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COMING SOON! (all sorts of amazing links to all sorts of cool stuff about writing)

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Copyright 2017 RamonaCreel.com

When folks used to write about zombies, their stories always had a “science fiction-y” feel to them. The cause was either an alien ray-gun, a voodoo curse, a runaway virus, or some chemical agent let loose on an unsuspecting populace. It was totally fake — never would’ve happened outside of a George Romero movie or…

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– The Cocktail Party (he’s a corporate killer, she’s a social climber – this superficial couple attends a party, engaging in the same banal bragging-about-their-success conversations they always have, but with a twist – they discover later that they died in a car crash on the way to the party, ended up at an entirely…

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January 12th I’m only two semesters in — but so far, med school has been hard. Well, school in general has always been a challenge. I’m good at the lessons, but I don’t have a lot of friends. Never did. Something about me puts folks of. I’m not sure if it’s my s-s-s-s-stutter, or that…

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What can I say — love is complicated. It always seemed so easy for us, but then I guess it turns out it really wasn’t. That’s why I’m here talking to you now — right? I know, I know. Begin at the beginning, go back to the start, find out what went wrong. In high…

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Posted on:
October 6th, 2016

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Those who know me, recognize that I’m a tad, shall we say — verbose. Economy of language is not my strong suit. But I’m going to try my damnedest here to be pithy, succinct, and concise as I discuss short-form writing. (Dontcha just love how I use three words to describe the concept of eschewing…

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Posted on:
October 3rd, 2016

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Tomorrow. The unbearable lightness of possibility, But terror weighs more, in the end. What measure of a life? Legacy, contribution, seemingly lofty pursuits — Earthly treasures nonetheless. Hope blocking pursuit. The mind’s eye is dark, Unable or unwilling to see? Experience discarded like trash, Clogging the soul’s gutter, No longer emptying into the ocean. The…

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Surrounded by concrete and tears, Marbleized grief in a sea of strange faces, Stone angels? No, they must be family. Offering platitudes, promising a better place, Saying his name until the sound is foreign in my ears. I hate these things… Here comes another, My eyes, my lips — seen through a fog of years….

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A grinding halt, slamming of the brakes, head-on collision with a wall — That was my life, when I expelled you. Screaming, bleeding, cursing the heavens, Wishing I’d never survived this ordeal. So much lost as you sprung forth — child of torment, spawn of remorse, Rotten fruit dripping from my loins, my only legacy…

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Faded sheets like dwindled hopes, In the shape of magazine clippings, tinged with cracked glue. Once vibrantly-colored, now monochromatic with age. Paper kisses, embraces of ink — smelling withered and dry. Planning is a poor substitute for passion. Dresses and hairdos, now hopelessly out of style, Love songs unsung, lingering tuneless in the air. Bouquets…

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