Check out this awesome post by one of our very own Write On! teens. She talks about how Write On! was a big part of her year and what it's done for her as a writer.
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Friday, December 30, 2011
Tuesday, December 20, 2011
Critiques, comments, and feedback!
We've had some awesome comments going on around our eleven Are You Hooked? entries. Thank you to everyone who's given honest, helpful feedback to our brave writers!
Just a reminder not to take any of the feedback personally. Critiques are to help us grow as writers, and have nothing to do with us as people. You all know this already, but sometimes it's good to hear it again, since honest critiques can leave you feeling pretty deflated.
Now go take what you've received and fly with it! We believe in you.
Until next time!
Just a reminder not to take any of the feedback personally. Critiques are to help us grow as writers, and have nothing to do with us as people. You all know this already, but sometimes it's good to hear it again, since honest critiques can leave you feeling pretty deflated.
Now go take what you've received and fly with it! We believe in you.
Until next time!
Saturday, December 17, 2011
Are You Hooked? -- Entry #11
TITLE: Blink
GENRE: YA speculative fiction
Cold potatoes sitting in a pool of butter. Echo pushed her plate away; she never had an appetite when her parents were fighting.
“Fifty dollars!” That was her father’s voice, coarse and angry. “You didn’t ask.”
Celeste was crying. “Ace, I—”
“FIFTY DOLLARS!” Something shattered in the living room. “You are never to touch my money unless I tell you to buy something.”
“I’m sick of it, Ace!” Celeste’s voice rose shakily. “I can’t even buy a stick of gum without your permission! We are husband and wife—”
“And the money’s mine!” Ace roared.
“So I’m not allowed to buy a dress that I—?” A slap, and Celeste cried out.
“I’m the head of this house.” Something that sounded disturbingly like a body hit the wall. “If you don’t listen to me, I will make you!”
Echo lunged across the table and grabbed little Coraly off the stack of books that served as a high chair.
“Look at me, Coraly,” Echo crooned, aware of the tremble in her voice. “Look at Auntie Echo! That’s my Sweet Pea.”
But Coraly wasn’t listening. Her eyes were large and frightened. “Gamp angry?” she asked, voice soft and tentative.
There was another crash from the living room and Celeste yelled, “Go away! Just get out of here!”
Echo squeezed Coraly tight and whispered, “It’s a game, sweetness. It's only a game.”
GENRE: YA speculative fiction
Cold potatoes sitting in a pool of butter. Echo pushed her plate away; she never had an appetite when her parents were fighting.
“Fifty dollars!” That was her father’s voice, coarse and angry. “You didn’t ask.”
Celeste was crying. “Ace, I—”
“FIFTY DOLLARS!” Something shattered in the living room. “You are never to touch my money unless I tell you to buy something.”
“I’m sick of it, Ace!” Celeste’s voice rose shakily. “I can’t even buy a stick of gum without your permission! We are husband and wife—”
“And the money’s mine!” Ace roared.
“So I’m not allowed to buy a dress that I—?” A slap, and Celeste cried out.
“I’m the head of this house.” Something that sounded disturbingly like a body hit the wall. “If you don’t listen to me, I will make you!”
Echo lunged across the table and grabbed little Coraly off the stack of books that served as a high chair.
“Look at me, Coraly,” Echo crooned, aware of the tremble in her voice. “Look at Auntie Echo! That’s my Sweet Pea.”
But Coraly wasn’t listening. Her eyes were large and frightened. “Gamp angry?” she asked, voice soft and tentative.
There was another crash from the living room and Celeste yelled, “Go away! Just get out of here!”
Echo squeezed Coraly tight and whispered, “It’s a game, sweetness. It's only a game.”
Are You Hooked? Entry #10
TITLE: COLLIDE
GENRE: YA Paranormal romance
P R O L O G U E
The rain falls fast, impacting against the metal of the playground with a ricocheting ping. Loud and echoing, it reminds me of bullet casings hitting the ground, like they do in the films my brothers watch. Just as unforgiving; just as final.
There was a time in my life when rain meant nothing much to me. A time where the speed with which it bounced off the ground would not have captured my attention. That was before he came into my life. He took everything I knew, and ripped it up. The way I see the world, my perception of everything, it's all changed. He taught me to see the world through his eyes, and through his eyes, rain fell like bullet casings.
Everything has a violent edge with him. There's always a hint of danger, a gleam of fear. Even the most passionate moments we've shared - our most intense kisses - had an edge of anger to them. Finally, I understand where that comes from. I understand why, in the same moment that he gathers me tenderly in his arms, he’ll be gazing at me with hell in his eyes.
It's all in his mind. It's inside of him. Half of him loves me, completely and utterly. The other half, the side merged with danger and anger, hates me. Despises, loathes and is repulsed by me. By us. By the love we share. The side that torments him.
I stalk him with my eyes, as he does me, from across the empty field.
Are You Hooked? Entry #9
TITLE: Suckered In
GENRE: I'm not quite sure... YA, maybe?
I first met Thomas O’Rourke at the Maidstone Country Club.
I was on the Club’s golf course, about to tee off on the thirteenth hole when he approached by himself, carting around a heavy golf bag. Not being the type of country club to admit any old person off the street, I dismissed him as a simple caddy. I positioned my golf club next to the small white ball, and was about to strike when the caddy spoke.
‘Excuse me, dear sir, you wouldn’t happen to have the time, would you?’ the caddy asked me in a quaint Irish accent.
My own caddy answered for me. ‘Quarter past three,’ he said gruffly. ‘Now move along, go find your golfer.’
‘I am a golfer,’ Thomas O’Rourke replied. ‘I’m here to play golf.’ To me, he asked, ‘do you mind if I play this hole with you?’
My caddy began to tell the man to get lost, Lord Charles Hensley didn’t share the green with a common man, but I interrupted with a raise of my hand. ‘Settle down, Jethro, the man only wants to play golf! Besides, it’s a lovely day! You can’t blame a man for wanting to play golf on such a fine Saturday afternoon, can you?’
Of course, if I had known then who Thomas O’Rourke was, I would have demanded Jethro throttle him right there on the field.
‘No, sir,’ Jethro said humbly. He moved aside for the man to join me.
‘I’m Thomas O’Rourke,’ the man said, thrusting out his hand. I took it and he shook energetically.
Are You Hooked? Entry #8
TITLE: POINT BLANK
GENRE: YA Futuristic Thriller
The Phoenix is watching. As the walls of the virtual simulation room flicker around its flames, the legendary bird stares me down with its scarlet, ruthless eyes, as if it knows what I have planned.
Quickly, before its image can fade away, I get out my pistol from my pocket and fire, again and again, taking revenge for all those years I spent alone because of it, for all those people that died in the fire it caused. The beast shrieks and takes flight, but despite this reaction, doesn’t seem at all harmed by my flurry of bullets.
I pause, and then continue to shoot at it, aiming at its head this time. The flames that make up the phoenix’s feathers bristle for a moment, crackling like a hungry forest fire before quieting down like nothing happened. The phoenix’s fire somehow absorbs the bullets, just like it absorbed all the heat and energy from the bomb, the grenade, and the rocket that I’d used against it in previous simulations.
The gun had been my last resort.
There’s got to be a way to kill it. I try to remember the list of weapons in one of the books about primitive warfare that I’d read before entering this simulation. After mentally going through that list, I decide on one of the weapons.
I then do what my weapons-instructor told me never to do in the midst of combat.
I drop my gun, and wait with my hand outstretched beside me.
Are You Hooked? Entry #7
TITLE: Defiance
GENRE: YA Fantasy
Birds are free. Birds go where they want, when they want. Why can't I?
Lexa wished she could stop, unpack her wings, and fly with the flock cruising above her party. Riding north––on a raining horse, of all things––was a miserable alternative.
"Lexa Warbler, you've been chosen as the honored new bride of the recently widowed Thane Jacom, heir to the Isovian throne."
Honored. The perfect word to keep her from arguing with the flock leader's ultimatum. She wouldn't anyway. The leader's word was more than law. It was the way of life. You don't oppose life.
A stab at her side pulled a yelp from Lexa; she instinctively squeezed her legs, forgetting she sat on a horse. It took a moment before she regained control; she shot Palonsy, her nest mother and only companion from Moa, a look.
Palonsy wielded a small branch like a sword, her black eyes gleaming. "We're almost to the human's capital. Why do you fantasize when you should be straightening yourself up?"
Lexa longed to watch the birds more, but she kept her gaze on Palonsy.
"Should you poke me? I hear humans care for some people more than others. When we arrive, we mayn't be on equal footing, you and I."
"Oh, please. I don't care who you're marrying." Palonsy rolled her eyes and stretched, mussing Lexa's hair. "I will always be your nest mother, chick. Where we are is a technicality."
Are You Hooked? Entry #6
TITLE: Bound In Blood
GENRE: YA Urban Fantasy
-Miles-
Across the street, blinking red letters glowed in the fogged up window: Open. From my spot on the steps of a building, I had a clear view inside. The long glossy bar and the empty leather stools positioned in front of it; the bartender standing behind the bar, with thick, tattooed arms folded and the man he was glaring at.
I lit another cigarette and waited. Out of all the late-nighters, the man had been there the longest, sitting at a table in the back. I’d lost count of how many refills he’d ordered, how many hours he sat there, frozen, with a tumbler of amber liquor in front of him. I only knew that it was long enough for my legs to grow stiff, for rain to come and go, and for the evening sun to fall out of the sky.
Now, the street was dark. The street lamps lining the sidewalks were either broken or flicked at intervals, leaving the sidewalks shadowed except for a circle of golden light that spilled out of the bar window.
“Last one,” the bartender reminded the man, his voice a deep bass that reverberated through the window and into the still night. My hand brushed over the knife sheath strapped to my hip. I wouldn’t kill the bartender, not if I didn’t have to. It was more of an instinct, like my body recognized the warning and tensed for a fight. But at this point, if I had to choose, I’d probably kill the man. He was just in the way.
GENRE: YA Urban Fantasy
-Miles-
Across the street, blinking red letters glowed in the fogged up window: Open. From my spot on the steps of a building, I had a clear view inside. The long glossy bar and the empty leather stools positioned in front of it; the bartender standing behind the bar, with thick, tattooed arms folded and the man he was glaring at.
I lit another cigarette and waited. Out of all the late-nighters, the man had been there the longest, sitting at a table in the back. I’d lost count of how many refills he’d ordered, how many hours he sat there, frozen, with a tumbler of amber liquor in front of him. I only knew that it was long enough for my legs to grow stiff, for rain to come and go, and for the evening sun to fall out of the sky.
Now, the street was dark. The street lamps lining the sidewalks were either broken or flicked at intervals, leaving the sidewalks shadowed except for a circle of golden light that spilled out of the bar window.
“Last one,” the bartender reminded the man, his voice a deep bass that reverberated through the window and into the still night. My hand brushed over the knife sheath strapped to my hip. I wouldn’t kill the bartender, not if I didn’t have to. It was more of an instinct, like my body recognized the warning and tensed for a fight. But at this point, if I had to choose, I’d probably kill the man. He was just in the way.
Are You Hooked? Entry #5
TITLE: A Cursed Performance
GENRE: Horror
Prologue
Janik walked down the hallway, looking to the left and right anxiously. In her hands was a sword of pure gold. Her footsteps echoed loudly as she tried to creep through the darkened corridor.
Why did this have to happen? She thought. All I tried to do was write a play, better than I have ever written before. And, in addition, I just happened to unleash a demon! I never wanted this to happen!
Her thoughts went back to the happiness that she had felt the night she had finished. She had finally been able to write something she was proud of. She never imagined that the deal she had made in order to do so would unleash a demon. Her guilt grew as she thought about that fateful night, the night before the performance. They had just been finishing up the final dress rehearsal when HE came. SKARTRIST, the Soul Stealer, the demon she had unleashed upon the world. He killed everyone, all of the cast members … All except her.
Her quaking hands tightened their grip on the golden sword. It was the only thing that would kill a demon, if it was weak enough. If they were too powerful, it would only wound them. Janik hoped that SKARTRIST wasn’t too strong. Otherwise, she would have to use her OTHER plan. The one that was risky, but might have to be done.
Suddenly, creaking sounds and footsteps were heard as Janik's breathing became more erratic.
GENRE: Horror
Prologue
Janik walked down the hallway, looking to the left and right anxiously. In her hands was a sword of pure gold. Her footsteps echoed loudly as she tried to creep through the darkened corridor.
Why did this have to happen? She thought. All I tried to do was write a play, better than I have ever written before. And, in addition, I just happened to unleash a demon! I never wanted this to happen!
Her thoughts went back to the happiness that she had felt the night she had finished. She had finally been able to write something she was proud of. She never imagined that the deal she had made in order to do so would unleash a demon. Her guilt grew as she thought about that fateful night, the night before the performance. They had just been finishing up the final dress rehearsal when HE came. SKARTRIST, the Soul Stealer, the demon she had unleashed upon the world. He killed everyone, all of the cast members … All except her.
Her quaking hands tightened their grip on the golden sword. It was the only thing that would kill a demon, if it was weak enough. If they were too powerful, it would only wound them. Janik hoped that SKARTRIST wasn’t too strong. Otherwise, she would have to use her OTHER plan. The one that was risky, but might have to be done.
Suddenly, creaking sounds and footsteps were heard as Janik's breathing became more erratic.
Are You Hooked? Entry #4
TITLE: Spider Silk
GENRE: High Fantasy (mostly; think Narnia -- Earth kid goes to another world)
I slouched in my chair and stared at the puckered white line on the back of my hand. The clock ticked. Rustling pages chased each other across the therapist’s desk. Every so often, a pen squeaked against Dr. Rush’s lined yellow notebook.
We looked up at the same time; the doctor’s glasses reflected my eyes, and his greying eyebrows arched above the frames.
I dropped my gaze to the stack of paper on the desk. A hundred forty-two pages of memories no one believed.
“Well,” Dr. Rush said.
I didn’t say anything, which happened at a lot of my therapy sessions.
“Well.” Dr. Rush leaned his seat back and propped his feet up on the desk. His bony ankles peeked out from his old-man shoes. He pursed his lips. “It’s done then."
I half-shrugged a shoulder. “Five years… Don’t know what more I can do with it.”
“Ah, yes.” The old-man shoes bobbed up and down on the desk, ruffling the top sheets on the pile. “Today is the anniversary. Five years since…”
“Since that,” I said through gritted teeth, nodding at the stack of paper.
“Right,” said Dr. Rush. “Not your kidnapping. Your disappearance into another world. The ‘Toppling Kingdom’. And David, I’m not being condescending. If you believe this…” He gestured at the papers. “I’ll believe too. However, this account did leave me with some questions.” He smiled thinly. “Do you mind?”
“Of course not,” I said under my breath. “You’re a shrink. I expect it by now.”
GENRE: High Fantasy (mostly; think Narnia -- Earth kid goes to another world)
I slouched in my chair and stared at the puckered white line on the back of my hand. The clock ticked. Rustling pages chased each other across the therapist’s desk. Every so often, a pen squeaked against Dr. Rush’s lined yellow notebook.
We looked up at the same time; the doctor’s glasses reflected my eyes, and his greying eyebrows arched above the frames.
I dropped my gaze to the stack of paper on the desk. A hundred forty-two pages of memories no one believed.
“Well,” Dr. Rush said.
I didn’t say anything, which happened at a lot of my therapy sessions.
“Well.” Dr. Rush leaned his seat back and propped his feet up on the desk. His bony ankles peeked out from his old-man shoes. He pursed his lips. “It’s done then."
I half-shrugged a shoulder. “Five years… Don’t know what more I can do with it.”
“Ah, yes.” The old-man shoes bobbed up and down on the desk, ruffling the top sheets on the pile. “Today is the anniversary. Five years since…”
“Since that,” I said through gritted teeth, nodding at the stack of paper.
“Right,” said Dr. Rush. “Not your kidnapping. Your disappearance into another world. The ‘Toppling Kingdom’. And David, I’m not being condescending. If you believe this…” He gestured at the papers. “I’ll believe too. However, this account did leave me with some questions.” He smiled thinly. “Do you mind?”
“Of course not,” I said under my breath. “You’re a shrink. I expect it by now.”
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