Young Writers Society

I've got one, but it's kind of hard to explain. We used to do this often on About.com teenwriting, but that forum's been pretty dead the last few months.

Basically the first person chooses a scene--this has ranged from a forest to an NYC bookstore. Each person chooses a character from something they're writing, and together we write a scene where all the characters meet. Some are just for fantasy characters, some are just for sci-fi, and I remember starting one just for realistic, but most are for any genre, which means elves end up running into normal high school kids.

Here's an example.

Person 1 wrote:

Here are the terms: fantasy characters only (so no aliens, please). They can be good, evil, in between, whatever you want. The setting is in a deep forest, in winter, in the middle of the night. No killing other characters, and lets try to keep it to a reasonable amount here, so a limit of 5.

Beneath the cover of the trees, a young man of perhaps 20 years sits on a log by a small firepit. His chocolate brown eyes are locked on the fire, and he pulls his black cloak even tighter about him to stave off the chill. The flames' light causes the ruby fastening his cloak to sparkle, a hint of color on his otherwise black attire. A long steel sword is fastened to his hip, and its handle is engraved with black and grey runes from some unknown language.

Suddenly, he stands and turns to the forest, scanning the trees for any disturbance. No sound was heard, but he could feel the intruder's presence. Slowly, he draws his blade.

Person 2 wrote:

"Finally a light, in all this withering dark wood." A young girl, perhaps seventeen walks out of a brush. She wore a high light pink dress that reached to just above her knees, and the rest of her legs were covered with a blend of bluish gray heavy jean-like leggings. Her arms were covered by a shawl, that was as white as snow. In her right hand was a large staff, that was as dark as midnight.

Currently the girl had been glancing down at her leggings, while wiping off the many twigs, and dead plants that were loittered all over them. It wasn't until a moment later, when she looked up at a tall black cloaked figure with its hand resting on the hilt of a blade. "Um. . . " the girl became nervous "Hello there. I'm- m -m , sorry to uhhhh- um- disturb you and - oh sorry! I apologize for my rudeness, my name's Fey and I'm sure I must've caught you at a bad time but. But if you don't mind . . ." She glanced at the warmth of the fire, and it gave her strength to finish her sentence "do you mind if I rest here, for a few moments?"

Person 1 wrote:

(Just a quick note: these Character Conversations are supposed to be written in present tense)

He studies her for a moment in silence, searching for any weapons. Just the staff, but he hardly thinks it would be able to hold up against his sword. She seems harmless enough, though, and his telepathy tells him that her intentions are good. She is amazingly hard to read, and this confuses him. Nevertheless, he puts his sword away.

"Little late for a stroll in the woods, isn't it Fey?" he asks finally, and with another look at her clothes, he adds, "And that can't be keeping you very warm." Looking back to the fire, he says, "You can warm yourself by my fire, if you wish."

Person 2 wrote:

"Thank you, so much," Fey exclaimed. She let out a sigh of relief, and noticed that her breath was visible. She sat down beside the flames and shivered. Soon the cloaked figure walked over and sat next to her. She looked at the cloaked man, for a second, and saw that he was looking back at her. Fey couldn't help but think that those deep dark brown eyes were looking right through her instead of at her. She ignored it and stared back at the flame.
I hate this, she thought. I hate this stupid forest, this stupid winter, this stupid isolation. . . Oooh, I'd give anything to be back home right now. But no! Don't think like that Fey. You know what's waiting for you there. . . *she shivered*. I just have to coax with whatever's thrown at me.

"Peh," she said aloud "take that destiny." With that, her eyes grew heavy, and as she knealt by the flames, her head dropped several times. A moment later she gave up, fighting the cold and fell sideways on to a lap. *She shivered again* Suddenly she felt a warmth, like a blanket, and to no one in particular she said "Thank you."

Etc., etc. There are usually more than two characters, though. There might be two at first but then more join. Anyone want to start one?

Eh sure, but my guys would probably eat you/start a fight more often than actually talk, eh, itll make for awsome fight scenes.

My guys an orc. I really dont have any other humans.

I'll try this. Why not.

Sponson, I think for the sake of this activity, your ork should put on a tu-tu and take some valium.

Ooh, this sounds kinda like the forum-wide story we had on another forum. Of course, I think only two people actually used characters that they were using in other stories as well... But it was still fun! I'm definitely interested. *picks characters*

OK, cool...does anybody want to start or should I?

OK, I will. Characters from any genre are allowed. (Mine's low fantasy.) Fantasy, science fiction, historical, contemporary, fanfiction, whatever. No more than two characters per person.

A beach. A tall, blond, brown-eyed boy is sitting in the sand smoking, dressed in torn jeans, a T-shirt, and a black jacket. He looks like he's probably in his late teens.

LOL... this just like roleplaying... well, at least the kind we do on my MSN group... I'll play. I assume we're just starting out by introducing our characters?

A girl of medium height is walking barefooted, dressed in a white Bohemian style skirt and a dark green sweatshirt. She has fair skin, dark hair, dark eyes, and a smattering of freckles across her nose and cheeks. She looks to be about sixteen or seventeen years old.

Does that work? Or was I supposed to do some thing else? .... *Areida's innate cluelessness kicks in*

Out to sea, a head suddenly bobs up. It is a middle-aged man. He stares around him for a few minutes taking in the beauty of the world. A poem starts to form in his mind, but he shrugs it away and starts to swim inland, towards the beach.

I guess I'll introduce my character...it's been so long since I've done this...

A girl walks along the tide, siding a cold wind emerging sharply from the ocean, cutting through worn green cashmere sweater. She is thin, average height, with eyes the colour of moss. Her hands thrust into pockets as she walks, head turned against the wind; her hair, a rusty-sienna colour, is restrained with a pin, but a few strands escape. She brings her hand to her face, and tucks them again behind her ear. Glancing up, she sees a few people on the beach, but mostly it is deserted, too cold for swimming, though, in the distance, a few white sails could be seen against the pale horizon. She holds a bottle of vodka between finger tips, only a third empty, but she does not bring it to her lips. Behind her, she can still hear the raised voices and loud music from the party.

Why not? I could do with some writing practice after nearly a month...
A young man, sits on the shore line, watching the waves brush against the sand. His clothes make him stand out against the sand; dressed in a black t-shirt, and black jeans. A small breeze blows his short-ish brown hair over his forehead, but he ignores it and continues to stare blankly out to sea.

The blond boy gets up and starts walking along the water, ankle-deep in the waves, humming a rock song. He walks past the dark-haired girl in the Bohemian skirt and nods.

"Hey."

The girl is at first surprised; she hadn't seen anyone else on the beach. A wave smacks her calf.

"Hi," she replies, then is quiet for a moment. "What're you humming?"

I'll try!!

A young girl looking around about, 15, with curly dark brown hair, and a light sprinkle of light freckles on her face, wearing a baggy pair of jeans and a white top with a picture of a rose was walking her dog, black, small, with a little white on its chest. The girl carried on walking past the girl with the vodka bottle, humming to one of the old willy wonka songs, while her dog chased after its tail, still in keep with the girl. She then walked past the young man dressed in black and carried on with her path.

He smiles, then seems to think for a moment as though he hadn't realized he was humming.

"Smoke on the Water," he says finally.

His breath smells quite faintly of alcohol, but he seems sober--slightly tipsy at most. He speaks with a very strange accent that's hard to place. It's mostly New York City, but seems to have all sorts of places mixed in, from California to Great Britain. He then carries on humming, pausing occasionally to take a drag from the cigarette.

The girl tries to place his accent, but fails. Her own accent is very generically American, but occasionally on a down vowel her words will drag, hinting at a childhood down South. She is now standing still in the water, and a slightly stronger wave comes in and splashes against her legs, wetting the bottom two inches of her skirt. The girl appears not to notice.

"Can I?" she asks, indicating toward his cigarette.

The girl's family is strictly conservative, and she has always longed to try something they would hate. She was in fact doing just that by walking barefooted in less than dressy clothes and talking to a boy she didn't know. Her parents hated smoking, and she had the oddest desire to take a deep drag of the tobacco, just to spite them.