I'm back after a jaunt to St. Louis and a bout of illness. I take my writing with me when I go to St. Louis, but I almost never get any work done. I can't concentrate! Plus, my DH was in Manchester, England having a great time at a conference, and I was livid with jealousy. (No, not really. Well, just a little. Maybe.)
Today's post: writing toys. How I love toys! While I am skeptical that using toys can help you write anything truly inspired (that's what your own damn brain is for!) I like messing around with electronic generators. Good for practice.
So, first up is RhymeZone, not actually a toy but a respectable and proper rhyming dictionary which is impressively thorough. The challenge, write a poem using a truly odd collection of rhyming words. Mine: through, peacock blue, taboo, pas de deux, hullabaloo, epoxy glue, blink 182. That poem practically writes itself!
Next, for the truly lazy, the Story Base Online plot tool. Pick a few architypical characters, choose an emotion or conflict, and presto -- a bunch of potential plots.
Finally, an enormous list of writers tools at DMOZ. Some useful stuff, mostly not, but it's fun to sort the wheat from the chaff.
Friday, February 09, 2007
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10 comments:
A rhyme I hope to use someday, to critical acclaim, is Orange to Four inch. Seriously, I misunderstood the word orange once, and have held on to the possibities since then!
(Looking forward to your comments on the SS! no pressure tho)
I used to live with her. she really did like toys. There was a whole box of them under the bed. It was gross.
{Laughing} Now now! Play nice! I always share.
While I'm well aware I should not be allowed to write, Your blog is so much inspiration. Therfore,
ten random Wikipedia entries, RhymeZone, and nothing to do at work for a litle bit...
I was wrong
To Promise
In my postcard
Of Victoria
Endless Steinhager
And fond regard
To Thomas
All day long
Living in Manville
Working in management
A job so gained
By Mesthichetvo
I became her beau
Lyndia was more chained
Rather to a great extent
This, the gin mill
We met in New Jersey
We three, in a game
Drinking large units
of gin from Alaska
Oh Girl, from Itasca
I had to get my mitts
on her and her shame
Thomas, alone, a bitter pea
{blushing}
So, Derlene, um, I'd just like to point out, that, as owner of this Blog, you have the power to delete poetry-I mean comments left by others. I not talking about anything specific. Ya, know, just saying...
"Oh Girl, from Itasca
I had to get my mitts
on her"
How could I delete such elegance, such subtlety, such deft use of language?
Besides, I love it. You used Mesthichetvo in a sentence. What exactly is Mesthichetvo?
Mestnichestvo
From Wikipedia, the free encyclopedia
In Russian history, Mestnichesvo (Russian: Местничество - Mestnichestvo) was a feudal hierarchical system in Russia from 15th till the 17th century. The name comes from "Место" (Mesto - place) in Russian. Mestnichestvo was revolving around a simple principle: the boyar who estimated that his origins were more ancient and his personal services to the tsar more valuable could claim a higher state post. This often led to disputes among nobles about their ancestry and their services to the monarch.
Because of the mestnichestvo, otherwise qualified people who could not boast a sufficiently extended ancestry had no hope of getting an important state post. On the other hand, a boyar from an old and respected families could get an important promotion even if his personal qualities were not up to it.
With the developing Russian absolutism, which central principle was the creation of the central bureaucracy reporting directly to the czar and not spending time fighting each other, the role of the mestnichestvo was progressively reduced. Moreover, increasing defense interests needed the top military posts being occupied by bright officers, not "ancestry-proud
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Народ в таких вот случаях говорит – Ахал бы дядя на себя глядя. :)
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