Okay, this was Saturday's Odd Spot that I think we could have some fun with.
What about we list some of our finest abuse on the comments under this post over the holidays and the winner will be provided with cake at our first meeting?
I'm going to draft a few now...
Friday, June 26, 2009
Friday, June 19, 2009
Check out my blog
Hi everyone,
check out my blog to see some of my 'works in progress'.
You'll notice there are four very different types of fiction here. Why? I have no idea! Please, if you have time, I would love any constructive criticism, ideas and, for one, a suggestion for the title.
Thanks for taking the time and I hope you enjoy.
Ell
check out my blog to see some of my 'works in progress'.
You'll notice there are four very different types of fiction here. Why? I have no idea! Please, if you have time, I would love any constructive criticism, ideas and, for one, a suggestion for the title.
Thanks for taking the time and I hope you enjoy.
Ell
Admella 150 Project
When: Friday 14 August and Saturday 15 August
Dusk (around 5:30pm)
What: A tour around the Portland North Cemetery which will last for 20-40 minutes. Along the tour the party will stop at certain places where they will witness: poetry readins, short performances, visual stimuli etc.
If you would like to be a part of this, the project is looking for short pieces of themed writing: poems, short fiction, monologues or dialogues.
Pieces should only go for 1-3 minutes maximum (very short) and should be creative and fictional.
Themes include: funerals, cemeteries, the Admella (of course), burial rites, death, ghosts, memories, past/present, fictional biographies... spooky stuff. For example you could write a monologue for a ghost who is dressed in a wedding dress and still pining for the man who was supposed to be meeting her at the altar, but who never made it back from the rescue attempt.
The project already has a few things booked including:
The Cockatoo Song Group
A Large Sail Boat 'thing' that will be carried through the cemetery
Choir
If you'd like to write something, but don't want to perform it, Ash has volunteered his Year 9 Drama class to do the readings.
For more information see Ash.
Dusk (around 5:30pm)
What: A tour around the Portland North Cemetery which will last for 20-40 minutes. Along the tour the party will stop at certain places where they will witness: poetry readins, short performances, visual stimuli etc.
If you would like to be a part of this, the project is looking for short pieces of themed writing: poems, short fiction, monologues or dialogues.
Pieces should only go for 1-3 minutes maximum (very short) and should be creative and fictional.
Themes include: funerals, cemeteries, the Admella (of course), burial rites, death, ghosts, memories, past/present, fictional biographies... spooky stuff. For example you could write a monologue for a ghost who is dressed in a wedding dress and still pining for the man who was supposed to be meeting her at the altar, but who never made it back from the rescue attempt.
The project already has a few things booked including:
The Cockatoo Song Group
A Large Sail Boat 'thing' that will be carried through the cemetery
Choir
If you'd like to write something, but don't want to perform it, Ash has volunteered his Year 9 Drama class to do the readings.
For more information see Ash.
Saturday, June 13, 2009
HORROR STORY
Written by Henrik Holmberg
A horror movie has certain rules. If you break too many the audience will be disappointed.
This is a very short, no fluff, blueprint of how to write a horror script.
1. The Hook. Start with a bang. Step right into a suspense scene. (”Scream” opens with a terrifying sequence with Drew Barrymore on the phone with a killer)
2. The Flaw. Introduce your hero. Give him a flaw. Before you can put your hero in jeopardy we must care for him. We must want our hero to succeed. So make him human. (In “Signs” Mel Gibson plays a priest who has lost his faith after his wife died)
3. The Fear. A variant of The Flaw. The hero has a fear. Maybe a fear of heights, or claustrophobia. (In “Jaws” Roy Scheider has a fear of water. At the end he has to conquer his fear by going out onto the ocean to kill the shark)
4. No Escape. Have your hero at an isolated location where he can’t escape the horror. (Like the hotel in “The Shining”)
5. Foreplay. Tease the audience. Make them jump at scenes that appear scary — but turn out to be completely normal. (Like the cat jumping out of the closet) Give them some more foreplay before bringing in the real monster.
6. Evil Attacks. A couple of times during the middle of the script show how evil the monster can be — as it attacks its victims.
7. Investigation. The hero investigates, and finds out the truth behind the horror.
8. Showdown. The final confrontation. The hero has to face both his fear and the monster. The hero uses his brain, rather than muscles, to outsmart the monster. (At the end of “The Village” the blind girl tricks the monster to fall into the hole in the ground)
9. Aftermath. Everything’s back to the way it was from the beginning — but the hero has changed for the better or for the worse. (At the end of “Signs” Mel Gibson puts on his clerical collar again — he got his faith back)
10. Evil Lurks. We see evidence that the monster may return somewhere..somehow..in the future..(Almost all “Friday The 13′th”-movies end with Jason showing signs of returning for another sequel)
Now you can start writing your horror screenplay. Good luck!
Find the original list here.
Written by Henrik Holmberg
A horror movie has certain rules. If you break too many the audience will be disappointed.
This is a very short, no fluff, blueprint of how to write a horror script.
1. The Hook. Start with a bang. Step right into a suspense scene. (”Scream” opens with a terrifying sequence with Drew Barrymore on the phone with a killer)
2. The Flaw. Introduce your hero. Give him a flaw. Before you can put your hero in jeopardy we must care for him. We must want our hero to succeed. So make him human. (In “Signs” Mel Gibson plays a priest who has lost his faith after his wife died)
3. The Fear. A variant of The Flaw. The hero has a fear. Maybe a fear of heights, or claustrophobia. (In “Jaws” Roy Scheider has a fear of water. At the end he has to conquer his fear by going out onto the ocean to kill the shark)
4. No Escape. Have your hero at an isolated location where he can’t escape the horror. (Like the hotel in “The Shining”)
5. Foreplay. Tease the audience. Make them jump at scenes that appear scary — but turn out to be completely normal. (Like the cat jumping out of the closet) Give them some more foreplay before bringing in the real monster.
6. Evil Attacks. A couple of times during the middle of the script show how evil the monster can be — as it attacks its victims.
7. Investigation. The hero investigates, and finds out the truth behind the horror.
8. Showdown. The final confrontation. The hero has to face both his fear and the monster. The hero uses his brain, rather than muscles, to outsmart the monster. (At the end of “The Village” the blind girl tricks the monster to fall into the hole in the ground)
9. Aftermath. Everything’s back to the way it was from the beginning — but the hero has changed for the better or for the worse. (At the end of “Signs” Mel Gibson puts on his clerical collar again — he got his faith back)
10. Evil Lurks. We see evidence that the monster may return somewhere..somehow..in the future..(Almost all “Friday The 13′th”-movies end with Jason showing signs of returning for another sequel)
Now you can start writing your horror screenplay. Good luck!
Find the original list here.
Short Story Competition - Science Fiction
http://shortstory.us.com/2009/06/free-writing-contest-for-science-fiction-writers-%e2%80%93-theme-what-if/
This closes August 31st. Have a look.
This closes August 31st. Have a look.
Some story definitions
■ Poetry - Please between 3 and 4 poems
■ Micro Fiction - Less than 500 words
■ Flash Fiction - Less than 1000 words
■ Short Stories - Less than 5000 words
This is according to Short Story Library
■ Micro Fiction - Less than 500 words
■ Flash Fiction - Less than 1000 words
■ Short Stories - Less than 5000 words
This is according to Short Story Library
Monday, June 8, 2009
My somewhat dodgy attempt at a horror story - I think it starts off ok, but the ending is weak. Any ideas?
The pain started in her lower left gum, right up the back where her wisdom tooth had never emerged. She used to joke about it sometimes, this lack of wisdom. No one laughed, it wasn’t really that kind of joke. The pain gave her hope for a while – perhaps that longed-for wisdom was finally arriving. But it faded after a few days.
The pain next emerged in the hinge of her jaw. It ached and seemed stiff, and sometimes as she chewed there was a clicking sound, as if her jaw was popping in and out of its socket. While out to dinner some friends commented on it. Did she always make that sound as she chewed?
Random pains started emerging all around her body. One day a wrist, another an ankle. Once there was a very specific sensation in the middle of her right bicep – it felt as if someone were giving her a slow injection into the muscle, pushing the needle in with exquisite control, millimeter by millimeter. She saw the doctor, who made a crack about belated growing pains and suggested she take anti-inflammitories. They didn’t help, and gave her stomach-ache into the bargain. By the end of summer she’d just got used to it. The pains, though annoying, were never very bad. She learned to ignore them and get on with her life.
That autumn she got a promotion. It meant more money and more responsibility. She now had the opportunity to put some of her ideas into practice. They met with some success and her reputation within the company grew. But she had less time to see Eric, her partner, less time with friends. And certainly no time to worry about the odd aches and pains.
A rash appeared on her thighs. It spread to her buttocks. Small, slightly raised points of redness marred her skin. It was embarrassing. Luckily she was working so late that Eric was generally asleep by the time she got home. She wouldn’t want him seeing her like this. She wouldn’t want to kiss him, either – her mouth was full of ulcers.
He was away the night she lay awake picking at one. It was large, and painful, and sat right inside the crease between the inside of her cheek and the roots of her teeth. Picking at it with her tongue hurt, and was probably making it worse. But there was something there, some protuberance that was annoying her. So she picked – she couldn’t help herself.
The thing, the annoyance, was numb. It was probably some tissue that had been killed off by the germs causing the ulcers. She got it between her teeth and bit down. But the texture was wrong, totally unlike dead mouth tissue. It was tough and fibrous, almost woody. She couldn’t bite all the way through. She tried with her fingers, but she couldn’t grasp it. It was too short, too wet. The tweezers in the bathroom were a better bet. With them she could grasp it, and did. She pulled. By now she was used to pain, and anyway, this was like picking a scab or squeezing a pimple – painful, but also deeply satisfying. Anyway, the scraping, sliding feeling of it wasn’t all that different from taking out her contact lenses.
It wouldn’t come all the way. Once she had a length of it she snipped it off with a pair of scissors. She stared at the pale, stiff thing, like a toughened piece of string. A word formed in her mind, only to be rejected. There was no way such a thing could be in her gum. She ignored the thought an went back to bed.
The next morning there was another ulcer on her tongue. Something was sticking out of this, too. She took out her tweezers and pulled. This was trickier, it seemed to catch inside and didn’t want to come. There was some blood. But she finally got it out – a network of fine fibres, smeared with red. There was something inside her, some illness or infection violating her internal spaces. She turned the shower to the hottest she could bear, ready to scrub hard, and undressed.
Her pyjamas caught slightly on the rash on her thighs as she pulled them off. The rash that had been red was now tinged with green. A field of small green bumps and spines peered from the skin on her thighs. She rubbed her hands over them and was met with a sensation like running her hands over not-too-recently shaved legs. She pulled at one of the larger objects. Green blades, enclosed within one another topped a small, delicate network of pale, blood smeared fibres . She could no longer deny what it was. Blood beaded at the hole in her leg, and inched its way downwards. She took out her tweezers again and sat on the bathroom floor, the shower forgotten. Blood pooled beneath her as she plucked the grass, blade by blade, out of her legs.
The pain next emerged in the hinge of her jaw. It ached and seemed stiff, and sometimes as she chewed there was a clicking sound, as if her jaw was popping in and out of its socket. While out to dinner some friends commented on it. Did she always make that sound as she chewed?
Random pains started emerging all around her body. One day a wrist, another an ankle. Once there was a very specific sensation in the middle of her right bicep – it felt as if someone were giving her a slow injection into the muscle, pushing the needle in with exquisite control, millimeter by millimeter. She saw the doctor, who made a crack about belated growing pains and suggested she take anti-inflammitories. They didn’t help, and gave her stomach-ache into the bargain. By the end of summer she’d just got used to it. The pains, though annoying, were never very bad. She learned to ignore them and get on with her life.
That autumn she got a promotion. It meant more money and more responsibility. She now had the opportunity to put some of her ideas into practice. They met with some success and her reputation within the company grew. But she had less time to see Eric, her partner, less time with friends. And certainly no time to worry about the odd aches and pains.
A rash appeared on her thighs. It spread to her buttocks. Small, slightly raised points of redness marred her skin. It was embarrassing. Luckily she was working so late that Eric was generally asleep by the time she got home. She wouldn’t want him seeing her like this. She wouldn’t want to kiss him, either – her mouth was full of ulcers.
He was away the night she lay awake picking at one. It was large, and painful, and sat right inside the crease between the inside of her cheek and the roots of her teeth. Picking at it with her tongue hurt, and was probably making it worse. But there was something there, some protuberance that was annoying her. So she picked – she couldn’t help herself.
The thing, the annoyance, was numb. It was probably some tissue that had been killed off by the germs causing the ulcers. She got it between her teeth and bit down. But the texture was wrong, totally unlike dead mouth tissue. It was tough and fibrous, almost woody. She couldn’t bite all the way through. She tried with her fingers, but she couldn’t grasp it. It was too short, too wet. The tweezers in the bathroom were a better bet. With them she could grasp it, and did. She pulled. By now she was used to pain, and anyway, this was like picking a scab or squeezing a pimple – painful, but also deeply satisfying. Anyway, the scraping, sliding feeling of it wasn’t all that different from taking out her contact lenses.
It wouldn’t come all the way. Once she had a length of it she snipped it off with a pair of scissors. She stared at the pale, stiff thing, like a toughened piece of string. A word formed in her mind, only to be rejected. There was no way such a thing could be in her gum. She ignored the thought an went back to bed.
The next morning there was another ulcer on her tongue. Something was sticking out of this, too. She took out her tweezers and pulled. This was trickier, it seemed to catch inside and didn’t want to come. There was some blood. But she finally got it out – a network of fine fibres, smeared with red. There was something inside her, some illness or infection violating her internal spaces. She turned the shower to the hottest she could bear, ready to scrub hard, and undressed.
Her pyjamas caught slightly on the rash on her thighs as she pulled them off. The rash that had been red was now tinged with green. A field of small green bumps and spines peered from the skin on her thighs. She rubbed her hands over them and was met with a sensation like running her hands over not-too-recently shaved legs. She pulled at one of the larger objects. Green blades, enclosed within one another topped a small, delicate network of pale, blood smeared fibres . She could no longer deny what it was. Blood beaded at the hole in her leg, and inched its way downwards. She took out her tweezers again and sat on the bathroom floor, the shower forgotten. Blood pooled beneath her as she plucked the grass, blade by blade, out of her legs.
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