Reading into things for me always turns out to be write. – Ash
The circus is over, now comes the real fun…
Writing’s a breeze when you start by airing out your thoughts first. – Ash
I look at a blinking cursor as the beating of the heart of my story. It’s up to me to keep it alive. – Ash
To feel paper. To glide my pen across a page. To smell leather. To move a silk bookmark from one day to the next. To journal, to write. – Ash
When I can’t write, I read. I’ve since been reading, and now I’m writing again. That’s how stories go. – Ash
Coffee shops for me are a mood. Sometimes changing the writing mood can put you in a writing mood. – Ash
I don’t realize how many blank pages there are until I start writing. – Ash
Hand me a pen, and I’ll give you emotion. – Ash
The blazing gunfight ended a few moments ago. Cindy-Anne and Darby sit on a small hill, smoke cigarettes, while trying to catch their breath, and silently scour the bodies spread out all over the property in relief. Young Darby purses his lips, puffs a big “O,” and breaks the blaring silence.
Cindy-Anne, you’re going to be the death of me you do know that? You’re lucky I showed up when I did.
Whatever, Darby. I was doing just fine before you came and ruined my fun. I had it under control.
Under control alright. Billy Watson was about five seconds away from blowing that pretty little head of yours clean off those pretty little shoulders. Missed that part, did ya? Well, I’m sure glad he did.
Continue reading “Story Jots # 17 – Shooting from the Hip”
Earth To Ash 