Writing Tips Alphabet Series – H is for Hurry

Posted: May 12, 2016 in alphabet series, Creative WRiting
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Sometimes, you have to hurry with your writing. I talked about Goals in my last blog, and how we should all set them and strive to keep them. Sometimes, we make excuses, and sometimes we try to give reasons about why we can’t write. I completely support a lot of those reasons – I’m in a rush, I’m not in a good mood, it’s nearly my bedtime… and I literally had 10 minutes to write just now (Yes, welcome to Amanda’s excuses that nearly talked me out of writing today). I would never compromise any of my stories, so I banged out 1,000 words on something completely new.

And you know what, I’m happy with it! H is for hurry, because sometimes, we just need to write without thinking. Sometimes, we just need to do whatever needs to be done to keep with those goals, with our desired word amount.

And sometimes, if you hurry, something pretty fantastic can come out of it. It’s just a silly little short thing – it’s got spelling and grammar errors, but I think I can do something with it.

H is for Hurry, and since I’m in a hurry to finish this blog, I’m going to end it out with my hurried writing ❤

— Djinn —

Her eyes were open, but she could have sworn that she was still asleep – after all, the fact that was looking down at her had only been a visitor in her nightmares, when the lights were out and the curtains were drawn. He looked at her now with a lewd expression, his handsome face twisted into a charming grin.

She pulled the covers closer, up to her chin; there was a part of her tempted to pull them over her face, as though she were a child. As though pulling them up could make him disappear along with her vision of him.

But she couldn’t, because she couldn’t break eye contact with him – his reddish hues were too engrossing, too hypnotic. Though she tried desperately, she couldn’t look away.

And neither could she scream out like she wanted to – her body trembled with the desire to do so, her heart thudding so hard in her chest that she was sure it would spill from her mouth and echo in the room if she could only part her lips.

But with his gaze heavy on her, she could do nothing of the sort. She could only lay silently in the bed and wonder how he was here, and what he wanted.

She could only lay there and wonder if, sometime between putting on her night shirt and pulling the covers up, she’d misplaced her sanity.

If she had, she desperately wanted to find it, because he took a step closer and she could feel the chill radiating off of him like some dark cloud and permeating her body.

“I’ve been waiting for this day, Lyssandra.” His voice was rich tones that sounded like string music and hellfire, and when he spoke, she could see that his teeth all came to a sharper point than they should have. Everything about him screamed other, but she still couldn’t find her voice to speak, find the strength to run away. She could only lay trembling and helpless in the sheets as he stepped closer, until his tall, sinewy frame leaned over her.

“You’ve been just out of my grasp for so long, though I can tell that you recognize me.” His hand came down, elongated digits chilled as they brushed against her cheek. She tried to jerk away, but instead she trembled.

“You’ve been sworn to me your entire life, child, and I’ve watched you grow into the beautiful young woman that you are… my own little Persephone, as it is. Tell me, do you like to pick flowers?”

Still, she couldn’t speak. She could only let out a small sound that was a catch between a scream and a whimper in her throat, and it only seemed to incite him more, because he leaned and took a seat on the bed beside her.

“Please…” And finally, she spoke. It was barely audible, but he seemed to catch the sound and drink it down. He leaned closer, and his breath smelled like sweets and liquor; all things tempting. She nearly leaned into it, but her shivering body wouldn’t let her.

“Please what, little dove? You can’t tell me that you weren’t expecting this.” But she wasn’t – she’d dreamed about him every night, his soft voice compelling her to step forward into a lake of fog and flame. His chilled digits always took her own, and he pulled her into a dark portal that led to… somewhere. His voice was smooth then, just as it was now, and he he whispered promises of a dark eternity, if only she followed him willingly.

She was willing then, but she wasn’t no.

“Please, no.” And it came out as another meep, but he didn’t seem angry by her denial. If anything, it made him chuckle more.

“Dove, you have no choice. You’re the white lamb, led to slaughter, the sacrifice – the price for the life that your mother leads… the price for your little brother’s life.” He leaned in closer still, and his crimson gaze flickered a swirl of prismatic color, the dark tresses of his hair falling into his handsome features. Impossibly handsome – no man was that handsome. “Do you want me to take that all away, hm?”

Lyssandra pulled up short, another Please No caught in her throat. Take that all away – her little brother, who had been pronounced dead in the womb… her little brother who had to be carried to term anyway.

Her little brother, who was a miracle, because he came out weak but screaming, and otherwise healthy.

“Exactly, Lyssandra. Tell me, should I reverse the promise that your mother made?” His voice changed suddenly, the tone of her mother, “Anything, I’ll promise you anything if you’ll just give me my baby back.”

Anything – and was that price to be her? Lyssandra stared in wide eyed horror. Her mother was famous now, an actress who had no time for the child that she’d apparently bargained a soul that didn’t belong to her for – famous and happy… but her little brother was an innocent soul, incapable of understanding the consequences of Caitlen’s actions.

“I didn’t–”

“But she did, I’m no devil – I can take souls that don’t belong to the wisher.” He grinned, leaning in closer, and his eyes flickered again. “I am Djinn, and I hold no moral obligation to the side of right or wrong. I simply hold obligation to the wisher, in exchange for a prize. And you,” He leaned in closer still, until Lyssandra’s senses were flooded with the sweet scent of his breath, and for a moment, all doubt that she felt was washed away. A fly drawn to honey, a moth to a flame…

A mouse caught in the eyes of a snake.

“You are that prize, and I’ve come to collect – your brother is 18. It’s time to give the devil his due.” And strong arms wrapped around her – darkness engulfed her, and Lyssandra knew nothing more than his harsh embrace and the sound of his rich, rolling laughter as he took her to another realm.

 

So, yes. That’s my hurried 1k a day. Make sure to give yourself at least 10 minutes a day to write, if that’s what you’re trying to do! 10 minutes a day, and whatever you can manage in that time still makes you feel pretty damn awesome. I know I’m okay with what I wrote above!

Until next time, guys! With the letter I!

 

Author Amanda McCormick

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Comments
  1. Jessica M says:

    Great writing! Thoroughly enjoyable. Is this part of a novel, or is it flash fiction? Either way, nice work.

    And yes, we always feel rushed (which is sometimes merely a self-imposed state of mind) and then just end up procrastinating and never writing at all. And then we feel sorry for ourselves because we look back on the past thirty minutes and realize we could’ve just used that time writing. But the usual fix for that is to just /do it!/ Just write!

    Thanks for your tips as always, looking forward to the rest of the alphabet (:

    • Thank you so much! And it’s nothing specific, I just decided to randomly write something off of the top of my head. I knew I was in a hurry, and I didn’t want to try to rush any of my in progress projects, but I wanted my words for the day. So I legitimately just started typing and let it go where it wanted for 1,000 words. I’m actually pretty happy with it.

      ❤ And you are so right. It's easy to feel sorry for yourself. It's harder to do it even when you don't think you can. It's more rewarding when you're finished!!!

      • Jessica M says:

        It’s great, even that it’s off-the-cuff. Very nice, it’s a good premise!

        I think one of the most important things a “new” writer needs to know is that we are our own worst critics. We’ve all this self-doubt, and then when we do get to writing, we take forever because we want it perfect the first time. The key thing to learn, which was a hard one for me to learn, is to just write and not give a crap about how bad it is. We aren’t writing essays for our meticulously condescending 10th grade English teacher anymore!

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