Showing posts with label short story. Show all posts
Something old and something new.
Wednesday, December 24, 2008
In light of losing my files, from which I'm still weeping, I have started a brand spanking new writing project. I aim for it to be a full-length novel. My new years resolution is to have the first draft finished by April. That is the most reasonable date to me as I start school afresh in about two weeks. With this new idea I'm trying out a new approach to my writing. Planning! I usually never plan anything out. I just start writing. This time I figure, what could it hurt? Nothing. In fact I'm doing pretty well so far. I've planned out the first five chapters, worked on the plot and my main characters all day. I've started writing my first chapter and I'm looking to get at least 2,000 more words down tonight. That should finish up the first chapter.
That was the something new.
Now to the old.
I was looking through my saved emails today, you know cleaning out the riffraff, when I came across an email of my short story that I'd sent myself so I could work on it at my mom's computer (you know, when my computer isn't around). I was so excited that I hadn't lost all of it. I don't have the end, but I didn't like the original ending anyway so now I can change it when I get to that part in the rewrite. Woohoo!
In light of my good mood about recovering my lost work I will leave you with a scene from said work. Keep in mind this is the first draft and unedited.
Realm of the Demon Souls: Two Months Earlier
Vigilo thought about his
daughter a lot these days. As much as he
wanted to see her, he knew it would
only cause trouble for her.
It was at one of these times when he was
thinking about his daughter
that he felt a presence near him. A Master
should feel it in his being when
someone enters his world, but this time it
was different. Someone was watching
him from inside his Realm without
alerting him first.
Well, this is a first, he thought to himself. He
looked about his room
for anything out of place. In the far side of the
room, he spotted a tiny
floating orb. It seemed to dance and take shape
before his eyes.
He thought quickly through the possibilities of the
origin of the
mysterious orb. Low-level Demons simply do not have the skill
to perform light
magic, especially on a Realm Master. Demon Lords have
neither the time nor
patience to deal in such trivial affairs. “No,” he said
aloud, “must be Angel
mockery.” Angels shouldn’t be able to pass through
three worlds completely
undetected, just one of those impossibilities. He
laughed despite himself. For
all he knew it could just be Gerulus, trying to
get a rise out of him. Besides,
he was a Master, not easily intimidated or
conquered.
Vigilo found himself watching the orb again in spite of his
musings.
This time, he noticed, it did take shape. It took on a form that,
even though he
hasn’t laid eyes on in years, he’d never mistake for anything
else. His
daughter. He watched motionless as her every feature etched into
the light.
“Alexandera,” he said barely discernible to his own ears. As the
word passed his
lips, he heard a faint laughter and the image and orb were
gone. For the first
time in his two-hundred odd years as a Master Demon, he
was afraid. Not just for
his daughter’s life, but for is own, as well.
He immediately sent out for the messenger, Gerulus, his old friend, but
immediately in Demon time isn’t always instantaneous. He knew it could be a
while before Gerulus had time to get around to his request. Just as the
signal
left his lips, he felt the force of several beings pass through his
Realm. He
knew they would come for him, quickly, after he sent for Gerulus.
Vigilo
scribbled a note, and hid it in a place where he knew only Gerulus
would find
it. Whatever happens, he wrote, help her.
Thank you, my friends, and Happy Holidays!
Free Writing and the Art of the Prompt-- Things I do when I'm supposed to be working on my short story.
Wednesday, December 10, 2008
Writing prompts are my new favorite thing!
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Last night I was reading the January issue of the Writer magazine, and they have an entire page devoted to writing prompts and warm-ups, I could not resist the urge to try one out.
It had been awhile since I'd used a writing prompt. The last time I used one was in my creative writing class in the 7th grade (yes, that long ago!).
So I had to finish a paragraph that began with:
The freezer door wasn't supposed to lock behind him. That wasn't part of the plan.Yeah that was how it was supposed to start. I did more than just a paragraph. I wrote 486 words. I thought that it turned out to be a pretty interesting story for something I wrote in 15 minutes so I decided to share it with y'all.
The freezer door wasn't supposed to lock behind him. That wasn't part of the plan. This was to be an in-and-out deal. Quick and consequence free. Today was just not John's day. Well, the whole week wasn't his really. The week started out with everyday, mundane disappointments. Those he could deal with easy, but what he got was just...wrong.He'd thought he caught a break midweek when that guy who owns the restaurant on the corner took pity on him and offered him a job. He soon found that it would be all down hill from that point on. Exhibit one of his sucky week is when he saw his ex-wife who was accompanied by his once best friend and their child. Last that he’d heard they'd moved and now, out of the blue, they're stalking around his usual haunts. Of course, he didn't let himself be seen, not by them at any rate.Then, he got the job offer, and he hoped his luck was turning. The universe was not up for giving breaks, not for him, it seemed. Two days into his new job, and he's stuck in a freezer. Not because he was hard at work, no, it was because he was up to nefarious deeds. He was planning to steal just enough food to get him by for the rest of the week. Never mind the fact that he worked in a restaurant and if asked the owner would probably gladly let him get a little something. I mean, he had hired him, right?Now, sitting in that freezer, John's mind wanted to give one final blow before the day was done. John hadn't taken a hit of anything since he divorced. He promised his ex that he'd stop. That was the one thing she wanted from him when she left, that he'd let go of his self-destructive ways, and be the man she knew before the clouds blocked his ascension toward his dreams. She wanted him to remember a time before he felt that his world weighted him down and anchored him to reality. This is why he took his first hit of the moonrock because when he was high he could see through those clouds to his dreams. Sure, they were unreachable, but they were there nonetheless. He didn't see his dreams within the confines of this freezer, the restaurant, or the world. He couldn't even find his dreams within himself.He was starting to feel the cold, but he didn't get up and try the door again. He didn't bam on the door and scream for help, either. It was closing time and most of the staff had already left. He knew that no one would have a reason to go to the freezer at this time, that's why he picked it for his stealing time. Instead, he sat and froze, and, right before the end, felt weightless once again.
It was not what I expected to write, but I am happy with where the story went.
Thank you, my friends, and be looking out for Episode 1 of my blopera!
Of Prologues and Prefaces
Thursday, November 27, 2008
I have recently noticed that I always start my writing with a prologue. I think I've not done it only once since I started this whole 'writing to be published' endeavor. Anyway, I was thinking to myself why I always start this way, and I think I may have the answer.
I start writing with very vague details about the main character. From those details I construct a prologue to cement the main conflict in my mind. You see, I don't do it for the reader I do it so that as I'm writing I can go back and read the prologue to make sure I'm on the right track of where the story is supposed to be headed.
Another reason, I thought of, that could be why I start with a prologue is just to have a starting point. Did that make an sense? Let me explain. Instead of writing words that come into my head I write scenes and dialogue as I see and hear them, played out like a movie, in my mind. So that prologue would sort of be the voice over during the opening credits. It just seems very off to me to start with dialogue.
Now that I've got it figured out I ask myself, since I don't do it for the reader, in the final copy, do I leave the prologue out or do I let it stay?
I just thought for fun's sake I'll post the prologue to the still untitled short story that I've been talking about forever. Here goes.
Alexandera could feel them touching her. Like spider webs across the skin. Light and eerie. There have been so many coming through Demon souls. So far, they didn’t know she could see them, feel them. She wondered if it was just her or if the mortal skin around her could feel, too. If those same mortal eyes can see them, beautiful and devastating.
Someone- something- left the gates unguarded.
Alexandera shouldn’t know these things, but her father made sure she knew what she was before he left. Half-demon, half-human. Hell on Earth. Most half-breeds don’t survive, but Alexandera’s father kept her safe. It was her father, Vigilo’s job to keep the souls in their realm, the fifth of the seven hidden worlds. Why they were out now could only mean that he was in trouble; something was letting them out. There were only two beings who knew how to take them back into the hidden worlds. Vigilo and Alexandera. She would have to find him or risk her life and the life of her mother to save Earth, the Fourth World, Realm of the Mortals.
Enjoy my friends, and have a great day!
Working Overtime
Tuesday, July 29, 2008
I've been writing a short story. I'm really liking it. I think I might actually finish it.
Again, as always, I'm taking a break from "the novel," if I can even call it that at this point.
I'm going to be writing non-stop so that I can try and finish it before I go back to school because I know for sure that I won't get to work on it if I wait that long.
I am disaapointed that my progress on "the novel" has slowed to a crawl, no worse than that. What's slower than a crawl?
Hopefully I'll be a little more motivated when I finish this short story (which could end up as "the novel"). I like it so much.
Maybe I'll post a little snipit in the coming days.
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