The connection to other writers in the blog world?
The opportunity to stretch my fiction muscles?
The magical world of make-believe that I can create in 5 sentences?
The fact that it provides fodder during my dry spells of inspiration.
This week's word is Spunk.
You can find other - mostly likely better - entries by clicking on the link above.
As Serena Kleinfelder’s due date approached, she dwelled more and more on the sexist monopoly on naming – why couldn’t this child be Serena Junior? Paul humored his wife by agreeing with her, but since he was certain she would be giving birth to a boy, he knew the point was moot - the new arrival would carry on the proud name of Paul Ulysses Norton Kleinfelder.
Then again, mused Paul, it might be foolhardy to disregard Grandfather Bert – or Umberto – and the fortune he had made from his vineyards. Meanwhile, Serena was recalling Aunt Nigella and her threats, when she went to that great canasta game in the sky, of bestowing the proceeds from her four-bedroom condo in Boca on the local cat shelter.
All were thrilled when Serena Pauline Umberta Nigella Kleinfelder, six pounds three ounces, arrived on time, fated after a lively year of second grade at Henry Barnard Elementary School to be forever known at Spunk.