We Storybirders are so cool; we’re fighting the Potato Apocalypse!


I just reread @firstredhead’s Fighting the Potato Apocalype, and I HAD to write a blog post on YSBU after my line in Chapter 4:

Cherry’s mouth gaped open in awe as she viewed the approaching army dig and push beneath the earth.
“I know this is a really bad time,” she said, not removing her gaze. “But this is so going on the blog.”

In case you didn’t know, APTers (a term we use for members of A Pointless Task) are obsessed with potatoes, for some reason. FtPA is this super-potatorific longform book which has a star-studded cast of characters which consists of various Storybirders (not all could be mentioned in this blog post, unfortunately). The plot is face-paced, intriguing and just – amazing. Even if you don’t know those Storybirders, it’s a great read. Now, onto the post:

Click the above image to start reading FtPA by firstredhead on Storybird

Continue reading “We Storybirders are so cool; we’re fighting the Potato Apocalypse!”

A Mad Lib Pep Talk from FromDust


Here’s an awesome exercise to keep you busy for a few minutes. It’s incredibly fun: Try it out! Substitute each blank with the answer you give to it’s number. Have fun! =D
Posted on APT 12 by FromDust

1.An awesome superhero name
2. Adjective describing your main character
3. Your favorite snack
4.The last verb your main character enacted
5.The manufacturer of your favorite snack
6.The first piece of dialogue in your story that starts with ‘You…’
7.Your current word count
8. Adjective describing your inner editor
9.Adjective describing your best friend
10.Your favorite supporting character in your project
11.The last piece of dialogue in your story that ended with an exclamation point
12.How much time you last spent writing
13.Your favorite mythological creature
14.Your favorite author
15.Write a sentence beginning with the words “Once upon a time”

Once, there lived a writer, known throughout the lands as (1)____________. This writer was seized by inspiration one July, and struck out to tell the tale of one known only as “The (2)____________ One.”

The first two weeks were full of wonder. Fueled by (3)____________, the writer generated conflicts like vast thunderstorms, and characters so real they jumped off the page only to (4)____________ you right in the face. (5)____________, now aware of the crucial role they played in this writer’s story-spinning, swelled with pride and told the writer, “(6)____________.”

Alas, not all was so rosy. After hitting (7)____________, the writer remembered their last pang of doubt. What if they became blocked once again? What if their story was silly? Maybe… maybe it would be better to stop. They looked into the mirror, and the face they saw seemed almost (8)____________.

At the writer’s darkest moment, a/an (9)____________ voice arose. “Hey, you can do this,” it said. “If you don’t, how will we ever find out what happens to (10)____________? I don’t want to live in a world with that kind of empty hole. Don’t stop now.”

The writer nodded, saying “(11)____________! No matter how far away from my word-count goal I am, I promise to write for at least (12)____________ a day.”

With that, a rainbow sprang across the sky like a (13)____________ racing toward the newest novel by (14)____________. The world seemed to hold its breath, waiting for the writer’s next sentence. The writer smiled, took a deep breath, and wrote “(15)____________…”

Here’s mine:

Once, there lived a writer, known throughout the lands as Lady Wasp. This writer was seized by inspiration one July, and struck out to tell the tale of one known only as “The Suspicious One.”

The first two weeks were full of wonder. Fueled by deep-fried oreos, the writer generated conflicts like vast thunderstorms, and characters so real they jumped off the page only to follow you right in the face. Nabisco, now aware of the crucial role they played in this writer’s story-spinning, swelled with pride and told the writer, “You’re one of the Okays.”

Alas, not all was so rosy. After hitting 8543 words, the writer remembered their last pang of doubt. What if they became blocked once again? What if their story was silly? Maybe… maybe it would be better to stop. They looked into the mirror, and the face they saw seemed almost careless.

At the writer’s darkest moment, a/an pretty voice arose. “Hey, you can do this,” it said. “If you don’t, how will we ever find out what happens to Esther? I don’t want to live in a world with that kind of empty hole. Don’t stop now.”

The writer nodded, saying “I found it! Finally! No matter how far away from my word-count goal I am, I promise to write for at least an hour a day.”

With that, a rainbow sprang across the sky like a centaur racing toward the newest novel by J.K. Rowling or Rick Riordan. The world seemed to hold its breath, waiting for the writer’s next sentence. The writer smiled, took a deep breath, and wrote “Once upon a time, I wandered into a forest…”