I'm featuring some work from authors that sent in feedback to my last newsletter and some that just caught my eye. I hope you enjoy them as much as I did.
Excerpt:
An old man once told me that you should always take a deep breath and think about your life. He always said, "If you let life pass you by, then you've wasted your time." I'm not sure how much of that rings true, however I am sure that you do have to take some time out to think about things. That is what writing things down does for me, that's why I'm sitting here with a quill pen and my journal writing out a lifetime of events that if anyone ever figures out how to read, they won't believe it as anything but pure fiction. But, I'm okay with that, after all even Sherlock is thought of as fiction, just the way he always would have wanted it.
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Excerpt:
Grayson dreamed of ashes. He dreamed of fire, and of the clashing of steel. He heard cries of agony in all directions, but there was nothing he could do to help them. He wanted the screaming to stop. He wanted desperately for it to stop. Footsteps echoed on the cobblestone streets, they were coming for him. He looked around him and found a shard of glass from a shattered window of a nearby building, and clenched it in his fist, and he felt it cut into his hand. But he didn't let his grip falter. He didn't want to die. He refused to die.
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Excerpt:
Everybody dreams.Though some people do not remember what they dream in sleep and claim that they do not dream.Dreaming is a mental situation and anyone can contemplate it.The fact is that we live in two worlds.Firstly when we are awakened and secondly when we are in sleep.We are consciously aware of awakened state but we are unaware and unconscious to the happenings in the dreams.Sometimes we contemplate sweet and happy dreams and at times bad and strange dreams disturb our mind.
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Excerpt:
In the time before the first branch of The Mabinogion the forefathers of those great heroes carved out their own legends . Some say the tales were part of the oral history of what is Present day Wales. Others believe the fabric between worlds was much thinner, providing a more liminal explanation. No one seems to know who these heroes were or which side of the veil they were on. Perhaps only the dead remember? In that time Gwydion Pwyll ap Llyr was chieftain of Dyved when the Old tribes were Young. The races lived in relative harmony and magic was never questioned.
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Excerpt:
As she stared at her reflection she tried to comprehend what she was looking at. There was a girl, no more than that, dressed all in white with far too much makeup caked on her face and her hair pinned up in an impossibly complicated mess that looked as if it would be infuriating and possibly painful to untangle. There was an incessant buzzing behind her, the incomprehensible giggling and chatter emanating from her gang of bridesmaids glugging champagne as if it were water. Yes a gang, all six of them. She didn't even really know all of them, not properly. Only one of them was meant to be there and even she was oblivious to the fear growing underneath the mask of the conventional, yet affluent, bride.
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Excerpt:
One wonders why I love to write
The answer is simple
The pen and the paper
They act as my safe harbor
They serve as a place
Where I can tell no lies, break no promises
What I write comes from the heart
And nothing more
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Excerpt:
So please instead of labeling me as "lost" or ignoring what I have to say... I would like someone to answer these questions, if they can, because if anything.... while I live... My only wish is that people would learn to appreciate, accept, and work together so that life is easier to cope with in the daily challenges it presents us with.
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Excerpt:
Ask a writer why voice is important in writing and most will answer like this. " Voice is the distinct personality, style , or point of view of a piece of writing or any other creative work."
When writing for fun, using your own creative voice is OK. Your friends and family have a clue about your personality. Your writing should have as much personality as you do. Acquaintances are more likely to understand one of your pieces then a stranger.
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Excerpt:
On the front of a rather plain looking blue house, there were three card tables set up on the lawn, various boxes and jars scattered on them. In front of them was a rather plain looking sign, a piece of cardboard attached to a stake in the ground. Scrawled on it in marker was the message: YARD SALE. PRICES NEGOTIABLE. Next to the sign was an older man, sitting in a folding chair, a cigarette dangling off his lip. He had on a denim jacket, a baseball cap, some dark black slacks, and the expression of someone who seemed to walk around perpetually pissed off.
Nevertheless, Ali was intrigued.
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Excerpt:
A curse upon me, that bird did lay.
It sent the night on me to prey.
An ill omen sitting gently on fluffed wing
Shook my soul into despairing.
Who could ever foretell
Or guess the ancient right or spell,
That would change a fragile bird
Into something so malicious, in a word?
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