Well, I'm back. Sorry I haven't posted, I've been pretty tired as of late. But no longer.
Ten years earlier…
Hunter Lars III paced the floor of the lab, adding sprinkles of chemicals to tubes here and there, readjusting the heat of the burners. He was nearly frantic, his heart racing as he mixed and poured and measured. He was so close, so close to finding the cure for cancer. He could save his mother… He picked up the pace, running back and forth. He stopped after another hour, stepped back, and clasped his hands together. "I… I think I've got it!"
He burst from the lab and ran down the steps to the lower floor. Thirty doors down he stopped, and peered into the window. There was his mother, pale and fragile. She was so sick… He opened the door and walked in. "Mother…" he whispered softly to her.
She opened her eyes. "Hunter… darling how I've missed you! You hardly visit!" Her voice was a soft breath over the beeping of the cardiometer measuring her heart rate. Hunter sat by her. "I've been working so hard to find a cure for you… I haven't had the time…" He rubbed his eyes. He really had been busy. He patted her arm. "I've done it… I can heal you."
Well gotta stop here, more tomorrow or tonight or in a year, ya never know, amirite?
Wednesday, May 27, 2015
Friday, May 22, 2015
Announcement Time
Hello everybody, I will not be posting this weekend because I will be out of town. I'm stepping outside to leave for Connecticut right now. Just wanted to let you know so you didn't think I'd forgotten or something.
Sunday, May 17, 2015
Chapter Four: Open Doors
Better late than never.
It had been three days since the encounter with the large sphere. Damian reached into his daily pack and pulled out a granola bar. Whoever it was that dropped of his food hadn't taken his souvenir. The firing mechanism was lying at his feet, pointed away from him. He picked it up, turning it over, inspecting it again. It looked like it might fit in the door, inside the largest hole. He'd waited to try, not knowing the consequences. But it was time to try and bust out at least, and he wasn't going to find any way out from the direction he'd come. He'd tried finding his way back to the room he'd woken up in. The way back to that whole sector was closed off.
He stood up and turned around. There was the door, rising up behind him. He grabbed the mechanism, flipped it around, and pushed it into the hole. Nothing happened.
"Well, that went well," he muttered. He tried taking it back out, and it was locked in place. He looked around, and then shrugged.
"Okay."
Damian ran down the hall, looking for another sphere. He knew what to expect now, at least. A medium sized one. He turned left and right, careful to keep a pattern so he wouldn't get lost. He turned the corner, and tripped over something traveling towards him. He rolled and got back to his feet just as the sphere fired at him. This sphere was smaller than the last one, about the size of a dog. He ducked, showered in sparks as it missed and hit the wall he was standing against. He started to run, hoping to escape around a bend but fell back down again. He rolled to the side as another burst flew at him. One shot skipped off his face mask, leaving a dent. He noticed something as he rolled. The sphere would not spray shots off randomly. It had to have clear, concise aim before it fired. He shoved himself up, then went on the offensive.
Damian ran left, then cut right just before the sphere fired. The sphere, in turn, readjusted. But Damian was already back to the other side. He reached it before it could fire and kicked it. It rolled along the ground and stuck a wall. The center shifted around towards him again, just in time for him to slam the butt of his gun down on it. The light inside slowly faded to black. Damian ripped out the firing mechanism and started walking back.
Hunter typed at breakneck pace, every so often reaching over to grab his coffee as he worked. The world may be ending, but coffee was still his number one priority. He sat back, sweating a little, then readjusted his glasses. Searching around, he found the folders he wanted. He splayed out their contents on the table next to him, poring over all of the variables. "Yes… definitely needed… and maybe a few… AHA!" he screamed, raising the paper into the air like a trophy. "A forest!" he exclaimed, jumping around. Then he sat back down, laughing softly to himself as he typed. They all thought he was mad, but he could save the world. He just knew it. He still remembered from all those years ago. He could still see the primal eyes, the wild looks. He could still hear the screams. He laughed softly to himself as he typed, alone. He could change it.
I'm stopping here for right now, but I'll be blogging the rest tomorrow most likely. You guys have to have a pic of Hunter, and I really don't feel like drawing one, so here's a picture of what you can imagine him like. Or not. Personally, I prefer to imagine all characters my own way. It's up to you.
Sunday, May 10, 2015
Chapter Three continued
So yeah, I'm back like i said I'd be. For once.
The viewing room was lit with the light from the screens as Hunter processed where to go from here. He scratched his chin, jerking in surprise when he felt the sharp hairs growing there. He hadn't gotten much sleep lately. "Three… no five… maybe?… but where… what kinds of factors… another subject…" he mumbled to himself. Lead assistant Harold Beckens walked over to him.
"Sir," he started. "I'm not sure about the testing."
Hunter looked up. "Why not?"
The man shifted uncomfortably. "It's just that things are advancing a little faster… better than we'd prepared for. We have no idea what this could lead to, but we don't want to rush anything is all."
Hunter shrugged. "Fine, if you really think so. It'll take him at very least a week to solve the door, and by then we will have everything we want set up. All the variables, everything. Just calm down and focus. Now get back to work."
Beckens bowed stiffly and left without another word. Hunter sat back in his chair. Everything was falling apart in the world, and this project could not under any circumstances fall through. His head in his hands, he sighed and thought about the mistakes he'd made. Hopefully, hopefully, he'd be able to pull everything out of the nosedive it was in. He sat up in his chair, grabbed a laptop, and began working again.
Damian was still stunned. The sphere was monstrous. It was obviously made well, too. His rifle didn't do an incredible lot against the thing. He wanted to take it apart, see how it worked. Stooping down, he felt inside the shell. With a creak it shifted slightly, then slid off. He flipped it over and inspected the inside. There were wires and gears all over. Each bore the logo LARCO on it. Suddenly he had a flashback. The man on the screen that he'd seen right before he'd blacked out. He was holding a syringe, staring down at Damian. Then Damian was looking at a tall building. Then a reactor room. Then he returned to the present. "So I really am a test subject after all," he mumbled to himself. He really hated the feeling, like a rodent having to live purely for experimentation. He nearly felt sick.
He turned back to the rest of the sphere. There was something glowing the the center, just faintly. He reached inside and pulled it out, struggling against a tangle of wires. It was the firing mechanism, a large bolt meant to slam projectiles out at attackers. It must've been about seven inches in diameter. Just faintly, something itched at the back of Damian's mind. He smirked to himself. "I guess I'll just have to play your silly little game," he called out to the empty halls. He picked up his rifle and walked back the way he'd come, clutching his prize.
End of chapter three.
HOPE Y'ALL LIKE THIS… I think I'm getting better. That, to I'm just slowly becoming more deluded as time goes on. Anyhoo, here's some pics of some other deadly and or famous spheres from throughout our media culture and real life:
The viewing room was lit with the light from the screens as Hunter processed where to go from here. He scratched his chin, jerking in surprise when he felt the sharp hairs growing there. He hadn't gotten much sleep lately. "Three… no five… maybe?… but where… what kinds of factors… another subject…" he mumbled to himself. Lead assistant Harold Beckens walked over to him.
"Sir," he started. "I'm not sure about the testing."
Hunter looked up. "Why not?"
The man shifted uncomfortably. "It's just that things are advancing a little faster… better than we'd prepared for. We have no idea what this could lead to, but we don't want to rush anything is all."
Hunter shrugged. "Fine, if you really think so. It'll take him at very least a week to solve the door, and by then we will have everything we want set up. All the variables, everything. Just calm down and focus. Now get back to work."
Beckens bowed stiffly and left without another word. Hunter sat back in his chair. Everything was falling apart in the world, and this project could not under any circumstances fall through. His head in his hands, he sighed and thought about the mistakes he'd made. Hopefully, hopefully, he'd be able to pull everything out of the nosedive it was in. He sat up in his chair, grabbed a laptop, and began working again.
Damian was still stunned. The sphere was monstrous. It was obviously made well, too. His rifle didn't do an incredible lot against the thing. He wanted to take it apart, see how it worked. Stooping down, he felt inside the shell. With a creak it shifted slightly, then slid off. He flipped it over and inspected the inside. There were wires and gears all over. Each bore the logo LARCO on it. Suddenly he had a flashback. The man on the screen that he'd seen right before he'd blacked out. He was holding a syringe, staring down at Damian. Then Damian was looking at a tall building. Then a reactor room. Then he returned to the present. "So I really am a test subject after all," he mumbled to himself. He really hated the feeling, like a rodent having to live purely for experimentation. He nearly felt sick.
He turned back to the rest of the sphere. There was something glowing the the center, just faintly. He reached inside and pulled it out, struggling against a tangle of wires. It was the firing mechanism, a large bolt meant to slam projectiles out at attackers. It must've been about seven inches in diameter. Just faintly, something itched at the back of Damian's mind. He smirked to himself. "I guess I'll just have to play your silly little game," he called out to the empty halls. He picked up his rifle and walked back the way he'd come, clutching his prize.
End of chapter three.
HOPE Y'ALL LIKE THIS… I think I'm getting better. That, to I'm just slowly becoming more deluded as time goes on. Anyhoo, here's some pics of some other deadly and or famous spheres from throughout our media culture and real life:
Saturday, May 9, 2015
Chapter Three- The Garage
Here we go.
-Mitch Johnson
There were so many toys to play with. But he really wanted to make a new one. He started with a large block of steel. Slipping it into the machine, he drew up a model on one of the high-tech computers on the table. He didn't know how he knew all the parts and pieces, but he did. For about an hour he walked around, starting other machines on other projects, then finally it was all done.
It was sleek, gleaming black in the white light. About two and a half feet long, this was the ticket, right here. It fired concussive blasts of compressed air taken from the environment to high ranges. A pneumatic rifle. He was quite happy. There was a matching set of armor he'd machined out, thin but strong. He fitted himself with the arm guards, shinguards, chest plate, faulds for his thighs, and face mask. There was one last thing to do.
He sat down at a computer. There was a sophisticated algorithm he could run which might just do the trick. He slowly typed. 4…1…1…4…9…1…1…5. The screen flashed with possible combinations, and he found what he was looking for, highlighted in yellow. DAMIAN, MOST PROBABLE MEANING. So that was his name. He left the computer running, and walked out.
The whole world had changed. Damian was standing in front of a huge door. The door was locked, and there were three holes of graduating size next to the handle. Curious. He walked left, down the hallway. He was listening. Plip. Whirrrrr. Bonk. So many sounds, sounds he'd never heard. But there! A soft creak was coming closer. He stepped around the corner, aimed, and almost dropped his gun. It was HUGE.
The sphere must have been the size of a small car. It whirled around and shot at him. He ducked, feeling the heat passing right over his head. This thing wasn't messing around. Rolling out of the crouch he aimed and shot, hitting its side. The blast spun it a little, but it readjusted and fired again, barely missing Damian as he dove again. He rose, blasting shot after shot into the space in the center. It creaked and spasmed, blasting shots left and right, and then slowly shut down. Damian approached the smoking mass cautiously, gun still shouldered. "This is not good," he said to nobody in particular.
Hunter watched intently, replaying the scene over and over again. The weren't any visible projectiles coming from the gun, but he could just make out a disturbance in the air. Whistling softly to himself, he smiled. "You sly dog, you made yourself a pneumatic gun." He called over an assistant. "I think we may have a real winner here," he said. The assistant merely nodded, watching the footage.
well Imma gonna end here, but there'll be more tomorrow. Here's what I had in mind when I was talking about a pneumatic gun:
-Mitch Johnson
There were so many toys to play with. But he really wanted to make a new one. He started with a large block of steel. Slipping it into the machine, he drew up a model on one of the high-tech computers on the table. He didn't know how he knew all the parts and pieces, but he did. For about an hour he walked around, starting other machines on other projects, then finally it was all done.
It was sleek, gleaming black in the white light. About two and a half feet long, this was the ticket, right here. It fired concussive blasts of compressed air taken from the environment to high ranges. A pneumatic rifle. He was quite happy. There was a matching set of armor he'd machined out, thin but strong. He fitted himself with the arm guards, shinguards, chest plate, faulds for his thighs, and face mask. There was one last thing to do.
He sat down at a computer. There was a sophisticated algorithm he could run which might just do the trick. He slowly typed. 4…1…1…4…9…1…1…5. The screen flashed with possible combinations, and he found what he was looking for, highlighted in yellow. DAMIAN, MOST PROBABLE MEANING. So that was his name. He left the computer running, and walked out.
The whole world had changed. Damian was standing in front of a huge door. The door was locked, and there were three holes of graduating size next to the handle. Curious. He walked left, down the hallway. He was listening. Plip. Whirrrrr. Bonk. So many sounds, sounds he'd never heard. But there! A soft creak was coming closer. He stepped around the corner, aimed, and almost dropped his gun. It was HUGE.
The sphere must have been the size of a small car. It whirled around and shot at him. He ducked, feeling the heat passing right over his head. This thing wasn't messing around. Rolling out of the crouch he aimed and shot, hitting its side. The blast spun it a little, but it readjusted and fired again, barely missing Damian as he dove again. He rose, blasting shot after shot into the space in the center. It creaked and spasmed, blasting shots left and right, and then slowly shut down. Damian approached the smoking mass cautiously, gun still shouldered. "This is not good," he said to nobody in particular.
Hunter watched intently, replaying the scene over and over again. The weren't any visible projectiles coming from the gun, but he could just make out a disturbance in the air. Whistling softly to himself, he smiled. "You sly dog, you made yourself a pneumatic gun." He called over an assistant. "I think we may have a real winner here," he said. The assistant merely nodded, watching the footage.
well Imma gonna end here, but there'll be more tomorrow. Here's what I had in mind when I was talking about a pneumatic gun:
Sunday, May 3, 2015
Chapter 2 continued...
Well folks I'm back. And I realize that I forgot a pic from friday's blog. I seem to do that a lot. So it'll be down below along with today's.
It was some sort of small sphere, made out of dully shining metal, with a small appendage coming out of it. The strange digit gripped the ground and then retracted, dragging the sphere forward with it. It kept crawling, heading towards him. He didn't know what to do. As it progressed he saw another come from out of a distant hall. He looked back to the first one. It continued on its path, but suddenly stopped when it was about a meter away. There was a high frequency screech, and then the sphere split in two. There was a big red eye-like lens in the center. The one down the hallway followed suit. And then they attacked.
There was a soft kind of puff and then he reeled backwards, yelling. He felt at his neck, and there was a small dart embedded near the base. He screamed again as the second fired at him, nailing him in the chest. He stepped back around the corner and ran.
There was a room that he knew how to get to. It had a large array of items he might be able to use to destroy whatever those… things were. He turned the corner and fell down in agony. There were two more of the spheres down the hall, and that meant two more darts in his flesh. He shoved himself up and kept going. As he rushed at the spheres he grabbed a small tray that was lying in the doorway of a room. As another dart came whistling at him he smacked it aside and threw the tray. It bowled one of the spheres over, and slid under the second. As he flew by, he stepped on the edge of the tray, sending the little ball through the air. He rounded the next corner and ducked into the first doorway, slamming the door closed. Sweating, he pulled the darts out of his skin, then looked up.
The room was gigantic, full of all sorts of parts and tools. There were saw and drills and welders. And there was a ton of metal. Somewhere inside himself he knew he could use this stuff. Knew how to use this stuff. He stood up and smiled. It was time to make some toys.
Hunter watched the screens carefully, a smile painted over his face. "He's found the Garage," he whispered to himself.
END OF CHAPTER TWO
So that's all folks. Here's my pic from friday, what I envisioned of as the facility.
It was some sort of small sphere, made out of dully shining metal, with a small appendage coming out of it. The strange digit gripped the ground and then retracted, dragging the sphere forward with it. It kept crawling, heading towards him. He didn't know what to do. As it progressed he saw another come from out of a distant hall. He looked back to the first one. It continued on its path, but suddenly stopped when it was about a meter away. There was a high frequency screech, and then the sphere split in two. There was a big red eye-like lens in the center. The one down the hallway followed suit. And then they attacked.
There was a soft kind of puff and then he reeled backwards, yelling. He felt at his neck, and there was a small dart embedded near the base. He screamed again as the second fired at him, nailing him in the chest. He stepped back around the corner and ran.
There was a room that he knew how to get to. It had a large array of items he might be able to use to destroy whatever those… things were. He turned the corner and fell down in agony. There were two more of the spheres down the hall, and that meant two more darts in his flesh. He shoved himself up and kept going. As he rushed at the spheres he grabbed a small tray that was lying in the doorway of a room. As another dart came whistling at him he smacked it aside and threw the tray. It bowled one of the spheres over, and slid under the second. As he flew by, he stepped on the edge of the tray, sending the little ball through the air. He rounded the next corner and ducked into the first doorway, slamming the door closed. Sweating, he pulled the darts out of his skin, then looked up.
The room was gigantic, full of all sorts of parts and tools. There were saw and drills and welders. And there was a ton of metal. Somewhere inside himself he knew he could use this stuff. Knew how to use this stuff. He stood up and smiled. It was time to make some toys.
Hunter watched the screens carefully, a smile painted over his face. "He's found the Garage," he whispered to himself.
END OF CHAPTER TWO
So that's all folks. Here's my pic from friday, what I envisioned of as the facility.
and here's todays, the Garage.
Friday, May 1, 2015
Chapter Two- The Neo-Evolution Worldwide movement
Here's a bunch more of chapter two for y'all.
Hunter Lars III paced the floor, his eyes sweeping the room. There were lab assistants everywhere, white coats turned towards him as the monitored their screens. Every so often there would be a bleep and then more typing. But mostly watching.
The Neo-Evolution Worldwide movement was working as hard as it could to process the data for the experiment. So far everything was okay, but there were so many factors it just seemed like anything could go wrong. He sighed, turning towards a passing worker. "How is it going?" he asked in a whisper.
The man nodded. "After his initial shock, he went into a bit of a recession. But he's up and roaming now, and everything seems to be going okay. We should be ready to start more intense tests soon." He adjusted his glasses, nodded once again, then went back to work. Hunter grunted, then turned and walked out of the screening room.
The room was empty, and Hunter felt just a twinge of melancholy at the nice furnishings, expensive tables, and costly draperies. Such grand furnishings, and at the end of the world. He shook his head and sat down. The world faded to black as he closed his eyes and nodded off slowly.
He sat up. At first he didn't know where he was. But it all came rushing back to him. Trapped, He thought slowly, sleep still grasping him gently. Trapped like a sorry lab rat, running around, searching for the cheese. Because that's really what he was. A rat. Subject 41149115. Groaning, he stood and looked around. He'd been wandering around for three days now, alone in this facility. And every morning there was… bingo. A small breakfast, waiting for him, and a pack full of lunch and dinner. He didn't know where it came from. It was just there. Didn't really matter to him, anyway.
He was just about to grab a sausage, when he heard it. It stopped him in his tracks. He listened intently, and it sounded again. A faint tinkle like a note from a broken music box. And it was closer the second time. He slowly stood up, and walked to the corner off the hall. Inch by inch he looked around the turn.
And he saw the strangest thing he'd ever seen.
That's where I'm stopping muahaha. more tomorrow. Night, everyone.
Hunter Lars III paced the floor, his eyes sweeping the room. There were lab assistants everywhere, white coats turned towards him as the monitored their screens. Every so often there would be a bleep and then more typing. But mostly watching.
The Neo-Evolution Worldwide movement was working as hard as it could to process the data for the experiment. So far everything was okay, but there were so many factors it just seemed like anything could go wrong. He sighed, turning towards a passing worker. "How is it going?" he asked in a whisper.
The man nodded. "After his initial shock, he went into a bit of a recession. But he's up and roaming now, and everything seems to be going okay. We should be ready to start more intense tests soon." He adjusted his glasses, nodded once again, then went back to work. Hunter grunted, then turned and walked out of the screening room.
The room was empty, and Hunter felt just a twinge of melancholy at the nice furnishings, expensive tables, and costly draperies. Such grand furnishings, and at the end of the world. He shook his head and sat down. The world faded to black as he closed his eyes and nodded off slowly.
He sat up. At first he didn't know where he was. But it all came rushing back to him. Trapped, He thought slowly, sleep still grasping him gently. Trapped like a sorry lab rat, running around, searching for the cheese. Because that's really what he was. A rat. Subject 41149115. Groaning, he stood and looked around. He'd been wandering around for three days now, alone in this facility. And every morning there was… bingo. A small breakfast, waiting for him, and a pack full of lunch and dinner. He didn't know where it came from. It was just there. Didn't really matter to him, anyway.
He was just about to grab a sausage, when he heard it. It stopped him in his tracks. He listened intently, and it sounded again. A faint tinkle like a note from a broken music box. And it was closer the second time. He slowly stood up, and walked to the corner off the hall. Inch by inch he looked around the turn.
And he saw the strangest thing he'd ever seen.
That's where I'm stopping muahaha. more tomorrow. Night, everyone.
Sunday, April 26, 2015
Chapter Two
Well, I looked today and saw that I got a whopping 8 page views. You guys are smothering me, haha.
I've worked a bit on chapter two, and so here's what I've got.
He opened his eyes, then winced and closed them. It was overwhelmingly bright. He put a hand up, and cracked an eye open. Everything was white. The floors, the ceiling, the table… all white. He sat up and took a look around. Hospital, he thought to himself. For some reason he had a nagging feeling that he should be dead, but couldn't remember why. In fact, he couldn't remember anything leading up to when he'd woken up. He pushed off the exam table he'd been laying on and looked around. There wasn't a single person around. Feeling a bit cautious, he grabbed a scalpel from a white gurney on his way to the door. He found it unlocked.
The hallway was empty. Not just devoid of people, but desolate of everything. It was a mirror image, the way to the left mirroring the way to the right. Except for one thing: one had a blue arrow at the end and one had a red arrow. Odd. There was something disturbing, something that he couldn't put his foot on. He sat down and thought hard. Gasping, he realized what it was. He didn't know who the heck he was.
He shimmied back up the wall, trying to stay calm. He was in an unfamiliar place, a hospital most likely, and couldn't remember who he was. Clearly he'd suffered some sort of brain injury. He just needed to find somebody else. He looked left, then right. He chose left.
The hallway turned when he reached the arrow. Down at the end was a large television screen. He approached it slowly, not sure what to do. There was a flash across the blackness and then there was a man staring down at him. The man smiled warmly, approaching creepy. "Hello, Subject 41149115. I hope that you are not too alarmed."
He only shook his head in disbelief. "Where am I?," he whispered.
I'll type the rest next week. I'm looking at having two chapters done a week from now on, so stay posted.
My picture for this blog is actually going to be of Damian. I sketched it in my boredom. I'll have it in Mrs. Krieger's room tomorrow.
I've worked a bit on chapter two, and so here's what I've got.
He opened his eyes, then winced and closed them. It was overwhelmingly bright. He put a hand up, and cracked an eye open. Everything was white. The floors, the ceiling, the table… all white. He sat up and took a look around. Hospital, he thought to himself. For some reason he had a nagging feeling that he should be dead, but couldn't remember why. In fact, he couldn't remember anything leading up to when he'd woken up. He pushed off the exam table he'd been laying on and looked around. There wasn't a single person around. Feeling a bit cautious, he grabbed a scalpel from a white gurney on his way to the door. He found it unlocked.
The hallway was empty. Not just devoid of people, but desolate of everything. It was a mirror image, the way to the left mirroring the way to the right. Except for one thing: one had a blue arrow at the end and one had a red arrow. Odd. There was something disturbing, something that he couldn't put his foot on. He sat down and thought hard. Gasping, he realized what it was. He didn't know who the heck he was.
He shimmied back up the wall, trying to stay calm. He was in an unfamiliar place, a hospital most likely, and couldn't remember who he was. Clearly he'd suffered some sort of brain injury. He just needed to find somebody else. He looked left, then right. He chose left.
The hallway turned when he reached the arrow. Down at the end was a large television screen. He approached it slowly, not sure what to do. There was a flash across the blackness and then there was a man staring down at him. The man smiled warmly, approaching creepy. "Hello, Subject 41149115. I hope that you are not too alarmed."
He only shook his head in disbelief. "Where am I?," he whispered.
I'll type the rest next week. I'm looking at having two chapters done a week from now on, so stay posted.
My picture for this blog is actually going to be of Damian. I sketched it in my boredom. I'll have it in Mrs. Krieger's room tomorrow.
Saturday, April 18, 2015
End of Chapter One
Here's the ending to chapter one of my book. Whew, writing is hard….
He glanced left and right again, then chose to go left. His footfalls thudded dully upon the floor as he passed by each hallway. There! He staggered to a halt, his legs and side hurting. There was an exit sign above a grey door at the end. Its warm red glow made Damian smile. He ran for it, stopping at a small white box on the wall. It had a flashing blue button on it, and he pressed it in for a moment. An emergency alarm rang, and blue lights flashed to life everywhere. That would evacuate anybody left in the building, hopefully. A squeak, like boot leather caught his attention. He was being followed. He backed away slowly, and quietly walked the rest of the way. As he reached for the door he heard a soft whiff. Just as his hand touched the cool steel handle he staggered under a sharp pain in his shoulder. He turned to see a man pointing a long gun at him from down the hall. The man smiled and snickered.
"Gotcha," he said.
Damain reached back and felt for a bullet wound, but all he felt were feathers. Feathers? He suddenly dropped to the floor, disoriented and unable to move through the thick haze that had been his mind. He looked up and saw the boots walking towards him slowly. Crap, he thought.
Then the corridor exploded in a flash of white and orange, and Damian saw the boots no more.
Hunter Lars III sat in his chair, watching to footage. He wasn't disappointed by what he saw. There was something to be exploited about this young anarchist… and if not, well, he'd soon fin himself dead once again. He picked up a phone, pressed the button, and spoke. "Bring in the body."
Hope that anybody who is reading this is enjoying it. I really love it. It gives me a chance to be really creative. Anyways, I'll have the full Chapter One printed out for anybody who wants to read the full deal and stuff. My inspiration for what's coming up actually came from two sources: Valve's Portal 2, and The Maze Runner.
Be prepared for something to happen, cuz something always happens I suppose.
He glanced left and right again, then chose to go left. His footfalls thudded dully upon the floor as he passed by each hallway. There! He staggered to a halt, his legs and side hurting. There was an exit sign above a grey door at the end. Its warm red glow made Damian smile. He ran for it, stopping at a small white box on the wall. It had a flashing blue button on it, and he pressed it in for a moment. An emergency alarm rang, and blue lights flashed to life everywhere. That would evacuate anybody left in the building, hopefully. A squeak, like boot leather caught his attention. He was being followed. He backed away slowly, and quietly walked the rest of the way. As he reached for the door he heard a soft whiff. Just as his hand touched the cool steel handle he staggered under a sharp pain in his shoulder. He turned to see a man pointing a long gun at him from down the hall. The man smiled and snickered.
"Gotcha," he said.
Damain reached back and felt for a bullet wound, but all he felt were feathers. Feathers? He suddenly dropped to the floor, disoriented and unable to move through the thick haze that had been his mind. He looked up and saw the boots walking towards him slowly. Crap, he thought.
Then the corridor exploded in a flash of white and orange, and Damian saw the boots no more.
Hunter Lars III sat in his chair, watching to footage. He wasn't disappointed by what he saw. There was something to be exploited about this young anarchist… and if not, well, he'd soon fin himself dead once again. He picked up a phone, pressed the button, and spoke. "Bring in the body."
Hope that anybody who is reading this is enjoying it. I really love it. It gives me a chance to be really creative. Anyways, I'll have the full Chapter One printed out for anybody who wants to read the full deal and stuff. My inspiration for what's coming up actually came from two sources: Valve's Portal 2, and The Maze Runner.
Be prepared for something to happen, cuz something always happens I suppose.
Monday, April 13, 2015
Pff whoops
Just realized, I forgot a pic in my numero quatro post, I'd meant to add it. Here is is, a gun that looks relatively like my idea of the LARCO SMG
Sorry
I'm sorry I was unable to post last week. We had to replace some of our computer thingies that were faulty and we bought a new modem. But now I can post again!
I've been researching what types of books have been trending. My first search took me to a site that dealt in the types of books that make the most money. Here they are:
5) Horror- at number 5, horror surprised me (hahaha…). I hadn't really expected it to be up that high. I love horror though. Just ask Monica, I'm a serial killer.
4) Fantasy- my favorite genre. It's the best. No more discussion. Everybody knows Lord of the Rings, Harry Potter, and such.
3) Religious/Inspirational- Um, well I can't really say much about this genre. I know that Unbroken was one of the top 3 best books I've ever read, though, and I'd say that it was pretty inspirational.
2) Mystery- mystery is, well, elementary, my dear reader. That's why books like Sherlock Holmes continue to baffle and entertain us through the ages.
1) Romance/ Erotica- well this is number one… can't really say too much in support of it. Talk to Orion, he's like an expert or writer or something.
Anyways, I found evidence after a little searching that dystopian books are trending. That's what I thought, and that's what I'm writing about because that's what I'm in the mood for.
What should I write on in my next post? What kinds of books do you like? Who reads this?
I need answers people.
I'm sorry I don't have any more of my book at the moment, it's on a school computer.
To close, I'd like to show a list of the top ten most read books of all time: The only really important one is LOTR though
I've been researching what types of books have been trending. My first search took me to a site that dealt in the types of books that make the most money. Here they are:
5) Horror- at number 5, horror surprised me (hahaha…). I hadn't really expected it to be up that high. I love horror though. Just ask Monica, I'm a serial killer.
4) Fantasy- my favorite genre. It's the best. No more discussion. Everybody knows Lord of the Rings, Harry Potter, and such.
3) Religious/Inspirational- Um, well I can't really say much about this genre. I know that Unbroken was one of the top 3 best books I've ever read, though, and I'd say that it was pretty inspirational.
2) Mystery- mystery is, well, elementary, my dear reader. That's why books like Sherlock Holmes continue to baffle and entertain us through the ages.
1) Romance/ Erotica- well this is number one… can't really say too much in support of it. Talk to Orion, he's like an expert or writer or something.
Anyways, I found evidence after a little searching that dystopian books are trending. That's what I thought, and that's what I'm writing about because that's what I'm in the mood for.
What should I write on in my next post? What kinds of books do you like? Who reads this?
I need answers people.
I'm sorry I don't have any more of my book at the moment, it's on a school computer.
To close, I'd like to show a list of the top ten most read books of all time: The only really important one is LOTR though
Friday, March 27, 2015
Novel Cont. Numero Quatro
Hello everyone, I'm back, and I've written a bunch for my novel, so here it is.
Damian looked up sharply. He had to move, or he'd be caught between the blast and LARCO's private military forces. Shrugging the satchel back over his shoulder, he grabbed the disk and ran. The tunnel walls blurred into grey streaks beside him as he sprinted. Gasping, he reached the elevator. His hand grasped the lever, but it wouldn't budge. He backed away slowly as the doors began to open.
The first soldier took a step from the opening. He was a light infantryman, armed with a submachine gun. He raised it to his shoulder to fire, but he was a split second too slow. His helmet shattered as Damian's first shot ripped through it. His body hit the floor mere moments before those of his companions. Damian stepped over the corpses and into the elevator.
There was an SMG on the floor. Damian picked it up and inspected it. It was just a standard issue LARCO SF90. It was already primed, and he shouldered it. The elevator reached the top of the shaft, and the doors slid open. Peeking around the corner, he saw nothing. He took a tentative step out, and that was his mistake.
He hadn't checked the other side. A soldier tackled him to the floor, stabbing down with a serrated combat knife. Damian raised the gun to block, and sparks flew at the contact. He batted away the second stab, and punched the man in the face. The soldier rolled, dragging Damian over as well. Damian kicked underneath him, breaking free of the grip, and stumbled to his feet. He'd dropped his gun, and the soldier was now standing in front of it. The soldier grinned, stepping forward and thrusting at Damian's chest. Damian reacted swiftly, redirecting the lunge and placing one hand under the man's hand, which was clenching the blade, and one on the side of the blade itself. He twisted his hands and the man's wrist shattered. Yelling, the assailant doubled over in agony, then looked up. Damian's boot caught him in the temple, and he crumpled. Damian reclaimed his gun and ran down the hall.
There were doors, everywhere, and about a million hallways. Damian looked about, frantically searching for the right one. They all looked the same. There was a deep rumbling, and he took off at a fast jog. The bomb would go off at any minute, and he was still in the building.
Damian looked up sharply. He had to move, or he'd be caught between the blast and LARCO's private military forces. Shrugging the satchel back over his shoulder, he grabbed the disk and ran. The tunnel walls blurred into grey streaks beside him as he sprinted. Gasping, he reached the elevator. His hand grasped the lever, but it wouldn't budge. He backed away slowly as the doors began to open.
The first soldier took a step from the opening. He was a light infantryman, armed with a submachine gun. He raised it to his shoulder to fire, but he was a split second too slow. His helmet shattered as Damian's first shot ripped through it. His body hit the floor mere moments before those of his companions. Damian stepped over the corpses and into the elevator.
There was an SMG on the floor. Damian picked it up and inspected it. It was just a standard issue LARCO SF90. It was already primed, and he shouldered it. The elevator reached the top of the shaft, and the doors slid open. Peeking around the corner, he saw nothing. He took a tentative step out, and that was his mistake.
He hadn't checked the other side. A soldier tackled him to the floor, stabbing down with a serrated combat knife. Damian raised the gun to block, and sparks flew at the contact. He batted away the second stab, and punched the man in the face. The soldier rolled, dragging Damian over as well. Damian kicked underneath him, breaking free of the grip, and stumbled to his feet. He'd dropped his gun, and the soldier was now standing in front of it. The soldier grinned, stepping forward and thrusting at Damian's chest. Damian reacted swiftly, redirecting the lunge and placing one hand under the man's hand, which was clenching the blade, and one on the side of the blade itself. He twisted his hands and the man's wrist shattered. Yelling, the assailant doubled over in agony, then looked up. Damian's boot caught him in the temple, and he crumpled. Damian reclaimed his gun and ran down the hall.
There were doors, everywhere, and about a million hallways. Damian looked about, frantically searching for the right one. They all looked the same. There was a deep rumbling, and he took off at a fast jog. The bomb would go off at any minute, and he was still in the building.
Sunday, March 22, 2015
Novel Continuation #3
Sorry this is a bit late, I went out of town and my blog wasn't ready until today.
Here's a bit more of my novel, then on to buisness.
It would have to be fast. Damian grabbed a small case out of his jacket pocket. There were three small syringes inside, filled with tranquilizers. He picked one out, tested it by pushing the plunger a bit, then pointed his gun above him at the camera. The bullet took the camera through the power cord and then continued out of the other side with a small clang. The guard turned around just as Damian jabbed him with the syringe. He gasped and dropped to the floor. Damian ran past him and kicked the startled engineer in the face as he looked up, using the force of the follow-through to turn him towards the scientist. The scientist, an older man with peppered hair, stood still, looking at the gun pointed at him.
"Turn around, and run out that door," Damian said, gesturing towards the exit.
The man hesitated. He'd be punished for running. Damian gestured again. "Run now." The man nodded slowly, then ran out the door. Setting his pistol down, Damian moved to the computer. It was running a complex system for monitoring the reactor. He closed it and opened up the database from the desktop. He got a request for an access code. There was a disc-shaped machine the size of his thumb in his pocket. He pulled it out, and inserted the adaptor into the port of the computer. It began running a series of algorithms to crack the access code. He walked over to the reactor. It was a large metal cylinder covered in pipes and pressure valves. Damian opened the satchel, and pulled out the explosives. He pressed them to the metal, then connected the wires to the detonator. Behind him, there was a beep as the disk finished its job. Then the alarms went off.
I hope you are all enjoying my blog (not quite sure who actually reads this), but I have been trying to write while listening to music, and it actually does work. Music helps me think, and I've found that I am a lot more creative if I'm listening to music. Fast paced music works best, as listening to Pachebel's Canon just puts me to sleep. For those of you wanting to write, you should definitely listen to music as a booster.
Here's the band who inspired me to write this book, actually: Fun.
Here's a bit more of my novel, then on to buisness.
It would have to be fast. Damian grabbed a small case out of his jacket pocket. There were three small syringes inside, filled with tranquilizers. He picked one out, tested it by pushing the plunger a bit, then pointed his gun above him at the camera. The bullet took the camera through the power cord and then continued out of the other side with a small clang. The guard turned around just as Damian jabbed him with the syringe. He gasped and dropped to the floor. Damian ran past him and kicked the startled engineer in the face as he looked up, using the force of the follow-through to turn him towards the scientist. The scientist, an older man with peppered hair, stood still, looking at the gun pointed at him.
"Turn around, and run out that door," Damian said, gesturing towards the exit.
The man hesitated. He'd be punished for running. Damian gestured again. "Run now." The man nodded slowly, then ran out the door. Setting his pistol down, Damian moved to the computer. It was running a complex system for monitoring the reactor. He closed it and opened up the database from the desktop. He got a request for an access code. There was a disc-shaped machine the size of his thumb in his pocket. He pulled it out, and inserted the adaptor into the port of the computer. It began running a series of algorithms to crack the access code. He walked over to the reactor. It was a large metal cylinder covered in pipes and pressure valves. Damian opened the satchel, and pulled out the explosives. He pressed them to the metal, then connected the wires to the detonator. Behind him, there was a beep as the disk finished its job. Then the alarms went off.
I hope you are all enjoying my blog (not quite sure who actually reads this), but I have been trying to write while listening to music, and it actually does work. Music helps me think, and I've found that I am a lot more creative if I'm listening to music. Fast paced music works best, as listening to Pachebel's Canon just puts me to sleep. For those of you wanting to write, you should definitely listen to music as a booster.
Here's the band who inspired me to write this book, actually: Fun.
Sunday, March 15, 2015
A Continuation: Novel Installment #2
Well, I need to keep up with what I've been writing. I've written a lot since I posted the first part of my book in the comments section on another post back in February. So, here's a little bit more. I'll try to add these in every blog from now on.
The LARCO guard stood, shuffling his feet against the cold. Every so often someone would walk up, flash a card at him, then step through the gates. He coughed, shivering despite his coat. At least he had a coat. Many people didn't. A young man approached him and flashed a card, then headed for the gate. The guard drew his club, rushing over. The man turned just as the club hit with a dull thud. He doubled over. The guard dealt another savage blow. "That is not a valid card," he roared, winding up again. The man cowered behind the card. "Yes it is," he groaned. "It's a temporary… I just got it."
The guard looked. It was indeed a temporary. But… that wasn't the original card…. was it? He wasn't sure. No matter, the card was valid. He picked the man up from off of the ground. "Sorry, friend," he said. The found man dusted himself off. "It's okay," he mumbled. Walking through the gates, he dropped his temporary through the shredding grate.
Damian rubbed his arm, wincing slightly. Those clubs hurt. He hated wasting a temporary, but the guard hadn't fallen for his fake. He walked down the hall, climbed the stairs, and turned left. There was a small elevator, made for sending small loads down a shaft to the generator room in the basement tunnels. He stepped inside, pulled the lever, and sat down.
The ride was boring. LARCO ads played continually, advertising for everything from hardhats to coat hangers. Damian sighed, waiting fro the doors to open. They did, and he stood, peering out. Nobody. He walked out, unzipped his jacket, and pulled out a pistol. Reaching into his pocket, he pulled out a long container. It was meant to hold medication, but Damian had modified the metal tube to fit onto his gun. He screwed it on to the end of the pistol. If he had to kill anyone, it would at least be silent. He jogged down the tunnel, following signs leading to the reactor where the building produced energy. There was a set of large doors at the end.
Damian turned the handle and carefully pushed the door in. Seeing nobody, he quietly stepped in. Standing ahead, the was an armed guard overseeing an engineer working n the reactor as a scientist typed away at a worktable. Damian groaned inwardly.
That's where I'm stopping for now, but there'll be more next blog. Here's where I drew my inspiration from for the tunnels and the reactor room. Gorgeous, I know.
The LARCO guard stood, shuffling his feet against the cold. Every so often someone would walk up, flash a card at him, then step through the gates. He coughed, shivering despite his coat. At least he had a coat. Many people didn't. A young man approached him and flashed a card, then headed for the gate. The guard drew his club, rushing over. The man turned just as the club hit with a dull thud. He doubled over. The guard dealt another savage blow. "That is not a valid card," he roared, winding up again. The man cowered behind the card. "Yes it is," he groaned. "It's a temporary… I just got it."
The guard looked. It was indeed a temporary. But… that wasn't the original card…. was it? He wasn't sure. No matter, the card was valid. He picked the man up from off of the ground. "Sorry, friend," he said. The found man dusted himself off. "It's okay," he mumbled. Walking through the gates, he dropped his temporary through the shredding grate.
Damian rubbed his arm, wincing slightly. Those clubs hurt. He hated wasting a temporary, but the guard hadn't fallen for his fake. He walked down the hall, climbed the stairs, and turned left. There was a small elevator, made for sending small loads down a shaft to the generator room in the basement tunnels. He stepped inside, pulled the lever, and sat down.
The ride was boring. LARCO ads played continually, advertising for everything from hardhats to coat hangers. Damian sighed, waiting fro the doors to open. They did, and he stood, peering out. Nobody. He walked out, unzipped his jacket, and pulled out a pistol. Reaching into his pocket, he pulled out a long container. It was meant to hold medication, but Damian had modified the metal tube to fit onto his gun. He screwed it on to the end of the pistol. If he had to kill anyone, it would at least be silent. He jogged down the tunnel, following signs leading to the reactor where the building produced energy. There was a set of large doors at the end.
Damian turned the handle and carefully pushed the door in. Seeing nobody, he quietly stepped in. Standing ahead, the was an armed guard overseeing an engineer working n the reactor as a scientist typed away at a worktable. Damian groaned inwardly.
That's where I'm stopping for now, but there'll be more next blog. Here's where I drew my inspiration from for the tunnels and the reactor room. Gorgeous, I know.
Friday, March 6, 2015
My First Titled Blog: What is a Character?!
Hello again!
Characters are difficult things, let me tell you. By definition, a character is just a person in a literary work or movie. BUT, they are more than that. How many people have ever cried when their favorite character died, got outraged when the main hero was betrayed, or swooned at the sappy romances in teen novels. Well, that'd be pretty much everyone, I suppose. In my quest to write a novel or two I'm looking at characters, because they're kind of important. Characters are my favorite part of books. I love to read about them, to learn about who they are and what makes them tick. It's almost like 'collecting' each individual, I guess. So, I've researched what makes a character a character.
I read about creating a believable, relatable character online. From what I read, it seems to me that you have to start with a name. I'd disagree, personally, but that's one way to do it. I like to start off with this question: What gap am I filling with this character? If you start with this question, it's easier to develop your character.
For example:
Your scene is a bar. Your protagonist is about to get a big promotion, and has come to have a quick drink as a celebration before going to work. He's decked out in his suit, standing at the bar, chatting with the bartender. Boring. You need something to spice up this scene. What you need is a member of a rival gang. What? I never mentioned that your protagonist works for the Mafia? That's because… he doesn't. But, your new 'rival gang member' doesn't know that. He's about to attack your dude because he LOOKS like a Mafia thug in his slick suit.
Now you have a 'What.' He will attack your protagonist… let's call that guy Bob because it's tiring to continually write 'protagonist.' You also have your 'Why.' Now you need a 'When.' When will this fight take place? How about after your new character walks in and sees Bob talking to the bartender, who is the Godfather's lead informant? Excellent. 'How…' as in, how is this fight going to go down? Well, Bob's going to get his can kicked, obviously. It's a tragic event, and he won't get to be there for his promotion! His boss will be ticked! Oh NO… hahaha. All you need now is the most important part: the 'Who.' Not the band, but the last question (har har har). Well, we know he's a thug. He's suspicious. He's tough. Let's call him… Bruno. It fits his description. Creating a backstory should be easy from there.
So that's a small lesson on what I think it takes to make a character! Here's a pic of my favorite artist, who olds that position because of his wonderful characters: Brandon Sanderson.
Characters are difficult things, let me tell you. By definition, a character is just a person in a literary work or movie. BUT, they are more than that. How many people have ever cried when their favorite character died, got outraged when the main hero was betrayed, or swooned at the sappy romances in teen novels. Well, that'd be pretty much everyone, I suppose. In my quest to write a novel or two I'm looking at characters, because they're kind of important. Characters are my favorite part of books. I love to read about them, to learn about who they are and what makes them tick. It's almost like 'collecting' each individual, I guess. So, I've researched what makes a character a character.
I read about creating a believable, relatable character online. From what I read, it seems to me that you have to start with a name. I'd disagree, personally, but that's one way to do it. I like to start off with this question: What gap am I filling with this character? If you start with this question, it's easier to develop your character.
For example:
Your scene is a bar. Your protagonist is about to get a big promotion, and has come to have a quick drink as a celebration before going to work. He's decked out in his suit, standing at the bar, chatting with the bartender. Boring. You need something to spice up this scene. What you need is a member of a rival gang. What? I never mentioned that your protagonist works for the Mafia? That's because… he doesn't. But, your new 'rival gang member' doesn't know that. He's about to attack your dude because he LOOKS like a Mafia thug in his slick suit.
Now you have a 'What.' He will attack your protagonist… let's call that guy Bob because it's tiring to continually write 'protagonist.' You also have your 'Why.' Now you need a 'When.' When will this fight take place? How about after your new character walks in and sees Bob talking to the bartender, who is the Godfather's lead informant? Excellent. 'How…' as in, how is this fight going to go down? Well, Bob's going to get his can kicked, obviously. It's a tragic event, and he won't get to be there for his promotion! His boss will be ticked! Oh NO… hahaha. All you need now is the most important part: the 'Who.' Not the band, but the last question (har har har). Well, we know he's a thug. He's suspicious. He's tough. Let's call him… Bruno. It fits his description. Creating a backstory should be easy from there.
So that's a small lesson on what I think it takes to make a character! Here's a pic of my favorite artist, who olds that position because of his wonderful characters: Brandon Sanderson.
Friday, February 27, 2015
Hello, this is blog number…. I have no idea, actually.
Anyhoo, I wanted to talk about where and when my novel takes place before I advance any farther with what I have written. My story takes place in America, 200 years into the future. America has been overrun by a corporation called Larco, headed by Lars Hatsen IV. The Lars Corporation dominated all aspects of manufacture during the mid- twenty first century. It created a company militia which repelled and conquered the armies of the world fighting against its domination. Larco has control over America, Australia, and the British Isles (The USL, Austricca, and The Waypoint Isles respectively). At the time that my story takes place, the USL has launched a campaign against Asia in an attempt to capture China. The last free superpowers are fighting back. New technology allows for devastating new tactics, and Larco has control of the best in the industry. Through it all, there is a secretive association devoted to subterfuge and sabotage which is attempting to dethrone Larco from behind the scenes. Who will bow first: the mighty omnipotent company, or the hidden group of survivors?
That's a background, I suppose.
I want to ask a question, to all of you who will read this: What do you think the city looks like?
post it below, I'd love to hear.
Here's my vision of it:
Anyhoo, I wanted to talk about where and when my novel takes place before I advance any farther with what I have written. My story takes place in America, 200 years into the future. America has been overrun by a corporation called Larco, headed by Lars Hatsen IV. The Lars Corporation dominated all aspects of manufacture during the mid- twenty first century. It created a company militia which repelled and conquered the armies of the world fighting against its domination. Larco has control over America, Australia, and the British Isles (The USL, Austricca, and The Waypoint Isles respectively). At the time that my story takes place, the USL has launched a campaign against Asia in an attempt to capture China. The last free superpowers are fighting back. New technology allows for devastating new tactics, and Larco has control of the best in the industry. Through it all, there is a secretive association devoted to subterfuge and sabotage which is attempting to dethrone Larco from behind the scenes. Who will bow first: the mighty omnipotent company, or the hidden group of survivors?
That's a background, I suppose.
I want to ask a question, to all of you who will read this: What do you think the city looks like?
post it below, I'd love to hear.
Here's my vision of it:
Monday, February 23, 2015
Well, I'm back. This is a make-up of last week's post (explained in the comments).
I have been studying J.R.R. Tolkien for my project. He is my favorite (well…. one of my favorites) author. Tolkien wrote many books, including The Lord of the Rings. Tolkien has a very distinctive, unique style about his writing. In it, he uses descriptions vividly and generously. Whole pages of his books can sometimes describe landscapes. I want to be able to use some of his style for my novel. What makes a book stand out so well? You can picture everything about the scenes in your mind, and feel the book come to life. SO, I'm gonna practice a bit. I want to know how anybody feels about this short… exercise, I guess.
"The forest was still. From the treetops of the emerald pines, a songbird flew down to its nest. The nest was small, only the size of one's palm, and was made of rough hickory twigs. The long, slender bodies of the twigs intertwined like a tapestry, or the waves of the sea. The bird pushed another twig into the nest, adjusted it, and flew off again. From up on high, in the cloudy land above, the land rolled and weaved. There were big boulders, embedded in the green hills, and shrubs here and there where the field creatures would eat. The bird climbed to the highest point around, to the top of a hill where a hickory tree grew. The tree was old, gnarled like an elderly poet bent down to write. Perching upon its boughs, the bird was on top of its world."
Okay, so there is that.
Anyways, I really need some feedback about my stuff (ITS IN THE COMMENTS SECTION) so, post some stuff people.
As I will always do if I have talked about an author, here is Tolkien. You should read his stuff, it's really quite good.
I have been studying J.R.R. Tolkien for my project. He is my favorite (well…. one of my favorites) author. Tolkien wrote many books, including The Lord of the Rings. Tolkien has a very distinctive, unique style about his writing. In it, he uses descriptions vividly and generously. Whole pages of his books can sometimes describe landscapes. I want to be able to use some of his style for my novel. What makes a book stand out so well? You can picture everything about the scenes in your mind, and feel the book come to life. SO, I'm gonna practice a bit. I want to know how anybody feels about this short… exercise, I guess.
"The forest was still. From the treetops of the emerald pines, a songbird flew down to its nest. The nest was small, only the size of one's palm, and was made of rough hickory twigs. The long, slender bodies of the twigs intertwined like a tapestry, or the waves of the sea. The bird pushed another twig into the nest, adjusted it, and flew off again. From up on high, in the cloudy land above, the land rolled and weaved. There were big boulders, embedded in the green hills, and shrubs here and there where the field creatures would eat. The bird climbed to the highest point around, to the top of a hill where a hickory tree grew. The tree was old, gnarled like an elderly poet bent down to write. Perching upon its boughs, the bird was on top of its world."
Okay, so there is that.
Anyways, I really need some feedback about my stuff (ITS IN THE COMMENTS SECTION) so, post some stuff people.
As I will always do if I have talked about an author, here is Tolkien. You should read his stuff, it's really quite good.
Friday, February 6, 2015
Well, I've decided to write a novel. I have thought a lot about what I want to write about, but am still not sure. I have some ideas I want to lay down, and I want an opinion on what to write about. I have been thinking about writing either a fantasy novel, or about a man who rises against a corrupt government. I ask for your opinion on what you'd like to have me write, and why, if possible.
It seems that writing a novel is harder than I'd thought. I've read a lot of books, and assumed I could write similarly. It's pretty difficult once you start, though. I've gotten a start on both of my ideas, just in case, and so far I've restarted the fantasy about, oh, fifteen times. It just doesn't feel perfect, whatever I write.
I wonder: Should I put snippets into my blogs so I can have advice, or no?
Lastly, I have begun my research. Veronica Roth (pictured) is a prominent author at the moment because of her successful Divergent series. She gave tips, as several authors I will study have done, in the back of her books on what she does to write. The one that has stuck out to me is listening to music. I love music, and I feel that it might be a great way to write. I'm going to try it, and report back about my experiences. I've seen other authors talk about drawing inspiration through music too. I'm curious to see how it goes.
Wish me luck, because the frustration is already setting in :)
It seems that writing a novel is harder than I'd thought. I've read a lot of books, and assumed I could write similarly. It's pretty difficult once you start, though. I've gotten a start on both of my ideas, just in case, and so far I've restarted the fantasy about, oh, fifteen times. It just doesn't feel perfect, whatever I write.
I wonder: Should I put snippets into my blogs so I can have advice, or no?
Lastly, I have begun my research. Veronica Roth (pictured) is a prominent author at the moment because of her successful Divergent series. She gave tips, as several authors I will study have done, in the back of her books on what she does to write. The one that has stuck out to me is listening to music. I love music, and I feel that it might be a great way to write. I'm going to try it, and report back about my experiences. I've seen other authors talk about drawing inspiration through music too. I'm curious to see how it goes.
Wish me luck, because the frustration is already setting in :)
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