jade_sabre: (s&s:  elinor writing)
[personal profile] jade_sabre
pick a--a world, any world I've written in or that you've seen me write in, fandom or original, whatever. And then prompt me on it. Any prompt, be it something you've always wanted me to write, or something you've always wanted to read, or--whatever. Anything.

Hit me with it. I wanna write something.


Quark: hmm
"know that aching pull"
Jade: it's the stretch of the burn scar on his chest
it itches when Mai touches it, and tugs when Katara is near.
the end)

(no subject)

Date: 2010-03-01 01:23 am (UTC)
From: [identity profile] mysteree80.livejournal.com
Nope. >:( Not until you show me what you wrote off my "dressed in blue" prompt!

(no subject)

Date: 2010-03-01 01:24 am (UTC)
From: [identity profile] jade-sabre-301.livejournal.com
oh crap

where was that


I can actually share what I wrote. lemme find it...

(no subject)

Date: 2010-03-01 01:26 am (UTC)
From: [identity profile] jade-sabre-301.livejournal.com
okay so

what happened was

there was this writing contest? The ND Literary Festival? And the prompt was like "Writer's Block: Breaking Barriers" and I took both of them...fairly literally, and didn't win anything.

and so what follows was my entry

and yes, it looked exactly like it does as I post it here.

(no subject)

Date: 2010-03-01 01:28 am (UTC)
From: [identity profile] jade-sabre-301.livejournal.com
Unwritten, A Eulogy
A Eulogy, Half-written
by Jade

[This is totally unedited/unformatted/I don’t even know, but here you go.]

There is a [holocaust/massacre] in this world, unspoken, unarticulated. Affecting millions, indiscriminate in its choice of victim, it claims [for itself? is there an itself?] dreams and waking moments alike. Everyone is haunted by its specter; everyone [unable to express, synonyms], hides in shame.

No more. I am one of its victims, and today I choose to speak.

This is for my babies, my stories, stillborn, miscarried, aborted not by choice but by the whims of inspiration. They have begun and begun [and begun?] again, or ended, beautifully, but lacking sinews or [spine] or a heart they languish in the forgotten corners of my mind, shrouded in guilt and carefully buried under the obligations of the here-and-now. I unearth them, not to investigate the crime of their death, but to learn whether or not there is something precious and forgotten, salvageable from the grave.

There will always be something infinitely sexy unspoken between them.

There is a beautiful girl trapped on the island.

The first time she saw him he was dressed in blue. There were five ways she never met the boy in blue.

When she appeared on his doorstep—when he appeared on her doorstep, she wasn’t sure whether or not she wanted to invite him in; part of her just wanted to savor the sight of him, miserable and cold and looking as if she were the only one who would save him.

“Do you have any idea,” he said, “what kind of gift you have given me?”


Something new and tenuous had been forged. Fragile, stepped on.]


And when it ends, you have tears in your eyes but you’re not crying, because it’s not really sad, it’s just over.

[more metaphors?]

(no subject)

Date: 2010-03-02 03:52 am (UTC)
From: [identity profile] mysteree80.livejournal.com
Woot, thanks for finally sharing!

I must confess, however, that I didn't really understand it. I'm guessing much of the unfinishedness of it was deliberate, yes? Can you elaborate on what you were going for so I can kick myself for missing it?

(no subject)

Date: 2010-03-02 04:03 am (UTC)
From: [identity profile] jade-sabre-301.livejournal.com

well, it's about "writer's block," so the lines hanging out by themselves are all from unfinished things I've written, or stories that never got started

and then it's about "breaking barriers" so it's stylistically unusual, which also ties into the writer's block, because sometimes you get stuck so you just leave stuff in brackets or are like "make this better," and so...

I thought it all meshed well with the prompt, but apparently the judges didn't think so. Or else they were like, wtf isn't this finished. Which is, in fact, the point. So. :-b

(no subject)

Date: 2010-03-02 06:06 pm (UTC)
From: [identity profile] mysteree80.livejournal.com
Haha, well done. Yeah, I'm guessing the judges didn't read as much into it as they should've! Alas, it's still a valiant, experimental effort. :)

(no subject)

Date: 2010-03-02 06:08 pm (UTC)
From: [identity profile] jade-sabre-301.livejournal.com

*pokes* so what're you up to, mr. PhD?

(no subject)

Date: 2010-03-03 03:50 am (UTC)
From: [identity profile] mysteree80.livejournal.com
Truth: I'm often lurking invisibly on gchat and wanna hit you up, but you always have the red Busy signal.

also, check your messages

Date: 2010-03-01 01:30 am (UTC)
From: [identity profile] jakia.livejournal.com

Dragon Age?

KOTOR. Totally do some KOTOR related.

good use of time! I approve.

Date: 2010-03-01 01:32 am (UTC)
From: [identity profile] jakia.livejournal.com
Umm umm.


And dragons.


Or a unicorn.


Re: good use of time! I approve.

Date: 2010-03-01 01:40 am (UTC)
From: [identity profile] jade-sabre-301.livejournal.com

I am making myself read an essay

and then write something

so you're next

after Forster


Date: 2010-03-01 06:55 am (UTC)
From: [identity profile] jade-sabre-301.livejournal.com
even writing these things off the top of my head, they are turning out too long, SO, here is a rejected version of the "finds a unicorn" scene (dialogue-only, I'm afraid):

HK, having spotted a unicorn: Are there any virgins in the group?

Carth: Don't look at me, I was married. I have a kid, for crying out loud.

Canderous: Like that means anything.

Carth: You say another thing about my wife and I'll--Marein?

Marein, the Asian PC: *shifty eyes*

Carth: But...you're a Jedi...

Canderous: Like that means anything.

Bastila: *outraged look*

Carth: ...or at least...you were...and I thought Jedi didn't...

Marein: Um...so, it's all really hazy, but let's just say...You know, before it got...cut off or whatever...Malak had, um, a pretty nice jawline. I think.

Carth: *looks a little green*

Et al: ...

Bastila: I have vague memories of the other Padawans being infatuated with him...not me of course.

Canderous: Of course.

Bastila: *outraged look*

Marein: Can we just...uh...move on?

Carth: Yeah. Yeah. That would, um, be great.

Mission, in the background: CAN I KEEP THE PONY?


your other not-drabbles are coming.

(no subject)

Date: 2010-03-01 03:41 am (UTC)
From: [identity profile] fathomlesssky.livejournal.com
it's the stretch of the burn scar on his chest
it itches when Mai touches it, and tugs when Katara is near.
the end)

*has no useful prompt* Just commenting to say that I LOVE that.

(no subject)

Date: 2010-03-01 06:57 am (UTC)
From: [identity profile] jade-sabre-301.livejournal.com
she was like "prompt"

and I was like "oh duh that's easy I know what that is"

I am glad you liked it! :-D

(no subject)

Date: 2010-03-01 04:43 am (UTC)
From: [identity profile] loquaciousquark.livejournal.com
Finish that Nevalle, "blank" one.
From: [identity profile] jade-sabre-301.livejournal.com
also: gratuitous icon usage

wedding: a drabble in three

She refuses to get married in the City in the autumn in the grand temple of Tyr, but agrees to host half the Neverwinter Court in her Keep in the dead heat of summer at an outdoor wedding. Neeshka steals the pearls for her neck and Khelgar makes the rings; Gann coaxes spirits out of the silent Sword Coast earth and weaves a canopy, reluctantly, while Safiya's servants try to learn the lay of the land before the guests arrive. More than once he finds them twitching on the ground after hitting a wall where they thought there ought to be a door; their sense of logic is keen, but fails to place reality in their equations.


She says she'll do her own hair and find her own dress, and anyone who knows the Knight Captain of Crossroad Keep is surprised at this insistence. Not that she is independent, but that she would fail to grasp the riches at her command. Her groom-to-be, with riches of his own, is unable to escape the ministrations of his fellow courtiers, and though she is the hostess he is the one who does the hosting, showing everyone to their rooms while she hides in his tower behind his locked door. He catches glimpses of her, but the women who cannot flock around her are at least determined to flock around his door and keep them apart.


Their engagement is a short, fickle thing, dismissed by some as a spring love but known by others to have survived a fall frost and a deep snow. She is a dandelion tossed on the wind and he is the dry earth on which she lands, and what grows between them is a surety that needs no words. If she stumbles, he steadies her with his hands; if he frowns, she flicks it away with her fingers; in the spaces between, they laugh.


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