Somehow, I ended up with 5,000 Twitter followers.
Frankly, if you were to ask me, I’d say that following me is a sign of dubious moral standing and, most likely, an indicator of a brain parasite. You might wanna have that checked out by a priest and/or doctor.
Whatever the case, it is what it is and there you all are and I’m thankful to have you turning an ear toward my lunatic broadcasting. I appreciate you dialing into my penmonkey frequency.
This feels like a good time to give some shit away.
So, here’s what’s on the table:
(1) copy of Irregular Creatures in PDF or Kindle.
(1) copy of Confessions of a Freelance Penmonkey in PDF or Kindle.
(1) copy of 250 Things You Should Know About Writing in PDF or Kindle.
(1) Penmonkey postcard sent to you via Jolly Olde Snail Mail, and on this postcard I will ink a random thought about writing all for you. I might also pass out on the postcard and smear it with drool.
Here, then, is how you get that.
Drop down into the comments.
Write a story using three sentences.
My favorite gets the package.
You have one day — I’ll check back here at 2pm EST tomorrow (24 hours from now) and will pick.
And thank you again, awesome humans. You tickle this little inkslinger’s pink parts.
Go forth and write boldly.
[EDIT: See comments for results!]
Tmgray says:
Julia’s mother had always told her that suicides went straight to hell. After her father had beat her after finding out she was pregnant with his incestuous child, she decided she didn’t care. Julia only learned how right her mother had been when she opened her eyes to see her father’s furious face in the dim lights of her hospital room.
August 3, 2011 — 5:34 PM
Casey says:
A woman brought up a pail of water at the town well, watching a well dressed traveler approach, she called him over and said, “I’m Andrea The Interested, who are you?”
“I am Guantanamo The Longwinded, for I have been cursed to speak without stops forever and ever–”
“Tell me a story!” said Andrea, interestedly.
August 3, 2011 — 5:35 PM
astarael_7th says:
Candice had to admit she WAS a bit miffed the apocalypse happened the week before her wedding was planned. As she straightened the veil on her head and checked the gun holstered at her side, she nodded to her determined reflection. Zombie groom or not, she was getting married.
August 3, 2011 — 5:39 PM
Chris Pruett says:
In spite of recent events the room still held pleasant memories for Gabrielle. She let her eyes play one last time over the bed where she spent so many afternoons with him, the dirty picture window that gave her a commanding view over the city, and the desk that still held all the letters. Turning to leave she muttered, “Damn you Chuck,” before throwing the lit match onto the pile of blankets.
August 3, 2011 — 5:41 PM
Joe Myers says:
Hanging bowed over the big church doors, it looks like the angels are screaming. Inch by inch, I drag myself up the steps and stare out at the shapes just past the gates – formless, soundless, all wrapped in fog save for the glint of beetle-black eyes over impossibly wide grins. I pull the box out of my pocket; soon they’re not smiling anymore.
August 3, 2011 — 5:53 PM
M1492 says:
Leslie stretched, ready for a much needed nap after clubbing all night. Without shame she thought about the cute guy she had hooked up with in the bathroom only ten minutes after meeting him. Being a vampire made Leslie thankful those guys never called her back in the morning.
August 3, 2011 — 5:55 PM
Angela says:
Green numbers are all I see, and it fills me with disgust. Blaring music is all I hear, and it fill me with dread. I turn off the alarm and continue hating Mondays.
August 3, 2011 — 5:58 PM
Danielle S. says:
“Oh nards,” he muttered, while the gorilla continued its charge. It was, as they say, clearly time to do or die, and while Rock Handsome had always been the sort of man that had no problem “doing it,” he wasn’t nearly as confident that dying would be a stone cold groove. Yet even as he allowed himself to entertain this dark thought, he scrambled atop a nearby boulder and, with a yawlp, leapt onto the creature’s vast and mightily thewed back.
August 3, 2011 — 6:01 PM
Haroudo says:
So, officer, I was on this street and got an easy mark.
But the skinny fucker knew Karate and bust my balls.
Can I press charges now, can we compromise?
August 3, 2011 — 6:02 PM
Jim Marko says:
I saw nothing but heard the muffled sounds of Taj Mahal’s Fishin’ Blues which seemed odd since my wife hated any song that reminded her of her seafood allergy no matter if I loved it or not. When I woke again still I was in darkness and could not move a muscle but now I could hear a sound something like hail falling on a porch roof, and then what could have been burlap bags of Blue Forest coffee being stacked right above me, and then nothing. Suddenly I remembered the last words I had spoken to my wife the last words I would ever speak, “I know it’s Port-au-Prince and all but isn’t blowfish an odd sushi roll?”
August 3, 2011 — 6:09 PM
Wil A. says:
The warm blood dripped from the tip of the cold steel blade in my hand and fell to the growing puddle on the floor below. The eyes looking back at me were open, but it was clear that there was no life left in them. What have I done?
August 3, 2011 — 6:12 PM
astarael_7th says:
(I guess my comment disappeared)
Julia’s mother had always told her suicides went straight to hell. After being beaten by her father after he learned she was pregnant with his incestuous child, she decided she no longer cared. Julia only learned how right her mother had been when she opened her eyes to her father’s furious face in the dim lights of her hospital room.
August 3, 2011 — 6:26 PM
Ali says:
“Why did you come back?”
“Forgot my wallet,” he said, smirking.
That’s what I shot the smug bastard.
August 3, 2011 — 6:27 PM
Amy Tupper says:
To my horror, the hand-written manuscript slipped from the crook of my arm onto the subway tracks. Jumping down into the tracks, I gathered the pages as quickly as I could while onlookers on the queue above me screamed. Without it, I was noth-.
August 3, 2011 — 6:31 PM
astarael_7th says:
*sigh* Computer life/hack. Julia’s story is for tmgray and MINE was the zombie one.
August 3, 2011 — 6:33 PM
Brandi Strand says:
The bar was crowded but she lit the room as if a spotlight shown from her. Her vitality filled the air like the blood red wine in her glass. As the gun fell from his hand he consumed her dimming light.
August 3, 2011 — 6:44 PM
Dan Krokos says:
(My phone entry doesn’t seem to be appearing. Sorry if this is a double post.)
The bad men came and took Pa away. They said they’d bring him right back. They didn’t, so now I’m man of the house.
August 3, 2011 — 6:49 PM
Callista says:
On the afternoon his father was convicted, his mother had quarantined the door to the third story, sealed it as though a barricade of boxes and layer of boards nailed over a green tarp could go back in time and keep Melanie safe and whole. Now his mother was gone and his sister’s last breath came rushing down twenty-three years, tumbling on the narrow stairs, bearing desperate, musty fears into his mouth, his lungs, his trembling child-heart; he doubled over and retched, sweat condensing on his forehead as the chill cut to his marrow. Above him were the last two rooms to clean out, but he was not prepared, would never be prepared.
August 3, 2011 — 6:59 PM
Incognitiously says:
The damage he’d done to her was murderous and immeasurable. Well, not entirely immeasurable. Though it was definitely longer than the much more efficient stretch of sharpened metal she’d just jabbed through his now-draining neck.
August 3, 2011 — 7:11 PM
Bob Bois says:
The Zombie Congress was in session.
The senior Senator from Ohio, Thaddeus Blather, ate his intern.
Ohio is a bellwether state.
August 3, 2011 — 7:33 PM
Delia says:
As the apocalypse reached his threshold, Charles peeked out the door to put a face to the threat. A passel of unicorns, whiskey bottles hanging from their bloodied horns, pranced through the yard leaving streaks of gore and glitter and neighing something that sounded oddly like, “Beard the fuck on!” He clutched his glass tighter and bolted the door.
August 3, 2011 — 9:11 PM
Andrew Jack says:
We hid under the stairs while the thing rampaged through the house, occasionally a piece of furniture smashed into the wall opposite.
“He seems angry,” I said to Jude.
She pointed at my feet, “You stole his shoes!”
August 3, 2011 — 9:20 PM
Amber J Gardner says:
Michael was a bully and everyone hated him. Everyone rejoiced when he stopped coming to school. It was only later they found out he had learned everything from his dad, who showed up on the evening news for manslaughter.
August 3, 2011 — 9:25 PM
Amber J Gardner says:
I really wish I could delete my comments.
If it’s permissible, ignore that entry and use this one:
“Michael was a bully and everyone hated him. So they all rejoiced when he stopped coming to school. It was only later they found out he had learned everything from his dad, who showed up on the evening news for manslaughter.”
*nitpicks*
August 3, 2011 — 9:28 PM
Brian Buckley says:
Convincing twenty-two marmosets to mate with eighty-five gerbils: surprisingly difficult.
Convincing the United States Fish And Wildlife Service to recognize one hundred forty-three marmils as an endangered species: surprisingly easy.
Federal funding to sip Killian’s on our freaky monkey farm: TOTALLY worth it.
[I already own two of the four prizes so I’ll withdraw myself from the running. This one’s just for fun. Congrats, Chuck!!]
August 3, 2011 — 9:51 PM
Wesley-James Robinson says:
I met her. I loved her. She never knew.
August 3, 2011 — 10:58 PM
Meagan Worthington says:
I am.
I write therefor.
Therefore…
August 3, 2011 — 11:04 PM
Jeff Chapman says:
Hypergraphia made him puke words to paper; a daily battle between hand and mind.
Ostracized, the condition rode him like a crazed prophet, his warnings unheard.
The day it stopped he had five minutes of peace – the world ended.
August 3, 2011 — 11:16 PM
Michael Montoure says:
It took me weeks of searching, but I finally found the girl from the “MISSING” posters, the girl with the sky blue eyes and the blond hair as soft as sunlight, and rescued her from her kidnappers. “My father has money,” she tells me, “he’d make you rich if you’ll just take me home,” but I just know someday, she’ll learn to like it here. I read the posters very carefully, and they just said she was missing — they never said I had to give her back.
August 3, 2011 — 11:28 PM
Laura W. says:
The dragon was slain, the tower door open at last — all that stood in her way was the knight.
“Save me,” he choked, blood seeping through the rents in his shining armor.
The princess smiled sweetly and stepped over him to freedom.
August 3, 2011 — 11:30 PM
Steph says:
She squeezed the trigger, and it died doing what it loved best: running wild through the north woods. She hung it upside down from a tree and parted it out, dumping the rotten parts in the bog. She stuffed the usable pieces, of which there were a surprising many, into a giant crock, turned the stove on to a slow simmer, and started cooking up her story once again.
August 3, 2011 — 11:47 PM
Chad Kallauner says:
Damn, SO many good ones here!
You have your work cut out for you, Chuck!
August 4, 2011 — 12:05 AM
Gabryyl Vaughan says:
“I love you.”
“I love you, too.”
“Oh, yeah, I also slept with your sister.”
August 4, 2011 — 12:06 AM
liz norris says:
She was battered and bruised, too stiff and aching for anything but slow, careful, and graceless movements. Tilting her face to the sky, the dried blood on her face and neck made her skin feel tight, but rain on her face had never felt sweeter. Even if she died from her injuries, it wouldn’t matter–she would die free.
August 4, 2011 — 12:17 AM
Ryan D. says:
Danika laughed at the spaceship every third cycle as she tumbled toward the earth, which was full and bright in the moonlight. The latch she was tethered to hit her in the back, followed by four stripped bolts like bullets from a cartoon gun stuck in slow motion. “The sky is a suitable burial ground,” she lied, wishing she could have one last cheese fry before reentry.
August 4, 2011 — 12:40 AM
Andy Woodworth says:
“So, this one time when I was arguing on the internet, and I-”
“You do realize that, when you argue on the internet, you are using massive amounts of fossil fuels just to enter text at your location, have it converted to 1’s and 0’s, shot through fiber optic wiring to millions of other places on the planet, and still not have changed the world in the slightest?”
“Look, if you don’t want any pillow talk, just say so.”
August 4, 2011 — 1:04 AM
Dan Brophy says:
Holcomb only wished he had thought to show Boris the suitcase and the girl on his arm before depositing them safely in the Landrover parked just over the dunes, but Boris was sputtering and heaving from gasoline fumes by then anyway and probably wouldn’t have appreciated the gesture. Holcomb finished his cigarette and flicked it toward the beach house as the roof fell into the fire. He was smart enough to know Holly wouldn’t be the last girl he’d love, but she would be for Boris.
August 4, 2011 — 1:34 AM
TH3 eNINJA says:
Toby was all jacked up. A lifelong love of comic books, eight years of intense martial arts training, and even his homemade ninja battle suit had helped in the realization of his dream. It was quite nearly a flawless victory, if not for that last guy who apparently loved comic books even more.
August 4, 2011 — 1:41 AM
TaraMonster says:
By the time the doors to the El slid open to admit her an hour later, Jane’s hair and clothes were plastered to her skin by the downpour. She shivered in the air-conditioned car as it idled in the station, staring curiously at the other, indescribably dry passengers, not spotting a single umbrella. Wondering what the hold up was, Jane peered through the rain-streaked window where a group of people stood huddled around her corpse on the platform.
August 4, 2011 — 2:30 AM
Victoria says:
I balked. “I’m listening,” he said. And changed the channel.
August 4, 2011 — 2:44 AM
Jim Franklin says:
The groaning continued, as shrivelled bony fingers clawed and scratched through the gap in the door. Piece by piece the door splintered, and more arms and fingers appeared, grasping for them. Looking around to see nothing except four solid walls, he lifted the gun up to his mouth, pulled the trigger and left his family waiting for their own demise.
August 4, 2011 — 3:23 AM
TH3 eNINJA says:
Toby was all jacked up. The battered and broken bodies of gang members were strewn about — eight years of martials arts training and hours spent custom tailoring his ninja battle suit had finally paid off. It would’ve been a flawless victory, if not for that last guy that pulled a gun.
August 4, 2011 — 3:30 AM
TH3 eNINJA says:
A typo? A TYPO?! Reaaaaaally? Excuse me while I commit seppuku.
August 4, 2011 — 3:36 AM
Gabor Cs. says:
Ever since the existence of parallel universes was discovered and proved by science in 1952, he kept wondering about them and about the many ‘copies’ of himself leading wildly various lives in them.
“I’m sure I’m more famous and more influential in some alternate worlds, darling,” he said to his young, smiling wife who stood relaxed, posing nude for his latest oil painting in front of the open window overlooking the bright and breezy summer gardens of Paris.
“Yet because of you and our life here, I would not switch places with any of them, would never give up being the happy, sixty-seven years old Adolf, rather mediocre painter of amazing beauties and worshiper of a single goddess.”
August 4, 2011 — 3:48 AM
Geoff Skellams says:
They’re coming; I can hear them on the other side of the door. I’ve only got four bullets left. Whatever you do, for God’s sake, don’t open the bunker when you get here.
August 4, 2011 — 4:02 AM
Stephan says:
Jeff felt physically sick at the thought of eating the meal his girlfriend had cooked for him. No amount of marinading and preparation could disguise the fact that she had served him lamb. It always reminded him of the time a sheep had touched him inappropriately as a child.
August 4, 2011 — 4:04 AM
Toni in Florida says:
When the aneurysm blew and you fell to the kitchen floor in a lifeless heap Sunday evening, the cat-food dish was full. It’s Thursday noon, you’re still lying there and I finished the Meow Mix early Tuesday morning. I hope your boss sends someone to find out why you’ve missed work all week tonight, before you become too decomposed to stomach safely.
(Chuck: You didn’t ask for a title, but I’m calling it “Death of a Cat Lady”.)
August 4, 2011 — 5:37 AM
Harry Markov says:
Dad sharpened his razor on his belt, hands intent, though I tried not to think of what he had to do soon.
All I knew at that time, fingers digging in the wooden window sill, was that the bees were coming.
Dad lifted his sharpened blade in my direction, but he took too much time; the window burst and bees’ wings eclipsed the room.
August 4, 2011 — 5:52 AM
Harry Markov says:
I hope I am not late on this one though… 🙁
August 4, 2011 — 6:01 AM