Happy Valentine's Day

We have a new project, an event for a day.

To celebrate Valentine's, a game we will play.

Learn a new genre, expanding our range.

Write a new romance, although it feels strange.

 

I'm new to the group and need to impress.

I'll write something clever, with art and finesse.

Valentine’s is hard, writing romance I'm just not that keen.

The event was announced as "just like Halloween."

 

Loophole....

 

I'll write of two specters whose love they must sneak

Or maybe a baddy, whose name, we can't speak.

Something so special, something unique.

I might maybe twist it to be tongue and cheek.

 

But.

 

Alex has vampires snogging with ghosts.

Another has houses with creepy ass hosts.

Rosemary has demons all going to prom.

King has survivors after the bomb.

 

Steph has teen throbs, all horny and drunk.

Helen has cufflinks stashed inside of a trunk.

Colin's got coppers all speaking noir.

Enmon's got agents camped out in their cars.

 

So I thought that a thriller, might be just as great.

Maybe two killers out on a blind date.

But to write a good thriller, I need plot points and beats.

It's all too complex to write but ten sheets.

 

The bullet I bite, a story is written.

My treasure complete, as a writer I'm smitten.

 

Then...

 

I read it out loud and it’s not so --fool--proof.

Not certain what happened, the prose just went poof.

 

After critique, shocked silly and numb.

In the fetal position, sucking my thumb.

My text --a true masterpiece.

Reduced to mere ashes, my lines they did fleece.

 

They are, ever so silent, when says Johnny Bartell

It's an interesting premise, but "Show us don't tell!"

Next comes from Stacey, I listen with dread.

"I like what you've written, but what's in their head?"

 

My killers are meeting in a nice restaurant.

But Brook needs to know, what each character wants!

Leslie looks worried, brow furrowed in thought.

"Your characters good, but you’re missing a plot."

 

I wipe my wet cheeks and start to revise.

I know in my heart, these fuckers are wise.

I kill off my darlings, and rewrite my lines.

Out of ten pages. I keep one in nine.

 

Don’t make it too hard, ease up on the fight.

Think of an audience, who gets how I write.

I've Narrowed my readers, and weathered the storm.

I pen my first line. --Dear penthouse forum


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