Harry pulled his collar to the wind and the damp, and squatted. Even his smoke had a hard time staying lit in this weather. He glanced at the other well-tended graves to the left and right.
“Waste of space. Should ‘ve let you out for the vultures.” He took the smoke out of his mouth and spat on the dirt mound. He stood up, ignored the popping sounds his knees made, dropped the cigarette, and stomped it with his foot.
“Sure took your sweet time dying. I thought you’d never give up.
A couple of weeks ago, I reblogged Lara Willard’s post about the different choices a writer has to get published. Even though I decided that traditional publishing was what I wanted, I’d still like to know what the other side has to offer, because deep down I haven’t rejected the idea of self publishing something. However, since I’m not yet published (either self pubished or trad published) I’d like to know the pros and cons of each.
So I turn to you. What is your take on this? Why did you choose the publishing path you chose? I’d really appreciate it if you took the time to answer. Please feel free to reblog this (in fact, I’d be very happy if you did), or talk about it to as many of your writer-friends as you can. The more people answer, the clearer the picture for me and others will be. So far, the options I know about are the following:
A) Self-publish
B) Traditional Publish (either through an agency or through a small press. I think we can all agree that vanity presses should be excluded)
C) Hybrid
If I’ve missed any other option, please comment. You can select more than one option.
I think most of you must have heard of the story of the pied piper. How about you attempt to retell the story? Perhaps a kid wants to save kitties (from someone or something) and lures them to safety, or maybe the child heard of the folk tale and wanted to do the same, but only managed to lure one cat (a neighbour’s cat or from someone who needed the cat; you can expand on that and create conflict).
Or the flute is magical and is the only way for the two of them to communicate. Perhaps the cat (or any other animal you choose) understands the child needs her and guides him to the flute.
Today I learned the truth. Today my father’s actions made sense for the first time; why he always locked all the doors and windows every time I went to bed, why he scratched those strange markings on their frames, but mostly why my door had so many of them. Why he had the village healer inscribe both my eyelids with the same symbol. Today I learned why the entire village feared me, and cast me and my family away in the forest. Today, under the ancient weeping willow at the heart of the forest, I reshaped reality. My reality. I’m not sure, but I think there’s three of me now, and the other two were not very happy they were held captives for so long.
At the end of this post is a poll. I’d like to hear your opinion.
What do you think? A daredevil perhaps? A bet gone awfully wrong? Or perhaps a bet the stuntman is going to win and silence those who thought him/her crazy? Could it be the epitome of a professional juggler’s career where he was always bested by someone else? Could it be an illusion? Something someone else sees, perhaps a person who has always lived life in a very protected environment, snapped, and now sees things that aren’t there, things like that? Or what if this is a different version of Pennywise the Clown?
Now, the poll. What do you prefer the most, when it comes to inspirational prompts like this? A picture or a few lines of prose of one possible story to get you started? Perhaps a combination? I’d really like to know what you like.
