Monday
am: sojourn
pm: wastrel
Tuesday
am: peccadillo
pm: visage
Wednesday
am: deus ex machina
pm: busker
Thursday
am: alpenglow
pm: maelstrom
Friday
am: pettifog
pm: dotage
Come join us in Second Life® or work from home at 6am PST & 6pm PST for 15 minutes of writing inspired by the word.
Please feel free to add your dash pieces to the comments section of this blog post below.
FAQs
I found #dailydash/#writersdash on Twitter, what is it?
The Writers’ Dash (#writersdash or #dailydash on Twitter) is a 15-minute free writing exercise held on Twitter, Facebook and Second Life® every weekday. At 5:30am & 5:30pm PDT we share the word prompt on our social media channels; the live event begins in Second Life® at 6am & 6pm PDT. Write whatever comes to you. Don’t fixate too heavily on what you are writing and disengage your inner editor – the key is for you to get the words on the page first; you can worry about editing later. If you are attending the live event in Second Life® there will be an opportunity for you to show your work to the other participants after the 15 minutes are up. If you are unable to attend the live event you can share your work on our blog. Just look out for the prompt post and leave your dash piece as a comment.
Do I have to do the Writers’ Dash in Second Life®?
No, you can do it at home, if you prefer. We share the prompt word at 5:30am & 5:30pm PDT on Twitter and Facebook and start the timer in Second Life® at 6am/6pm PDT every weekday.
How do I join the live event in Second Life®?
You will first need to join Second Life® through the Second Life® website. Go to http://www.secondlife.com to start the process. It’s free to join.
Click on the JOIN NOW button and this will take you to the Registration screen. Here you simply fill in your personal details and choose a name and look for your avatar. Don’t worry too much about your avatar’s appearance as there will be plenty of opportunity to tweak it once you are inworld.
Once you have completed your Registration, you’ll be asked to download and install the Second Life® viewer to your computer. You will then be taken to a screen that allows you to choose which community gateway to enter. This is important as we want you to go through as smooth a transition as possible. Please choose the Caledon (Victorian Steampunk) Community Gateway. Once you have chosen the gateway you will find yourself appearing inworld at the University of Oxbridge in Caledon. Now begins your brief induction.
Follow the signs and read the information boards as you come to them. There is also a brief Second Life® tutorial provided on screen. Try and absorb as much information as possible but be mindful that you can always return to Caledon at a later date if there is something you feel you missed. At the very least try and understand the most important concepts such as how to move, how to talk and your camera controls.
Once you have completed the Orientation Tutorial you will need to find your way to Milk Wood. This is the sim that is home to Virtual Writers, Inc. At the bottom of your screen you will see a search tab. Click on this and look for Milk Wood. Now the teleporting fun begins. Click on ‘Teleport’ and you will be moved from your present location to our welcome area. Make sure you save the landmark so that you can easily return there.
We look forward to meeting you at one of our various daily writing events. Don’t forget to click on one of the group joiners so you can stay abreast of happenings in the writing community. You can also join Virtual Writers, Inc. through the search facility. Simply put Virtual Writers, Inc. under group search, click on the group name to bring up the profile screen. Then click ‘View Full Profile’ followed by ‘Join’.
About Virtual Writers, Inc.
Virtual Writers, Inc. is a free online writers’ community first established in 2007 and committed to showcasing established and emerging writers in a range of interactive and immersive environments. Here we learn to experiment with digital, social and virtual world platforms to push the creative envelope and develop a strong, unique voice.
We provide a wealth of opportunities for writers to meet other writers, share resources, access new markets, attend online writing events, workshops and interactive readings, and discover the best writers’ conferences, competitions, colonies and literary organisations.
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Whether you are dashing in Second Life®, on Twitter or Facebook we welcome your dashes in the comments section below.
Sjourn
.
When you read the definitions for “sojourn” in the dictionary,
the meaning indicates a leisurely, relaxing experience.
.
However the two people I knew by the name of Sojourner
led anything but easy, unhurried lives.
.
Sojourner Truth was a small black woman,
with great courage, adept at disguises,
who led hundreds of slaves along the Underground Railroad
to freedom in the Northern States.
.
Dangers along the way included
thugs searching for her specifically
and generally for runaway slaves.
Sneaking across farmlands, through forests and creeks,
at night posed other dangers.
.
Finding places to hide out during the day was risky.
Were the Safe Houses or hiding places still reliably safe?
.
She persued what she considered her Mission
for many, many years.
.
The Sojourner in Second Life developed a site and activities
for people with physical and mental challenges.
The Dreams sims became a place
to take lessons on doing things in a virtual world–
building, making clothes, even scripting–
and was open to absolutely everyone.
.
She established regular meetings for people dealing with
strokes, ADDHD, depression, arthritis, and so many other challenges.
The Dreams stims continue to offer support and friendship
to all who come there.
.
The Sojourner was a stroke survivor herself.
Unfortunately, she passed away from a massive stroke not long ago.
Those who worked with her have carried on what she started.
.
It’s the courage, determination, and desire to benefit people
that have drawn people to both Sojourners.
.
Franja Russell 100-15-2012
Sojourn
This is the end of my sojourn.
I seek comfort
In leaving and finding anew,
I seek eternity.
My quest never ending,
My path ahead.
Let my sojourn commence.
©2012 Lizzie Gudkov
Sorry I’ve been missing the Dashes so much lately. Here’s one for ‘wasterel.’
Ash slowly settled over the last exposed rooftops. The dark gray “snow” had been falling for three days, since the great mountain south of the city had exploded. Life, Tennias thought, is a wastrel. Spending prolifically of itself, convinced that no matter how much it destroys it can always rebuild.
“I suppose you’re thinking sad, poetical thoughts about the meaning of life and other such frummery.” Alexson didn’t look like a man with much use for poetry. His dark hair, flecked with gray from the falling ash, was cut short on top and around the sides, but grew long in the back, pulled into a warrior’s braid. His leathers, equally dark, were worn and travel stained. The bow at his back and long dagger at his side had also seen use hard.
Tennias happened to know that Alexson’s last book of poetry, published under a suitably flowery pseudonym, was a favorite in the court of Ulim. “Better frummery than brooding, my friend,” Tennias replied, “I don’t much like the taste of failure.”
Alexson shrugged, and began picking his way down the hill. “You know it was hopeless when you signed on. Toughen up.”
Tennias followed him quickly enough, “Yes, yes. You said it often enough. Let’s get somewhere we can pitch the tent and I’ll cast the bones. I’d much prefer to reach our next assignment in time to actually do some good this time.”
Somehow, Alexson suspected the gods would not pay much attention to that wish.
Peccadillo
.
“What I told you was just a peccadillo.” Roger said.
She looked steadily at him, her heart turning to lead.
.
“Stop staring at me.” he hissed as his face turned red.
.
Slowly she turned her head.
Her heart filled with dread.
.
“Another hope dead.” whispered a voice in her head.
.
Slowly she left him buttering his bread.
.
Franja Russell 10-16-2012
Peccadillo
Look at me now
former bishop, how,
could they deny my staff
a shame don’t make me laugh
what did I do wrong ?
worked for God sung his song
prayed for the sinners
and the spinners
gave to the poor
forgave the whore
I taught the children about the Lord
I enjoyed their fuzzy chord
let the children come to me
so He said, and I agree
I made a little mistake
so now and then, I don’t fake
I had some extended friendships, yes
they accuse me, but its so long ago and I didn’t make a mess
cause the kids agreed and they were eager to learn
a peccadillo, do I really need to burn ?
St Matthew would bind a millstone around my neck
but I confessed for God himself, so, what the heck ?
and untill now I just don’t see all the buzz
part of those little boys really did come, so wht’s the fuzz
Goodie
Smoke rose from the cast iron fire into the plastered roof filling the small kitchen with filtered light. The cat yawned over onto her back cracking static and branches in the dark of the little hut. Maria stood with soft belly against the rustic table crude bowl under her arm wooden spoon stirring the creamy mixture vigorously her whole body shaking as she stirred.
“Can I taste now?” Francesca leaned in over Maria’s shoulder to look and smell..and “taste..?”
“No! There will be none for the cake.” Francesca pouted, slinking off to pet the cat keeping her eye on the bowl and the spoon, grated lemon peel, a drop of vanilla, a little extra sugar, smoothened over the sumptuous cooled white cake bursting taste buds tingling in her mouth.
The phone rang, heavy black bakelite pealing through the smoky air. Maria wiped her hands on her pinafore moving steady to the hall, to answer…”Hello?”
Francesca leapt up dislodging the cat from it’s blissful rest in her lap. A quick glance to the door and her forefinger lashed out into the frosting scooping a heaped dollop of lemony cream into her mouth and lips lost between heaven and heavenly peccadillo.
Peccadillo
The clear icy surface of the river yawned in a thin tread of small waves. As they approached the clearing, the fog lifted and the birds hushed into a stifling silence. The water was off-limits, but they went nevertheless. It was fun to break the rules and search for the bubbles, they thought. They sloshed their hands in the water and grabbed a few. Shining, bobbing aimlessly, blue, brown, black, green, almost collectable, these spheres were magical. But it was impossible to keep them, they would shrivel and decay. So, seeing them in the clear icy water made it easy to forget that this was where the humans were left to die. The clear icy surface of the river yawned in a thin tread of small waves as they returned home thinking about their adventurous little dark secrets.
©2012 Lizzie Gudkov
deus ex machina
.
Over many years of paying attention to politics–
local, state, national, and international–
I’ve observed “deus ex machina” many times.
.
A Candidate invites an Elder Statesman
to appear with him at a rally,
or a function where the Press will be present.
.
An Elder Statesman attends a social function
where “there just happen to be movers and shakers”.
He makes positive statements about a Candidate.
Sometimes he makes negative statements
about a political figure or issue.
.
An Elder Statesman sometimes visits a disaster site,
calling attention to what needs to be done to help.
Sometimes they appear at places that help people,
bringing attention to their projects
and suggest ways we can support them.
.
These aren’t examples of Gods deigning to come to Earth
to rescue us mere mortals.
.
But too often Political Big Wigs seem to think of themselves
as mighty as Gods of ancient days.
.
Franja Russell (10-17-2012
Deus ex machina
With his balloon
he touched the stars
almost
feeling God
for a minute
heart raging with anxiety
short breathed
hesitating, dodder or leap ?
falling
trying to embrace the earth
following the parabolic lines of Newton’s first law
velocity gaining velocity
seeing the earth nearing at a steady fastening dazzling pace
but the air is thin
he caught a spin
another law came into play
atoms hardly listen to laws
they just sillyways collide aggressively with the dizzying astronauts body
slowing him down
dissipating energy into heat
air atoms hunted by that almost fainted human projectile
build up in front
getting excited
hush, hush, Brownian motion
in a flush
denser
heated
atoms not able to evade
energy build up
physical laws
cannot hold anymore
very nature itself trying to find a solution
for a function with multiple results
and with a giant bang
deals with theoretical discontinuities
sound wall broken
one pivoting being almost fainted
downward force in equilibrium with friction force
equals constant velocity
with his last grains of power
he tries the denser air
to steer out of his revolving summersault
no relief
no control
scared
alone
anxious
prays
pulling out
pulling his parachute out
the world record exchanged for his life
a bargain
Goodie
Woody gnarled his fingers through what was left of his hair staring at the tangled threads of his plot frayed at the edges.
“How in the love of Hera I am going to tie all these together?..” he gestured to the screen with one hand while shoving up his glasses with the other. The hour was almost up and the crew was waiting for this final draft.
“What?…What…? What is it now!?” The feminine voice behind him was silky, mature… whinny with a touch of Brooklyn. He spun round in his chair only to face a spectacular vision, a goddess draped in, well, drapes clutching them to her body, magnificent milky breasts spilling, caught, escaping again as she struggled to keep them covered.
“No, no, what are you doing in ….?.Who are you…..You one of the new actors round here?” Woody’s face and voice were a mixture of sexual bewilderment and admiration.
“It’s me Hera. I don’t know why you keep doing this! Don’t you think me and Zeus got nothing else to do but keep saving you guys writers asses all the time?”
“Oh you mean……uh.. uh….. Deus ex Machina..yes..?” Woody’s head bobbed as he said ‘yes’ grinning like a kid who just managed to pick an apple from the golden bough. ” I guess, I mean it’s not like I’m the first one to do it, right? Shakespeare, Euripides Andrew Foster Altschul …”
“Give it over…no more..you gotta handle it yourself from now on K?”
“Well maybe you and I could, we could talk about that a little.” Woody was reluctant, to say the least, of letting this beauty go no matter how crazy she was.
Just then there was a bolt of lightning, rumble of thunder and Zeus descended into the room.
“Hera honey, you gonna leave me waiting..? I got nymphs crawling all over the place up there begging for some loving too Bebe…common..”
Woody stared stunned at Zeus’s pleading arousal then looked a little pathetically down at his own form, slowly he looked back up with a hapless little grin. “I don’t suppose you could do anything about …well…my physic?”
“Hera slipped an arm around Woody’s shoulders and gave him a little kiss on the cheek. She leaned back and looked at him with a sweet grin…”Naaaaa…..Zeus is a God sweetie, not a miracle worker.”
© Tephi Zepp
10/17/2012
Dash Word: Deus ex Machina
Melissa was peeling potatoes between juggling pots and checking the pot roast in the oven. A litte boy of about 6 pushed open the side door and sauntered in carrying a turtle. “Mom..can I keep him.”
‘Keep who?” asked his mom squinting at the blast of heat from the open oven.
“Mr. Turtle.”
“Sure Luke.” She answered thinking he was talking about one of the ninjas.
Luke happily hugged the turtle and went into the hall shouting to his mom..”Can I put Mr. Turtle in the bath tub?”
“No” She answered firmly imagining the water overflowing from the tub and leaking floods through the celling.
“Can I put him in the sink?”
“Which sin….?” She cut off her thoughts of when sink to allow him play in by clanging the lid on the potatoes…’No Luke it is late, don’t bother mommy when she is making dinner.”
Luke turned around and went back to the side door opening it up. “How late is it?”
‘Owww… Luke, late!”
‘How late?
Melissa Opened the freezer took out the frozen block of spinach.“Dinner time late”
“When do we have dinner?”
Her fingers pushed five zero zero on the micro and she shut the door.”Dinner time”
“When is dinner time?”
Melissa sighed trying to be patient as she turned and leaned over to open the dishwasher to get out the warm plates.. “Luke! When the sun goes down in the west, that’s when.”
Luke looked out the door. ‘What’s west”
His mother looked up and gave a yelp pointing to the turtle. “What is that? Put it out at once!” The plate was hot in her hand “ouch ouch” and she hopped it in her hands as she looked round for a place to safety put it down.
Luke pouted and looked outside in the garden. He saw the sky fiery orange. “Will I put him out where the sun is mom?”
“Yes Luke.” Melissa cursed under her breath shaking her hand trying to cool the glowing burn on her fingertips.
Luke stepped out of the door. “No Luke the sun sets around the front of the house, go let him out – out there.” Melissa pointed towards the front door with the now slightly red fingertip.
“But the sky is all orange out the back mom ” Mellisa frowned moving over to the window. He must be thinking of the alpenglow that happens this time of day. Outside rising above the trees was a glow of intense orange, billowing smoke towering up into the sky while savage flames licked the rows of blackened trees behind the house.
“Mr Sun fell into the forest mommy”
Mellisa screamed racing to grab Luke who was still clutching Mr. Turtle. “Oh God where are the keys, the keys..Luke get into the car..get into the car!”
Malestrom
.
Where do I begin to make sense of all this?
So many things are happening in too little time.
Where does any one event begin?
How are some of these happenings tied together?
Who besides those I hear and see are part of a circumstance?
Why do people and plans keep changing?
How do I catch up on everything I don’t know?
How can I make good decisions without sufficient information?
Who’s pulling strings without my knowing it?
.
Breathe Girl. Take a deep breath. Exhale slowly.
Do it again.
Answers don’t come when your mind’s tangled.
.
Franja Russell 10-18-2012
Petifog
.
“Hi Jenny. How’s the Advanced English Literature class going?” asked Ruth.
.
“Ok, I guess,” replied Jenny. “There’s a lot of vocabulary we don’t use these days, maybe even never used here. I have to keep a sheet with words and meanings right next to me.”
.
“Oh, like what?” said Ruth.
.
“Here’s one from today–petifog.” Jenny said as her face changed to puzzlement. ‘Petifog’ ” Jenny said, pronouncing the word carefully.
.
Ruth’s face wrinkled. “Peti-frog? A small frog?”
.
“No, P-E-T-I-F-O-G” Jenny spelled out the word.
.
“Is it a weather condition, like partly cloudy, but it’s partly foggy?” asked Ruth.
.
“No, not even close.” Jenny answered with a smile. “It means arguing about unimportant stuff, or being an unethical Lawyer, or any kind of trickery.”
.
“Wow!” whispered Ruth. “I’m glad I don’t have to mess with that. It’s all I can do to get through the regular Literature class. Good luck Jenny. ”
.
“Thanks Ruth.” Jenny smiled. “I’d better get back to my Literature assignment. I’ll see you at Lunchtime.”
.
“Right.” Ruth said with an encouraging smile. “Good Luck.”
.
The girls parted, each heading for what she needed to do.
.
Franja Russell 10-19-2012
Alpenglow
This day pushes
to its end, and you must
leave — for now
my hand, in yours
we find the path along the shore.
the alpenglow throws
its light on the mountains,
reaching up from the sea,
gently kisses
the rusted barges and tugs–
cloudy crimson,
gauzy light
casts its glow–
magnifying you, and me
we are real
in this moment,
in this moment
I am yours, and then we
fade
into dusk and night.
Oct. 18, 2012
Jullianna Juliesse
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pecadillo,
…
A strong, charismatic caudillo
displayed only one peccadillo:
this mustachioed charmer
dashed about in full armour
day and night, so was called Armadillo.
…
and
…
I toss and turn all night and fight my pillow
tormented by some fancied peccadillo
while gazing up into the starry vault
but looking deep within and finding fault
my mind imprisoned in a fortress fast
unable to escape and view the vast
bright universe that is itself the key
for freeing petty prisoners like me.
…
busker
…
The Busker and the Carnie
You can’t do that here
she said
you’ll have to move along.
He said
I just need bus fare.
let me play just one more song.
Take this and go downtown
she said
and try your luck down there.
He said
they told me move along.
I thought I’d try the fair.
He took her dollar anyway
he said
I guess I suck
She said
my boss said make you leave.
Get out of here—good luck.
I’ll write a song for you
he said
if you’ll just let me stay.
But she said, you can’t stay
and she said, go away
I got kids to feed and I need my pay.
Step up and try your hand
she said
just three hits wins a prize
He said
nobody ever wins.
What do they pay you guys?
Take home a teddy bear
she said
step right up boys and girls.
He said
I like your crazy hair.
I like the way it curls.
Don’t give me your old line
she said
just save if for your song
He said
I’d leave this minute if
you’d like to come along.
Oh, shit, here comes my boss
she said
For fuck’s sake, have the grace—
So he clasped his case
and went from that place
and while Whack-a-Mole slammed she thought of his face.
The ferris wheel went dark
that night
the fairgrounds crowd dispersed.
That night
she put her kids to bed
then thought of him and cursed
He didn’t make his fare
that night—
got stuck there in that town
That night
the sidewalks rolled up cold
and he slept on the ground.
They didn’t get much sleep
that night.
Apart they tossed and turned.
That night
they dreamed the same dream
and together how they burned.
They both dreamed of the road
that night
but this road had a shine
like the next morning’s light
put an end to the night
brought the kids along, sang the new song, and rode the bus out of sight.
…
alpenglow
…
the alpenglow upon our skin
the little whiskers on his chin
the things we did and didn’t do—
remembering a boy I knew
…
we climbed the highest I had been
the alpenglow upon our skin
the nearest trees below us small—
years later I can still recall
…
it seemed a moment out of time
years later it shows up in rhyme
the alpenglow upon our skin—
the kiss felt fine and seemed a sin
…
so when we joined the rest below
in swiftly fading alpenglow
we acted like it hadn’t been—
the alpenglow upon our skin
…
maelstrom
…
Caught up in the maelstrom is where she loved to be.
If there was a hurricane, she would find the eye.
In gale force winds she set sail for open sea.
That’s where she was headed when we said our last goodbye.
…
Some guy said he saw her with Katrina in New Orleans.
Then I heard she left to see tsunamis in Japan.
That’s the place I figure that she must have lost her mooring.
She loved to ride a tempest better than any man.
…
She was a storm chaser, little sister
and the wind must have blown her out of reach
She was a storm chaser, she couldn’t sit still, mister
but I still hope she’ll wash up on the beach.
…
Mama gave up watching Weather Channel for her face.
Daddy doesn’t search for storm warnings any more.
I still go to the lifeguard hut, it’s a nice quiet place
to sit and watch the empty, quiet shore.
…
Maybe as a baby she was dropped one time too many:
Rocked to sleep with turbulence and earthquake lullabies.
At quiet time in kindergarten she wasn’t having any.
I hope to hear her raise some hell again before she dies.
…
She was a storm chaser, little sister
and the wind must have blown her out of reach
She was a storm chaser, she couldn’t sit still, mister
but I still hope she’ll wash up on the beach.
…
pettifog
…
The prosecution, in periwig, peering over fogged bifocals, proceeded to pettifog. In peregrinations past pondering, he propounded the prisoner’s unpardonable past, impossible personality and petty criminal predilections. In short, the prosecutor’s hypotheses were prejudicial.
…
The defender, dipping his democratically downy dome in deference to the distinguished dignitaries, declaimed decorously on the defendant’s decency, deferring to deal directly with divisive evidence or derisive documents, then demanded deliberation. In short, the defense declined to defend.
…
The judge and jury in a gesture of genuine judicial genius, gently granted guilt and gallows.
…
The accused acquiesced.
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