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Okay, I am exaggerating. But only recently have I begun to explore fiction writing. As I started looking into writing for Kindle, I realized I have been completely excluding fiction books.
Fiction has been a dirty word in my vocabulary for practically my whole life. I am not sure why. Maybe it intimidates me because I have to create from a completely imaginary world, not a real one. It seems writers gravitate towards one or the other: fiction or non.
Is it possible to do both?
Why not?
I may have to build up the muscle to participate in that kind of writing. Either way, tapping into this foreign genre is a great way to stimulate all kinds of writing, creative non-fiction or fictional story writing.
I took this prompt from the Writer’s Digest. Here it is: (please be gentle, but honest!)
Prompt: This time, you’re in too deep. Your gambling losses have been mounting and, with a recent ill-advised bet, have put you $50,000 in debt. Your bookie, knowing you don’t have that kind of cash, is willing to wipe your debt clean if you carry out a very dangerous mission for him.
The smell was making my eyes water, but I knew I had to face Carlos in order to avoid the confrontation with Cheri. She was already upset over the $5,000 I lost last month. What would she think if she found out about the debt that was ten times as much? That thought, combined with the sour odor, made my stomach flip. I was desperate.
Pacing back and forth, I glanced into the kitchen. Now, I knew where that stench was coming from. As Carlos walked out of the bedroom, he looked as if he had not slept in a while.
My hands shook as I lit a cigarette. “Listen, Carlos, I wouldn’t ask you, if I wasn’t desperate. I mean, you know, I’ll get money. I’ll do whatever to get out of this mess.”
“Whatever, huh?”
Carlos pulled up a chair real close to me, and reached across to grab a cigarette from my shirt pocket.
As Carlos stared out the window, I could faintly hear the muffled sounds of an argument from the apartment upstairs. I just wish I had the money so I could leave.
Breaking the silence, the man who once lived in a nice apartment in the Lincoln neighborhood, coughed and then spoke.
“I’ll forgive your debt.”
“Great.” Now I could get the hell out of here.
“Yep.”
“Wow! That’s great, Car–“
“Except… Except, you have to do me this one favor.”
“Anything.”
Carlos went on to tell me about how he had bosses, too. His red eyes teared up as he told me that he was also placing risky bets and couldn’t pay his bosses back. They were “less forgiving.” Now his bosses were after him. He had to sell his apartment and move to this dump. But it wasn’t enough.
“Rick, listen. I can get the money. I know a guy who lives in my old neighborhood that has serious cash and jewelry in a safe. Before I moved to this hell hole, I was a good friend to him. At least he thought of me that way. Which means he confided in me about his valuables. Maybe he trusted me. Maybe he was testing me. Either way, I can get to the safe. It’s a lot, man. But I really need your help in this.”
I just stared at him, wanting to run away and just take out a loan from a bank. It was only fifty thousand. It’s not as if it was half a mil or something. Yet somehow, I knew that if I didn’t help Carlos, it would end badly. Carlos may be feeling sorry for himself right now, but he had a vindictive side to him that you don’t want to instigate. I could feel the hairs on the back of my neck rise. I put the cigarette out and stood up.
“Carlos, what are you asking me to do?”
“It’s simple. Are you hungry? I could fix you something to eat.”
“Let’s go out. I want to hear your plan,” I suggested in desperation.
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