Everybody needs a brag page. Or a bookshelf, or a trophy display case, or something. C'mon, even serial killers tend to keep little boxes of molars or left shoes or something to help them remember what they've done. Me, I know it's bad tradecraft to do things like that, and my cover sure doesn't allow me to have anything on display in my home, but I couldn't...quite...resist. I have a web page, a web page that I designed as best I could to keep people away and not interested in it, but still, a web page. I keep the appearance trapped in the early '90s, I put in the code to chase away search engine spiders, and I only update it in anonymized browsers at places other than my own home. Heck, I only ever update it from places that I've never been before and never will visit again. Had to delay updating once because I liked the bakery's croissants so much that I wanted to be able to go back. I called it "The Selected Works of..." and gave it a name that I've never used as an alias and never will, although I confess I do have a certain fondness for it now. It'll confuse anybody who sees it, because the links and the text I post don't mention the name I used on the website anywhere.


Inspiration: Random web page generator landed me on http://www.mattneuman.com/
Story potential: High.
Notes: I like the idea, but what would a person be doing to have to do this? Esp. since I'd want to keep this in the spec-fic category?

The mobile search activated as soon as she realized that he hadn't just left her; he'd taken her research with him. That research was something he wasn't even supposed to know about, and realizing that he did made her wonder what else he knew that he wasn't supposed to--and what she didn't know that she ought to have. Because her prototype was working already, she found him within 30 seconds--about four hundred feet higher in the air than her research showed anything being. It scared her, a little. Was the opposition good enough, far enough ahead of them that that was even possible? Was there another group involved that she didn't know the existence of? What was going on? Maybe there was a flaw in her calculations, and the y axis--

Inspiration: An article about a mobile phone search.
Story Potential: Low.
Notes: Ugh. What a clunky mess.

The address book was missing. He noticed that as soon as he stepped into the room, and his blood chilled. Nobody else would have thought that he had just lost his address book--there it was, sitting on the bed, plain as day. If the person looking had thought about it for a while, and had seen his apartment before, they might eventually have realized that the hand-knotted rug he kept under his desk was gone. It was only one with the knowledge of the knots and the stories that could be spun and tied into them that would realize the value of what he'd been keeping as a kick-rag. He hadn't done it just to protect the address book from discovery; it was a part of his part that he'd prefer not to think about. He sent his family plain, non-coded letters twice a year, and he moved often enough that if they sent a response, it would be--

Inspiration: Sitting with my address book on my lap.
Story Potential: High!
Notes: This could be quite good, I think. Not sure which influence will out in terms of the knotwork--seacraft, Persian, or something as yet uncreated? Could be fun.