Unofficial Playlist/Old Souls

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Before we delve into this musical post a big congrats goes out to Allison Maruska, winner of the 15th Scribble Challenge! Allison is the author of the runaway hit, The Fourth Descendant, YA novel, Drake and the Fliers, and the Project Renovatio Trilogy. Her entry to the last challenge of the season accrued the most votes ANY Scribble Challenge has ever received.

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Check out her website, AllisonMaruska.com, for great flash fiction and writing tips. We’re all looking forward to your guest post here on Scribbles, Allison!

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The hellions are finished school for the summer.

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It’s great, because I can see them more often, and not great, because: writing.

There was a time I needed complete and utter silence to concentrate on my WIP. It was a BASTARD of a handicap. Life is loud. If ye authorly type-layers wait for optimal conditions to get anything done, the pace of ye work will inevitably suffer. That’s an old English proverb. Probably.

I had to train myself to write in a madhouse. My trick? Grabbing a set of headphones and subjecting the old eardrums to blaring music. As I tap away at my computer now, I’m happily listening to the Arctic Monkeys scream I Wanna be Yours while thirteen thousand of the hellions’ friends raid my cupboards for (crack) sugary snacks.

Over the years, the tracks I’ve listened to repeatedly while working on Old Souls have evolved into a playlist. While many budding authors dream of big-screen grandeur, it’s my hope that the story is developed into a Game of Thrones style television series one day, following the lives of my immortal characters back and forth through time.

For your listening pleasure, here are a few songs from the Old Souls soundtrack:

Lucien burns down The Gate:

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Dreaming of Layla:

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Doubts of sanity:

(Also the song I would use in my book trailer, if the world was a perfect place.)

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Khai arrives at the hospital:

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Layla talks about her time on Devon Island:

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Rhiannon dies:

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Lucien and Layla on the Carrier Pigeon:

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The Stones attack Silas’ Ending Ceremony:

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Lucien remembers pieces of his past:

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Layla suffers in the Trogue Lair:

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Layla is captured:

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The Anunna leave Nigeria:

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Morrigan kisses Lucien:

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Lucien leaves for Ellis Fort:

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The attack on Devon Island:

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Morrigan’s revenge:

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Catching up with Doctor Brauen:

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End:

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As I mentioned: The list is incomplete, but Wordpress doesn’t love all these YouTube links. It’s possible a more complete list will be posted when the book comes out.

For those who have been wondering, Old Souls edits are going well! Stay tuned to Scribbles for summer updates.

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#SSC Wrap-Up

 

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We’ve reached the end of the Scribble Challenge season.

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It’s been a lot of fun! But, it’s not quite over yet. We need to announce the winner of the 14th Scribble Challenge! A big congrats goes to: Allan G. Smorra. His response to the prompt?

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Sharon noticed the tall bearded man walk into the lobby of the restaurant, stop and slowly glance around the dining area. He fit the description on his dating site and she raised her hand to catch his attention. Joe noticed the movement out of the corner of his eye, smiled and headed in her direction. Halfway there he caught the leg of a chair with the toe of his shoe and stumbled towards her table. “First time with the new foot?” Sharon quipped.

Joe pulled up the leg of his pants to reveal an artificial leg. “As a matter of fact, it is.”

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I’m sure everyone is just as excited as I am to read your guest post, Allan!

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And hey, Scribbles is now accepting votes for Last Week’s Challenge. Because it’s the end of the season, we’re opening the voting polls to EVERYONE. Just check the responses to the prompt below and email your vote to: SundayScribbleChallenge@gmail.com.

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LAST WEEK’S PROMPT:

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“The challenge is based on something our family has been experiencing. One of the hellions talks in his sleep. It’s generally limited to sentence or two, most of which is completely unintelligible.

It’s the same for the characters of the prompt. But, one night the child says something the parents understand. Something entirely unexpected. They come to realize their little one isn’t sleep-talking at all, but rather, a being is speaking THROUGH them.

The submission should contain the line (or two) of dialogue, as well as the parents’ reaction when they realize who–or what–has been attempting to communicate for so long.”

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Rachel Forsberg:

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I don’t know why I woke. The house was quiet, the weather calm. The kids were sleeping. I stared out the window, thinking about all the things I’d have to do the next day, wishing I could fall back asleep.

And then heard the whispers. They were soft at first. Fleeting.

I shook my husband awake as they grew louder, coming from just across the hall. “It’s Keiran,” I said. “He’s sleep-talking again.”

It was an old habit. Usually the words came in just a sentence or two, that we rarely understood. But lately the murmurings had become something close to fervent. He lay in his bed, tossing and turning as we came in, pale skin gleaming in a thin sweat. I sank into the bed. Goosebumps rose along on my arms and up my neck.

My husband knelt beside us, eyes still puffy with sleep. “What’s he saying?”

A gust of wind filtered in through the open window. Kieran’s whispers had become words, loud words I couldn’t understand. They were clear, crisp, and urgent, and completely foreign.

I shrugged at my husband, eyes wide.

Trees swayed violently out the window. A light spread over the yard. Kieran jerked upright in the bed, his gaze wild and lurching, coughing and clawing at his throat as the light grew bright outside. Blood trickled from his mouth when he spoke again.

“I told you we were coming.”

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Allison Maruska

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“I’m happy,” Connor mutters in his sleep. As usual, his eyes stay shut, but not as usual, his words are completely clear.

I haven’t tried to reply before, but what the hell? It could get us a good laugh. “What are you happy about?”

“Where I am. I’m happy. I like the brown doggie with the white spot. He plays with me. He likes to chase.”

“Brown doggie?” I glance at my husband. “He’s not talking about-”

“I think he is.”

I sit on the end of the bed. If he means Trigger, our brown Pit with an adorable white spot on his head, then he’s talking about the pet we had before he was born. Had Connor seen a picture of the dog?

“Connor,” I ask. “What’s the dog’s name.”

“Not Connor.”

“No, that’s your name. What’s the dog called?”

“Hunter. I’m Hunter. And I’m happy.” After a long sigh, Connor rolls over, pulling the covers under his chin.

“What?”

Shaking his head, my husband rushes out of the room.

I haven’t heard his name in so long – Hunter, our baby who died at three months old. The older brother Connor never met.

I can’t leave this bed. Connor may talk in his sleep again.

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Juliet Nubel

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They sat on each side of her pink, princess bed. Sue stroked her daughter’s sticky, tousled, blond head, watching intently as her beautiful rosebud mouth moved, making a series of strange, loud sounds – ‘Ant, ant, ant.’ Always the same noises, almost every night for the last six months.

‘It’s getting worse, Sue. It’s much louder and she seems really perturbed now.’ He took Emily’s tiny hand, his brow creased deep with concern.

Short, quick gulps replaced his daughter’s calm breathing.

‘Ant, can you hear me? Ant, are you there?’ This was no longer their little girl speaking. Antony’s eyes flashed in recognition. Only one person had ever called him by this childish nickname.

‘I’m here’, he replied gently. ‘What’s wrong?’

‘You need to tell your Dad that I hid it. It’s in a nylon stocking taped to the back of the top drawer in my dresser. He must find it before he signs the papers for the house and all the furniture tomorrow. It’s for Sue. He must give it to Sue. I can’t get through to him, Ant. Call him now, please.’ The voice faded to a low hum, and Emily returned to a deep, dreamless sleep.

‘Mum, are you still there? Mum, I miss you so much!’ Anthony bent over the pink and white checkered quilt and wept silent tears of pure, undistilled grief.

As Sue looked over at her husband, he lifted his head, slowly wiped away the tears, then dialled his father’s number.

‘Dad, sorry to wake you. I know where to look for Mum’s diamond ring…’

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Chocobosage

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The baby monitor let out the usual random babbling of their kid as she slept, a bit of laughing and some murmured half words. Then the dog sat up on alert, staring at the monitor intently. A low static came from the speaker which startled the parents, then silence. They both went to check on the baby and upon opening the door, found the window open and several different birds in the room surrounding their child. Watching her like they awaited instruction.

Then the child said: “Hello my friends, I hope you’re all keeping well?”

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Dysfunctional Womans Digest

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Tonight he would be prepared. Climbing into bed with a pencil and pad of paper, his plan was to have these items ready as soon as the child was asleep and her lips began to move. The child’s sleep-talking had begun a few weeks ago and he didn’t pay much attention to her gibberish at first but over the following weeks the noises had turned into an intelligible form of discourse. Her audible murmurings were beginning to reveal things that a child of four, his child of four, should not and could not know. Her mother had been equally disturbed.

“I don’t know when all of this started but I am not getting any rest since Daphne starting sleeping in our bed,” she had said. “First it was your insomnia and now it’s her talking and rolling around and I am exhausted.” She pointed to the bags under her eyes as confirmation.

“I know, honey,” said Paul. “Let’s start a new bedtime routine tomorrow and we will make sure to wear Daphne out at the park in the afternoon. It shouldn’t take but a few days and then we will be getting a good night’s rest again, OK, honey?”

Paul secretly hoped that tonight he would be able to jot down what he was certain was an intelligence from another dimension. Somehow, someway, a transmission was occurring through his child and he could swear that he had been specifically chosen for this revelation. He just wished that his wife would not interfere until he could accurately transcribe the mysterious knowledge.

Paul reached to turn-out the light as his wife rolled over with a deep sigh and said goodnight. Setting the pad of paper and his pencil next to the bed, Paul made certain that his unopened refill of risperidone was still carefully concealed.

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Larisanjou *New Entry*

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Our beautiful child, the image of angelic perfection.

Just a short while ago, she’d been stomping her feet and crying in frustration. I thought bedtime would be the solution to her little temper tantrum.

From behind the pile of work on my desk, I’d heard the rustling of tossing and turning from her room. I tiptoed over to peek in on her. Cool full-moon light cut across her rosy tearstained cheeks. Her smooth brow contorted into a tangle, and she whimpered like an injured puppy. Fat tears pushed out from her tightly-squeezed eyes.
My heart cracked.

What could my child, my innocent daughter, possibly be disturbed by? What monster is chasing her through dreamland? At that age, dreamworld should be a lovely place of magic and infinite possibility.

“Do you still love me?”

I felt a painfully familiar hot stone forming in my stomach.

“I know I’m not good enough, I’ll never be…”

Through the mouth of my child, I heard the voice of my own demon.

How many times had she seen me, ripping my hair out at a project gone wrong? Crying over yet another rejection letter? Mentally flagellating myself, repenting for the sin of being myself? I was teaching her the art of self-loathing.

I removed her crumpled drawing from the trash. She had thrown it away in a blind fit, screaming, “It’s not good enough! I hate this! I’m bad!” The air had vibrated electric yellow.

Now, in the deep blue light, I unfurled it.

A single tear dropped onto her drawing.

It was a family portrait. Two smiling parents holding hands with their child in the middle, standing under a rainbow.

She had scribbled over her own face.

“Come to bed, honey.”

My husband’s gravelly whisper muffled the sound of my guilt. I turned to look at him, eyes overflowing with a lifetime of shame and overdue apologies.

“We’ll do better tomorrow.”

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Good luck to all our participants. The replies were some of my favorite submissions of the season. The winner will be hard to pick!

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#SSC 15/ June 18-24th

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It’s here!

The Final Scribble Challenge of 2017.

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The last challenge of the season is based on something our family has been experiencing. One of the hellions talks in his sleep. It’s generally limited to sentence or two, most of which is completely unintelligible.

It’s the same for the characters of your prompt. But, one night the child says something the parents understand. Something entirely unexpected. They come to realize their little one isn’t sleep-talking at all, but rather, a being is speaking THROUGH them.

Your submission should contain the line (or two) of dialogue, as well as the parents’ reaction when they realize who or what has been attempting to communicate for so long.

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RULES OF THE CHALLENGE:

1. Participants have until Saturday, June 17th at noon, Eastern standard time to post ONE response to the prompt in the comment section of THIS POST.
2. ENCOURAGE other scribblers. Try to comment (reply) to at least three other submissions during the week.
3. As usual, after the Saturday deadline, players have a week to VOTE for their favorite submission by emailing: Sundayscribblechallenge@gmail.com. Place the lucky author’s name in the HEADER of your email.

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NOW to announce the winner of the 13th Scribble Challenge, where the main character was buried alive. After a few hours the victim heard what sounded like digging in the dirt. He or she soon realized the sound was coming from BENEATH them. Participants were to write the next line of dialogue, whether it came from the victim or their guest.

The votes were tallied, and the winner of #SSC 13 is Sarah Brentyn!

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Sarah’s snappy submission:

Sarah has been invited to write a post here, on Scribbles on Cocktail Napkins. We can’t wait to see what she comes out with!

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*Remember, the primary focus of the #SSC is to help authors forge connections within the writing community. So, if you respond to this week’s prompt, just remember to comment (reply) to a minimum of THREE other entries before voting opens on Saturday, June 17th.

Get to know each other!

These challenges are coming to an end, so take a look at one another’s sites now.

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#SSC 14/ June 11-17th

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The Second Last Scribble Challenge of 2017.

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The primary focus of the #SSC is to help authors forge connections within the writing community. So, if you respond to this week’s prompt, just remember to comment (reply) to at least three other entries before voting opens on Saturday, June 17th. Get to know each other! These challenges are coming to an end. Take a look at one another’s sites now.

It starts with a prompt every Sunday. The responses need only be short and sweet. Or short and scary. Or, short and funny. The point is, the challenge will always require short replies on purpose . . . so YOU have no excuses.

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This week’s CHALLENGE:

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It’s a BLIND DATE.

And, it’s going great until one character’s unsettling confession.

You have two paragraphs to work in.

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RULES OF THE CHALLENGE:

1. Participants have until Saturday, June 17th at noon, Eastern standard time to post ONE response to the prompt in the comment section of THIS POST.
2. ENCOURAGE other scribblers. Try to comment (reply) to at least three other submissions during the week.
3. After the Saturday deadline, players have a week to VOTE for their favorite submission by emailing: Sundayscribblechallenge@gmail.com. Place the lucky author’s name in the HEADER of your email.
   

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NOW to announce the winner of the 12th Sunday Scribble Challenge. The six word challenge (with a twist) received the most responses to a challenge this site has EVER seen! Thanks to all who participated, and a big congratulations to WARD CLEVER, who WON with this witty response:

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Your Prize?

All challenge winners, (that means YOU, Ward), are invited to write a GUEST POST on Scribbles on Cocktail Napkins with LINKS to their own work.

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Did you Know?

Guest posts are a FANTASTIC way for writers and bloggers to reach a previously untapped audience. Not sure how to tackle YOUR guest  blog? Check out the Whys and Hows of Guest Blogging on DanAlatorre.com for pro tips.

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#SSC 13/ June 4 – 10th

 

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For THREE more weeks, the challenge you love is back.

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It starts with a prompt every Sunday. The responses need only be short and sweet. Or short and scary. Or, short and funny. The point is, the challenge will always require short replies on purpose . . . so YOU have no excuses.

Last week we received a RECORD number of submissions, with almost forty entries to the challenge. Keep those replies coming! You are what makes the Sunday Scribble Challenge so much fun.

*PLEASE NOTE: The primary focus of the #SSC is to help authors forge connections within the writing community. So, if you decide to respond to this week’s prompt, just remember to comment (reply) to at least three other entries before voting opens on Saturday, June 10th.

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The prize?

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All challenge winners are invited to write a GUEST POST on Scribbles on Cocktail Napkins with LINKS to their own work.

Guest blogs are a FANTASTIC way for writers and bloggers to reach a previously untapped audience.

Not sure how to tackle YOUR guest post? Stay tuned to DanAlatorre.com this Friday, where I’ll be posting an article about the Whys and Hows of . . . you guessed it. Guest blogging.

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Speaking of WINNERS, it’s time to announce the winner of the 11th Sunday Scribble Challenge, all about PHOBIAS. Congratulations, Allie Potts! The votes have been tallied and you WON with this great entry:An email has been sent with your guest blog invitation. We can’t wait to see what you come up with!

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And Now for this week’s CHALLENGE:

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Someone has buried your character alive. After a few hours, the victim hears what sounds like digging in the dirt. Soon, he or she realizes the sound is coming from BENEATH them.

Your mission, should you choose to accept it, is to write the next line of dialogue, whether it comes from the victim or their guest.

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RULES OF THE CHALLENGE:

1. Participants have until Saturday, June 10th at noon, Eastern standard time to post ONE response to the prompt in the comment section of THIS POST.
2. ENCOURAGE other scribblers. Try to comment (reply) to at least three other submissions during the week.
3. After the Saturday deadline, players have a week to VOTE for their favorite submission by emailing: Sundayscribblechallenge@gmail.com. Place the lucky author’s name in the HEADER of your email.
   

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#SSC 12, May 28 – June 3rd

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For a limited run of six weeks only, the challenge you love is back.

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It starts with a prompt every Sunday. The responses need only be short and sweet. Or short and scary. Or, short and funny. The point is, the challenge will always require short replies on purpose . . . so YOU have no excuses.

The primary focus of the #SSC is to help authors forge connections in the writing community. So, if you decide to respond to this week’s prompt, just remember to comment (reply) to at least three other entries before voting opens on Saturday, June 3rd.

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The prize?

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All challenge winners are invited to write a GUEST POST on Scribbles on Cocktail Napkins with LINKS to their own work.

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This week the Scribble Challenge prompt is a throwback to my FAVORITE #SSC of 2016. Your mission (should you choose to accept it) is to:

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A six word story might seem impossible. It isn’t! Check out a few of the responses to the challenge last year:

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“Stormy night. Checked in Hotel California.”    –JackieP

“Used spellbook. Burns, cover damaged. Cheap.”   –Joy Pixley

“He’s innocent. Her evidence says otherwise.”  –EDC Writing

“Book falls to bed.
Reader?
Vanished.”   –J. H. Winter, Author

“Sadly, the only witness was blind.”   –Allison Maruska

“The meatloaf tasted funny. Where’s Grandma?”   -Ahdad

“Grandma visited today. As a ghost.”  –Stomperdad

“Amongst toys and coffins they lay.”   –Ellenbest24

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RULES OF THE CHALLENGE:

1. Participants have until Saturday, June 3rd at noon, Eastern standard time to post ONE response to the prompt in the comment section of THIS POST.
2. ENCOURAGE other scribblers. Try to comment (reply) to at least three other submissions during the week.
3. After the Saturday deadline, players have a week to VOTE for their favorite submission by emailing: Sundayscribblechallenge@gmail.com. Place the lucky author’s name in the HEADER of your email.
   

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And now, the moment you’ve all been waiting for. These are the winning submissions to the prompt, A Mother’s Twisted Love:

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Svclegg and denisejons, I can’t WAIT to present your work on Scribbles on Cocktail Napkins!

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#SSC 11/ May 21- 28th

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For a limited run of six weeks only, the challenge you love is back.

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It starts with a writing prompt issued every Sunday. The responses need only be short and sweet. Or short and scary. Or, short and funny. The point is, the challenge will always require short replies on purpose . . . so YOU have no excuses. Many of the prompts will limit submissions to a simple paragraph. Some, to ONE SENTENCE.

The challenge is meant for writers at every stage–newbies and old hats alike. Writing can be a solitary endeavor; this challenge is specifically designed to lure writers out of their comfort zone for figurative a drink by the water cooler. Participants are encouraged to COMMENT and VOTE on each other’s submissions.

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The prize?

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Each week a challenge winner will be invited to write a GUEST POST on Scribbles on Cocktail Napkins with LINKS to their own work.

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THIS WEEK’S prompt is inspired by last night’s triple birthday celebration with my niece and stepdaughters.

Charlottetown is largely a tourist destination in summer. That means many restaurants in the city are only open from April to October. Last night we went to one of our favorite spots, having recently re-opened after the winter hiatus. My niece ordered a fishbowl, a massive drink with gummy worms swimming along the bottom. Stepdaughter #1 ordered a murky concoction similar to a Mexican Bulldog. Stepdaughter #2 shared a pitcher of Sangria with yours truly. And, in standard form, my husband ordered a beer.

After my niece excused herself to use the washroom we noticed the table was unsteady. She had been leaning on the corner, holding the top in place. Likely, the table had been put together haphazardly after its stint in storage, so I felt around for some screws to tighten underneath.

I didn’t find any screws.

But I did get a giant fistful of spider webs.

And yes, I am an arachnophobe.

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Luckily we had only planned to stay at the restaurant for one drink before moving on. I couldn’t get comfortable after that. Visions of what had become of the building after business had closed for winter ran amok in my mind. Had the interior been completely overrun by spiders? Were they in the floorboards? Were they nesting inside the table legs, waiting to crawl up my pants and into my nose to lay tiny baby spider eggs inside my brain the VERY MOMENT I STOPPED PAYING ATTENTION?

And yes, I am aware these thoughts are slightly outrageous. But, I can’t stop myself from having them. As I said: arachnophobe.

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If you’re waiting on bated breath to find out how the story ended, we successfully moved on to another restaurant. As far as I know, none of us have tiny spider babies developing in our brains. It doesn’t really matter though, because as I write this, I’ve convinced myself I can feel them crawling in my hair.

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So what does this mean in context to your prompt?

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The 11th Sunday Scribble Challenge is all about:

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Your character is trying unsuccessfully to HIDE their PHOBIA.

You have one paragraph to show it.

When the challenge closes on Saturday, May 28th, voters will be asked to select a winner based on the response that resonates best with them.

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RULES:

1. Participants have until Saturday, May 27th at noon, Eastern standard time to post ONE response to the prompt in the comment section of THIS POST.
2. ENCOURAGE other scribblers. Try to comment (reply) to at least three other submissions during the week.
3. After the Saturday deadline, players have a week to VOTE for their favorite submission by emailing: Sundayscribblechallenge@gmail.com. Place the lucky author’s name in the HEADER of your email.
   

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And, as always:

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The responses to last week’s challenge were amazing! Thanks to everyone who participated. The Sunday Scribbles Challenge’s primary focus is helping authors forge connections in the writing community. So, if you decide to dive in to this week’s challenge, please remember to comment (reply) to at least three other entries before voting opens on Saturday, May 27.

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#SSC 10/May 14-20th

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For a limited run of six weeks only, the challenge you love is back!

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It starts with a writing prompt issued every Sunday. The responses need only be short and sweet. Or short and scary. Or, short and funny. The point is, the challenge will always require short replies on purpose . . . so YOU have no excuses. Many of the challenges will limit submissions to a simple paragraph. Some, to ONE SENTENCE.

The challenge is meant for writers at every stage–newbies and old hats alike. Writing can be a solitary endeavor; this challenge is specifically designed to lure writers out of their comfort zone for figurative a drink by the water cooler. Participants are encouraged to COMMENT and VOTE on each other’s submissions.

The prize?

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Each week a challenge winner will be invited to write a GUEST POST on Scribbles on Cocktail Napkins with LINKS to their own work.

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Last year on Mother’s Day, scribblers were challenged to Show a Mother’s Love. This year? We’re going to change things up.

Earlier this week I saw something I can’t get out of my mind. I was in the mall when I heard shouting. A woman was leading a man toward the exit screaming obscenities. At first, I assumed the man to be her husband. In between the open doors she stopped to yell, “You’re fucking useless. You can’t do anything right.” It was raining. The man stopped to place his coffee on the floor so he could zip his coat, and the woman yelled again and kicked it against the wall.

I am a person who doesn’t sit back and watch this kind of thing, for better or worse. My husband knows it all too well.

So, I marched to the exit to stare the woman down, who was likely twice my age. “What’s going on here?”

She stared right back, seething. She motioned to the man between the doors. “That’s my son!”

She said it as if it justified her tirade. She said it as if she expected me to sympathize with her. She said it as if I would understand how she could treat this human being how I wouldn’t treat a dog.

I asked him if he was all right. He was close to middle age, but he couldn’t meet my eye. And then, he apologized. To me. For her.

They left.

It was heartbreaking. It was one of those scenes you watch unfold only to replay twenty times over in your mind.  Since it happened, I thought of a million things I SHOULD have said. I couldn’t believe the man apologized to me.

It led me to think about the lasting impact a mother can have on the psyche of her child. It’s a mother’s job to love; to make her child grow up feeling confident, and prepare them for the world. But sometimes, a mother does the opposite. Sometimes, a mother can raise a child totally unequipped for life outside her door, who is eternally dependent, and who apologetically endures scenes like the one I just witnessed in between the double doors of a mall.

All the things I should have said aside, what does this encounter mean in context to your challenge?

Well, this week on the RETURN of the Sunday Scribble Challenge, your mission is to show:

Your response to the prompt can be as long or short as you like. Do what you have to do. Take any approach you like. Your response could be written in the form of a diary entry, a poem, a random snippet of conversation,  or a simple sentence. Pull some heartstrings. Raise some hair along the back of your reader’s neck. Voters will be asked to select a winner based on the response that resonates best with them.

Take your time. There are five days to ruminate . . .  IF you need them. If you’re stuck, try checking out some of the entries to last year’s challenge! 

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RULES:

1. Participants have until Saturday, May 20th at noon, Eastern standard time to post ONE response to the prompt in the comment section of THIS POST.
2. ENCOURAGE other scribblers. Try to comment (reply) to at least three other submissions during the week.
3. After the Saturday deadline, players have a week to VOTE for their favorite submission by emailing: Sundayscribblechallenge@gmail.com. Place the lucky author’s name in the HEADER of your email.
   

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And, as always:

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Announcing the Return of the SUNDAY SCRIBBLE CHALLENGE!!

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It’s been nearly a year since Scribbles on Cocktail Napkins hosted a Sunday Scribble Challenge. That, friends, is far too long. So, for a limited run of six weeks only, the challenge is back.

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What is a Sunday Scribble Challenge?

It starts with a writing prompt issued every Sunday. The responses need only be short and sweet. Or short and scary. Or, short and funny. The point is, the challenge will always require short replies on purpose . . . so YOU have no excuses. Many of the challenges will limit submissions to a simple paragraph. Some, to ONE SENTENCE. The challenge is meant for writers at every stage–newbies and old hats alike.

It’s something fun to encourage creative juices to flow. But, more than that, it gives participants a chance to reach out to the writing community and interact with peers. Writing can be a solitary endeavor. This challenge is specifically designed to lure writers out of their comfort zone for figurative a drink by the water cooler. Participants are encouraged to COMMENT and VOTE on each other’s submissions.

The prize?

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Each week, the challenge winner is invited to write a guest post on Scribbles on Cocktail Napkins with links to their own work!

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RULES:

1. The prompt will be posted every Sunday: beginning this week, on Sunday May 14th. 
2. Participants have until the following Saturday, May 20th at noon, Eastern standard time to post ONE response to the prompt in the comment section of the post.
3. Encourage other scribblers. Try to comment (reply) to at least three other submissions during the week.
4. After the Saturday deadline, VOTE for your favorite submission by emailing: Sundayscribblechallenge@gmail.com. Place the lucky author’s name in the HEADER of your email.

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This is a repeat endeavor for the blog, but even so, there may be some kinks in the matrix. Feel free to offer suggestions for the challenge in the comment section of THIS POST.

And, just like before:

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Congratulations, Jennifer!

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The winner of the last Scribble Challenge of the season has been named! Jennifer Shelby ROCKED the challenge with an imaginative, downright creepy submission to the prompt, “Your story is being told by an unreliable narrator. In less than fifty words, give your reader a clue he or she may not be telling the whole truth.”

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Jennifer’s winning submission:

“She’s lying,” I said.

The mob murmured and nodded, raising their torches. They set her aflame.

I drooled with desire for the intimate scent of her cooking flesh.

“How’d you know?” someone asked.

I shrugged, keeping my attention on the girl. They grow still just before they’re ready

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Find Jennifer on Google+, Twitter, and her lovely blog, where she posts the most BEAUTIFUL pictures.

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Thank you for participating in the challenge, Jennifer! I am honored to invite you to write the FINAL guest blog of the season. I can’t wait to see what you have in store for our readers.

To all other faithful #SSC participants, keep your eye out for a great new interview with winner Elizabeth Burgess on Writers Off Task with Friends, coming to the channel SOON!

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