Ariel.of.Narnia: *wonders if writers' is on today*
Dearheart: *wondering the same thing*
Ariel.of.Narnia: I tried to reach Tenny over FB
Ariel.of.Narnia: And I don't think she said anything about me running...
Ariel.of.Narnia: *got a reaction from Tenny*
Ariel.of.Narnia: Aaaaaand, it looks like it's just you and me, Dearheart.
dearheart: Hey, that's cool too
Ariel.of.Narnia: Well, hopefully more people show up... meantime, do you have anything to share?
dearheart: Yep, I have a piece of something...
Ariel.of.Narnia: Excellent!
dearheart: I know it's been a while since I last showed up here, but were you here when I was sharing my Owl City story?
Ariel.of.Narnia: Yes! Beautiful Times and fireflies and screaming and a woman's voice and sky diving and-- yes. I was here.
dearheart: Haha xD
Ariel.of.Narnia: Actually have been thinking of it a lot recently because I'm again on an Owl City kick...
dearheart: Teehee. You're welcome.
dearheart: Anyway, I have an actual deadline for the story now, because I GOT VIP TICKETS TO MEET THE MAN HIMSELF
Ariel.of.Narnia:
!!!!!!!dearheart: And I want to give the story to him as a gift.
Ariel.of.Narnia: Duuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuude!
dearheart: I KNOWWWWWWW
dearheart: I'M SO EXCITED YOU HAVE NO IDEA
Ariel.of.Narnia: I'm obviously nowhere near the same fan status as you, but I'm still like
for you!!dearheart: Haha, thanks
Ariel.of.Narnia: So, uh, when's this deadline...?
dearheart: So right now, I've got little drabbles written in roughly each section of the story line, and I'm trying to work on them one at a time and turn them into full chapters
Ariel.of.Narnia: *nods*
dearheart: October 24 is the day it's happening, but I'm making the deadline October 20th.
Ariel.of.Narnia: Okay
dearheart: Right now, I'm *this close* to finishing the prologue, so that's what I'll share today.
dearheart: And quick note before I start: Michael is Sam's little brother, he has autism, and he's the kid in the "Beautiful Times" music video. I've loosely based him off my own little brother.
Ariel.of.Narnia: Okay.
dearheart: Anyway...here's what I've got of the prologue:
Dearheart shares ~
dearheart: The monster on the other side of the door was still yelling.
Michael’s cheek throbbed. He couldn’t hear the words; his ears wouldn’t stop ringing and his head wouldn’t stop buzzing and it felt like all his insides had turned into snakes, crawling out of his skin and up his throat. Every cell in his body screamed. He groaned and dug his fingers into his face, neck, hair, /anywhere/ that would make it stop.
“No, no, Michael, don't hurt your head,” said another voice. It was blurry and far away, but he knew who it belonged to.
“Sam,” he gasped, “I can’t—”
“The blanket,” she said, and the words swam to him like paint in water. “Squeeze the blanket instead. Go ahead and hit it, if you need to. Just not your head, okay?”
More yelling. The monster pounded into the door again. Michael could see his sister across from him in a square of dim moonlight, sitting against the dresser she’d barricaded their room with, arms braced behind her to hold back the danger. The drawers rattled, and she rattled with them; but she looked at him and smiled. “Don’t worry. I won’t let him get you.”
He pressed his palms into his eyes and cried. “We have to cover the clocks; we just /have/ to. The numbers are burning me.”
“I know,” said Sam. Her voice trembled. “I know it’s hard. But there's no numbers in this room right now. No clocks. And no bad people. You’re going to be okay, I promise.”
She reached up, fumbling for something on top of the dresser. The object dropped into her lap. She gathered it up in one hand and threw it to him like a lifeline - her earbuds and mp3 player.
“Just listen to the music. You’ll be okay.”
Still curled up on the floor, Michael reached for the cord of the earbuds with shaking fingers and closed his fist around it.
Sam drew in a sharp breath as the door thundered. The sounds crashed in his head and he wailed in pain; but when his hand jerked back, it pulled the music player towards him. The tiny screen glowed next to him, a beacon in the dark.
“That’s it,” she encouraged. “Just listen to the music. Don’t think about anything else right now. Just listen. It’ll help you.”
Michael gritted his teeth, feeling around the floorboards until he found the earbuds again. He shoved them in his ears and hit the play button, his whole body clenched, not moving, not breathing until he heard the first three familiar seconds of the song.
His blanket was in a rumpled heap near his head. He reached and pulled the comforting weight over his shoulders as snug as he could, to press down all the noise in his skin. Then he let the music flow into him, loosen him. The piano twinkled softly, silvery tones dancing in soothing patterns, and everything else - the bad man, the scary noises, even Sam's wobbly smile - all of it melted away. Nothing mattered now but the music and the voice singing to him.
/Close your tired eyes, relax, and then
/ Count from one to ten, and open them./
He always liked how nice this version of the song felt. Quiet and calm and cool, just like nighttime. This voice had some wonderfully gentle songs. A lot of fun ones, too. But gentle was so much better right now.
There was a pale ribbon of moonlight close to him on the floor, from a gap in the curtains. It looked like a miniature of the long sidewalk outside his old school, where Sam used to walk with him. Before Dad got in trouble and they had to go away. He traced the light with his eyes and imagined himself very small - small enough to step on the moon-sidewalk and walk on and on, up and up, all the way out the window into the sky.
/All this gravity will try to pull you down,
/ But not this time./
The notes sparkled around him like stars, swept him aloft on shimmering wings, and now he was flying. He was so high up that when he looked down, there weren’t any houses or trees. No streetlights, no cars, nothing to remind him of the world below. Only a vast ocean of clouds that stretched out as far as he could see, glowing beneath the giant moon. All the while, the magic voice was with him and the music seemed to spread and fill the night, every moonbeam and cloudy wisp entwining with melody and harmony.
And then, slowly – so slow he barely noticed – it faded into a steady hum at the back of his mind. Michael blinked, and saw the wings that carried him now were made of white feathers. He was straddling something warm and soft. And the owner of the wings was mumbling the lyrics for “Shooting Star” under their breath, woefully out of tune.
He grinned. “Hi, Thomas.”
“Hello, Michael!” said the snowy owl, turning to wink a golden eye at him. “Wasn’t expecting you to randomly appear on my back tonight, but it’s good to have you…well, back.”
“Oh. /Oh!/ I’m back and I’m on your /back!/”
Thomas laughed. “I wasn’t even trying; that one just slipped out. Anyone ever tell you your reactions to puns are the greatest?”
“Yeah. Sam says that, too.” Michael paused, a heavy feeling growing in his chest. “I wish she could come here. But I don't think she knows how anymore.”
“The Real World’s still putting you two through the wringer, eh?”
“I don’t understand.”
“What I meant was, are you and Sam having hard times again? On the other side?”
“Oh, I see. Yes. The man at this house is really…mean. I want the social worker to take us home, but she won’t. We’ve been away 556 days, but nobody will tell me how many are left until we go back home and it makes my brain upset.”
“That’s rough.”
He shivered and leaned forward on his stomach, laying his head down on Thomas’s feathers. “I feel all squeezed up inside now. I need to stop talking.”
“No worries,” said Thomas, weaving back and forth through the clouds. “Just relax and enjoy the flight, my friend. Never know when the Real World will yank us back.”
They flew on in a comfortable silence for a minute. Michael listened to the fresh, cool air rushing over them and drank it in deeply. Pure and perfect, not a whiff of beer or cigarettes anywhere. He wished he could bottle it up and take it back with him, but he knew it was impossible to take imaginary things into his own world. The two universes weren’t designed to mix that way. It made him a little sad.
But he supposed, as others have, that leaving beautiful things behind is what makes them so special when you return to them.
dearheart: Aaaand that's all there is for now.
Lil: DH! glomptackles*
Ariel.of.Narnia: Wow
dearheart: Lilybunny!! *glomptackles back*
gypsevedius: (*sneaks in in my cloak and sits in the corner to watch*)
dearheart: S o...any feedback? I want this to be as good as I can get it before the deadline. For obvious reasons.
Sir-Edward: *sneaks in with a sneakier cloak and sits in other corner*
Lil: *scrolls back up to read*
gypsevedius: smiley-razz
dearheart: *didn't realize there was a Sneaky Cloak competition happening*
Ariel.of.Narnia: My first comment is this: it's just as whimsical as his songs. I hope he catches on to that.
Gypsevedius: xD
Ariel.of.Narnia: Also, the little references to his stuff.
dearheart: smiley-lol
Lil: .oO ( It's so great to see you. I was listening to 'bid me not farewell today.' and thinking about you today."
Ariel.of.Narnia: Poor Michael. I was happy to see him able to escape, even if poor Sam is stuck blocking the door...
dearheart: Yeah, poor Sam
Ariel.of.Narnia: But I love heroic siblings so... keep her there as long as you need
dearheart: Basically she stays on earth so he doesn't have to. As a result, she's pretty cynical and messed up. That gets explored later...
Ariel.of.Narnia: So I imagine that her dreams have turned to dust?
dearheart: Oh, you have NO idea...
dearheart: Basically, the whole Ultraviolet EP is the backbone of this story. Including "This Isn't The End".
Ariel.of.Narnia: I figured that song would play into this
gypsevedius: That's awesome!
dearheart: Only instead of her dad, it was her mom. and...yeah. the Real World has not been kind to them since.
Lil: I own half of the ultraviolet EP
Ariel.of.Narnia: This is gonna be one epic story, that's all I can say.
dearheart: But a little trip to Owl City can work wonders...
gypsevedius: smiley-razz
Ariel.of.Narnia: Heehee, quite!
dearheart: Anyway. I'll stop hogging the floor now.
Lil: *loves what I did get to see of the writing*
Ariel.of.Narnia: (Psst: Will and Ed:viewtopic.php?f=48&t=496)
Lil: DH, Ariel wrote a pretty excellent piece inspired by the song 99 ballons
Sir-William: Thanks for the link
dearheart: Ohhh!
Ariel.of.Narnia:(@Will: welcome. )
Lil: *searches for Ariel's 99 balloons song story*
dearheart: Ariel, I'd love to see your 99 Balloons story!
Lil: *once did a drabble for "Swimming in Miami"
Ariel.of.Narnia: *also looks for her story* meanwhile...
Ariel.of.Narnia: Does anyone else have something to share?
dearheart: *shines spotlight on random people*
sofia n nancy: Well, not really..
sofia n nancy: Hmm..
gypsevedius: Hi, Sofia.
Ariel.of.Narnia: (@DH: viewtopic.php?f=37&t=471)
sofia n nancy: Heys Gypse
dearheart: (Squee! thank you!)
Ariel.of.Narnia: Jaygee asked me to share something she wrote, if no one else wants to take the floor
Sir-William: I do, but it doesn't feel very fair to share it after I showed up late and missed reading all of your stories.
Ariel.of.Narnia: Only one has been shared so far, Will.
sofia n nancy: I did the same.. :/
Tenethia Brandybuck (Mod): *snoops along the edge of things*
Tenethia Brandybuck (Mod): *waves hello to Dearheart*
Sir-William: *waves to a Tenny* well you go first, Ariel.
dearheart: *waves hello back!*
sofia n nancy: That's a long screen name.. lol
Lil: *drags Tenny to set next to Her and DH*
Sir-William: With Jaygee's thing
Tenethia Brandybuck (Mod): *is sat down next to Lil* oh, I'm staying now? Ok
Ariel.of.Narnia: Okay, I'll proceed with Jaygee's
Jaygee shares ~
Ariel.of.Narnia: so this is a prologue to an original fantasy story she's working on
Ariel.of.Narnia: /My dear son, I wish that I had been courageous enough to tell you what I truly believe before now. I hope that I will be able to speak to you about the truth. I pray to the One that I will return to you, Elias./ The rustling of an opening tent flap made the scribe look up from his letter. “Oh, it’s you,” he said, seemingly relieved.
The intruder gave no answer.
“Is something wrong? It’s a little late for a social call,” the writer continued.
The prowler was still silent.
“What is it? Are we under attack?”
The man raised his arm, the glint of a steel blade revealing his mission.
“What- what are you doing?” The scribe fumbled about for his own sword.
The other was quicker, though, and darted forward to stab his victim in the stomach before the sword had cleared its sheath. Collapsing to his knees, the scribe whispered, “Why? Why would you do this?
“Fool! You know why,” the assassin hissed, twisting his blade to compel a gasp of pain from the dying man.
“You’re… a… coward.”
“No, but you’re a traitor.”
The dead body made no reply.
With a satisfied smile, the murderer yanked his sword free, stooping to wipe the blade clean on the dead man’s clothes. “Quite a nasty business,” he whispered and glided to the desk and lifted the letter from it. Scanning the contents, he crumpled it in his fist, sneering. “Young Elias will never know now.”
He silently dragged the body out of the tent, returning only to blow the candle out. Darkness enveloped the pavilion.
Ariel.of.Narnia: And that's the end of that
Ariel.of.Narnia: Comment away!
dearheart: DUN DUN DUNNNNNN
gypsevedius: O.O
Lil: AAAAAAAAAAAAAAh!
Sir-William: Poor guy, wow
Lil: *clutches DH's arm apprehensivelly*
Sir-Edward: Ouch
Lil: *cough* sorry
Ariel.of.Narnia: Haha, pretty much my reaction as well. Anyone care to elaborate? She may not be here, but she'll be reading the log
sofia n nancy: I’d completely forgotten about Writers' group, or I would've written something..
Sir-William: Still, in a strategy game once, I wiped out the entire royal family of Scotland and most of France with a whole squad of assassins.
sofia n nancy: smiley-lol
Sir-William: As for Jaygee's story, I'm clueless as to anything from that prologue
dearheart: I like it! Very dramatic! I'm not sure how I feel about the villain though (other than OMG YOU JERK). He feels a little cliché to me...
sofia n nancy: Well, it is an interesting beginning
dearheart: Like, mustache-twirling cliché
Sir-William: I guess that the reason behind the assassination might cause the cliché part to vary somewhat
dearheart: (not trying to be harsh I promise, just being honest!)
Tenethia Brandybuck (Mod): *turns her head towards Dearheart* I'd like to hear you elaborate, really.
Ariel.of.Narnia: I found it gripping in the short time this prologue has. I think my only complaint is that the killer has about four or five different titles (eg: intruder, prowler, murderer, etc). But that may just be me.
Lil: *swings an arm around DH*
dearheart: To me, the job of a prologue is 1) grab the readers attention and set the story, and 2) show the reader what might make it unique from every other story
dearheart: I feel like this prologue did a solid job on the first thing, but was a bit weaker on the second thing
Lil: I think perhaps more of the story might provide more light?
Sir-William: Now there's a thought
Sir-William: A good one too
dearheart: Oh definitely, I'm not arguing that
Sir-William: An expert I'd imagine
Tenethia Brandybuck (Mod): *nods* would you elaborate on some specific things that made it feel cliché? I'm sure Jaygee would like to know that.
Lil: *nods*
dearheart: yes, I'm trying to put that into words...
Lil: I think I understand where DH is coming from
Tenethia Brandybuck (Mod): *nods* take your time.
Sir-William: *idles to take a shower*
Lil: Is it the use of fool?
dearheart: Basically, I feel like there could be more subtle emotional cues for the villain's motive in killing the scribe.
dearheart: The gleeful satisfaction is what makes him feel over-the-top and "look at me I'm a villain! Hate me!"
dearheart: When he first stabs the good guy, he's very angry.
dearheart: "Why?" "You know why."
Ariel.of.Narnia: Mm, point. I see what you're getting at
Tenethia Brandybuck (Mod): *nods*
dearheart: I feel like that anger should carry on a little more...and instead of making his satisfaction seem gleeful, make it vengeful.
dearheart: Bitter.
Lil: Twistedly happy?
dearheart: That would make him feel more interesting to me, even if I don't know what's going on
dearheart: I mean, I don't know who he is or what his villain character arc is, so maybe I'm totally off the mark
Ariel.of.Narnia: well, this /is/ our first impression of him
dearheart: But the gleefully twistedly happy thing is what makes him seem boring to me.
dearheart: Yes
Ariel.of.Narnia: It's only fair to question things like this.
Tenethia Brandybuck (Mod): *nods*
dearheart: But anyway...that's just my two cents. Everyone is free to ignore me on this, lol..
Ariel.of.Narnia: Any further comment for Jaygee?
Lil: *waves paw*
Ariel.of.Narnia: Go for it, Lil!
Lil: *races to type faster before comments close*
Ariel.of.Narnia: *stalls for you*
Dearheart: *dances a jig* I am not dead yet, I can dance and I can sing!
dearheart: I am not dead yet, I can do the Highland Fling!
Lil: I think it's legitimate. What DH is saying. (Of course many people here are better than I at writing.
Lil: And I have yet to write a decent villain
Lil: But on the other hand, it could be a "in the middle of things" story
Lil: You know the kind where, we go back to find out what happened?
Ariel.of.Narnia: *nods*
Lil: in medias reis or something like that
Tenethia Brandybuck (Mod): (Uuuunfortunately, I have to dash. *hugs all and poofs*)
dearheart: (awww, bye!)
Sir-Edward: *waves!*
Lil: *tennyhugs*
Lil: He does remind me, I guess a bit like the villains we're familiar with from shows and cartoons and the like, but I did feel the begining was very gripping
Ariel.of.Narnia: Bye, Tenny!
Lil: If the rest of the story is this fascinating, I'm surely interested
Lil: *not a crituque of jaygee, just a comment on reading in general. Has read some really excellent scenes with stories that lost my interest*
Lil: Keep up the good work!!
Ariel.of.Narnia: Thanks, DH and Lil
Ariel.of.Narnia: Is there another who'd like to share?
Sir-William: I'll go if you don't mind
Lil: *hasn't yet figured out writing villains so can't critique*
Sir-Edward: he has to go drive somewhere at five o clock.
Sir-William: Ok, so just as a warning to all of you critics, you may say all you wish about my story, but even if I agree with you, I have no intention of going back and changing anything.
gypsevedius: smiley-razz
Sir-William shares ~
Sir-William: A bright light emitted from the engines of Jim Marone's shuttle as he lifted off for the transport ship that was to carry him to the Relving home world. He had spent 6 months in preparation for this meeting and still he was nervous. The leaders of his planet were counting on him to secure an alliance with these aliens, but the fact that all previous attempts to do so by other diplomats had failed did not ease his worry.
A voice from the intercom interrupted his thoughts. "Are you ready to dock, sir?"
"Yes, I am in position," Jim replied.
"You are cleared for docking," the voice informed him.
“Copy that," Jim said. Turning his control stick to the left, he began guiding his craft into the shuttle bay. "Well, to look on the bright side of all this," he thought to himself, "I'll have four more days to prepare myself while we fly to the planet."
But those dreaded four days passed much too quickly for Jim, and he soon found himself looking out of the bridge windows to see a planet floating in space not far from the ship. There were the two moons he had been told he would see orbiting the planet. And the planet did look very green from space as reported, but the only large desert on the planet, which the aliens had as of yet refused to reveal the name of, was large enough to be clearly visible from space. And then the dreaded beep of the intercom was heard.
"Ambassador, the High Council is hailing us," the com officer affirmed what Jim already knew. This was the big first step. If he did not give all the correct greetings in the right order and fast enough, his mission would be over before it had even had a chance to begin. Adjusting his collar, he took a deep breath.
"Members of the High Council," he began in measured tones, "I am Jim Marone of the Alliance of Temening. On behalf of our entire planet, I offer you greetings." Holding his breath he waited for a reply. He had carefully waited 2 seconds before starting each sentence, but what if it wasn't close enough?
“To Jim's relief, a deep, gravelly, but noble voice came through the speakers to greet him.
"Your greeting has been accepted and reciprocated. A place on shuttlepad 4 has been cleared for your landing."
Jim breathed a sigh of relief and was about to thank the speaker, when he caught himself just in time from speaking while the smile was on his face. The aliens would not accept any emotion in his voice, and even a smile could sometimes be heard in a subtle way. Best not to risk it. He put on a solemn expression and thanked the speaker. The transmission was cut and Jim hurried to his shuttle.
Fifteen minutes later he was approaching the landing pad. He carefully made sure to land his shuttle with the nose pointing towards the capital building as was the custom of the aliens. Once he touched down on the landingpad, he secured the ship with docking clamps and opened the shuttle door. A group of five aliens in flowing robes were coming down the walkway to the landingpad. Jim stood up quickly and moved forwards to meet them.
It was customary in such a situation that the visiting group stop one and a half meters before the receiving group does, and only then will greetings be exchanged. Estimating the distance as best he could, he stopped just short of reaching them. The bluish-green skinned creatures came on for a moment longer and then also came to a stop. Then everyone just stared at each other for 30 seconds. Jim had cheated this step by installing a timer deep within his right ear so as to be certain when the 30 seconds were up. At the exact same moment, he and the alien standing closest to him in the group raised his right arm.
"We welcome you," the alien greeted him.
"I receive your greeting," Jim replied.
The alien then proceeded to raise his right hand above Jim's and smack it with incredible force. Jim was expecting it but he still found it necessary to think of sheep, mountains, and beautiful, green grass to keep from wincing and offending the aliens.
Once again the timer in Jim's ear came in handy for he knew that he must walk at a certain pace at all times. That being a little over one and a half seconds. Finally they were all seated in the council chamber and Jim felt that at last progress was being made. Just as he feared, however, the council elder informed all present that Jim would recite the ceremonial poem that would bring the council to session. Fortunately, Jim had rehearsed the poem a million times in case of such an event happening.
“Remember," Stenockus, his mentor in the alien's language, had told him, "It's mostly the vowels that they care about. If you can just pronounce those right, then they'll probably except it. But close enough doesn't cut it. It has to be perfect."
Thankfully, even though the poem was hard, it was only three sentences long. Apparently he recited the passage correctly because everyone began to talk at once. The usual silence and solemnity of the group was suddenly broken in a massive squabble of noise and shouting. However, this did not alarm Jim in the least, for he knew that it was their custom that whoever shouted the loudest would be heard. So Jim shouted as loud as he could. He yelled and screamed, but he was always sure to use proper grammar lest he insult one of the aliens.
An hour went by and Jim had almost sealed the alliance. His voice was hoarse but apparently the aliens were impressed with his vocal range. And then he had it: The symbolic tablet that these aliens had used for hundreds of years for matters of great importance. And written on it were the names of all the high council members. Jim took up the special magnetic implement that would make a mark in this material and added his own name. Good, that was done; now to get out of here. But another hurtle remained: the aliens had invited him to eat with them. The dishes and silverware were laid out and then the food brought in. To Jim's relief, the aliens had chosen a dish that they knew their human guest would at least find palatable. It looked like a sea creature of some type, but it looked tasty enough. Most likely it was a kind of squid known as a Squab.
It was customary that the head of the council cut and serve the food to all present while the diners sit very still. Jim used this time to glance out of the corner of his eye at the vast range of utensils spread out around his plate. He reviewed once again the order and purpose in which each utensil was to be used. "Yes, I think I remember it all," he said to himself. And then it was time to dig in and Jim carefully selected a rather long fork-like instrument to start out with along with a very short but sharp knife. Picking up the fork first would offend his hosts greatly, but oh the horrors of picking up the knife first! The trick was to pick them both up simultaneously, and make sure they were kept parallel to the table until they were above the plate.
He continued to select new utensils as various courses of the meal were served. But wait, why was that alien on the opposite side of the table staring at him? He glanced at the spoon he was carrying, but no, that was alright. A look at the arrangement of utensils below him showed the problem. He had bumped one of forks with his elbow so that it now was slanted at a slight 25 degree angle. He hastily corrected its position and then went back to eating while praying fervently that the alien would not take offense or draw his mistake to the attention of the others. Whew, he looked away. He finished the rest of his meal without incident, and was then escorted out of the building with honor.
He yearned to get in his ship and leave this place, but he felt it necessary to take all the steps he could towards ensuring the survival of the alliance. So turning around to face the group of councilors following him, he requested that he be permitted to perform the Penowolcky, otherwise known as "the right of atonement for any transgression or offenses done in the future". After having his face painted, he was doused with water and handed a rotating blade on a handle. The trunk of a Noca tree was brought to him and he was told to cut the whole thing into 6 inch thick pieces and stack them up into 5 piles in a row. Vrrrroooooorrrrrmmm went the blade and he started cutting. The wood was not that hard and he soon made it all the way through the trunk and had stacked the wood up. At last he was free to go and he took off towards the sunset, making sure that he never turned the nose of his craft away from the capital.
Sir-William: The End
Ariel.of.Narnia: O_O
Ariel.of.Narnia: So glad I don't have his job!
Sir-William: Lol
Sir-William: Yeah, a comedy
dearheart: O. M. W. I would NOT want to have those aliens as clients at my preschool. xD
Sir-Edward: Surprise surprise
sofia n nancy: Cool. Very interesting and descriptive
dearheart: Human parents are scary enough to deal with lol
Ariel.of.Narnia: And wow, I actually found that very interesting. I like all detail regarding the alien culture
Lil: This was pretty awesome
dearheart: Yes, all the little cultural quirks were fascinating!
Sir-William: Thank you
gypsevedius: *applause*
dearheart: Is this a short story or part of a longer one?
Sir-William: A short comedy that I have no intention of changing no matter what you say about it.
Lil: I liked it!
Sir-William: Thanks.
Sir-William: On to the next! (if there is a next)
gypsevedius: smiley-razz
dearheart: Ahaha, don't worry I wouldn't want to change a thing about it either!
Ariel.of.Narnia: ditto DH.
gypsevedius: smiley-razz
Sir-William: lol, thanks
Lil: I do have a writing question
Ariel.of.Narnia: Okay, Lil.
Ariel.of.Narnia: Shoot
Lil: What makes a villain interesting to you?
Sir-Edward: Me?
Lil: Any of you
Sir-Edward: A motive.
dearheart: Hmmm
Sir-William: I always feel sorry for villains
Ariel.of.Narnia: Character (eg: Loki vs. ... any other Marvel villain)
Sir-Edward: Bad guys to me shouldn't just be evil just cuz' you know....their bad
dearheart: Depends on the story, there's lots of different types of villains
Sir-Edward: Normally it's a lot more interesting if they have a reason.
Sir-William: I will do evil tomorrow! MUHAHAHAH! (cliché)
Lil: *still has a manically laughing villain who doesn't do much, (he's in the shadows mostly*
Ariel.of.Narnia: I like Rumple and Regina from OUAT because they have depth
Lil: The shadows meaning, he doesn't show up very much in the story
Lil: And I have no reason for him to do stuff
dearheart: If it's a comedy, a villain with a big personality is my favorite (like in "Megamind" or "Despicable Me")
in those types of stories, playing off clichés and twisting them into your own is what makes them awesomegypsevedius: What makes a villain interesting to me is their weakness, but I'm just random.
Lil: (and probably cause I grew up watching cartoon villains)
dearheart: if it's a serious story, a villain with humanity is what makes him compelling for me.
Lil: What do you mean?
Lil: What makes humanity?
Lil: @DH
Ariel.of.Narnia: I've read one story that had a psychopath that, for pretty well no reason, made another guy try to survive in the desert. He was interesting because he was just so... different
gypsevedius: smiley-lol
dearheart: As someone else said (can't remember who), "every villain sees themself as the hero"
gypsevedius: Ooh! That's awesome.
Sir-Edward: Ahha!
Lil: *grew up on fairy tales and cartoon stories where villains were just evil *
Ariel.of.Narnia: Well, Disney sure helped with that...
dearheart: So when I say humanity, I mean...create your villain the same way you create your heroes. With flaws, strengths, hopes and fears.
Lil: <.< *loves her Disney movies*
Lil: >.>
dearheart: The most interesting (and sometimes scariest) kinds of villains are the ones who are convinced they're doing the right thing, even though they're not.
Ariel.of.Narnia: @DH: definitely
Lil: It’s the crazy ones that scare me
Ariel.of.Narnia: And ones that seem like the types you could just meet on the street that are also scary
dearheart: Look at Hitler. no question he was evil! BUT he didn't wage genocide on the Jews just for the fun of it. He genuinely thought he was in the right.
Lil: You can't stop them (unless you're Sherlock or crazy)
Ariel.of.Narnia: the Moriarty types? Yeah...
dearheart: Being power-hungry probably had something to do with it too, but my point still stands.
Lil: Good Point, Dh
Ariel.of.Narnia: Any more stories to share?
sofia n nancy: I wish I had one.. :/
Ariel.of.Narnia: That's okay. I haven't had anything for weeks myself....
Ariel.of.Narnia: Ed?
Ariel.of.Narnia: Nia?
Ariel.of.Narnia: Gyps?
Sir-Edward: Sorry. :/
gypsevedius: Nothing here.
Ariel.of.Narnia : Well, I don't have anything to share, so...
Ariel.of.Narnia: Haha, on that note, Writers' dismissed!
Writer's Group Dismissified ~
