Friday, February 24, 2012

A Scribble Fest and a Week of What-ifs

Friday, March 2, 2012
scribble with us at 12:00pm, PST (or whenever works best for you)
Yes, it's finally time for another Scribble Fest!
What's a Scribble Fest?
It's a writing challenge in which participants set themselves a timer and scribble like mad, trying to write as much new material as possible in 10 minutes. It's really fun!

Even if you don't consider yourself much of a writer, this challenge is for you. And to help your brain get in the mood for effective creativity, between now and next Friday, I will be posting daily "What-ifs."
What's that?
Just something for your brain to play with while you're washing dishes or showering or riding in the car. Here's one for today:
What if...
a boy were called upon to do a man-sized job?
Now your job is to play with this in your mind. Don't write anything down, just play with the possibilities. It won't take you long to begin wondering if this might involve a blinding blizzard. Or maybe there's a battle happening outside his family's front door. Maybe he has to provide for his older sister who is terminally ill during the Great Depression. Maybe...
And then you have to wonder why he is being called upon to do a man-sized job. And then you have to duct tape your hands to your sides so you don't start writing another story! (Not that I'm speaking from experience, or anything.) Just take a deep breath, jot down the idea as an idea, and stash it away in a safe place. (I have an "Ideas" folder on my computer for just this sort of thing.)
So what does a week of What-ifs have to do with the Scribble Fest?
It's just brain exercise, really, to get you ready to do some massively fabulous scribbling next Friday. If you've never done a Scribble Fest with us before, I really, seriously beg you to give it a shot. It's so fun, and there are no right or wrong ways to do it so you're sure to succeed! Just to prove it to ya, here are a couple examples from previous Scribble Fests...

"The Watch"

A slight breeze stirred the leaves that fell softly from the trees. The forest floor was covered with orange and yellow. Clouds started creeping up on the sun, blocking the rays that had filtered through the trees onto the young man of about twenty as he bent attentively over the gold watch he held. The back was pryed off and the man was trying, with difficulty, to replace the springs and gears into their working order. A stick snapped behind him and the man whirled around to see nothing--and he bent to work again.
Copyright 2011 Paul W.

"Strange School"

I think my school was the only institution in the world that didn’t want their students to graduate.
I assume the hope was that, by establishing a school, they could mentor the deliquent children and reform them into productive members of society. As soon as you fit into the mold of normalcy, they joyfully escorted you out the door with praises and congratulations. It was a good thing to be taken out of a school. The longer you stayed, the more years of training you had to go through, the more impossible you were. If you reached eighteen and aged out of the system, you were truly criminal. A lost cause.

My teacher had given me several lectures to that effect over the past few weeks leading up to the end of the year. He told me that he had done all he could for me, and that if I didn’t heed his advice, I would officially join the ranks of the Unaccepted. I would be a criminal, without any rights, destined to live in a concentration camp with similar like-minded individuals. I would be an adult.

I didn’t remind him that I had been living in a concentration camp for the past six years of my life. Being a minor hadn’t exactly given me any additional rights, beyond being forced to attend...
Copyright 2011 Aubrey H. (author of Red Rain)


Sally crept quickly near the house, peeking through the window. Glancing at the family doing devotions, she sighed. It must be nice having devotions with your family every night, she thought. Suddenly, remembering her allergies to the Smiths' dog, she ran quietly to the bushes. After her sneezing fit, she ran back to the open window. She had been doing this for almost three months now. Her parents weren't Christians, they were out every night. Sally had so wished for a Christian family ever since she gone to church 4 months ago. So now she knew a lot about the Bible through this Christian family. They never knew she was there, she was very quiet. She had a Bible, but she couldn't bring it since her mother's sister always babysat her and she wasn't Christian either. Afraid she would get caught with a Bible, she remembered the passages in her mind. Later when she got home, she would read them before going to bed. The Smiths' were reading Matthew chapter 5 tonight.. First came the Beatitudes, which she had memorized on her own. The Smiths' children had too. This was their reciting night. As Sally watched from the window, a small tear dripped from her eye.
Copyright 2011 Sydney W.


In the dim corner of the room sat a figure. Firelight played upon his hawk-like face, shadows haunting the many wrinkles and the hollows of his deepset eyes. His silver beard spilled onto the dark green woolen cloak clasped about his shoulders. In the shadows, his eyes were on the merry feast before him, but he did not seem to really be seeing, because, in his rough, strong hands he held a small harp. As he looked before him, his mind was on the soft notes resonating through the smooth, curved wood. Resonating through the wood to his bones and into his soul. He played notes so soft only he could hear them. It had been this way for a long time. He did not mind, as he slowly play the chords of his favorite ballad. For all these years, as he had travelled the dusty roads and been received everywhere as an honored guest because of his music, it seemed that some part of his songs only he could hear. This feasting crowd, like the rest, would smile and dance and enjoy his music, but only he would understand the deeper, stronger pull of the ballads he loved so well.
Copyright 2011 Perry Elisabeth

For details about how the Scribble Fest works, visit this post. IMPORTANT: you may want to follow by email (see sidebar) so you will receive the topic and rules for this particular Scribble Fest.

I hope to see your Scribble!


  1. *checks calendar* Friday... clear! Good, I should be able to participate fully this time. :)

    I love the what-if questions! Great idea for your blog!

    I'm honored that you chose my Scribble Fest entry as an example. :) *needs to work on that book...*

    1. Hooray! We get Aubrey!

      "I'm honored that you chose my Scribble Fest entry as an example. :) *needs to work on that book...*"

      And I was honored that you participated. You'd better watch out, though, because if any other Red Rain fans see you saying you need to work on Blue Fire, well...
      Let's just say, I think they'll hold you to it! ;)