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Post by Reiqua on Jan 2, 2017 2:11:57 GMT -5
It's a new year! Or it was yesterday at any rate. As a result, I will try and write 100-500 words of narrative each day, with aview to getting better at writing! (Ahaha, we'll see how long this lasts, won't we)To keep up my motivation and keep me accountable, I'll post what I write here. Feel free to read and/or comment if you'd like to! Would also appreciate any concrit. The whole point of this is to improve, so if you see something I can work on improving, let me know! ADDIT: I wanted a place to keep track of how I go each week so I shall add it in here. My goal is to achieve five days writing on 50% of weeks, and six days' writing on the other 50% of weeks, with any number of NT reviews counting as a single "day's writing" Week 1 (commencing 2nd Jan) - Pass! - Five days' writing and one NT review Week 2 (commencing 9th Jan) - Pass! - Six days' writing and two NT reviews Week 3 (commencing 16th Jan) - Fail - Only three days' writing Week 4 (commencing 23rd Jan) - Pass! - Five days' writing only Week 5 (commencing 31st Jan) - Fail - I was always going to be too busy to make it this week
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Post by Reiqua on Jan 2, 2017 2:28:25 GMT -5
2nd January (because I missed the 1st of January. Great start, huh?)
Content: Hero City inspired in that it uses two kids from my class but is set ~7 years further into the future Genre: Short Story - Introduction Starring: Sarah and Skylah in ChumrollSkylah sighed softly and shifted her posture slightly on the bench so she was looking out over the playground.
“I just can’t get over the look on Ichy’s face when he fell in the pool!” exclaimed Rachel beside her.
“He is such the cutest dog!” simpered Sarah, “Millie is sooo lucky!”
Skylah slumped a little in her seat. She got it. The pool party had been awesome. Millie’s mum made the best Pavlova in the country. Millie’s dog was adorable. Could they maybe talk about something else now? Surely the topic had finally been done to death.
But no.
“Sarah, you have to have a pool party this weekend!” decreed Rachel, “you’ve been talking about it for months,” she proclaimed dramatically.
Sarah’s eyes lit up enthusiastically, “I’ll check with my mum,” she said.
“And Skylah, you should totally come this time,” said Jessalie kindly.
Skylah blushed, “Yeah I’ll come,” she said meekly, “I mean, if I’m invited, of course,” she added with a glance at Sarah.
“Of course you’re invited,” gushed Sarah genuinely.
“Thanks Sarah,” smiled Skylah, “let me know the details.”
“Oh yeah, I’ll put it all on Chumroll anyway,” Sarah said.
Skylah paused a moment. “Do you have my mum’s number?” she asked cautiously
“Oh yeah, I forgot! You’re not on Chumroll, are you?” said Sarah.
Skylah merely shook her head. She was constantly amazed at how easy other people seemed to find it to forget such things. She could barely live a moment without being reminded of it.
The bell rang for class and there was a sudden scramble of movement as everyone grabbed their bags and started heading in the direction of their respective classes.
“Tell us what we should bring Sarah,” Rachel was saying over the noise.
“Yeah, we can organise it all on Chumroll,” said Sarah cheerily.
As they walked off into D-block for last period, Skylah fell into step beside Sarah.
“Do you have my mum’s number?” she asked, “Cos I can give it to you again if that’s easier?”
“Oh, that’s all right,” said Sarah breezily, “I know I put it somewhere in my diary, it’ll be somewhere.”
“Okay,” gulped Skylah through the tears welling up in her eyes. Her mum’s number had been in Sarah’s diary prior to Millie’s party as well. And Charlotte’s movie night and Rachel’s shopping expedition.
But Sarah was completely oblivious. She’d caught sight of Millie up ahead, and with a brief word of farewell to Skylah, she ran off to join her, leaving Skylah standing all alone in the midst of the press of a hundred schoolgirls.
Skylah refused to blink lest it provoke the tears in her eyes to fall.
She’d tried. She tried so hard. And it wasn’t going to make the slightest difference. Take that, Mum, she thought, her feeling of hurt turning quickly into frustrated anger. With a scowl, she kicked at the ground aimlessly and then continued her walk to class.
Writing focus 'Show don't tell' I really found this hard to do in setting up a story with no context using characters with no context, but I think I did better than I would have previously. One day this will be second nature to me, I hope!
A 'decision story' I'm not good at these, but decided to embark on a short story in which Skylah will face a decision, rather than some more tangible form of conflict. To make this a story, I need to set up the two potential sides convincingly, so this introduction focuses on her motive for wanting to get Chumroll, and the next installment (if I ever write it) will probably have more of the opposite side, her wanting to respect her mum's wishes.
Feedback Whatever's on your mind! Also would love to know if I did too much of the "don't tell" without enough "show" making it hard to follow what's happening... did I? 3rd January
Content: Hero City inspiredGenre: Short Story
Starring: Sarah and Skylah in Chumroll
Skylah sat cross-legged in a corner of the kitchen, watching her mum stack the dishwasher. Outwardly, it appeared she was just sitting there silently for no particular reason. Internally, she was at war with herself.
“Mum, I really wanna get Chumroll,” she said at length, and then mentally kicked herself for starting this off so inelegantly. She should’ve been more subtle – less confrontational.
“Skylah we’ve been through this before. You know I don’t approve of Chumroll,” she said. She stopped clinking dishes about and turned to face her daughter.
“But mum, it’s not just that I want it because everyone else has it!” there was aa pleading note in her voice, begging her mother to understand “it’s... people leave me out all the time,” she struggled to hold back tears, “I never get invited to anything... everyone just forgets I exist... because I’m not on Chumroll...”
There was no point in trying to ignore the tears now. She withdrew a tissue from the packet in her pocket.
“Skylah, are you trying to tell me that you can’t go to parties unless you have Chumroll?” asked her mother with the patient air of one pointing out something very self-evident to a two year old.
“I don’t get invited without Chumroll,” said Skylah far more vehemently than she’d meant to.
“But Sarah has my number, doesn’t she?”
Stormy tears welled up in Skylah’s eyes and found she wasn’t equal to answering. Her mum turned around to resume stacking the dishwasher.
If only her mum could understand. Just because she’d been invited to things without Chumroll when she was younger... She just didn’t get it! People didn’t do things that way anymore! But how could she ever make her mum understand? Or did she need to?
“Mum,” began Skylah cautiously and calmly.
Her mother turned around to face her again.
“I know you don’t approve of Chumroll...” she tried uncertainly “... but how would you feel if... I made an account anyway...” she trailed off unable to finish the thought.
Her mother’s expression hardened, but her tone was still calm. “Skylah, you know I’ve forbidden you to get Chumroll before, and I haven’t changed my mind. I’d like to think you respect me enough to respect that ruling,” she said with a slight frown.
Skylah pulled her knees up to her chest and buried her face in them so her mother couldn’t see her crying.
After a long moment, her mother turned back to stacking the dishwasher. She was open to talk, but there was also work to be done and she wasn’t going to wait around indefinitely for her daughter to pull herself together. She rolled her eyes at the ceiling.
Several minutes later, Skylah shuffled silently out of the kitchen. She shut the door as slowly and gently as possible. She didn’t want to be seen to slam it.
Writing focus Trying to set up Skylah's relationship with her mother and that sense of respect for her mother. Don't think I did it so very well, though.
Feedback Did it work? Do you feel like you understand what Skylah thinks of her mother and what her mother thinks of her daughter? Do you feel like it makes sense to you that Skylah doesn't want to be the rebellious teenager? Is there anything else you think would be helpful for me to improve on? 4th January
Content: Neopets (because why not at least write for the NT and get some trophies if I'm doing this) Genre: Short Story - Setup (metastory) Starring: Cap'n Threelegs in I'll not be telling how I lost my leg...“Please Gramps?” young Joe looked up into the scarred, weather-worn face of his grandfather with well practised Puppyblew eyes.
“Lookit th’ lad, will ye?” Cap’n Threelegs told his wife jovially, indicating the wide-eyed baby Lenny on his knee, “‘e knows ‘ow t’ git what ‘e wants a’right!”
“Well you’d better tell him his story then, dear,” sighed his wife with the resigned air of one who is about to hear a story that they would rather not hear again. She picked up the partially carved block of wood and knife beside her and resumed whittling at it with a slight frown on her face.
“Well then m’lad,” the old Eyrie said, “best batten down the hatches, ye’r in fer a howler of a tale!” Writing Focus It's so short there's not much to say, but I guess trying to balance having enough description (primarily of characters) without slowing the pace too much? Which I suspect I failed miserably at.
Feedback Whatever's on your mind! 7th January Content: AutobiogaphicalGenre: Very Short Story - Part 1 (of probably 2) Starring: Reiqua in Why didn't you write anything the past two days?(And with an almost-cameo by GLQ) Reiqua rested a hand on her chin as her eyes flicked quickly back and forth over GLQ's post. An art challenge to draw one thing a day? It sounded like a great idea!
She put her fingers to her keyboard and began to type:
“And why not?” chirped Jimmy the cricket from her right shoulder as he saw it. “You could make great progress on your art with a year's practice. Why you might even be able to share some things on the forum!”
“Oh, c'mon Jimmy,” chirped Minnie cricket from Reiqua's left shoulder in response, “Rei doesn't have time for that! It'd be impossible.”
“Anything is possible if you prioritise it sufficiently” Jimmy chirped back at her petulantly.
“Is not!” responded Minnie stubbornly.
Reiqua put her head in her hands. The crickets' incessant chirping back and forth was really trying her patience. Just to shut them up for the moment she clicked “Create Post”.
“But it's not too late to edit your post” begged Jimmy desperately.
“Shut up Jimmy” retorted Minnie.
***
Reiqua continued chatting and even pulled up Neopets to do her dailies, but all the while Jimmy kept up a constant barrage of chatter in her ear.
“Why not? It would only require a few moments each day. Are you telling me you have no access to paper and pencils at home? Of course you want to work on this and better yourself! Since when would you be content with not moving forward or making improvements in your life? I know you can do better, Reiqua.”
With a sigh, Reiqua pulled up the conversation once more and started typing again.
“There,” whirred Jimmy happily, “that wasn't too hard, was it?” At this point, the battle was half won. Once she'd conceded that he knew she would probably give in eventually.
“Really Rei?” asked Minnie in exasperation, “drawing? Can't you at least pick something less impossible?”
“Well it's something,” conceded Minnie huffily.
Jimmy said nothing, but turned away scowling and sat down far more heavily than was necessary on her right shoulder.
“But,” added Minnie, pressing her advantage, “is it really a good idea to start it like this? It's not even new year anymore!”
Reiqua sighed and added a bit more onto her post.
Minnie chirruped triumphantly but her victory was short-lived. Just a few short minutes later, Jimmy was the one crowing happily as Reiqua pulled up a word document and started typing the first instalment in her new year's resolution. Writing Focus This is a bit more on the creative side than I'd usually do, since my writing is normally characterised by a lot of... real-lifeness? but I wanted to try this, so I did xP
I tried to give each of the crickets their own personality traits, representing the harsh taskmaster and the more laissez-faire components that make up one's conscience, but they both feel rather stiff and wooden to me though I can't quite tell why!
Reiqua herself is a rather underwhelming character, which I'm not used to doing, but I kinda wanted to do it that way and portray her as being a little bit at the mercy of her dual consciences...
Feedback If you can see anything and/or have any clues as to why I felt the crickets' personalities didn't work too well, please let me know! I'm not used to writing more fantasy-esque elements like this, but I guess it'd be useful to practise a little. Anything you liked about this? Or any other comments? Whatever's on your mind! 8th January Content: AutobiogaphicalGenre: Very Short Story - Part 2 of 2 (continued from 7th Jan) Starring: Reiqua in Why didn't you write anything the past two days?“Really?”chirped Jimmy, “Come now Reiqua, what’s your excuse this time?”
“It’s not an excuse!” Reiqua protested indignantly, “it’s a reason.”
Jimmy raised an eyebrow and tapped a foot on her shoulder impatiently as though to say, “I’m waiting!”
But it was not Reiqua who answered.
“Jimmy, can you just cool it a moment?” asked Minnie from Reiqua’s other shoulder, “I dunno if you’ve noticed, but her computer is dead at the moment! D-E-D. Dead. There’s no way she could write anything tonight!”
“Right, because every computer in the house is also dead, and her phone is out of battery, and she’s lost the charger, and there is no paper in the house because the dog-that-Reiqua-doesn’t-own ate it all!” Jimmy rolled his eyes in exasperation.
“I’m sorry Jimmy,” said Reiqua stifling a yawn, “but I’m just too tired tonight.”
“Yeah, because in case you didn’t notice, Jimmy,” Minnie said cuttingly, “she was actually driving for nine hours today as well as getting badly sunburnt and stung by a jellyfish! Did it cross your mind she might just wanna sleep?”
Jimmy’s mumbled response was mostly inaudible, but Reiqua thought she caught the words ‘and whose fault might that be’ in there somewhere. Still, she was too tired to care. She yawned again, not bothering to stifle it this time and told Jimmy, “sorry little fella, but I’m just going to head to bed...”
“What, without showering?” yelped Jimmy indignantly.
“I showered after I got out of the sea earlier today,” mumbled Reiqua blearily.
Jimmy knew it was a loosing battle, but it didn’t stop him from keeping up a constant tirade in her ear, berating her for her lack of showering.
“Quit it, Jimmy, she’s too tired!” cut in Minnie, and the two crickets recommenced their incessant bickering.
Reiqua reached for her Bible and opened it up to where her bookmark was. She successfully made it through a chapter without falling asleep, then turned out the light, lay back in bed, and clamped her pillow tightly over her ears so she wouldn’t have to hear the crickets’ bickering anymore.
Eventually they took a hint and let the topic rest for a while. Perhaps this was just because Jimmy could see it was a lost cause.
Still, the moment Reiqua let go of the pillow, Jimmy seized the chance to hop up onto the pillow beside her head and start berating her for not writing.
“That’s two days in a row you’ve missed. Two days! And you missed the first of January too, you’ve missed as many days as you’ve actually done! People are going to think you’re not actually serious about this commitment...”
And it was to the tune of this soothing song that Reiqua fell asleep. Writing Focus This is set on the evening of the 6th of January, but I drove another eight hours today (yeah, you'd be forgiven for getting the impression that I like driving long distances), and as I was driving today I was thinking a bit more about what made the crickets' personalities feel so wooden.
I wonder if it might be because of the heavy reliance on dialogue. Most authors tend to feel that a 'dialogue dump' is bad, because it's boring to read, however I've found I seem to be able to write life-like, non boring dialogue reasonably well(?) so that's not a problem I've really encountered before. I think possibly what makes my dialogue work is the way my characters are so true to life. Which obviously creates a problem in this context because a pair of talking cricket consciences sitting on your shoulder are obviously not true to life.
The solution, I decided, was to make it either less dependent on dialogue, or make the crickets' way of relating more 'true to life'. My first thought was "well let's cut the dialogue, because making consciences into realistic people isn't going to work too well!" But then I realised that the whole premise of this concept is that it is a dialogue. Between the two crickets, and between them and Reiqua. If you take away the dialogue, you have nothing left!
So I did my best to make the dialogue more life-like and less dry, and I think I made some progress towards that, and progress is all I can ask for really, even if there's plenty yet to do!
Feedback Any other thoughts on what made the crickets' personalities tricky? Or do you think it worked better this time? Basically whatever's on your mind!
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Post by Reiqua on Jan 9, 2017 7:19:49 GMT -5
New week, new post! I did manage to write five days last week, which is not too bad. I'm happy with that, but hoping for six days a week generally speaking. 9th January Content: Neopets - Royalty and Leaders Genre: Short Story - Setup (Macrostory) Starring: The Zafara Princess, also known as the Queen of Diamonds “CHEAT!” yelled Miku with enthusiasm.
Grandpa just shook his head with a knowing smile and flipped over the top three cards.
“Three queens, m’boy,” he smiled, “just like I said.”
Beside me Miku glowered and grudgingly moved to add the rather large stack to his hand, mumbling all the while about how it didn’t add up since two queens had already been played this round.
Before Miku could take the cards, though, grandpa intercepted him, his paw obscuring the stack. He picked up the top card of the stack, the queen of diamonds, and looked at it thoughtfully.
“Did I ever tell you the story of the Zafara Princess?” he asked.
Miku’s shining face was answer enough. He didn’t happen to have heard that story before, but he wouldn’t have minded even if he had. A story from grandpa was not to be turned down lightly!
Writing Focus: Why yes, I do tend to jump around a bit rather than work on one project till it's done, thank you for noticing xD (though please note that I did finish that very short, two-part story about my consciences and this writing task! Jimmy I hope you're happy)
I dunno exactly what I'm gonna be focusing on in this, but I'm kinda using first person, which should be interesting. I don't normally do that, preferring limited third. I think if I go through with using first person, the narrator will be a very much non-character, with Miku and grandpa being the characters. That said, I might just scrap it and do something else instead...
Also this'll make two NT stories I'm working on where I'm writing the narrator (so to speak). Should be interesting. I think grandpa won't talk quite so much like a pirate as Cap'n Scarblade, so that'll be different. Also I suspect their respective audiences will both interact with their storytelling, so that'd make some differences too.
Feedback: Whatever's on your mind! Also feel free to offer suggestions, or offer to beta or whatever. This is (of course) for the royalty and leaders collab. 10th January Content: AutobiographicalGenre: Very Short Story - Totality Starring: Reiqua in Two WeeksTwo weeks. They say a lot can happen in two weeks. Well actually, I don't really know of anyone who says that, but I'm sure if I asked her nicely Miss Frizzle would oblige me by saying it.
In two weeks, one could travel through 34 different countries in Europe, witness amazing things and have life-changing experiences! (Well, maybe... I'm not too sure whether there actually are 34 countries in Europe...)
In two weeks, one could travel most of the east coast of Australia, or travel from Town A to Sydney to Town B and back - twice! In two weeks Donald Trump will be president of the US
But I'm not talking about those sorts of things. The grand things, the human things... No my friends, I'm talking about the quiet - the unseen things that take place all around us. In the walls, in the garden, in the roof space... but most of all... in the fridge.
Two weeks ago I left my residence in Town A to drive to Sydney. I left my fridge and cupboards fully stocked in the knowledge that some things might well go off, but that I'd just have to discard those on my return.
The milk was an obvious candidate, so I flushed it down the toilet and bought a new milk straight away on my return to Town A. I was fortunate to find that my pantry had not been sullied by any ants, cockroaches, or the mice that so constantly plague the town around harvest time. This wonder is one that never ceases to amaze me as my pantry door is not very secure, and there is definitive evidence that the mice have, in the past, made their way into the linen press, and into my laundry cupboard in which I keep soap powder, pegs, and garden tools. (Both these are far more securely sealed than my pantry.) It seems to me that there must be considerably less incentive to break into those places than my pantry, and yet my pantry remains unsullied while my watering can and secateurs have received frequent visits from furry friends.
My pantry being intact, however, I turned my attention to the fridge where several Pyrex dishes containing old salad stuffs remained. "Oh dear," thought I, "this is not going to be pretty."
And so I put it off. For that evening, that morning, the whole day, two whole days, until finally I could ignore it no longer. It had to be done.
The carrot was the first to go. I removed its dish from the fridge and inverted it over the bin while the lump of carrot rot remained firmly fixed in place. Some gentle tapping availed nothing, some vigorous tapping not much more, until I drew a fork from the cutlery draw and (restraining my disgust) scraped the rest of the carrot into the bin.
Next up was some chopped up lettuce. It had looked rather perky two weeks ago, but you know what they say - a lot can happen in two weeks. It was mostly brown. And limpid isn't quite the word to describe the perfectly flat appearance of the lettuce as it adhered itself to the base of the container, coated above and below with a moderately thick layer of green slime. Back came the trusty fork, and with some encouragement, most of the lettuce was separated from its container and consigned to the bin.
I felt strangely as though I was reliving that episode of the magic school bus where Arnold has produced a mangy banana, and Tim's voiceover assigns it "two nose holds and a faint!" And then Wanda appears....
The next item in my fridge of horrors was tomato. And it was a worthy contender with Wanda's box of doom. Sitting in a pool of pale pink pus, were a few islands of Tomato slices adorned with furry spots of white. I had earlier been contemplating using my washup gloves to avoid touching the food. But by now that was out of the question. If I touched /this/ with them, they'd never be clean enough to wash up ever again! The trusty fork of grossness therefore made its return and the majority of the contents of the container were removed. The pale pink pus, however, was strangely determined to remain in the dish, so I simply placed it in the sink and ran water in it.
I realised at this point that my discoveries in these dishes had been growing progressively worse. "But that's okay," I told myself, "cos I've still got the lettuce pieces and they won't be as bad and... Oh."
Right before my eyes was the next thing on the shelf. Cucumber. Now I've had bad experiences with cucumber before and it’s not pretty. So I took this dish, placed it on the draining board, and cautiously opened the lid, taking care to point it away from me lest it squirted foulness over my person. As predicted, it was not pretty. The layer of slime in the bottom was much deeper than the tomato's, but somewhat runnier in consistency. The islands of cucumber slices were adorned not with white spots, but with black. To the undiscerning observer, there might not appear to be much to choose between this dish and the tomato dish. The discerning observer, however, would have noticed a certain quality to the cucumber that had been lacking in the tomato. I slimy sheen and sense of droop that indicated all was not as it seemed. And so indeed it wasn’t. Enter, once again, the trusty fork of grossness, which, when applied to the islands of cucumber slices, brought to light the fact that they were no longer... slices! They were in fact piles of sludge that, although they still looked like cucumber slices, had such a perfectly even texture that the fork could pass through them without any difficulty, accelerating the natural process of uniting the piles of smush with the lake of slime in one new and glorious goop. Into the bin went most of it. Into the sink went the dish to have water run into it.
There was only one dish left. The lettuce leaf dish.
Fortunately it held no great horrors other than some slightly wilted and somewhat pink and brown hued lettuce leaves, which fell obediently into the bin without needing to be threatened into submission by the trusty fork of grossness.
And so the saga of the far-too-foul salad came to an end, and I tied up the bin bag and marched it outside, feeling not a little grossed out by the whole process, but overall quite content with my ability to manage even the foulest of cucumber.
Writing Focus:As I started to write this I found myself thinking, 'hey, I should re-write this in third person and make it my narrative for the day'. Then I remembered my comments from yesterday about how I never write in first person and thought, 'huh! This is probably a good chance to practise writing in first person then'. So I did. Of course, the narration is rather more grandiose than my typical manner of speaking, mostly because I appreciated the way it worked well with the subject matter. The detailed description contrasts so nicely with the foul content when it's that... grandiose (for want of a better word). Also, I notice that I had trouble with the ending. This is autobiographical, so it doesn't really have an end - I still have to finish washing up those dishes, etc. But no-one wants to read about that (hushhh, I know no-one wanted to hear about this either, just leave me be, okay!) Anyways, I just tacked on a shoddy ending this time, and endings will be something I work on another day. Although if my current pattern is anything to go by, this project will be dominated by beginnings with the occasional middle and with ends being few and far between! And I thought I should just acknowledge, yes this is more than twice my 500 word upper limit, but because I would've written this today anyway, I didn't think it made sense to cut out a 500 word portion to post here when I can just post the full story in all its grossness! Feedback:Whatever's on your mind! Also how do you manage to write endings? I'd love to hear some thoughts. How did I go with using first person? I so rarely write it or read it that I don't really know! ADDIT: I never can remember whether it's the term cucumber or the term capsicum that's unique to Australia. But in case anyone's reading this and scratching their head as to what a cucumber is, it's this thing: 11th January Content: Neopets - Royalty and Leaders Genre: Short Story - Introduction A Starring: The Zafara Princess, also known as the Queen of Diamonds “Well,” began Grandpa, “Once upon a time there lived a young Zafara princess named Marjorie–”
“That’s her” enthused Miku excitedly, “she’s the Queen of Hearts!”
“Miku,” said Grandpa warningly.
“Miku let Grandpa tell the story,” I scolded, “and don’t interrupt!”
Miku subsided a little but didn’t look overly chastened.
“Well this young Zafara princess lived in a beautiful soaring castle in Meridell with her mother and father, and in the castle next door, there lived a young Gelert prince–”
“Wait, Grandpa!” protested Miku, “You can’t have two castles next door to each other! That’s just silly!”
I had just opened my mouth to tell Miku to be quiet again when his words struck me. That did make very little sense.
“Well,” said Grandpa, “you have to remember that this is Meridell. You know how many princes and princesses there are in Meridell! Well to fit them all in they have whole neighbourhoods full of castles. I mean, it’s mostly those cheap pre-fab castles you order through Weewoo post. But still, they’re castles!”
I think Grandpa noticed my sceptical look because he moved on pretty quickly.
“But, how about that story?” he said quickly, “I’ll start at the beginning this time, and no interruptions, okay?”
Miku nodded happily and settled down to listen.
Writing Focus:
I'm um-ing and ah-ing about using that style of highly-interrupted storytelling. I'll probably edit out most of Miku's interruptions later on to make it flow better. Edited. And I think I'm happier with it as it now is. A bit of a balance, but still quite biased towards the Miku story. Feedback: What do you think? Should I focus on the story Grandpa's telling or the story of Miku listening to a story. It's a bit Princess Bride, really, isn't it? 12th January Content: Neopets - Royalty and Leaders Genre: Short Story - Introduction B Starring: The Zafara Princess, and a prince whom I decided to name Garrick, after Jayeee 's one and only Garrick Stallion! Of course he's not, well, a Jay character, but he's probably going to be Garrick's equal in terms of charm, nobility, and dashing good looks, and might even have a little more empathy than his Stallion namesake. “Well once upon a time,” began Grandpa again, “there was a young Zafara princess named Marjorie and she lived in Meridell, in a nice castle, with her mum and dad. And in the castle next door,” he paused to look at Miku as though daring the young Gelert to contradict him, “there was a young Gelert prince named Garrick. Now, Marjorie and Garrick were the best of friends,” said Grandpa earnestly, “best of friends,” he repeated for emphasis, “and they would do everything together. They’d splash in the mud, they’d climb trees, they’d build mud pies....”
Miku’s eyes lit up at the prospect of being a prince and being allowed to do whatever he felt like. That would be the life!
“But,” continued Grandpa, “one day, Marjorie’s parents decided she was too old to be playing in the mud like that, and they decided she had to learn how to be a princess. A proper little lady. So Marjorie had to stay inside and politics and geography and embroidery and how to be a lady – etiquette.”
Miku pouted as though to say it wasn’t fair.
“Well she didn’t like it very much,” Grandpa said noticing Miku’s sullen expression, “she wished she could be outside playing with her friend. But sometimes at night,” his voice grew quiet and almost secretive, “Garrick would sneak over and climb a tree – just outside her window, and he’d take his lantern and... flash... flash... flash...”
Miku’s eyes widened.
“He’d send a message to Marjorie and then she’d sneak – very quietly! – out of the castle, past the guards, out into the garden, and go play with Garrick and they would climb trees –”
“Did they make mud pies Grandpa?” asked Miku hopefully.
“No I don’t think they would’ve made mud pies since it was night time,” Grandpa said.
Miku was visibly disappointed at this.
Comments: Hmmm, what can I name a prince... something a bit noble sounding... something not too common like 'George' or 'Louis'... It needs to be a name worthy of his charm, handsomeness, nobility, and regal bloodline... Of course! Who better to name him for than Garrick Stallion?
Writing Focus I think I'm happier with the amount of interruption from Miku here, or at least, I think it works better when his interruptions aren't verbal.
In my mind, Grandpa's story has to be all or none. Either it's all his words with no interruptions, or it's peppered with enough narrator comments that he doesn't have any unmanageably huge chunks of dialogue. Though maybe I'm wrong - maybe it would work to do it that way too...
Again, will probably be heavily edited. I'm planning to include in the princess' backstory a bit of an aversion to Mortog kissing and bring that back later on, and I think I probably need to work that in a little better here. EDIT: Done (see next instalment)
And that leads me to another big thing I'm wrestling with at the moment - how to write oral storytelling. I'm good with written storytelling. I'm good with writing stories that are meant to be told orally. But if you're just telling a story orally, spontaneously, your sentence structures are going to be less complex. They'll be clauses that just run into each other (that bit I'm fine with). And you'll probably include less detail. Like your story will be more poorly organised.
Maybe what I need to do is tell the story orally myself (right after I work out the plotline *cough, cough*), perhaps record myself doing so, and notice what sorts of things I do and don't include. I actually think that Grandpa would be a whole lot better at oral storytelling than me, since he's obviously a bit of a storyteller and I don't come from a culture where oral storytelling is a thing. Much as I'd like to develop the skill, I haven't yet. But still, I guess I'm a bit of a start point, and Grandpa can be an improvement on my oral storytelling.
Feedback: Any experience with writing about someone telling a story? How would you tackle documenting oral storytelling? How do you feel about Miku's interruptions at the moment? 14th January Content: NeopetsGenre: STC Beginning Starring: Jazan and two OCs created for the purposes of this story "No." said Guron. He flatly refused to believe the evidence of his senses. This could not be the place. Beside him stood a yellow Lenny who probably hadn't noticed that her beak was hanging open in shock.
"I'm sorry," Guron said to the real estate agent, "but this can't be right! The pictures looked nothing like this!" He indicated the bare floor, the unadorned dung walls of the dung hut, and the dilapidated roof.
"Ugh," was the Tyrannian Flotsam's only comment. It wasn't his problem if they hadn't done their research properly. "You bought it," he said in his heavily accented voice.
"No we didn't," protested the yellow Lenny beside him weakly, "King Jazan bought it as a holiday home for Nabile, and they'll be here to see it tomorrow..."
A guilty look crossed the real estate agent's face. Perhaps these weren't the uusual sort of customers that he was used to swindling.
"Ugga-akka urgh" he said philosophically, and before Guron could stop him he was off.
"Come back here you evil, theiving-"
"Guron," said his friend calmly, "it's not quite the time for that..."
Guron scowled darkly after the retreating figure.
"He's right, you know," she continued, "we did buy it, and now we need to get this place presentable before the king and queen arrive tomorrow."
"Thanks, Alia," sighed Guron subsiding a little, "you're right as always."
She smiled at him and placed a soothing hand on his shoulder.
"Now how about I get started on cleaning this place up, and you head into town and see if you can russle up some furniture, okay?"
So Guron reluctantly made his way into town, seething the entire way about that rotten real estate agent. He figured if he happened to run into the Flotsam in town, he might just teach him a well deserved lesson! Then rounding a corner, he did see a familiar face, but not one he wanted to see. He paused for a long moment in disbelief, then turned tail to get out of there as fast as he could.
But too late. He had hesitated a moment too long.
"Guron!" a voice hailed him.
He turned sheepishly to face the speaker. "Uh, hi King Jazan," he said awkwardly, "fancy seeing you here..." Comments: Well there's been a lot of Jazan love going about lately, so I thought that if this STC start gets in people might enjoy it.
Still, I notice people also seem a little uncomfortable with using site characters as POV characters, so thought I might as well strike a balance.
Also I love Tyrannia, or at least the Tyrannian language, so I thought I might as well chuck 'em all into an STC start (typed hastily on my phone while waiting for something) and because I don't have many trophies and am not an STC veteran, there's a decent chance it'll get picked even if it is poorer quality.
Writing Focus It's kinda interesting to think about how much to include and how much to leave open when writing a story for someone else to continue. For example, I made it fairly explicit that Alia was a yellow Lenny, but didn't assign Guron a colour or species.
And I didn't go into a lot of detailed description about the place. In my mind, I really just put the bare minimum to make it evident that the place was a 'problem', but then left the specific details of that problem, and thus how they might be resolved, open-ended.
I did however make the point of leaving my cliffhanger to be after Jazan had been identified - not before. Otherwise the next author would likely take it in a different direction and I wanted Jazan in this story, okay? xP
Feedback: What do you take into account when writing an STC beginning? Or any story that others will continue? Did I not put enough information? Did I make the direction of the story too specific? 14th January again (because being a Saturday I wrote more today, and since it's part of a story I'm already sharing, thought I might as well share this as well rather than just leave a gap) Content: Neopets - Royalty and Leaders Genre: Short Story - Introduction C Starring: The Zafara Princess aka Queen of Hearts in A story that has yet to be named“But they’d go for walks and have adventures,” Grandpa told him, “and one of Garrick’s favourite places to go was the pond just outside Meridell castle – the pond where all the Mortogs lived. He thought it was the best fun in the world to kiss a Mortog because, well, do you know what happens when you kiss a Mortog?” asked Grandpa.
“It goes BOOM!” answered Miku enthusiastically, almost exploding out of his chair in excitement.
“Yes it does,” smiled Grandpa indulgently, “but–” he paused and looked at me questioningly. He must’ve guessed I had something to say.
“But that only happens when it’s actually a Mortog,” I said very quickly, “some of them aren’t really a Mortog but they’re a prince or princess that got turned into a Mortog by a spell,” I told him, “and then they turn back into a prince or princess when you kiss them and they say ‘thank you very much’ and they might fall in love with you.”
Grandpa laughed paternally, “Yep that just about sums it up,” he said.
“But the rest of the time they go boom?” asked Miku hopefully.
“Yes, the rest of the time they go boom,” Grandpa assured him, “so when Garrick kissed the Mortogs they normally exploded and splattered him with red and green slime and made him all messy,” he said, eyes sparkling, “He thought it was great fun.”
Miku’s shining eyes showed that he probably agreed with Garrick on that one.
“But Marjorie hated it,” Grandpa continued solemnly. “She thought it was the grossest thing in the whole wide world to kiss a Mortog. She didn’t want to get slimy or anything.”
Miku looked entirely unimpressed with that attitude.
“Now Garrick was pretty sad about that,” Grandpa said, “because he liked making mud pies with Marjorie but now she didn’t want to get her dress dirty,” Grandpa put on a silly high-pitched voice, “‘and I might mess up my hair,’ she said, ‘and what if I break a nail?’”
Miku laughed uproariously at the silly impression.
“She would hold the lantern for Garrick,” Grandpa added, “but she would never kiss a Mortog. ‘Because they’re gross and slimy and ick!’” he said in his silly princess voice again.
“Now, Marjorie’s tutor was a Lenny called Danielle, and she taught Marjorie all about politics, and geography, and embroidery,”
Miku pulled a face.
“But she also taught Marjorie that a lady should always be good and kind. ‘Always think of others, Marjorie’” Grandpa said in his silly high-pitched voice again, “‘and always do nice things to people. Then people will do nice things for you!’”
Miku fell about laughing once more at his silly girly voice. Once he’d pulled himself together again, Grandpa kept on.
“Well,” Grandpa said solemnly, “Marjorie thought of those poor princes and princesses who had been turned into Mortogs, and she felt kinda bad because if she was a Mortog, she would want someone to kiss her and turn her back into a princess, but she still didn’t want to get all slimy if she accidentally kissed a Mortog Mortog by mistake instead of a prince Mortog.”
Writing FocusAs I wrote Introduction - Part C up the top of this entry, it struck me that I may well have spun this story out too long without including a complication... I mean, it's gone for 1200 words so far, and any fool can probably tell that the princess will be turned into a Mortog, but the point is, it hasn't happened yet... Hmmm... Anyways, had fun today working out the plot of the story and then storyboarding it (storyboarding is a crutch I use to help me be less terrible at oral storytelling), then I told the story to my recorder and, golly gosh, them strings of clauses are looong!!! Seriously girl, how many T-Units do you want in a string?! So I've just written it as it is (but more polished in content of course, since I was kinda all over the place), and I'll go back and revise sentence breaks later if need be. Also, really enjoyed the process of thrashing out the details and storyboarding. In case anyone's interested, I'll include my storyboard here, though consider yourself forewarned. There is no one who can butcher the use of stick figures more effectively than me! It'll be pretty horrendous. Storyboard:Apologies for dodgy phone camera quality. Feedback:How do you find the 'oral' style of Grandpa's speech so far? Do I need to pare it back a little? Make it less 'real' and more a perception of reality? To use June's statement over on the Sidewalk chat as analogous, is this a case of draw write what you see hear, or is it more interpret what you see hear? I'm thinking that to make it read well, I'll need to make it a little more of a representation than an actual faithful record of Grandpa's sentence-less, structure-less speech. But what do you think? Is it too hard to read like this?
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Post by Reiqua on Jan 16, 2017 6:39:36 GMT -5
16th January Content: Historical(?) Text Type: Short Story - Intro A Starring: Ruza (eventually) in Ruza (creatively named, I know) It was a hot day. The burning sun beat down relentlessly upon a long procession of people, snaking their way through the dry fields. At the head of the line four men carried a stretcher with a body upon it. The man walking directly behind it was swathed in a voluminous white robe and had a look of great self-importance about him. Behind him came the white-clad women, beating their breasts and wailing as if their very life depended on translating their sorrow into that sound; the men, stoically silent; the women, sobbing silent tears; and the children, trotting obediently beside the adults under the sun’s watchful eye.
One, Maasim, scrunched up his face in distaste. The glare of the sun hurt his eyes. The loud wailing of the mourners hurt his ears. The constant slapping of his bare feet on the dry, baked earth was almost unbearably painful on his skin.
“Uncle Borthan,” he asked, and then dropped his voice to a whisper when he realised how loud he had sounded in the silence that underlay the wailing.
Uncle Borthan looked a question at the lad, inviting him to continue.
“What will happen to Uncle Sharphak’s field now?” he whispered almost reverently, casting an eye over the dried and shrivelled husks around them.
“Oh, don’t you worry lad,” smiled Uncle Borthan, “Uncle Regidan will buy it. He won’t let it get taken by another family.”
“Well that’s nice of him,” piped up Maasim cheerily.
“Yeah, very nice,” scoffed his father, dropping back to join his son’s conversation, “especially since it effectively doubles his land.” He cast a significant look towards Uncle Borthan, but the man averted his gaze.
“He does what is right, Elmarak,” Uncle Borthan told him.
Elmarak only snorted derisively. Writing Focus:This entire discussion sums it up pretty well. (Though I will also pause to note that I was stumped for at least two minutes on how to begin this one - introductions don't usually give me that much trouble.) Feedback:I know it's early days yet, so quite hard to say whether this feels too unnecessary and out of place with the rest of the story... (I'm hopeful it won't) But how do you feel this goes? Is it blatantly obvious why Maasim's asking these questions? Is it boring and stilted or is there enough interest in the development of the context/story/characters? Also, (spoilers for the plot of the story): Maasim actually dies pretty soon and is not a major character throughout the story (though his Uncle Borthan is very major). Is it bad then to be using Maasim at this point to introduce concepts? I'm almost using him as a POV character, aren't I? 17th January Content: HistoricalText Type: Short Story - Intro B Starring: Ruza (eventually) in Ruza “Well if he has two fields, will Uncle Regidan be able to grow enough grain?” asked Maasim inquisitively.
“Uncle Regidan already has enough grain,” scowled his father darkly.
The boy’s steps faltered at the angry look on his father’s face. He was also confused. He could not understand the concept of someone having enough grain. For as long as he could remember, he’d watched his father trying to eke out a living from the dry earth, and Uncle Sharphak had tried to do the same. But a quick glance at the emaciated body on the stretcher up the front, or even at his father’s skin-and-bone physique, was testament enough to the hard times they all faced.
Elmarak’s thoughts had been following a similar line.
“You know,” he said to Borthan, dropping his voice to a whisper so that Maasim wouldn’t hear it, “if the drought doesn’t end this season I’m going to have to move the family to Modi.”
Beside him, Nalini stiffened. This wasn’t the first time her husband had spoken of moving to Modi. But it was the first time she had believed that he meant it.
He would actually do it. He would leave their family, the field, the inheritance. He would leave it all and start with nothing in a foreign country, among a foreign people, with foreign gods. She continued to walk straight ahead in the procession but her eyes were unfocused, seeing instead the future that awaited her. All the heartache, the poverty, the uncertainty...
She knew her husband. She knew he would go through with this. This was to be her life.
Writing Focus:Thinking a little about 'show don't tell' as ?I think Tiger, was saying. A couple of times, I'm showing not through dialogue, but through following the thoughts of one character or another. I hope that works as well. Because the dialogue would be very asinine if I tried to put it all in a conversation. And it's still not quite the narrator voice just glossing for you so... hopefully it works. Also, I realised when writing this that I actually had to make a constant effort to keep switching characters. My default would've been to keep it from Maasim's perspective, rather than have his parents and Uncle Borthan have an exchange that he's not even part of. Not sure how I feel about doing that - whether I shouldn't even try letting go of having a focus character, or whether it's actually a useful thing the learn to write like that... Feedback:Uhm, is that end to the introduction kinda cheap? Or does it work all right? Also, how did I go with my worldbuilding/probably-not-foreshadowing. Does it feel forced? Is it super obvious? Is there too much of a focus on narrator gloss? Too much "As you know, Bob" dialogue? How do you feel about me shifting heads a bit in this section. Does it feel unnatural? If I had to pick a perspective to settle on, it probably be Nalini, because as I said yesterday, Maasim dies. Also his brother Kirratah, whom I haven't introduced yet, and his father Elmarak, and... look basically everyone dies except Nalini and Borthan. But yes, any sort of feedback is most welcome - whatever crosses your mind! 20th January Content: Historical-ish Text Type: Short Story - Another bit In which Ruza finally gets a mention in Ruza “Well Nalini, surely our lives are not so bad as they might’ve been?” smiled Elmarak to his wife.
Nalini just smiled and slipped her hand into her husband’s, resting her head on his shoulder.
Today they had celebrated the wedding of their younger son, Kirratah. The ceremony had been a huge success, with most of the village joining in the procession. Elmarak had been able to afford a large dowry, thanks to several seasons of successful farming since he’d finally amassed the money to buy a field in Modi. Kirratah’s bride, a local Modiite woman named Orlan, was from a respected family within the community. And with Maasim’s marriage to Ruza being some months ago now, Nalini was beginning to entertain serious hopes for a grandson would carry on the family name, and could care for her in her old age.
Yes, she sighed contentedly, life was good.
Then she thought of the famine ongoing back home, and the large family they had left behind to start their small family here in Modi. She shut her eyes, as though to block out the unwelcome image. The move to Modi was her reality now, and there was no use in thinking of what might have been.
Writing Focus: Show don't tell is great, but I can't (or rather don't want to) show ~14 years of the kids growing up, of the family slowly getting accepted into Modi... So instead, I made Nalini think it, and showed you what she was thinking. That works, right? xP (Besides, I couldn't think of a natural context for it to come up in conversation unless one of her relatives from back home came to visit, and she was explaining stuff to said relative, but really, why write in another character for that. And I'm kinda writing historical, and that didn't happen so...)
Feedback: How do you feel about this section? Too much narrator voice? Or should I drop the pretence and make it entirely narratorvoice?
Also, I'm starting to feel really uncomfortable with this head switching thing. Maybe it's working, but I'm just not used to it... or maybe it's just not working. Thing is, Ruza is the best person's perspective to take, and the one I will probably take for most of the rest of the story, and she's only just made her first appearance. But I feel I really did need to put in that introduction bit before Ruza existed. I'd really love to know your thoughts on this topic, and I'm not afraid to beg for feedback!
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Post by Reiqua on Jan 23, 2017 6:57:57 GMT -5
Okay, so last week was a little woeful, but it was also really busy for me. I didn't want to get off to a bad start this week, though, so here we go... 23rd January Content: Bible StoryGenre: Oral storytelling (Part 1) Starring: Jack and Zack* in the Parable of the Two Sons* not their real namesOnce upon a time, there were two brothers. One was named Jack, and the other was named Zack.
Now, Jack and Zack had a father. His name was... Dad.
*don Akubra*
And Dad, he was a farmer. One day, he went to his sons, and he asked them to work on his farm. So along comes Dad, he goes up to Jack first, and he says, *gruff voice* “Jack, I want you to work on the farm today.”
*doff Akubra* *don baseball cap* *outline ‘screen’ with fingers, stare at it, click ‘mouse’ frantically*
*disengagedly* “Mmh? Oh, what, yeah, sure Dad, I’ll get out there right away. Yep, no worries.”
But you know what Jack did?
Well he was busy playing Minecraft, so he just played a little more of that. Then he got up, and stretched. He went off... to the fridge. Got himself a drink. Came back. Sat down. Played a little bit more Minecraft... and you know what? He never did go and work on the farm.
Writing Focus/Feedback: Not much to say here today, since it's oral storytelling and that's kinda super different and won't translate well, since it'll be voice and body language that give all the 'he said/she said' information, and add the colour and emotion to the characters and... yeah. Basically I just wanted something quick to write because it's kinda late here, and I need to write this this week anyway 24th January Content: Bible StoryGenre: Oral storytelling (Part 2) Starring: Jack and Zack in the Parable of the Two Sons*don Akubra*
Then Dad went to his second son.
“Hey Zack? Zack, I want you to go work on the farm today,”
*doff Akubra* *don another baseball cap* *hold up ‘Wii remote’ and concentrate hard on something, tongue out, leaning left and right as appropriate*
“Sorry? Wha? Oh, not now Dad, too busy playing Mario Kart.”
But you know what, it wasn’t too long before Zack got to thinking.
“Hmm, I really should go work on the farm, shouldn’t I...” *sets down Wii remote lovingly* “Hang in there Mario, I’ll be right back.”
So Zack went out and he worked all day on the farm. *dig holes* *wipe sweat from brow* *swivel baseball cap around* *dig more holes* (I don’t know what he was digging holes for, but I’m sure it was important.)
*doff baseball cap*
And now, I have a question for all of you: Which son did what Dad said? *kids say: Zack, duh*
Comments: Now with stage directions! Although, there's a lot more detail in my head as to how it'll look. What I really haven't worked out yet is how on earth I'm gonna handle the handheld mic, cos I'll need both hands for switching hats, let alone 'playing Mario Kart' and 'digging in the dirt'. Ah well, maybe I'll just do it without a microphone. There won't be that many kids that they won't hear me, and they'll all be up the front anyway. Just the adults up the back won't hear. 25th January Content: Bible StoryGenre: Oral storytelling ('Moral') Starring: Jack and Zack in the Parable of the Two SonsNow, did you know that Jesus once told this story? But when he told it, it didn’t have Minecraft and Mario Kart in it. I added those bits in.
Jesus told this story to some very important Jewish leaders and priests. It was their job to make, sure, every-one, followed, God’s, laws! They heard God’s words and said “Yes, God, Yes!” but Jesus told them this story because they were just like Jack. They said ‘yes’, but did they do what God said? *shake head sadly* No. Did they love God? *shake head sadly again* No.
“But!” Jesus told the important people, “the sinners are getting it right!”
The sinners were the ones who didn’t play silly games, saying “Yes, God, Yes!” But they loved him. And they were the ones who did what he said. Like Zack did what Dad said.
And what about you? What do you do? Do you listen to God’s word? Do you just say “Yes, God, Yes!” like Jack? Or do you do what he wants like Zack?
Let’s quickly pray for God to help us be like Zack. *insert short prayer*
Comments: Inserting morals into stories is always tricky. I actually have quite a bit of practise of writing stories with morals, or, well, I don't really like the term 'moral' since it implies there's some form of prescriptive "Now go and do this or else!", which maybe this story kinda does have, but overall I'm far more comfortable with the term "teaching point" because, well, reasons xD Anyways, the minute you end your story and insert a moral/teaching point, you have about two sentences before you lose your readers/listeners completely. Trouble is, I physically can't do it in two sentences on this story because I have to include the context for Jesus telling the story. It's almost like a secondary mini-story in it's own right. So I guess my 'moral' sentence is the line that starts with 'And what about you', which is kinda short. Possibly a little over two sentences, but you kinda can't measure speech with sentences and punctuation marks anyway. I'll just have to hope that the kids don't take my change of tack to the Jesus story as their cue for 'almost done, time to tune out right about now', cos if they do I won't have many listeners for the last minute of my little talk! We'll see how I go 28th January It's Lunar New Year! Which of course is completely irrelevant to my writing but may as well comment on it, right? Today is a little different in that I didn't really write 100-500 words per se, but I did work on my writing storytelling, so I'll comment on that. Reflections:The editing process is really quite different for telling an oral story than a written story. For a written story, you have to make sure that it reads well. For an oral story, it has to sound good and look good. My process today was a couple of things: - Editing - noticing things like how the phrase "Once upon a time" doesn't really work for a casual form of oral storytelling
- Cutting things down - as I had written it, it was a five minute story to tell, and it should be about half that. I've currently got it down to four so we'll just have to cope, I think.
Fortunately most of the cut-down came from the 'moral' section, so I think I'll now have a better chance of holding the kids' attention for that. - Refinement of voice. And I don't mean literary voice, I mean actual tone of voice in the telling of the story.
Now I'm actually terrible (extremely terrible) at putting on different voices to represent different people. As a speech pathologist I say this to my shame. But one thing I can do is load my voice with sincerity in terms of tone of voice, attitude, etc... y'know, basic actorly things. So I do that a lot when relating dialogue. - Refinement of movement. My only props for this story are a chair and three hats (Oh, and I have to juggle a microphone). So thinking about when to least distractingly switch hats, and how to best portray the other things I'm doing is kinda interesting. Again, some basic drama principles at work here, like picking up a 'drink' from the 'fridge', you can't just pick it up because there's no way it'll carry to the back of the church. You've gotta swipe it enthusiastically from the shelf. Or trudging - you can't just trudge. You've gotta literally drag your feet. Clicking a mouse to play minecraft: I've gotta hold my 'mouse' at a way-too-high, way-too-far-out-from-my-body position or else, again, there's no way it'll carry. The main thing I'm concerned won't come across well enough is the Wii remote, but... we'll see how it goes.
Another consideration with the movement is things like how I was originally going to have Dad get off the chair, walk a circuit and find his son sitting on the chair and talk to the chair, but I now think it works better (is smoother) if Dad just stands up and immediately starts talking to the chair. - Memorisation! I'm already juggling a microphone, there's no way I can have a full text written out in front of me. So yeah, good thing memorisation is pretty easy for me!
And for posterity's sake, I shall include the edited work here:
I’m going to tell you a story today. It’s a story about two brothers: Jack and Zack.
Now, Jack and Zack had a father called... Dad.
And Dad, he was a farmer. *don Akubra*And one day, Dad said to Jack, *standing* *gruff voice* “Jack, I want you to work on the farm today.”
*doff Akubra*
But Jack, he was a bit busy playing Minecraft.
*don baseball cap*
*start* “Oh, yeah, sure Dad! Whatever you say. Yep, I’ll get out there right away. Yeah, no worries.”
But you know what Jack did?
Well first he just played a bit more Minecraft. Then he got up. *stretch* And he went *trudge right* *open fridge*... to the fridge. Got himself a drink. *take drink* *come back* *sit down* *open drink* And he played a little bit more Minecraft... *doff cap* And you know what? He never did go and work on the farm.
*don Akubra*
Then Dad went to his second son.
“Hey Zack? Zack, I want you to go work on the farm today,”
*doff Akubra* *don another baseball cap*
*Concentrate hard on something, tongue out, leaning left and right as appropriate* “Wha? No, not now Dad! I’m busy playing Mario Kart.” *continue playing short while*
But you know what? It wasn’t too long before Zack started felt bad.
“Hmm, I really should go work on the farm, shouldn’t I...”
*look wistfully at ‘Wii remote’* *place on seat* *walk right*
So Zack went out and he worked all day on the farm. *doff cap* *sit down*
And now, I have a question for all of you: Which son did what Dad said? *kids say: Zack, duh*
Now, did you know that Jesus once told this story? But when he told it, it didn’t have Minecraft and Mario Kart in it. I added those bits in.
Jesus told this story to some very important people who were just like Jack. They heard God’s words and said “Yes, God, Yes!”, but did they do what he said? *shake head sadly* No. Did they love God? *shake head sadly again* No.
Now I want you to think for a moment. What about you? Do you listen to God’s word? Do you just say “Yes, God, Yes!” like Jack? Or do you do what he wants like Zack?
Let’s quickly pray for God to help us be like Zack. “Dear God, please help us to listen to your words, and do what you want. Amen.” 29th January Well I haven't written today, and I don't anticipate having time to. (In fact it'll be a little touch and go as to whether I manage to write anything next week, things are looking pretty crazy at the moment!) But today I did 'perform' the story I've been writing this week, so I thought I'd post a few reflections on that process. Reflections:1/ No one these days tells stories. The mere fact that I told a story got me almost two dozen compliments after church this morning. It's really rather overwhelming knowing what to do with that many compliments. And at the same time, I don't think I was the epitome of good storytelling. I was just a storyteller and the fact that oral stories are so few and far between made it stand out more. 2/ It's strange how you almost don't notice all the faces on you. When I'm telling a poor story, and they're all fidgety and restless, I can cope with that. But I much prefer to be telling a good story and have a rapt audience. Still, it's a bit strange having an audience that's engaged, but silent. It's kinda like nothing else, since when we normally tell casual stories (to small clumps of people at a party or maybe to a friend) our audience engages by making comments, or interested noises. Not so when you've got a large group, though.
3/ You can't hear smiles. There were numerous moments in that story where I thought people might chuckle. Like when the first son Jack goes (implication being to work on the farm) but in fact gets a drink. But I didn't hear a stir. I wondered briefly if the humour fell flat, but on a bit of reflection, had I been listening to the story I would certainly have smiled at the funny bits, but I wouldn't have laughed audibly. So there you go.
4/ A well written story does the lot. Yes I wrote this with an oral medium in mind (obviously - it doesn't read too well as narrative), but having written it, I feel like I didn't put that much skill into the telling of it. The skill was all in the deciding how to tell it, and once that's done, you're done! You've got your story.
Concluding thoughts: This was absolutely and without a doubt, great fun. I like telling stories, I want to improve my oral storytelling, and a little praise goes a long way to improving my confidence to continue with storytelling. What more could I ask for in a storytelling experience? I should do this more often
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