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Young Writers Society


Speak for Yourself



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Sun May 20, 2007 10:58 pm
JC says...



[This is just a thing to help you get to know your character a little bit. Have them introduce themselves. Tell their own history, their own story. What they like and don't like. Kind-of like a welcome thread for characters]

Hey. I'm Jamie, and I guess I'll start this...

I was born on June 13th, it was a friday. What luck?

I've always been a writer, when I was younger I wrote in diary's like they were religious, and as I got older it escalated to stories. Now I'm working on my Memoir. It doesn't have a title yet, but I'm thinking it should have something to do with the dark. Because that's when I write.

For some reason I don't like writing when it's bright out. Everything seems too revealed, the dark can keep my secrets safe for me.

When I was 17 I pushed my father over the banister on the second floor of the house I lived in. He went to the hospital. A lot has happoned since then, but I've written it all down. I hope to someday get my memoir published, but if it just has to rest on the self I feel better knowing that I've at least tried.

Jamie Dumont- Philosophy of the Dark.
But that is not the question. Why we are here, that is the question. And we are blessed in this, that we happen to know the answer. Yes, in this immense confusion one thing alone is clear. We are waiting for Godot to come. -Beckett
  





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Mon May 21, 2007 2:53 am
Nutty says...



...If you must know, I'm Tamia.

I was born in the woodlands around fourteen years ago. I lived with my mother.... She kept me away from the other kids at the village nearby. It is not safe for those with elfish blood anymore. I grew up, learning to defend myself. Then my mother was killed, just a little while ago. I have to go find my father.... Does anyone have a clue where he could be? No? *sighs* Well... that's just my luck.
Anyway, I left home... got a little lost for a while. I don't like to talk about it.

Then Elyn found me.

There.

That is my life story so far.
It's not easy having a good time. Even smiling makes my face ache.
  





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Wed May 30, 2007 11:23 am
bubblewrapped says...



My name is Amara. I dont really have a last name.

I'm nineteen, and I'm about to come of age in a big way. That's all you really need to know. As for my family, I dont really have one of those either - my mother is dead (you dont want to know how) and my sisters are either in jail or have fled the country. Father? What father? Men are to be seen and not heard, you know that.

Something is happening in Tindarin, where I live, which is about to change the face of the kingdom forever, and I'm going to be right at the heart of it.

Because that is my destiny.
Got a poem or short story you want me to critique?

There is only one success: to be able to spend your life in your own way, and not to give others absurd maddening claims upon it. (C D Morley)
  





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Wed May 30, 2007 1:00 pm
Twit says...



I'm the Raven. Well, actually I'm not, but I am if you know what I mean. No, you don't. No suprises there. The sky is blue and I'm talking of things no one understands! Yippee!

Anyway, I was born on the streets of London. Promising beginning. Actually, it was very good. I lived with my Da and my twin brother, Kester, and we drifted here and there, finding work acting in various theatres, sleeping on the streets in summer, and in youth hostels in the winter.

Then I found the pot of gold at the end of the rainbow. It was a treasure, of sorts. It became precious to me, even though it wasn't mine. I was only keeping it for someone who really needed it. It brought me great joy and great pain. The mixed cup of life. Because that was what it was - it was life of a type that I hadn't know existed before. And like the life I was used to, it was a twisted thing that I couldn't let go of. You dream about fantasy, imagine escapes into magical dreams. Let me tell you this, though. Real life may not be all it's cracked up to be, but the thing is, fantasy isn't either.

I discovered that I was part Elven. I say part, because I still don't know whether Da had Elven blood in him or not. What's a part Elf doing on the streets of London, I hear you cry? The thing is, I don't know. Da died before I found any of this out. Kester died as well. Both of them were murdered, and I was left with scars on my face and scars on my soul. It's not pretty being a half-breed. Or a hybrid freak, as they say.

I lost my family twice, lost my brother and father twice and I lost the pot of gold. Careless of me, I suppose, loosing everything I had. Blame the Dragon, not the Raven. Both are creatures of misfortune. A raven signifies death and a dragon causes the death. It's not the Raven's fault. The Dragon made all those deaths happen, him and his family. At first I served his family unwillingly, as a slave. I still serve them, even though I am free to leave. Why? I don't know. Maybe because I am still bound to that family. Maybe because I can see that you have to serve what you hate to get the good in the bad. Maybe I didn't leave when I had the chance, because even then I could tell that worlds would collide, and I would be needed.

Or maybe it is simpler than any of that.

Maybe I just learned how to forgive.


The Raven - Off The Edge Of The Rainbow.
"TV makes sense. It has logic, structure, rules, and likeable leading men. In life, we have this."


#TNT
  





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Wed May 30, 2007 1:23 pm
Myth says...



I'm Aethel. Or you can use one of my alias, depending where you're from. Anyone from the Upper Levels can forget me.

I'm 24 or something, can't remember but what does that matter? My home is the Basement Levels of the Capital, with automatons and a load of junk that needs shifting.

History? Background? I'd rather not say anything. Better to watch what I do than actually talk about it.

Anyway, inside this glass prison right now and need to find a way out.
.: ₪ :.

'...'
  





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Thu May 31, 2007 2:17 am
Shafter says...



Uhm, hi, I'm Émon. I'm not much of a talker, but since my writer's making me do this, I guess I have to say something.

I was born an Untouchable, so I had a pretty rough childhood, I guess. At least my mother loved me. Anyway, I escaped when I was seventeen, and the next thing I know, I'm caught up in this big liberation-type thing to stop the caste system in our country. But my problem is, I don't feel like I belong with them. I mean, it's the safest, easiest road for me right now, but...

Well, Traistal. He gave me a charge before I escaped, and I really feel like I've let him down. I know what I'm supposed to do. But I'm not sure I'll do it.

Anyway. Enough about me. Bye.
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Fri Jun 01, 2007 1:11 pm
tinny says...



Do I have to do this?

I'm Klar. Though most people tend to just call me Himmel, it sorta like they can be ruder to me, act like I'm not really there, if they only use my second name.

I work in the core, that's where all the systems that run New-Site are based, specifically in maintenance, although no-one ever told me what that really meant. I'm more of a runner; I go from level to level finding people to fix things. Usually I get send down. Parents were farmers so Wolke assumes I prefer the smell of earth. She never asked why I left.

I have one friend; Faye. But I guess we're pretty different. I tend to spend most of my free time in my apartment. There's a android there, his name's Guy, he's okay for conversation I guess. I did meet some other guy when I was on a run a few days ago, but I don't tend to meet many people.

All I want to do is become a mariner. Or work at the upper aquarium anyway. But in all honesty; I can't see that happening.
please grant me my small wish; (love me to the marrow of my bones)
  





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Fri Jun 01, 2007 1:39 pm
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Rydia says...



Hello. This is Rashel Lotus and I'm reporting from 'The Solar Express Mark 5.' Do not fear brave citizens of Earth, we may be your last chance but we will make it. We will find you the sun that you need! So far all is not well. The beloved Hozay has fallen to the power of the aliens but I cannot believe he is dead and you must not either. If we hold hope in our hearts then he...

Cut that out Rashel. Can't you see we're in the middle of a crisis here. I'm going to throw Joe out the window...

Well that was Hijenne Low. Please excuse her, we've just received some dreadful news... we're completely out of water. I fear this may be my last report. Do not forget us people of Earth. Every time you look up at the sky, you are with us, lamenting what is to come...

Not to worry ladies. I have everything in hand. Hey there. I'm Joe. Just Joe but by no means your average Joe. I have enough bottled water to last us our whole journey. Collected it myself from the last planet so now who's a complete fool?

Would someone shut the tourist up? We can't drink that water. Who knows where it's been? Foreign water is bad for you, everyone knows that and you don't get much more foreign than water from another planet. Isn't that right Olivia?

Indeed you are correct Mr Pailey.

________________
Just a few of the characters from Suns, Planets and a whole load of Balls.
Writing Gooder

~Previously KittyKatSparklesExplosion15~

The light shines brightest in the darkest places.
  





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Thu Jun 07, 2007 10:13 pm
Fishr says...



Born in the Fifth of August in the year of 1749, which means I am the age of twenty-one. If I had any notion of the future, part of me might had said, "I wish not to be born at all."

My fellow Bostonians are coping with one of the most difficult times one can imagine - the Townshend Acts - and not with grace and composure either! I admit, with my role within the Whig party, I have been known to be as coniving, and equeally as hot-tempered as my closest mate, Sam. Redcoats are the damned. It is as simplistic as that.

At home, the atmosphere can be most unpleasurable. You see, my Father is, or was, a militery man. I have learned a great deal under his tight thumb of authority, especially when talk switches to his time spent in the Seven Years War. My Father enlisted on his own accord to support his country but by our discussions, it is evident that his experience was regretable, depressing, and fearful - all the time, according to one journal entry - of dieing and never returning to his family. I believe the beheading might have been my Father's worst memory. It must have really shown him how curropt one person will become, and the penality of warfare.

But there are two minor details I am neglecting. Remember that my Father is British, and was in the British Army. He claims he also detests that bloody King three hundred miles away but indeed there are hints that my Father is still loyal to his country. I just assume he is too worried for my safety because of my own loyality to the Sons of Liberty to accept the underlyning of truth. Though he detests wars greatly, my Father has finally accepted that I am a Whig, and assists me when possible, and that is the issue. Though I am a native of Boston, being caught with the crime of treason will have extream measures taken on my part. For my Father... I rather not dwell on it. I can only assume that since he is born of their nation, he would be sent to Great Britain, tried and executed - away from his son, and my Mum...

As for her - Mum - she seems to actually support my whily schemes, more so than Father! Little did I know how loyal to the cause she was! Her choice has placed serious rammfications in the Garrison household. I am watching him now. Though it was NOT my fault for the deaths upon King Street, I... *gulp* I sense Father's walking stick will be in use this evening. Pray for me. Pray that I will survive unharmed.

[Samuel Garrison from Bound for Glory: Our Bretheren]
The sadness drains through me rather than skating over my skin. It travels through every cell to reach the ground. I filter it yet strangely enough, I keep what was pure and it is the dirt that leaves.
  





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Fri Jun 08, 2007 4:08 am
fueledbyjoy says...



Erin has a big jar of people she writes about. I'm really only one of those people.
I'm Caleb. I'm 21 (old enough to drink). I play soccer...or did. Gosh. It's so weird now. Everthing is changed. It's like my life is starting over. I can't really introduce myself because what i was is not who i am now.

See ya,

Caleb...or Erin...whoever
God's thunder spits fire and sends the oak trees dancing, a wild dance, whirling; the pelting rain strips their branches. We fall to our knees-we cry out, "glory".
  





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Tue Jun 12, 2007 3:12 pm
Samara says...



'Sup.

My name is Marcella Lucille Beauregard, and if you call me that, you will die an excruciating death.

It's Marc.

I'm not a people person.

I like to surf. Or I did, before my dad was killed in a fire and we moved from California to Colorado.

I'm not pretty.

I'm not smart.

I'm not special.

I'm just me.

Or at least, that's what I thought, until a couple of events in my life changed some of those things...

But that's another story.

Over and out,
~marc

(Marc, from "Touch of Fire")
"I can't stand him. His ego is splattered all over that screen and it's making me nauseous."
~Me referring to Ashton Kutcher.

"I think the dragon should eat him."
~My boyfriend referring to Eragon
  





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Tue Jun 12, 2007 8:35 pm
Fishr says...



I dun't like persons, and I dun't like you. Go! Git! Be gone!

[Garrick Soutwick from Bound for Glory: Our Brethern]

(Uh... Lovely person, ain't he? Guess he didn't feel like making the introductions - Sheesh!)

*

Daft, bloody, rotten... *sighs*

It is a job when you are responsible for keeping the ranks of men, whom are supposely trained soldiers mind you, in control in an orderly fassion. Truthfully, and this between you and I, my men are superb marksmen but... but I am what some might call a perfectionist. Missing a target twice is just uncalled for, and His Majesty, why he might have had a horrid look of shock witnessing his - my men not preforming at top notch.

Others... *smiles wickedly* Others might also try and label me as a barbarian. You see I am a man of "the country." I am loyal to it, respect it, born in it, and let me only say this once. If you forget, then I am sorry; your life is in your own hands. Fight against the Fatherland, and I will run you through on the battlefield. Fight against the Fatherland, and find your merry way into my regiment... May God have mercy on your soul. It is simple as that - pray there is mercy in your future, because prisonors are not looked kindly by me.

[Angus Brigham from Bound for Glory: Our Brethern]
The sadness drains through me rather than skating over my skin. It travels through every cell to reach the ground. I filter it yet strangely enough, I keep what was pure and it is the dirt that leaves.
  





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Tue Jun 12, 2007 11:52 pm
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Pushca says...



I'm Gwen, 26, bipolar, and prego. I'm torn between Marie and Natalie, though my authoress says I can't have Natalie in case she ends up knocked up. She also says that sex makes babies, which can't possibly be true... I mean, that would mean that my parents stood each other's company to... well, I think that babies come when you have too many pillows. Babies are a lot more like pillows than sex. In the baby:pillow analogy, it's sex:alcohol... or something...

Gee, did I leave anything out?

L.C.'s pretty much the only one who can stand me. My brother died my hair black when I was ten. My mother hates me. Woe is me, yanno?

I read too much Paul Auster. I don't wear enough clothes. I exercise too much but not enough. I dye my hair too much.

The last paragraph was important, you know. If it wasn't for those, I wouldn't be in this mess. Or the mess wouldn't be in me.

It was a pleasure.
"Nothing I could write would be as shocking and offensive as censorship itself." -Deb Caletti
  





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Wed Jun 13, 2007 1:09 am
Writersdomain says...



Hello, I'm Strick...

[after being prodded with a stick by author numerous times]

And I don't like fire and I don't like talking about myself. If you must dabble in my history, I'll tell you that I was raised by Jaistin Jiastar and that my closest friend is Markus.

I hate the speaking stones. I like wind and rain. I gave up being ambitious a long time ago, even though the author insists that I am still ambitious. She's wrong, by the way. I am not cynical. I am not bitter. No, I am not Svare. Yes, I don't like talking about myself.

I apologize for being short with you, but I'm done.

~Strick
~ WD
If you desire a review from WD, post here

"All I know, all I'm saying, is that a story finds a storyteller. Not the other way around." ~Neverwas
  





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Wed Jun 13, 2007 2:08 am
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Samara says...



Hi there! I'm Kylee. Kylee Janelle Gordon. I'm fourteen, and I live in Willow Creek, Colorado. Don't know where that is? Good. Neither do I. We're a lost city somewhere in the Rocky Mountains. I'm sure an arachaelogist will find it someday and become famous.

So, a litle background info: I was born on April 2 in South Carolina. My mom and my sister Bailey and me moved here to Willow Creek when I was around ten. It did screwed-up things to my heart - namely depression and a somewhat unhealthy fascination with witchcraft. Things changed when God showed up. But that's another part of the story.

As of right now I am a freshman trying to forge my way through public high school. It sounds easier than it actually is, especially after spending ten years or so being homeschooled or going to special prep schools for gifted kids. Needless to say, I don't completely fit in at WCHS.

But that's ok.

It's nice to meet all you other characters! Wow, you guys are all so cool! Well, anyway, I'll talk to you all later.

~Ky
"I can't stand him. His ego is splattered all over that screen and it's making me nauseous."
~Me referring to Ashton Kutcher.

"I think the dragon should eat him."
~My boyfriend referring to Eragon
  








I tell the neophyte: Write a million words–the absolute best you can write, then throw it all away and bravely turn your back on what you have written. At that point, you’re ready to begin.
— David Eddings