Friday, July 7, 2017

FRIDAY POETRY DAY: Yoda Poetry

As you may have guessed, Yoda poetry is poetry written the way Yoda speaks--and it's harder to write than you might think.  This is my first (and so far, only, attempt).

Blowing through the clear blue sky cotton candy clouds are.
Shining on my face warm sunlight is.
With each step in the soft green grass I take,
Tickle my toes it does.
©  2017 Teresa Kander 

Wednesday, July 5, 2017

Story Fragment #14: Write a script scene of two people in conflict

The voice actor for a popular children's show has died, and the two characters in this scene are auditioning for the role.

Character #1: Gerry
Thinks Penelope is an entitled princess
Is sleeping with the show's producer
Wants to be successful to show up his twin brother, a writer on the show.

Character #2: Penelope
Thinks Gerry will ruin her father's legacy
Daughter of previous voice actor
Wants to win an award

Scene: Reception area outside producer's office. P sitting in a chair, waiting to audition, along with numerous others.
G enters and takes last remaining chair, next to P.?

P:  Oh no--MUST you sit there?
G: Believe me, Princess, if there were any other seats available, I'd want to be as far away from you as possible.
P: Fine. Just sit there and don't talk to me then. I can't believe you'd even show your face at this audition.
G: Me? What about you? I suppose you think that Daddy's little girl should just get the role handed to her?
P: Of course not--I'm banking on my talent, unlike you, who has to try to sleep his way to the top.
G: My relationship with Lily had nothing to do with it. I'm obviously the better choice to be the new Puddy Numkin.
P: Oh please! I've been preparing for this role my whole life--listening to Dad rehearse and talk about his motivation. I know this little cuddle bug inside and out--what do YOU know about him?
G: I know this role will be the key to the rest of my career. Kids love the little furball, and I'll be famous as his voice--and then the offers for other work will start pouring in...hopefully something a little less juvenile!

P gawks open-mouthed as the receptionist calls G in to read.



Monday, July 3, 2017

Story Fragment #13: Jean-Paul

Jean-Paul Robillard arrived at the lush penthouse apartment of his client, Hank Atkins, precisely at 10 am, just as he had done every morning for the last six months.

"Cuddles!" he called out. Are you ready for zee morning stroll?"

A fuzzy black toy poodle sped toward him, coming out of a door Jean-Paul knew led to Hank's study.

"Naughty girl--you know Hank doesn't allow you in zhere," Jean-Paul chided as he approached her with her leash.

Rather than meekly sitting at his feet, as was her usual custom, Cuddles turned and ran back into the study with a loud bark.

"No games this morning, Cuddles--I have a schedule to keep. Let's get going, non?"

As soon as he entered the study, Jean-Paul's bright blue eyes widened at the scene. Cuddles was pacing back and forth along the length of her owner's body, which lay in front of his desk. Jean-Paul couldn't discern Hank's injuries, but there was enough blood on the beige carpeting to make it obvious they were serious.

The Frenchman reached into his jacket pocket, intending to pull out his phone and call 911, but instead he felt a sharp pain in the back of his head just before everything went black.

When he came to a few minutes later--or he assumed it was just a few minutes, at least--he noticed a fireplace poker that had been left on the floor next to him, and surmised that was the weapon which had been used to render him unconscious. As soon as he could sit up without the room spinning, he made the 911 call. While he waited for help to arrive, he searched the apartment for Cuddles, but she appeared to have vanished along with his attacker, whom he presumed to all be the person who had injured Hank.