Elizabeth: Friday Writing Sprints – Now with an Irish Flavor!

irish-harp-clipart-1Welcome to another installment of Random Word Improv, or as I like to think of it, the participatory portion of our blog.

Whether you wrote a lot, a little, or none at all this week, a few minutes of Improv is a great way to have a little fun and get some words on the page. As a plus, once you get in the writing frame of mind, you’ll be ready to write your way through the day.

All right, let’s get started. This week, in honor of Saint Patrick’s Day, our words have an Irish flavor. Hopefully you’ve recovered from any celebrating you may have done yesterday so you can fully enjoy them.

Today’s bonus word is:                   Claddagh

Today’s bonus phrase is:              “What’s the craic?”

Here are the rest of today’s randomly selected random words:

Emerald               shamrock            pub                        Celtic

Druid                     whiskey               famine                 rebellion

Peat                       castle                    cliffs                      hedgehog

Harp                      stout                     jig                           leprechaun        

For any of you new to Random Word Improv, here’s how to play:

  1. Pick as many words from the list as you want
  2. Write the first line(s) of a story incorporating your words
  3. Post your results in the comments section.

Okay. Are you ready? Go tell us a story!

*whistling aimlessly while you are off being creative*

You’re back. Kind of fun, right? Can’t wait to see what you have come up with.

8 thoughts on “Elizabeth: Friday Writing Sprints – Now with an Irish Flavor!

  1. I’ll get things started today with the next installment of Cassie & Nicolai (or at least the beginning of the next installment):

    * * *

    It was late when Cassie wrapped things up at the precinct. She wanted nothing more than to head home and curl up with a carton of Haagen Dazs Dulce De Leche, her favorite stress reducer, but she needed to find Nicolai first.

    It took a while, but she finally tracked him down in the Claddagh Pub on the corner of Emerald and Druid in the old Irish section of town. He was sitting at the far end of the bar nursing what looked to be a double shot of whiskey, oblivious to the football match on the screens overhead or the cheers of the other patrons.

    He looked like someone who wanted to be alone. Well, too bad.

    Cassie walked up to the bar and ordered a pint from the bartender with a Celtic knot tattoo encircling his bicep and short spiked blond-tipped hair that gave him a hedgehog look.

    “Harp Lager or Guinness Stout?”

    “Guinness.” The bartender drew the pint, then let it settle until a thick head of foam topped the glass. Cassie paid, picked up her drink, and walked down to the other end of the bar to the seat next to Nicolai. “You’re looking a little glum there, Zeus. Is everything all right?”

    Nicolai looked over at her. “I’m fine. Just thinking about the case.”

    “I was afraid you were planning to jump off the cliffs or something.”

    He laughed. “You won’t get rid of me that easily; I’ve still got plans for you.” The smouldering look he gave her left little question about what kind of plans those might be.

    “Yeah, well I’ve got plans for you too, though you’re probably not going to like them.”

    Nicolai’s expression sobered. “I take it this involves my brother Demitri?”

    Cassie took a drink of her beer and carefully centered the glass on the coaster before meeting his glance. “The evidence against him is piling up. Plus, he doesn’t have an alibi for the times several of the crimes occurred.”

    Nicolai shook his head. “He got in the typical trouble when he was a kid – pushing boundaries, teenage rebellion – heck, we both did. Nothing criminal though, well, unless you count stealing the pot of gold from Mrs. O’Shaunessy’s garden leprechaun. He was only five at the time, so that doesn’t really count. I find it hard to believe he’s involved in any of this.”

    “Well, there’s one way to find out if he is.”

    “How?”

    . . .[to be continued] . . .

    • I’m absolutely loving this! It reminds me of the best of the “serious” comic strips that I used to read in the paper as a child. (Remember “Apartment 4G”? Hell, remember newspapers?)

    • How??? Hope you’re going to tell us next week. Love this latest instalment and can’t wait to find out what Demitri has been up to.

      I had a crazy day yesterday, made notes last night but didn’t have enough brainpower left to knit them together into anything vaguely coherent. I’m busy again this morning, will be back later.

    • Oh, no, the dreaded cliffhanger! LOL, love these, Elizabeth. I’m afraid this week’s writing sprints was way to close to the problem I’m wrestling with; I’m blocked. But will give it a try privately and see if anything shakes loose today. I just read about a technique for unblocking writer’s block by writing things as if they happened in a dream, which absolves one of any responsibility for making sense. I’m going to combine these words, and that technique this morning, and see what happens.

  2. Better late than never! Here goes:

    “Incoming!” Clodagh O’Brien ducked into her husband’s shoulder as a glass of Shamrock 20-year-old whiskey sailed over their heads, trailing a stream of peat-scented liquor.

    “This is going to set leprechaun-druid relations back a century or two.” Clodagh snuggled closer to Aidan and together they surveyed the scene of carnage.

    To her left Aunt Blodwen, having checked in her curving knife at the door, was trying to garrotte Aidan’s Uncle Lafferty with a harp string. Behind them, Aidan’s brother Rourke stood on a stout oak table, manically playing a jig on his fiddle as flames took hold of the ballroom of Cliff’s Celtic Castle. In an hour, maybe less, their favorite pub would be a smoldering pile of ash and cinders.

    “You were right,” Clodagh said. “They didn’t think we’d go through with it.” She lifted her left hand and tilted it so that the light caught the heart-shaped emerald in her claddagh ring.

    “My mammy said it was a typical juvenile rebellion.” Aidan grinned up at her. “I’m two hundred years old and she thinks I’m still knee-high to a hedgehog.”

    “My da thinks you must have kissed the Blarney stone.” She grinned back. “He may be right. You had me at ‘What’s the craic?’”

    “Size isn’t everything.” Aidan waggled his eyebrows. “It’s not what you’ve got, it’s how you use it.”

    “What you said.” She leaned into him and nudged him gently with her elbow. “Cliff did upgrade his insurance, right?”

    “He’s filing the claim right now.” Aidan patted his suit pocket, where the perfect fit was slightly spoiled by the outline of an envelope. “He said to give you a great big kiss from him, and enjoy the honeymoon.”

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