A7: Artistic

"So you're artistic?" Mitch asked, brushing some droplets from the shoulder of his Patagonia vest. Danny flushed as if he was last-picked boy for the playground kickball team, and busied himself with his phone. The elevator doors finally opened at their shared floor.

"Graphic designer," he shrugged, pointing to his ears with what he hoped was an apologetic, slightly dismissive smile. Danny was the graphic designer; he was short and chubby, wearing a purple bow tie, with jean cuffs rolled up to his knees. Was Danny "artistic"? What did Mitch think? "I do the posters." He closed, pointing to the line of blown up advertisements on the wall.

the Sevens

Rather than dive into A7, I want to be sure I'm making the right commitment for the entire 26-word run of "sevens." If I'm going to continue doing this hundreds of times, I need to keep shaking things up.

So - the plan for the sevens is to write the first 26 sentences (or so... going over is allowed) of a new project. Tomorrow, whatever sentence incorporates A7 must serve as the first sentence of the paragraph, chapter or story that follows with B7. Friday will be C7, and so on, until this particular exploration runs at least 26 sentences long.

A new challenge, then! See you tomorrow morning, ready to write.

Z6: Zygote

(I can't believe I need to look this one up: the cell produced by the union of two gametes, before it undergoes cleavage according to dictionary.com)

Sometimes, Raina felt as if she and Zev were designed like a zygote - recently unioned from disparate sources, and destined to split down the center, and part.

Y6: Yard

In the small patch of thin grass between the stoop and the curb - what my mother dismissively called "that yard" - the dog snuffed at the dried remains of other dogs, and barked, once, at the empty street.

X6: There is no X6

Perhaps my vision will falter a bit here, as we clamber up our alphabet, and the more challenging letters begin to fall away.

She is exotically disfigured, her features almost fish-like, the angles of her face stretching up and away.

At least exotic has an "x".....

W6: There is no W6

Last night I reclaimed some writing time - real writing time - for me. Starting last night, I'm spending 3 hours every Tuesday evening writing across from a former professor at a local coffee shop. No rules other than silence, 3 hours, and talk breaks allowable only every 45 minutes or so.

Our inaugural event was marked by nerves and excitement, and the near-full revision of a story I'd lost touch with years ago. Next week's 3 hours hopefully won't seem as scary.

So "W6" is a win.

V6: Vociferous

"I am not vociferous!" Reston bellowed, which would have made me laugh if not for his size, anger and disorder. I eyed the one older couple sitting in the corner and chucked my chin, granting them permission to go.