Click here to read this adventure from the beginning.
Brian (our beloved host, at least in his own mind): “Welcome to the first installment of the Bonnywood Manor version of sitting around the campfire and sharing sordid tales of debauchery and mayhem. Wait, that might sound a bit extreme.” [Clears throat, flips through pages of the script that he should have been following if he had any sense, which he does not, until he finds the exact wording approved by the Advisory Board.] “Welcome to Bonnywood, where we welcome all guests in a completely non-judgmental manner and we celebrate diversity with an intensity that is completely unfathomable to people who are not on the Advisory Board.”
Lone member of the audience, who is only there because she was on a quest to find the loo and decided she should rest a bit on one of the plushly-comfortable chairs in the Bonnywood Manor auditorium: “Who the hell are you and why are you spewing so many fancy words?”
Brian, undaunted: “I’m the host, here to help you through the post.”
Lone: “How cute. A rhyme. Like nobody has ever done that before, Shakespeare.”
Brian, daunted: “You seem to have an issue.”
Lone: “Of course I do. My bladder is bulging and my retirement investments are in shambles because somebody thought it might be fun to eat animals that they shouldn’t.”
Brian: “Oh, I feel your pain.”
Lone: “Do you really? You’re a man, so you can pee wherever you want. I have to squat, which limits my options. If I don’t have a level surface and some hand-bars or a bronzed, swarthy assistant to help me get back up, I could tumble down the mountainside, spritzing everybody.”
Brian: “You’re right. I can’t imagine that. And I don’t want to. But rumor has it that our president would find it interesting.”
Advisory Board member, offstage: “Pssst.”
Brian, glancing over, mildly miffed: “I’m in the middle of something here. I’ll sign autographs later.”
ABM: “We agreed that we would keep the politics low-key until folks have settled in around our virtual campfire.”
Brian: “Oh, right. So, what should I do?”
ABM: “Stick to the script, Bone Spur.”
“Got it.” Brian turns back to the diminutive and clenched audience. “Ladies and… okay, lady. Thank you for joining the first category of our Campfire Songs project. This one is entitled ‘Prose, Promos and Prompts’.”
Lone: “Yeah, I got that when I read the title of this post. You do know how a blog post works, right?”
Brian: “I think the jury is still out on that.”
ABM, hissing: “Script!”
Brian, reading: “This category page is for sharing links in the following areas:
PROSE. This would be anything that you have written yourself, be it a short story, a personal reflection, a quasi-historical account of that one time at band camp, or a bit of poetry you composed in a moment of post-coital bliss, scribbled on the back of the hotel receipt. Your piece might have a better fit on one of the other category pages, so check those out, but if not, plunk it here.
PROMOS. This involves luring innocent victims to the main page of your own blog (if you have one), links to your own books (if you have written such) or links to the books of others (if your blog involves book promotion and author support). You can also provide links to blogs and websites that you just find interesting.
PROMPTS. This would be writing prompts that will help inspire fellow writers who might need a little creative push, sitting in front of a blank screen and a questionable future. You can simply suggest something in the comments, link to a related post in your own blogosphere or helpfully direct folks toward sites that regularly feature writing-prompt challenges. Turn page.”
Lone: “I’m thinking you probably could have kept that last bit to yourself. But since you’ve stopped moving your mouth for two seconds, I’ve got to go. Literally. I’ll just dash off while you prepare for the next category page.”
Brian: “So you’re coming back?”
Lone: “Of course. I’m really enjoying watching you fumble through this.”
Click here to read the next Fire.