Worldbuilding

Sometimes I work with friends to build new worlds. It goes something like this: 

R: Aliens create a soap opera/gladiator arena like the Hunger Games with "lesser beings" and make them fight, survive, and multiply for the entertainment of the masses. 

J: Like Survivor, only better.

And more violent.

Sometimes.

R: *nods*

J: "And if you're entertaining enough, then we won't destroy your planet."

"You won't?"

"Correct. We'll keep you alive for entertainment."

R: Should entertainment be the sole determining value of your species' survival? Does winning matter, if you're boring?

J:  If you're boring, I don't think you'd win. Challenges must be completed in order to gin points. Audience input (American Idol style voting) can sway the game and influence challenges to a certain degree.

R: Actually...maybe that's what the "Queen" of each team can service. Long-term players can continually advance their 'tribe' by gradually creating hybrid super-species. If a player is 'captured' and re-born one season, in the next they'll be playing for another team...

J: Once a Player, always a Player?

R: More or less.

J: Maybe if you survive 3 consecutive games you can retire.

R: I like that idea. :) It's both a motivation factor, and a balancing mechanic! If a player gets too strong, they'll start winning, and then they'll be made to get out!

This isn't the end of the conversation, to be sure, but if you guys are interested in this sort of story (dubbed the "Rebirth Arena") I might share more of it as it develops. :)

Pet

You've been called by a friend, who says that someone abandoned a pet near their house, and could you take it to the shelter while they're at work? You're a nice person, so of course you agree, but when you arrive, the abandoned pet isn't what you expected.

---

"What's the problem? Is that really the question you're asking right now?" I look up at the sky as though I'll find the answers there. Nothing but clouds, but at least it's not the box. There's a sigh on the other end of the line and I lower my gaze as Carol's voice crackles in my ear.

"I can't keep it, and I'm at work until 6. The shelter closes at 4:30. Please, Rick, do me this favor?"

"You failed to mention that the pet in question is the size of a small horse!" The box is easily large enough to hold an adult, or maybe a couple kids. "Horse-sized" is an exaggeration, but the snuffling sounds from the other side of the wood planks are making me nervous.

Resumes

You're accepting resumes for a new villain in your novel. What are you looking for?
---

As the latest applicant's cloak whipped dramatically around the corner after him and the door closed on his maniacal laughter, Etta rested her face in her hands. She'd interviewed three of them already, and was deeply regretting her choice to offer "On the Spot" interviews for this position. Villains. She wished one of them would freeze her in stasis and hold her for ransom just to simplify things. They might even get the job that way.

Breaking Up with Writer's Block

 "Write a letter breaking up with your Writer's Block."
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Dear Writer's Block,

It's probably underhanded to do this in a letter. You deserve better from me, but this is the best I can give you. I really want you to know that it's not you, it's me.

I know we've been together for such a long time, but it's just not working for me. I feel stifled - I need some space to try my own thing.

I'm really sorry to do this to you. We had a good run. I hate to hurt you over something so silly. Sometimes I felt like you didn't understand my need to increase my wordcount. I'm sure sometimes you felt I didn't understand your need for my complete attention. We just weren't very well matched.

I want you to go find someone who's a better fit for you. You're really nice when you try. I'm sure you'll find someone new.

I suppose that this is goodbye, then.

Wishing you all the best,
Elle

Rejection Rejection

"Most of us have received a rejection letter at one time or another. Write a rejection letter to a rejection letter, explaining why you find it unsatisfactory."

---

Hello Marcus,

Thank you for your kind attention to my submission to All Things You Need To Know for the October issue. While I am grateful for your quick reply, I'm afraid that you may not have read the poem in question. You referred to there being "no need at this time for ballads about insects," when clearly Ode to a Slug is neither a ballad, nor is it concerned with insects.

This being the case, I'm sure if you give Ode to a Slug a close reading (preferably after 9 PM and half a glass of red wine) you'll see that it really does fit well with your October theme for All Things You Need To Know, "Mysteries of Time."

I hope this read-through will help you see the true beauty of Ode to a Slug, as I do.

Awaiting your reply,
A. Clement

"Legal" Rewrite

"Do you have a better idea?" Ares frowned at his daughter, disliking the idea that a 13-year-old girl might think she could do his job better than he could. Well, the fact that she thought she could wasn't what bothered him. It was the fact that she might be able to do it.

A smirk played about her mouth. "Yeah. Why don't you just send him to the school nurse? He skipped the school physical." The girl tilted her head back to squint up at her tall, broad, muscular father. A police officer. He had been a bounty hunter when she was younger, and she thought that was cooler. Fewer rules, probably.

"The school physical exam is optional. I can't make him submit to it if he doesn't want to." He sighed. This was an idea he'd already had. Sinking into his chair, he tried to squash the conflicting feelings of relief and disappointment.

Organic Machine

I have heard the Smart Ones say that the human mind is an organic machine. That it's the most complex computer ever to have existed - possibly, that ever will exist. I've heard them say similar things about most parts of the human body. The ones that disagree, that say they could do better, usually fail.

The paper in my hand is stiff with dried water and grit. The Smart Ones still have access to some of the Old Things, the machines that fly through the air and send data across continents in a blink and generate hundreds of pages that look exactly alike. Mostly, the only machines we use are in our skulls.