Young Writers Society

So do I have to completely revamp the character or can you just nullify all the abilities I put? The latter would work much better I think.

Can my character have the last spot? He's male. And I actually followed the rules, so. Yeah.

Oops, sorry! I didn't re-read the first post. When will we start? When we have the last guy?

@bro: Just get rid of the abilities and age, and make her a male, as I stated RIGHT ABOVE your post! Sorry to be a bother, though! I'm trying not to sound mean, I truly don't mean to be.

And EccenticityAside, yes.

I already said that I would like to have a girl flute before you said that the rest had to be males, so should I just make a girl, or would you like me to make a boy as well?

No, you're ok.

Très bien! Merci. I'll post my profile as soon as I can.

Name: She goes by her nickname, Stephanie, because she doesn't like her real name very much

Gender: Female

Age: 16

Instrument: Flute

Appearance: I know the picture and description are a bit different, so just follow the description more.

She is petite/short/small. Small features except for her ears. Her eyes are dark blue, and her hair is long red-ish brown. She always wears her hair different, and her sense of fashion is very unique. She has no piercings except for her ears.

Personality: She is so unselfish, always kind to others. She is a very easy going, hardworking, loving Christian. Sweet, hardworking, and unique, she's hard not to love. She likes everything neat and tidy because she has Obsessive Compulsive Disorder (OCD). She is very quiet, and doesn't open up much, but at other times, like when she's with her friends, she's very bubbly and exciting. She one of those people who you don't like because they seem so perfect. Just like everyone, of course, she has her flaws.

Strengths: She is very smart despite some of her issues, and very hardworking. Once she starts something, she won't stop until she gets it. As an obvious result, she is very talented. She can work with any person even though she may not want to, and makes the best of situations. She is strong in her Christianity, and very careful of what she does. Most of the time, she thinks before acting. There's no challenge that she won't take.

Weaknesses: She is very clumsy, emotional, and often gets distraction when her OCD kicks in and she must fix the slightest little thing. A lot of times she can't understand things or it takes her a long time, and she gets frustrated when that happens. She is very contradicting to herself, and sometimes talks to herself. Sometimes she can be stubborn, and, though most of the time she does, sometimes doesn't think before acting. She has a tendency to get into trouble or in bad situations.

Likes: flowers, animals, people, God, many of things depending on her mood!

Dislikes: when people are mean to other people, selfish people, herself sometimes, making choices, many things depending on her mood!

Other: She's French, but sense she moved to America when she was very young, she doesn't speak it often.

History: Her childhood was nothing tragic or sad. She was born in France but moved to America shortly after she was born. She was a rich only child, so she always got what she wanted. She lived in a very large house. She loved to do things, no matter what it was. She took dance lessons, lessons for many different instruments, and a lot more. She had many friends, and she always made time to hang out with them, even though that meant that she was always busy. She continued with flute and ballet for many years, and finally got the letter about this university!

I really hope this is okay! Tell me if I need to fix anything! I know it's not the best, but...I'm sorry, I'm just really nervous. This is my first StoryBook! Well, my first storybook that I have to make a profile for.

This shall start at 7:00. If no one takes the last spot, we will only have 9. I will PM you if your profile is not filled out by 6:30 so you can finish it before the storybook starts. I will make the first post.

EDIT: the storybook will start at 8:00 tonight because I can't get on until then (I'm not allowed on right now)

IS IT 8 YET?

Sorry, unexpected difficulties... spazzy computer. Limited time now. Lyndaline Tripp

"Not you!" I cried as I saw the pale, dead body lying on the marble. "You were the last, George! I can't adapt to children all over again! I'll miss all you guys!" I sniffled.

"Lindie." A voice said from behind. I turned to see the King. I immediately bowed to the floor.

"My highness." I replied.

"This is a sin. You must let him pass on peacefully."He commanded. I wiped a tear from my cheek.

"I'll just miss them. What are my orders, sir?"

"Gather the best of the best to be introduced." He walked off.

"Yes, my highness." I immediately rushed to my desk, beginning to write my letter. A plan was already formulated in my mind.

Dear my wonderful student,

You are invited to take a orientation to Lyndaline Tripp's Musical University on a scholarship. I would like to speak to you about terms. This scholarship is fully covering your school expense. Food and other necessities are not included. Please come on the eighteenth of January- tomorrow.

Signed Lyndaline Tripp,
University Principle.

From there, I proceed to find the nine best of the best. Now to write my letter to them.



This storybook has officially started.

Odd, Will thought. He didn't get much mail. The occasional birthday card from the grandparents arrived once a year, but his birthday was quite a few months away. Holding the thin envelope to the light, he could faintly see what looked like cursive inked neatly onto a folded sheet through the paper.
He checked the return address. Blank.
He tucked the letter into the pocket of his jacket as the sound of a motor up ahead turned from faint rumbling to loud roaring as it came into close proximity of his driveway. Will's father was home early, a not-too-welcome change from his usual late hours.
The chauffer nodded briskly in his direction, and Will returned the nod while he quickly tried to decide if he had enough time to bolt into his room and manage to avoid his father. He knew it was too late, though. His father had already seen him.
The sleek black Mercedes sped off, leaving him face to face with his father.
"Hey, Will." He said with an over enthusiastic grin. "How are things hanging?"
"Good," Will replied politely.
"Are you excited for school? Next week, wow."
"Not really."
Enter long, awkward pause. They both stood outside the house, Will thinking of ways to escape and his father thinking desperately to grasp converesation with his son.
"I'm going to go, uh, shower now," he said, though it was much too early for a shower.
His father nodded and walked in, Will trailing after him. Relieved, he hopped upstairs and took out the envelope from his pocket, away from the watchful eyes of his father.
He took special care opening this letter, feeling as if it held some special means. Unfolding it, he noted the sharp creases and crisp whiteness of the paper, as if someone had taken care to ensure the ultimate delicateness with this letter.
Only after the second reading did Will fully absorb the message.

Dear my wonderful student,

You are invited to take a orientation to Lyndaline Tripp's Musical University on a scholarship. I would like to speak to you about terms. This scholarship is fully covering your school expense. Food and other necessities are not included. Please come on the eighteenth of January- tomorrow.

Signed Lyndaline Tripp,
University Principal.

The first thoughts through his head were, How did they know I played an instrument? The only people who knew Will's passion for trumpet were himself, the shop manager of Marion's Music where he bought his sheet music and the trumpet itself. Marion, he decided. He had played for her a few times, during the secreted lessons she gave him for free. A prodigy, she'd said. Natural talent like this shouldn't be hidden away, she'd scolded him, though he'd explained to her many times about his father.
His second thoughts were, Tomorrow. Ohgosh. How was he going to explain this to his father? Then, he realized, he didn't need to. It was a full scholarship, the solution to all of his problems. Tomorrow morning he'd gather everything he needed, a credit card to ATM a few hundred bucks, and get out of here. A note for his father would suffice, he thought, a single pang of perhaps regret stinging his chest.

Dakotah:

Holding Laila at my side, I walked down to the mail box. Her chubby hand played with the golden chain around my neck.

Grabbing the mail, I headed inside. Placing Laila on the ground with her toys and Jaques, our dog.

With a sigh a relief from standing, I sat next to Laila on the ground and handed her her fuzzy animal book. As she played with it I sorted through the mail. When I saw a letter addressed to me I was shocked. No one ever sends me letters - do people even send letters anymore?

Ripping it open I slid the paper from it's place and placed the envelope on my lap just to have Laila smile and grab it to chew on.

Taking the paper from her mouth I gave her a teething toy and said in my french accent "Let us see who this is from, oui?"

Unfolding the delicate paper I quickly read it over once, then again slowly.

"This is unbelievable!"

"What is?" My father asked, appearing in the doorway.

Looking up at him I replied "I got a full scholarship to a school for music."

Dad smiled, then sighed and looked at Laila.

Turning my attention to my daughter, I placed the letter on the ground "I guess I can't go."

After a minute of silence, Dad said "Dakotah, go to school. Laila will need a dad to support her when you guys move out. This will be good for you both. Your mother and I will take care of her."

Stroking Laila's fuzzy hair, I muttered "I don't want to leave her."

"Dakotah, it'll be fine."

"I have to leave tomorrow."

Dad was a little surprised but nodded "Okay."

Standing, I scooped up Laila and anounced "I'll start packing then."

Stephanie

My feet were cold against the sidewalk as I ran to get the mail and the paper that morning. I stood by the mailbox, going through the letter, when I noticed one had my name on it. Suddenly unaware of the cold, I opened it up. I could see my breath as I read it aloud under my breath. Then my face lit up, and I ran inside.

I tossed the paper to my father, set the mail on the counter, then ran up to my room. Unable to believe that it was true, I read the letter over and over again. "Stephanie! Venez pour le petit déjeuner!" My mother yelled. I hated it when she spoke to me in French, but not even that going to let that ruin my mood.

"Coming!" I yelled in response. Folding up the note, I ran downstairs to tell my parents the news.

"So why'd you run upstairs so quickly?" My mother asked.

"Oh nothing big. I just got something in the mail." I said, trying to act cool. I handed her the letter and waited patiently while she read it. She looked at me once she had finished, and we both smiled at the same time.

"Congratulations!" she said, giving me a hug. My father was too into the the paper to even hear what was going on. "You'd better start packing then. But eat your breakfast first." I nodded.

I hurried to my room again after I ate my breakfast. Not sure what to pack, I just grabbed a bunch of my favorite outfits. After a while, I was ready to go.

Lucy Calloway

I walked coolly into the resteraunt and over to my table. They didn't need to seat me; here I seated myself. This was my regular table, this was my regular seat. You would be crazy to try and seat me elsewhere. I liked it here, I had a good view of everything and everyone, much to their displeasure.

A waiter came up and quickly took my drink order. It didn't matter what I got. It was just a drink.

tapping my fingers on the table, I looked over at my watch and then at the door. She was late. Four minutes late exactly. It was no bother, though, because she was always late. A full ten minutes and four seconds later, the door to Cafe Rouge flew open and my panting friend walked in.

I watched her breathlessly say something to the waiter and point at me. I didn't like being pointed at. She knew that. A moment later she walked over.

"You're late." I said simply, rasing an eyebrow. It was a retorical statement. I didn't explect her to comment on it. She knew me well enough to wait until I had something to say and didn't make a sound. After a sigh, I pushed the letter over to her.

She skimmed it. I watched her eyes as they darted across the page. They widened and narrowed.

"Oh you must be so excited!" She blurted out, much too loud to be talking to just me, considering I was seated not four feet from her.

"Now tell me, Amily, who do you want to hear us? Because you clearly are not talking to just me in a voice that loud." I gave a small chuckle, but it was not acompanied with a smile.

"Sorry, Lucy, I as just excited for you." Amily bit down on her bottom lip, and looked down, not daring to meet her friend's eyes.

"It's allright. All is forgiven." I paused for a moment and took a breath as the same waiter set a Shirley Temple in front of me. As soon as the waiter left, my thoughts returned to the previous discussion, "Well I am leaving tomorow. I already have everything packed. There is nothing left to do but celebrate, yes?" I laughed and lifted my glass to clink it against Amily's.