I've always been fascinated by the idea of converting photos into some kind of artwork. Here are some of my old attempts at converting my photos into sketch-like drawings. Opinions welcome, of course.
NOTE: This post is an entry to the Friday Challenge, which can be found here . The shooting star arced across the sky, leaving a trail that must have been miles long, shooting sparks in all directions. It was easily the longest shooting star he had ever seen, awake or dreaming. He was dreaming, wasn't he...? He looked around, seeing the children playing basketball with an inflated frog next door. Across the street, there was a horse and carriage in the driveway, instead of the Honda that was usually parked there. And he was getting ready to leave for work with bright, fluffy pink bunny slippers on his feet. Yes, he was pretty sure he was dreaming. He let the dream carry him across the street and around the block, and where there should have been an elementary school, he instead found the quiet neighborhood where his grandmother lived. If he hadn't already known he was dreaming, this would have cinched it, because her home was a forty-five minute drive away--more during r...
This is an entry into this week's Friday Challenge, which can be found here . I've written about Nicky Weird before . The challenge for this week? Write the Climactic Battle scene. Xarathon's rage grew as he stalked the halls of the abandoned high school, eight lesser vampires surrounding him. It's the Harvest Moon, he thought savagely, one of the most magically potent nights of the year. I should be sacrificing virgins, not hunting children. Indeed, it was forty years to the day since the Harvest Moon where he had cursed the entire Earth, covering up the appearance of vampires and magic once and for all. He should be ripping the still-beating heart from the chest of the leader of these savages, that Nicky woman, not wasting his time looking in closets and stalking empty corridors. Up ahead, movement, a fleeting blur as a teenager dashed across the lobby and into the gymnasium. With snarls of impatience, his troops dashed ahead, pursuing the youngster through...
It's all Jerri's fault. Jerri read something I wrote , and declared "I'm impressed. You can write funny; I can't do that." Now, Jerri is a "real" writer, with over a dozen tech books under her belt; I'm strictly amateur, with a handful of unpublished and mostly unread short stories and poems. To have impressed someone I admire as much as Jerri had an impact on me. Thus was NickelAtATime born. The concept is simple (and right there in the EULA, and everyone reads those, right...?). If you laugh at a joke, you pull up your Paypal account and send in a nickel. You can send more if you like, but the MSRP of these jokes is exactly five cents. It started out as a mailing list, but the job I was working at the time went away shortly after I sent out the first issue, and it...kinda died. Once life stabilized again, I turned it into a blog, and lately, I've been trying to bring it completely to life--and pack it full of fun and humor. Why am I w...
Comments