Renethin

Here's just a little bit of the story I'm working on. I just started it a week or so ago. I don't think it will end up being very long. It's the one based on the Book of Mormon . . . :)

Chapter One

Renethin

Renethin gazed down upon the destruction which stretched below him as far as his eyes could penetrate the enshrouding mists. The battle had ended only moments ago as the last soldier had fallen, whether dead or only wounded, he knew not. The silence which followed was almost more deafening than was the uproar of bloodshed. Deep sorrow entered his heart as he painfully contemplated how many of these men, either dead or dying, had wives, children, mothers and fathers of their own, and how they would never return.

Wrenching his eyes from the desolation, Renethin flicked the reins and his faithful horse, Dulnar, obediently turned away and slowly walked over the hills on the path they both so well knew from the days of peace.

As the sun rose higher in the morning sky, the fog lessened, and Renethin was able to see clearly once again. The hills were no longer rolling, but rather looked as if a giant had simply thrown the earth casually in a heap upon the ground. The land was barren. Only the stray cluster of weeds lived here among the stones and ground trampled by the hooves of thousands of horses and the feet of thousands of men.

“Dulnar, do you remember how beautiful this once was?” Renethin said softly, his voice almost inaudible in his remorse. The white mare nodded slightly. Despite everything, Renethin smiled. Dulnar was his most loyal friend, who, though a horse, had been through almost everything with him. Suddenly the area no longer seemed so desolate, so dreary.

Inspiration

This is sort of an add-on to the post I did yesterday on ideas.

Here's another tip: let yourself be inspired. I already gave some examples in the last post, but here are some more.

Today I went to a funeral. (I didn't know the person who died, I was just asked to sing Amazing Grace.) The man who passed away has a brother who is so devastated by the death that he has almost literally stopped functioning. Sad, I know. I wished I could just shout out to them about the Plan of Salvation, but I'm not sure how well they would have taken that, being an Armenian family. But as I was saying, he was devastated until he has stopped functioning, and although that's terrible, my constant thought is, "What if there was a brother who died, and that guy's brother almost stopped wanting to live?" Wouldn't that be a cool addition to a story? How tragic!

Let me think of another example of inspiration.

I'm laughing at myself right now. :) My favorite inspiration is the Book of Mormon, to tell the truth. I mean, think about it! Captain Moroni, the Army of Helaman, Nephi moving across the seas, Mormon taking down the history of this once-great civilization, and Moroni, the last Nephite of all. Just look at those story ideas! And you can't forget Ameleckiah! Or Ammoron! ULTIMATE BAD GUYS RIGHT THERE! And Gadianton, and Kishkuman, and everything! I've let myself be inspired by these histories. And I've come up with my own story that closely follows the lines of the histories. Maybe I'll post it sometime. :)

Well, now you know how much I love the Book of Mormon . . . especially Captain Moroni and Ammon and Alma the Younger and--I'll just stop there . . . But I was talking about inspiration. So my tip right now is to let yourself be inspired by anything you see, hear, read, or do.

The Pirate Sisters-Park

Hey guys!
It's Emily Parker or Madeline Parks (pen name) here!

I love to write stories, and I have finally finished my first novel ever: The Pirate Sisters, and it is 65,000 words long, a little bit bigger than Fablehaven!

I love it, but the more I think about the cheesier I realize it is...but besides that, it was fun to write!
Here is the prologue: enjoy!

The Pirate Sisters

by Emily Parker

Prologue

The mother walked along, stumbling.

Clutched against her chest was a bundle:  her son, her only baby.  He was not a year old but all his life he had been threatened.  She had to protect him from his father.  

Her long red skirt dragged on the ground and once she almost tripped.  Luckily, the baby did not wake.  With a sigh, she pushed her light brown hair out of her eyes.  She was exhausted; late last night she had been gathering supplies for their brief journey--or escape.  

Early in the morning, she had crept in her husband’s cabin aboard his ship and took her child.  She had managed to row to the nearby island Amica, landing on the far side of the island where no one lived.  She had heard of the kind governor and his wife whom was heavy with child; surely, they would take her son in as a servant.  He would now be safe and not have to fear every time he woke up, believing that his father would beat him as he had beat her.

Fall had started, and even though it was always warm in the Caribbean, a cold breeze ruffled her hair.  She shivered in her thin crimson dress and pushed on.

But she was almost there.  

A few hours later, it was dusk, the sun setting in the Caribbean Sea.  She paused and looked across the waters.  She belonged there on a ship, seeing the world, and even her babe had taken his first steps not on land but on board a ship.  She smiled and caressed his chubby face with a bruised hand.  “It’s alright, my love.  You’re heart belongs to the sea.”

After another mile of walking on the beach, she could see the stone house.  But it was more like a mansion with it’s many polished windows, the well swept balcony, the pristine yard with all the imported and indigenous trees and cultured plants.  Servants did everything here.  She prayed the Bensens would take her son in.

In bare feet, she walked up the steps and tenderly placed the boy in front of the large door.  The sky was now a golden orange—she had to leave quickly.  Yet, how could she leave her baby?  A tear rolled down her cheek.  The baby opened his blue eyes, which mirrored her own.

“Sh, shh.  You will be okay.  I love you.”  She kissed the baby’s curly little head.  “Remember who you are, William.”  

The baby began to cry and the mother stood up.  She patted his cheek one more time, securing the note she had previously written on his blanket.  “Goodbye,” she whispered.  Voices were coming from inside the house.  She turned around and ran, disappearing into the jungle that bordered the mansion.  

She never saw him again.

If you want more, email me.  Thank you!

-Maddie

Evelynn

When I was ten or eleven, I loved fairies. Loved them. So I wrote a bit about them. This is part of it, and it's cheesy, but hey, I was eleven. I left it alone for a few years, and now I'm slowly adding to it once again with my little sister, who has now reached the "fairy stage".

Prologue

ONCE UPON A TIME, there was a kingdom. There was an enormous castle in the center of the kingdom. A small distance from the castle stood a forest. The forest was filled with many creatures, and not all were good. Some were Evil.

Our story begins in that very forest, with a young woman running. Running as fast as she can to get away from what’s chasing her. She doesn’t know what it is, but she knows it is Evil. She is carrying a bundle in her arms. There is a house up ahead. She runs faster to try and reach it. She bangs on the door loudly, but no one answers. So she sets her precious bundle down on the doorstep. Then she bends down and gives the wrapped-up baby a kiss on her forehead. This is probably the last time that baby and mother will ever be together.

RRROOOAAARRR!

She hears a tremendous roar from the forest. She must lure the monster away from her baby. So she runs in the opposite direction of the house, back into the forest. The monster follows her, and the baby is safe. But the woman is not. Her wings become visible, and she lifts off the ground. But this does her no good. The Evil is still after her.

The Evil monster reaches her. No one knows what happened to the mother of the baby.

One

GIVE IT BACK! Please?” Evelynn tried to grab her shoe, but David held it out of her reach.

“David, I don’t want to be late for school again! Give it back!” Evelynn was starting to lose her temper.

“Come and get it then. Ha!” David ran out of the room.

Evelynn sighed. Being the youngest was tough. Sometimes she wished she were the oldest, like David, or second oldest, like Jenna, or even like Sal, who was a year older then her.

She walked out of the room after David. She knew it wouldn’t be too hard to find him. After all, there weren’t many rooms in the tiny cabin. There was a living room connected to the kitchen, and three bedrooms, one for the parents, one for the girls, Jenna and Evelynn, and one for the boys, David and Sal. She figured that David had gone into his room.

Evelynn opened the door to the boys’ room. She peered inside. It didn’t look like he was in there, so she went back out and shut the door. Why did David always have to pick on her? The only time he was nice was when he was ignoring her. And that wasn’t nice, either.

Evelynn slumped against the door and sighed. She could hear the stream through the open window. The stream! Of course. David would probably dip her shoe in the stream. She raced outside behind the house. She had never liked being outside alone—the forest scared her. She had the strangest dream every now and then of being chased by a monster. In her dream, she was wrapped in blankets. Then everything would stop. She would feel something on her forehead, and then a HUGE roar. Then she would always wake up, sometimes screaming.

There was David, leaned against a tree, a smug smile on his face. He was holding her dripping shoe. He held it out to her.

“Here,” he said. “I hope you like your birthday present.” Evelynn came up to David to take her shoe back, but he tossed it to the side, into the stream. It was like a sailboat, sailing swiftly down the stream. Evelynn ran after it, but David grabbed her and wouldn’t let go until her shoe was out of sight. When he let go, Evelynn tore after her lost footwear. She caught a glimpse of it, flowing swiftly around a bend. Evelynn followed the stream. There was her shoe, caught in some rocks. She leaped forward and grabbed it, triumphant. She looked up and saw that she was inside the forest.

Panic started to overtake her. Evelynn ran alongside the stream, back the way she’d come. Panting, she reached the cabin. The only thing she didn’t like about this cabin was that it was so close to the forest. She wrenched the door open and zoomed inside. She ran into Jenna.

“Ow!” cried Evelynn as she fell to the floor.

“Are you okay?” asked Jenna. She offered Evelynn her hand and pulled her up.

“Yeah, I’m fine. Sorry.” Evelynn dusted herself off a bit.

“Why were you in such a hurry? Was there something out there?” asked Jenna. She bent down to pick up her books that had been knocked out of her hands.

“I was trying to get my shoe back. The stream led me into the forest,” Evelynn replied. She held up her soggy shoe. “David dropped it in the stream—”

“On accident!” David protested.

“You threw it! How is that an accident?” Evelynn argued.

“David, hush. Eve, you’d better hurry and get off to school. You’ll be late. Your books are by the front door, and Sal is waiting for you,” said Jenna.

“Thanks, Jenna,” said Evelynn. “Bye!”

She ran to the door and crammed her books into a bag. Then she ran outside. Sal was waiting for her, as usual.

No Ideas?

If you can't find anything to write, don't stress about it. I've made the mistake of doing this, and feeling upset that I never have ideas when I'm in a "writing mood". It doesn't help to come down hard on yourself. The best thing to do at a time like this is to open your eyes, literally. Open them up wide--just not so wide you look creepy--as you think, "I'm not going to let this bug me, I'm going to be happy anyway." When you think think this, imagine the light appearing in your eyes, and I promise that it appears. This won't help you have new story ideas, but it changes your attitude about the whole thing so that now you enjoy this moment.

Another thing you could do is let yourself be inspired by what's going on around you. For example, say there's a huge storm outside. You get this picture in your head of a girl hugging herself and walking through the forest as the rain cascades in torrents, soaking her to the bone, her dark wet hair clinging to her face. Or maybe the picture you get is a young girl with her little brother, huddled at the back of a medium-sized cave as the storm thunders outside, chilling them so that they shiver. Or maybe it's a warm thunderstorm. Maybe it's a dry thunderstorm with dangerous lightning that sparks a fire.

Those are just a few of the many things you can do to help you get back into that "writing mood". Write away!

Get Writing!

Having trouble sticking to one story, or just can't concentrate on the blank page in front of you? Try writing for ten full minutes a day. You'll find that once you get the words to start they won't want to stop.

The First Post

Hello, readers and fellow writers! Just thought I'd say a few words, just in case you think this is some terribly random blog. This is a place to post stories ideas, tidbits, and tips that you want to share, because I think most of you will agree--when you share your stories, it makes everything so much more enjoyable. 

So to the authors on here, please post! I hope everyone will end up being a part of this. Share it with friends that love to write. And to the readers . . . I hope you enjoy this!