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Modern fiction round
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Modern fiction round
Modern fiction round robin anyone?
Not futuristic, modern. It doesn't matter what genre, but it seems that there are too many Renaissance-ish stories floating around. Not to say that every story on here is Renaissance fantasy, of course.
So anyone want to participate? I don't really have any plot ideas : (
But I'd like to make it more structured-i.e. one character per person and working out an outline beforehand so it doesn't get too crazy.
And if no-one likes this I will bend to the opinion of the populace and do a Renaissance fantasy story...though unlikely lol.
Andy says yivx.
By the way, is Wolfgirl67 (or Coyotegirl, I forget) still around here?
I don't think I've seen anything from Wolfgirl for several weeks. Maybe she went offline for Lent like RD?
Admin
submitted by Amy G., age 14, Pennsylvania
(April 23, 2011 - 5:46 pm)
(April 23, 2011 - 5:46 pm)
Can I join?
(April 24, 2011 - 1:20 pm)
(April 25, 2011 - 9:01 am)
Thanks for joining!!
What's your preference for below:
Setting:
City/
Suburb/
Country
Characters:
First person with everyone same character/
Third person with every one different characters
Genre:
Fantasy/
Sci Fi/
whatever else..............
What kind of stories do you like to write, Princess P?
(April 25, 2011 - 7:48 pm)
I usually like either fiction or historical fiction. For some reason I like to write stories about tomboys that have many siblings and live on a farm, or something like that. I like making up lots of different characters. Mystery is okay, as long as it's not like a murder mystery or anything like that. Although I do find mysteries hard to write since you have to keep your plot in line or it usually doesn't work out very well. How about this:
Setting: Country
Characters: Maybe third person, but I haven't ever tried first person, and I think it would be fun. It doesn't really matter to me.
Genre: Ummm..what's a genre???
(April 25, 2011 - 8:46 pm)
First person sounds good. I find it a little harder which is all the more reason to try to write in first person-lol!
Genre means type or category of story like mystery, sci-fi, fantasy, historical fiction etc. How about a girl from a city who is sent to do farmwork in the midwest with a bunch of other kids by a juvenile court judge? Just an idea. She could find secrets about the past...magic...or anything! : )
(April 26, 2011 - 5:01 pm)
I like that idea. She should find out secrets about the past. Oh... I'll join!
^ANALESIA THE BOOKWORM^
(April 26, 2011 - 6:11 pm)
Does everyone play one character? If so I had an idea for the character! We can change her though. The genre can be fiction/fantasy with a little mystery, first person sounds good!
Name: EstelleNorbert
Age: 13 (??)
Appearance: Straight a little under the shoulder shiny blackhair, green eyes, pale skin, small (4’11)
Personality: Very outgoing and loud, gets annoyed easily andis sometimes hard to get along with…
Other: Lives in a one room apartment with her Dad who isalmost never home
(April 27, 2011 - 5:25 am)
I like it! Estelle is such a pretty name...
If nobody else likes it, or for other characters, some other pretty names are: Melody, Violetts, Kyra (had to sneak mine in there...), Karina, Nora, and Astrid.
^ANALEISA THE BOOKWORM^
(April 29, 2011 - 4:11 pm)
Can we please start?
(April 29, 2011 - 9:12 am)
Sorry guys...anyone can start ANY time they want! Sorry, I'm having a busy week and wasn't able to start.
I'm just going to leap into the story! Here goes.
_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _
I stood at the window staring down at the city. Screaming children swarmed the streets and the occasional car pushed through them with much honking. Laundry dangled from the windows of the dark, grimy buildings.
The heat was unbearable. I was wearing only a t-shirt, because I just woke up, but even so I was covered in slimy sweat. My hair, almost down to my waist now, was a tangled sweaty mess. There wasn't enough air in the room and I gasped for breath.
Alex wasn't there. Alex Norden was my father. I never called him dad, it didn't seem natural, and he, in turn, never called me by my given name, Estelle, but always "kid" or "yo". No-one, in fact knew me as Estelle, I was Ellie to them.
I sighed and turned my back to the window. The one-room tenement wasn't exactly a welcoming sight. It had only one window, a fold-out sofa and a creaky bed, a stove, rusty sink, and ancient, hulking refrigerator passed off as a kitchenette. There was an overpowering smell of bugs, dirt, and sweat, mixed with the smell from the communal toilet down the hall and a bag of empty beer bottles stashed in the corner.
I picked my way over to the sofa and grabbed my clothes. When I was done changing I looked into the refrigerator, but the only edible things inside were a jar of ancient mustard, a hunk of pizza wrapped in a piece of paper, and a can of soda. I gulped the soda and munched the pizza and, my stomach still grumbling, shoved my shoes on. I went over to the sofa and pulled out a pink notebook and pencil, one of the many books and writing materials stashed behind the sofa. Alex would burn them if he found out, but he wasn't exactly good at routing secrets out.
Shoving the notebook under my t-shirt to hide it and the pencil in my pocket I went downstairs. The building walls, an icky greenish color, seemed to peer at me and made me hunch over to hide my secret notebook. I passed Mrs. Riley, the landlord's wife, and held my breath but she was busy yelling at a little boy who lived in the alley nearby and she barely glanced at me.
Out in the searing heat I wasn't safe yet. James Riley, the landlord's balding red faced brother was walking right toward me with a purposeful expression.
____________
(April 29, 2011 - 5:59 pm)
"Where's that lowlife father of yours?" he asked me.
"Lowlife. Lowlife!" I scream. This is one too many insults from that creep. "At least he's not almost bald.
He winced. I smiled. That's the only comeback I have thought up that works every time.
Let me explain a little. Mr. Riley hates hurting people, so he sends his gorilla of a brother around to bully the rent out of us, I hate him. He hates me. Nothing much else about me and James' relationship, not counting his son. But I'll get to that later.
He slammed me against the wall. "I asked you where your father was, young lady," he says with an expression that clearly means "Don't get sassy with me."
"He's working," I explain, "at the factory."
He walks off. If only he was like his son.
Cole Riley is the most handsome boy in the world. His blond hair and tan skin would make him look like a surfer, but in reality,he's the star soccer player of the team. We've been best friends since kndergarten.
Oh, great. Here comes Lynn, a.k.a the mean girl.
(April 30, 2011 - 10:18 am)
What's a juvenile court judge? (I need to know more for the story...)
[I think a judge in a court that tries children who have broken the law. Admin]
I wanted to walk past Lynn but there's no possible way to do that. She corners you and pushes you around until you feel seriously weird and kind of queasy and then she leaves.
Lynn was walking up to me quickly. She's the same age as me but dresses a little too old for her own good. Her skirt was short and she had large heels on. Her honey brown hair was put up in a high ponytail and it bounced to and fro as she walked.
"Hey Ellie!" She said really nicely, so I knew I was done for. "How's your old, poor, nincompoop father?"
Ok, I know Andy and I are two totally different people. We kind of try to stay away from each other and he hates me for being alive. I look so much like my mom who is well... Gone. That's why he hates me. I've been trying to understand it for so long but I can't. Anyway, even though Andy and I loathe each other, he's still my dad and I'm not going to let some dimwit insult him.
"Fine, you have something on your face, see?" I pointed at the invisible "thing" on Lynn's face. She was really conscious about how she looked so I saw her face change in horror.
"Where, where?" she screeched.
"There!" I slapped her face out of annoyance and ran off before she could turn around. My notebook was still under my shirt as I walked out into the streets.
I went out into the alleyway next to our building. It smelled like garbage and worse stuff. I found my bike hidden in its usual place. Untouched, undamaged.
Andy didn't know I had a bike and I hope he never would. I had found a fifty on the kitchen table a while ago and I'd taken it. The bike had been a dump but Cole had helped me fix it. When Andy couldn't find the money, he blamed me. He yelled at me and said things I don't want to repeat. I couldn't say anything. At least now I had something of my own.
My life was filled with secrets that I kept from my dad. The notebook and bike were just a few of the million. Another one was where I was going now. My sanctuary. That's where I stayed most of the time when I was skipping school. I would write for hours about things. My notebooks were occupied by millions of stories. I loved writing, that was another secret.
I wanted to be a writer and share my stories. In my stories, I was always someone else, I could pretend that I lived differently. It was my save haven.
(May 1, 2011 - 4:10 am)
I heard Lynne yelling as I pedaled down the alley, swerving around garbage cans. I knew I'd get it later but right now I barely cared. My hair flew behind me as I gathered speed, turning around street corners recklessly. I passed blocks of abandoned buildings, their broken ghostly windows gaping and a kid spraying a wall with words in red paint. The streets were filled with junk.
A few more blocks and the gentrified areas started. Trees lined the smooth streets and nannies pushed baby carriages slowly along the sidewalk. Sleek new cars purred along the streets. A dog barked somewhere and the smell of a chicken roasting made my stomach twist and ache, but I kept going. Two more blocks now to the lakefront.
There. Beautiful rippling grey waters. Calden Lake was the pride of Rian City. Every afternoon crews of yellow jacketed men scoured the lakeside for garbage, pruned trees, clipped grass and hung up new NO SMOKING and NO LITTERING signs. This was the only place in Rian, it seemed, where everyone was welcome, no matter what neighborhood they lived in. Still, in the summer when crowds of sweating people came to swim in the icy waters and lay on the sandy beach they somehow separated themselves into groups, from those on Mansion Row to the tenement families.
I raced across the Highway intersection and got off my bike on the grass by the lake. Slowly I pushed my bike over to an enormous weeping willow tree. It had been the hideout of Cole and I ever since Miss Carla took my second grade class of RCSD (Rian City School District) #16 to the lake for a day. Miss Carla was the only teacher I ever liked. All the others eventually hated me.
My bike hidden under the tree, I took out my notebook and sighed. Then I heard someone shouting my name. A short, dark haired boy walked with a swagger over to me.
(May 4, 2011 - 5:01 pm)
Before I write, I need to know what a juvenile court judge is?!
(May 5, 2011 - 11:21 am)
Sorry, Elizabeth, I should have explained more. A juvenile court judge is what the admin said, a judge who is in a court for kids who break the law. Kids don't go to jail, but to "correction centers" or on hiking, farming, etc. programs that are meant to build skills, communication, and leadership abilities. That's all I know about it. And we don't neccesarily have to follow my idea!!
(May 5, 2011 - 4:23 pm)