#writers workshop

A young man hurried through the crowded streets, trying to get home after a long day at work. But tonight, fate had other plans.

As he turned a corner, a group of shadowy figures emerged from the darkness, surrounding him with menacing intent. "You! We finally found you," one of them growled, pointing accusingly at the bewildered man.

"What? What did I do?" he stammered, his heart racing with fear.

"Don't play dumb with us! You think you can just waltz around like nothing happened?" another voice spat, the anger palpable in the air.

The young man's mind raced, trying to understand what was happening. He had never seen these people before, yet they seemed to know him. "I swear, I don't know what you're talking about! Please, just let me go!" he pleaded, desperation creeping into his voice.

But the mob wasn't interested in his pleas. With a swift movement, one of them lunged forward, aiming a punch at his face. Instinctively, the young man ducked, narrowly avoiding the blow. "Enough of your lies! You think we'll let you get away with it?" the attacker snarled, readying for another strike.

As the situation escalated, the young man's mind raced, trying to find a way out of the danger closing in around him. He knew he had to think fast if he wanted to survive the night.

Suddenly, a voice cut through the tension like a knife. "Hold on a minute! What's going on here?" A figure stepped out of the shadows, casting a commanding presence over the scene.

The mob faltered, their aggression momentarily halted by the newcomer's interruption. "None of your business, stranger. This guy's got it coming," one of them muttered, eyeing the newcomer warily.

The newcomer's gaze softened as he turned to the young man, offering a reassuring smile. "You okay?" he asked quietly, extending a hand to help him up.

With a grateful nod, the young man took the stranger's hand, feeling a surge of relief wash over him. "Yeah, thanks. I don't know what would've happened if you hadn't shown up," he admitted, his voice trembling with emotion.

Writer’s Workshop entry, the second:

“But… but there’s only one bed,” she said, turning to look at Mulder over the rounded edge of her shoulder. He stood just outside the room in the hallway, the paisley pattern of the carpet making his already tired eyes cross. “They said it was a double,” she went on, appealing to his sense of propriety or chivalry —he wasn't sure which.

“Maybe they meant the size of the bed,” he sighed, pushing past her to get a look at the room himself.

“I’m calling the registration desk,” she said, making her way over to the room phone at a clip.

It was a nice room for New York, not big, but it had large windows, with a great view of the city.

“Yes, this is Dana Scully, I’m calling from room 2021, and there seems to be an issue-”

He didn’t envy whoever was working the desk – Scully was decidedly Not Happy, and her tone was as sharp as the scalpels she used to carve up the dead. And then, as he took in the view from the 20th floor, the lights went off all over the city.

“Hell-hello?” Scully said from behind him. He could hear the double-tap click as she tested the phone’s various mechanics.

“Not sure we’re getting a different room tonight,” Mulder said, drifting over to the bed and flopping down on top of it.

Scully looked at him questioningly, her head tilted like a Yorkie.

“Blackout,” he explained, gesturing vaguely toward the window. They had not bothered turning on any lights.

Scully said something uncharitable under her breath and Mulder let his head thunk back onto the pillow under him. His clothes were rumpled and smelled stale and sour. All he wanted to do was shower and sleep – in that order and without any delay.

If you missed it, there'll be more. The next one is scheduled for 8/19 @ 1pm EST.

Here are last night's prompts. Pick one, set a 15-minute timer, and see how you do.

ADDITIONAL USEFUL INFORMATION:

As a musician, and partner to a strikingly handsome classical guitarist and amateur luthier I am here to give you a crash course on the lute. 

If you’re one of those weirdos like me who needs to know the FEELS of the lute. 

They’re lightweight, ever so fragile, and they smell of raw wood with the faintest of warm, earthy spices. 

Catgut strings don’t have a super strong smell but for instance if you’re restringing the entire lute by the end your hands will smell kind of musky from the catgut strings. 

Clarification 8-course lutes were the second most common in the Renaissance. The most common was 6-course. 

I know you’re all wondering...

Yes, Jaskier plays a Baroque lute.

If you want resources on learning to play the lute head HERE. 

Thank you to the writers for submitting such fantastic works to the workshop! It was a delight to read through them.

This event wouldn't have been such a grand success without our amazing content team and everyone who dropped in with their constructive suggestions in the discord chat.

Special thanks to @pinkweirdsunsets and @djmarinizelablog for organizing this workshop and @dontatmethanks plus @glassesandswords for facilitating it.

Also, a huge thank you to @jumpinguptothesky for keeping everyone on time and creating the stunning artworks that were the face of this event.

What does a book absolutely need to be good, in your opinion? More specifically, fiction.