Urgh.

[wild_dreamer]

Writer's block sucks ass.

Ten million things to be working on, any one of them will do, and there's nothing.

Even something new would be welcomed, a short story that I can scribble out and finish off.

Nothing.

So I issue a challenge to myself: Anyone who wants to can comment with a subject and I'll attempt to write at least 300 words on it, ten to twenty minutes of writing. It might be total crap, but it'll give me a direction and get the fingers moving.

The more, the merrier! I'll take fannish subject matter (as long as I'm familiar with the fandom/pairing/character/whatever) as well as random essay subject.

Okay, go! *Points to comment boxes and hovers over the keyboard in anticipation.*

Comments

[fmtenpo.livejournal.com]

i'v really wanted to see you do... a thing with werewolves...or maybe little coyote...

[onnakitty.livejournal.com]

Little Coyote, hmm?
---

The dirt is hot beneath her bare feet, mouth opening in a feral grin as her eyes track the sway of grasses in the meadow before her. Her sharp gaze picks out a pair of familiar shapes downwind of the deer she's tracking, and she lets out the sharp, barking cry that she was named for, startling the creature into a frozen stillness that won't last long.

Swift feet carry her across the meadow's dry grass toward the young buck, still barking, and her cries turn into a victorious howl as he abruptly bolts towards her hidden companions.

Her howl is echoed in twain as they corner the beast, the two coyotes bringing him down as she runs to join them, all three bearing the same feral expression. Her laughter is reminiscent of a wild dog's hungry chattering as she leaps, landing with her knees on the shoulders of the fallen animal. Her stone knife slides easily through the buck's throat as her other hand finds a grip on one rough antler, spilling his life's blood to the earth as she releases him from the agony of a slow death and the reckless tearing of her companions' teeth.

The wild laughter subsides into a low, keening howl, and then fades as she brings slick fingers up to her mouth, tastes the still-warm blood in a ritual motion that paints her lips in crimson. She throws her head back in a long, deep howl, joined by the eerie resonating cries of the two coyotes for a long moment before she cuts it off entirely, getting to her feet.

It's an easy thing for her to hoist the deer onto her shoulders, small though she may be. She makes her way back to the resting place of her clan with a swaying stride, singing a song of triumph under her breath as she goes, followed by her two silent companions.

~Fin~

[rotatlin.livejournal.com]

300 words about yourself. I demand them.

[onnakitty.livejournal.com]

More like 500, for you. Thanks.
----

Why write three hundred words about myself when the most important thing can be summed up in two? "I am."

But you want to know more.

I am a contradiction. Wise beyond my years, and yet so young and insecure. I am amazing, but my darkness scares even myself. Perhaps it scares me more that anyone else, because I'm the one who sees it most often. I hope that my good outweighs my bad, but from the inside one never really knows.

I tend to be a very spiritual person, finding the magic inside of myself. When I forget that, when I lose touch with that deep-running magic, those are the times when I feel truly down. When I can close my eyes and breathe the magic, those are times when I'm amazing, when everything is just so very right, and through all of this it comes and goes like the tide.

I'm like a river, ever-changing, ever-growing, but always the same. I'm a Cancer, governed by the moon and my emotions, so I am the sort of person who is never the same two days in a row.

In high school, my outfits were as varied as my moods and emotions, my closet a constant surprise. One day I would be dressed in pleather pants and a shirt as revealing as I could get away with, within the confines of my modesty, unashamed to show off my figure. Another day, a short pleated skirt and white top, tall socks and mary jane shoes, the typical anime schoolgirl. Another day, jeans and a sweater, worn with a cat-ear headband and a fluffy tail. I was hated, adored, talked about. The middle school students would give me scornful looks in the halls and I ignored them. My classmates smiled and awaited the next entertaining change in attire, in attitude.

I'm all over the map in almost everything I do. I'm sweet and innocent, and yet I'm quirky and kinky. I'm a punk rock girl at heart, boots, fishnets, short skirt and tank top, but I'm also the comfortable jeans and a t-shirt good girl. My music tastes range from classical to country to heavy rock, with the occasional instance of rap found despite my protest that it's the one genre I dislike.

I am open and honest, and yet I am quiet and deceitful, roundabout and clever. Incredibly intelligent, and yet sometimes I am just so dumb about one thing or another. I'm a know-it-all fountain of random semi-useless facts and information, and missing practical knowledge in certain things. I am jaded and naive.

I'm beautiful, and I'm plain. I'm a writer, with eloquent words and prose that comes straight from something deep inside. Sometimes I can't find the words to tell you how I feel, I'm at a loss for how to explain things. I can write emotions so deeply that I make people laugh or cry, but I can't always put mine into words.

To bring it back to the plain and simple... I am.

~Fin~