Yep, there was no Daily First Line posted yesterday. The boring truth is that I was sick and I had technical problems, so I spent the entire day sleeping. But I'd like you to come up with a much more interesting excuse. Therefore, today's first line is:
Thursday, May 31, 2012
Tuesday, May 29, 2012
Daily First Line -- 5/29/12
Here ya go. The weather here in NYC is too hot to think, so I'll write what I know:
Monday, May 28, 2012
Daily First Line -- 5/28/12
Happy Memorial Day!
I don't want to influence what you write by giving you an overtly holiday-themed first line, so here's something nice and generic:
I don't want to influence what you write by giving you an overtly holiday-themed first line, so here's something nice and generic:
Sunday, May 27, 2012
Daily First Line -- 5/27/12
Tim Steffen likes doing Quicksies, and he's sent me a couple of his exercises to read. I love that! I love when people get as excited about this writing exercise as I do. So, I asked him if he'd also like to submit some first lines for me to use in the blog, so I could write from them.
The problem in thinking up a new First Line each day is that I don't get to write for ten minutes based on it. By the time I come up with a line, and post it in the blog/Facebook/Twitter, I've already thought about it too long. Anything I'd write from it would be premeditated instead of spontaneous.
But writing from someone else's first line lets me be spontaneous! Today's earlier post farther down the page is what I wrote from Tim's first line.
Do your exercise first, then go read mine. And send me yours if you want. I'd love to read it and post several different exercises all written from the same first line.
Here is today's first line, compliments of Tim:
The problem in thinking up a new First Line each day is that I don't get to write for ten minutes based on it. By the time I come up with a line, and post it in the blog/Facebook/Twitter, I've already thought about it too long. Anything I'd write from it would be premeditated instead of spontaneous.
But writing from someone else's first line lets me be spontaneous! Today's earlier post farther down the page is what I wrote from Tim's first line.
Do your exercise first, then go read mine. And send me yours if you want. I'd love to read it and post several different exercises all written from the same first line.
Here is today's first line, compliments of Tim:
I made this!
Tim Steffen contributed a few First Lines to the Quicksies blog. I'll post them over the next week or so. I'll also post what I wrote from his first lines. Below is what I wrote from today's First Line by Tim.
My thought process while writing this was kind of interesting. A bunch of ideas sprang to mind, and I ended up dismissing a few and running with the ones I liked best. At first glance, that seems to contradict the purpose of Quicksies: write for ten minutes without judging what you write. But I wasn't judging. I was selecting. It's a subtle but important difference.
I kept my fingers moving for the entire ten minutes. I never stopped typing. I type very fast, and I think very fast. Ideas came to me in bunches, not single-file. I want to admit that when I get multiple ideas at once, I don't necessarily go with the first one just because it's the first. I pick one over the others, yet never let my fingers stop moving. That's the important part. I didn't judge the ideas that cropped up, or take time to analyze and judge. I made a decision, but it was an instant decision to go with one over another, for whatever reason.
I realize this decision-making process is a sign of growing as a writer. We all have loads of ideas which come to us at any time. I think the mark of a true writer is the ability to commit to an idea and develop it, instead of fretting over which idea to pick and, as a result, never committing to any of them. That's what I used to do. Quicksies have helped me get past that.
So, here's what I wrote from Tim's suggestion. I like it. If I wasn't me, I'd read me.
~Lisa
=====================================================================
The cup fell off the table and shattered. Karen cowered under the table as items fell and crashed to the floor around her. She’d lived through tornadoes and earthquakes. She could handle those. These were acts of nature. Acts of God, if you believed in that sort of thing. But this was a direct attack. This was a direct attack on her neighborhood. This was a direct attack on her HOME. HER home.
How could this be? How could she have moved to a “nice” neighborhood 20 years ago only to have it turn into a frightening slum now? She was close to retiring. Her children were grown and her husband was dead and she was alone and loving it. She came and went as she wanted. She made her own schedule and answered to no one. For someone born in the 50s and married early, that was a whole new world that she welcomed. Three kids all before she was old enough to drink. Her entire life had been dedicated to home making.
That term always made her laugh. She didn’t make a home. She provided love. That was all. She nurtured, and got nurtured in return. Her children were fabulous adults who came to visit her at least once a week. They had begged her to move. They moved out to the suburbs as soon as they got married. But she wanted to stay in her house her near the city. The house she and her husband bought together after years of scrimping and saving. The house where her children had all of their firsts. She grew up here and she wanted to die here.
But not today.
She would not die cowering under her table from a bunch of thugs who decided to wreak havoc because some dirty cop had beaten some lawbreaker to death, and some lay-about with nothing better to do had decided to capture the whole thing on his iPhone and post it online.
Rodney King was supposed to have taught the world something. Karen also just wanted everybody to get along. But this new wave of kids, these new malcontents, these weren’t poverty-stricken rebels storming the castle. These were well-to-do kids who had never known want. Their lives had been smooth. Featureless. Now they were becoming adults and in dire need of making some features on the landscape.
But why did they have to destroy things? Why destruction instead of creation? That’s what Karen couldn’t understand.
Karen crawled out from under the table and peeked outside. Some scrawny guys were trying to turn over her car.
That was the last straw. Without thinking, Karen grabbed the baseball bat her son-in-law made her keep behind the front door. She ran outside in her sweatpants and t-shirt, aging tits sagging with no bra to restrain them.
She screamed at the scrawny boys in her driveway. More out of shock than fear, they stopped and stared at her. She ran at them, bat swinging. She didn’t remember what she said, but knew it had something to do with “damn kids” and “get a job” or something banal and trite like that. If she wasn’t so angry, she would have laughed at herself.
In fact, she did laugh at herself when, the next day, her granddaughter emailed her a link to a YouTube video that had gone viral. “Raging Granny” already had over 200,000 hits. Apparently, the spirit of Rodney king was alive and well in the 21st Century. Her neighbor’s little boy had recorded Karen going ballistic on the scrawny boys, and lord did Karen ever get a kick out of that!
And it certainly kept the boys away. The cops could see quite clearly who they were, and within days, the boys no longer bothered anyone, and would not be bothering anyone for a very, very long time.
The cup fell off the table and shattered. Karen cowered under the table as items fell and crashed to the floor around her. She’d lived through tornadoes and earthquakes. She could handle those. These were acts of nature. Acts of God, if you believed in that sort of thing. But this was a direct attack. This was a direct attack on her neighborhood. This was a direct attack on her HOME. HER home.
How could this be? How could she have moved to a “nice” neighborhood 20 years ago only to have it turn into a frightening slum now? She was close to retiring. Her children were grown and her husband was dead and she was alone and loving it. She came and went as she wanted. She made her own schedule and answered to no one. For someone born in the 50s and married early, that was a whole new world that she welcomed. Three kids all before she was old enough to drink. Her entire life had been dedicated to home making.
That term always made her laugh. She didn’t make a home. She provided love. That was all. She nurtured, and got nurtured in return. Her children were fabulous adults who came to visit her at least once a week. They had begged her to move. They moved out to the suburbs as soon as they got married. But she wanted to stay in her house her near the city. The house she and her husband bought together after years of scrimping and saving. The house where her children had all of their firsts. She grew up here and she wanted to die here.
But not today.
She would not die cowering under her table from a bunch of thugs who decided to wreak havoc because some dirty cop had beaten some lawbreaker to death, and some lay-about with nothing better to do had decided to capture the whole thing on his iPhone and post it online.
Rodney King was supposed to have taught the world something. Karen also just wanted everybody to get along. But this new wave of kids, these new malcontents, these weren’t poverty-stricken rebels storming the castle. These were well-to-do kids who had never known want. Their lives had been smooth. Featureless. Now they were becoming adults and in dire need of making some features on the landscape.
But why did they have to destroy things? Why destruction instead of creation? That’s what Karen couldn’t understand.
Karen crawled out from under the table and peeked outside. Some scrawny guys were trying to turn over her car.
That was the last straw. Without thinking, Karen grabbed the baseball bat her son-in-law made her keep behind the front door. She ran outside in her sweatpants and t-shirt, aging tits sagging with no bra to restrain them.
She screamed at the scrawny boys in her driveway. More out of shock than fear, they stopped and stared at her. She ran at them, bat swinging. She didn’t remember what she said, but knew it had something to do with “damn kids” and “get a job” or something banal and trite like that. If she wasn’t so angry, she would have laughed at herself.
In fact, she did laugh at herself when, the next day, her granddaughter emailed her a link to a YouTube video that had gone viral. “Raging Granny” already had over 200,000 hits. Apparently, the spirit of Rodney king was alive and well in the 21st Century. Her neighbor’s little boy had recorded Karen going ballistic on the scrawny boys, and lord did Karen ever get a kick out of that!
And it certainly kept the boys away. The cops could see quite clearly who they were, and within days, the boys no longer bothered anyone, and would not be bothering anyone for a very, very long time.
Saturday, May 26, 2012
Friday, May 25, 2012
Thursday, May 24, 2012
Wednesday, May 23, 2012
Tuesday, May 22, 2012
Monday, May 21, 2012
Sunday, May 20, 2012
Saturday, May 19, 2012
Friday, May 18, 2012
Thursday, May 17, 2012
Daily First Line -- 5/17/12
In honor of the gorgeous spring weather covering much of the United States right now:
Wednesday, May 16, 2012
Tuesday, May 15, 2012
Monday, May 14, 2012
Daily First Line -- 5/14/12
Today's first line, with a little background shading to make it easier to read:
Sunday, May 13, 2012
Daily First Line -- 5/13/12
It's Mother's Day here in the States. In honor of all the moms, here's today's first line:
Saturday, May 12, 2012
Friday, May 11, 2012
Thursday, May 10, 2012
Daily First Line -- 5/10/12
Since I was travelling and wasn't able to post today's first line early in the morning, we're working that theme into the first line:
Wednesday, May 9, 2012
Tuesday, May 8, 2012
Daily First Line -- 5/8/12
Here's a variation of a sentence I saw on a sign today. I thought it would make a great opening line. What do you think?
Today's first line:
Today's first line:
Monday, May 7, 2012
Sunday, May 6, 2012
Daily First Line -- 5/6/12
I'm experimenting with different font for the daily first line. Let me know if there's a type or color which makes the line easier to read at a glance, so you can get typing as soon as you see it.
Today's color is purple:
Saturday, May 5, 2012
A reader-submitted Quicksie!!
We've got our first submission from someone who used one of the Daily First Lines! Tim Steffen is a writer and illustrator who writes children's and young adult books. Check out his website for info on everything. His newest, Sailboat In A Cellar, is available to buy or borrow through amazon.com.
Below is what Tim wrote from last Wednesday's first line, "The fog hung around the morning," exactly as he wrote it, in the ten minutes he wrote.
Please submit your own quicksies! I love reading them.
Lisa
=====================================================================
by Tim Steffen
The fog hung around this morning. It’d been a long night with friends and everyone was still sleeping by the time I woke with my dog, Gio, by my side. Gio is a dog of habit, much like humans are in our own ways, and the first thing he wants in the morning is his breakfast. After a tasty meal he barks and let me know that it’s time to go out and shore up the property while doing his duty, or doody, if you prefer.
It was on this particular misty morning that I let Gio out in the fog that had rolled in over the Berks County hills of Pennsylvania. His usual routine is to romp around for a half and hour, come back to the door and bark for me to let him in, wipe his feet, and then throw his ball for him to play with for another ten minutes. After that, it’s shut-down time on the sofa for a few hours.
As the guests slept, I made coffee and waited for the dark brew. I poured my first cup of the day and waited for Gio’s bark at the door. Nothing. I had another cup. Still nothing.
I opened the door to the patio and looked out, but couldn’t see any farther than a few trees. The fog lay heavy across the upper meadow. I can usually hear the jingle of Gio’s pendant on his collar, but again, nothing. Silence. Almost creepy silence on that Sunday morning.
I called out, “Gio!” I called once more, but there was no jingling and no Gio in sight.
I put on my Docksides and walked outside, up the meadow, and there in the highest point of the expansive field was Gio, standing nose to nose with a doe. They regarded each other. The doe looked up, saw me and then trotted off into the woods.
It was on this particular misty morning that I let Gio out in the fog that had rolled in over the Berks County hills of Pennsylvania. His usual routine is to romp around for a half and hour, come back to the door and bark for me to let him in, wipe his feet, and then throw his ball for him to play with for another ten minutes. After that, it’s shut-down time on the sofa for a few hours.
As the guests slept, I made coffee and waited for the dark brew. I poured my first cup of the day and waited for Gio’s bark at the door. Nothing. I had another cup. Still nothing.
I opened the door to the patio and looked out, but couldn’t see any farther than a few trees. The fog lay heavy across the upper meadow. I can usually hear the jingle of Gio’s pendant on his collar, but again, nothing. Silence. Almost creepy silence on that Sunday morning.
I called out, “Gio!” I called once more, but there was no jingling and no Gio in sight.
I put on my Docksides and walked outside, up the meadow, and there in the highest point of the expansive field was Gio, standing nose to nose with a doe. They regarded each other. The doe looked up, saw me and then trotted off into the woods.
Friday, May 4, 2012
Daily First Line -- 5/4/12
We'll avoid all references today to Star Wars or Kent State. (Check Wikipedia for "May 4th" if you aren't familiar with those references.) Instead, here's a little family conflict, for you to dramatize or comedy-tize:
Thursday, May 3, 2012
Wednesday, May 2, 2012
Tuesday, May 1, 2012
Daily First Line -- 5/1/12
It's been a month! April's list of First Lines will be available soon on the First Lines page of the blog. Go back any time and grab a line you missed and write on that one.
For today, a new month begins with this.....
For today, a new month begins with this.....
Happy One-Month Anniversary! Now don't break the chain....
The Quicksies blog started one month ago. Happy Anniversary, everyone!
How many days this month did you write?
In physical fitness, it's said that there's a very small difference between the mindset of someone who exercises for five hours a day and someone who exercises for fifteen minutes a day. The biggest gap is between those who exercise for fifteen minutes and those who don't exercise at all.
Behaviorally, you have to do something for 28 days in a row for it to become a habit. This blog is now a habit with me.
I'd like to challenge everyone reading this to make Quicksies a habit. May has 31 days. Pick 28 consecutive days this month and make yourself write for ten minutes. You can use the Quicksies first lines, or some other exercises. But do it every day for 28 days. See what results from it.
A great way to stay motivated is to use a "don't break the chain" calendar, like this one at The Writers Store. The idea is that you draw a big "X" on each day that you do your exercise. It tricks the mind into not wanting to break the chain of Xs on the calendar. When you focus on "keep the chain going," you forget to make excuses or find reasons not to write.
In fact, the opposite happens. You go out of your way to find time to write, not for the satisfaction of writing, but for the satisfaction of putting a big X on your calendar to keep the chain unbroken.
There are tons of calendar aps that let you do this, or a good old-fashioned wall calendar can provide great motivation as it hangs over your desk. Pick a calendar, write for ten minutes, and get the satisfaction of drawing a big X to show you did it.
Kisses
Lisa
How many days this month did you write?
In physical fitness, it's said that there's a very small difference between the mindset of someone who exercises for five hours a day and someone who exercises for fifteen minutes a day. The biggest gap is between those who exercise for fifteen minutes and those who don't exercise at all.
Behaviorally, you have to do something for 28 days in a row for it to become a habit. This blog is now a habit with me.
I'd like to challenge everyone reading this to make Quicksies a habit. May has 31 days. Pick 28 consecutive days this month and make yourself write for ten minutes. You can use the Quicksies first lines, or some other exercises. But do it every day for 28 days. See what results from it.
A great way to stay motivated is to use a "don't break the chain" calendar, like this one at The Writers Store. The idea is that you draw a big "X" on each day that you do your exercise. It tricks the mind into not wanting to break the chain of Xs on the calendar. When you focus on "keep the chain going," you forget to make excuses or find reasons not to write.
In fact, the opposite happens. You go out of your way to find time to write, not for the satisfaction of writing, but for the satisfaction of putting a big X on your calendar to keep the chain unbroken.
There are tons of calendar aps that let you do this, or a good old-fashioned wall calendar can provide great motivation as it hangs over your desk. Pick a calendar, write for ten minutes, and get the satisfaction of drawing a big X to show you did it.
Kisses
Lisa
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