Dear Fellow Writers:
Let's try something different. In the comments section, WRITE the next sentence. It's only one sentence, so it better be good. The winning sentence will be inserted in the manuscript, which could end up (in)on an agent's/editor's iPad/Kindle/Nook/inbox/desk within the next year, which could end up in the hands of a publisher, which could end up on a bookshelf. Maybe. Hopefully. Eventually.
WIP - Sample Chapter:
The robins and sparrows are in full bloom this morning, chattering and singing in high-pitched tones that make my neck hair stand up straight. It’s worse than when Mrs. Tingle used to scoot chairs across the tile floor to make space in the classroom for science experiments.
As I stroll toward the street corner to wait for the bus, Mom drives by and honks while blowing a kiss out the window.
“See you at school, honey,” she yells. A stream of smoke filters out the window and she drives away, missing tail light and all.
Everyone at the bus stop laughs, including Gabriela. She’s wearing a light red dress made of thin material. Her hair parts in the slight breeze, revealing her high cheeks and round eyes. Her legs are tan, like she’s been on vacation in Florida. Do they get darker in the summer and lighter in the winter?
“Your mom's a piece of work.”
It’s him. The Oger. He’s leaning against the stop sign. He spits and a brown streak splats on the pavement. He’s as tall as Dad was, but he’s 40 pounds overweight and uglier than an ostrich.
In second grade he dumped volcano spew on my desk and ruined my best eagle drawing of all time. In third grade he pulled my underwear over my head. In fourth grade he started calling me Fishboy, and so did everyone else. In fifth grade he locked me in the equipment room and I was stuck in there for two periods. Last year he… (complete this sentence)