After a month and three days I'm back, with a new project.
I'm writing a fan fiction for Twilight pretty sick right? I know.
It's a crossover between Army of T.W.O, also sick am I right? Yeah I know, not what you'd expect but I like the idea. I came up with the main character while doing the laundry, extremely random I know. But hey, that's show biz right?
So anyway, I'm currently going through the painful writing/revising process. And so far I'm spewing ridiculous crap that makes me look pretty stupid. But I have my moments and so far I have the first three chapters on draft.
Chapter one is going through the revising process while Chapter two is on hold and Chapter three is being written. As soon as I finish polishing it up and give it a name, I'm posting it here and on fanficiton.net.
Hey... here's a tip for you aspiring writers out there. Always reread your stuff. Make sure it makes sense before you give it to anyone to read. Because I didn't.
I gave my dad Chapter one of my fan fiction and lets just say, I wrote somethings that sounded pretty stupid and now I never hear the end of it. So now I'm paying the price and submitting my chapters to the painful revising process. And when you have my dad, believe me it's painfully, painfully slow.
You see, he can't sit and read my chapter all the way through one time. No, he freaking spends ten freaking minutes on one page. And when he actually get's a few pages into the chapter, he has to get up and he never comes back! It's absolutely infuriating!!! He's read the beginning of Chapter one like three freaking times and I'm sick of it. The farthest I've gotten hm to read was about four pages into it.
In any case, the other day I was shifting through some loose papers I found in my desk, I came across a few old stories I wrote that have no plot what so ever. But they sound pretty and poetic so I figured I'd post them up for no one to read.
And guess what.
I'm not going to let my dad read them. Oh, I'm bad. That's right. Who's bad?
Anyway here's the most recent one. I think it sounds pretty. Tell me.
Golden sunlight streamed through the tree, leaving scattered patches of light on the grass at my feet. My flip flops were lying a little ways away and my bare toes sank into the cool emerald grass. I was sitting in my backyard, my knees drawn up to my chest, resting against a giant oak tree.
I had a notebook open on my lap. My pen, poised and ready to write, lingered over the pale sheet of paper as I looked around for inspiration.
The last rays of the setting sun danced on the rippling surface of the pond in front of me. A bird chirped somewhere above my head and a scarlet leaf twirled through the air, spinning in circles before touching the grass.
The wind picked up, tossing my hair around my face. Something brushed my arm. I looked around. The old rope ladder was swinging in the breeze, hanging from one of the lower branches of the oak tree.
My eyes traced up the ladder and found my old tree house, perched snugly in the crook of the trunk and a branch. I stood up, leaving my notebook on the ground. The wind blew faster, tossing the ladder more urgently. Almost as if it was calling to me.
I grabbed the coarse rope and held it steady as I placed my bare foot on the smooth wooden step and hauled myself up the swaying ladder.
......
Yeah, that's all I have. Pretty gosh darn poetic you gotta admit. It paints a picture you know? It paints a painting worthy of Picasso himself right?
Maybe I'll add to it, just 'cause.
Anyway. Like it? Hate it? Comment on it.
I'm writing a fan fiction for Twilight pretty sick right? I know.
It's a crossover between Army of T.W.O, also sick am I right? Yeah I know, not what you'd expect but I like the idea. I came up with the main character while doing the laundry, extremely random I know. But hey, that's show biz right?
So anyway, I'm currently going through the painful writing/revising process. And so far I'm spewing ridiculous crap that makes me look pretty stupid. But I have my moments and so far I have the first three chapters on draft.
Chapter one is going through the revising process while Chapter two is on hold and Chapter three is being written. As soon as I finish polishing it up and give it a name, I'm posting it here and on fanficiton.net.
Hey... here's a tip for you aspiring writers out there. Always reread your stuff. Make sure it makes sense before you give it to anyone to read. Because I didn't.
I gave my dad Chapter one of my fan fiction and lets just say, I wrote somethings that sounded pretty stupid and now I never hear the end of it. So now I'm paying the price and submitting my chapters to the painful revising process. And when you have my dad, believe me it's painfully, painfully slow.
You see, he can't sit and read my chapter all the way through one time. No, he freaking spends ten freaking minutes on one page. And when he actually get's a few pages into the chapter, he has to get up and he never comes back! It's absolutely infuriating!!! He's read the beginning of Chapter one like three freaking times and I'm sick of it. The farthest I've gotten hm to read was about four pages into it.
In any case, the other day I was shifting through some loose papers I found in my desk, I came across a few old stories I wrote that have no plot what so ever. But they sound pretty and poetic so I figured I'd post them up for no one to read.
And guess what.
I'm not going to let my dad read them. Oh, I'm bad. That's right. Who's bad?
Anyway here's the most recent one. I think it sounds pretty. Tell me.
Golden sunlight streamed through the tree, leaving scattered patches of light on the grass at my feet. My flip flops were lying a little ways away and my bare toes sank into the cool emerald grass. I was sitting in my backyard, my knees drawn up to my chest, resting against a giant oak tree.
I had a notebook open on my lap. My pen, poised and ready to write, lingered over the pale sheet of paper as I looked around for inspiration.
The last rays of the setting sun danced on the rippling surface of the pond in front of me. A bird chirped somewhere above my head and a scarlet leaf twirled through the air, spinning in circles before touching the grass.
The wind picked up, tossing my hair around my face. Something brushed my arm. I looked around. The old rope ladder was swinging in the breeze, hanging from one of the lower branches of the oak tree.
My eyes traced up the ladder and found my old tree house, perched snugly in the crook of the trunk and a branch. I stood up, leaving my notebook on the ground. The wind blew faster, tossing the ladder more urgently. Almost as if it was calling to me.
I grabbed the coarse rope and held it steady as I placed my bare foot on the smooth wooden step and hauled myself up the swaying ladder.
......
Yeah, that's all I have. Pretty gosh darn poetic you gotta admit. It paints a picture you know? It paints a painting worthy of Picasso himself right?
Maybe I'll add to it, just 'cause.
Anyway. Like it? Hate it? Comment on it.
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