WeWrWa Presents, "Who Cut the Cheese?"

Weekend Writing Warriors

Check this fun hop out at: 
wewriwa.com

Read as my little friend gets caught in a blame game of Who Cut the Cheese? Bruce Coville said something to the effect that, "In order to be successful in writing for children, you need at least one of five words: fart, poop, burp, butt," and I can't remember the last one. Any suggestions?

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During Social Studies, Slater let out a loud fart then laughed about it. His eyes widened, he slapped his hand over his mouth, and whispered, “Pardon moi.”

Randy waved his hand over his nose and pointed at me. You’d think he’d know I don’t fart, since we’d been in the same class since the third grade. I’d provided enough gas-free space that I could’ve charged admission to have kids sit by my desk for a respite from Randy’s stink.

“Was that your fart or Will’s?” Randy asked Slater, as if he’d never cut the cheese. Even Harrison was ready to blame me for what I’d never done. Well, at least in school. 

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Weekend Writing Warriors, September 6

Weekend Writing Warriors

Another week is beginning, which means it's time to share

 writing snippets at:  http://www.wewriwa.com

Here is the continuation from last week. 

You know a fight is imminent!

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Bryson threw a punch, but I ducked and then body-slammed him into the wall.

            “Way to go, Benito!” The stranger outside the window cheered and clapped.

            I let go of Bryson and stared at the man outside. Is he talking to me? My heart sped up as his bug eyes tore through me.
            “Benito?” Bryson laughed. “Is your name Be-ni-to?

            “No. I’m Ben.” I stared out the window and shook my head as though I could clear away all of my confusing thoughts with a quick shake. "Just Ben." 

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Weekend Writing Warriors 8/31/14

It's time for another Weekend Writing Warriors!

Check out eight line snippets at: http://www.wewriwa.

Here's another snippet from my YA manuscript, BEING BENITO CARLEFFA.

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I swung my backpack over one shoulder and then noticed Bryson shoving Austin. The big guy towered a full foot over little Austin and could have easily fit his victim into one of his pant legs.

“Leave him alone, Bryson.” I stepped close enough to see three blackheads surrounding a red splotch on Bryson’s cheek. He must have picked something open, again.

            Bryson’s chest rose and fell as he curled his hands into tight fists. “Always snooping in other people’s business, aren’t you, tool?”

            “Just looking out for my friend, douche.” 

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Weekend Writing Warriors - 8/24/14

   Weekend Writing Warriors

8/24/14

 

Come join the hop to read an awesome eight from published and unpublished authors at: http://www.wewriwa.

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I know I'd already posted my first eight lines of my manuscript, but I decided on a rewrite as a result of a critiquer's advice. Hopefully this new beginning will jump the reader, agent, or editor into the story sooner.

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       I tried to focus on Ms. Link’s daily review, but it was pointless once I’d spotted the fat guy outside. He had hung under a tree for the past half hour with his bug eyes aimed straight at me, or at least it seemed that way. I rubbed my hand over my stiff neck and noticed that my shoulders had inched upwards. Knowing I had to stop this stalker, I got out of my chair and headed toward the window. Maybe if I closed it, he wouldn’t be able to see inside.

       “Ben, what are you doing?” Ms. Link asked.

       “Sorry, m’am. I was cold. Thought I’d close the window.”

       “I don’t think so,” she sang. “You can’t do that to a menopausal women. I’ll be burning like the steel under Carnegie’s furnaces.”

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