out of my head, so I decided to write a story about it today.

Plain. The word had been planted in her mind years ago. It had taken root and spread through every cell of her brain. She’d grown her hair to hide her face. But hiding was lonely. Sitting in the library she imagined her bad thoughts being pushed out of her skull like one of those toys you push playdough out of. Terrible insulting words pouring out of her mind and spilling onto her shoulders. The scissors in her bag whispered to her. They could fix this. She could get rid of the thoughts. Snip. Her mind lightened. Snip. The words fell to the floor. For the first time she bared her naked face. Looking around the library, she could feel eyes on her from every direction. They peeped from shelves and computer booths, inquisitive and confused. Goodbye plain.

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The Stars Talk – Day 200 – Shugo Tokumaru

Matt sent me Shugo Tokumaru’s Lahaha:

The xylophone reminds me of twinkling stars and I really like the whistle too. So here’s what I got:

Stars talk, you just have to know the tunes they like. Jasper spent many years alone in his tower trying every instrument, every tune, every complex composition. The tower was so tall it scraped the clouds and tickled the stars. But still the stars never replied. So Jasper gave up. He sold the tower and all his instruments, and packed up his things. Before he left he cleaned the tower windows, and whistled. It was just a simple nursery rhyme he’d heard a child whistle once, but suddenly Jasper heard a voice that sounded like embers fizzing and fire cracking.

“Did you hear that?” said a star peering through a cloud into the window.

“Oh I love this one,” said another star blowing the cloud out of the way.

“This one’s big and hairy,” said the first star.

“Wait, this is the song you like?” Jasper asked feeling his beard subconsciously.

“Yeah, we didn’t think the big ones knew how to do it.”

“Usually only the small ones do it,” added the second star, “we like the small ones best. They believe in our wishing powers and make us feel special. But I suppose you seem alright.”

“Would you like a wish on us then?” asked the first star.

“I wish I didn’t sell my tower,” said Jasper.

“Well, we can’t actually grant wishes. But we like when the little ones wish on us, gives us a good ego boost. You’re welcome to live on the clouds though, they’re pretty hospitable.”

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Skipping – Day 199 – Kate’s Super Love

Kate gave me something she calls “EARWORMS!” 

Now I must convert the structure, the tone, the notes into words (not the words- just the feeling of the music).

I’d never heard it before, but to me fast repetitive piano reminded me of things that rise and fall (waves, chests etc). Then, the singing patterns she uses such as singing “are” and “I” twice reminded me of the way you do two steps on the same foot when skipping. (I’m a big fan of skipping- why don’t adults skip?).  I’ve tried to get all this into the format, the story and the words. 

We’re small

She skips

I follow

I fall

She stops

We’re friends.

We grow

Still

she skips

Still, I fall over

and over.

“Adults”

people call us now

Still she skips

still I fall

over

and over

Only my heart skips

Only for her.

One day

she hears

head on my chest

she whispers

“You too?”

I nod

She stands

“Never stop skipping”

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Cows with Guns – Day 198 – Jason

Jason gave me cows with guns.

Now this really was difficult because it already has such a strong structure/story built into it. I tried to describe the tone of it in my head- I came up with two words “silly” and “epic”. So I came up with something silly and epic that built on the original story (I really don’t want to tamper with that masterpiece). 

There was hardly any skerrik of humans left when we started the fight. It was hard to convince people to throw away their robotic enhancements. They thought then enhancements would help us fight the bots, but instead our enemy could read exactly how we were going to fight.

I was at a loss, the resistance was losing. Finally I found a song on a usb and uploaded it to our network. We didn’t speak english then, only binary. I didn’t know what they were saying, but it sounded rousing and people liked it. It reminded them of their human history.

They ripped out their enhancements and began to fight. The bots couldn’t anticipate us anymore, we smashed them.

When the war was over, there was a big language revival. Linguists started piecing back together old languages like English. They translated our battle song, it was a comedy song about cows with guns. Most people were outraged that they fought for such silliness, but I was happy. That was the most gloriously human mistake I’d ever heard.

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Party – Day 197 – World Cup Song

Plis asked me to use the World Cup Song for inspiration.

I gave it a listen and was met with an assault of whistling, battle sounding drums, and general party noises. It was really difficult to find a story in the tone of the song, because it basically doesn’t change, it’s just a constant party anthem sound. So I’ve tried to write a story that mirrors that.

I miss home. Home was quiet, I think. Drum drum drum. What was quiet? I try recalling. A ball bounces off my head. Drum drum drum. Is it when there are no drums? No party? No whistling? I can’t imagine. Isn’t whistling the only way to breathe? Don’t drums keep my heart beating? I test it. I put my hand on the nearest drum. It stops for a moment. Suddenly I remember. Being torn out of my home. Creatures with drums. The drumming creature pries my hand off the drum. Drum drum drum. Perhaps there was no quiet. Perhaps there was no home. Perhaps I’d always been here. Drum drum drum. That must be it.

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Unfettered List

This one time I helped judge a competition. It was an illustration led short story comp- now the results are in! Entertaining stories and beautiful illustrations- what more could you want?

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Sweet Transvestite – Day 196 – Rocky Horror

Heidi told me she’d been humming songs from Rocky Horror. So I’ve used Sweet Transvestite for today’s musical prompt. The task is to interpret the mood and the tune not the lyrics (although I’ve used them for inspiration too today). I noticed the stunted nature of the song and the theme of anticipation. So here we go…

“What are those stockings Darryl?”

“I wanted to tell you sooner Dad… it’s mine.”

“Oh…”

“I wear them. I know you won’t like it.”

“Well…”

“I can move out if you want.”

“Actually…”

“I know you’ll want me to change. I’ve tried. But I can’t”

“Darryl! Shut up!”

“Sorry Dad”

…

..

.

“You’re not leaving. I don’t want you to change. I just wanted to ask what denier they are. Mine always get holes in them. I’ve known since you were little.”

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Reflection – Day 195 – Nothingness Living Colour

 

The challenge this week is to interpret the mood and pace of a song into a story. Not the lyrics, just the sounds and feeling.

I noticed around 39 seconds it got quite deep and menacing and then toward the very end it’s quite light and dainty. 

I could always feel James’ tiny dark eyes watching as the arguing started. No matter how many times I told him to go to bed, I could always feel them on the back of my neck as fists and furniture made contact with my face.

We left when James was 5. I hoped James was young enough not to remember. But when he got to highschool I knew he hadn’t forgotten. He looked at me after a hard day at school and I could see everything he’d witnessed reflected in those tiny dark eyes. His knuckles found the indent made by his father.

I was scared. I felt guilty. We should have left earlier. I should have tried harder to stop him seeing. But when I looked back into those dark eyes again the memories were blurring, distorted by tears. He never found that indent again.

James has children of his own now. When I look into their tiny shining eyes I can see their memories reflecting back at me, and I feel a huge wave of relief.There are no knuckles, no indents, just gentle soft palms and big warm arms.

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Melody – Day 194 – Welly’s Musical Challenge

“Do you think you can write stories inspired by music? On one level you could listen to something and let the mood stimulate your thoughts and set the tone for a story. Taking it deeper, could you correlate the flow of words in a story to a piece of music. Take the beat and the (I can’t talk music!) but say how it starts mellow then it gets deeper and darker and faster and then breaks into a happy harmony. Make it so the song (or part of a song) and the story can be understood in the same way. Tone, mood, pace, structure, meaning. This takes the emphasis away from subject matter. It challenges you more in the way of poetry, I suppose. If you do choose to attempt this it would probably take more time for thought and analysis than the average story. And I would recommend you try with at least 3 different bits of music.”

Challenge accepted Welly. Sounds difficult! Today I thought I’d warm up. I use this song as my writing soundtrack all the time. Next time I’m taking requests! All this week- please send me songs!

As I was listening to this, I noticed something I hadn’t before. I thought about how fast the melody hand was playing and how slow and steady the chords sounded.

Her mind whirred like a spinning top. When she spoke, I could see her tongue struggling to keep up with what was going on in her head. I’d rest my head against her chest just to listen to the beating of hummingbird wings. She made me feel dizzy. I’d watch her spin, a blur of colour, and when she wore herself out I’d carry her. But she never rested for long.

Toward the end, she was frantic. It was as if she was timing every second of her life, trying to fit everything in. When she finally slowed, it was like listening to a music box winding down. It was definitely her, but she was distorted. I knew I’d never be able to wind her up as fast as she needed. I carried her the last leg hoping she’d enjoy my pace. But it didn’t last long, all melodies must end.

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Lords of Waterdeep – Day 193 – Boardgame Madness

Aidan tells me winning “Lords of Waterdeep” is hard. 

They told me not to sail those waters. But I needed to feed myself. I had no friends in the town and needed to make my own way. The bay was overfished and I heard tale of great ripples off shore. There must be huge and terrible beasts round those areas. I wondered what their meat would taste like, and what price people would pay for such a delicacy. 

So I took my little fisher boat out to sea as the sun spilt over the horizon, lighting the peaks of the waves. Ahead I could see the ripples folk had spoken of. As I lowered my net I was shot in the eye by a jet of water. I looked around for the source. It was coming from a hole in my boat. More and more were popping up from the timber decking. As the jets shot up, they sprouted fingers grasping blindly at the air. I flattened myself against the side of the boat trying to avoid them. But they weren’t grasping for me. They grabbed at the floorboards and began to pull down. The sea was pulling the vessel under. 

I am a Lord of Waterdeep now. The convicts drowned years ago, and now they rule the waters looking for other paupers like me. We live in luxury and we never go hungry because we don’t eat. 

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The difficulties of Circus Jesus – Day 192 – Markets man

A man I met at the markets gets called “circus jesus” he told me to use it as a story prompt. I wondered what the difficulties of circus Jesus are?

Jesus was coming. He was reborn into a circus family. Unfortunately, most of his powers were used to pull crowds to the circus and he never realised his full potential. His last performance of walking on water was given 2.5 stars in Weekend Entertainer. 

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Because idiots – Day 191 – My accidental meeting

I’m told today to go to a casual meeting for social media research students. I walk into the room and see people in suits, a presentation and a ‘confidential’ discussion. I am not supposed to be here. But I’ve sat down. Oh no. The room is oppressively serious, I feel claustrophobic, the most inappropriate thing I could do now is laugh. But it’s escaping out of me in short bursts, a snort here, a smile there.I have to look at the floor, bite my cheeks and think about dead puppies. I’m stuck in there for half an hour (till it ends and I run free from the room), stuck in a battle with my body trying not to let a shriek escape.

I have always found keeping in laughter incredibly difficult. The more I shouldn’t laugh, the funnier it becomes. I remember when I had my appendix out I laughed for an hour because it hurt so much to laugh, the more it hurt, the more I laughed. 

The boy laughed. He laughed when he was happy, when he broke his arm, when he was crying. He even laughed at his bullies who hit him because he was the village idiot.

It wasn’t a snide sneer, a constructed cackle or a greedy guffaw. People in the village used laughter to make others feel bad or to broadcast how much fun they were having. But the boy’s laugh was a snorting, unashamed, uncontrollable explosion of amusement. Life was funny to the boy, and that made most people suspicious.

Perhaps he knew something they didn’t, or perhaps he really was an idiot. It didn’t matter to the old woman. She walked right up to him one day as he sat laughing in the market square. At first she just listened and then she began to laugh with him. They laughed until they couldn’t breath. Before she left he said “no-ones ever understood my joke before, most people are idiots.” She came back at the same time everyday after that. And they would laugh because it made them happy, because life was funny, because people thought they were idiots.

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Cake and I – Day 190 – Cake Difficulties

Kate just told me she “hid in a cupboard at work so I could eat a giant piece of cream-covered cake in total silence.” I assume she finds getting alone time with cake difficult.

 Cake is sweet.

Cake doesn’t care about calories.

Cake see’s the beauty of my insides.

Cake always remembers my birthday.

Cake and I go way back.

But lately I get the feeling Cake is avoiding me.

All I want to do is sit quietly with Cake.

Gaze upon Cake’s voluptuous form.

Inhale Cake’s sweet scent.

Taste Cake’s delicate flavour.

But I always have to share Cake.

I try to steal Cake away, pulling Cake into the stationary cupboard.

Someone see’s us though, and our moment is cut short.

I watch the people stare lovingly at Cake, and I realise…

Cake is too to beautiful, too popular, too charming,

I will never have Cake to my own.

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Pixels – Day 189 – Lucy & TV

Lucy tells me she finds it hard to go to sleep and not watch that next episode of TV…

The two children observe each other. The girl holds her buzzing pixels like a shield.

“Why are you filming me?” he asks.

“I’m not it’s a monitor.”

“What does it monitor?”

“Nothing, it’s just a screen. I watch my life on it.”

“Isn’t that what eyes are for?”

“Maybe. The doctor says I won’t need it much longer.” She gives him a brief moment of eye contact. “I can even sleep without the TV sometimes.”

“Why do you need it now?”

“It helps me feel safe.”

“Why?”

“Stop asking questions.”

“Why? I’m just being friendly.”

He goes to touch her, she withdraws.

“You’re not real.”

“Of course I’m real!”

“You can’t hurt me, you’re just pixels.”

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My girl – Day 188 – Catching

I needed a pinch and punch on the 1st day of the month- I forgot to announce this month’s theme! “Difficult” what do you find hard? I’ll try it.

To start the ball rolling I’ll tell you one thing I find stupidly hard- catching it again. (See what I did there?) Seriously I find catching balls (or anything thrown to me) really hard and incredibly nerve wracking (because I can’t catch). 

I look out at the sea of waist-height blue people. Their floppy hats hide their tiny faces as they throw the ball to one another. Which one is she? The ball cuts through through the air hard and fast hitting one with skinny little stick legs square in the face. That’s my girl. 

She’s eye height now, I watch her and her skinny legs tottering to the car in heels. She’s not my girl anymore. I throw her the keys. She fumbles and they land an inch away from the storm drain. As I watch her drive off I know, that’s my girl. 

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Mugs – Day 187 – Downstairs Conspiracy

Coming to you from Downstairs Conspiracy where there is a shortage of chai mugs at the arts night I’m at. No one likes a mug shortage.

The stranger had left the quiet town as quickly as he’d come. He asked for people to donate mugs. His voice was smooth and persuasive. Only one woman was unconvinced. The people flocked to her for tea. And suddenly the town was alive, and loud. Eventually the stranger came back. With him he brought a giant mug sculpture. The people weren’t angry, they put it in the centre of the woman’s make shift chai yard. 

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Summertime Sadness the Real Story – Day 185 – HALFWAY (I convince Sam he likes Lana Del Rey live on Air)

HALF WAY! Today marks the halfway point of my year long journey. My friend Sam asked me to come on his radio show at phoenix radio. So I asked if I could write him a story live on air. He agreed. I asked him to give me a song that he hated live at 3:30 today- then I had an hour to write the backstory to that song to convince him the song was good. He told me he hated Lana Del Rey’s Summertime Sadness (listen here). So I set to work in the studio. At 4:30 I was done and he invited me back on air to read the results. 

The lyrics talk of a girl all dressed up asking for one last kiss before someone leaves. I thought about kissing and remembered an episode of Radio Lab podcast (listen here) about how vampire bats look like they kiss each other- but are in fact feeding their friends by spitting blood into the others mouth. And thus this story came to be: 

When they first found the babe they tried to feed her blood. But the babe just wailed. After much trial and error they learnt the babe would eat fruit.

And so the babe grew into a girl. They named her Lana, meaning ‘glowing’ in Battish, for she was their light in the dark.

During the day, they would nestle round her and rest. Lana would look up at her hundreds of doting parents, their eyes glinting down at her from the cave walls. At night, a few would stay with Lana and the rest would leave the cave to feast and find her fruit.

But the girl did not stay a girl forever. And when she turned 16, the bats could see the sadness in her eyes. So they gathered a mass of fruit and stole human clothing from washing lines during the night. In the morning they told her she must go. She must see her own kind.

The cave filled with the sonic echoes of sadness as Lana left, her translucent white skin glowing in the summer sun. 

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The Prison of Kyle Sandilands – Day 184 – My thesis woes

Lately I have been deep in my uni thesis. This has meant I have basically been reading and re-reading and re-re-re-re-re-re-re-reading my own work. I am so sick of it. I don’t want to read those same words again. 

The tower contained only one scroll of parchment and one quill. When she’d filled the parchment she was quite pleased. It was a good story about damsels and dragons.

Years later and she does not see it that way. Every word has been scratched out and replaced several times. She had read it so many times, she’d managed to find several overarching metaphors that revealed her inner psyche, one of which seemed to point to her being reincarnated later in the eternal hell of a strange man’s body who folk called “Kyle Sandilands”. She’d spend all day staring at the reality of the smooth round wall that surrounded her only to dream of being trapped in a worse prison.

So one day, with no ink left in the pen, she ripped up every word of the foul text and rearranged them. It took her months to find a combination that worked. But as she worked, her nightmares about the man folk called Sir Sandilands began to fade. Eventually she had re-written her story. The dragon’s wings had been cut by a beautiful and deadly damsel, but the dragon was cunning and built a new pair.

When she woke that morning, she was flying through the clouds. The tower was a distant speck, and her scales felt warm in the sun.

PS. Tomorrow I will be exactly half-way through my challenge! So I’m hopping on my friend Sam’s radio show and writing a story for him live on air! Tune in to phoenixradio anytime from 3:30-4:40.

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Are you willing to brave harrowing Winds? – Day 183 – Forms

I’m going to be doing some filming for a lecturer. He opened the official employee form and suddenly the energy was sucked from the room. He looked at me, I looked at him, I could sense we both agreed: forms are the most boring bores of borevill. But perhaps not all…

What is your current fitness level?

Are you bilingual?

Are you willing to brave harrowing winds?

Is your hearing sensitive to high and prolonged tones?

How much fabric weight can you bear?

Can you battle against strange sparkly creatures under the pressure of a watching audience?

Are you scared of heights, gimp suits and/or have an irrational fear of white pants?

[Submit]

Please click “submit” to lodge your application as a Eurovision Song Contest contestant.

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It’s a whole new Word! – Day 182 – Dee and Susan

Dee and Susan don’t like reading slang in the wrong context. 

Darren has no TV, no internet and speaks mostly to his cattle. He likes making up sayings. His latest is “y’all” as in “y’all ready to be milked?” and “booyah” as in “can I get a booyah milk’s making some moolah!”On Sundays he covers his white ute in Northern Territory rust as he drives into Town for his weekly “scratch-off” (scratchie). People in town don’t understand his sayings.

“Mate I don’t think po po’s gonna catch on, stick to blue heelers.”

One day, Darren wins his scratch-off. He books plane tickets to America, it’s the first brochure he picks up at the travel agents.

When he arrives the girl says “An Australian? Booyah!”

Everyone in America understands Darren. But Darren hates it, his one unique talent has been taken from him. When Darren gets back to the farm, he comes up with all new words. “Stonking” “porkies” and “chip-butty” are a few of his favourites, he’s sure no one’s thought of those.

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Leave Britney Alone! – Day 181 – And another thing (Sommer)

Sommer told me on twitter she really doesn’t want to read stories about “Teenaged girls who are introverts who hate everyone but everyone loves them.” Sorry Sommer- I’m about to write one. 

Britney had nothing to say to anyone, but it just made her more aloof. Boys would blurt out her name in the school corridor trying to get her attention. She got headphones to block them out but it just made her cooler. She bought ill-fitting old clothes so people wouldn’t notice her, but the girls just copied her. When she finished school, she took up art so she wouldn’t have to speak to anyone, but being elusive just made her exhibitions into a cult hit. If Britney had just given someone the time of day, they would have realised she really didn’t have anything to say, and poor vacant Britney could have lived in peace.

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World Building – Day 180 – Tash’s World

Tash also hates world-building for world-building’s sake. So I gave it a go and tried to explain as well. 

Every morning at World Builders Co. the builders check in to the Universe Studio. Universe Studio is a testing ground universe on the outskirts of the Multiverse where World Builder Co constructs new worlds and flat packs them to be shipped all over the multiverse. Although at the current rate the company is expanding, the urban metropolis of the Multiverse CBD will soon swallow their studio.

The craftspeople are always first to arrive. Sculpting new landscapes in minute detail is a never ending and thankless task. Geneticists are also fairly early risers as experimenting with new flora and fauna is a slow and unpredictable process. Lastly, after enjoying a good rest in one of their private purpose-built worlds, the imaginators will put in a few hours of work. Talking into the speakers, they will describe new components for the crafters and geneticists to add to their to-do lists.

No-one is sure why the company continues to thrive, given most worlds are bought as spares which will never be seen in all their minute detailed glory. We can only assume it is an old hang-up of our species, left over from the traumatic demise of the Milky Way.

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Superman Becomes the Flash(er)- Day 179 – Streetundies’ conundrum

This month’s theme is ‘conflict’ and lately I’ve been writing in genres that people tell me they hate to see if I can make them better. But today I’m breaking out for just one story as I got the most genuinely odd suggestion from @STREETUND1ES today on twitter. They have a conflict of their own “why do undies sometimes find themselves on the street?” In fact that’s what their entire website is about: streetundies.com. I felt this was a pressing issue that needed to be resolved so here is my story.

SUPERMAN BECOMES THE FLASH(ER)

Image Warner Bros.
Pictured: Superman last week going commando

After Superman was spotted last week without his trademark red underwear, the trend of throwing one’s underwear to the curb is on the rise. Like the burning of the bra in the 1960s many citizens took to the street today to throw out their underwear. Here at BreakingGoodnews.com we’re just hoping PM Tony Abbott doesn’t catch on and let his red speedos fly free.

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Terms & Conditons – Day 178 – Welly will not ’em read on any terms

A prompt from Georgia Welly today. She hates “terms and Conditions – nobody ever reads them and it seems like a great waste of the written word.” So here is my attempt at some terms and conditions.

Terms & Conditions:

1. Reading

1.1 The subject is only required to read the sections they find entertaining. 

2. Printing

2.1 In the event the subject finds the terms and conditions boring the subject must print the terms and conditions and fold them into a hat. Please see the appendices for origami instructions.

3.  Workplace

3.1 If the subject is reading the terms and conditions in the workplace they must pretend the reading is hard work and 

3.2 If the subject finishes the document at work they must reward themselves with a communal biscuit.

3.3. If the subject does not have access to communal treats, the subject is required to steal a treat of a co-worker from the fridge or at the least buy something from the vending machine.   

4. Commitment 

4.1 If the subject is still reading at this point in the document, the subject should know the author is single.

4.2 If the subject enjoys sci-fi, comedy and listening to the dulcet tones of a snort laugher the subject may consider calling 036745745

4.3 If the subject calls the aforementioned number but enjoyed the Phantom Menace the author reserves the right to at any point terminate the call.

[ ] Tick box to agree to terms and conditions

 

Also…some terms and conditions of my own… please don’t call that made up number- I cannot guarantee a humorous nerd will answer.

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Things I Know – Day 177 – Heidi’s Fictional Facts

 

https://twitter.com/heidi_w_idieh/status/469011318037835776

 

So I’m giving made up facts a go. Heidi please forgive me.

Introverts are shy. Shy people are rude. I should be loud. Loud people are better, loud people are heard. Which is why I know for sure that climate change is fake, refugees are illegal and mascara will make me confident. So the next day I put on mascara, and I am loud. I tell everyone; people who skip to work are 100% happier, tickling your boss will give you a promotion and all shy people have a telepathic connection.

Also here’s a little observation of mine. If I had time I used to like getting my stories out of the way. They were a big stress and if they were done I could stop freaking out. But lately I’ve been writing them toward the end of my study days as a treat. Is this the beginning of Freya the Writer 2.0?

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Are You Love? – Day 176 – Tash, Sommer and whiney men.

I think Tash and Sommer are in agreeance about privileged white men whining.

 

 

 

I imagine this set out like a kids book.

Ed wanted to find love.

So he looked for love.

“Are you love?” he asked the girl walking home from the bus that night.

But she just clutched her keys a little tighter and scurried off.

“Are you love?” he asked the girl with the purple blooms on her face.

But she just hid her face a little deeper in her scarf.

“Are you love?” he asked the girl with the red lips.

But she just put on more make up.

Ed was looking but he did not see.

Losing faith, he asked one more time.

“Excuse me, I’m looking for love. Are you her?” he asked the girl in a suit.

But she buried her nose further into her book.

Feeling angry and marginalised,

Ed gave up.

 

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BDRGRRS – Day 175 – Sue’s Vogon Govt. Reports

I was getting a little worries that I wasn’t getting any prompts, but asketh the Twitter and thee shall receiveth in abundance! Thank you twitter people! First up it’s Sue’s dislike for reading Government documents.

 

So I’ve given the govt. report style a go. I haven’t had time today to write all 200 pages that would normally be needed so I’ve just written an introduction…

Our Aim: To better understand BDRGRRS and prevent the spread of BDRGRRS for a healthier government workforce.

The annual BDRGRRS report aims to continue to understand BDRGRRS and BDRGRRS sufferers. In this report BDRGRRS stands for Brain Decay Related to Government Report Reading Sessions.

Key Findings:

1. BDRGRRS cases occur most frequently in Government Departments such as Finance and least in Arts related departments.

2. Since the advent of the annual BDRGRRS report. BDRGRRS has risen by 60%

3. BDRGRRS must continue to run in order to better understand preventative health measures for BDRGRRS.

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Delphic – Day 174 – Academic Jargon

Unfortunately it’s that time of semester where everything is due. I’m doing a lot of academic reading and sitting next to a lot of other stressed students in the library. I don’t think many of us enjoy reading unnecessarily complicated academic writing- so I’m going to give it a go in the name of my fellow students. 

She read rhizomatically through incomprehensible dense thickets of theories.

Inundated with delphic propositions she nearly drowned.

To this day she still has hippopotomonstrosesquipedaliophobia.

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Explorer – Day 173 – Sam’s Exotic Place Boredom

Sam sent in many suggestions she also hates “Exotic places made it all better” stories. She liked my “pet redeemed me” story- lets hope this one goes down just as well!

Alejandro was bored of living in the Amazon. He was bored of riding his pet Jaguar, bored of swimming with the pink dolphins, and bored of his pet Tapir. So he packed his things and became an explorer.

He travelled to the furthest most exotic place he could, Canberra. Apparently their jungle was made from concrete, they rode on metal boxes, and their king was an orange man in red undies.

When Alejandro arrived it was just as strange and foreign as he’d imagined. But he had not been prepared for the sad grey suited people that lined the streets or the endless shopping centres filled with useless junk. Even the orange king turned out to spout repetitive hurtful things to the people. Jaguar was a brand of brand of metal box there, dolphins were grey and no one had ever heard of Tapir. He missed his Tapir, it was so sad that no-one here had ever even seen one. 

So he left for home. Knowing how lucky he truly was and what real boredom looked like, he decided to sponsor some poor suited Australians. Each year he takes some to the Amazon and shows them a Tapir. Alejandro has never been bored again. 

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Coles – 172 – Matt’s Dream

Henri was a shift worker. During the day he was an acrobat soaring above the crowd and at night when he woke, he would stack shelves in Coles. Unfortunately it was all a dream and he was left wondering why he was having recurring dreams about Coles. 

Matt hates “it was all a dream stories”. I hope this one is acceptable to you Matt.

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You this Season – Day 171 – JJ’s shopping problems

JJ told me she hates “shopping ‘guides’ where a t-shirt is $450″ It made me wonder what it would be like if we could sell other things like fashion.

This season the titter is the new black. We love Chuckleshop‘s “timeless titter.” At just $450 for a straight brainstallation your laughing. Make sure you don’t get a cheap one as they often have snort-laugh glitches. 

Couple this with Fast Wit‘s new “fun’n’flirty” humour software ($845) this spring and you’ll be the centre of attention at every party. Other Witware is available but getting something that makes you too fast and too intellectual can be unflattering and scare others off (eek!).

Our last pick for this spring is the new natural scent from BYO BO. This fun new company has set up a range of scents that can be injected straight into the glands, and last an entire season so you don’t have to worry about embarrassing BO. We recommend the sultry but fresh “Paris Kiss” (just $600 this spring only).

 

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Giant Part 3 – Day 170 – Samantha’s pet literary hate

For “Conflict in May” I’m stepping it up a bit and asking what type of writing/stories people hate and then attempting it myself. Sam told me she hates “My pet redeemed me” stories. I thought about it and the closest I’d got was my “Giant” series where a Giant befriends a dog called Rupert- I’ve decided it’s time for part 3 of the Giant series. I hope we can still be internet friends after this Sam…

Read Part 1 here

And Part 2 here

Diary,

Others still scared of Giant. Giant and Rupert built cave extension by stealing from them. Giant and Rupert feel selfish. No one to appreciate fine bone mosaic.

Rupert suggest we get pet human. Rupert find perfect human in woods. Human is scruffy with beard and cute glass eye covers. Human even come own metal tag on chain.

One day Human brought back other strays. Poor humans have half shaved heads. Some even have metal bits in their face. Giant and Rupert not selfish. Giant and Rupert open doors to all mistreated humans.

Rupert steal human drink from town (hot brown water). Giant find mushrooms in woods for humans to eat. Giant even play music, Giant only knows one note but humans don’t notice. Humans appreciate bone mosaic too.

Love

Giant

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#MyWritingProcess Blog Tour

I was asked by nice buy Brisbane writer Chris White (see his blog Chris White Writes) to join in the #MyWritingProcess Blog tour (It’s like a normal tour but you don’t have to walk and there are a thousand guides). Alls I need do is answer these four questions and I’m in! 

What are you working on right now?

Right right now? I’m not sure yet-hopefully someone will tell me soon. I’m writing a different short story every day for a year based on people’s suggestions.

How does your work differ from that of other writers in your genre?

Not sure I have a genre. Mostly I’m writing whatever people tell me to – I guess that’s my difference.

Why do you write what you do?

I’m experimenting like a mad writing scientist at the moment. Basically I’m like Jon Snow, I know nothing, so I’m writing every day to learn things and improve. Surely one of the 365 stories I’ll produce this year will be good right? Also I like entertaining people. If one person reads my story for the day and is amused by it then I’m happy.

How does your writing process work?

Panic. Google things. Frown at stuff/people. Bash keyboard (or scribble on paper). Repeat. I’ve written in the middle of loud gigs, art gallery openings on busses in India and on top of waterfalls but the process is pretty much always the same (+ or – googling things depending on internet access).

Now the #MyWritingProcess Blog tour calls for you to ask other bloggers to take over. I’m nominating:

Tiny Owl Workshop

Small publisher, writer, illustrator, oh… and my mum!

AND

Erin Michelle

erin michelle art

Awesome artist and writer too!

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Homebots – Day 169 – James’ stickering

Today worked out in the warehouse at the back of my office, where I met James. We were fixing tags on garments that had been printed wrong by putting stickers on over them. There were hundreds of thousands of tags to fix. He told me stickers annoyed him, which inspired this story. 

Every Homebot has a kind system and a good temperament chip, or so says the box. Jim knows better though, he works in the warehouse fixing all the bot’s emotional systems that malfunction before they hit the shops. The bots often threw tantrums before he fixed them, but soon they were kind and placid as a Homebot should be. Jim was happy in the warehouse away from most people. People scared him, people judged him. As long as he fixed the bots consistently, he’d be left alone to his own devices in the warehouse. But one day a bot threw a spanner in his works. The bot acted just like him.

“That’s okay, I knew I wasn’t good enough,” it said when he told it he needed to make system adjustments.

They talked for much too long, and at the end, Jim still hadn’t changed his systems. Instead he put it back in the box.

“You are good enough, just as you are, Homebot #4000,” he said.