Elizabeth: Friday Writing Sprints – Crime Caper Edition

Itcrime_graphic feels like this week has been one long traffic jam.  School must be back in session.  Thank goodness the Labor Day long weekend is almost here.  I’ll be avoiding the roads and working on some projects around the house, like converting an old entertainment center into my new writing desk / work space.

To get ready to put my new writing zone to good use, I think it’s time for a little Random Word Improv.

Care to join me?

Whether you’re bemoaning the influx of back-to-school traffic, relaxing with a frosty beverage, or heading off for a holiday weekend, a few minutes of improv are a great way to have a little fun and get some words on the page.  The skies are sporting vivid sunset colors by the time I get home from work, so I’ll be doing my best to work in a writing sprint on my lunch hour.  Feel free to find the perfect time and sprint along with me.

Ready?

For any of you new to Random Word Improv, here’s how we 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.

All right, let’s get started. Today’s words may be a little random, but I’m sure you’ll be able to find a story in there somewhere.

suntan                        reporter                 mold                provoke

worm                          official                     wine                convict

domination              tablet                        beg                  tooth

breeze                        conspiracy              crystal           therapist

 Are you ready?  Go!

*whistling aimlessly while you are off being creative*

Back already?  Can’t wait to read what you’ve come up with.

For those of you who aren’t in the improv mood, or whose writing muse is still MIA, feel free to brainstorm ideas for future Friday Writing Sprint themes.

7 thoughts on “Elizabeth: Friday Writing Sprints – Crime Caper Edition

  1. Now that the Suntan Worm had achieved world domination, life was a breeze for Achatina Fulca, the official state reporter.She wriggled across the face of her tablet, wishing yet again that she had fingers, or even arms. It would make writing so much easier. Ach, enough complaining. It was time to squirm out her latest conspiracy story:convicts were injecting mold into the crystal wine carafes manufactured at the state prison. She had begged her editor to let her go undercover at the prison and report the story. The memory of how she had crawled made her squirm. Even though the story was sure to provoke a firestorm and make her the first member of the phylum Annelida to win a Pulitzer, she wondered why she’d bothered. She was getting a little long in the tooth for this kind of sensationalism, or would be if worms actually had teeth. Perhaps it was time to see a therapist.

    • LOL! Great job, Jeanne :-).

      I’d love to play today, and that list of words seems really befitting a Nicky O story, but alas, I am working on two other books right now (a revision and a first draft), and must avoid going through that wormhole. (See what I did there? Yeah, bad writer. Back to the salt mines for me.)

  2. The official reporter for the Sun Gazette didn’t look very official at all. The camera flashes glinted off his gold tooth, which he displayed (how else?) in a toothy grin that seemed almost as fake as his suntan. Crystal got closer, and could smell the mold on his suit. The breeze shifted, and the smell was gone, but not forgotten. She scribbled furiously on her tablet, her stylus almost scratching the screen as she tried to catch the words as well as the meaning of what Garth Ranston was saying to that skeezy Sun-Gaz guy.

    “I beg you not to provoke me,” sexy Garth said, brushing down his embroidered morning coat. “There is a conspiracy of government fools seeking to dismiss my time machine, and I am baffled that no one has been called out and shot over the matter. I see all your modern ‘marvelous wonders’ — your teevees and your eye-pods — and yet, a 19th century man has beaten you all to the punch and travelled through time.” God, the man even sneered sexily, Crystal thought. So what if he was fraud? He was a very convincing one, and if this was a piece of performance art, it belonged on Broadway.

    “So, what’s your angle, bud? World dominance? Punching worm-holes through the space-time continuum for shits and giggles?” Garth colored slightly at the Sun-Gaz guy’s crudity, which made the guy grin even wider. The sadist, he was enjoying this grill. Sun-Gaz leaned in, like a cutrate therapist finding a weak client . . . but he was surprised when Garth threw his glass of wine into his face.

    “You swine. How dare you?” He stalked away from the press conference.

    Such conviction! Crystal thought. Here was just the kind of story that could save her blog from obscurity. The truth didn’t matter at all. The man was begging to be made into a GIF, and he came with his own captions. She watched in dismay as a dozen reporters chased after him. How could she get some exclusive time with him? The time machine, she thought. He’d return to the time machine at some point. Maybe she could catch him there. She’d make him viral, and he’d be her ticket into the big time.

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