jayseven Posted November 2, 2009 Posted November 2, 2009 (edited) It's NaNoWriMo time, but I've sat here and been unable to think of a decent story idea. For ages I've fooled myself into thinking that I could be a writer someday, but truth is I write a poem a week (max), and if anything I've gotten worse over the years. While at uni, the modules on creative writing offered up some ideas to get the creative juices flowing, and methods to overcome writer's block. No matter what method you use to write, if you don't gain some different, honest perspectives then you are in danger of never improving. So I want to both receive and offer honest constructive criticism. I want this thread to be a 'safe place' where you don't need to worry about being laughed at, while also a place where general groundless praise is banned in favour of deconstruction (that is, a critical attempt to analyse methods and meaning rather than just an immediate emotional response to a piece). I also want people to debate their opinions if they feel like it. Er, yeah. Basically I suck at writing and I hope you guys suck too, but more than that I hope you'll give it a go. Each week I'd like for someone to suggest a task for us all to have a go at. This week's theme is Halloween or Bonfire's night, from the perspective of an alien, or someone entirely new to the concept of either festivity, like someone from an alternate present, or the future, or distant past, or from the perspective of an animal, or a building~! The thing doesn't have to be finished. While some weeks it may be better to have the genre fixed, this week I think it'll be fine to be a poem, a short-story or a report-styled piece. Please be open and friendly both to new ideas and criticism (and hey, if you want to take part, you can post 'sure I'll give this a go at some point!' and post something later if you want. I don't want to post my go straight away because I'll feel shit when nobody replies for five days) Edited November 2, 2009 by jayseven
Ganepark32 Posted November 2, 2009 Posted November 2, 2009 Actually a really good idea (not that I'm surprised that it's coming from you). While I don't think I'll ever be a writer (god knows what I want to be now after architect (which I've partly accomplished as an arch. tech.) and psychologist) I still enjoy writing, both critical and creative, but I don't do much creative. So yeh, I'm definitely up for trying this. I'll spend some time tomorrow trying to come up with something, most likely a poem as I love poetry.
Ashley Posted November 2, 2009 Posted November 2, 2009 Deadlines are I presume Sunday? And I'm guessing theres no set word limit?
jayseven Posted November 2, 2009 Author Posted November 2, 2009 Yeah sunday deadline, and yeah no limit. Can be a succinct and witty one-liner if you have it in you
ReZourceman Posted November 2, 2009 Posted November 2, 2009 Trick Or Treating Or Aliens It was a dark and freezing cold night. In fact it was October the 31st 2009 and it was Halloween. Our tale begins in England, more specifically the south of London...the very south. The south that you never hear of in books or in movies, no this is the kind of suburb where nothing interesting ever happens. Until tonight. Little Jimmy Big Mittens, a proud and confident 10 year old boy was walking down Wunverson Avenue just as it started to turn dark at around 5pm. All down the road children were walking out of their houses, wearing all different costumes. From giant headed Jack O'Lanterns to creepy Frankenstein monsters and even one girl who was wearing a giant Japanese Spider Crab costume (her parents were crustacean enthusiasts). Knocking on his best friends door, Little Jimmy Big Mittens adjusted his mask slightly so he could see through the eye-holes clearly. A tall blonde haired boy opened the door. His costume was....eye catching at the very least. Little Jimmy Big Mittens glanced at his chum from head to toe. His legs looked ribbed and brown, around his waist he had what looked like a thin circular barrier, like a hugely erect tutu, and the upper half of his body he was covered in tin foil, climaxing in a sharp tip atop his head. "You're a sword!?" exclaimed Little Jimmy Big Mittens. "Thats right" replied Knobbled Knees Newton, proudly. Taking in a deep breath, sighing and shaking his head, Little Jimmy Big Mittens ushered his friend to go. Knobbled Knees Newton grabbed his treats bag and the pair set out to play Trick or Treat. The pair had staggering luck. Miss Claydon, the new person on their street was giving children wonderfully decorated toffee apples, covered in deep red toffee, decorated with chocolate and hundreds & thousands, old Mr Thupsill from beyond the quarry gave the two boys his entire bowl of sweets because no other kids had dared go as far as the quarry. Even the middle aged next door neighbours of Knobbled Knees Newton gave the boys a selection of toffees, compared to last year when they just gave the boys a small packet of raisins. "Fucking hell! This is a better haul than all the other years put together!" Little Jimmy Big Mittens excitedly spluttered, cramming a giant gobstopper into his mouth, as the boys sat on the cornfield, surrounded by sweets. "Too right!" Knobbled Knees Newton agreed, as he stuffed his jaw with Sweet Cherry Powdered Bon Bons. As he grabbed another handful, he gazed up with a curious look on his face and coughed cherry flavoured icing sugar everywhere, spluttering as he raised his hand and pointed behind Little Jimmy Big Mittens. Little Jimmy Big Mittens saw a shadow appear from his body, as a bright light shone behind him. He slowly turned his head, and then froze with fear. He couldn't believe what he was seeing. A giant disk shaped aircraft, with six large spot lights all aimed directly at the boys. A hatch on the bottom of the UFO spat out streams of steam, and hissed open. Knobbled Knees Newton jumped to his feet and sprinted away. One of the beams of light shot out, and a glowing disk was shooting towards the terrified child like a missile. Little Jimmy Big Mittens watched the disk as it zoomed past his face, and he witnessed it smash into his best pal. It was the most disgcusting thing he had ever seen. The disk smashed through his friend like a giant, flying, circular saw. Chunks of guts and bone were hurled out of the front of Knobbled Knees Newton's chest. He instantly fell to the floor, and the disk flew off into the distance, shining the horizon and lighting up a mist of red blood that was gently floating towards the fresh corpse. The disk slowly came back into view. It was rushing towards Little Jimmy Big Mittens at an alarming pace. The boy gasped, and put his hand on the floor to pull himself up. He could hear the humming of the disk getting closer and closer, and he launched himself backwards, towards the UFO. But as he did so, he screamed as a 9 foot tall creature, with pale green skin, and a dull navy leather-like cloak grabbed him. The creature clasped his gigantic hand around the tiny childs mouth, and pulled him up off the floor. Little Jimmy Big Mittens fearful and partially concealed face was bought level with the creatures face. Tears rolled over the creatures fingers from Little Jimmy Big Mittens' eyes as he gazed directly into the stare of the creatures huge, black, bulging and glossy eyes. Little Jimmy Big Mittens' heart was thumping out of his chest. He heard a rumbling, coming from the creature. The creatures face trembled and it lowered its eyebrows (no hair) and gave an evil look to the boy. He opened his mouth and the rumbling turned into a terrifying roar. Its mouth opened wider, to reveal long, sharp teeth that were two inches in length. As it opened wider and wider, sickly grey saliva dropped out of its mouth and the creature bellowed with anger, its grasp on Little Jimmy Big Mittens face became harder. The pressure was unbearable, and the small boy was wailing with pain. The creature smashed the boys head against his open jaw. Twisting the child around with his freakish arms, he dug his teeth in hard to the boys scalp, as if cutting open a tin of baked beans. Little Jimmy Big Mittens was flailing wildly and screaming with torturous pain. The creature grabbed both of Little Jimmy Big Mittens arms, finally releasing his head, blood seaping from the wholes the creatures finger nails had made. He flung his arms back, still grasping the child and tore his limbs clean from their sockets. Little Jimmy Big Mittens fell to the floor, his mouth wide open and crying but no sound escaping his mouth. The creature licked the boys neck, and rolled his tongue upto his nose. He suddenly pierced Little Jimmy Big Mitten's face and pulled his entire skin from his skull. Finally he stamped on the boys chest, and splash of blood shooting from the child like a fountain. The creature was joined by another two aliens from the craft, and they looked over the brightness and screams of children having fun from the town beyond the field. They went to investigate and gave each other a sinister snigger and click when they saw so many small people out on the streets. A small girl about 100 yards away noticed the aliens and grabbed onto her mothers skirt. The aliens stomped down, lowered their bodies and stretched their heads forwards, as if they were about to pounce, and they roared. The screech echoed through the streets, and lights came on in several houses. Windows opened and dogs started barking. The aliens did indeed pounce, and they sprinted towards the families and friends all wanting to have a night of tricks and fun. The small girl clinging to her mother was punched aside like a frisbee, hitting a house in the distance, her skull smashing over a brick wall. One of the aliens unexpectedly spoke. It sounded like an out-of-tune radio. "Zaaaaruuuu....zzzztttt" and the other aliens turned around. An alien was standing in the middle of the road its head pointed directly towards a 3 foot tall young child wearing an alien costume. The costume was staggeringly similar to the real aliens. The other two creatures straightened up and slowly and calmly walked over to the investigate. The young child was frozen, not with fear, but with child-like curiousness, staring back at the alien. The three aliens now stood in a circle surrounding the child. No one spoke. They all gazed silently at the costumed infant, occasionally looking up at each other. After a few minutes the aliens started talking very quietly. They moved their hands, as if in debate, but never removing their stare from the child for more than a few seconds. A piercing group of gigantic flood lights, 15 feet off the floor burst on, and the roar of a menacing engine shuddered loadly. Huge wheels rolled and a gargantuan flame orange combine harvester was tearing speedily towards the three aliens and the child. The aliens turned their heads and their eyes widened. The combine harvester chewed up the aliens and the small child with its gigantic spinning blades. Five feet long limbs were flung wildly from the machine, and dark green blood splattered the drivers wind screen. The child was churned up in the blades and flew out of the top, into the air, slamming down on the floor below. One alien managed to drag itself away from the combine harvester, slowly pulling itself along the tarmac pavement with its one remaining arm. But the combine harvester was too fast, and tore up the aliens torso, skin and blood splattering the onlookers and houses. A large fat ginger man climbed out of the combine harvest, removed the wheat he was chewing from his mouth, and spat on the alien corpse. "Welcome to Earth." End.
Beast Posted November 2, 2009 Posted November 2, 2009 This idea is seriously awesome and I will have a go at this sometime but it won't be this month because I'm seriously dedicated to crossing that 50K finish line. But yeah, count me in. If you suffer from writer's block, I tend to listen to music and shut my eyes for a bit and then an idea will come to you. I know this because that's how I thought of my story (even if it does sound a little crap, lol.) Here's my Novel Info what I'm writing for NaNoWriMo. It's called Inferno: The NightWorld Saga (crap title but it's all I could come up with): Synopsis: Inferno- The NightWorld Saga Lucas is your everyday teenager. He likes nothing more than listening to music, playing video games and talking to his friends. Except for Lucas is no ordinary teenager, he has a gift. His gift is he can step into an alternative universe...through his dreams! At first he thinks they're just dreams until he finds out that the universe he dreams about actually exists and that there are four others in the world who can do the same thing. The alternative universe is in danger of the Obscurus and the only hope to stop it rest in the hands of five warriors...one of the five warriors is Lucas. Excerpt: Inferno- The NightWorld Saga I always thought my dreams were special. The beautiful worlds of a thousand colours, all were rich and bold and the glistening blue ocean as far as the eye could see. The smell of the air so fresh and sweet, also the views I was very lucky to see were ones that I pray I would never forget. The most beautiful thing of all of my dreams was the endless sky with the sun and the moon coinciding together, making such a beautiful dark velvet red colour. Darkness and light side-by-side become one and the same. It was a memory I was sure I would never forget and it was a memory I would love to share with other people. They were mine, my worlds. My worlds I could live in one day forever. Unfortunately, most of the population on Earth will never get to see what I see. Very few people can see what I see, can dream what I dream. Except these dreams aren’t your ordinary dreams, these are real. It’s a reality. It’s an alternate reality. It’s an alternate universe. It’s in danger, the Obscurus are taking over our worlds, my worlds. Only five of us can stop it. Somehow, we will fight to the death, the worlds are worth it. But jayseven, fantastic idea
ReZourceman Posted November 2, 2009 Posted November 2, 2009 That sounds kinda totally fucking badass DoubleDee.
jayseven Posted November 2, 2009 Author Posted November 2, 2009 I wrote two versions; one is... er... from some alternate-reality type person. I have no idea. The second is as if a pirate saw the 5th november typicalities (except, with both dudes, they have no idea of what a firework is, duh. That's teh biggest flaw I guess). Rez; I've not read all yours yet, but I will, given time. DudeDazz; tbh you should put that in the NaNoWriMo thread rather than this one. You have an interesting idea and it'll be good to see where it goes. Prose The lights shoot up through the velvet canvas of a sky at great speeds, singing and wailing like fowl wind through closely knit tree-arms, until they shatter like a fine glass - only instead of a soft, brittle sound they roar and stomp as they fountain down, disappearing before they hit the ground. They appear to converse to one another in rhythms and colours indecipherable, and some of them splinter into smaller versions of themselves quick and regular, to a sound like laughter. The ground-bourn versions are akin to a shard of what must be their elders that shriek above; only these are held by the children. They, too, are in a chattered motion; peppered laughter as the children chase away the cold, casting spell-like shapes to the moon and the stars with their bright wands. The sound is less brutal than that of the kindred sky-bourn lights; akin to the delicate fizz of fallen leaves. There appears to be a solemn adult, placed atop a furnace of flame, yet without noise of pain or hurt. There are crowds of cheers surrounding him, reflecting the streaming lights above with choruses of long, grand vowels. Poem Them lights that fill the sky remind ol’ me Of treacherous bounties to be had at sea Yonder canvas of black burps odours acrid, Though the displays seem a’most sacred. The sky yet filled with beacons of lighted speed Feeding off the ‘ooh’ and ‘aah’ with greed, Wailing like fowl concubines of lore That lead seamen to their deaths off-shore. They be like cannon-blasts, echoing loud Instead sounding like glass shattered proud. Fine panes that do twinkle, and fall with mirth With smaller shards that laugh upon their birth As the pieces fall like a whale’s fanned spit. Yet little kiddies with gleeful spir’t Charge about with little candles lit Casting their spells in shapes without wit Though sounding not like their skyward kin; These toy-crackers emit a joyful din Like a faint wave cresting ag’inst our ship They laugh like parrots, do these wee nips. While their elders are mocking indeed As they burn a wee man, who they have decreed A plotter! High treason! T’is their ‘walk the plank With cheers into darkness, they drank, they drank. Too much fire without water, these are dangers indeed I think I best stick with ‘a pirate’s life for me.’
Supergrunch Posted November 2, 2009 Posted November 2, 2009 I like this idea, will probably read the other things people have written and submit one of my own later on. I started a villanelle, but it was crap, so back to the drawing board.
Paj! Posted November 2, 2009 Posted November 2, 2009 I spent half an hour writing a story from the perspective of a Lamp-post on hallowe-en, but it was an obvious B-Side, and needed to be culled. I might rewrite it at some point, but I hate my writing skills. I only like criticising others.
Molly Posted November 2, 2009 Posted November 2, 2009 Jaaaaaaayseven. You've given me a new excuse to procrastinate! This seems fun, I might give it a go. I will read the others too, promise. I quite like groundless praise. If it weren't for it, no one would have praised my 'dulcet tones'!
Daft Posted November 2, 2009 Posted November 2, 2009 (edited) I am a stranger and glass sky stars fly and fall away to dust. Amoung movement and crowds with shining eyes unclosed and heavy breath I'm standing underneath heaven sent TNT. Smell of smoke and cold and damp. Everybody has to wait and everbody has to demonstrate in hushed silence and close. Can't go further. Can't go losing, losing my mind. Is this the thing you do to stop the stars shining on you. So long. Falling. Fire from the pile casts shadows like wolves so long and I am a stranger and wet ground burns high into night sky. --- I would have written more but I'm tired. That was fun. Edited November 3, 2009 by Daft Me spell go boo boo...
jayseven Posted November 3, 2009 Author Posted November 3, 2009 Daft; I love that you, too, see teh semblance of fireworks and broken glass, and I like the efforts you make towards portraying the smokey atmosphere. That's one of the main things about bonfires night taht I didn't really achieve at all -- the encompassing smoke. I also like how you mention the waiting. I had forgotten how often that is a part of the celebrations - and I find it a quintessentially british element, where we hold palaver at the typically ill-planned moments of nothing. Despite your spelling mistake of 'crowd' (yes, I believe we should be allowed to pick on such things). I question the necessity of "I am stranger" - while the line envokes interesting thoughts, it isn't necessary. That's the limits to my crit, as I, too, am tired of writing. Molly; I do like your like a lot - it's both very keyed in to a particular aspect of the celebration yet also ambiguous enough to maintain interest. If I were to ask you from what perspective you were writing it, how would you respond? Perhaps as an alien, would they really question why they were there? Or, perhaps, that question is baringly rhetoric. I know not. All I know is I am approaching my zenith of cider-in-take, and thus my vocabulary has expounded enough to make such fun posts as this.
Paj! Posted November 3, 2009 Posted November 3, 2009 Despite your spelling mistake of 'crowd' (yes, I believe we should be allowed to pick on such things). I question the necessity of "I am stranger" - while the line envokes interesting thoughts, it isn't necessary. That's the limits to my crit, as I, too, am tired of writing. He also unforgivably wrote "Amoung", but I didn't want to be rude and point that and "croud" out.
Coolness Bears Posted November 3, 2009 Posted November 3, 2009 I'm making my way through my short story for this. Not long to go but I think I'll finish it of later!
Molly Posted November 3, 2009 Posted November 3, 2009 An alien asking a rhetoric question. It's not just about halloween as a celebration of fear, but humanity living on fear. We often portray aliens as having a superiority complex. Does an alien have a more well adjusted moral compass or do they use a different instrument all together? Do you have to look from the outside to see things as they really are? I don't know who I'm asking, I'm just typing what I'm thinking. Bed time.
Daft Posted November 3, 2009 Posted November 3, 2009 Daft; I love that you, too, see teh semblance of fireworks and broken glass, and I like the efforts you make towards portraying the smokey atmosphere. That's one of the main things about bonfires night taht I didn't really achieve at all -- the encompassing smoke. I also like how you mention the waiting. I had forgotten how often that is a part of the celebrations - and I find it a quintessentially british element, where we hold palaver at the typically ill-planned moments of nothing. Despite your spelling mistake of 'crowd' (yes, I believe we should be allowed to pick on such things). I question the necessity of "I am stranger" - while the line envokes interesting thoughts, it isn't necessary. That's the limits to my crit, as I, too, am tired of writing. My god, pick away!!! (Spelling mistakes make me die inside!) Actually, I knew I was spelling it wrong when I typed it but it seemed not to register enough for me to do anything about it...weird. I'll blame being tired. (follow a million spelling mistakes below. ) The 'stranger' bit initially tied into viewing it from an alien's perspective but I also found it made more sense in questioning why we still do things like Bonfire Night. Thanks for the comments. I'm going to read through the thread today and dish out my love. Just wanted to get something on paper (screen) before I maybe got influenced by what other people wrote. That was fun so I might re-write it and add a bit more for Sunday.
Ganepark32 Posted November 3, 2009 Posted November 3, 2009 I took two attempts at this so will post both, as one is ridiculously short while the other is lengthy enough. Both are based on Bonfire night but the second could also work for Halloween. Same Night, New Eyes The sodden ground begs for release, But it never comes. First the pounding rain, then The heavy footsteps of hundreds of people They're gathering but for what - - I do not know. A pitiful barrier prevents pentration; Holds the people back in their excitement. Contained within: A pile of waste upon which stands a figure Perpetually bound to one spot A single man with a light Walks the enclosure like a caged animal. He makes his last pass, And the gathering sinks into silence, The ritual - it begins. The silence is pierced. Something has shot skyward. A Thousand eyes simultaneously search But they find nothing in the Darkness. Suddenly, a FLASH of light, The sky illuminates red, green, and blue. The crowd 'ooos' and 'ahs', Excitement etched upon their faces At the spectacle it is that they see. Colours continue to canvas the sky, Keeping the masses enthused. Yet, Out of the corner of mine eye I see a glimmer of light closer to home. Surging through the impenetrable darkness, Beating aside the unyielding onslaught of rain, It finds what it is looking for - And, Within minutes, it's fully ablaze. Won't someone help the figure perch-ed aloft? No, Everyone's leaving. O Solitary Man, What hast thou done to deserve this? I stand as but a lone spectator, Watching your untimely and chaotic demise. As your engulfing embers ebb into nothingness, I stand as but a lone spectator Course of the Night Anticipation, Excitement, Spectacle, Jubilation, Disappointment.
Paj! Posted November 3, 2009 Posted November 3, 2009 On a tangent/off-topic, this made me consider something.. I never read poems people post online, because I never feel I can really get them. I don't think I have a firm enough grasp of how to judge poetry that isn't fucking Keats or whatever. I also don't think I LIKE poetry all that much. I enjoyed some of the classic poets I studied at school, but I suppose they're classic for a reason? So I just refrain from judging any poems people write...sometimes they come across as pretend or something (that's the wrong word...that sounds negative...it's like, they feel forced? Poetry as a whole I think to me, especially if I "know" the person. I can't link the two personalites together - the person I know, and how they express stuff in poetry, it strikes me as false, even though it probably isn't), but then I actually think that feeling is just the feeling I feel everytime I try and write something that sounds decent. If it sounds vaguely normal or pedestrian I just hate it instantly (hence me scrapping what I wrote for this). I really respect people who can actually churn out a nice poem that they're happy with, and this thread made me think about why I almost never read them/comment on them. This post has probably just insulted people, which is isn't meant to.
ReZourceman Posted November 3, 2009 Posted November 3, 2009 No ones reading mine, despite its genre hopping epicness.
Paj! Posted November 3, 2009 Posted November 3, 2009 I started, but it was too long at the time. I'll finish it at some point.
jayseven Posted November 3, 2009 Author Posted November 3, 2009 Anyone can draw a picture, but only the best are worthy of being called 'art'. I don't think anyone here is under false pretences of how good they are, and if anything the self-aware prefixed "this'll be shit" only confirms this; but the whole point is that any poem can convey a meaning. With amateur stuff like this thread the reader is either going to go "ok, I get what you're saying, but it's not clever enough" or "yeah, I have no idea what you're trying to put across". Either way, criticism can help the poster to try and construct something better with time. We're not here to make masterpieces. As you have sorta said - it's much harder to find the effort to actually respond directly to a poem - but any effort you make will no doubt be felt greatly. ReZ; I plan on giving everything a proper read/crit before the week's out
Gentleben Posted November 4, 2009 Posted November 4, 2009 Here's mine, hope everyone likes it, feel free to copy paste and replace the word someone with a forum name. Bonfire Night Every member of N-europe had travelled to the big bonfire party. Everyone was having lots of fun sitting around the bonfire and eating yummy burgers and hotdogs which tasted of meat and smoke. It was getting late and then without warning someone picked up a firework and threw in at someones eye. someone was hurt and they began to cry. Someone got really angry and picked up someone and knew them ontop of the bonfire. Someone on the bonfire started to catch on fire and got really angry their expensive clothes were getting burnt. Someone laughed at all the random violence and that made someone pick up a BBQ fork and charge straight at someone. The BBQ fork pierced someones leg and they felt over. Someone wished that hadn't bothed to travel the long distance to the big bonfire party and someone who was reading their mind at that moment in time was upset since they had paid for the cost to transport that person. Someone gathered someone else, somebody and some person and ran to their car to try and escape. They reached the car and all climbed inside but someone didn't want them to escape and had put a big pile of fireworks inside the car and lit them all just seconds before everyone piled in. The car flashed and exploded with colour and sounds. Someone picked up a bucket of water and threw it on the big bonfire. Everyone went home and vowed never to talk about what happened ever again.
Paj! Posted November 4, 2009 Posted November 4, 2009 You're right, of course. "]It's my own hatred of when things I do aren't perfect, when I feel they should be/could be. I don't mean when I failed a chemistry test or something, I was bad at chemistry and didn't care..but english and art are the two subjects I actually did well in, yet I always disliked most of what I did resolve. I think deep down I feel a bit like "What's the point if it's not good/meaningful?" (not referring to anything here btw, just my own shit), but then as you pointed, everything has a meaning to whoever wrote it, which should've been obvious but wasn't really. The feelings above can be extrapolated into how I feel about my/life in general. Hmm. --- I might start something for this again. Ganepark, I like your second one, and I love your prose bit Jay. will get to others at some point to.
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