Grab Bag Writing Challenge - January 2019
- advance - better - coarse - draft - edit - happen - improve - motion - raw - rough - struggle - tentative - trend - underway - venture -
by Cody Lewis
"The Quaffle is released and we’re underway!" announced Oliver O’Toole. "That’s Whelan securing it for the Falcons, and pirouetting through two Arrows’ Chasers. He can really move for a big guy!"
"That’s right, Oliver!" Ludo Bagman chimed in. "And I think the league as a whole is trending towards these bigger, stronger Chasers! Guys like Dutch Whelan are just so hard to stop!"
"Whelan ventures into the scoring area and puts it away," Oliver commented as the Chaser slid the Quaffle through the left hoop.
"Rough start for Chrissie Barlow, the young Keeper!" Ludo added. "She’s got a lot of raw talent and she’s really improved a lot this year!"
"Sanders in motion with possession of the Quaffle, but only tentatively as Whelan strips it away and dishes it to Lucas, who slings it through the right goalpost for another score! Falcons lead twenty to nil," said Oliver. "The Arrows are struggling to make anything happen out there."
"Well, the Falcons are just playing better than the Arrows!" Ludo replied. "And it starts with Martin St. Martin, who you might remember was selected first overall in last year's North American League draft by the Haileybury Hammers! He came overseas to play Beater for the Falcons instead, and he’s keeping the hard-hitting Bachmeier at bay, which is allowing his Chasers to advance the Quaffle!"
Oliver nodded in agreement, before adding, "It sounds like Arrows manager Erich Sturm might want to make a few edits to the game plan -- he is shouting some coarse language at his star Beater."
"And I’m pretty sure that’s not German, Oliver!"
"The Quaffle is released and we’re underway!" announced Oliver O’Toole. "That’s Whelan securing it for the Falcons, and pirouetting through two Arrows’ Chasers. He can really move for a big guy!"
"That’s right, Oliver!" Ludo Bagman chimed in. "And I think the league as a whole is trending towards these bigger, stronger Chasers! Guys like Dutch Whelan are just so hard to stop!"
"Whelan ventures into the scoring area and puts it away," Oliver commented as the Chaser slid the Quaffle through the left hoop.
"Rough start for Chrissie Barlow, the young Keeper!" Ludo added. "She’s got a lot of raw talent and she’s really improved a lot this year!"
"Sanders in motion with possession of the Quaffle, but only tentatively as Whelan strips it away and dishes it to Lucas, who slings it through the right goalpost for another score! Falcons lead twenty to nil," said Oliver. "The Arrows are struggling to make anything happen out there."
"Well, the Falcons are just playing better than the Arrows!" Ludo replied. "And it starts with Martin St. Martin, who you might remember was selected first overall in last year's North American League draft by the Haileybury Hammers! He came overseas to play Beater for the Falcons instead, and he’s keeping the hard-hitting Bachmeier at bay, which is allowing his Chasers to advance the Quaffle!"
Oliver nodded in agreement, before adding, "It sounds like Arrows manager Erich Sturm might want to make a few edits to the game plan -- he is shouting some coarse language at his star Beater."
"And I’m pretty sure that’s not German, Oliver!"
by Gail Allen
If she'd known in advance that things would be like this, she would surely have thought better of it and decided to edit the draft she'd been sent, rather than trying to write an entirely new article. But looking at what she had been sent, she had just known that it would be a struggle to improve the raw draft that had landed in her inbox. As an editor you never wanted to have to entirely change something, or even worse, rewrite it, but their deadline was tomorrow and although she hadn't wanted to, she'd thought that creating an entirely new rough draft would be easier than to salvage the mess in front of her.
And it probably would have been. Except that things hadn't happened the way she'd thought they would. Ever since she'd begun typing it seemed like the universe was conspiring to thwart every little ounce of progress she was making. Like it was determined to halt every motion in the document she was working on.
Maybe if she printed it, she thought. Sometimes thoughts happened better with a ball point pen in hand than with a keyboard.
Tentatively she pressed "print" and ventured to the copy room where she cautiously waited, almost expecting the machine to malfunction and spit coarse sandpaper at her rather than a sheet of paper.
Luckily the papers didn't change while they were underway and as she set down in an armchair with a ball point pen, she felt like the trend might be changing: Words were finally getting onto the paper.
If she'd known in advance that things would be like this, she would surely have thought better of it and decided to edit the draft she'd been sent, rather than trying to write an entirely new article. But looking at what she had been sent, she had just known that it would be a struggle to improve the raw draft that had landed in her inbox. As an editor you never wanted to have to entirely change something, or even worse, rewrite it, but their deadline was tomorrow and although she hadn't wanted to, she'd thought that creating an entirely new rough draft would be easier than to salvage the mess in front of her.
And it probably would have been. Except that things hadn't happened the way she'd thought they would. Ever since she'd begun typing it seemed like the universe was conspiring to thwart every little ounce of progress she was making. Like it was determined to halt every motion in the document she was working on.
Maybe if she printed it, she thought. Sometimes thoughts happened better with a ball point pen in hand than with a keyboard.
Tentatively she pressed "print" and ventured to the copy room where she cautiously waited, almost expecting the machine to malfunction and spit coarse sandpaper at her rather than a sheet of paper.
Luckily the papers didn't change while they were underway and as she set down in an armchair with a ball point pen, she felt like the trend might be changing: Words were finally getting onto the paper.
by Maude Rudd
Winter snow blankets the grounds at Hogwarts. When looking out, there are tall fir trees covered in glistening ice from the tip of their tops to the large branches spread out wide near the bases. Every once in a while a HOLer may get to see a rabbit or fox hopping through snow banks below the trees, kicking their back feet out to shake the icy snow from their paws. They will occasionally hide under a heavy branch to get away from the drafty wind.
As many of us sit cozily inside with our house scarfs warming by fireplaces, perhaps in the Great Hall, in our common rooms or even our dorms dreaming of the holiday themed winter feasts in advance, HOLers sit at tables and edit the final copy of their essays for end of term. Excitement buzzes through the air. Sipping on butterbeer will improve the mood and give one giggles if you happen to study too hard.
Take a break when you need to and don’t struggle. Just relax and have fun for the term is near end and many fun things are underway at HOL. Soon the Great Hall, dorms and common rooms will be decorated with bright baubles and filled with colorful holiday cheer. When winter is in full force, don’t get chapped raw from the cold blustery wind outside, if you venture out into the weather, remember the trend to bundle up. Work hard and have fun. Winter is here!
Winter snow blankets the grounds at Hogwarts. When looking out, there are tall fir trees covered in glistening ice from the tip of their tops to the large branches spread out wide near the bases. Every once in a while a HOLer may get to see a rabbit or fox hopping through snow banks below the trees, kicking their back feet out to shake the icy snow from their paws. They will occasionally hide under a heavy branch to get away from the drafty wind.
As many of us sit cozily inside with our house scarfs warming by fireplaces, perhaps in the Great Hall, in our common rooms or even our dorms dreaming of the holiday themed winter feasts in advance, HOLers sit at tables and edit the final copy of their essays for end of term. Excitement buzzes through the air. Sipping on butterbeer will improve the mood and give one giggles if you happen to study too hard.
Take a break when you need to and don’t struggle. Just relax and have fun for the term is near end and many fun things are underway at HOL. Soon the Great Hall, dorms and common rooms will be decorated with bright baubles and filled with colorful holiday cheer. When winter is in full force, don’t get chapped raw from the cold blustery wind outside, if you venture out into the weather, remember the trend to bundle up. Work hard and have fun. Winter is here!
by Maxim Trevelyan
"Ugh, I'll never be able to do it," Maxim groaned as the feather he was practicing on only twitched a little. He had been struggling with the spell for a while now. Advanced Transfiguration was never Maxim's forte. The feather was supposed to resemble a fern frond, but it was obviously not happening.
"Not with that attitude, you won't," Gary commented from Maxim's right, already underway with the theoretical part of the Transfiguration assignment with a coarse, green plant laying innocently beside his parchment.
Maxim mimed Gary's words back to him and gave up on the practical part. He took a blank piece of parchment and started on the draft for the assignment. The blond wondered if he could persuade his friend to edit his essay for him. Maxim was rubbish at more nuanced ways of grammar and spelling.
After ten minutes of silence, Gary sighed and murmured to himself, "I'm too nice." He put down his parchment and motioned at Maxim. "Your wand work is too rough," Gary explained and picked up his wand. He glided it over the feather and said the incantation. The feather transformed into a fern.
Maxim tentatively took his wand and repeated Gary's motions. The feather shook again, but it took on a slight green hue. A surprised chuckle escaped Maxim's body as he repeated the motions again with an incantation. Feather finally turned completely green and more solid. Maxim ran his fingers over the raw surface. It was better, but not perfect. He liked this trend of things going his way for once.
"See, you improved," Gary grinned at Maxim's excited fist pump. "If you venture onto this path of growth, we'll have you a Master of Transfiguration in no time," he teased and ducked a pillow that Maxim threw his way.
"Ugh, I'll never be able to do it," Maxim groaned as the feather he was practicing on only twitched a little. He had been struggling with the spell for a while now. Advanced Transfiguration was never Maxim's forte. The feather was supposed to resemble a fern frond, but it was obviously not happening.
"Not with that attitude, you won't," Gary commented from Maxim's right, already underway with the theoretical part of the Transfiguration assignment with a coarse, green plant laying innocently beside his parchment.
Maxim mimed Gary's words back to him and gave up on the practical part. He took a blank piece of parchment and started on the draft for the assignment. The blond wondered if he could persuade his friend to edit his essay for him. Maxim was rubbish at more nuanced ways of grammar and spelling.
After ten minutes of silence, Gary sighed and murmured to himself, "I'm too nice." He put down his parchment and motioned at Maxim. "Your wand work is too rough," Gary explained and picked up his wand. He glided it over the feather and said the incantation. The feather transformed into a fern.
Maxim tentatively took his wand and repeated Gary's motions. The feather shook again, but it took on a slight green hue. A surprised chuckle escaped Maxim's body as he repeated the motions again with an incantation. Feather finally turned completely green and more solid. Maxim ran his fingers over the raw surface. It was better, but not perfect. He liked this trend of things going his way for once.
"See, you improved," Gary grinned at Maxim's excited fist pump. "If you venture onto this path of growth, we'll have you a Master of Transfiguration in no time," he teased and ducked a pillow that Maxim threw his way.
by Prof. Tarma Amelia Black
The advancing wildebeest looked around, then came closer. I held out my hand with the salt on my palm, palm arched so that she could more easily lick the salt. The coarse bristles, or whatever they are, tickled with the slow, and tentative swipes of her tongue. I held as still as I could.
"Hi Maisie. You feeling better today?"
She seemed better; her eyes were clear and the raw and jagged cut on her neck almost healed.
I thought, "What would have happened if we'd not seen her laying in the rough grasses off to the side of the road?" She was tiny, just a calf, but it was still a struggle to put her into our rig. We didn't want her to die, and die she would if left out in the open. We could hear the predators growling and snarling. We were maybe being foolish, but in she went and we were underway to our enclosure, where she might have a chance to live. Already she'd improved immensely, to where she was gamboling around, her limbs moving freely and her forward motion undeterred by lingering injuries.
I wrote another draft of my letter to my boss, then edited it, taking out the words that he would strike out anyway. I closed the whole thing with:
"The venture that you want is well underway. Although there appears to be a trend in the market for xyogdter fur, I think that you will find that said trend will slacken and disappear, especially once the general populace find out that xyogdter is an endangered species.
Sincerely and in thanks for the 20 pounds of salt,
Tarma"
The advancing wildebeest looked around, then came closer. I held out my hand with the salt on my palm, palm arched so that she could more easily lick the salt. The coarse bristles, or whatever they are, tickled with the slow, and tentative swipes of her tongue. I held as still as I could.
"Hi Maisie. You feeling better today?"
She seemed better; her eyes were clear and the raw and jagged cut on her neck almost healed.
I thought, "What would have happened if we'd not seen her laying in the rough grasses off to the side of the road?" She was tiny, just a calf, but it was still a struggle to put her into our rig. We didn't want her to die, and die she would if left out in the open. We could hear the predators growling and snarling. We were maybe being foolish, but in she went and we were underway to our enclosure, where she might have a chance to live. Already she'd improved immensely, to where she was gamboling around, her limbs moving freely and her forward motion undeterred by lingering injuries.
I wrote another draft of my letter to my boss, then edited it, taking out the words that he would strike out anyway. I closed the whole thing with:
"The venture that you want is well underway. Although there appears to be a trend in the market for xyogdter fur, I think that you will find that said trend will slacken and disappear, especially once the general populace find out that xyogdter is an endangered species.
Sincerely and in thanks for the 20 pounds of salt,
Tarma"
by Shadow Gaunt
"You disgust me."
Narrowing my eyes, I quickly advanced towards Marie.
"You are a monster," she continued speaking, her back still to the window, "You are no longer the same boy that I knew as a young girl."
With a rough motion she turned to me. I leapt back, startled. "What happened, Pierre? What?"
I stepped to her, "You dare? You are the monster, not me. You destroyed my life, my family, my livelihood. All for what? For what?"
"STOP!" Mr. McCormick yelled.
Denise and I, somewhat grateful for the interruption, sat down on the stage.
"What is this? This is trash. We have practiced this scene over and over again. Alex, where is the raw, coarse emotion you show to Marie? There has to be a struggle of something inside you. Come on Alex, I know you can do better than this."
I sighed, and was about to defend myself, but McCormick was already going on about Denise. "Denise. I know you can improve your performance. Here he is, the boy you hate. He left for the draft and now he's back. WITH HONOR. You are in disbelief. You have to be cold, yet tentative. Perhaps he isn't so bad after all. SHOW THAT."
Denise could barely nod. We were both so exhausted, on the second to last day of rehearsal.
McCormick, seeing us, sighed and said, "Oh well, come on you two. Rest for a bit and we’ll do this again."
We ventured to the band room where most of the actors were relaxing. With one ear I hear Sam say, "Honestly, I think this new trend of…" Denise and I continued to walk to our corner.
"So," I say to Denise, "How’s the editing of the story going?"
"It will be underway after Halloween."
"You disgust me."
Narrowing my eyes, I quickly advanced towards Marie.
"You are a monster," she continued speaking, her back still to the window, "You are no longer the same boy that I knew as a young girl."
With a rough motion she turned to me. I leapt back, startled. "What happened, Pierre? What?"
I stepped to her, "You dare? You are the monster, not me. You destroyed my life, my family, my livelihood. All for what? For what?"
"STOP!" Mr. McCormick yelled.
Denise and I, somewhat grateful for the interruption, sat down on the stage.
"What is this? This is trash. We have practiced this scene over and over again. Alex, where is the raw, coarse emotion you show to Marie? There has to be a struggle of something inside you. Come on Alex, I know you can do better than this."
I sighed, and was about to defend myself, but McCormick was already going on about Denise. "Denise. I know you can improve your performance. Here he is, the boy you hate. He left for the draft and now he's back. WITH HONOR. You are in disbelief. You have to be cold, yet tentative. Perhaps he isn't so bad after all. SHOW THAT."
Denise could barely nod. We were both so exhausted, on the second to last day of rehearsal.
McCormick, seeing us, sighed and said, "Oh well, come on you two. Rest for a bit and we’ll do this again."
We ventured to the band room where most of the actors were relaxing. With one ear I hear Sam say, "Honestly, I think this new trend of…" Denise and I continued to walk to our corner.
"So," I say to Denise, "How’s the editing of the story going?"
"It will be underway after Halloween."