The Advanced Writer's Club

[climbing{the}world]

How - for anyone participating this April - is Camp NaNo going, guys? I am 1,800 behind, but I wrote 7,000 words today, so I can totally write 4,000 tomorrow. I also just won a CS writing contest! Actually, I got third place, but it feels just as spectacular! If you guys love writing, find CS writing contests. I have entered one, but I think I am going to enter more.... please, all of you guys, do the same! <3

[princess pudding]

I'm sorry, ♏ist8ken, I didn't see you were a part of the club. You're accepted.

[eden .]

congrats on placing in the contest, beginning ^^
I didn't realize that there was a nanowrimo thing going on in april, but I guess it's just as well I didn't join. I have too much studying to do and I'm distracted enough as it is v.v''

[a_bowtie]

I didn't even see that I was accepted .A.

Coolio. Question for you fellow writers~
Have you ever had an idea for a story, and you come up with all the ideas and stuff for the plot and such
Yet, as you start to write it, your muse for this "amazing story" vanishes, just sitting as meaningless words on paper from then on?

I swear, I hate my language arts teacher for putting stuff in my brain that makes me creative sometimes.

[anchor QUITTING]

hey, do you guys think you could critique something for me? it's an excerpt from the first chapter c: the book's title will be love letters

dear girl,

hello. i am writing to you because i need an answer to a question. it's important, really, important enough for you to read this letter. do you believe in love at first sight? because i think it may be happening to me.

i saw you at phil's on saturday. you know, the old grocery store on the corner of west street? i call it phil's because that's the manager's name, and it makes more sense to me. you had your backpack on. school ended over three hours ago, but it was there, staring me down. you got pills and a box of something else. i'm not sure what, because you really hid it quite well. i would have checked, but you were leaving, so i left too. i just hope it isn't anything bad, love.

i took a picture of you while at phil's. you looked beautiful, so i printed it and enclosed it in the envelope. i hope you love it, darling. i've noticed that you're insecure sometimes. don't be, i love you. which remind me, please leave your window open tonight, or at least a door. i need to see your beautiful face before i go to sleep.

yours, liam xx

Kat dropped the letter from her grasp, shocked. It was official then — she had a stalker. Weeks ago, she'd received her first letter from Liam, in his messy cursive. When she told her family, they laughed it off, the police said it was a letter from a secret admirer. But what secret admirer would follow her out of thee grocery store? He'd never taken pictures before.

Please leave your window open tonight. The words flashed through Kat's mind, and she couldn't help but open her mouth in shock. He watched her sleep? This was getting serious; she had to tell the police, tell someone. With shaking hands, Kat grabbed the letter and picture, shoving them into her pocket. She couldn't even look at her backpack anymore, not after that letter.

Something shoved forcefully past her, and Kat slammed her elbow into the wall painfully. "Stay out of my way, loser!" someone called, and she watched, rubbing her arm, as her older sister raced to a car parked in front of the house. Before the door had ever shut, Tracy and her boyfriend were gone.

Kat turned, shaking her head, only to come face to face with her mom. "Where'd she go? Oh, when I get my hands on — Katie? Honey, what's wrong?" Her mom was the only person she let call her Katie, because she hated it. Coming from her mother, though, it was sweet. Kat's mom pulled her daughter to her chest, hugging her tight. "Tell me what's wrong. Don't cry anymore." The woman couldn't stand it when anybody cried, and it made Kat smile slightly.

"I'm not crying," she argued, but there was an unmistakable wetness sliding down her cheeks. Her mom raised an eyebrow. "Okay, maybe a little. Can we go inside though? I'm freezing."

Kat threw her bag into a corner as soon as she entered the house, kicking it for good measure. Her mother entered as Kat unloaded her coat and the mail, remembering to grab the letter and picture from her pocket. "Listen, Mom," she said as she sat down on the couch. "You know those 'secret admirer' letters I've been getting?"

"Ooh! From Liam?"

Kat sighed. "I got another one. He took a picture of me, Mom! He wants me to leave a window open so he can watch me sleep."

Her mother snatched the paper from Kat's hands, scanning the letter and frowning when her eyes neared the bottom. From behind it, she pulled out the photograph, looking at it with an odd, mixed expression of horror and joy. "Are those," Kat's mom began, "Are those condoms you're buying in this picture?"

Kat's face turned scarlet to match her nails. "Mom! This is serious."

Her mother sighed, pressing the letters back into her daughter's hand. "I'll lock the door and all the windows. I promise. But for the time being… maybe you should write hime back. There's a return address, isn't there?"

Kat gasped. "Mom, he's stalking me! I can't just… write him back!"

"Sweetie, I have tests to grade. Figure it out." Kat scowled as her mother let the room, tossing the letter to the floor. She wouldn't write back to the Stalker – she refused to call him Liam – whatever it took. It would be a big mistake, Kat predicted, and she was very good at predicting things.

[Small Child]

Looks like I've changed my username!
Old username: Black Feather
New username: Macabre Midnight.
Club Number:

34

[anchor QUITTING]

Looks like I've changed my username!
Old username: anchor
New username: bistro
Club Number: 9

[Rolly-chan]

I didn't even see that I was accepted .A.

Coolio. Question for you fellow writers~
Have you ever had an idea for a story, and you come up with all the ideas and stuff for the plot and such
Yet, as you start to write it, your muse for this "amazing story" vanishes, just sitting as meaningless words on paper from then on?

I swear, I hate my language arts teacher for putting stuff in my brain that makes me creative sometimes.

Well, not every story you might find cool is the right story for you. And then there's this balance between planning and letting yourself be surprised (though you should always plan at least a little before writing).
I once had this fantasy creature story idea about an evil presence slowly overtaking the fairy world and a fairy squad moving out to fight back the evil.
(I even drew some pictures for that story)
But while I'd probably love to read such a story (at least such a manga, I guess), it's not the right kind of story for me, so I've never written it.
But there might be many many different causes why you lost your muse. From the lack of conflict that matters to you, over boring or the wrong kinds of (or flat) characters, down to that constantly nagging inner editor you need to find a way to make shut up.
Sometimes you're just stuck at a certain point and need to find out how to go on from there.
It really depends.
And I've found that if it's a story about themes that matter to me and the plot and characters appeal to me, even if I lose muse for it, I can always regain it.

So, yeah, been there, done that, so to speak. xD

[dragonsapphic]

Username: TheDarkCynder
Nickname: TDC
Writing Preferences: Novelist, occasional roleplayer.
Example: http://tinyurl.com/d5lk2jv (This is a completely unrevised portion of an in-progress novel I am working on.)
Links to stories / roleplays: I don't have anything finished that I'd like to share, besides the small excerpt I used for my example.
Other:

[princess pudding]

I’ll update the list in just a moment.



I didn't even see that I was accepted .A.

Coolio. Question for you fellow writers~
Have you ever had an idea for a story, and you come up with all the ideas and stuff for the plot and such
Yet, as you start to write it, your muse for this "amazing story" vanishes, just sitting as meaningless words on paper from then on?

I swear, I hate my language arts teacher for putting stuff in my brain that makes me creative sometimes.


I have this problem a lot. When I’m on vacation or away from my computer, I start generating all these amazing ideas, but once I actually have the time of day to write, I lose any interest and give up. It’s a huge flaw I’m trying to avoid, though I’m sure most writers come across this problem at some point.
I usually write my ideas down so that I won’t forget them, and wait for any muse to return.

@bistro The story really drew me in, but I’d like to see more dynamic between characters. Her mother would most likely be a bit more concerned about a stalker watching her daughter sleep, or her purchased item at the store. cx That’s my advice, but I can’t say you’ll agree. Anyways, I’d love to see more, and how the stalker comes into ties with the main character.


Okay. I had this idea to write a mini-novel obtaining shorts and little one-shots of all of my characters [most of them being from old roleplays] as children living in a small town. It's pointless, bittersweet and quite rustic in setting. However, I've already had so much fun writing and I'd like to share what I have so far. I'm looking for feedback, critique, or anything else.


> > > > > Tony liked to think it might stop raining if he concentrated hard enough on a sunny day. He did this by sitting cross-legged in the living room, his own personal den, and chanting an old nursery rhyme loud enough to stir the whole neighborhood. Small, dingy fingers reached out and did swirls through patches of messy chestnut hair, causing the baby fluff behind his ears to bristle up in protest. Rain continued to thunder down, but he sang louder, faster: “Rain, rain, go away. Come back another day.” Unfortunately, this was the only line he knew—from there the song was a haze, thanks to a lack of confidence or confinement in kindergarten. He repeated the line, adding his own gimmicks and cues when he thought necessary. His vocal cords produced a drab, lazy tone, but when Muffins, the family cat, entered the room she took a long stride towards him and listened intently, her tail making strikes in the air. Tony grinned and continued to sing. He didn’t stop until his voice gave out and Muffins retreated to the kitchen to fester upon her milk bowl. Despite the boy’s efforts, it continued raining.
> > > > He figured Pip had been wrong about the song, after all. She was always making people happier than they should be, but even a honey-sweet remark like hers couldn’t stop the clouds from crying as hard as they were. The time was spring, and spring shed tears to help the flowers reach up to comfort them. That’s what Mum told him, and Dad proclaimed her an ‘intelligent, lively’ women. He thought she was pretty dang intelligent, too, and about as alive as a beating heart, so she must be right. He would give it one more shot before bed, just in case.
> > > > > > “Are you done yet?” The owner of the voice was standing amongst hallway shadows.
> > > > > >“Sho’ am. Did you like my singing?” Tony stood up and puffed his chest out.
> > > > > >“A goat could sing better ‘n you. What was the point ‘n all that, anyways?”
> > > > > >“I’m trying to make it stop raining. Pip said—”
> > > A lanky, pale boy padded towards him, arms crossed. His hair was dark and slicked back, and he had brilliant green eyes as lush as the backyard grass. An amused smirk lined his nearly-blue lips, but each step held a threatening dance.
> > > > He stopped Tony short of an explanation. “Pip’s just a dumb little girl. The weather doesn’t listen to anyone, especially not some broken verse of a kindergarten song. Mum told me to tell you to stop singin' and wash up for dinner.”