Guess Who Wrote This…

655936The One That Got Away

I had been so young; 18.  That’s all.  What did I know of love?  Imagine being so pure and suddenly meeting this tall, muscular, blond, green eyed man.  He had watched me from across the room, for several hours that night, when I was 18.  He never spoke, but I remember how he held a drink in his hand, one foot propped up on the wall behind him, his knee bent, where he would lay his other hand.  I was wild that night, I laughed and I made the other men do my bidding, at 18.  When I turned to leave, he suddenly said out loud, before any other could speak, “I’ll take you home.”  Yes, why not?  Why not conquer him as I had the others.

The next day he called, as he did every day after.  He made every effort to meet me.  He would kiss me.  I had never been kissed like this before, never been touched like this…before I was 18.  The days flowed and blended, and it only mattered when we met and kissed.  Then he taught me, with small and very soft touches, about love.  He told me to caress and I did.  He told me to move and I did.  The nights were so cold outside but inside… inside we loved.  Even now I remember the strength of his skin, the warmth of his body and the green eyes that I saw in the moonlight, when I was 18.

After days of love, after weeks and months of it, I began to look around, during other parties, at other men who had green eyes as well.  Lately, when we touched I felt that perhaps there was more, more than this man, more than these kisses.  I began to see less of him, until I almost dreaded hearing his voice, calling me to come to him.  I explained…I tried to explain how I no longer cared as much.  I remember the last time we met, and how he loved me with a ferocity that frightened me.  He held me close enough to make me lose my breath.  He dug into me with such a need that I thought the muscled arms would break me.  But they didn’t.  And I walked out, I had to get away, while thinking of others, at 19.

Guess who wrote this story.  He/She has been a member for quite a few years.

The first person to guess who it is. Will win a “Writer’s Sidekick for Novels,” sponsored by Andres Fragoso, Jr.

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Q & A Where does the punctuation go…

Quotes

Q&A

Here is another very important question from Marshal Prescott.

Let’s all give him our answers as we see it.

Where does the punctuation go, before or after the quotation marks? 

Why is it done that way?

Q & A – Show vs Tell

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Show Vs Tell

Important Questions answered by a Community of Writers

Marshal Prescott has an important question to ask us.  Let’s help him out by giving him an answer that may help him. If you know of resources that he can go to, please provide them.

Please write a paragraph of the above scene and give us an example of show vs tell, to hone in your answer.

Q:  I have noticed there has been a lot of telling in the readings lately. I know that we are supposed to show not tell. But is there any rules regarding telling. In other words, what makes telling more acceptable?  Is it more acceptable if the telling flows smoothly and contains more character attributes?

A: by Andres Fragoso, Jr.  –  I find that when you write a novel or a long piece of literature I tend to try to show more, to make the story more detailed with scent, sight, feel, and sometime taste (I don’t know what that means, do we take the book or kindle and lick it?). However when I’m writing a short story or flash fiction, I tend to tell more often and show when its a strong scene.

Tell – John was too tired to walk all the way home. He found a park bench, sat down and leaned his head back. He fell asleep exhausted.

Show – John could barely walk, his ears rang  to the absent grunge beat from hours ago, his sharp mind now confused. Thinking back to the slim guy trying to seduce him. He was uncomfortable and confused, he knew he had to leave and go home safe. With each inhale of cool bay breeze he thanked the universe that allowed him to clear his lungs from the heavy hookah and Janga someone sneaked in at the lounge. The realization that he ate brownies gave him a chill, realizing that he could have been raped. The determination of getting home safely was starting to fade as his eyes could barely stay open. With slow strides forward and his surroundings starting to light up he bumped on to a bench. His heart skipped a beat, he felt a light from the heavens shine on the bench for him to sit and rest. The light flickered and dissapeared, he looked up and saw that the light post turned off in series with the others. The cold, wet metal passed through his jeans and gave him a strange sensation. Not caring he backed onto the bench getting his back wet. With a shiver he leaned his head back, took a deep, cleansing breath scented with jasmine and roses. Zzzzzzzz.

Looking forward to others’ answer to this question.