katelinjoywrites.bsky.social
Curtis Brown Creative Alum (Six-Month Course) | On the Writing Journey
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There was a film on the sapling’s trunk. A damp membrane glossing its surface, reflecting flickers from her lantern. She dragged her finger through it, just to be sure. It was cool to the touch, gummy and gelatinous. She raised it to her lips. Candied. Sweet. The taste of salvation. #WriteCBC
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I always find myself so jealous of your Cake & Writes! Love living vicariously through you on Wednesdays :)
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I love Scrivener and can't imagine writing without it! It takes a bit to learn, but I personally think it's worth the time.
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*adds ingredients to shopping cart*
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Thank you so much!
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Thank you! I agree - a fantastic start to the festive season!
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Thank you! It was such fun to connect with you and others during the writing of this #5ActFestiveStory
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She looked to the frozen figure before her. "I’m sorry,” he said, “it was never meant to be this way.” The Winter Warlock cautiously approached Ella, her memories feeding the flame, drawing him in, melting his icy exterior. Beneath it, a man. Embracing his daughter on Christmas. #5ActFestiveStory
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She strained to make sense of it all as the ice approached her heart: the postcard, the fire, her mother’s tears. But it wasn’t until her father appeared—the door shattering to crystals—when she knew what she must do. Close her eyes, summon the flame, and warm his frosty soul. #5ActFestiveStory
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It’s then that Ella remembered: her music box. It had been humming all day, vibrating with a curious energy. “Mum,” she said, running to fetch the antique, “I know what can help.” Her mother retorted, but moments too late. Ella had found it, firmly in the grasp of an elfin man. #5ActFestiveStory
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But no words came. Instead, a low rumbling. Not from her mother, but from the hearth. Ella’s eyes grew wide as tremors turned to quakes - mortar crumbled, bricks collapsed. Dust and smoke filled the air. And when it cleared, a figure. “It’s you,” she said. The author of the card. #5ActFestiveStory
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She shuddered to think someone wrote this, dared send it to this forgotten place. And in a blizzard—the children stir-crazy, running rampant with their dreams. But as she examined it—the unsteady strokes, the crooked stamp—she wondered. Had it really come from beyond these walls? #5ActFestiveStory
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Truer words have never been spoken!