My own bit of writing...

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My own bit of writing...

Postby Homeless Hublander » Sun Jan 08, 2012 9:51 pm

Well, as the title says, this is my own attempt at a book from a while back, I've been trying to work on it but unfortunately I don't ever really have the time, so I just thought - what the hey, I may as well see what people thought of it, and if it helps get me back into it, great - It was based in its own world that I was planning to explore into (ridiculous) depth, but it really depended on how it went, as to write this I had to unlock my mind, as If you knew me, I have a completely nutty side that I gradually surpressed as it tended to stop me from getting on very well while I was in school, so I had to wake it up again, but it tended to rely on a very specific way of feeling to be able to do it well and let my (now subconscious) write for me. please excuse the swearing, as I was going throuh a stage where I did that far too much, and also the character names, as tthey werent the proper ones, they were just what I used till inspiration hit me (in the face, with a hammer).
enjoy (hopefully!),
Hublander.

INTRODUCTION

Well. Hello, I guess? That’s a good way to start, right? Aww, who am I kidding, of course it is!
Now. Let’s make this clear – this was intended to be a book – unfortunately, the publisher said I’d have to source my own materials for publishing, and what with having kicked a tree when I was six and promptly been knocked cold by a conker, I’m loathe to risk further reprisals. so I have had to resort to having this book actually made out of the compressed life savings of mice – yes, mice – though I’d rather not have to explain how I source this potentially limitless supply of material, so let’s just say that one gang of squirrels is going to be eating well this Christmas!
Though it is rather cruel to leave you hanging like this, so I guess I’ll explain to you why it is limitless – Mice are scrupulous savers, but very rarely invest in good quality locks. Also, they are extreme optimists, so you can “borrow” as much as you like and they’ll just start saving again! This is especially great, as it’s meant I’ve received very few death threats/attempts (apart from one horrifying occasion involving a sack and 20 pounds of diluted faeces. Though I won’t delve any further into that particular instance.).
Now that that’s over and done with, I’ll give you a solution to the inevitable plethora of theoretical pot and sinkholes in my writing – just think of it as if a small piece of chewing gum covered in skittles was left in the sun for too long, then baked in a cake. Basically, it’s just like a book except much, much worse.
CHAPTER ONE
Steve stared, stared and stared, deeper and deeper into the brew - watching as a skin -like substance slowly congealed on the surface...
“It’s horrible, that’s what it is, cutting you out of the will at the last second like that – I hope her grave is extremely uncomfortable and 3000 years from now some archaeologists dig her up, and due to a awkward mistake say she was some form of mutated cow!”
Steve slowly phased in and out of listening while moping and moping while listening as Gingie raged away next to him, both of Gingie’s green pupils focusing in and out as white spittle flew from his lips in a cloud that slowly settled on the back of a dwarf opposite, causing a face to appear that looked somewhat like the resident God-figure of that particular region.
Finally Steve managed to have gained enough slime in his mouth for him to speak, his mouth having gone full circle from being in the process of desertification to the dripping, stinking chasm that is usually was-suddenly something caught his eye...
“I’m getting the finger from the grave...” Steve’s mouth slopped away.
“Your right, that’s exactly what it is! Gingie screamed, his ranting now having continued for so long that the resident god-figure now had his arm over the shoulder of his son.
Steve’s drowning brain welled to the surface long enough for it to casually point out;
‘He’s got it wrong you know.... then again he never had it to begin with...’
It mumbled pessimistically.
“Noo “mumbled Steve, “I’m literally getting the middle finger from the grave....”
This contradiction to Gingie’s aforementioned revelation completely threw him off his rickety tracks (which were rickety in the first place due to a mother who’d killed his father and all his siblings when she had a breakdown after years of ginger hair-related abuse and her hair -and most of her head- spontaneously combusted, setting the house and eventually the town on fire as her body rolled around like a giant badly – launched firework.).
“Yer what?” Gingie exclaimed, his eye balls nearly popping out of their bruised sockets. “What cher getting at? Wanna fight?”
Somehow Steve’s brain managed the massive feat of rising to the surface again despite the several layers of lager, beer and shots that it was buried under;
“Say no”
“No.” Steve replied, pointing groggily at the pissed skeleton slowly scraping down the window with its right index finger extended, alcohol dribbling from between its teeth, and with grave dirt still hanging off its finger.
***I feel now is a good point to try explain why there was a pissed skeleton scraping down a window outside the inn, and the reason is this – we’re not sure who felt sorry for the undead (seeing as they are generally evil minions to darkness) but something out there, be it the skeleton’s own rotting brains or a pointless but powerful charity decided that the undead had pretty rough time of it really, what with having no chance of getting a living girl, not being able to comfort eat ( or to a greater extent eat in general), or even just the basic function of thinking. But for some bizarre reason, the undead’s rotting brain can somehow still recognise alcohol and remembers how it tasted to them when they were alive- this still has its limitations however, as there is nothing worse for a skeleton at a party that there to be no drinks they recognise. However the outcasts of the undead race are in a very difficult situation. They are the ones that in life decided to go T-total. The problem is that they have absolutely nothing to do as their brain doesn’t recognise any of the alcohol, but they still try as hard in death as they did in life, living in shanty towns on the edge of the skeleton boneyards, drinking tea and coffee made from mice faeces in a hope they might recognise it.But now, back to life in appalling general! ***
As the skeleton disappeared out of sight through the foggy glass with a faint slop into the poo-filled mud outside,, two of his friends (or hopeful muggers) came and started to attempt to drag him away through the piles of poo. They quickly realised this was a bad plan, their feet sticking as they desperately tried to escape from the two massive ice hounds who’s surprisingly large brains had decided they wanted this hunk of bones to chew.
Gingie glanced at the widow for a split second before he was forced to return to the problem at hand – the very angry drunken dwarf who had finally felt the damp patch through his leather doublet. Rather conveniently, he started shouting just in time to block out the ghostly screams, crunching and eventual silence as the drunken skeleton attempted to kiss the closest of the ice hounds, before tripping and landing with his head in the slavering jaws of the first and dragging his two “friends” face down before the second, vainly attempting to get back to their feet as its massive iron-grey paws pressed down on their backs...
*** skeletons can’t drown (which is quite clear to most onlookers as they are quite blatantly already dead) and therefore have very little left to lose in this life – apart from that is, their dignity – even skeletons can feel embarrassment, though it normally takes a lot to get through to them-In this case however, what appears to them as having ice wolf poop forced through their iris and into their very eyeballs as they feel an overgrow dog chew their body piece by piece, is suitably embarrassing and horrific ***
“Yaah, ye stupide ginger cook, ye’ve ruined me doublet” was left echoing in Steve’s ears, accompanied by the frantic whimpering of Gingie as his eyes crossed and uncrossed in panic. Thus’ forcing Steve’s brain to raise itself from its stupor for a third time and for it to resolve to give up its attempt at staying low profile and try to stay afloat – for the while at least.
“Here I am, trying to watch Ice Hounds tear a couple of drunk skeletons to shreds, and then I have to stop to tell you what to do because the aggressive uneducated company you seem to like to keep, is trying-yet again- to get itself killed! Gods, you should have gone to Stansburg College like your parents told you - Go sort out this bleeding mess, before your friend becomes a red mess for the bar boy to clean up – or don’t, I couldn’t care less”
*** Stansburg College – one of the most prestigious college in the whole Realm, coming third in the vine league of Colleges***
His brain screamed at him.
By now the Drunken Dwarf had pulled his massive (and previously unnoticed) axe from his belt while Gingie desperately scrabbled backwards and fell off the bench screaming
“Leave me alone yer tiny little nutter, I never did nuthin!”
At the same time Steve’s tired and equally pissed muscles forced themselves into motion, moving at a climatically slow speed despite the distance of a foot or two between him and Gingie, just managing to gently shove him. This was done with such insufficient force that in any normal case that the laws of physics would have broken their own rules, just to cause a rare species of helmet to fall from the sky and promptly send him into cardiac arrest. As it was, when the Dwarf brought his axe up and over his shoulder in a blaze of singed oxygen particles, a strange combination of events occurred to save Gingie’s pathetic life – despite Steve’s pathetically drunken attempt to save him. First of all, Steve’s pathetically drunken attempt did in fact move Gingie roughly half a fly, so was not actually have been as pathetic as first thought – second of all the dwarf was almost equally as drunk as Steve, but more importantly he had a spontaneous fit of lazy eye which caused his aim to be thrown completely off, though as it is actually impossible for dwarves to get lazy eyes as the eyes themselves are so ridiculously stubborn that they just won’t move, so the dwarf didn’t register this phenomenon till after the axe was thrown, and he was half way home. Third of all, exactly half a mile away a tree fell over. Ok, the third one may or may not have actually done anything to save Gingie’s life.
These all conspired to cause the dwarf to drop the axe, catch it on the tip of his toe then flick it, narrowly missing Gingie and promptly shave half the hair off of the head of the monstrously large owner of the two Ice Hounds.
Then all hell broke loose.

-WARNING - this area was very much work in progress, and I handt really got my brain to get clunking away a full speed, so this really isnt in character as much as chapter one and the introduction.-WARNING-

CHAPTER TWO
“Tweetletweetletweet”
“Uhhn?”
“Tweetletweetletweet, tweettweettweetletweet”
“tweeettweettweettweetlelytweetlytweetweet”
“tweetytweet?”
“TWEET!”
“UHHH? What the....?”
“tweetweetweetweet!”
“Tweeeeeet”
The world gradually came into focus...
“tweettweettweetytweet?!”
Two creatures stood there....
“tweetTWEETweetyTWEET”
“Tw-tw-TWEET!”
They were rather strange looking creatures it thought to itself, with white tips to their.... What, exactly? Faces? Hillocks? Yorkshire dales? Wings? Ah yes, wings sounded about right......
“Tweet-tweetweetweety?”
As they bounced about, the creature noticed something grasped in the creature’s......beak? It’ll do for now it thought...
As the two creatures continued conversing, a faint pounding began in the back of its head, causing it to notice the most intolerable aching...
***The next events happened so closely together that there are still theories whether any of this is actually real, or in fact the figment of a boozy squirrel on Christmas’ alcohol fuelled dream...***
First of all one of the creatures hopping around, noticed that It was awake. Second of all, the name tag attached to the badly scratched pair of keys held in its beak moved, causing the sunlight to catch its carved wood surface and reveal the name Steve. Third of all Steve remember his name with a tremendous roar of “OY”, and the events of the last twenty four hours. Fourth of all – One of the Magpies pulled a knife.
Steve vainly tried to scrabble to his feet, slipping and sliding in the dirty mud and muddy dirt, all the while with the magpie bearing down on him at a rate of hops, the vicious blade gleaming in the Saturday morning sun. Gradually the pounding got louder, causing Steve’s migraine to ache to ache even more. The magpies closed in for the kill, leaving Steve’s life flashing before his eyes;
“Strange”
Steve’s brain thought to itself as no life flashed before Steve’s eyes.
“Oh wait your drunk”
Suddenly a foot crashed down out of nowhere, accompanied by the frenzied roaring of an extremely hung over ginger. The other Magpie, suddenly having no peer to pressure him into any act of violence promptly started running, only to be crushed by yet another foot in a yet ANOTHER sickening display of gore, especially for a creature as small as this. However in this case the foot was only constructed of bone, as Gingie was hounded down the street by a gang of campaigning T-total skeletons.


as a final note here, I'd just like to point out that this was written by a me who was going through a very stressful period and so (naturally) became extremly childish - oh, and I'm SO sorry about all the stuff about gingers in here, no offense is intended in any way, shape or form.
Come check out my (fairly) regularly udated blog - it has words and everything! Honest!
http://rstbt.blogspot.co.uk/
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Re: My own bit of writing...

Postby Jan Van Quirm » Mon Jan 09, 2012 12:17 am

I've had nights like that :lol:

I need to read it again more slowly, so I can sort out the annotations from the narrative in places and get the action a little less frenetic but there's shades of Douglas Adams in there which isn't a bad thing so first impressions have left a smile on my face even if I'm not too clear why in some instances. ;)

Back in tomorrow when I've digested it all a little more and recovered from the chocolate hangover I'm about to have :P
"Some men see things as they are and ask why. Others dream things that never were and ask why not.” George Bernard Shaw
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Re: My own bit of writing...

Postby Homeless Hublander » Mon Jan 09, 2012 7:45 am

:L cheers Jan :)
Come check out my (fairly) regularly udated blog - it has words and everything! Honest!
http://rstbt.blogspot.co.uk/
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Re: My own bit of writing...

Postby Jan Van Quirm » Wed Jan 11, 2012 4:02 pm

Better late than never... :roll:

I think you've got something there Hubs but it's needs to be paced a little more steadily? This is more personal preference so not entirely objective, but I hope constructive as I'm the sort of person who has wide-ranging tastes and likes variety in my reading certainly. This was all a little too 'at breakneck speed' for me, which is maybe fine for later on in the story, but not whilst you're starting out and needing to establish your characters and ambience? I got the humour and like I said it made me smile quite a lot but it all went by to thick and fast with lots of stuff happening all at once, some of it obviously funny but all arriving too hurriedly and off again even faster? You started out quite well in that Steve was obviously in the fugueing stage of inebriation but then the new ideas started flying in and it all got a little confused - like suddenly we have Ice Hounds and knife-wielding magpies? (in it's beak I hope? :? )

There are other things like punctuation and your footnotes device which sometimes would be more useful as narrative perhaps but those are what I call mechanics and not overly important from the story-telling PoV. A good editor can help you out there anyhoo.

The only thing wrong with the Gingie thing is that I was convinced he was a cat for most of it (still not sure why aside from he's ginger and has green pupils? should that be irises as pupils are generallyblack? These things can be worrying ;) ), so it came as a bit of a revelation that he's a cook at the end of Chap 1.
"Some men see things as they are and ask why. Others dream things that never were and ask why not.” George Bernard Shaw
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Re: My own bit of writing...

Postby Homeless Hublander » Wed Jan 11, 2012 4:21 pm

Just to start - Definitely constructive!I see where your coming from with the pacing, It does kinda just throw it at you and run, so I definitely think I'll sort that out, as the Tavern-y inn setting is really a blank canvas so I could use that to spread the founndations more. also I guess that the humour is a bit too compressed, but apart from literally spacing the humour out through the next chapter or two I'm not too sure as to how to do this - any ideas? the punctuation is very poor in some ways as I do tend to go into a franzy of typing and come back to it later - and regarding the footnotes, I've tried to use the headers and footers device in word, but it ended up taking up over half a page that way for some sections, but as you said maybe a good editor could patch it up for me ( if I did ever get round to finishing this and the getting a publishing contract :lol:). regarding Gingie my brilliant skills with Biology-related areas came into play there I see, and I'll try and rectify that, but concerning both him and Steve they really are the very basics of the personality and could go towards anything at this point - so, if you have any ideas, feel free ;D. but yes, that maybe show a tending towards a ginger green-eyed cat in the future? ;) finally, regarding the ice wolves/magpies, I really just needed something suitably large and capable of eating a couple of skeletons :D with the magpies, I tend to visualise a lot of what happens in my head before writing it down, and (assuming they have somehow develloped opposable thumbs) his just reached under his wing and wipped out a switchblade - I'm reallly not too sure why, or how it could have concealed it apart from keeping it pinned there?
well, either way, thank you very, very much for all your feedback and if you have any other thoughts or Ideas, I'm always happy to listen (or read) them :)
cheers,
Hublander.
Come check out my (fairly) regularly udated blog - it has words and everything! Honest!
http://rstbt.blogspot.co.uk/
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Re: My own bit of writing...

Postby Jan Van Quirm » Wed Jan 11, 2012 5:34 pm

It's the curse of a good imagination (or a good visualiser working on the fly :P ) YOu can see it but 'other people' (your readers) may only have the standard template to go on... :lol:

Certainly with the magpie knife-puller I sort of guessed it could be wing-held, mainly because their beaks are pretty dagger-like to start with so why bother ;) but if the reader ain't too fantasy-savvy or isn't the sort to readily have an internal movie function when they're reading it could get a little bewildering. I thought the characterisation was fine for the opening segment for Steve certainly - having him booze-fuddled carries that pretty much and does mitigate the speed in some ways, but some of the 'concept' stuff needs more care and that's where you need to go back in after the initial info dump to decide what needs a fuller description and what you can skim. A for instance of that is the whole skeleton aspect which really did gel nicely so you didn't need to get into too much detail as people know what a skeleton looks like and will get the dog with a bone aspect etc.

With the dogs (as we're in that territory) describing them as Ice Hounds is tantalising but begs all sorts of questions about the world rules (is it a George Martin 'Winter is Coming' set up maybe?) and the monstrous Innkeeper - is he human or ogre-ish. You have a dwarf and a wizard and - maybe - a cat, so there's all kinds of threads floating around with gags hanging out so, whilst having an all-action opening is good, it needs a little bit of a guidance system in there to engage people and get their attention with some ambient background to help them out a little?

In a way I was reminded a little of the start of Colour of Magic 'after the fire' and then going back in to build up the chaotic picture which might serve as a sort of road map on how to create the anticipation for the atmospheric frenzy without needing to shove it all in front of the reader in one blast? Like winding up the tension. Having Steve owlishly watching the skeletons at the window was great with that kind of spaced out feeling, but then it just kind of ran out of control, which is what was happening of course, but a book doesn't have to be all in 'real time' of course - in fact it's usually better if it isn't of course. :D

I use footnotes a lot as well and get nagged if I let them go on too much - main thing to bear in mind is that they are NOTES! :twisted: If you're writing reams to explain the footnotes then maybe you need to consider whether they're not footnotes but something you really ought to explain in the main content. One of the ways my editor gets me to do this is through dialogue quite often, but there's other ways to lay them out to make it clear they're additional info or optional detail. If you're putting them in a post then what I'd normally do (as Word isn't generally compatible with forum structure). Is to put in a double line space like this...

... so the paragraph is physically separated/broken off from the main text at least - perhaps bracketted or with asterisks as you've done - as that at least makes the break for the eye in the same way that more normal punctuation breaks up the content so it makes more sense of your narrative in that it's identified as seperate portions. This isn't a footnote of course so I've used periods (ellipsis is the proper word for it :roll: ) to show that this paragraph is connected to the other but an emphasis is being made? Little tricks like that help the reader make sense of what's happening, simply from having some white space to feed them chunks rather than slabs :ugeek:

Keep at it please - it's got a lot of charm already, just needs to have you go back in and polish it up after the initial brain spurting. :D
"Some men see things as they are and ask why. Others dream things that never were and ask why not.” George Bernard Shaw
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Re: My own bit of writing...

Postby Homeless Hublander » Wed Jan 11, 2012 6:13 pm

ah ok, thanks for all the feedback, it's getting saved into my pc right now so I can reference back to it at various points! :D I get what your saying with it all, and you've been a brilliant help.
thank you very, very much,
sincerely cheers,
Hublander. :)
Come check out my (fairly) regularly udated blog - it has words and everything! Honest!
http://rstbt.blogspot.co.uk/
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