Hey there, how’s everybody’s day/evening going? I suppose I should remember my manners and introduce myself… My name is Willow, and I’m on a search currently for the writer I’ve always dreamed of: this writer will be capable of telling an unbelievable and competing narrative, detailing every last bit down to the crack in the wooden floorboards.
I’m looking for the best, and I know he or she is out there right now… Someone who can tell stories that could easily be the next Hollywood blockbuster, and stories that will keep a girl like me warm on cold nights with its detail. I ask because I wanted to exchange stories… Basically we each give each other prompts for what we want the other to write, and then we exchange them later on. I have many romance ideas (with adult themes obviously) that I’ve always wanted to see brought to life in top notch quality and detail, and I promise I can deliver in return if you take a chance on me. If you think you’re the writer I’ve been desperately searching for, send me a LONG private message explaining just WHY you’re the one… I look forward to your messages and urge you to be confident, never be shy about your writing ability. Thank you all again and happy writing! <3
Also, included below is an excerpt from my own previous work… I want to make sure the brilliant writers out there know what I myself am capable of in return before answering me. To many times, this is a guessing game and that won’t be the case with my work…
Excerpt from “The TIGER.LILY Files”
‘As the stoplight flashed the all-important green, vehicles bunched up from each corner of the intersection revved their engines. In seconds the traffic came together in perfect harmony, their different colors passing parallel to one another like a mosaic on a wall. Amongst it all were pedestrians attempting to cross the busy streets, only to meet the angry horns of flustered drivers. The sun was attempting to peek out, but remained blocked out by the dozens of gargantuan structures that populated the city skyline. Not that anyone down below even noticed as the flurry of citizens poured in and out of shops like worker ants; no one in this city ever looked up to the sky, electing instead to stare downward and get lost in their smartphones… More often than not, these people were the ones hearing the angry horns of drivers. Everyone was going somewhere that afternoon and no one would settle for getting to that somewhere slowly. In the middle of the metropolis was a young street vendor with a band t-shirt that was too small for him, and three rings pierced to his lip; he patrolled the packed street corners, attempting to sell away his collection of bootlegged movies… ‘Better quality than the theatre.’ he would preach. Most would simply ignore his sales pitch or even toss him bits of change, mistaking him for a homeless man. The city was alive this time of day, with all its little parts working together like cogs keeping a machine pumping. This was the urban jungle, and one only needed to stop and listen to hear what it had to offer. Fifty stories above the metropolis, Kent Bradley couldn’t hear the sounds of the urban jungle even if he tried. Although he couldn’t scientifically prove it yet, the young man swore that time itself ran slower on a Friday afternoon. It was as if the universe wanted to squeeze the young employee until his face turned blue; only then would it finally release him to the safety of the weekend… He checked his watch again for the fifth time that minute, reluctant to find it still hadn’t budged. With a sigh, the businessman crumpled up a stray piece of paper on his desk and shot it across the room, just bouncing off the rim of the steel trash can beside the door… in his defense, that was the closest one he’d hit all day. Like all low level employees like him, Kent’s office was compact like a college dorm; there was barely room for the wooden desk he sat at, and the only other piece of furniture in the room was a rusted old filing cabinet in the corner that Kent called the ‘file graveyard’…. In three years with the company, he had never re-opened that cabinet to retrieve a file. The walls were a plain teal color and sometimes after falling asleep by accident, the young man fantasized they were ocean waves and his desk was a boat he could sail away on. Sitting upon the desk itself was a motley collection of items, including a plaque with his name spelled wrongly, an apple shaped pencil sharpener, and a small picture of his beautiful wife Carrie. Sitting front and centre on the desk was a towering stack of paperwork that was only capable of growing and never shrinking…. He couldn’t scientifically prove that, either. Behind him was a large glass window should’ve gazed out at the beautiful city skyline… Except the view was blocked by the WigMaster corporate headquarters, adjacent to their building; the only thing Kent could see all day was the big flashing wig that filled his office with neon green when the sun went down.. It was an office that mirrored his position at the company perfectly, IRRELEVANT.’
Source: reddit.com/r/eroticliterature/comments/4g5r4u/a_truly_talented_sexy_writer_is_needed
https://www.reddit.com/r/DirtyWritingPrompts