a podcast about writing, work, and friendship
In Episode 34, we share our responses to the April writing prompt — not an easy one for us! We also share some writing therapy our segment Everything is Terrible/What’s Working Now, and Olivia has a fun revision breakthrough. The episode concludes with the May writing prompt, so respondez sil vous plait. We’d love to read what you come up with. Get the show notes and listen here, or wherever you get your podcasts.
As promised last week, we’re posting our responses to November’s writing prompt, with comments. The rules are short — note something positive, and make sure suggestions for improvement are constructive. Simply put, don’t be mean.
So here’s Olivia’s response, and my comments below. Remember, these are first drafts written in 15 minutes or so, not polished submission-ready material (although I was super impressed with Olivia’s). My response and Olivia’s comments are here.
Grace froze when she heard the knock on the door. One arm was outstretched, her hand grasping the hairy-barked pine log she had been feeding into the dark mouth of the fireplace. She was glad she hadn’t lit the fire yet. She propped herself up on the other elbow.
The knock came again, harsher this time. Impatient. It knew she was inside.
Both of her arms were starting to shake. She ease the wood onto the sooty stone hearth, silently, then dragged herself across the floor. Her thick skirts picked up twigs, beetle carcasses and small clumps of mud, leaving a clean-swept trail behind her.
Another knock. Not even waiting to listen.
As she moved, she searched the sparse room again, pointlessly scanning the dusty surfaces for a girl-sized crevice. Even the kitchen had only shelves, no cupboards.
The metal latch clicked but did not give itself up. And so the cheap door began rattling in its frame, asking for entry at first, then demanding it. Fierce.
She pulled herself up onto the austere wooden chair behind the door, arranging herself into her most natural position. This always took time, otherwise something about her angles were wrong. Gave her away immediately.
But she didn’t have time. Her leg dangled awkwardly as the door gave way. A panting bearded man swept in, blue moonlight and frost swinging in on his cape.
And the comments:
Did you write something for this prompt you’d like to share? Email us, or leave it in the comments!
Happy Thanksgiving week to those in or from the United States, and happy penultimate day of November to everyone else. We’re so grateful for each and every one of you!
This week, we give some podcast recommendations in response to a listener question, and we do a mini-critique session for this month’s writing prompt. Then we wrap up with nine tips for surviving Thanksgiving (or any busy or disruptive period). Watch this space for the full set of tips later this week, as well as our writing prompt responses.
Click over here for the full show notes, and as always, you can get Marginally on iTunes, Stitcher, Google Play, or wherever get your podcasts.
“Have a seat.” Gareth turned away from the window and waved towards a chair in front of his desk.
I squeezed past the desk and settled between the chipped maple arms, onto the seat made of worn office-blue fabric with tiny pink dots. He pulled the tall leather chair back from his desk and sat, gazing patiently at me from a chair set at considerable height. I felt like I was visiting the principal’s office, seven years old, sulking in cheap mass-produced furniture.
“I made some calls.”
“What did they say? Will he live?”
Gareth shook his head, almost shrugged. “They still don’t know.”
We sat for a few seconds in empty quiet. I let the image of Igor, surrounded by doctors, sink in.
“But he’s in London?”
Gareth nodded, his eyes betraying a feint surprise – perhaps that I was still there.
“Getting the best care, at least.” My words felt flippant, revealing how much I wanted to pretend that everything was okay.
“Anna, I think you should go –” he glanced around the room, pausing deliberately “– on the business trip. That we planned.”
“We – um, did?”
“The meetings in London?” He nodded, eyebrows raised.
I frowned, shook my head, then belatedly noticed the way he’d left spaces between the phrases, like signs in the words, to lead me through the conversation.
“You have two days. After that, I can’t guarantee anything.” He pulled open the drawer, pulled out a folded piece of paper.
“It’s your ticket.”
I smiled at the ink-jet-printed page, with its black and white Russian airline logo. As if nothing on the internet was real unless it was transferred to paper.
Remember, this is really draft and we haven’t particularly edited it – we wanted to be genuine with you! This is a great way to realize that everything can be revised, that each comment isn’t a way to say you can’t write something, but just a suggestion for how to make it better in the next draft.
We’d love to hear your responses — send them to us and let us know if you’d like them to be featured on the show.
“Roz.” Margot beckoned from the doorway of her office. Her face was blank – for me, or for my coworkers’ benefit, I couldn’t tell. I unhooked from the network and stood.I waited in front of Margot’s desk while she closed the blinds on both the office-facing window and the one that overlooked the street outside. Margot shut the door.“There’s been a mistake,” she said. Then she disappeared.Just — gone. I ran over to her desk and looked behind it, frantic. I crawled on the floor — maybe she was hiding under the desk — but she wasn’t there. There was no sign of her, nothing left behind, except me.Sweat rolled down my sides from under my arms, and I sat back against the gray steel cabinet in the corner to think. No one could know. I had to get out, fast.The handle of the cabinet dug between my shoulder blades and I turned. The drawer wasn’t closed all the way. Something [[i don’t know what – I haven’t figured that out yet]] was wedged inside. I pulled it out and slipped it in my waistband.With one last look, I slipped out of the door. “Thanks, Margot,” I said as I closed it. “Yep, I’ll take care of that.”I couldn’t leave right away – I needed to know if Margot’s absence was discovered, and I couldn’t look suspicious. I needn’t have worried. The afternoon crawled by and by the time I left, I was a wreck. I hadn’t done a thing, unable to face connecting again in case someone was able to read what had happened, and I had no idea how I could find out about the [[[whatever thing]]] I had found without being tracked.As soon as I got home, I checked both rooms in my apartment, every cupboard, every corner.
But overall, we really enjoyed this process – although it was scary – and we look forward to hearing from you all.
In episode 8, we do something super scary — we share our responses to this month’s writing prompt, and have a mini-critique session.
If you want in on the fun, send us yours here, or post in the comments! We’d love to hear what you came up with. We talk at the end of the episode about how useful it is to get feedback on our writing, both to improve and to realize that room for improvement is natural, and doesn’t make you a bad artist.
We also talk more about schedules and managing the stress of multiple projects — good to think about as National Novel Writing Month (for those who wonder what the heck this Nanowrimo thing is) approaches — and Olivia comes up with a great motto.
The writing prompt, if you missed it in episode 6, is:
Your boss calls you into their office. What happens next?
What mottos keep you going?
