Sunday, October 3
Tell Us A Story
Right, how fucked am I?
I've had a fortnight to prepare one A4 side of a story for Creative Writing.
A whole freaking fortnight!
Well, that's a good reminder of how bloody lazy I am. But luck is on my side, I've found an idea. Its a bit thin on the ground for now, but this is where YOU can help ME for once.
I put up what I've been arsed to put down so far, you give me feedback in whatever forum I will read it in. Mine, preferably.
Its a fantasy setting (Wizards and trolls as opposed to breasts, jelly and vibrating cucumbers), and the protagonist is a wizards son, sent away from home to study under a better wizard. Do read on...
"The thing about magic", my father had told me, "is that nobody understands quite how it works. There's obviously more to it than just waving your arms around and saying a few funny words. It’s just that we don’t know what. Bear that in mind before you start your magical training."
I grimaced slightly at this recollection, and opened the large and heavy book in front of me. It was a plain and simple book, bound in what I assumed was red leather (although, in all fairness, tomes of magic can be made of anything these days), and had the words "Ye Booke of Magikal Lore" engraved on the front. This was the last thing my father had given me before I went away, and while it was priceless, irreplaceable, and heavy with the ancient knowledge of sorcery from generations long past, it wasn’t exactly going to buy me a good ham sandwich.
Which was, I felt, more important to sating my grumbling stomach, than being able to make sparks appear at the click of a finger.
Scolding myself...
That's all I've got so far. He's going to do some reading from the book next. It fills about a third of a side of A4 right now.
Well, critique away then!
I've had a fortnight to prepare one A4 side of a story for Creative Writing.
A whole freaking fortnight!
Well, that's a good reminder of how bloody lazy I am. But luck is on my side, I've found an idea. Its a bit thin on the ground for now, but this is where YOU can help ME for once.
I put up what I've been arsed to put down so far, you give me feedback in whatever forum I will read it in. Mine, preferably.
Its a fantasy setting (Wizards and trolls as opposed to breasts, jelly and vibrating cucumbers), and the protagonist is a wizards son, sent away from home to study under a better wizard. Do read on...
"The thing about magic", my father had told me, "is that nobody understands quite how it works. There's obviously more to it than just waving your arms around and saying a few funny words. It’s just that we don’t know what. Bear that in mind before you start your magical training."
I grimaced slightly at this recollection, and opened the large and heavy book in front of me. It was a plain and simple book, bound in what I assumed was red leather (although, in all fairness, tomes of magic can be made of anything these days), and had the words "Ye Booke of Magikal Lore" engraved on the front. This was the last thing my father had given me before I went away, and while it was priceless, irreplaceable, and heavy with the ancient knowledge of sorcery from generations long past, it wasn’t exactly going to buy me a good ham sandwich.
Which was, I felt, more important to sating my grumbling stomach, than being able to make sparks appear at the click of a finger.
Scolding myself...
That's all I've got so far. He's going to do some reading from the book next. It fills about a third of a side of A4 right now.
Well, critique away then!
