Young Writers Society

Tagfest!

A tidy list of (almost) everyone who has competed/helped out in the past for purposes of "Hey It's Round Three!" Notifications.

@Alvarin @Ashnirai @Auxiira @Blues @bluewaterlily @catcha01 @CesareBorgia @ChildOfNowhere @ChiravianSkies @CorruptedRoseJen @Deanie @EllaBliss @EnderFlash @Falconer @Fortis @GreenTulip @Hadj @Iggy @JKHatt @Hattable @kayfortnight @Kosmos @Laure @Lavvie @lostthought @megsug @Messenger @Noelle @OliveDreams @PiesAreSquared @Pompadour @Pretzelstick @ReisePiecey @RurouniOfLife @ScarlettFire @Soulkana @SpiritedWolfe @SushiSashimi333 @TheCrimsonLady @TimmyJake @TriSARAHtops @Tuesday @Tortwag @willachilles @WritingWolf @Zarhail @Nikayla @Lareine @Holysocks @AstralHunter @Apricity


I haven't accommodated for all name changes just yet. If you want me to remove you from my list of possibly-interested-persons let me know.

Not sure if I'm interested or not yet, but thought I'd let you know that JKHatt and I are the same person -- made an alt account to save the username when I wasn't sure if I'd go back to it or not >> :b

@Hattable
I thought so! I got really confused because I remembered the change but both accounts were still active so I tagged both just in case XD

Short Story Anthology Ideas!

These are basic concepts, feel free to adapt them to your own purposes.

The Alien: Each story is told from the perspective of an Alien watching the peculiarities of life on earth. Also; god, entity, insect, any kind of unnoticed entity.

The Door: A child finds a locked door and goes to various people asking what's behind it. Each person tells a different story. Also; the key that unlocks something, the disk with no label, e.c.t

The House: Same as above. There is a haunted house and everybody has a different story about the person who lives there and how they got there.

The Necklace: A necklace has been handed in to lost and found, and an advert put out to find its owner. In order to claim it, each person must explain how they came to own it, lose it, or a memory of having it. Also; rings, watches, any potentially personal object.

The Pathological Liar: The same narrator, telling a lot of different stories of their supposed eventful life.

The Mistletoe: Stories of people who end up kissing under the mistletoe. Doesn't have to be romantic kissing; parent kissing a child's head, infant kissing a bear, e.c.t.

The Box of Peculiar Cases: a box in the police station full of peculiar cases. These don't have to be crimes, just a list of reports people have filed about unusual events, e.g expensive items turning up but no theft reports , a missing person report on somebody who wasn't missing (or had turned invisible.)

The Mutants: Stories of crazy antics people get up to upon discovering that they have superpowers.

The Ice-Cream Shop: the most popular shop in town, each story includes a mention of it, or takes place near it or in posession of it's ice-creams. Also; the flower shop, coffee shop, park wall.

The Alleyway: every time a new person walks down the alleyway they get teleported to a new world. Also; basement, merry-go-round, e.c.t

The Changing Book: based on proverbs and words of wisdom, the book changes its story depending on who is reading in order to give them the advice they want to hear.

Poetry Anthology Ideas

Running themes: Choose a different part of the same topic each week and base a poem on that; colours, letters, emotions, e.c.t

Phrases: Write a poem each week with the title of a common phrase or colloquialism; time flies, two birds with one stone, do unto others, e.c.t

Historical events: Working chronologically, base a poem each week on a different historical period; creating fire, discovering new land, major epidemics, e.c.t

Life events: Poems that are themed around a particular time in life; comming of age, raising children, the perspectives of an infant, e.c.t

Professions: A poem each week from the perspective of a different professional; police officer, accountant, miner, e.c.t

Fanfiction: Write about events in popular books or films- voltemorts time in the orphanage, Link playing music into the wind, e.c.t

Household objects: Tell the stories of random objects around your house through poetry; the kettle that came from grandma, how the tablecloth got its stain, e.c.t

It's that time of the week again!

If you haven't got your first week's submission done it's time to get typing! Don't forget to post a link to your work in the Week One Submissions Thread. If you're having any issues shoot me a PM and I'll see what I can do.

@Audy @Casanova @Childofnowhere @DigitalSqueak @EnderFlash @Eternity @Fortis @Gringoamericano @jumpingsheep @JosephHazel2 @hexglass @Marmalade @megsug @Messenger @Moonwatcher @Morrigan @Nieeblur @Nikayla @RippleGylf @Snazzy @SpiritedWolfe @Tenyo

Week Two Tag Fest!

Since Review day is tomorrow (which means we can't post in the literary forums), anybody who would post there can drop their work into This Thread for now.

@Ashnirai @ChildOfNowhere @DigitalSqueak @EnderFlash @Falconer @Fortis @jumpingsheep @Holysocks @Lumi @Nikayla @OliveDreams @Omnom @RippleGylf @Snazzy @Soulkana @SpiritedWolfe @TriSARAHtops

(It's late and I'm really tired and have not the energy to proofread. Hope you guys like it!)


Round Up! Week I.
The contestants and their sages wait at the starting line. Where before the skies had been clear and the mornings crisp, now storm clouds rolled in along the horizon.
'It's Seth,' the guards mutter between themselves.
'Who?'
A third guard whacks the second over the head, making a loud, clanging sound. 'Not who, what. Tropical storm Seth. Should pass overhead in a few days.'
A few days... Omnom looks up into the sky, knowing better than others that no storm, especially not this one, should be underestimated.
Nearby Holysocks sits on the floor, quietly meditating whilst premonitions of the future drifted slowly through her mind. The clouds are stirring. The earth is stirring. A small herd of rabbits run past in front of her, breaking her concentration for only a moment. Something is wrong- so wrong. Almost like the clouds themselves are swallowing her thoughts. A voice sounds as loud as if someone was speaking right beside her. 'You kill me,' it says, 'you kill yourself.'
Trumpet sounds break her from her vision, and the contestants hurtle across the starting line.

Niteowl strides across and out onto the first part of her journey, but for only a few steps before turning to look back and up at the gathering clouds. It would do no harm to detour and search for something that would keep her dry. An hour, maybe two, it would take, to go to the market. There is a week to the finish line. It could work.
Fortis heads straight for the concrete road that leads to the city, closely followed by Featherstone. The narrow streets will make the journey longer, but it will keep them sheltered from the storm and Fortis has seen many times before what happens to those who stay out in the open. Together they disappear into the vast network of narrow alleyways, squeezing through the gaps, with their tall, moss covered walls threatening to close in and swallow them.
They pause for a moment and turn to each other to confer; yes, it does stink of wet dog down here. Featherstone sniffs at the air, and almost in response, the air sniffs back. Run.
Werewolf howls reverberate from the walls, deafening them from all sides. They run, maybe in the right direction, maybe in circles, who knows. They run until a door flings open and the two crash into each other and tumble to the ground.
'In here, quick!'
They gasp for breath. Snazzy stares at them. It's not long before they're informed that the werewolves are out in hundreds, scouring the city for Warriors, Rogues and Bards alike.
'Then how do we get out?'
Snazzy takes a deep breath and silently leads them down further into the basement, to a room that locks itself tight behind them. The room is empty, save for a bookcase. Carefully they open it, to where a narrow tunnel leads into a narrow darkness.

Miles down the road TriSARAHtops pulls into a garage. Near the edge Lumi sits on his backpack, thumb out. The smell of oil and blasting music is making his head throb by the time TriSARAHtops arrives, and she climbs out to fill up on gas while Jumpingsheep fiddles with the radio. So far the journey has been a composition of arguments about which way to go and when to stop and why can't you just pee behind a bush or something and oh come on you can't really enjoy this song.
With a few cautious glances and a nod of the head Lumi starts loading his backpack into the already-stuffed car boot. How bad could it be?
'Turn it down,' someone yells.
'Aw come on, you don't need it that loud!'
Jumpingsheep continues to turn the volume dial, whilst their companions and onlookers turn to scowl... until the onlookers slowly realise what that meaningful stare is, and the words on the radio drown out their thoughts.
Armies heading from the east... city in riots... earthquakes out in the northern mountains...
Jumpingsheep turns the dial down again slowly, and the others start to load themselves into the car. The silence breaks like a china plate.
'I guess we'll stick to the open roads...' someone says. They nod in a tentative agreement and the car engine grumbles into action.

Further out to the coast, ChildOfNowhere steps proudly onto the boat that has been preparing for weeks. No storm will stop her, no rain clouds could deter her. Her boat had braved many a storm before and nothing would stop her now.
'All aboard? Ready! And...'
'No.'
She turns to where a stranger stands near the front of a boat, a captains hat atop his head. He too looks well prepared, and she finds herself and her companions surrounded by a crew she doesn't recognise. As they sail onward towards their destination she looks up at the sky, where comets fly in the waning sunlight. She watches them late into nightfall, until she's the only one left on deck save the evening watch. A cold wind brushes past her, and a voice, so close, whispers; 'as suppliants fall to their knees so I fell, as comet dust flares in your gaze so I burned.'
She turns around swiftly, but nobody is nearby.

Chiravianskies wakes the next morning, still tipsy from the night before. There's no way of getting through a journey like this without a healthy dose of alcohol. All they have to do now is... they fumble around the walls, but there's no light switch. The only light is a faint glow from around the edges of the door, but no door handle.
'Are you still drunk?,' a voice says in the dark. Lareine climbs to her feet.
'We're locked in,' a third voice said, vaguely recognisable as Haredrier.
Chiravianskies settles down again. Maybe drinking wasn't such a good idea. The hours pass, maybe even days. Hunger and thirst settle in. What are the chances. They discuss between themselves. Three contestants kidnapped? Maybe.
Eventually they hear a racket outside, of doors being smashed open and guards in their heavy armour suits being thrown about like dolls. They back away from the door as the loud banging sounds move closer and closer until eventually their door is torn open by a huge woman with short hair and a crazed look in her eyes. A set of iron cuffs still hang around her wrists with the broken chain rattling as she went.
'We're busting out of this joint!' She cheers and runs away, smashing open the next few doors.
They make it outside, where Olivedreams stands, staring at the chaos in the streets. The prison break was barely a glimmer in the chaos that had broken out. Up above the sky was a sickly shade of grey.
'Move and I'll shoot.' They turn to one of the guards, holding a gun up at Haredrier.
'Try me.'
They flinch as the trigger pulls, and the bullet flies through the air. It hits Haredrier straight in the forehead, only to crumble flat against his skin. The guard startles and turns to aim at the other two instead.
'Run!' It didn't matter who said it, the three agree that it's the best idea they have.

Out in the suburbs SpiritedWolfe makes their way slowly through the streets, shifting appearance depending on who was nearby. When werewolves cross their path, then werewolf it is. When humans surround them, then human it is. It doesn't matter either way, as long as they find a way out into the open again, away from the city calamity.
That is until they see a familiar face running towards them- or past them? SirLight pounds through the streets, exchanging only a single look.
'Not that way!'
'Why not that-'
They both turn as a building comes crashing down behind them. A new series of screams diverts their attention and they run again into a current of people. SpiritedWolfe looks back briefly, only to catch the gruesome sight of a hoard of zombies, swarming through the streets and tearing apart anyone who stumbled in their flight.

Meanwhile, out on a smoother path, BlueAfrica makes a slow, easy stroll. A storm never did anybody any harm, of this she was certain. The flowers would still bloom, the trees would still grow, and she would still trek along with a walking-stick in hand. Her years of wisdom had taught her a valuable lesson: everything is scary until it's over.
A strange figure catches her eye. She looks down into a field, where DigitalSqueak walks, all too confidently, towards a huge hole in the landscape.
But that's not...
She watches and takes a seat on the roadside. Slowly a sense of bemusement fills her, as the boy disappears into the hole, unaware of why the air was so warm, or where the strange, damp breeze came from.
'Hi,' TheSilverFox says absently as they sit down beside her and drop a heavy backpack onto the ground. They start to unpack, and within a few minutes have a tent set up and a map laid out, with a route carefully marked. They converse together about their routes, planned or unplanned, and rumours passed around about what was happening in other parts of the country.
That is until the hill- or rather, the Hillturtle, sucks in a deep breath. The huge green mound shifts slightly and its eyes open wide, before it lets out a cough so loud the sound echoes across the plains, and a startled DigitalSqueak is hurtled out of it's mouth. A few more pairs of blinking eyes open before the scenery settles itself down and back to sleep again.
That night the three set a fire, and rest peacefully.

Falconer wakes in the early morning. The dark, yellowish light from the sky seeps through the forest canopy, barely illuminating it. The branches rustle, and she waits to feel the wind but none comes.
'Hey, wake-'
'I'm awake!' Ashrinai says, all too enthusiastically. Their face the unusually pale quality that comes from a sleepless night, and their eyes were wide with a caffeine induced high.
'Are you-'
'Want some coffee? I've got lot's of coffee. What is that?'
They both turn to a noise nearby. There's something strange about their surroundings. The trees are a little too still, and the rustles a little too loud. Something in the darkness was just a little bit too dark, like figures, shifting.

After making an early start Enderflash finally settles for a rest on the roadside not far from a place where someone had pitched up a tent. There was something odd about the landscape... as if the hills themselves were breathing. She settles, just for a rest. Just a slight rest... until a ferocious and sweetly familiar sound wakes her from her nap and sends ripples through the grass around her.
A ship- a flying ship. She blinks up at it. That's the one that was settled near the starting line. Scarlettfire would be inside it.
The nearby tent ruffles too and three people jump out to grab it before the wind lifts it out of the ground. DigitalSqueak waves, and the four prepare to finish the last leg of the journey.

At the fortitude where the flag waves in the sky, a blink of sunlight finally makes it through the clouds. Ventomology stands near the entrance, with Amelie, Apricity and Hexglass, singing songs and making music, with a small choir of sirens and a peculiar smell of seawater. More contestants pour through the doors, and with each one the songs grow more solemn. As they share there stories there is no choice but to accept an awful truth.

Something has gone terribly, terribly wrong.

Time falls away fast, and night swallows everything.

Suddenly there is a stirring at the door. The sojourners stand to their feet, expecting another to stumble into their midst. Instead as the guards open the door a bright light floods in. A child stands at the door, skin glowing; a creature with liquid gold eyes.
'Blow me a kiss from mercury,' she says, 'a breath hot enough to burn me to ashes.'
She looks up at the sky and splinters of rain start to fall.

The storm finally breaks.

First comes the wind, the steady breeze that has been slowly building up suddenly unleashes itself. Hillturtles curl back into their homes. The drum sounds again. Boom. Boom. Boom. Three who were traversing the seaward cliffs when the wind took them.
Then comes the rain, lashing in layers across the mountains and hammering down on the roads until the driest dirt paths start to sink. Boom. Boom. Two more who were out on the plains when they turned to swamps and swallowed their victims.
Then comes the lightening. A towering tree nearby flashes blue for a second, then bursts into flames. Electricity crackles through the sky and thunder roars across the earth. It moves towards the coast. From the horizon comes a series of flashes and the sea for miles out whips up and crashes down in waves of flickering electricity. Boom.
Then comes the darkness, and the isolation that the rain and wind brings, until it feels like the fortitude is the only thing left in existence. Beyond its walls is a world where only shadow and shade exist, a world that is yearning, in want of candles, in want of illumination, in want of light. The roads become perilous, and the beasts of the shadows take their feast. Boom. Boom.
Boom.

Inside they take comfort in the fireflies that hover across the grass, their gentle glow, wavering. BisquitsLeQuin sits in the corner, cradling a small brown rabbit that now seems so much more precious. Nikayla and Ripplegylf sit together with their quills and notebooks, filling them with solemn choruses.

When morning breaks the land is torn by choruses of storms and the cities swallowed by black ghosts. Boom.

Despite their efforts, the land has chosen to claim them before they had even begun. Audy. Casanova. Eternity. Gringoamericano. JosephHazel2. Megsug. Messenger. Moonwatcher. Morrigan. Nieeblur. The first to fall.

Week III Pep-talk!

Congrats to those who made it off the starting line! Now let's talk first chapters.

The first chapter is always pretty good. It's the opening. The big bang! The thing that catches your reader- hook, line, and sinker. And then it's over, the energy fades and suddenly you're holding yourself to the same standard as you did before. It's nice to have a good opening, but try not to get too attached. Over the process of writing your novel you're going to think of twelve other ways to rewrite it, and what seems amazing now will later seem quite redundant. Worse than that, once the excitement dies down it's easy to feel discouraged and struggle to hold yourself to the same level of energy as you did before. This is a long road, and it will exhaust you to stay hyped all the time.

Remember that if your first chapter is awful, it doesn't matter- which is a nice comfort. More importantly though, if your first chapter is amazing, it doesn't matter. Eventually you're going to rewrite it. You won't always feel the same enthusiasm; some weeks will be hard and some will be solemn and some will be contentedly quiet, and each one has it's own value because at that point you'll see your story from a new perspective.

The darkest chapters now will in ten weeks time suddenly become crucial, and the brightest will eventually dull in their shine. Leave some things unexplored, allow yourself a few dangling threads, drop a few Easter eggs so that when you next pass this way you'll have something to smile at. You're going to come back to this road and walk it over many times, and each time it will look different.

Acknowledge the things you see and the things you don't. Appreciate it; regardless of whether the words fit together or not, they're your words. That makes them precious. Treasure it, put love and and heart and sentiment into it.

Then move on and don't look back. There are so many awesome things ahead, so value each chapter for what it is. Acknowledge it, appreciate it, treasure it, and then move on.

This journey is going to be amazing.

Week Three Tag Fest! Calling All Warriors/Bards/Rogues. This is your weekly reminder~

@Apricity @Ashnirai @ChiravianSkies @DigitalSqueak @EnderFlash @Falconer @Featherstone9086 @fortis @jumpingsheep @hexglass @Holysocks @Lareine @Lumi @Nikayla @OliveDreams @Omnom @ScarlettFire @Sirlight @Snazzy @Soulkana @SpiritedWolfe @Tenyo @TriSARAHtops

Week IV Pep Talk!

And so passes another week of flying by the seats of our pants. Only that sounds really stiff, so we’ll call it pant-seat-flying from now on.

As week four dawns (or as Monday ends, or whatever is happening happens in your corner of the world), let us all take a moment to breathe deeply and pat ourselves on the back. You can also give yourself a round of applause, shout out loud, jump for joy, or hug yourself really tight, though people may give you odd looks, especially if you’re in public.

But seriously, you made it, and that’s pretty cool. You’ve gotten your feet on the pedals and your car in gear, and while we’re not lounging around in self-driving cars for this trip, you have a solid grasp on where you might turn next. Maybe you even have some pit stops or a far-off destination in mind.

The next step is getting there. You will probably get bored (cue the asking of ‘are we there yet?’) and tired and have way too many long nights, and when you find yourself in the flat cornfields of Kansas, you will wonder if that pre-planned kiss on the beach or the magnificent shootout in space will ever come. You will spend weeks, months, or (dare I suggest it) years in a series of ups and downs, and for long periods of time, you may think your writing quality has fallen drastically.

But here’s the secret: no matter what happens in an individual week, on the whole, you’re getting better. From the first word you poured onto the page back in week one to the word you got in at midnight on March fifth, you have improved, and you will continue to improve, no matter how awful the going gets at times.

So turn up the music (or don’t, if you write in silence), and keep on trucking.

Tagfest!

Did anyone else feel that cold breeze on the back of their neck? *Ominous music and cut scene to shadow fiends watching for stragglers.*

@Apricity @Ashnirai @ChildOfNowhere @ChiravianSkies @DigitalSqueak @EnderFlash @Falconer @Fortis @jumpingsheep @hexglass @Holysocks @Nikayla @regismare @RippleGylf @Sirlight @Snazzy @Soulkana @SpiritedWolfe @Steggy @Tenyo @TheSilverFox @TheStormAroundMe @Ventomology

Week V Pep Talk

Four weeks, everyone! We've made it nearly a month and written, each of us, a minimum of 4,000 words on our projects. Sometimes it's been hard, other times we've been 'in the zone' with words pouring out of us onto the paper. Sometimes we've gotten it in just a few hours before the deadline, other times we make it in the first day we can.

But of all it's hardships and obstacles, it's an accomplishment. You may be a beginning writer or one of many years, but either way, you're improving. The stories are amazing and creative and increasingly well-written.

My motto is determination + persistence = anything, and it does! We can do this, guys! We've made it this far- let's not stop now!

Tag List

Week VII Pep Talk - Keeping Interest

I see you all there.

A few with heads propped against their drooping weapons of ’enthusiasm’.

Others sinking into the sticky mud on the battlefield of ’plot’.

One or two dazed individuals skulking down ’dead end alley’

Some have even been distracted by a shiny orb floating serenely in the air called ’New Novel Idea’ Ooooooooooo! Pretty, shiny, new orb!

EYES OFF, SOLDIER! PICK UP YOUR FEET, WHIP YOUR COMPASS OUT & WEAPONS AT THE READY!


Plan of action;

1. Write an Outline & Synopsis
Already written one? DO IT AGAIN.
Reaffirm where you’re going with this, what the whole point is and why you loved the idea in the first place. It gives you a chance to tweak a few battle plans here and there also.

2. Ruin Your Protagonist’s Life
I feel the best way to make writing more fun for you…make it more miserable for them! Throw at them all that you’ve got. Don’t make it easy for your lead role! They are the protagonist for a reason. We are meant to see all sides to them. The good, the bad & the darn right cruel. I want to see how they're going to get themselves out of a few tricky situations…

3. Switch it Up
Setting. Characters. Point of view. Keep it fresh for you when writing as much as keep it fresh for us when reading! Sometimes switching to something new for a while can pick the story AND the author up when bogged down in that mud. Changing the point of view is one of my favourite devices to use.

4. Spruce Up That Subplot
Have something going on underneath the surface to surprise us all with at the precise, opportune moment! BANG!

5. Question & Answer Session
Get into the nitty gritty of your main characters. Know them inside out, upside down and back to front. This will make it far harder to leave them in the dust when you’ve spent so much time getting to know them.
There are few character questionnaires floating about on the internet. Here is an example;
The Ultimate Character Questionnaire

6. Meddle With The Supporting Cast
There is nothing like a great supporting character. And there’s nothing like meddling with a supporting character to keep your interest alive. Love ‘em, laugh at ‘em…………kill ‘em. You know how it goes.
More information on Secondary Characters here - Creating the Perfect Secondary Character

But most of all. FIGHT THROUGH IT. Do not give up. I don't want to see any of you reach up and grab that shiny, new idea orb! Get your filthy paws off.

Stick with it.
Keep going.
You’ll be SO proud of yourselves when you punch in that final full stop.

Olive <3