Writer's Club: Issue #5, September 2006

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Writer’s Beat

September - Monthly Publication - www.writersbeat.com

A monthly newsletter for writer’s... Writer’s Beat Recommendations A very nice column by a recent staff member. He writes about which stories to check out at our local community, writersbeat.com Page 2

Competitions Information about the hosted competitions at Writer’s Beat Page 3

Writer’s Beat I’d just like to thank everyone for taking the time to be a part of Writer’s Beat and for taking interest in downloading Writer’s Club, the official publication of Writer’s Beat - I hope you all enjoy and read the next few paragraphs carefully if you’d like to be a part of the development.

Staff Positions Available Hello all, Hope everyone is having an excellent week, if not hope it gets better asap. Alright, to get more to the point - there are several positions available at the moment. If you see one that is not listed and you believe you can bring something to the table, please let me know and I will discuss the opportunity with you. All positions are currently voluntary, however the goal is for everyone to get paid once the communities can support an even share between themselves. Writer’s Beat Staff Positions Available - PR / Marketing - Graphic Design - Monthly Columnists - Programmers

Monthly Writer’s Beat Overview

Issue 5, September - 2006 Tips & Advice Various advice from members of WB Page 4

WritersLeaf Column by Kit Page 5

Contest Winners Non-Fic, Fiction, and Poetry contest winners with their entry.

Back Page In Appreciation... Page 9

Page 6-8

Review Cave Staff Positions Available - Moderation / Administration - Writer’s (reviews) - Graphic Design - Programmers If you are interested please contact via PM, and or email. ([email protected])

Shoutouts Oasis Writer - Lyricists Wanted: To any and all lyricist out there that this goes to, I bid you the opportunity for a critique. To all posters in that forum, I will eventually critique them all. Post up, don’t be shy, the only way to speed up a slow forum is to get people to post in it. To Any Role-players: We’d love to have you come play with us in either our currently running “Lament” story or in any other RP. Regarding Lament, if you are one of those devious, despicable villains out there, we’d love to have some of you playing with us. We currently have none, or had a few, but slowly shifted them to the good side of the ballpark. Come play, have a good time, test your writing skills, and enjoy.

cape by ship to Potornamus. Searching for his past, Evan follows a mysterious elf named Saria who holds him in highest enmity but who seems to be the only key to the answers he seeks. Pursued by his brothers and the Royal Army, the warrior Ares must continue to flee or be forced to commit acts of atrocious violence against innocent people. In the mix of it all are ship captain Colm mac Lir, of dubious repute, who would like nothing more than to retreat to the open seas, and young Rhia, who has something to prove. Recently introduced is Daghda, smuggler and knife fighter of considerable fame. Follow the story to see how she fits in! We are currently seeking any and all characters! We’d especially like a couple villains to match up against, as at the moment they are all figments of our imaginations. Jump in and join the fun! Kal - I would like to take this opportunity, on behalf of the rest of members of Writer’s Beat, to wish Kit Minden (riverstone) all the best on a speedy recovery from her operation, on September 19th. Our thoughts, prayers and well wishes are all on their way to you, along with far too many grapes. Get well soon Kit!

To either lyricists or role-players [or both] feel free to contact me, or any other willing Staff Member, by Private Message, Pager Message, IM, or Email if you have any concerns, questions, feedback, or suggestions. (Oasis Writer) Icarus - After the city of Greava suffers a devastating attack by the powerful Elementals, guided by the Royals of Malnarcosus, we follow six individuals, strangers brought together by fate, as they es1

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Writers Beat Recommendations Hey, Writers Beat. Mr. Murder here writing my column that was started to try to involve the entire community and boost the sites popularity and activity. I hope that it does. This month was fairly leaned back surprisingly. Although I found countless amounts of poetry and fiction to go through, I could not find that many lyrics put out this month. That was a little disappointing, merely because lyrics and music are my favorite. Surprise surprise! Therefore, I wanted to throw out a word saying: come post up in the lyrics Simple! After going through multiple stories, lyrics, and poems, I knew I had a hard decision coming up. After all that, here are my Writers Beat recommendations this month. Fiction Some of my favorite things to read are fiction stories because I sometimes feel like that story can put a new perspective on something I may have thought of before. After going through many stories, I could only choose two of them and they are: Lost By: Niniel http://www.writersbeat.com/lost-t5565.html The Back of Beyond By: Starrwriter http://www.writersbeat.com/back-beyond-t5469.ht ml Poetry I really enjoy reading poetry because it is a great way to get to learn more about another person through feelings and words. It is an emotional turntable. I went through countless amounts of poems to find some that I really liked that I want to recommend members of Writers Beat to look at. Here are my favorite poems this month. Roadside Ravens By: HobGadling http://www.writersbeat.com/roadside-ravens-t570 0.html Houseless by: Gary_Wagner http://www.writersbeat.com/showthread.php?t=5 482 Lyrics Music is my favorite pastime nowadays, so going through these was very much fun. Although there is a selection to go through, I would like to give a shout out to any lyricist to come in and post up. The Lyrics Forum is not as used as the Poetry, which is expected, but it is hard not to recommend one or two members repeatedly since they post the most there. I had a very difficult time trying to decide, but here are my favorites this month. The Shards Are On the Floor by: Boiling Frog 2

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http://www.writersbeat.com/shards-floor-t5524.ht ml Mourning Childhood by: Sketch_chic85 http://www.writersbeat.com/showthread.php?t=5 713

B Nothing could ever erase, the feelings I hold in my heart, a rest from disgrace In my heart, a rest from disgrace In my heart, a rest from disgrace

Now it is time for this months all-time favorite. I had so many to choose from, but I decided on Our Final Tear by Oasis Writer. Congratulations! This piece really spoke to me on several different levels of emotion and imagery. Very deep, very nicely done. Therefore, I decided to share it with the community.

Never sure of what to think anymore, the skies are bleak, the closing of a door A bloody gore, an assassination of a sandy shore, the lovely dcor of a coffin core That we all lay in at night, in the morose shadows that surrounds us forevermore Upon my final snore, it was time of war, to enter my hell that was in store To enter my hell that was in store To enter my hell that was in store

Our Final Tear

*(Chorus)*

I can see the end of the road, covered in blue, grey, silver, red. When I see the putrid flesh, the fragile colors of the lies you said. It only makes me further regret the one thing that you always fed A thin shred, everlasting dread, until we are dead, we will be wed Until we are dead, we will evermore be wed Until we are dead, we will evermore be wed

We lay together under the pine, the fickle frame of your face so delicate and fine The cut was undefined, the shiver went up my spine, a stagnation of my shrine It was a lie, I wouldnt lose you so easily, it was your lie? But how, you were mine A carving into my vein, concluding this pain, upon my flesh, the crows will dine Upon my flesh, the crows will dine Upon my flesh, the crows will dine

Favorite of the Month

*(Chorus)* And in the end, would you ever have known This heart thrashes on, a violent cyclone Its not whats said, but whats shown Our final tear settles, forever alone In this final tear, the knife will be honed Another life would have been blown Forever alone, never to be atoned Our final tear? Our final tear Youll never be alone Our final tear? Our final tear But youre already alone Youre on your own *(End Chorus)* In the atmosphere floats, the one thing I want to keep near A perpetual hope, a want, a strive that is for only you to hear The silent weep that I loved you, but your deceit never persevered It was severe, I was sincere, but you lied, so this is our final tear I was sincere, so this is our final tear I was sincere, so this is our final tear

*(Chorus)* *(Bridge)* I see road, covered in red. All I hear, are the lies you said. Thats all I was ever fed A thin shred, until were finally dead Until were finally dead Until were finally dead *(End Bridge)* *(Chorus 2x)*

http://www.writersbeat.com/showthread.php?t=5 599 *** Those were my monthly recommendations for this month. Please continue writing. Maybe you just might be in next months newsletter for what you wrote.

*(Chorus)*

Peace out,

The rainwater comes down, gradually as it trickles down on this avarice face A monument atop this grave, an endless whole, an eternal exit from this place A lilac upon the meadow: an enchantment of fear; something new to embrace

Cody K. (Mr. Murder)

Writer’s Beat Recommendations

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Competitions For the the challenge within us all...

Poetry

Fiction

Non-Fiction

It seems this is going to be a regular event.

It seems this is going to be a regular event.

It seems this is going to be a regular event.

Your mission for September, should you choose to except it is to write a sonnet, Shakespearean or Petrarchan, on any subject of your choosing. Details on sonnets can be found here: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Sonnet

Your mission for September, should you choose to except it is to write a short piece of fiction (no more than 500 words) without using adjectives or adverbs. So you’ll have to think of new ways to set the scene. This one’s tough but not as tough as you think. Kalibantre will post up an example shortly.

Your mission for September, should you choose to except it is to write a short piece of non-fiction (no more than 500 words) on the rather bizarre subject of glitter. It can be anything at all so long as it’s glittery… Yes it’s weird but we are trying to challenge you.

Entries that go over the word count (including the title) will be penalized. The decision of the judges (currently WB staff members) is final.

Entries that go over the word count (including the title) will be penalized. The decision of the judges (currently WB staff members) is final.

Entries must be posted between September 1st and the end of the day (11:59 p.m., US Pacific Time) on September 16th. Winners will be announced on September and will be “published” in the October newsletter.

Entries must be posted between September 1st and the end of the day (11:59 p.m., US Pacific Time) on September 16th. Winners will be announced on September and will be “published” in the October newsletter.

Entries must be posted between September 1st and the end of the day (11:59 p.m., US Pacific Time) on September 16th. Winners will be announced on September and will be “published” in the October newsletter.

Please post all submissions in this thread. All members are welcome to post, but everyone is limited to ONE submission in the Poetry section of the contest (remembering that you may also post a submission in Fiction and Non-Fiction in addition to your post here, as long as it abides by the rules of the other contests).

Please post all submissions in this thread. All members are welcome to post, but everyone is limited to ONE submission in the Fiction section of the contest (remembering that you may also post a submission in Poetry and Non-Fiction in addition to your post here, as long as it abides by the rules of the other contests).

Please post all submissions in this thread. All members are welcome to post, but everyone is limited to ONE submission in the Non-Fiction section of the contest (remembering that you may also post a submission in Poetry and Fiction in addition to your post here, as long as it abides by the rules of the other contests).

There is a slight addition to our contests in September. The WB staff, who volunteer to judge have been joined, for September only, by Gary Wagner, BleedinHeart and Rob. We hope you’ll bribe them accordingly.

From now on the staff will nominate three members each month to become guest judges, the best way to get our attention is to get out there and be a good member.

Post, critique, edit and do it all nicely. Any nominations you have can be sent via PM to any staff member.

Entries that go over the word count (including the title) will be penalized. The decision of the judges (currently WB staff members) is final.

Competitions

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5. He was carefully disguised but captured quickly by police.

Scroll down for answers...

Word of the Month cybersquatting /{‘}sa{I}b{schwa}skw{Q}t{I}{N}; AmE {‘}sa{I}b{schwa}rskw{A}{:}t{I}{N}/ noun [U] the illegal activity of buying and officially recording an address on the Internet that is the name of an existing company or a well-known person, with the intention of selling it to the owner in order to make a profit: The Senate passed an anti-cybersquatting Bill on 5 August. > cybersquatter noun: Many trademark owners prefer to pay cybersquatters for the right to use their own name rather than risk a court case. * An international panel agreed to evict a cybersquatter from the Internet address Madonna.com

Support Writer’s Beat by joining the staff or donating at the donate page! Donate Link

Tip of the Month Adverbs can be confusing; so, we will complete a few more lessons before moving on to other grammar tips. We need to memorize what adverbs tell us and what they modify. We must always remember this basic information to handle them correctly. * · Adverbs are words that modify (1) verbs, (2) adjectives, and (3) other adverbs. · Adverbs tell how (manner), when (time), where (place), how much (degree), and why (cause). Why is a common one-word adverb that tells why. · Adverbs that tell us how, when, where, and why always modify the verb. · Adverbs that tell us how much modify adjectives or other adverbs. These adverbs are also called qualifiers because they strengthen or weaken the words they modify.

Examples: He kicked the ball solidly. (how) He kicked the ball immediately. (when) He kicked the ball forward. (where) He kicked the ball too hard. (how much). Instructions: The following sentences have adverbs that tell us how, and they modify the verb. Find the adverbs in these sentences and tell what they modify. 1. Joe was frantically mumbling to the 911 operator.

Answers: 1. frantically modifying the verb was mumbling 2. secretly modifying the verb was hidden 3. beautifully modifying the verb was decorated 4. readily modifying the verb accepted 5. carefully modifying the verb was disguised and quickly modifying the verb was captured (was is a helping verb to both main verbs)

For more tips & advice, visit the Tips & Advice Forum

http://www.writersbeat.com/writing-tips-advice-f20.html

2. The message was secretly hidden in the cushion. 3. The room was decorated beautifully for the wedding. 4. The spy readily accepted the new assignment.

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Tips & Advice

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WritersLeaf September 2006 Shelterbelt – A Call for Poetry and Short Stories During my recent trip to Arizona, I was driving down a highway when I saw a shop with racks of clothing and books out front, and large signs proclaiming the items were available for the irresistible price of 49¢! Thinking that I might find some western trinket that would be a great writer’s prompt, I pulled in to the parking lot. Not only did I find a trinket, a bucking bronco bolo tie, I found books, vests and a community enterprise called Stepping Stones that primarily funds a local shelter. Combined with the local Best American Inn that I signed into for the night, Stepping Stones provided me with a writer’s prompt that produced a poem, and an idea for an anthology, and a focus for my publishing company, Greenleaf Tea Publishing. I will publish books that act as fundraisers for causes I can believe in. The first book has just come to print. Before Tea Tyme, by Beverly Payne, is a collection of fire and rescue stories from the author’s twenty-two years as a paramedic. A significant part of the profit goes directly to fund fire and rescue units. The second book, inspired by Stepping Stones, is Shelterbelt, n. windbreak; a tree or row of trees that provides shelter or prevents erosion. An illustrated anthology, Shelterbelt will provide funds for organizations that provide shelters for the homeless, assist homeless people, or provide assistance to those who are trying to avoid becoming homeless. You can read about it on www.writersbeat.com under the Workshop thread, Shelterbelt,

Do you like to write reviews? Check out http://www.reviewcave.com - We are currently seeking staff members to write reviews, and members in general. Join us!

Writers are invited to submit poetry, short stories and creative non-fiction within the following subjects – crisis and loss, recovery and celebration. Post your pieces under Shelterbelt and Windbreak for discussion, preferably after first posting them in the appropriate forum on Writers Beat for peer review and critique. The submission deadline is September 30, 2006. Each author may submit up to six pages of writing which may include up to 3000 words and/or up to six full pages of poetry in a 10 point font with page margins of one-and-a-half inches. Compensation is limited but you will receive publication credit. I also hope to be able to provide each author with a copy of Shelterbelt from the first printing of the book. I had the good fortune to meet three artists in Arizona who are ready and willing to illustrate books and create cover art. Each showed me several pieces of his or her work and I was bowled over by the quality. One of them, Rocky Smith, will be illustrating the entire book with pen-and-ink drawings. AuthorsLeaf Starting October 1, 2006, there will be a new column in this newsletter called AuthorsLeaf. Established authors, already in print, will serve as our mentors by providing pieces for us to read and ponder. They may speak to us of the writing life, provide poetry or a short story, or an excerpt from their latest work. For our inaugural column, we are privileged to present a new piece of creative nonfiction by Mary Sojourner (Delicate: Stories, Solace: Rituals of Loss and Desire, and Bonelight: Ruin and Grace in the New Southwest) . If you don’t know her work, I recommend you correct the situation. Like the Arizona ecosystem wear she makes her home, Mary Sojourner’s work is delicate and graceful, and yet, her subject matter is gritty and weighted. Reading her work is often like watching the sunrise in the desert just at the moment when the grey dawn begins to tint the landscape in exquisite hues of salmon, pink and ecru. And as the sun comes up above the distant horizon, we are invited to view the bolder strokes of amber, russet and copper layered in the steep and craggy sandstone.

WritersLeaf

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My third mother was relaxed and contented. Her children flown from the nest, she kept home, made us welcome, accepted our wives and husbands, played the role of grandmother as though born to the role. She was a woman who knew how to smile, and when to and why to, and the value a smile could bring. The day after she retired, gangrene in her bowel sent her to hospital, reminding her that life had more blows to deal, but curing her of smoking. My fourth mother died in a hospice, with cancer of the everything. She never lived beyond her three score years and ten, yet managed to look a hundred years old on her death bed. My fifth mother sprang to life after death, when truth began to leak from the family mouths. This is the woman who abandoned her daughters to a children’s home and left her husband to be with my father, with whom she settled and had five children. This is the woman he was unable to marry, because his wife would not grant a divorce. This is the woman who pretended to be his wife, and finally changed her name to his after his death, and I’m reminded of her conversation with the insurance man all those years before. This is the woman who lived a life of lies. A life of sadness. A life of joy. And a life of love. This is the woman to whom I owe everything.

Five Mothers - Non-Fiction Winner (Rob)

Five mothers I’ve had, and I’ve loved them all.

Happy families are all alike; every unhappy family is unhappy in its own way. Some families achieve both. My first mother was kind and gentle, older than most and busier than many, and I shared her with three brothers and a sister. This was the mother who would feed and cloth me, wash and wipe me. This is the mother who would lift me half asleep from the car, wrap me in her arms and lay me in my bed. This was the mother who looked after my father. He lived in the sitting room, you know, next to an oxygen cylinder, and used a commode. My clearest memory of him is sitting on the stony beach at Seasalter on a windy day. He wheezed when he breathed, and smoked his cigarettes. I sat beside him in my shorts and put my hand in his phlegm. My mother was his wife, his nurse and his angel. She didn’t tell us he was dying, just that he was ill. One morning he was gone before we woke up, an empty space where he’d been the night before. I remember my mother crying a few days later. “I’m not crying,” she said, but tears streamed down her cheeks and her voice warbled as she spoke. She was talking to the insurance man, and there was a problem. “I know it’s only nineteen pounds,” she said, “but I’m entitled to it.” I never found out if she got the money, never thought to ask her. I guess in 1969 it seemed like a lot of money. At eight years old, any amount of money seemed like a lot. She told us that a week after he died, he appeared in their bedroom. He was stood at the end of her bed in the middle of the night. “Come to bed, love,” she said. “You’ll get cold stood there.” She said it was his way of letting us know he was okay, that everything was fine where he was. My second mother was even busier than the first. She had five children to bring up on her own. She was a cleaner, you know. She was a poor woman, though she never told us so directly, she would simply say, “Money doesn’t grow on bloody trees.” So she cleaned. She liked to crochet, and to smoke cigarettes. Smoking cigarettes was her only luxury, she told us. She never smoked till she met our father, she said. This is the woman who told me that the only thing she could ever really do for us kids was to make sure we got a good education. And she did. Oh, I know, there’s more to life than education: some people manage fine without it. Still, she saw it as her goal in life, and in that she succeeded. Puberty put us at loggerheads. I stamped my feet, screamed, shouted, and cursed my way through it. That was nothing compared to my younger brother: I didn’t go to court for stealing; I didn’t go to court for beating someone up; I didn’t go to court for ripping a train to pieces; I didn’t go to a youth prison for making a bomb-hoax phone call.

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If you’d like to see your written works on this publication, participate in the contests!

Non-Fiction Winner

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Fiction Winner Gary_Wagner

The Problem Child Mother died today. The moment I saw Memorial Hospital on the caller ID I knew it was Dad and what he was going to tell me. I let it ring until the answering machine picked it up. Always the master procrastinator, I put off the inevitable painful phone conversation and continued to watch the raging blizzard through the living room window. It’s so cold outside, so lonely. So empty. Standing at the window, I saw infinite shades of white. Shrouds of snow were pushed across the frozen, barren landscape by icy, uncaring blasts of arctic air. The low ghostly howl of wind puts sound to the lament that I didn’t yet feel. Debby will arrange the funeral, she’s the planning, organizing, sister. Terry will do whatever he’s told, he’s the obedient brother. Donna will fall apart and collapse into a bowl of quivering jello. She was Mom’s favorite. I’ll stand alone away from others in the crowded funeral home and watch the grief in silence. I’m the problem child. Mom is the first family member to pass since I lost Trudy to cancer fourteen months and three days ago. She would have worked side by side with Debby to help with arrangements, flowers, times, food, and all the rest that goes along with a death and funeral, the things Debby did for me for Trudy’s funeral. Dad will be devastated. Mom took care of the bills, the checking account, the groceries – the details. Dad worked, did whatever Mom wanted, and loved her more than I have ever known anyone to love someone. Donna will probably move out of her apartment and move in with him. He’ll need someone he can take care of; I don’t think he can survive alone. The tiny pellets of sleet-mixed snow accumulating on the window sill remind me of grains of sugar.

Fiction Winner

Family tradition was for Mom to take the girls out to dinner on their birthdays, anywhere they wanted, to eat whatever took their fancy. Dad did the same for the boys, but he had to work late on my eighth birthday, so Mom took me to my chosen restaurant, Bonanza Steak House. I put sugar on my baked potato because I thought it was salt. I ate it anyway and didn’t tell Mom because I was wearing a new royal blue blazer with shiny gold buttons, a red and black striped necktie; I was the man. Silly little boys might do something like that, but men don’t. A sugary potato is a small price to pay for manhood. That was the only time just my mother and I ever went out to eat. Most of the other times she spent alone with me don’t bring back fond memories. Dad worked long, hard hours at the vitamin factory. That left mom to receive the call from my principal, come to the school to discuss trouble I caused, and listen to the litany of complaints from my teachers during parent-teacher conferences. It was her I would sit with on the maroon vinyl-clad seat cushions waiting to go into the principal’s office, and she would be the only person to see me cry. I could pretend to be strong and defiant before she arrived at the school, carry on the charade while waiting with her for the principal, unless I saw tears fill her eyes. She would bring a floral printed, laceedged hanky out of her purse and dab the corner of her eyes. That would open my floodgates. I had caused her grief again, and that hurt more than any punishment the principal could ever dream of. His secretary would step out of the room until I got my sobbing could under control and then step back in and escort us into the principal’s office for his somber lecture and proclamation of punishment.

office, no more shared tears in waiting areas. I finally learned how to play the game. When I shut down my exuberant rambunctious behaviors, I stopped getting in trouble. The cost of suppressing all emotions seemed a bargain at the time. Mom had seen me at my worst and when I locked myself in a quiet, well-behaved little cell, I took more away from her than any other person. I thought I was sparing her and myself from the pain my problems caused us. In reality, I took her youngest son from her and I don’t think she ever fully forgave me for that. Now that she’s gone, I may never be able to forgive myself. I left my vigil of the raging blizzard and went to the kitchen to fix a cup of tea. Moving the boxes in the cupboard out of the way, I spotted a sugar dispenser, just like the one at Bonanza. Trudy must have bought it because I didn’t remember seeing it before. I took it over to the sink and tipped it up. The white crystals of sugar poured out and began to build a little mound in the sink, so much like the snow was piling up outside. I blew across the sugar flow and watched it drift into a pile in the corner of the sink. Big boys don’t cry. Stone-cold teens don’t show emotion. Men suck it up and carry on. I dropped the sugar dispenser as my knees buckled and gave way. I pressed my cheek up against the cool wood of the cabinet door and allowed myself a private moment to be a an ornery eight-year-old boy in a bright blue blazer who just lost the mom he loves more than he was ever able to tell her. It’s all right. Eight year old boys are allowed to cry.

But now she’s gone. If I weep at her funeral, she won’t be the only person to see me cry, she’ll be the only person there that won’t. The trouble stopped when I was twelve. No more calls from the school, no more trips to the principal’s

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Poetry Contest Winner Congratulations Rob for the second winning.

A Meeting Of Lips

Knowing I watch over them as they sleep.

It’s a pleasure to burn, said the sun to the moon, As they met in the sky, one morning in June. It’s a pleasure to shine, and to brighten the Earth, She giggled with glee and vibrated with mirth. It’s a pleasure to rise and to set every day, Banishing night-time, and lighting the way. It’s a pleasure to hang in the sky, bright and round, Casting my warmth and my rays on the ground. She scoffed at the moon, so small and inert, A celestial boulder, covered in dirt.

By Jove, said the sun, tell me more, I’m intrigued, In return I shall give you whatever you need, Day after day, my routine is the same, I’ve waited for years, but nobody came. There’s nothing I want, said the moon, my life’s bliss, Unless, by some chance, you can give me a kiss. I’d like to, but how, I don’t know, said the sun, Leave that to me, said the moon, we’ll have fun. Next time you witness a total eclipse, It’s the sun and moon kissing, a meeting of lips.

We are always seeking new ideas, if you have anything please contact us via the forum system or e-mail.

It’s a pleasure to wait, said the moon with a wink, Watching you fall from the sky as you sink. It’s a pleasure to glow, and reflect in your light, Taking my place as the Lord of the Night. It’s a pleasure to meet with the stars in the sky, Watching them twinkle as I wander by. The people you shine on have visited me, They parked in the Sea of Tranquility, Admired my dust and took samples to keep,

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Poetry Contest Winner

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In Appreciation Thanks to the ENTIRE community, Writer’s Beat is a thriving environment. Donations Thanks to the following for donating their money to the community. It is appreciated

heavily. Rhoda Fort, Jay Harrison, Katherine Minden.

Top Referrer

Five Most Active

Thanks to Oasis Writer for bringing in thirty-one people! Very nice work, thanks a lot.

Oasis Writer - 5.6k posts Kalibantre - 4.1k posts JHarrison - 3.1k posts

Random Thoughts

Dephere - 2.3k posts Titania - 2.2k posts

Staff

http://www.zoints.com (social system used at Writer’s Beat)

Daniel Fischer — CEO/Editor Dephere — Global Moderator JHarrison — Global Moderator/P.R/Marketing Kalibantre — Global Moderator Starrwriter — Global Moderator Aprilrain — Moderator Icarus — Moderator Oasis Writer — Moderator Perfect_Paradox — Moderator Riverstone — Moderator/P.R/Marketing Titania — Moderator

If you’d like to have your link here, please mention it by contacting the staff and we’ll set you up with some “plugs”.

And thanks to all the others that have been with us.

At Writer’s Beat we are always looking for new ideas, new members, and new staff. Please help spread the word of Writer’s Beat. We aim to be the ideal place for any author to be a part of.

Some cool places to check out http://www.reviewcave.com (currently seeking staff members/reviewers)

Contact Us If you’d like to contact the staff there are quite a few ways to do so. The best way is using the contact form on the bottom of the website. Another way is PM the staff member you wish to contact, or you can straight out send me an e-mail at [email protected]

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