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 :)
Do you feel like you have your own style? I definitely think you should share snippets.
ReplyDeletehi Mrs Kriger, this is Kendall.
DeleteI may post my blogs under the comments section (I explained in one of them I've posted there.) Also, I cannot post a blog next week as I will be unable to get to a computer anytime in the near future. Vacation is calling and that good stuff.
Thanks,
Kendall
So here is my preview of the first chapter of one of my ideas:
ReplyDeleteIt was snowing. The flakes came down slowly, blowing down the street then floating to the ground in their lethargy. Individually they weren't much, but together they covered the city in a pale dusting everywhere. Damian shivered and pulled his jacket closer around his shoulders. Winter wasn't really his thing. There was a bus stop ahead, and he sped up to reach it. The nine o'clock bus would arrive any minute. He brushed the snow off the bench and sat down. There was another person there, standing in the snow. An older man, dressed up in a dusty old windbreaker and an ill-fitting cap. Damian eyed him warily. The man shuffled and mumbled something in a garbled mixture of languages about finding 'un chat.' Damian relaxed a bit. The man was just deranged, much like most of the population in the city.
I will continue this later
Well, I just discovered that I can't post stuff on Blogspot unless I am using my mom's google account, through a great and glorious human error. As a result, I will now be blogging back and forth in the comments or in the blog based upon whether or not I have her on hand to log in. Furthermore, I am unable to sync my phone with my computer because they are incompatible, so I may have to just give Mrs. Krieger the pictures I have, if need be.
ReplyDeleteOh well.
Anyways, here is the continuation of my novel preview:
The bus pulled up. It was sleek and black, like a viper, and there seemed to be a void in the wintry world where it was, whiteness smothered by dark windows and tires and chassis. As he walked up to it, Damian read the words plastered across its side: YOU DESERVE THE BEST. LARCO HAS THE BEST. BUY THE BEST, WITH LARCO. The letters were rigid, gigantic, and blood red. Damian shook his head and walked into his ride. The seat at the far back was empty, and he sat down in it. Staring back up at him from the floor was a word. LARCO. Short for the Lars Corporation, that word was pure power. That word opened doors, because that word MADE the doors. If there was a single thing in the city that wasn't LARCO, well… there wasn't. LARCO was the heart of all there was, and that was that. Unless Damian had his way today.
He checked his watch. It was five after, and he'd be getting off soon. He looked up to find a small girl staring at him. She eyed him strangely from out of the corner of her eye, as though he was a strange creature. He smiled inside himself. It was because he wasn't wearing any clothes with big LARCOs emblazoned on them. That's because his clothes weren't made by the superpower, but not many noticed that fact. The child had a perceptive eye. But she was distracted now, listening to the endless advertising that played in the front of the bus. The bus slowed, and the doors opened. Damian found himself getting out of the bus, and walking down the street. Two rights and a left, and he was in an alleyway. His fingers brushed the stones of the building, counting. Seventeen, eighteen… twenty-two. He stopped and pulled out a small screwdriver from his pocket. There was a space in between the stones, and with a little effort he worked it out of the wall. In the alcove he had uncovered was a satchel. He pulled it out. It was made of leather, worn down by time and use until it cracked slightly. Damian dusted it off and put it aside. He replaced the block, and stooped down to the satchel. His fingers worked the buckles, and he opened it up. Inside: enough explosives to destroy several houses.
I hope you enjoyed this little preview. I am hoping for feedback, so let me know what you think!
Did you break Blogger? ;)
ReplyDelete