Happy “I hope your internet is up” Friday. As I write this, painstakingly on my phone, mine is not.
I guess I should be grateful that I have a phone to type on and that the internet did not go out until after my morning meetings, but I’m mostly frustrated at not being able to do all the things I needed to do today. Life in “the cloud” has its definite drawbacks.
Whether I accomplish anything else is debateable, but I do at least plan to give today’s writing prompt and random words a try.
Care to join me?
For those of you working away on a story (whether a first draft or a polished version on its way to publication), if you’re not feeling random, we’d love to hear a bit – whether it’s a scene, a paragraph, or even a phrase that you are especially pleased with and would like to share.
If you don’t have a story in progress, or just want to work on something new, I hope either today’s random words or writing prompt will catch your creative fancy.
Ready?
What if: “Your character’s internet connection is down?
Feel free to interpret the “What” any way you choose (or ignore it completely) and include any (or all) of the following random words:
accountable hack harm greed
desolate expansion binge social
absurd apology spider boast
abattoir future afternoon bankroll
I look forward to seeing your stories in the comments. If you’re not feeling in the writing mood today, or don’t have time, feel free to post suggestions you might have for future “what-if” prompts. Ideas are always welcome.
Happy writing to all!
Eight Ladies Writing 
I’m so sorry about your internet! I hope by now it’s up. But I find it rather a cruel joke that it’s up for meetings and not for, say, shopping on Amazon. However, my internet is up, so I have written a sprint that is nuttier than usual, I think, and for which I could not find a way to use the word “spider,” which I think is weird since I found a way to use “abattoir.” I guess it’s one of those days!
How to break the internet
“Don’t be absurd,” Anwen Brockmeister looked up from her afternoon cocktail. “Who would want to hack my internet?”
“My apologies, madam,” her Swedish butler said. Since coming to work at the Brockmeisters, Leif Jorgensson had decided there was little future in buttling. But until his family, the canned-herring Jorgenssons, found a way to bankroll the factory expansion, he’d have to get by working for exorbitant wages in this ghastly household, an abattoir of human greed.
“I am desolate to have to inform you that it is not your internet, but everybody’s internet. And you have not been hacked. A tree—”
“Don’t speak to me of trees,” Bear Brockmeister, Anwen’s useless brother, said. “What good are they? Damn things dripped sap all over the Astin Martin. Had to have it repainted, didn’t I? Do more harm than good, you ask me.”
“Nobody asked you,” Anwen said.
“And it’s not nice to boast, dear.” Winnie Brockmeister, the matriarch of the family, started on her second martini. The binge had begun.
“Who’s boasting? I was desolate,” Bear said.
“Time to hold the damn trees accountable,” Cashton Brockmeister said. “Social engineering, that’s the problem.”
Nice job, Kay. I loved “hold the damn trees accountable” bit.
As for the internet, it’s still out. I called at 10:00am this morning and their response was that service should be restored by 9:00am this morning. Not helpful. I actually had to drive into my physical office today, since working remotely only works when there is a functional internet.