Daily Prompt 10: “Non-Regional Diction”

 

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It’s a two-post day today? How very strange. The moons must be in alignment. And there must be two moons… both are disturbing to consider.

 

Have fun~

 


 

 

Title: Non-Regional Diction

Prompt: “Write about whatever you’d like, but write using regional slang, your dialect, or in your accent.

 

 

So, Iveardtha we from Cheecago don’t really hear out own aixcent. I, personally, try to undo the most nasally part of the aixcent. At the very least, I don’t pronounce Cheecago as “ChicAHgo.” I think that just kinda sounds stupid. And yet, I really like learning mor’abou other regional differences in language across the US. And elsewhere I s’pose. Fr’instance, we Cheecagoans refer t’eh tennis shoes as “gym shoes.” I guess because we were always using them in gym class back in school. Also, dijuknow that only Illinois people think it’s right to end sentence with, “with?”  My friend Alec, hoo’sfrom Michigan,  thinks its kinda weird that weecan’ask people if they’d wanna, “come with,” if we’re goin’ somewhere. Instead’ov asking, “do you want to come with me?” Jus’seems wordy to me, honestly.

And I wa’sexperimenting earlier today with m’new microphone. And I think I remember pointing out just how strange my voice sounded sometimes. And I thin’kthat comes from my weirdly gravely voice that’still somehow high-ish pitched. Like I swallowed a cheese grater. Also, there’s one parta’my-mouth that doesn’t really fully open all the way, which makes it’sound like I’m slurring or mumbling more than I usually do.

Som’than-tawork on, I guess.

 

 

THE OTHERS

 


 

 

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<a href="https://dailypost.wordpress.com/prompts/non-regional-diction/">Non-Regional Diction</a>

 

I would have gone on further but even those one-and-a-half paragraphs took me about half an hour to do. Which is just too long to dwell on one post!

 

 

 

Good luck, you brave writer folk!

 

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Flash! Friday: “Our Names, Forever Burning”

 

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I spent the last two hours on this instead of working on my novels or other projects. This may have been a mistake. Then again, I haven’t made anything else for a while and Lorequest is growling at me from the corner.

Not like that ever worked in its favour, though.

 

Have fun~

 


 

 

Title: Our Names, Forever Burning

Character: An Uncrowned King

Theme: Courage

Word Count: 325

 

We lost twenty gallant men in our escape from the capital; I knew them all by name. Our prince rode well through it all. But his chainmail was damaged and he slumped like a willow.

Prince Armand Hannabelle the 2nd of Kingdom on the Mont, Westernmost Kingdom under Heaven and Gods, rode into a nameless village under cover of nightfall. There were twenty of us knights left. Twenty to fend off a kingdom. A dozen peasant boys pledged in an ignorant hurry to join us.

In a nearby glade, my prince wept quietly. Yet he stood stately and proud in the red of the coming dawn.

“My lord,” I said. “Your father’s host is almost upon us.”

Prince Armand sighed. The sword he held was far too heavy for him. “What chances do we have?”

“Even with the peasants? Pitiful. At best.”

“Perhaps this is justice,” he said. “My sins are riding to meet me. And their claws are long and steel. Armand the Kinslayer. That’s how they’ll know me. Are they wrong, Sir Armand?”

“Right or wrong, for good or evil,” I said, “I am your noble knight.”

My prince looked at me, his eyes tired.

“They are not wrong,” I sighed. “Your brother is dead by my hand your word. History will never understand what you did.”

“Nonsense,” he said. “I sold my brother’s life so I might buy his crown. I fear that history will never forget what I did.”

There was a rustling in the bushes. I turned to see a peasant boy standing there, his eyes full of disbelief, fear.

“Don’t you want the chance to die for something, boy?” I asked. He just stared at me, glass-eyed like a dog. “Your prince needs knights by his side. Where will you be when the battle is joined?”

He tightened his grip on his sad little pitchfork.

“Good,” I said. “We’ll burn away the stains in our pasts with our glory.”

 

 

BLUE FRONG

 


 

 

Here’s a thought. If songs and albums can be written about books, why not the other way around? Music plays an enormous role in my writing, so why not try to just make a whole story around songs? Suil a Run, the Orla Fallon edition was what gave me the inspiration for this story, as it turns out.

Or an entire novel written only during autumn? That way you can just smell the maple!

 

 

Good luck, you brave writer folk!

 

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Five Sentence Fiction: Departure

 

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Boy, I’m tired.

It is 2:39 AM here.

 

 

Have fun~

 


 

 

Word of Inspiration: Spunk

Word Count: 172

Genre: Realistic Fiction

Title: Departure

 

Harold burned his copies of Moby Dick, Lord of the Rings, and The Road— all three dog-eared copies of each. The calendar read March the 10th but his mind was ever stuck on the 6th; March the 6th was the day that Harold learned the price of adventure, the shattering of rose glass that displayed “The Prodigal Son” in cathedral letters and sacred skill. An artist, his son said, he wanted to be an artist, to make with his own body what most others only dreamed about. March the 6th was a cold and rainy day and Harold’s son marched straight out into it, a single suitcase and an umbrella to his name (his good sense was left in his room near the trash can that hadn’t been emptied for months). Harold’s own pleading was fossilized into wounding memory, bouncing before against the walls of his own home and now within his own head; nobody had ever mentioned that when the hero went on journeys, they left more than their safety behind.

 

 

 


 

 

Girl, I’m sleep.

It is now 2:41 AM here.

 

And I wrote this all in one sitting. About eight minutes (or approximately two songsworth) ago. I hate my brain sometimes always sometimes.

 

Good luck, you brave writer folk!

 

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Five Sentence Fiction: Deception

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So, remember when I said I’d be doing lots of blog posts again after school ended? Yeah well, remember when I also said that I was going to get mysteriously ill with a violent, feverish, hacking cough? No, I don’t either. But here I am, pretty much done with this horrible hacking nightmare and I present to you a rather sour Five Sentence Fiction.

More to come, I swear!

 

 

Have fun~

 


 

 

Word of Inspiration: Memories

Word Count: 160

Genre: Creative Non-Fiction

Title: Deception

 

Memories are deceiving; they’re fickle, devilish little angels. Almost a week ago, I stepped down from the stage onto the commencement plaza with my diploma in a green leather-bound tube. With all of my friends by my side, I smiled wide for all the parent’s cameras and couldn’t possibly remember a single bad memory that we shared (despite the fact that we had plenty of nasty times altogether- c’est la vie). And I remembered all those same fantastic times, those utterly and irreplaceably unique times that could have only been had by my friends and I, all the way home; except, I had to keep myself from crying rather than laughing as I drove further and further away from my second home and family. Now, almost a week later, I’m running out of video games, television, and other unique collections of 1’s and 0’s, that can keep me from remembering all those “good” memories that make me want to cry.

 

 

Reflections of an amateur Literary Journal Editor: Part 2, “If It Works, It Works”

Did you know that if you do Control + Z to undo on WordPress it’ll undo half of everything you’ve written and then you have no way to retrieve what you just deleted?

Well now I know! I should make a little grave for my words that I just lost in that horrible accident. It was like watching a wood-chipper eat a man whole. Except it was less hilarious.

Anyway, yes hello, more of Michael Wettengel’s patented (patent pending) directed rambling. This time I’m actually going to be talking about the idea of “If it works, it works,” which I mentioned on my previous blog a few days ago. I think it’s totally something worth discussing.


Plainly put, the idea of “if it works, it works (which will just be abbreviated as “If-work” from now on)” is the idea that nothing is ever truly stupid or a bad idea when it comes to fiction writing. I have seen (and written) in my time ideas that, on paper, just sound outrageous. To list a few: A webcomic about cats who live in an abandoned neighborhood and rule it as a kingdom, a short story that sets out to establish and entire magical world and mythos, and a novel in which the main character is largely a passive observer. Again, it’s easy to laugh or brush off some, if not all of those ideas, as being simply absurd. Who would want to read a comic about cats? How could you possibly establish a whole world in 15 pages? Why focus on the observer and not the more interesting people around him? The question of “Why?” is a different one altogether, one that is much larger and harder to answer. The more immediate question however, is, “can these ideas still work?”

And I think that yes, they can. I can say so with an amount of certainty (as much as a 21-year old first-time author can have) that all of those ideas can work… namely the last one about the observer character because I’m actually talking about The Great Gatsby.

HA. I FOOLED YOU. Unless I didn’t. If not then well played, sir and/or madam. Well played.

 

This idea of “If-work” can extend from movies to video games to poems to anything else you can imagine, so long as it falls under the umbrella of “fiction.” Frankly, anything and everything can be made to work if it translates well into what makes “good fiction.” As a quick sidenote: I want to really delve deeper into the whole “good fiction” idea, but I’ll talk a bit more about it here because screw consistent organization of content!

Good fiction, to me, as I mentioned before, is more of a “feeling” than anything else. It is something that is sometimes hard to describe, but it pulls us in, almost as if it’s our instinct to keep reading. I think quite a bit of that pull comes from the fact that Aristotle might have been on to something when he said that, to badly paraphrase, “art is an imitation of life which is twisted and changed through human perspective.” Art, meaning fiction too, can create this kind of pull on us humans by appealing to our human emotions, which is what pulls us into a story, and ultimately can help us decide if it is “good fiction” or not. A story that doesn’t touch us humans in our human emotions, I feel, ultimately leaves a much lesser impact on us in the end and that impact is what can really make a piece of fiction “good” because it transcends its paper, pixel, or oral bonds.

I have seen fiction where children thrown into life-threatening situations and I couldn’t give the slightest crap about them *cough cough* M. Night Shyamalan *cough cough.* Other times, I have seen fiction where something or someplace that is totally alien, such as Termina in Legend of Zelda: Majora’s Mask or the Giant in Iron Giant, become totally relatable and impactful.

Quick fun fact, WordPress’ spell check does not recognize “relatable” or “impactful” as real words. The more you know!

Truly, if Shyamadingdong can make Jaden Smith’s plight in “After Earth” so utterly trite that nobody cares and yet Brad Bird and Tim McCanlies can make us care from a giant metal robot from space, it only goes to show that truly, anything can work in fiction if it’s done well. That is to say, anything can work, no matter how arcane or mundane or insane the idea so long as it is able to touch us in our human emotions. If the characters feel real and relatable and stick in our minds after we have finished reading or watching the work, then I think it’s safe to say that the work of fiction was done at least reasonably well. All of the intrigue and plot twists in the world won’t leave near as big an impact if we don’t care about the world and characters that it’s taking place in.

I’m not saying that I’m throwing Song of Ice and Fire under the bus here… okay, I am, but only Feast for Crows. Every time Cersei thought about her stupid small councilmen, another White Walker rose from the depths of frozen hell… they’re going to need a lot more wildfire.

 

Well, I think I’m rattled off my main arguments here for the moment. I’ve got a follow-up for this idea coming, so expect that shortly. Plus, tomorrow I’m sure I’ll remember to add something to this that I forgot today, so expect that too. IN THE FUTURE.

 

 

-END TRANSMISSION. GOOD MORNING, GOOD AFTERNOON, GOODNIGHT-