Brown Bloody Mucus For A Week Before A Period

A quick appetizer, finally changing my boiler. Surely one of the coldest days. I got up with the snow garden, unfortunately the rain has ended the snow before it can make a fotillo. That yes, from 8 am without heating has led to an invasion of penguins.

hope to make it work but we will migrate to other latitudes.

And this afternoon consultation with the gynecologist, to see how is my baby, I hope to bring great news. I'll tell you and I have a fotillo, which as we have not left a sad echo to teach, hahaha.

hope that you are not going too cold out there.

I leave you with my favorite singer, Ricardo Arjona, and penguins in bed (stating that their duets are not his forte).

Women Refugees Senegal

chicken and turkey meatballs or the importance of a good poultry

The truth is that this week I've been very lethargic for cooking, has collected about the car, my boiler running at times and my returns to be perrete Pochill (which means I get up 3-4 times per night) so I was very tired. Of course, things are solved.

1. On Friday I called the car insurance lawyer told me not to worry that I also present my documentation and also already have filed two parts of the hospital like they do not show any injury so I guess not can see too the coroner.
2. Between Monday and Tuesday I mounted my new boiler. Do not know the desire I have to stop to watch the slightest noise, power shower with constant temperature and to heat and operate at the first (especially with the cold that is doing).
3. And this week I have gynecologist and I hope to give you news of the baby.

now explain the title. To me it is very important to have confidence in the places where I buy meat, poultry and fish. These things do not usually shop in supermarkets, except in cases of force majeure, because I like seeing live parts, choose the cut, ... and that the trays plasticized not me.

Of course, such as meat balls, nothing but sometimes I buy prepared and freeze in case of trouble. In particular these are chicken and turkey, I resultam lighter. Where poultry is bought at a market in the lifetime, and make them know that they only use meat, meat (so to speak). And the truth is that at home, often they do not know if I've done or where I bought. So this recipe has no greater mystery than a good tomato sauce for bread spreads endlessly.

very observant For there are only 11, Mr. House gave a good account before the photo

Ingredients

• 12 chicken meatballs turkey
• 1 can of 250 gr. crushed tomatoes (I use the brand in March which is of Aragon)
• 1 / 2 onion
• 3 cloves garlic
• 2 green peppers
• 1 red pepper (not too big)
• olive oil
• 1 / 2 broth Starlux
• Sugar

Development

First fry the meatballs in abundant olive oil over medium heat so they are done and golden but not burned. The source we will bring with paper towels to remove excess oil and reserve.

itch

While the average onion very thin and will to cook over low heat. We'll chopping the peppers and add to onion. Climb over medium heat and go jumping. When the onion is browned and peppers tender add the sliced \u200b\u200bgarlic. Finally, the crushed tomato, 1 / 2 stock cube and a small teaspoon of sugar to remove the acidity of the tomato. Let cook for 8-10 min. medium heat. We will test and add salt or sugar.

So will the balls and give them a turn to coat in the sauce and heated.

Why Do Cats Put Their Face

My first prize

The truth is that has surprised me a lot, I have to thank Audrey Sweet for remembering me. I recommend that you go for your blog has a bit of everything. I'm supposed to pass it on to 10 blogs but I think it is best to take any of the usual (if you are on my list is that you please me much, lol). And now answer the questions to know me a little more. This is the idea of \u200b\u200bthese awards in the background, right?

1. Why did you create the blog?

The truth is that blogs had long been following a very different type and, remaining unemployed, I thought it was a good idea to create one with my hobbies that make me a little every day. At the moment I have focused in the kitchen but I love clothes, animals, ... and little by little I want to show everything.

2. What kind of blogs do you follow? Majority

those linked to the kitchen, at the moment is what I like to but I read many linked to fashion and animal adoption.

3. What is your favorite makeup brand?

Here I have no doubt, Dior. Is the most respected my skin, I have more natural and less noticeable. And it lands Guerlain.

4. Essential makeup products.

Lipstick, cocoa or gloss. Without some of it I can not leave.

5. Favorite perfume.

Delicias de Cartier.

6. Favorite clothing brand.

Here I must say I am extremely unfaithful, I buy what I like and fits me and what my finances allows me so my wardrobe has a bit of everything.

7. Is your favorite color?

Phew, this really is complicated for me. Everything depends, in any case it is easier to say that I like all depends on the time of the season ... yes, I'm not missing the white, black and red on any garment.

8. Is the movie that you like best?

Pocketful of miracles in Frank Capra, is a film that I love but is best known What a Wonderful Life.

9. What country would like to know?

Many, but I'd love to get to know Spain.

And now the prize is you want.

Besic.

Black Itchy Spots On Legs

Chicken breast with pineapple and curry sauce

Mr.

Unfortunately the house can not come to lunch at noon and usually as a single. For me it is a problem because I do not like too cook for one person or that my remaining thousand leftovers for the fridge.

Today I woke up thinking about chicken and pineapple, but again only one so I've been looking for different sites any recipe that convinced me. Eventually I stumbled upon this recipe for chicken with pineapple and curry blog Temptations. I thought fast, easy and, above all, applicable to a single person. It has been very little that I have changed the original recipe and I can say that I love, I'll no doubt repeat.

Ingredients (1 person)

• 2 chicken breast fillets
• 1 small can pineapple natural
• Sal
Curry
• olive oil

Development

We put a few drops of warm olive oil in a nonstick skillet and brown them in it 3 slices of pineapple. In the tin leaving 4 and I booked for the sauce. Once browned, without adding more oil, fry the chicken fillets. We reserve all in one dish.

To prepare the sauce, pour the liquid from the can into the skillet in which we have golden pineapple and chicken. Add a pinch of curry and we have reserved the slice into pieces. Let reduce over medium heat until it is as a kind of sweet.

and ready to serve, put the pineapple slices and brown the chicken with the sauce.

As you'll see, I've included two slices of bread with raisins, nuts and orange. I love this bread, I buy into slices and freeze. So use it when I really feel like. The bakery is spectacular, the problem is that you take with you into everything. Not if the people of Zaragoza will know, is called The Petit Croissant but I recommend both for the variety of breads and pastries as for his stuff saladas. 

Shannon Whirry Fotos 2010

The first sensation was pain, as if they were injecting a thick fluid throughout the body, part by part. The pain gave way to some chills that made electrically set me on the couch, every muscle, every nerve ending break open a shaking frenzy. The phenomenon should not have lasted more than five minutes, but in me a strange sense of perpetuity, I suggested it would never cease. Then, step by step I could go back control of my limbs. Arms, legs, hands, fingers began to obey my thoughts, although a slight confusion made the task difficult. It was not until the confusion ceased I could open my eyes. The intensity of light emitted white four areas were firmly ingrained within a metal ring hanging from the ceiling, just above me, made repeatedly blink until my eyes were getting used to the brightness and my eyelids began to move normally .


After a while, I noticed that was not tied to a stretcher, as I had originally thought, due to the clumsiness moving my limbs, that something was imprisoned. I sat up to sit on the cold shiny steel plate, which was my bed at that time. I found that I was naked and that each parts of my body were in perfect condition, just as I remembered from the last time he had been aware. I turned to my right and left legs hanging towards the ground.
- Is everything OK? Asked a voice that I could not determine where it came from.
I do not know, "I said it seems so, although I have my head dizzy.
"It's normal in a few moments you will be like new.
- Who are you? I asked.
"A friend.
- Where are you? I see your face.
From a corner that remained bathed in shadows appeared a man of little stature, stuffed figure, brown hair and beard streaked with white, short uneven.
"I do not know, you're not my friend, I got angry.
"It really do not know me, but that does not mean it is not your friend," she smiled.
- What do you want from me?
"Nothing.
- What I do in this office?
- Office? -Will miss the chubby man. This is not an office.
The stranger walked a few steps toward the door and turned on the lights in the room. In front of me had a large wooden desk, quite old and full of papers, books and a small laptop. Behind him a library, packed with hundreds of books, rose to an imposing appearance. Next to the table, almost stuck to the wall was a soft chair and a lamp, both rested on one of those colorful Persian carpets. Actually I had not lied to this man, there seemed no way an office. Then I looked down trying to determine if the metal table, lying on the sitting, was such. Great was my surprise to see that this was not a stretcher, but was equal to a chair in front of me and not only that praised me, I also was incomprehensible to see that was not naked but was dressed in casual clothes.
"Sorry, I have been very rude to you," said the man walking toward me and extending his right hand, "my name is Fernando.
"A more relaxed like I said and shook his hand," my name is ...
At that time I was devastated, confused and some idiot, I could not remember my name, Fernando seemed to notice my distress and smiled paternally.
"Relax, do not seem to remember your name.
-No.
-not remember your name because you are not name.
- How? I exclaimed.
-just do not have.
"But my parents put me name?
"No," serious, "your father gave you no name. But that does not matter, what matters is that you are well and you can solve that problem and some major.
- More Important? Fernando
walked slowly to the other chair, sat down and after thinking for a few moments gave me a serious look.
"Your father is not a good person," he said gravely, "you have brought to life to play with you. First gave you everything you need to be happy, then you took all that and even more: your health, your family, your love. After you laughed again and gave back what I had removed. But the last time you could not stand it, so much hatred generated you see depends on their moods, their irony, of its arbitrariness and cruelty, why not say "you tried to commit suicide. But I rescued you, to use his own words, with a hint of pride, certainly, and vainglory. He also wanted to play with me, wanted to stop by my friend offered me friendship and cookies sprinkled with mates, but I have not swallowed the bait, so now I leave you free, so you can charge your revenge, do justice to the real monster .
- What do you call my father? I asked, my mind came together as a stampede River of memories, images that I returned to reality and confirming the word by word said Fernando. Giaccone
-Juan Manuel replied quickly and that name stuck in my heart like an arrow poisoned with a potion that oozed hatred.
- Ah, you bastard, I'll kill you! I shouted angry but my anger was transformed in a few seconds in distress. No ... no power ... I'm not going to be evicted, "I repeated.
- Why not? Fernando asked, guessing my thoughts. "Because again
will disappear from history.
"It will not power," said quiet.
- Why, I did once?
"Well, this may not be able, for I returned to life and now it's just me I can take you. And believe me, Beast, I do not do it.
then smiled satisfied, I realized that revenge was a question of time. Sure would be too easy to kill and would not be consistent with the cruelty with which I had handled.
Since then I have spent all my time planning the revenge. I will not rest, with the help of my friend, of course, until such discredit that Giaccone, they all laughed at his stories and is considered the worst of the writers of the network. I'll tear it, not with my claws, but with my words.

Cessna 172 Labeled Cockpit

Blue Fairy

of Marguerite Yourcenar

merchants from Europe were sitting on the bridge, facing the blue sea, the indigo shade of gray patchwork sails patched . The sun constantly changing place between the ropes and, with the rolling of the ship, seemed to be jumping around like a ball that bounced over a very open mesh network. The ship had to turn constantly to avoid the pitfalls and the pilot, aware of the maneuver, he stroked his chin blue.
At dusk, the merchants landed on a paved shore white marble, blue veins streaked the surface of the large slabs that once were covered with temples. The shadow that each of the merchants dragged behind him on the road, walking in the direction of sunset, was more elongated, narrower and not as dark as at high noon, his tone, a very pale blue, reminded the dark circles that extend under the eyelids of a patient. In the white domes of mosques Mirrored blue markings, like tattoos on a delicate heart, from time to time, a turquoise was clear by its own weight of wood paneling and fell with a thud on the carpet and pale blue spring.


She got the moon and launched an erratic dance like a devilish spirit, between the conical tombs of the cemetery. The sky was blue, like the tail of a mermaid's scales, and the Greek merchant was in the mountains lining the horizon bare a resemblance to the shallow blue group and the Centaurs.

All concentrated their shining stars inside the palace women. Merchants entered the courtyard to keep out the wind and sea, but women, frightened, refused to receive them and skinned them in vain to force their hands to call the steel doors, gleaming like a leaf sable.

So intense was the cold, the Dutch merchant lost all five fingers of his left foot, the Italian merchant fingers amputated on his right hand a turtle that he had taken in the dark, by a simple cabochon lapis lazuli. Finally, a nigger out of the palace crying and explained that, night after night, the women rejected his love for not being sufficiently dark skin. The Greek merchant was able to ingratiate himself with the black thanks to the gift of a talisman made of dried blood and dirt of a cemetery, so the Nubian brought them into a large living overseas and recommended color for women who do not speak too high to avoid awaken the camels in his stable and are unaffected by snakes suck Moonlight milk.

merchants opened their coffers to the greedy eyes of the slaves, in the midst of fragrant blue smoke, but none of the women answered their questions and princesses did not accept his gifts. In a room full of gold, a china wearing an orange jumpsuit branded as the impostors, because they offered the rings became invisible at the touch of your skin yellow. None noticed the presence of a woman dressed in black, sitting on the end of a corridor, and as he inadvertently stepped on the folds of her skirt, she cursed them by invoking the blue sky in the language of the Tartars, invoking the sun the Turkish language, and invoking the sand in the language of the desert. In a room covered in cobwebs, the merchants were not answered with another woman, dressed in gray, which could be felt constantly to make sure that there was, in the next room, scarlet, merchants fled to the sight of a woman in red who was bleeding from a large open wound in the chest, although she seemed not to notice, because her dress was not even spotting.

were able to hide out in the wing where there were kitchens and deliberated about the best way to reach the cavern of sapphires. Constantly bothered by the bustle of the water carriers, and a mangy dog \u200b\u200bwas licking the stump Blue Italian merchant, who had lost fingers. At last, they saw the stairs from the cellar of a slave girl who had crushed ice in a cloudy crystal Glazed bowl, set it down without looking where, on a column of air, to let your hands free and able to wave, lifting up front, where the star tattooed mages. His blue-black hair flowing from his temples to his shoulders, his blue eyes looked at the world through two tears, and her mouth was only a wound blue. Her lavender dress, with fine fabric wash faded by tired, I was torn at the knees, because the girl was accustomed to prostrate themselves in prayer and made him constantly.

not matter that he did not understand the language merchants, he was deaf, so he merely nodded his head gravely when they inquired how to get to the treasure in a mirror showing her eyes the color of gem and then pointing his steps in the dust of the corridor. The Greek merchant offered her charms: the girl had rejected them as they made a happy woman, but with a bitter smile of a desperate woman, the Dutch merchant handed him a bag full of jewelry, but she bowed with hands rolling the poor dressed all broken, and they were unable to guess if it is deemed too indigent or too rich to such splendor.

Then with a blade of grass lifted the latch the door and found themselves in a courtyard inside round like a bucket filled to the edges of the cold morning light. The young man used his finger to open the second door into the plain, one after another, they headed inside the island by a road bordered by clumps of aloe. The shadows of the merchants were glued to their heels, which seven small black snakes, while the girl was devoid of any shade, which gave them to think about whether it would be a ghost.

hills, blue distance, turned black, brown or gray as it approached, however, the merchant of Touraine did not lose courage and give courage to sing songs of French soil. The Castilian merchant received twice the sting of a scorpion and his legs were swollen knee and took a ripe eggplant color, but did not seem to feel pain and even walked over safer and more solemn than the others, as if supported by two thick pillars of basalt blue. The Irish merchant, seeing how pale beaded drops of blood on the heels of the girl who walked barefoot on helmets china and broken glass.

When they reached the site, had to crawl on their knees to enter the cave opened to the world not just a narrow mouth and cracked. The cave was, however, more spacious of what had been expected and so their eyes had become good friends with the darkness everywhere discovered fragments of sky between the cracks of the rock. A very pure lake occupied the center of the basement, and when the Italian merchant threw a pebble to calculate the depth, not heard her fall, but bubbles are formed on the surface, like a siren suddenly desperate to have expelled all the air filled your lungs. The Greek merchant dipped their greedy hands in that water and dyed to the wrists, pulled as if it were the boiling vat of a shark, but failed to grab the sapphires that rowed, which fleets nautilus, denser those waters that the seas. Then, she undid her long braids and hair dipped in the lake: Sapphires are set on them as in a dark silky mesh network. Called first to the Dutch merchant, who got the precious stones in the leggings, then, the French merchant, who filled the slashing of sapphires, the Greek merchant crammed a bottle that led to the Castilian merchant, tearing sweaty leather gloves, the filled and put them round the neck, in such a way that seemed to have both hands cut off. When it was the turn of the Irish merchant, and sapphires were not in the lake, the slave girl took off a necklace of beads and carrying signs will ordered that he be put on the heart.

came out crawling on the cave and the girl asked the Irish merchant to help her roll a great stone to end the inning. Then, put a seal made with a little clay and a strand of her hair.

The way they were made longer than the morning round. The Castilian merchant, who began to suffer because of his legs poisoned, he staggered and swore by invoking the name of the Mother of God. The Dutch merchant, who was hungry, tried to wrest the blue ripe figs from a fig tree, but a swarm of bees hidden in the thick syrupy deeply stung in the throat and hands.

reached the bottom of the walls, the group took a detour to avoid the guards and walked quietly to the port of fishermen of sirens, which was always desert, for a long time ago that no sirens were already fishing that country. The boat floated gently into the water, attached to the toe of bronze, the only remains of a once colossal statue erected in honor of a god that no one remembered the name. In the spring, the slave was deaf intention of saying goodbye to the men, waving his hands placed on the heart, then, the Greek merchant took her by the wrists and dragged her into the boat, moved by the purpose of selling Venetian Prince Negroponte, who knew that he liked women injured or suffering from any disability. The girl was carried away without a fight and tears, falling on the wooden bridge, were transformed into beautiful aquamarine, so their killers managed to give reasons why it did mourn.

The left naked and tied to the mast, her body was so white that the ship served as a beacon in the night clear sailing between the islands. When they had finished their game of sticks, the merchants went down to the cabin to go to sleep. Towards dawn, the Dutch took the bridge spurred by the desire and went to the prisoner, willing to violating it. But behold, the girl had disappeared: the bands hung, empty, black trunk of the mast, like a belt too wide, and where his feet had touched soft and thin there was nothing but an aromatic herb mantoncito which gave off a humble blue.

In the days after a dead calm prevailed, and the rays of the sun, which fell perpendicularly upon the smooth color of algae, producing a squeal of hot iron dipped in cold water. The Castilian merchant's gangrenous legs had turned blue as the mountains that are discerned on the horizon and spills purulent slid from the tables of bridge to the sea. When suffering became intolerable, the man pulled a large knife belt and severed triangular up to the thighs of both legs poisoned. Died exhausted at dawn, after the merchant Sapphires legacy their Swiss, who was his mortal enemy.

After a week called at Smyrna and the merchant of Touraine, who had always feared the sea, he chose to land, intending to continue their journey on the back of a good mule. Armenian banker sapphires changed his ten thousand coins with the effigy of Prester John. They were perfectly round pieces and uploaded Frenchman happily with them until thirteen mules, but, so I came to Angers, after seven years of travel, was surprised to find that the currencies of the monarch did not give way in his country.

In Ragusa, the Dutch merchant traded its sapphires and a pitcher of beer served at the same dock, but had to spit that insipid liquid that he had thrown the same taste as the beer tavern in Amsterdam. The Italian merchant landed in Venice in order to make himself Dogo, but died murdered the day after his marriage to the lagoon. As for the Greek merchant, came to a tie out sapphires and suspend over the side of the boat, waiting for contact with the waves off its beautiful color beneficial blue. When wet, gems became liquid and hardly added to the treasure of the sea a few drops of clear water. The man was comforted catching fish and roasting to smoldering ashes.

One evening, after twenty-seven days of sailing, the ship was attacked by a privateer. The Merchant of Basel swallowed his sapphires to removing them from the greed of the pirates and died in appalling pain guts. Greek, jumped into the sea and was picked up by a dolphin, which led to Tinos. The Irishman, beaten to a pulp, was left for dead in the boat, among the corpses and empty bags, no one bothered to remove the false stone pendant blue I had no value. Thirty days later, the boat went adrift on its own in the port of Dublin and Irish dismounted to beg for a piece of bread.

was raining. The sloping roofs of houses for low suggesting large mirrors to capture the ghosts of the dead light. The uneven pavement is puddled more and more, the sky a dirty brown, looked so muddy that even the angels would have dared to leave the house of God, the streets were deserted, the position of a traveling draper who sold socks raw wool and shoelaces, he looked left at the edge of a sidewalk under an umbrella. Kings and bishops carved in the porch of the cathedral did nothing to prevent rain falling on their crowns or mitres, and the Magdalene received water in their bare breasts.

The merchant, all discouraged, he sat down under the porch next to a young beggar, so poor that his body, bluish cold, you could see through the tears in her gray dress. His knees knocked together slightly, his fingers covered with chilblains pressed a piece of bread. The merchant asked for the love of God who gave it, and she laid him in the act. The merchant wanted to give her the blue beads hanging because they do not Have it nothing else to offer, nothing more reached into his pocket, around your neck, between the beads of his rosary. Not finding him, she began to mourn heartbroken: no longer possessed anything that might remind you of the color hue of the sky and the sea where he had been about to perish.

sighed deeply and, as dusk and the cold fog thickened around, the girl was snuggled against him to keep her warm. The man asked him questions about the country and she replied in the rude dialect of the people who left long ago, while still very young. So aside shaggy hair covering the face of the beggar, but was so dirty that the rain was making in the regueritos white, and the merchant discovered with horror that the girl was blind and an ominous cloud covered the left eye. He left for it, however, laid his head on those bad knees covered in rags and slept calm: the right eye, which had been deprived of sight, was miraculously blue.

Difference Between Hair Bumps And Genital Warts

LITERARY WORKSHOP: Sins of beginner

These are the mistakes that usually fall to start writing:

Cacophony:
sounds are repeated abuse hearing. To remedy these singsong, just reread the text aloud and find synonyms for words with the same end.
USE
the gerund:
special attention should be paid to the use of the gerund since, used to excess, produces a slow, heavy pace.
"It is wrong to use the gerund after, that is, one that indicates an action after the main verb.
"The teacher left the class found the director."
-is also incorrect to use the gerund when accompanying direct add things, and indicates action or change:
"I saw a whirling ball.
" Neither is correct usage of the gerund with names based on the indirect or circumstantial.
"I bought my mom flowers to celebrate their holy"
"The gerund not be used:
a) As specified adjective referring to things
" This is the order determining the structure "
b) As a model that means quality or state.
"I offer dog knowing hunt


abstract vocabulary:
When you start typing, the use of abstract language is almost inevitable. However, you have to do without the big words: Truth, Freedom, Destiny ... In a story is over. Not help the understanding of history, do not explain the background of the argument, or do not explain, rather, as it should be, in which characters are involved.
In this sense, it psychological vocabulary without depression, was not motivated, it was a family tension ... On one side is that, of more or less technical words not involving the emotion of the reader. On the other hand, say a character who is depressed is too pale a summary: what makes that character, what they think, what they remember, what you try to forget ... all that is what the text should give us, rather than a clinical diagnosis.
is also a common mistake to count things in the abstract. For example:
"That morning, Peter was balanced, optimistic and confident"
"That morning, Peter closed his house a bang, without worrying about lock up and tap-dancing down the stairs "
In the first sentence the reader is asked to process three concepts: balance, optimism, security.
In the second, you are invited to observe a character is described in a scene.
All concepts of the first sentence are present, such as shares in the second. In looking at what makes the character, the reader will induce, also how it feels. The first sentence bored. The second entertains the eyes, gives task to the ears, and awaken curiosity. The first is a summary and abstract, while the second phrase is descriptive and specific.
therefore, should "see" the story before you write it. Close your eyes and imagination projected onto the scene by scene, the film will shoot with that argument. Addressing the story as a description as detailed as possible, those images that have passed before us. PD

Look what you do in life verbal, if you have to tell your spouse that your child has misbehaved, not comentaís: this boy is bad. Le comentaís a fact: This morning I did not want to wash, and had breakfast and I threw the laundry out the window and has bitten the cat.

assertive style:
Beside this abuse of the abstract, it is common style for small accounts assertive. And sometimes, it is necessary to affirm or deny, without further ado or fuss.
But in general the nuances, the almost, perhaps, an air of indecision in the narrator's voice, contribute greatly to the credibility of the story. "Almost, at times, a little, perhaps, it seemed, as it were, ..." better than these: "always, all, no doubt, was ..."
If I tell the story of a character kind is likely to end up telling that: the misfortunes of virtue bulletproof. And maybe, if I am good, I get that strain. But it's hard. A story like "the good, the bad, the silly, the ready-bit is set to our experience. A kind person who has, however, a weakness, it is much more credible and enlivens the narrative passage. A story that confirms what we already knew - "X is a saint" - falls on the monotonous. But if we start with "X is almost a saint," appears to holy '... if we pose the story from almost, of what has come to test their holiness, and have a dramatic core, a focus of action and interest.

emphatic style:
Another very common fault is the emphatic style. And although it is an error with some pedigree-usually denotes wealth of vocabulary and verbal ability, you should avoid at all costs. We refer mainly to the hype. For example:
"He cry startled him "
" Your bowels quaked at that awesome scream that tore his ears. "
When looking for a relief effect will be to work from the contrast. For the reader to hear that cry, for example, should play from a few sentences before, with very slight sounds: the rustle of the curtain in a window, the ticking of a clock off ...

IRONY:
is the strongest action to highlight something, a gesture, an action an idea.
Some issues may require serious treatment. But a note of humor, an ironic touch, give vibrancy to any story. And support its plausibility. Without a counterpoint distance between racks without the mockery that is the irony, the stories, even that move, charge a little.

MATCHING THE TEXT:
The anaphora, and the reason cataphoric are essential resources, there is no story without them, and generally use very little. Because maybe it makes sense that a story begins with the start and finish at the end. However, in an artistic text that logic does not matter. In the story, rather than linear, interested in organic. And a body is that, a set of interrelated elements. Anaphora and cataphoric
are simple resources. Anaphoric call all phrases that repeat, remind, mention, earlier passages of the same story. Cataphoric which are anticipated, a more or less explicit, the facts that follow.
On the other hand, as another resource of the first order, although more difficult to grasp is the reason. The reasons are not concepts that should appear throughout the story. They are not ideas but things. They might say, a few items that we place strategically on the set of history.
An example: suppose we try to write a story about a divorce. Well, the argument can go either way, but we will have them appear in the course of the narrative, a roadblock, pruning shears, a bridge that threatens to collapse, few days of sun in mid-January, an odd glove, a broken sleep at midnight, a returned letter has not reached its destination, a song whose end has forgotten some of the characters ...
All these are reasons. Things and concrete actions that will strengthen the main idea of \u200b\u200bthe story.
Without cataphoric anaphora and without motives, the story progresses in a vacuum. Should build according to that old story narrative consists Leninist: two steps forward, one step back. It should be noted that the reasons are important because the information provided by the text tends to disappear, to fade, and the reason is an allusion, an indirect signal, an effect redundancy, which is constantly reminding the reader what it is there.

ARCHIPELAGO THE STORY:
action emerges in a few islands, without a visible link that one, and it is as if history had been inside, drowned in the author's intention. This failure can only be addressed with the text before, chasing the threads of the plot, but due to an error of perspective that is also among the singers novel: the more you listen to oneself, the better resonates within their own voice, less is heard from outside. The technique of singing, like the story, is to project the sound. You have to sing as if you were sitting among the public.
must write from the place of the reader.
often difficult to take away their own text, focus on that story as if it were theirs, and ask the questions that the reader would. But therein lies the art.