Tagged: seduction

“And That’s How I Came To Write The Flying Nun”

  • by jenmuttering they strolled
  • well, he looked obscene
  • came to write The Flying Nun
  • only a naked young girl lying spread-eagled
  • raging in his aged skull
  • I know you’re part Indian!
  • editor of this lunatic volume

“And that’s how I came to write The Flying Nun for half a season,” Devlin du Mauvais said, then added, “They fired me for obscenity.”

“Obscenity?” asked Delight. “Do tell!” She loved everything obscene, especially Devlin because, well, he looked obscene even fully dressed.

“It was only a naked young girl lying spread-eagled on the altar, but they took offense.”

Delight giggled at Devlin and the wickedness raging in his aged skull.

“I found the most remarkable book today,” she said, and showed him The Saga of Hieronymus Warhol. “You’re a character in it!”

Devlin snatched the tome and riffled through its pages. “I must find the editor of this lunatic volume, as well as the authors, and eviscerate them!”

While he continued muttering they strolled into the bedroom where Delight was to perform an erotic skit for her demon lover.

After donning her chaps and spurs, she began. “I know you’re part Indian!

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Dizzy Fracas

Today we offer two versions of the same prompt, one written by Kent and one by Jen. This prompt is a simplified form of the stichomancy prompts we use most often. Instead of phrases or sentence fragments, we have a short list of words that must be included.

  • dizzy
  • fracas
  • gender
  • curve

k-avatarKent’s take:

In the tumultuous midst of a fracas

Said the dizzy lad, “Here’s where your mistake is

Although I’m quite slender

I assure you my gender

Has no curve: my bosom all fake is.”

by jen

 

Jen’s take:

“All I said was I like the gender with curves,” Sam said, gazing out the window at the flaming chaos below.

Gina replied, “Well, Samantha, this is a pretty conservative town. An announcement like that coming from the new librarian is bound to make some of the gentry dizzy.”

“I suppose you’re right. I should have expected it. But, Gina, this fracas is making me horny. Take off your spectacles and kiss me!”

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Fear-Joy

Today we offer two versions of the same prompt, one written by Jen and one by Kent. This prompt is a simplified form of the stichomancy prompts we use most often. Instead of phrases or sentence fragments, we have a short list of words that must be included.

  • concerned
  • concentration
  • fear-joy
  • murderous physicians

by jenJen’s take:

Murderous physicians fill me with fear-joy,” Joanne told her concerned therapist. “Doctors in general frighten me with their looks of caring concentration, their probing questions, their needles, and nasal-lights. And yet, their deadly intentions, the dangers they represent, are a turn-on.”

 

k-avatarKent’s take:

Fear-joy heightened all Carlos’s senses in the waiting room. The idea that he was perhaps waiting to see one of the murderous physicians he’d read about made him giddy, stoking the fetishistic core of his mind to a white glow. He directed all his concentration at a magazine. Outwardly, no one would know of his agitation. He did not look at all concerned.

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“I Don’t Understand”

  1. k-avatarCharacter – porn actress Turkish Delight
  2. Setting – vestibule of the time travel agency
  3. Object – camcorder
  4. Situation – need to find the black market

“I don’t understand.”

“Istanbul was Constantinople. Now it’s Istanbul, not Constantinople.”

“Just sell me a ticket.”

A notched blue card popped out of the slot in the counter.

“Two dollars.”

“Wow. Thought I was cheap.”

“We invest it hundreds of years ago. Compound interest…”

“Thanks.” Turkish Delight bent to pick up her bags, and every male in the room locked on like a radar defense grid. She slung the camcorder bag over her shoulder and surveyed the assortment of geeky tourists. The one in full plate mail caught her eye, but the logistics were alarming to consider. Loincloth, too far the other way… There! The Renaissance rogue. Very tasty.

Delight swayed over to him, enjoying his confident smirk at her approach. She batted her dark eyes.

“Hello,” he said, in a voice that made her knees weak. “You look familiar.”

Delight smiled shyly. “I get that a lot. My name’s Dee.”

“I’m Jacob.”

“Well, Jacob,” Delight purred, “I’m making a movie. Want to be in it?”

“Absolutely!”

“Great. Hope Constantinople is on your itinerary.”

“As a matter of fact, yes. When we’re done making movies, maybe you can help me.”

“Oh really? How?”

Jacob patted the bulging leather satchel hanging at this side. It seemed to shift a bit in protest.

“I need to find the black market.”

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Fine-Grained Collaboration

r-avatarUsually when Rune Skelley is writing a novel, the workload is divided up by scene. Kent and Jen work in parallel, each at his or her own desk, on his or her own computer, writing his or her own scene. We have both gotten pretty good at writing in the Rune Skelley voice, and our personal idiosyncrasies are smoothed out during editing. The Kent scenes become more Jen, the Jen scenes become more Kent.

Our current project has introduced a new wrinkle to our writing partnership. In a move that seems to be related to creating stubs, Jen has recently started writing little micro-scenes and then handing them over to Kent to finish. These differ from stubs in that they are, more or less, fully formed prose. Really brief sections of fully formed prose.

The first one was a seduction. Jen knew exactly how a pivotal point in the characters’ interaction would play out. Rather than risk losing its spark by summarizing it, or losing it altogether by backburnering it until it was time to write the whole scene, she typed up the part she knew, capturing the eroticism of the moment beautifully.

Kent had the challenge of working up to that exact moment, and then back out of it again, without disturbing it. He did a brilliant job, which emboldened Jen to write up several more micro-scenes that were rattling around in her head.

It’s a tricky way to work when you’re collaborating. A solo author can do exactly as he or she wants at any given point in the composition process. When you’re working with a writing partner, you need to be mindful about too many constrictions.

We believe that boundaries spark creativity, but too many boundaries can cause paralysis. A partner is a boundary of sorts, placing constraints on what you write, but in a good partnership that limitation paradoxically becomes a source of greater inspiration.

Dr Clamdigger Strolled in the Gentle Surf

  1. k-avatarCharacter – oversexed physics professor
  2. Setting – tropical island
  3. Object – wasp
  4. Situation – splitting headache

Dr Clamdigger strolled in the gentle surf, admiring the student body. She acted aloof, but he knew she was admiring him, too, as she lay propped up on a towel halfway up the beach.

Yes, teaching physics at Cayman U was a great gig.

Dr Clamdigger altered course and placed his prodigious shadow over the coed’s bikini-clad torso (and, for the most part, her legs).

“You’re blocking the sun,” she protested petulantly.

“Impossible,” Dr Clamdigger said. “The sun is a star, a seething fusion reactor, while I am,” he ran his hand down his hirsute belly, “but flesh.”

“Well, Skipper –”

“That’s Professor!”

“– whatever. You might want to move.”

“So you can work on your tan lines?”

A volleyball ricocheted off Dr Clamdigger’s head. He swayed, but the sunbathing student didn’t flinch.

“Yeah, that too.”

Dr Clamdigger staggered into the waves and collapsed, not hearing the calls of, “Dude! Little help? That’s our ball!”

As the warm salt water lapped at his sides, Dr Clamdigger saw his nemesis chatting up the pretty student. It was Professor Henderson, showing off his pet wasps again.

Damn entomologists get all the chicks.

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Under The Hood

During October we will be sharing passages that we’ve written independently from the same prompt.

  • under the hood
  • devastating fire
  • don’t punish me for being scared
  • Your stranger-self
  • legs of my corduroys

Jen’s Take

by jenUnder the hoodie, her red hair took on the smoky shadows of a devastating fire and her green eyes glinted, causing the legs of my corduroys to suddenly seem inadequate.

“Is that a pistol in your pocket,” she asked, “or are you just happy to see me?”

Dammit. I was hoping she wouldn’t notice. This was my first time meeting someone in person whom I’d chatted with online.

Don’t punish me for being scared,” I pleaded, sounding utterly pathetic.

She smiled disdainfully. “Your stranger-self was more interesting online.”

 

Kent’s Take

Your stranger-self can be terrifying, so don’t punish me for being scared when I saw it the first time. It inflamed my flight impulse, and, as I ran, the friction in the legs of my corduroys kindled a devastating fire, until I had to stop and quench those writhing flames. And so you caught up, no longer the stranger but just yourself, with soft brown eyes peering quietly from under the hood of your sweatshirt.

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What do you think? Who handled this prompt better?

Guillermo Whispered

  • surprisingly good British
  • had transformed the fox
  • across the blue waves
  • as always in ritual
  • the tickle of his mustache
  • it’s the city of victims now

Guillermo whispered in my ear, “It’s the city of victims now,” in a surprisingly good British accent. The tickle of his mustache awakened those shuddering desires that once before had transformed the fox into a tiger.

He spoke in gloom, of a distant perished land across the blue waves. But as always in ritual, the weight of feeling is kept askew and doesn’t become a burden.

He touched my shoulder and left me to shudder alone.

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