February 25, 2011
“It’s hard to explain.” he whispered back in his deep Irish brogue.
“Well, try!” I said urgently.
“Alright. You remember the Uncle I told you about? The one in the IRA?”
“Yes, I remember.”
“Well, last Monday he called me up and asked me to help him with some work he had. He just moved to America so I figured it had to do with unpacking.” He stopped for a minute, trying to gather his thoughts.
“Let me guess, he didn’t need help unpacking.” I prompted when he remained silent.
“No he didn’t. He asked me to drive him to the bank with a couple of his friends. I feel like such a fool now, that I didn’t realize he was gonna rob the damn place. When they got back into the car, this alarm started going crazy. My uncle put a gun to my head and told me to drive. I didn’t have a choice; he would’ve killed me in a heartbeat.” He looked down at his feet in shame.
“Well the FBI will understand! It’s like you said, you had no choice! We’ll just go and talk to Special Agent Victor Lane and we will get everything straightened out.”
“It’s not that easy.” Fallon said, looking miserable. “If we go to the police my uncle will have me killed and anyone I’m involved with.” He gave me a sidelong glance. “That means you.”
“Then we will just have to run away together. We can go to California or Wyoming. I don’t care as long as I’m with you.”
He finally gave me a small smile and nodded his head slowly. “I suppose it wouldn’t be so bad.”
“Let’s get out of this joint!” I exclaimed. I grabbed Fallon by the hand and rushed as fast as I could through the crowded pub. When we were finally on the sidewalk, we linked arms and walked back to my apartment to pack. I told Fallon to wait across the street and hurried up the stairs, two at a time.
This is an excerpt from my third story about a man being hunted by the FBI. I feel like this is a lame reason. Any Suggestions?
He looked into the mirror and his reflection stared back; boring black eyes under a mop of unruly black hair. At barely 5’3”, he had to be the shortest senior -scratch that- shortest guy in his entire high school. He also happened to be the only one without a cell phone, girlfriend, or friend at that matter. At least, he thought, I can move out now that I’m eighteen, although deep within, John knew he would never have the courage to cut himself away from his safe but sorry current life.
He found a black package taped to the door. John groaned. It was probably another video game from his father. He was right. He was about to toss it in his pile of seventeen other video games when he read the title. “The Adventures of John’s Quest to the Truth”, it read. He frowned; of course his father would get a video game like this.
John yawned, and since he found nothing better to do, he popped the video game he never wanted into the game console he also never wanted. The TV buzzed and flashed a few times from lack of use. “Select a Character,” voiced the game.
**yawn** Did I create a believable character?
On a Wednesday afternoon, Arta was in her last class. She thought the class was long even though she’s been in there for about 35 minutes. 5 minutes later, the bell rang and Arta got up and headed to her dorm. Her dorm room had 2 beds; one was palette shaped and the other was piano shaped, one yellow and blue desks, and 2 closets. Her roommate was there, her name was Musa, she had dark blue hair (shoulder length) but with bangs covering her forehead, hazel brown eyes, and a birthmark of a music note on her arm. They are best friends and have been since preschool. Arta’s side of the room was artsy; full of art supplies and easels. Musa’s side was all music-like; full of music sheets and instruments. Arta’s other friends are Lacus and Stella who were roommates in the room next door to Arta and Musa’s. Stella is Arta’s cousin; she has blonde hair, light brown eyes, high school skinny, and a really good fashion sense. Her mother and Arta’s father are siblings. Lacus has been friends with Arta since they’ve meet at friendly gathering. Lacus has brown hair, light blue eyes, and wears a gold pin on her bangs. The next afternoon when all classes were over for the day, Arta and Musa headed out to meet Lacus and Stella at the smoothie shop. They were meeting there to discuss the band and other stuff. Arta says... To be continued...
Is this a good description for a beginning to story? Do I need to back down on description and put more action or dialog?
After using cocaine, she felt like herself still; but better. She felt happier and more improved. She would’ve snorted even more if she wasn’t freaked out about over dosing. A day, or even, an hour without coke was depressing. She was hooked, already.
Over the next few weeks, Abigail skipped nearly all her classes. She avoided her old friends, to hang out with her new ones. She also skipped several cheerleading practices. When she finally did go, she was kicked off the team because her coach caught her using drugs in the locker room.
Abigail read the sign of the large brick building her mother was driving her to. It read, “Albany Drug Rehabilitation Center.” When she got inside, she sat alone in her new, dark room. She stared out the window and watched the rain. She thought about the way her life had changed. She wondered how the so called perfect life turned into the last thing she ever imagine she’d become. Yet somehow, she was finally at peace with herself.
Does it seem like I wrapped up the story too quickly? (mainly the part after the stars) If so, how would anyone suggest I fix the issue? What kind of details may I want to add?
Amanda came home after a difficult day at school, only to see Bob watching TV on her couch, wearing her clothes.
“Bob? Oh God,” Amanda groaned, “What the hell are you doing here sitting on my couch wearing my clothes?”
Bob stood up in surprise. And he raised his arms in victory forcing the too small shirt to stretching up and displaying a very painful looking muffin-top. “Isn’t it obvious? I’m going to take over your life!”
“Huh?” Amanda asked, “That will never work.”
“Hahaha!” Bob laughed, “How could it not work?”
“You’re a guy and I’m a girl,” Amanda said, “It doesn’t work like that Bob.”
“Yes it does.”
“No it doesn’t.”
“Fine! I’ll prove my pint with a duel!”
“Fine! Winner gets my life!”
“Don’t you mean my life?” Bob said smugly as he took out his Yugi Oh Cards.
Amanda and Bob started their duel. Unfortunately, Bob did not remember to copy Amanda’s deck (and his deck was so crappy) so he lost quickly.
“Go home Bob!” Amanda said with triumph, “And you can keep the clothes. I don’t want them anymore.”
Was I going to far here? Do you think I should have included actual details about the duel?
Do you think I have too much exposition? Is it too boring at the begining, with the introduction? How can I improve?
I reached for the doorknob when it was opened for me by a police officer, it was weird having people in my house that I did not recognize. My parents were sitting on the love seat together, they both were inconsolable. I did not see Analise anywhere, but maybe they thought it was better to keep her at school that way they won’t worry her. Or maybe it was the fact that she did not have a ride home, like I did. I man dressed in a shirt and tie approached me “Are you Ainsley?” he seemed stern, but also understanding. I nodded because I was so confused of what was going on. “Would you please follow me into the dining room?” he motioned to my dining room like it was his house I was visiting. I just methodically walked over to my dinner chair and took a seat.
How can I improve the anxiety in these two paragraphs?
All of a sudden there was a loud boom and we both covered our ears. After about a minute and a half we were convinced that the ring was destroyed and departed to the truck. We eventually reached the truck and man large man came up behind me. He tried to grab me but I kicked him in his crouch and elbowed him in the stomach. I learned that move in a defense class about a year ago. Then bright lights appeared and sirens went off and loud voices appeared. “Put your hands up!”
We both put our hands up and held our hands behind our backs. Another man went up to Fred and asked “Where is the ring?” Fred immediately replied. “In the lake, good luck trying to find it”.
This is an excerpt from my short story Crater Lake. It's about a guy and girl who find a ring and now must find this lake and destroy it. Is this excerpt descriptive enough? Is there any wording I could add to make it seem more descriptive?
Is this too boring or wordy to be the introduction?
“What do you want me to say, sugar pie? I can’t tell you how sorry I am.” Steve said, after a minute or two of silence. Amber shrugged.
“You say that as if words are supposed to repair what you destroyed. You have no idea the pain you’ve caused our family. Mom can’t even talk about you. Aunt Karen comes over every day to make sure we’re still making it by. She’s tried to get mom to see a therapist but she refuses.”
“Maybe if she just came to visit, I could talk her into it. I’m sure I could talk her into seeing someone.”
“Steve, you really think she wants to see you? She’s ashamed of you! She had to quit her job because all of her co-workers read about your arrest in the paper. Do you know how many reporters waited outside the house for almost three weeks waiting to get a comment from the family? She couldn’t even leave to get us groceries without being harassed. She had to have Mr. and Mrs. Charles bring over food after the reporters had left for the day.”
Is the dialog realistic? Is it too over dramatic?
"Abigail," she said in a comforting voice.
"My name's Bailey," I tried to keep my voice from showing how much I hates her, for Daddy's sake. Instead, the words came out cold as ice.
"I always hated your first name, I can't believe I let your father pick it," she said quietly.
"Well, I hate my middle name so it's a good thing Daddy named me Bailey seeing as I'm the one who has to live with it, right?" My voice was getting more agressive, but at least I hadn't left or started screaming. I wanted to hear what this woman had to say. How could she justify nearly ten years of absence? Ten years of abandonment? I would hear her out, alright. Then I would turn everything around. I was going to break her. I wanted to ruin her life, just like she ruined mine.
"You hate me," she said miserably.
"Of course I do!" I said. My voice was scary and reminiscent of maniacal laughter.
"You have to understand," she told me desperately. "I...I wouldn't have been a good mother. I would have screwed you up!"
"So it was better for me to be raised by a single father? To make Mother's Day cards in school for no one? To have me go through life only knowing half of me? That wasn't fair!" I yelled that last part.
"You can't talk to me like that! I'm still your mother!" She yelled right back.
"I have no mother!"
Can you understand why the daughter is so angry? After her mother comes back in her life after 10 years of abandonment? Throughout the story, Bailey (the daughter) is potrayed as untrusting and as a grudge holder. Even with that in mind, do you think she's overreacting, or do you think she has the right to be angry? Are there too many details? Not enough?
He looked down at what was lurking beneath his feet; there was a flat rock, about ten feet in both width and length, and aboutr ten feet below. He hadn’t worked his way up from there; he came from the side of the rock wall, working his way over to where he spotted a formation in the rock that would have made for a stepping-stool to reach over the top. He was only an arms length away from making over, but he had come to a point where the rock became smooth and there was no way to climb. Jay alternated criss-crossing his legs like those sports players who grape-vined when they warmed up, working his way about ten feet over to the left where once reached, he could finish his climb. After he did so, he started walking toward a path-way he could barely make out with the glare of the sun blurring the vision in his eyes.
. He pulled up the bottom of his pants and took a step into the mud, only he never seemed to step on any ground. His leg quickly sunk, bringing the rest of his body with him. He instantly got mud in his eyes, his ears, up his nose, and so much for pulling up his pants, those were a lost cause now. Everything went dark, and the noise of nature’s chirpings turned to a numbing silence.
It smelled like something was burning. The crackles of the fire were barely distinguishable, but Jay did hear them. I must have stopped to take a nap, he thought. He went to open his eyes, to outstretch his arms and legs, but felt a wet, sticky resistant force holding him back. What the hell is this, he thought. He began feeling around, trying to make sense of where he was. The only feeling he could make out was the sense he had that he was somehow underground. Shit, he thought. Shit. Hopefully that wasn’t what it was he was swimming in. His thoughts began to race, and so would have his breath, but then he realized he wasn’t breathing, he couldn’t breath. He tried to swim upward, to get to the surface of this mess he had somehow gotten into. A gust of air swept over his fingertips. They had broken to the surface, which was only two feet up. He tried to grab onto something so he could pull himself up, but any weight he placed on them caused them to sink back into the moosh. Jay’s panicked thoughts began clouding his mind. I’ve been berried alive, I must have been, but how? How did I get here? I need to get out, I need to get out now, I need air! He tried to swim forward, to try and find the edges of this hole he was stuck in. A solid wall pressed up against his knees. Here it is, he thought. He followed up the wall with his hands until he found the top. He dug his hands into it and pulled himself up as hard as he could until his head broke through the surface. He gasped for air, but sucked in nothing but mud, and started to choke.
“Nina, this letter came for you in the mail. It’s a letter from your mother and father.”
“WHAT, they died almost three years ago!”
“I know, I’m sorry I read the letter to make sure that it was them and not a fake.”
“It’s ok Walter, may I read the letter?”
“You can… But you may not be able to read it.”
“Ok, but at least I can try.”
“That may work… but you have to find the key”
“The key? What type of key Walter?”
“The key is hidden some where in the house, but even I don’t know where it is.”
“Ok Walter I’m going to my room if you need me”
SO OTHER POP's! Whatcha think on this little snippet of a short story I have been working on? It's supposed to be creepy. I don't wanna give away the rest of it, so this will have to do. Oh, by the way, this dudes a demon. If you couldnt tell.
This was just a writing exercise, but I want to know if it is easily visualized? It is not suppose to be too funny but does it provide a chuckle? Was it interesting and should I continue on with it?
When Jothan, a professional BMX racer had won first place at the State Finals he was ecstatic that he had finally won the one thing that he had forever desired. But then he started to think to himself “It’s only a State trophy, I have to be the best BMX’er in the entire country.” With that he drove straight to San Quentin, California where the National BMX Finals were being held. Entering himself in the contest illegally, he was going to show the entire nation what a great BMX rider he really was.
“Ha-ha I’ll show those fools who’s the best rider in this entire country!”
With that Jothan’s chance to show the country exactly what he could do. Doing outrageous tricks that many people have not heard of, Jothan easily got a score of 50 which was a perfect score. The only way that he could be beaten is if someone else does more elaborate tricks which Jothan made sure would be impossible.
“That trophy is as good as mine!” Jothan said with an evil sound in his voice.
Without any worries in his mind, Jothan decided to take a small nap to help him for his big award ceremony, but didn’t know what went on. While Jothan was asleep, a new rider did tricks that weren’t even from the country! Once Jothan finally heard the judges voice over the loudspeaker, he was all prepared to receive his award but was humiliated when he was only awarded the 2nd place trophy.
What are some details i could add? What are some i should take away?
Her cell phone rang playing the infamous Justin Beiber song Baby. It was her boyfriend Robby, before she had a chance to say anything he said “babe I know this sounds weird, but it appears that no one over the age of 18 or under the age of 14 is even on this planet. I called my cousin out in Denver, he said the same thing. No one is around, are your parents home.” With a worried tone she answered, “No”
…..to be continued.
how could this be better? what changes could i make to make this story better?
February 24, 2011
About the dark thing... the lamp in my room that keeps my room bright recently stopped working and I am too lazy to get a new one, though I found that it helps me, so when I find an old one in my basement, I'll probably turn if off for such occasions.
If I want to write, then I'll write. Nothing helps me write but motivation, and the plain desire to write. I write best when doing a reflexion on something rather than throwing out facts like in a research paper.
I don't have a magic feather. I don't believe in magic.
Whenever I am about to write a story, I will go into my room and onto my laptop. My TV is located right above my laptop so as I am writing I turn it on, put a program on that I like (usually something to do with sports and/or Family Guy/The Office), and set it to mute. I suppose this is my magic feather because I enjoy watching TV as I write and I always like to have something to keep me off task. However, I set it to mute because the noise becomes too much of a distraction. Stone silence please.