This month we’re celebrating you, our fearless readers, by offering 30 days of reading, writing and networking tips. On October 31st we’ll conclude the festivities by giving one lucky reader a copy of the 2011 Writer’s Market and a goodie bag. Learn how to enter here.

Tip #9: Write more!

Like tip #3, this tip is meant to encourage you to write more. (It’s a writing prompt in disguise!)

“Don’t get it right, just get it written.”

~James Thurber

Prompt #2: Photo Inspiration

Write any length of response to earn 10 extra entries in our giveaway. If you choose to add an anonymous response, but want the extra entires, contact Bridgid.

Photo by Kate Dotson

Click here for a full-sized version of this photo.

11 Responses to “Webby Tips for Writers #9: Write more!”

1. Alicia
   October 9th, 2010 @ 12:44 pm

   I shouldn’t be driving. And I really shouldn’t have had that last shot. I don’t even know what was in it. Maybe vodka with a squirt of something lemony, or maybe it was chocolately…no, that was the shot before.

   Stop thinking about what you drank and concentrate on driving. Focus! On what? Everything is blurry smeared lines, except that one car way up ahead. Maybe if I speed up just a little and use that car as my guide, I might make it home in one piece and without another DUI. At this point, I’m pretty sure they’d throw me in jail not just for driving drunk (and stoned–damn Jeremy and his awesome pot), but also for driving on a suspended license.

   I wonder what those kids are watching in that car in the next lane. Some day, when I settle down and have a family, I’m going to get me one of those mommy-mobiles with a built-in DVD player. Of course, the beast I’m driving would probably fit five kids. Since my parents didn’t need the Suburban anymore, it became mine when I left for college. It’s great for carting around all my friends to parties. Tonight, though, it’s just me.

   Oh, they’re watching Tinker Bell. I’ve always loved Disney movies. I can tell the little girl is glued. I wonder if the baby is old enough to pay attention, too.

   I don’t remember this freeway having any major hills, but it must, because we’re going down. And it’s bumpy.

   That lady should really be paying attention to the road and not me. Why is everyone in the car staring at me? They look scared. And where did all those trees come from?

   The newspaper headline the next day: FAMILY OF FOUR KILLED BY A DRUNK DRIVER

2. bridgid
   October 11th, 2010 @ 10:17 am

   Again, Alicia — wow! I love that you just go for it.

   Any advice for lurkers who may be considering adding their own response?

3. Alicia
   October 11th, 2010 @ 10:29 am

   Advice? Hmmm. I think just write. The first thing that comes to mind, just write it. Most of the time I don’t know what’s going to happen, I just start typing and it creates itself. I really think this is my favorite type of writing where I don’t have a word limit or the pressure of turning it into a book.

4. bridgid
   October 11th, 2010 @ 10:45 am

   That’s perfect! Thanks, Alicia. I know that I’m guilty of over-thinking…that and failing to hit the “send” (or “submit”) button.

   Thank you so much for participating in our writing prompts! If you don’t win the giveaway, you’re sooo getting a special prize for general awesomeness.

   –

   Any lurkers want to comment on why they tend to shy away from posting their work? I’d love to hear your thoughts.

   How about this — respond to this comment with your thoughts on posting your work (and why it’s scary!) and you’ll get 3 extra contest entries.

   Comment on!

5. E. Cluff Elliott
   October 11th, 2010 @ 2:18 pm

   Three states and four tanks of gas later, a plethora of empty Styrofoam coffee cups on the floorboard and here I am.

   First place is where I thought I was, but with all these tracers and less than an hour of sleep in the past 48 hours, I can’t be sure. Reality has begun to twist—just like Butler suggested—and it’s twisting me with it. My body feels heavy; my eyes sting from constant use; my ass is asleep from the waist down, and the throb inside my head has been with me long enough that I’ve named the bastard—Carl the Cranial Burden.

   Back in Death Valley—where all the great races seem to start or stop, and if they don’t, they should—48 hours ago and surrounded by some of the riskiest drivers from around the world. These included some of the NASCAR flunkies, a car thief from Roister, Illinois, two Asian kids that couldn’t be more than 14 and spoke less English than an Alzheimer patient, a foxy bombshell that had to be seven feet tall and spoke not at all, and the man in black—our host.

   “You contestants have been chosen to participate in a one of a kind event,” the man in black said, “one, if you happen to live through it, that will change your life forever. Does anyone here know how sleep deprivation works?” There were murmurs of agreement around the small circle of drivers but as for an in-depth explanation, there was none. “Good. Now on to the race,” the man in black continued, “You each have been assigned a vehicle to operate. Each vehicle is a mirror image to the one next to it. No one will have the upper hand and there will be no tampering with you machine. If you do, I will know, and you will be disqualified…in a manner of speaking, any questions?” More murmurs, but no questions.

   It feels like that was ages ago, another life perhaps, but I know I’m the one holding First so that’s at least somewhat comforting. The way I know is the Rank Generator sealed into the dashboard above the stereo. Sounds ridicules, doesn’t it. I thought so too but once we all headed out from the desert, I saw at once that it worked exactly as it should’ve, and that was only the tip of the berg. The rest of the car was as rigged as a Hollywood special effect, enough so, I can’t begin to guess what all there is under the hood. But one things for sure, if you’re behind the wheel of one of these vehicles, you can feel the man in black watching you—the lenses scattered throughout the car made sure of that.

   Moments after a Buick passed me on the right, I felt the first nod threaten my consciousness with sleep deprivation. The next one sent me to last place and well…you know; the end of the line where the curtain draws close and the lights dim to reveal the afterlife.

   Watch for the man in black…and stay away.

6. bridgid
   October 11th, 2010 @ 3:29 pm

   Thanks for participating, Cluff!

   Great story.

7. Alicia
   October 11th, 2010 @ 5:50 pm

   Awesome Cluff. You never disappoint!

8. Webby Tips for Writers #15: Writing is Good for You : Inky Fresh Press
   October 15th, 2010 @ 10:10 am

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9. Janel
   October 19th, 2010 @ 6:22 pm

   She swerved to the left, narrowly missing an expensive looking sports car. It was hard enough driving at night on a normal day. With tears streaming down her face and an alcohol-induced lead foot it was nearly impossible to negotiate the freeway tonight.

   A semi-truck blasted it’s horn as she cut in front of it. She didn’t care. Nothing really mattered now. Two days ago she ordered her wedding dress from an expensive bridal salon. Today she found him in bed with his assistant. She saw the way he looked at the slut at the office picnic last month, but she just stared at her massive engagement ring and forced the doubts out of her mind.

   He begged her to forgive him, still become his wife. She blasted into the right lane and passed a motorcycle whose rider flipped her the bird. He wanted to pretend nothing had happened, that he hadn’t been caught doing the nasty with someone else.

   Red and blue lights flashed in her rearview mirror. She wondered what to do with the house they had just bought together. The one with the bed he had shared with her and his tramp on the same day.

10. bridgid
    October 19th, 2010 @ 6:48 pm

    Thanks for participating, Janel! I love how you balance your character’s actions with her emotions and memories. Nice work!

11. Webby Tips for Writers #21: Write! : Inky Fresh Press
    August 11th, 2011 @ 10:30 am

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