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Research Editor's Picks 1. The Chinese Box 2. Radioactive Flowers 3. The Theft of Legends 4. Twelve Labors of Hercules 5. The Food Chain 6. Overshot 7. 8. 9. Heading 1 Writing Exercises to Remove Writer's Block Heading 2 Access the news for ideas to help overcome Writer's Block Hook About This Newsletter It's May spring is moving into summer, the temperatures are rising-- ascending toward the triple digits-- and businesses are beginning to open their doors. Life appears to be getting back to normal: Is it or are we moving toward a new normal? Whichever there are lots of news stories to stir your imagination this year. Letter From the Editor One of the good things about writing fantasy or science fiction is the ability to place current events into different settings and see what we get. This is an especially good exercise if you are encountering writer's block, which I have been dealing with for some time now. My writer's block concerns stories. I have no trouble starting a poem, but when it comes to a story, I am stuck. I also have difficulty editing the stories I have, but I suspect that is an entirely different issue. Writing Exercise #1 Lora looked at her smartphone, checking the date and temperature. She smiled, it way May 15 and the temperature was 97 degrees and rising. Summer was coming, which--according to the news reports--meant that the virus would no longer kill people or close businesses. She walked toward the front door, pausing only long enough to remove a surgical mask from the coat rack. She hung the mask from her right ear, opened the door, and stepped onto her front porch. What happens after Lora steps onto her front porch? Writing Exercise #2 Greg switched channels. He was tired of listening to news reports that said the same thing in different words. In the past seven days he had heard only one news story that stated a different view. Unfortunately, he could not remember which channel it was on. It was one of those late night news shows. Greg had been dozing on the couch, and switching channels in his sleep, when the word "mutate" woke him up. According, to what he remembered, some scientist said that the triple digit temperatures would mutate the virus instead of killing it. "With any luck," Greg said, turning off the television, "it will turn me into a dragon or some other mythical creature." Greg closed his eyes and went to sleep. What happens when Greg wakes up? Chose one of the above exercises and write a fantasy or science fiction story. Rated 18+ or less. Word Count: 2500 or less. Deadline: Thursday, June 4, 2020. Submit to the newsletter.. Editors Picks
Excerpt: It was a glorious afternoon as I made my way to the second hand store searching for some serendipitous little trinket that had been discarded as junk. I always regarded my trips to the thrift store as a treasure hunt of sorts and would actually find myself becoming quite excited. This world is so full of mystery and surprise you just never know what you’ll discover next. Little did I know that my belief in that very thing was about to change my life forever.
Excerpt: The scavengers always had a hard time doing their job, but especially now that the corporations had sent out their worker monkeys into the fields to “clean up” what they deemed the unsightly mess. Now it was just grass for miles, and a propaganda message that the corporations had done their part against the destruction of the earth despite their constant polluting of the air. Behind that message was a bunch of scavengers now out of a job, and everybody knew it.
Excerpt: “Listen, Jimmy,” said Mort. “If you wanna be the big fish you have to jump in the big pond.”
Excerpt: Time-honored lore in days of yore of men and gods were told. Fabled stories, grief and glories; preserved in myths of old.
Excerpt: Yeah, the biotech industry created this whole fiasco. “Better living through science.” After thousands of years, humans are somewhere I thought we’d never be, bottom of the food chain...
Excerpt: I really shouldn’t be here. And I knew that. Damn did I know that with every fiber of my being, but I continued to flip through a folder with my name on it in the dark like some cockroach. My phone flashlight rested on the table, flooding my three-meter radius with a diamond light. Submitted by Readers Activities, Groups, and Contests
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