Daria Morgendorffer (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
standingonmyneck) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
starhuevalley2018-08-14 09:51 pm
standingonmyneck) wrote in starhuevalley2018-08-14 09:51 pm
Entry tags:
How a Writer Kills Time and Makes Money
[Your character might've stopped by at a local coffee shop/bakery at some point during the day or evening hours. This particular coffee shop started showing an ad on the door just today:
Dark Coffee with Melody Powers, a series of readings by DM (SUN AT 7PM)
So hey, you happened to have walked in. Congrats. So you'd find a small woman on a stage. She would be sitting on a stool with a small glass of water, and a little microphone.
Every night, she had a new story to tell. All centered around one woman, one agent, on many quests.
She had a new story every night, but she was new. Tonight was her first night. She's done this before, she's had her original stories shared a number of times. But now...hey, she was doing something with it she guessed.
Ahem. So with the lights dimmed, she began. Reading the notebook in front of her, here we went.]
We all have long lives ahead of us. Or so we all always hope. Melody Powers woke up every day wondering where her own life was leading her. As soon as she thought such things, she shook them away. She knew she could step one foot forward, and it all would be over. Every step she took was a risk, that was the life she knew she had come to lead. Each passing step could lead herself closer to a wall of knives. Soon enough, she thought, she was going to hit face first into that wall.
Melody would have no one to blame but herself. She knew that.
It came to a point in which she almost expected a call from HQ daily. With each new risky day, a new body was surely needing a proper disposal.
[She continued like this for a good half an hour, seeming like she was reading a few chapters of an ongoing work. She would stop tonight when Melody Powers was about to come face to face with an assassin, someone who had been hunting her. It cut short right when it seemed like the assassin was about to have the upper hand.
Until next week.
For now, she would retreat and actually order a coffee, even at night. But she was free, she supposed. She did do a social thing so her social batteries were going to have to deal with it.]
So hey, you happened to have walked in. Congrats. So you'd find a small woman on a stage. She would be sitting on a stool with a small glass of water, and a little microphone.
Every night, she had a new story to tell. All centered around one woman, one agent, on many quests.
She had a new story every night, but she was new. Tonight was her first night. She's done this before, she's had her original stories shared a number of times. But now...hey, she was doing something with it she guessed.
Ahem. So with the lights dimmed, she began. Reading the notebook in front of her, here we went.]
We all have long lives ahead of us. Or so we all always hope. Melody Powers woke up every day wondering where her own life was leading her. As soon as she thought such things, she shook them away. She knew she could step one foot forward, and it all would be over. Every step she took was a risk, that was the life she knew she had come to lead. Each passing step could lead herself closer to a wall of knives. Soon enough, she thought, she was going to hit face first into that wall.
Melody would have no one to blame but herself. She knew that.
It came to a point in which she almost expected a call from HQ daily. With each new risky day, a new body was surely needing a proper disposal.
[She continued like this for a good half an hour, seeming like she was reading a few chapters of an ongoing work. She would stop tonight when Melody Powers was about to come face to face with an assassin, someone who had been hunting her. It cut short right when it seemed like the assassin was about to have the upper hand.
Until next week.
For now, she would retreat and actually order a coffee, even at night. But she was free, she supposed. She did do a social thing so her social batteries were going to have to deal with it.]
no subject
Her brows shoot up in surprise at the response before she smiles. ]
That's a pretty good answer. [ Her brows crinkle slightly as she moves on to a different subject. ] Have you just arrived? Is that why you don't know too many people?
[ Now, she's a little concerned. ]
You...seem surprised that I liked your story. Why? It's pretty good.
no subject
The woman didn't seem to intrusive to her, so it probably would be okay to be upfront and pretty sincere.]
I'm what they call anti-social. But fate would have it that I'm pretty forced outside of my cocoon.
[A sip.]
I used to write this stuff all of the time and not share the personal stuff too often, I only just recently felt otherwise. So...I guess it's a decent feeling that people don't hate it.
no subject
And Sheena is merely curious, that's all.
She gives a friendly chuckle at the response. ]
Fate sure does like to stick its nose into things, doesn't it?
[ She nods. ]
I see. Well, you might want to get used to the feeling. I don't think I'm the only one who thought the story was good, and I wouldn't mind hearing more of it--or even another one. And you don't have to tell me anything you don't want to.
My name's Sheena, by the way. Sheena Fujibayashi.
no subject
[Even if she'd gotten up and did this before, hearing compliments like that still got to her a bit. It was hard to hold down a pink flush in her cheeks and she hoped the cafe was dim enough to hide it. Probably not.]
"Fate" is a real funny word for me. But at this point, I could probably stand to care a little less about that. Especially since I'll be depending on it more if this place plans on keeping me for entertainment.
no subject
Nice to meet you, Daria.
[ Sheena also can't handle compliments too well. But at least Daria doesn't stammer? ]
I take it you don't believe in fate? [ She's not being condescending; she's honestly curious. ] And I hope you mean this business, and not the Valley keeping you here.
[ Oh. A sore spot. ]