Archive for the ‘weird’ Category:

“Busty Sphinx” or “The Unique Gift of a Secret Blog”

Like this, only legless. And gold. And a Christmas ornament. Okay, not like this.

Writing an anonymous blog during the years that I did unlocked me in ways I hadn’t expected. When you write as an occupation, you must concern yourself with markets and audiences, trends and tropes. It’s possible to wake up one morning and realize you can’t remember why you wanted to write in the first place.

There is magic in writing for an audience, yet not writing for an audience. It can bring you to a level of raw honesty if you let it. And such honesty can bring you back to the well–the source of what you long to say.

In the entry I’ll share today, I was clearly having second thoughts about the project:



Spring Vampire Mating Ritual

Sabrina Lowney, who is one of my TEENWriters wrote this, and I just had to share.

Sparkly vampires are actually kind of genius. I mean, Stephanie Meyer took vampires and morphed them into the birds of paradise of the monster world. Can you imagine a short story about sparkly vampires written as though it were a National Geographic/Animal Planet narration? I did, and then I wrote this:

Spring has dawned in the Pacific Northwest, and the mating season has arrived. Our vampire, Edward, is no longer the youngest with the arrival of newly-dead Jasper into the Olympic Coast clan. With Emmett and Rosalie having paired up for the season, Alice is now the clan’s only eligible female. In previous years, Edward would have had a clear shot. But this time, he will have to challenge the younger, sparklier vampire, Jasper, for mating rights.

On a makeshift stage in a forest clearing, the vampires wait for sun. Competing male vampires may spend days in their chosen arenas, out in the elements, as they wait. To leave would be to forfeit mating rights. Edward cannot afford to be alone yet another season. His position in the clan depends on proving himself. After the past few decades of being unable to find a mate, Edward’s standing is tenuous. If he fails again this season, he will be further shunned by the clan, and, if the clan is forced to move to a new den, he may be left behind altogether.

But Jasper, too, needs this victory. As the newest member of the Olympic Coast clan, Jasper must find a mate this season or he will be banished. If he is kicked out, he will either have to find a new clan, and go through the trials of being accepted there, or face the prospect of life as a lone vampire, where he will have to deal with werewolf packs, faerie prides, goblin pods, trolls, and other predators a lone vampire is ill-equipped to tackle.

When sun finally shines on the meadow clearing, Edward, Jasper, and Alice are ready. In order to be chosen as a mate, Edward must prove to Alice that his sparkle is superior to Jasper’s. To showcase their sparkles in the best light, the male vampires must strip and preform a sort of dance for their intended mate.

Jasper proceeds to frolic around the field, while Edward goes for a more stationary approach. He clasps his hands together and swings his arms in a similar fashion to that of a human with a baseball bat. Edward finishes his routine with a 360 degree spinning jump-hop, keeping his arms out to his sides for balance. It was an admirable effort, but Alice chooses Jasper instead, marking her territory by licking the younger vampire’s neck. Once again, Edward is without a mate.

Who is This?

I shot the pic ten years ago when I saw this unmistakable image in my backyard. Unmistakable, but I have no idea what it is. (I showed it to some students today who are going to use it on their new writing blog, for which I’ll give you the link as soon as it’s up.) What do you think? Anyone you recognize?

Steampunk/Post-Apocalyptic Dystopia, Go!

Written by the Scenes and Dreams class (One more Teenage Novelist class to go).  Anyone care to continue the story?

The cobblestone walk was hard beneath my bare feet. I knew this road; it was an old one leading out of town. Shabby Victorian buildings lined the way. Moss and ivy crawled up the faded pink wall of the house on my left. Was this the house Emers had been talking about? There was a sound of breaking glass; I turned my head towards it and in a few small steps, I was up on the broken porch.

“Ehh! What are you doing here! This is private!” The voice seemed to come from inside the house.

I was confused. This property was so dilapidated that nobody could be living here; the holes in the roof were as big as bomb craters.

“Excuse me? Who are you?” I called tentatively. “Emers sent me. Do you know him?” I opened the old oak door, which creaked ominously, like a bad horror movie. Well, this was certainly sketchy

Before I could even take a step inside, he appeared. “Did you say Emers?” He was old and wore a white lab coat made out of gears, which were covered in strange stains. He had goggles on his head, which pressed down his bushy, white hair. “Sorry for the harsh welcome,” he held out his hand, “My name is Dr. Hiram Myers.”

Run, run, run, was my initial thought. But I shook his hand anyway. Emers had mentioned Dr. Myers once. He was a brilliant inventor, but all of his inventions usually managed to blow up–which explained the holes in the roof. I was definitely going to need a Red Bull. “Can you help me with something?” I asked him. “Emers wanted me to get some kind of medallion here. I know that’s kind of a cliché. Creepy house, mad scientist, mysterious medallion–”

Dr. Myers waved his hand dismissively. “Emers is dead,” he said.


Analyze This!

Found a bunch of somewhat-weird poems I’d never typed up. Here’s one. No idea what I was thinking when I wrote it, so have at it:


The day I stumbled into the house you built,
it was a labyrinth—
Chinese boxes
or Russian dolls,
each growing smaller
until I disappear.

You can get lost in a house like that.

I wonder about the rat.
Did he starve
when there was no longer any malt?

I could never begin to clean a house like yours,
all lopsided,
falling in on itself.
It makes me angry.

You should hire
the third pig,
the one with the bricks;
he knows more
about solid things
than you.

As it is
you trap people in here—
all the stairs,
windows that go nowhere,
the locked back door.