Mashed sprinting

This week's 15-minute sprint is coming from a grumpy space! Well, we all have those moments, right? I hope you enjoy.

Write a mash-up character based on two or more people you know.

Sarah sighed. She could hear the voice of the youngest coming from the still dark bedroom next door. Glancing at the clock, she knew that she had half an hour before they would dare to come bother her. They used to come into her room as soon they woke - sometimes as early as four or five in the morning - but she’d gotten a clock she could set to change color when they were allowed to get out of bed. She stretched, reaching her arms above her head to touch the wall and pointing her toes toward the foot of the bed. She should get moving. Her eyes drifted closed.

“Mama, can I have breakfast? The clock is green.” The expectant eyes peered into her face as she blinked the sleep away.

“Mmph,” she managed.

“Mama, can we have cereal? I can pour it,” Tony asked. She lifted her head to squint at his voice, making out his fuzzy shape at the doorway.

“Yeah, do that,” she agreed. She dropped her head back on the pillow and heard the boys heading down the stairs. She’d give them a few minutes. Tony could get the cereal without making too much mess. Did they have milk? She couldn’t remember.

“Mama? Can I put the t.v. on?” She startled at Tony’s voice and opened her eyes again. The room was lighter.

“What time is it?” She squinted toward the clock again and sat up quickly. “Oh my gosh - school! You have to get dressed! We have to go!”

“We are dressed, Mama,” Tony said, shrinking out of the doorway as she bolted past him for the bathroom.

Sprinting for the story, and a chance for new books

First, an offer of new books:

If you're looking for something new, check out this promotion - you've still got almost two weeks. There are more than 50 stories available for free - some full books, some short stories - and plenty of new authors to check out. Find something great to spend a few hours of enjoyment!

Image by pixabay user Sebastian Ganso

Next, the writing prompt:

“Bottled emotions are a product you can buy.”

Sprint:

Jill stared out the window at the throngs of people milling about the sidewalk, but didn’t take in a single person. She was sitting casually at the table she always took in the sandwich shop, absently tapping away to the beat filling her eardrums. 

If the girl came for the edibles within the next few minutes, Jill would be able to make it to Gerry’s in time to pick up her next order of cactus this afternoon. She’d be able to get started on turning that into some cookies - the cookies sold best. She also wanted to try out the recipe she’d found for noodles. She liked playing around with the recipes - sometimes they worked right away, but usually she had to tweak them to account for the difference between the shade dust she made from the cactus and the canna sugar or butter the recipes usually called for. The recipe she’d found for noodles called for canna butter. She reviewed the changes she might make, glancing at the watch on her arm. She frowned. If she didn’t need the money from this sale to buy the next batch, she’d leave - the girl was already two minutes late. 

Her gaze flicked to the counter, where the boy who she’d given the gummies to sat absently picking at his thumbnail. His acne-scarred chin moved as he muttered quietly to himself. Jill had told him she would bring more for him with her next appointment - she didn’t want to get him too dependent on her. She limited him to a once a week delivery, and never the recipes with the shade dust. Watching what the canna products did to him, she knew she’d been right. Giving this boy shade-dusted edibles would be akin to handing him a bottle of emotion to drink with nothing to dilute it. A small frown played at her mouth. She knew too much about that herself.

Clearly, I have some research to conduct. I've never made noodles - and a quick search for recipes suggests that they won't be the right thing for Jill to be trying to make. However, this sprint - in some form or another - may make its way into the next book!

Sprint with an oops

This week's prompt is another from the Christian Indie Writer's Podcast. This week's topic was writing about trauma in life, so the prompt was to write a scene in which a character from your WIP (work in progress, the story you are currently working on,) is experiencing a trauma that you or a loved one has experienced.

One thing about writing prompts and exercises - sometimes it's fun to try to get all the words, or write exactly what the prompt instructs, and other times it's okay to allow the prompt to get you started and then just go where it takes you, whether that is following the prompt or not. Sometimes, like today, I am in such a hurry or so distracted that I don't read the whole thing before I start. Unlike those tests that tell you to read all of the instructions before starting the test and give a whole bunch of complicated things to do before the final instruction, which is to not do any of those difficult things but just turn the paper over, it's not a bad thing to not follow the instruction on a writing prompt. The whole purpose of a prompt is to get you started! As long as you are writing, you are doing it right. So, today's sprint is currently NOT written from my WIP, because I didn't notice that part of the prompt before starting. I think I have a way to change it up to fit it in, but here is the rough draft:

“Who ate the strawberries I had in this bowl?” 

Carly froze. Mama’s raised voice was tight and low. It was never a good sign when her voice got tight, but when it also went low, it was very, very bad. 

“All of you! Come in here, now!” 

Carly’s heart was skittering wildly in her chest. She scrambled off her knees, where she’d been playing cars on the floor in the back room, and ran to the kitchen. 

“I didn’t. I don’t know where it went, but I didn’t take it.” John’s jaw had that mulish set it got when he wasn’t going to budge. 

Mama turned to Mitchel. “Well?” 

“I didn’t eat them! I don’t like strawberries!” 

Mama set her hands on her hips and turned to Carly. “Did you eat my berries?” At Carly’s rapid shaking of her head, Mama’s brow wrinkles deepened. She glared at the three children. “One of you did, which means one of you is lying. I’m going to let your father deal with this. Go.” 

Mitchel followed Carly into the back room, both of them quiet. “Did you eat them?” Mitchel’s voice was low and tremulous. 

“No! I been in here playing all morning!” 

“What if we clean our room? Do you think maybe she’ll be happy, and forget to tell him?” Mitchel was twisting his hands inside his front pockets. Pretty soon he’d start chewing on his fingernails -- he always did when he was scared. 

Carly looked around the room. The dirty clothes they had worn yesterday were scattered across the floor and half-hidden under the bunk-bed where they had dropped them instead of the hamper, but otherwise the room didn’t look bad. “Let’s try,” she said, starting to pick hers up. Her throat was tight, making it hard to breathe. Hot tears spilled down her cheeks. She scrubbed them away with the t-shirt in her hands. Daddy would be even more angry if he thought she’d been crying before he started disciplining her.

 

For those interested in checking out the Christian Indie Writers' Podcast, find them on Facebook, Youtube, or their website.

If you'd like to join me in some of these writing prompt sprints, set your timer for 15 minutes and start putting some words down. I'd love to hear from you if you do - and if you've got a writing prompt you like, let me know! Maybe I can use it for my next sprint!