Ok, everyone here is talking about the "disease" of the writers block. Dave made it clear that its an excuse we use for being lazy. I have to agree. Its the hard fact of reality. I always make that excuse for two reasons: When i am being lazy and can't be bothered to write or when i am not in the "zone". Sometimes when i am in the zone i just sit on my computer and type, i type like the wind and the ideas come to me automatically. When they don't i go lazy.
Well i have two solutions for this, this one is my first solution i have posted. Dave has said before that we may get tired of playing one character and that we should maybe play with non-players, etc.
Why don't we have a whole entire short story sections. you can type up small stories, don't worry about the ideas, just type a complete whole story.
Then you can post it here under a title and even include questions at the end like: what can i do to improve the storyline, could i have ended it better, or do you like it?
If you don't have an idea then why not just write up something you have seen on tv. Ok this may sound boring but hear me out. Narrate something interesting you have seen and you want to share, and believe me, sometimes it maybe fun to actually type up what you have seen into words.....it gets you going.
ok, i have a two stories, one is an urdu drama and one is one of my own ideas which i wanted to turn into a book but i'll make a long stort story. I'll post these sometime soon, work onit over the weekend (my weekend is thurday and friday).
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Re: Writers block solution 1: Story writing
Not a bad idea. However, we're on dangerous ground here. It's too easy to tear apart a work in progress without allowing it to be just that, a work in progress. A story isn't done until it's done, and for us to presume that we can tell a writer how to improve her storyline or how to end it better might undermine her self-confidence.
I suggest--and this is just my feeling on the matter--limiting our comments to, "I liked that for this reason," or "I didn't like this for that reason." Be honest, but be positive. Allow the writer to digest your opinions and allow her to come up with her own viable solutions to the story.
Of course, as you suggested, if a writer comes right out and says, "How should I end this?" well, that's another story. (Punny, ain't I?)
Good thoughts, Saadia.
(Psst! Kristen. My brother's computer crashed and I never got a chance to read your Angel story. Can you believe it? I got caught up in other things, and now I can't read it because it's in computer hell. Maybe you could post it here.)
Er, okay. Allow me to raise my voice. That reminded me of an important point.
We're here to play LA By Night. This site is really fun for other reasons, but let's not lose sight. So if you post your short story here, don't be upset if no one comments. I find it hard keeping up the main storyline sometimes. Anymore, I rarely check in with the This or That game.
Allow me to single out Drew by name. Hi, Drew. I feel that you suffer from this. You post something and react negatively if no one responds right away. Give us a chance to read what you wrote. Such as that article on how a Buffy episode is constructed. For the record, once I got around to reading it, I thought it was GREAT. Thanks, buddy.
Writers block solution 1: Story writing
OK, I tried my best to make it smaller but it came out really long, sorry. Hope you like it. I put a lot of time into it. The story line is not mine but adapted from an Urdu drama. And the names and environment of the characters has changed, and no, not to protect them but because I didn’t remember their names. Speak your thought about it.
****************
The wooden box
Part 1
Tessa and James Burrows were a middle class family who had happily lived in their old home for as long as they could remember. They had been married there, they had had their first (and only) child there, little Billy, they had been their when little Billy had taken his first steps, and they had been there when little Billy had been accepted into a University. Little Billy, who was not so little any more, was now currently doing a good job in a respectable company and James had retired from his job. Billy worked in a small petroleum company, which was in the city; two days drive from where his parents lived as branch manager. Things couldn’t be happier for the family.
Until that day in February when Tessa and James received a letter from their landlord. It said the following:
That was the saddest day in the life of the Burrows. They had been asked to not only leave their home, but something that was somewhat a friend of theirs, and now they were leaving it.
Billy had taken a leave and came and helped his parents out of their old house and into a new one, which was cheap, affordable and quickly found in such short time. So off they moved, with a heavy heart, into their new home. Billy lived in an accommodation provided to him by the Petroleum Company but for the first few days he stayed with his parents to help them settle in. After that life moved on again as before, only the Burrows seemed a little less happy, but life moved on.
One day Tessa was cleaning out the basement of their new home when she found the box. *hmmm, this looks like a nice antique wooden box. And so lovely too. I wonder why it was left by the family who had lived here previously* So Tessa took the box and placed it as a decoration piece and forgot about it.
It was a Sunday afternoon and Tessa was in the kitchen cooking a meal and James was reading the newspaper as usual. “Hey Tessa, come and listen to this!” James said.
Tessa came out of the kitchen, clean her hands on her apron. “What is it honey?”
He held out his newspaper and showed her a picture of a couple. Tessa took the paper to read the caption, which said that the couple had won 10Kg of gold, and Mercedes Benz, and two days and day nights free stay in the Bahamas. “So what, people win like that every day.” Tessa replied once she had read the entire article on the couple.
“Well, we don’t. I am not trying to be ungrateful for what gave us but still we are not as rich as we would like to be.”
Tessa looked at him “James, you are being ungrateful. We may not have a big bank account, we may not have a bank account, and we may live in a small house but we still have each other and a roof above our heads and food to eat, what more can you ask for?”
James had a mischievous glint in his eyes. He took a piece of paper and pen and handed it to her. “You know Tes, let’s for one day make believe we could get anything we want, anything at all, what would it be. Write down the thing you most desire. Go on”
“Oh James, this is so childish.”
“Come on Tes, it’ll be fun, we’ll both write something down and see whose wish is most dreamsome. Come on…”
Tes sighed “OK James, but I am still very grateful for what I have.’
They both sat down across each other and started to write. Tessa finished first. James took her piece of paper and gave her his. Tessa read James’ wish and started laughing.
“I wish I was the richest man on Earth, with the world’s most expensive cars and dined in the world’s most expensive restaurants!” Tessa said, reading out loud. “That is the most unrealistic wish I have ever seen!”
James started laughing too. “Oh and look what you wrote. ‘I wish I could win the cooking contest next Thursday!’”
Tessa pouted, “Well, at least mines more realistic.” She said and went back to her kitchen.
James chuckled “That wife of mine. She is so cute.” He got up and folded his wife’s wish. “I have to show it to Billy.” He walked up to a near by table and put the piece of paper in a small wooden box. “There, Tes shouldn’t be able to find it there before Billy shows up.”
*********
Part 2
“James, hurry we’ll be late!”
James took his coat from its hanging place. “I got them, lets go” He called back.
Tessa was holding her baked Alaska, the contestant for the show, and opened the door. “Oh I hope they don’t start without me.”
James followed Tessa out and they both made their way towards the bus stop. “I don’t know why you are so panicked. First of all, I don’t know why you give a darn about the cooking show, secondly, you are a really good cook, you are sure to win.”
“Thanks for the sweet words, but I maybe good but I am not good enough compared to that Jessica. I swear, you give her a dish of fertilizer and she’ll make something edible out of it, which could easily beat my baked Alaska.” She replied, depressed.
“Oh come on, I am sure you desert can beat any dish of shit…..or can it!” He teased.
Tessa elbowed him. “Hah, very funny.”
Both of them had reached the bus stop and waited until the bus came. The bus arrived, they climbed into it and after thirty minutes of traveling reached the park where the contest was being held.
**********
Part 3
“Well, congratulations Mom, I knew you could do it.” Said Billy.
“Actually I was slightly doubtful about it but, hey, who knew Jessica would slip and sprain her hip.”
“James, you take that right back. Poor Jesse and you making jokes at her.” Replied Tessa, a little angry.
“I take it back. Hey Billy boy, you know, we were having this game of who could wish the highest out of the two of us. Guess what your mom wrote!”
Billy shrugged, “It’d be really funny if she wrote about winning first prize at the cooking show.”
James snickered, while Tessa rolled her eyes and went towards the kitchen.
Billy started to laugh too. “Oh, you must be joking! Mom wrote that!”
James got up and went towards the wooden box. “I swear, I’ll show you.” He opened the box and took out the piece of paper and handed it to Billy.
Billy unfolded the paper and read it. “Wow, Mom’s really serious when it comes to her cooking. And lemme guess, you put that little “granted” as a joke, didn’t you.”
James looked puzzeled. “What are you talking about?”
Billy showed him the piece of paper.
James looked at it and it was the same as it had been, with the wish written in Tessa’s writing only there in the corner of the page was a single word in a small writing:- Granted.
James looked even more puzzeled. “No, I didn’t do that.”
“I didn’t do that at all……”
*********
Part 4
“Are you trying to tell me that we have a Voodoo wooden box that grants wishes!” James didn’t know whether Tessa was on the verge of exploding in to hysterical laughter or slapping him in the face for not even giving her credit for her cooking.
“Look, I didn’t do that “granted” scribble and I was the only one who knew it was in that box. And do you think it’s such a big coincidence that Jessica sprained a hip and you won!”
Tessa looked thoughtful for a moment. “You know I don’t believe in that stuff.” She said quietly.
James sighed “Look, maybe I just imagined it, OK. Lets just not talk about it.”
“Yes lets not.” Tessa looked over at the box lying there on the table. “Lets not talk about it.”
James also looked over at the table and found himself looking at a delicately made wooden box, with no lock and no key on it. It just sat there innocently and James looked hard at it, almost as if ready for the box to leap up at him.
*************
Part 5
Six months later.
Tessa took her gardening tools and started pruning her rose bushes. She had been there for two hours and still she didn’t feel tired at all. Gardening was like a form of meditation to her. To calm her down or give her energy.
James had gone off early to the bank. It seemed that there was a slight problem with their loan payment (a loan they had taken to buy their new house) and James had gone to get the problem straightened. Tessa wanted to send Billy but her husband didn’t want to bother their son, from his job.
Tessa heard the front gate opened and looked up to see James walking in, papers in one hand, looking rather depressed. He looked at Tessa and motioned her to come inside the house. Tessa had a bad feeling as she dropped her tools and took off her gloves and followed her husband into their home.
When Tessa had poured lemonade into two glasses and they had both sat down, James started to speak.
“Tes, I have bad news.”
*You don’t say* thought Tessa, but kept quite.
“While I was at the bank they said that our loan had been called in. They said that our current payments were a bit too slow and that within two weeks time we have to come up with the rest of the payment we owe.”
Tessa looked at him “What are you saying, that we are supposed to come up with…what, $30,000!”
“$25,500” He interrupted her.
“Whatever! In TWO WEEKS! Have they lost it? Do banks just like people to SUFFER!” She lost her temper and James just stayed quite.
Finally he spoke. “They are the bank. It was in the contract we signed. If they feel we can’t carry out the payments in due time, they have the right to pay them.”
“Well, what if we don’t pay, what if we tell them to take that contract and sh..”
“Tes!”
“No, can’t we tell them that? Huh!”
“No, we can’t. If we don’t pay them then they will take this house away and all the payments we have already paid them will just be lost. Into their pockets.”
Tessa tried to control her temper. She took the glass of lemonade and took a sip. Then threw it at the wall. The glass shattered and lemonade sprayed all over the floor. James stood up and took Tessa, who was shaking with fury, in his arms.
“Shhh” He tried to calm her, “It’s OK, we’ll think of a way to come up with the money, don’t you worry.”
Tessa had now started to cry. She hugged her husband tightly and began sobbing in his shoulder.
“I..I…I don’t care about us. I mean, I wouldn’t have a care in the world if we were living on the streets, God forbid. But I care about our son, I wanted him to have this place as his, so, so, he would never be kicked out by his land lord, and, and, live happily ever after and, and, have lots of kids….” She started babbling after that.
“Shhh, come on sweety, its OK, it’s OK, calm yourself. It’s OK, we’ll find a way.”
Suddenly Tessa broke free from her husband’s hug and rushed out of the room. James became slightly worried for his wife. Although Tessa was always very emotional, this time it seemed that she had really taken this to her heart.
Sometime later, he heard footsteps thudding along the floorboards and Tessa appearing with the wooden box clutched in her hands.
“I found it. Here it is. We want twenty five and a half thousand dollars, then we’ll just wish for them, for Billy, we’ll wish for it see….” Tessa had this twinkle in her eyes as she looked at the wooden box. James felt really scared then, for some reason. He took Tessa’s hands in his, which were clenched on to the box. They were shaking.
“Come on, bring a paper and a pencil. Quick, we need that money.”
James didn’t know what to say. Seeing his wife in this state chilled his heart. He didn’t really believe in the box any more, but it seems Tessa did. She didn’t make it that obvious before, but it seemed she did believe in it. He thought it best to follow along. What harm could it be.
He brought a pen and scribbled the wish down, and showed it to his wife. Then he put the piece of paper in the box and put the box on the table. *This is very stupid, but at least Tes is feeling better.* He looked at Tes who was now curled up lying on the carpet with her head in his lap. He started to brush his hand through her hair and thought about how he was going to get the money.
*********
Part 6
It was two days later that Tessa had opened the box again, with sweaty fingers, and found it with a “granted” signed in the corner. She put the paper back in the box and waited for the miracle it happen. And it did, right that very hour. James brought in the mail and their was this letter addressed to them. Without even reading the front of the letter, Tessa just tore it opened and out came a check for exactly$25,500. Tessa couldn’t believe her eyes. She showed it to James, who felt the same way.
He then took the envelope and read the address on it. “Oily Petroleum Ltd.” He looked up from the letter. “That’s where Billy works.” He took a letter out of the envelope and started reading:
All the writing became blurry after that and James had to use every strength he had to keep himself steady. His voice started to shake with emotion, but he still continued to read the last paragraph.
James looked up to find Tessa gone. He went in his room to find Tessa watching the t.v. There, it seemed, they were showing a whole story about the explosion in the factory.
Tessa turned around with a smile on her face and tears streaming down her face. “Look, look, our boy is on T.v. He always wanted to be on the TV. I remember when he wad small and he said ‘mom, some day I’ll be famous on t.v..and..” he voice broke into a sob. James felt like tearing his heart out. But there was nothing he could do. His son was gone, his one and only son. Gone.
**********
Part 7
The funeral arrangement was simple. Everyone had come, paid their condolences and left. Now Tessa and James were alone in their room. Sitting on the bed. Holding each other, talking about the times when Billy took his first step, or when he said his first ‘Mama’ and when he was wearing a motor-board and black gown on his graduation.
“It’s all my fault.” Tessa said. “If I hadn’t wished it. It would have never happened.”
“Look it’s not your fault. It just a coincident.”
“I don’t think so. I made a mistake and now I’m going to correct it.” She got up and walked out of the room.
James quickly followed behind her. “Tes, no please.” He held on to her “Let him go, he’s dead. Let his go.”
Tessa turned around and looked back into his eyes with a haunting look in her own. “I WILL NOT LET IT GO! I KILLED HIM AND I WILL NOW BRING HIM BACK! I DON”T CARE WHAT HAPPENS! HE-WILL-COME-BACK!.” She shoved him away, grabbed the wooden box and locked herself in the nearest room.
James got up and banged at the door but to no avail. “TES! Its OK, Tes, don’t do anything. TES!”
After sometime the door opened and Tessa came out with the box clenched in her hands. James took it from her and tried to open it but it wouldn’t open. “What have you done Tes, what have you done!”
He tried again. And during this time Tes sat down on the floor, her eyes on the front door. James tried to open the box for the last time and suddenly it flew open like it was unlocked by a phantom, sending the piece of paper inside it flying out. James read the paper.
Then someone knocked at the front door and Tessa rushed to meet her son. She opened the door, and her son was there all right. She gasped. There stood her son, his clothes were sooty and burnt, and his whole body had burn marks on it. And his face was the most horrible thing about him that his parents couldn’t tear their eyes away from. His face seemed liked someone had melted it and then stuck the melted flesh back onto his skull. His hair was no more, except a black gel that was matted to his skull. And his eyes, oh his beautiful blue eyes were now gone and there one socket was empty and the other with no iris in it.
“Muh uhm! Dah, ahd. H-h-elp.” He moaned and stuck his hand in trying to grab them. Tessa froze but her husband acted quickly trying to close the door on him. Tessa unfroze on tried to help her husband. “No, Billy!” She continuously screamed.
James then rushed away from the door, took a paper and a pen he could find as quickly as possible and scribbled something quickly and shoved it into the box. “LET HIM GO!” He yelled at the box. “MAKE HIM GO AWAY AND REST IN PEACE!” He looked back to find Tessa slamming the door shut the hand that was sticking out from the door now vanished. Tessa clasped on the spot and James rushed to her help.
*************
Part 8: Epilogue
Next week
END
***************
The moral of this story, yup, you got it; be wary careful what you wish for….it may come true in the most horrible way!. Mwhahahahahahahahahah! :twisted:
Aren’t I a bright ray of sunshine.
Writers block solution 1: Story writing
ok, i know this is kinda a long story and would probably take an hour to read, but once you have read it, PLZZZZ comment! I would like to know what you thought of it
Writers block solution 1: Story writing
Hi, just wanted to say that I noticed your story, but haven't read it. I'm busy with a piece I'm working on, and I still have all the party to read. Mostly, just don't want you to feel ignored. Understand it will take me some time to get there. :) Cheers, Saadia.
Writers block solution 1: Story writing
I read the story. Enjoyed it and then was struck by the similar nature of that story to another famous tale:"The Monkey's Paw" by W.W. Jacobs (1906)
You said this wasn't an original story idea that it was based on an Urdu drama. I wonder if it was a folk tale they adaped that also inspired Mr. Jacobs or if Mr Jacobs' story inspired the Urdu drama....
Writers block solution 1: Story writing
Glad you enjoyed it. No the Urdu drama was more recent, ummm, about 4 or 5 years back i think. It was this short scary tales kinda thing. I haven't read the monkey's paw yet, i'll get to it.
Oh, and thanks for your kind words Sid! :D I myself have almost half the party post to read, but i will comment that i love the till now party post. It was really well done! It shows that everyone worked really hard on it, and the end result was really good! Well done everyone!
Writers block solution 1: Story writing
Saadia, I very much enjoyed the story.
But now to attemt to steal your lime light. When I got home from school today, I secided that I was going to write a story. Anyone who knows me really well, or at all will know that lot of my ideas are stanger than your average kipper. This is the intro to my story 'Vitroa'
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The skyline of Vitroa sparkled. It was a large city, and very advanced for the time. Advanced in some ways anyway. Outsiders could never quite understand how some things worked, and probably, neither did some of the residents. But outsiders were rare, and many tales of other life were dismissed as rumours. Besides, why leave when you had Vitroa?
The records of the beginnings of Vitroa have been lost long ago. Some said there never were, but Vitroa was always there, sparkling and beautiful. And of course, if it had never begun, then, it could never end. The shiny city living on forever. The city of eternal glass.
Around Vitroa, things varied. Status could be seen by how the glass was. People lower down the metaphorical food chain had houses of tainted and dusty glass. The sort you find on the beach, which has been tossed and turned until it barely remembers itself and how to be cunning and smooth. No longer so beautiful, but still profound in its own way.
Second up the chain, is Glass that was once beautiful, but has degraded over time, scratches and fingerprints, forever embedded into the surface. Instead of profundities or perfection, this glass tells stories. Every scratch tells something different, and this glass, in its own way, has a life of its own.
The housing of the upper crust is very fine. The sort of glass that implied money, wealth and class. Sparkly and new, very good condition. Something top be proud of. Your own reflection everywhere you go. If you had this kind of glass to live in, you were doing well.
But then, there is a little something more. The Tower. Vitro Tower, created from the purest glass in existence. To look at your reflection would be to look at your own self, a reflection of your body, mind and soul. What you looked like look like and will look like. What you thought, think and will think. How you felt, feel and will feel.
Glowing colours fill the solid glass, pulsing veins, thoughts and dreams, Faces and images lost in the sands of time, only to be melted and purified into the Vitro Tower. All impurities burned off at a temperature high enough to incinerate the skies. The Tower was a source of enlighten meant that could only be improved on by the presence of The Visitor. Or so they said.
When I sit here now, It is hard for you to imagine how things were. Outsiders always found it hard. But you have me. The tower is frozen over now. Along with the rest of Vitroa. Frost has overcome the glass. I can still see the skyline. From up here in the tower. At the very top. The only person with me, a frozen figure of a being long forgotten. I still remember.
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The first chapter is coming as soon as I have written it, but any comment and constructive critsism is good. Thank you.
Writers block solution 1: Story writing
ohhh wow! Hannah, i will really be waiting for the first chapter. This story sounds very interesting. I just can't wait!
Writers block solution 1: Story writing
hehe... Saadia, you make it sound like I have a plan.. this was the kind of story starter that sounds soo cool, and will probably never get any further... I shall try. But thankyou for the comment!