Post by Angie on Dec 17, 2006 13:32:41 GMT -5
Some of you may know that I completely gave up on writing. Still don't expect me to write anything other than this, but I missed writing, so yesterday I sat myself down and started this story again from scratch. The old one was just getting too hard to write because my ideas kept changing, and I got stuck.
Here is the original story; keep in mind that I am changing a lot of things about it: ywg2.proboards80.com/index.cgi?board=fiction&action=display&thread=1152815740
I have each chapter planned out, so I'm just going to (hopefully) write based off of that and see how things go. I hope I don't take this story too fast or anything because this is one that needs to go slow. Unfortunately, I only have fifteen chapters planned, so it will probably rush.
I would like reviews based off of this thread: ywg2.proboards80.com/index.cgi?board=announcements&action=display&thread=1155856704
I am requesting that they tell anything that could be improved or elaborated, anything I should outright change, and anything that I shouldn't change.
Just a warning: knowing both myself and this plotline, this will probably be melodramatic and sweet. If you can't handle that, go watch Spongebob or something.
Originally I wrote a three-paragraph introduction in first person from the narrator, but I realized that it didn't fit with a third-person story, and I didn't have any decent place to show who the narrator was, so I took it out. Feel free to tell me if you can think of another type of introduction/prologue that would suit this.
Chapter I ~
The Childers home was as it always was when Zoey was alone; she sat in her corner of the living room by the curtained open window as she wrote in one of her many diaries. Those notebooks were her only outlet of expression, but they might as well have not existed, for no one knew anything of her words. Silenced thoughts were nothing unusual of Zoey, of course, but she dared not let anyone know she wrote, or someone might try to invade her mind. That was the last thing she could have let happen back then.
There was a knock at the door.
“Mrs. Childers? Zoey?” came a muffled yell from the neighbor boy Richard.
Zoey jumped up, tapped on the windowsill to show him that she was coming, and ran into the bathroom and closed the door behind herself out of habit. She climbed onto the sink and pulled the mirror off the wall to reveal a miniature makeshift door with a lock on it. She hurriedly grabbed at the chain around her neck and pulled a key out from under her shirt so she could unlock it.
She pulled herself through the opening and landed on a dresser. In her rush she fell off before she could steady herself and slammed her foot against the hard metal bedpost. The pain was intense, but she didn’t cry out. She had somehow trained herself that well.
Trying to shake off the pain, she hopped to the other side of the room and tossed her diary on her bedside table. She glanced through the crack in the curtain into the yard. Richard was fixing part of the fence, as he had become a sort of handyman for Zoey and her mother over the years.
She smiled, grabbed a deck of cards from the windowsill, and limped back to the dresser. A moment later she was sitting on the porch playing solitaire with herself as her neighbor hammered away at the fence.
When he was done, she went inside to get him something to drink, and when she came back out, he was dealing out a card game. She gave him an apprehensive look.
“I’m going to teach you a card game. It’s called Egyptian Ratscrew.”
He explained the rules to her, and then they began the fast-paced game. After a couple of rounds, he placed a king on top of a king, and she slapped it before he could blink, which gave her the pile of cards, a goal of the game. She grinned more broadly than she had in years. She’d almost forgotten what fun games could be.
Richard grinned back at her. That was what he had wanted all along - to see the old Zoey again. It had been far too long since she had shown many signs of happiness.
They continued playing until it was almost dusk. He grabbed his school bag from beside the walk and followed her inside for the payment for his job. She eyed his backpack enviously; she certainly couldn’t handle school, but there were some things about it that she missed. Zoey pondered for a moment about what high school was like for other teenagers. Richard seemed as though he couldn’t wait for it to be over, so she was usually rather glad she was home-schooled. Usually.
Just then Zoey’s mother came home from work.
“Hey, you two. Do you want to stay for supper, Richard? We’ve got some good leftover lasagna Zoey baked up last night.”
“Sure, I’ll eat anything she cooks,” he replied with a sly grin. He knew she hated it when people complimented her without giving her any way to be humble.
Richard set his book bag by the window and went into the kitchen to help her mom set the table, toss a salad, and heat up the lasagna. Zoey attempted to help, as the was the chef of the household, but she was of no use, so she snuck into her room and grabbed her diary. She decided to go back into the living room to write so they could easily call her when it was time to eat. Sitting next to the window as she always did, she began to scribble down some details of the day for her to elaborate and analyze later on when she had more time. This, of course, did not satisfy her need to write, so she subconsciously started to assess everything anyway.
If anyone on Earth ever needed a diary, it was Zoey. She wrote in it every private moment she got. She had so many musings of man kind, so many analyzations of literature and events, so many theories, so many emotions. She never ran out of things to put on paper. The irony of it all was that she had chosen to be oblivious to the most important things she should have examined. Luckily, that would soon change.
Her mother’s voice came through the doorway, “Zoey, are you coming? Everything’s ready.”
The sudden noise startled her, and she knocked over the glass of water that was sitting on the table beside her. Her diary fell off her lap as she jumped up to get something with which she could dry the table and floor.
Her mom walked in and tisked, “Zoey!”
The only reply was a quick look of annoyance as the girl came in with towels.
Even after the commotion, dinner was quite uneventful, without even much small talk, as no one felt like tearing away from the lasagna long enough to say anything for the mere sake of conversation.
“Well, I’d better get on home - it’s a school night, and my mom will be worried about me,” said Richard after they were done eating.
He went into the living room and grabbed his backpack, not noticing Zoey’s notebook sticking out of it.
After he left, Zoey went to her room to get ready for bed, still having forgotten all about the fact that her diary wasn’t safe and sound in the privacy of her secluded room.
Well, there you go. Meh.
The next chapter will be almost, but not quite, identical to the first dream scene (chapter three, I believe) from the original. Hopefully I can add some length to it after I get it converted to third person and make some minor alterations. Please don't hesitate to go read that and help me figure out some things to add to it.
Here is the original story; keep in mind that I am changing a lot of things about it: ywg2.proboards80.com/index.cgi?board=fiction&action=display&thread=1152815740
I have each chapter planned out, so I'm just going to (hopefully) write based off of that and see how things go. I hope I don't take this story too fast or anything because this is one that needs to go slow. Unfortunately, I only have fifteen chapters planned, so it will probably rush.
I would like reviews based off of this thread: ywg2.proboards80.com/index.cgi?board=announcements&action=display&thread=1155856704
I am requesting that they tell anything that could be improved or elaborated, anything I should outright change, and anything that I shouldn't change.
Just a warning: knowing both myself and this plotline, this will probably be melodramatic and sweet. If you can't handle that, go watch Spongebob or something.
Originally I wrote a three-paragraph introduction in first person from the narrator, but I realized that it didn't fit with a third-person story, and I didn't have any decent place to show who the narrator was, so I took it out. Feel free to tell me if you can think of another type of introduction/prologue that would suit this.
Chapter I ~
The Childers home was as it always was when Zoey was alone; she sat in her corner of the living room by the curtained open window as she wrote in one of her many diaries. Those notebooks were her only outlet of expression, but they might as well have not existed, for no one knew anything of her words. Silenced thoughts were nothing unusual of Zoey, of course, but she dared not let anyone know she wrote, or someone might try to invade her mind. That was the last thing she could have let happen back then.
There was a knock at the door.
“Mrs. Childers? Zoey?” came a muffled yell from the neighbor boy Richard.
Zoey jumped up, tapped on the windowsill to show him that she was coming, and ran into the bathroom and closed the door behind herself out of habit. She climbed onto the sink and pulled the mirror off the wall to reveal a miniature makeshift door with a lock on it. She hurriedly grabbed at the chain around her neck and pulled a key out from under her shirt so she could unlock it.
She pulled herself through the opening and landed on a dresser. In her rush she fell off before she could steady herself and slammed her foot against the hard metal bedpost. The pain was intense, but she didn’t cry out. She had somehow trained herself that well.
Trying to shake off the pain, she hopped to the other side of the room and tossed her diary on her bedside table. She glanced through the crack in the curtain into the yard. Richard was fixing part of the fence, as he had become a sort of handyman for Zoey and her mother over the years.
She smiled, grabbed a deck of cards from the windowsill, and limped back to the dresser. A moment later she was sitting on the porch playing solitaire with herself as her neighbor hammered away at the fence.
When he was done, she went inside to get him something to drink, and when she came back out, he was dealing out a card game. She gave him an apprehensive look.
“I’m going to teach you a card game. It’s called Egyptian Ratscrew.”
He explained the rules to her, and then they began the fast-paced game. After a couple of rounds, he placed a king on top of a king, and she slapped it before he could blink, which gave her the pile of cards, a goal of the game. She grinned more broadly than she had in years. She’d almost forgotten what fun games could be.
Richard grinned back at her. That was what he had wanted all along - to see the old Zoey again. It had been far too long since she had shown many signs of happiness.
They continued playing until it was almost dusk. He grabbed his school bag from beside the walk and followed her inside for the payment for his job. She eyed his backpack enviously; she certainly couldn’t handle school, but there were some things about it that she missed. Zoey pondered for a moment about what high school was like for other teenagers. Richard seemed as though he couldn’t wait for it to be over, so she was usually rather glad she was home-schooled. Usually.
Just then Zoey’s mother came home from work.
“Hey, you two. Do you want to stay for supper, Richard? We’ve got some good leftover lasagna Zoey baked up last night.”
“Sure, I’ll eat anything she cooks,” he replied with a sly grin. He knew she hated it when people complimented her without giving her any way to be humble.
Richard set his book bag by the window and went into the kitchen to help her mom set the table, toss a salad, and heat up the lasagna. Zoey attempted to help, as the was the chef of the household, but she was of no use, so she snuck into her room and grabbed her diary. She decided to go back into the living room to write so they could easily call her when it was time to eat. Sitting next to the window as she always did, she began to scribble down some details of the day for her to elaborate and analyze later on when she had more time. This, of course, did not satisfy her need to write, so she subconsciously started to assess everything anyway.
If anyone on Earth ever needed a diary, it was Zoey. She wrote in it every private moment she got. She had so many musings of man kind, so many analyzations of literature and events, so many theories, so many emotions. She never ran out of things to put on paper. The irony of it all was that she had chosen to be oblivious to the most important things she should have examined. Luckily, that would soon change.
Her mother’s voice came through the doorway, “Zoey, are you coming? Everything’s ready.”
The sudden noise startled her, and she knocked over the glass of water that was sitting on the table beside her. Her diary fell off her lap as she jumped up to get something with which she could dry the table and floor.
Her mom walked in and tisked, “Zoey!”
The only reply was a quick look of annoyance as the girl came in with towels.
Even after the commotion, dinner was quite uneventful, without even much small talk, as no one felt like tearing away from the lasagna long enough to say anything for the mere sake of conversation.
“Well, I’d better get on home - it’s a school night, and my mom will be worried about me,” said Richard after they were done eating.
He went into the living room and grabbed his backpack, not noticing Zoey’s notebook sticking out of it.
After he left, Zoey went to her room to get ready for bed, still having forgotten all about the fact that her diary wasn’t safe and sound in the privacy of her secluded room.
Well, there you go. Meh.
The next chapter will be almost, but not quite, identical to the first dream scene (chapter three, I believe) from the original. Hopefully I can add some length to it after I get it converted to third person and make some minor alterations. Please don't hesitate to go read that and help me figure out some things to add to it.
