Truelove

Announcement...

I'm not really sure if this is something I'm allowed to post here, but I'll give it a try anyway, since it does have to do with writing...

I recently decided to not work on my Trinity story anymore, at least not for a while. I realized I was writing darker than usual, and I think that scared me. Plus, I was getting ideas for another story that's been in the back of my mind lately. The story has no name yet, but I've already created a seperate LJ account for it. The LJ is mysticmoonblade. All posts with my ideas/characters/world building stuff will be friendslocked, so please comment to the first entry/the most recent entry you can see if you do not already somehow have it added and tell me:

-What community you're from.
-Why you want to be added, other than the obvious reasons.
-Your name, something about yourself and your writing?
-The link to any LJ's you use for your own writing/world building/whatever.

The story- maybe series, not sure yet- is a fantasy story. I tend to not finish my stories for whatever reasons, so it would be nice to have some more people to help motivate me into writing this thing- writing more than five chapters- and finishing it.

Thanks!

~Danielle
Moonblade

New story- Legend of the T'gra Enchantress-story from the Chronicles of the Mystics

Title: The Legend of the T’gra Enchantress- a short story from the Chronicles of the Mystics.

Summary: A wandering storyteller tells one more story to two young children from a village he has visited. The story he tells is the Legend of the T’gra Enchantress…R&R!

Authors note: I am writing this because, first off, I think it’s a great idea. Secondly, it is going to be connected with the new story I am going to work on- the story about Mystic Moonblade- and I thought it would be cool to write a short story that would ultimately be connected to Moonblade. It will also keep my loyal and new readers occupied while I work on Moonblade, so please READ AND REVIEW! All characters, ideas, and places are original and my ideas. I have to make a note about Reyna, though. For those who’ve read anything else I’ve written, I’m horrible with evil characters…She is supposed to be evil, but basically this is the extent of me knowing how to make her evil. She may not come off as evil, but I’m not great with evil characters, so keep that in mind and REVIEW! Also, there is ONE thing that doesn’t belong to me, which is the spell- my friend wrote it for me, because I hated the one I wrote. So I’m giving credit where it’s due.

The Legend of the T'gra Enchantress- a short story from the Chronicles of the MysticsCollapse )

Alright, there it is. So, what do you think? Be nice...This is the first time I've tried writing anything like this...something that I made short on purpose!
Moonblade

Having some doubts

Alrighty. I need some opinions on some things.

As some of you may have seen, I've already posted the first chapter to the story I am thinking of no longer writing, so you can go to my first entry and read it there.

I write fantasy stories, and first off..I never seem to finish them. I can't get past five to seven chapters without getting a new idea, bored, stuck, whatever. This is the case with my current story. Basically, I would like a couple of people to read the story I'm working on (only have the first chapter up) and tell me if they think it's worth continuing. Unfortunately since I'm new, you won't know if it's really my "style" of writing unless you look at my other stories which can be found at http://www.fictionpress.com/~Jedidanny , so hopefully you'll still be able to help me a bit. The story is called The Trinity Chronicles: Dark Falling. It's supposed to be the first in a series, and is about three sorcerer brothers. The youngest of the three starts using dark magic, and basically their...physical items- a sword, a staff, and a couple of crystals, have to be hidden because he's a dark magic user. The first chapter of this story starts out with them young, in their 20's-late teens, and it's supposed to eventually lead up to the point where the youngest brother becomes known as the Dark Brother and...it goes from there.

It's basically from the perspective of males- it's not in first person, but in third, but the main characters are males, and since I'm female, it's a little harder to write like this. It's also kind of...darker than what I usually write, and my stories usually have a female be the main character. So...I'm thinking of calling it quits. I didn't have many ideas for the story anyway, so it's not a huge loss.

Another question I have is...I already found the community characterclinic which is great, but the process is probably going to be slow...I was just wondering if anyone knows of an LJ community dedicated to...Basically writing prompts, but character/world building specific for the fantasy genre. I know this probably doesn't exist...If I weren't already trying to deal with the amount of communities I've joined, PLUS my own that I created on my main account, I'd say I want to create one, but...I don't know. If there isn't already one in existance, maybe someone could start one? I'd be interested in helping out, but not being in charge 100%. I mean, I found some character sheets and world building questions that are great, but most of the questions are just...way too hard to answer, especially for world building, because it's the first time I'm trying to build a world.

Maybe I'm just babbling, but maybe not. Anyway...I'm going to use this account mysticmoonblade to develop my character and her world further...Post questions, ideas, whatever, and obviously friendslock the entries, so if anyone has any suggestions for a place where I can find a bunch of questions for characters, or...Heack, if you have the time to come up with questions, feel free to post a comment in my LJ/as a reply to this with them. Anything that'll help will gladly be appreciated...

I hate this feeling I have about my Trinity story because it's another story down the drain...But what choice do I have?

I'm not really sure if I'm allowed to post something like this here, so if that is the case, it can be deleted. Just looking for some input on...Well, basically writers block, in a way. :|
Robot affection

Hey guys...

I was in the process of shopping around for a literary agent to move some of my stories. Anybody got any advice, I've only had a few short stories published in a local(knoxville) magazine.

I've found a few places online which seem pretty cool, but was curious if anyone's had an actual experience.
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yourstruley

The Monster Love Pattern

ladies and gentlemen, writers and writerettes, in a megalamaniacal and probably poorly spelled spark of something or other, i've decided to launch an online magazine (The Monster Love Pattern-- shooting for march). if anyone has any stories they'd like to see in said magazine, respond to this post, and i'll have more info soon.
young

The Panda Thief

by Khem Myrick (Copyright 1998)

Once upon a time, in 1997, in the far away land of Myroke, there lived a race of magical pandas known as enchandas. One particular enchanda named Erwin Vil, was selling stereotypes, a special type of glasses he invented. The people who looked through the glasses would see light in bright colors, but nothing clearly.

One day, Erwin saw some enchanda cubs playing propaganda, the enchanda variation of tag. Suddenly, one ran smack into Erwin.

"Oh, excuse me!" said Erwin, "My name is Erwin, what is yours?"

"It was my fault really", said the cub, "and my name is Caricature, but you can call me Cari. What are those you are carrying? "

"These?" said Erwin, "these are stereotypes. I am selling them, do you want to buy one?"

"Sure!" replied Cari, She took money out of her pocket, paid for the stereotypes, and immediately put them on. No sooner than they were covering her eyes did Erwin attack her, beat her unconscious then took all her money and the stereotypes she had just bought.

Soon the news of the enchanda thief spread through Myroke. Everyone heard about it except for the cubs, who do not like reading newspapers.

A week later the cubs were playing propaganda in the park again. Erwin was once again selling stereotypes.

Eventually a cub walked over to him. "Greetings and salutations," he said, "My name is Biblio. Are you selling those?"

"My name is Erwin and yes I am. They are called stereotypes."

"I shall take one," said Biblio. He took out the money and paid Erwin. He put on the stereotypes with overflowing excitement. Instantly, Erwin punched him out, and took his money and the glasses.

THE END

THE MORAL: Unless you learn from your history, you are doomed to repeat it.

(no subject)

It had been so long since I’ve seen or been apart of something so magical. It all started when I was stepping down the stairs. The black blocks placed after the white blocks were an illusion, a form trickery to expose you to your trust issues. In normal situations, the black could not be trusted, because the black is depth, the limitless pit to a hard fall. I learned to trust the stairs and I learned the black has an amazing effect and isn’t a bad thing. The way it could swallow a room so fast with only the dim little lantern like lighters sparkling and giving little stars to the waving hands and arms amongst the crowd. Or how it could distort the situation, pull you into an intimate world far away from the pervading nag of the adversities one faces in life.

I became pulled in after reaching the floor and to my surprise everyone had turned into elves. Everyone’s noses became that much cuter and their ears that much pointier. A gleam of enchantment and wonders (marvelous mind treasures (the stories, peoples, images and places!) glistened in their eyes. These elves had traveled all over from different regions of the world, each representing different tribes, different schools of thought, adorned in their own unique styles. I smiled warmly and no thought of misplacement entered my heart and head. My heart, however, started to beat faster with pre-show cool electronic notes playing out below my feet as I floated by in serpentine motion. I was not a queen, I was not a purveyor, nor was I merely observing from the outside. My place was unnamed, picked and perfect, I can never ask for anything else.

I found myself posed in a happy arrangement near my fellow friends and slid my white coat down past my back and felt the cool knobby metal pieces slide down my skin and my long brunette locks coil and retreat like Medusa’s snakes might, so unfamiliar with a life of their own. I didn’t need anyone to help or assist me out of politeness, because I am my own guiding hand. I am my own seductress.

The beats grew; they became more encompassing, more intense, louder and complex. The silky white screen in background played out forest light shows. The crowd was stirring, growing, moving with a continuously climax like energy and I was at the apex of it all.

I spotted an Arian child brightly clad in neo-euphoric wear from the across the room. My eyes followed Andy’s pointer finger, no wandering, I was there in seconds flat and we meet from100 yards away. I looked down to my lower left and saw someone in the crowd. He had bleached white hair that was messily rumpled, several necklaces that looked like cherished prizes from far away lands and a unique style of clothing. His arms were folded over his lanky frame and he paced nervously and vigorously back and forth over the expanding energy of the edging crowd. He controlled all of this; he was the Ringmaster with the mark on his back to prove it.

The crowd’s energy was beckoning forth the animal gods. I looked to my right and saw the emergence of the Buffalo, the Falcon, the Deer, The Polar Bear and Tiger. This was getting intense. The forest light show stretched out and thinned back again. And then they came.

The Kebler Elves stepped out and I released into full dance. Me adorned in 3 tiered black skirt,with arm and leg warmers to go. I was a Spanish Senorita on Rainbow Bright day. I witnessed it all, the coliseum like masses, all consisting of Greek mythology, every children’s story ever told, every Aesop Fable, every myth and legend blew forth.

And that was my first cherry poppin' show for 311.
Concrete

Found this on my old DJ community, had forgotten about it....

A scene.

Being shot is a strange sensation; many say you have to get shot to understand, and they’re right. I wish I had never found out, I don’t know why I stepped into the bullet’s path anymore. My life feels like liquid pouring out of me, I can see my memories flashing in my blood as it pours from my chest. There’s my dad, that was my graduation, and that was my first girlfriend Heather; I miss her. On my way down someone grabs onto my shoulders and lightly guides my body to the floor. I look over as my body limply falls, I see a woman. She is quite angelic, pale skin, bright eyes, and what seems to be an aura around her face and hair. Her name is Audrey, the bullet was meant for her.

My head is lowered onto the ground, and the gun is dropped smoking into my view. It points at me and the barrel reminds me of a skull. There’s nothing remarkable about this pistol, its not gold, or chrome or silver. It doesn’t look cool; it isn’t an automatic. It’s cold, it’s hard, it’s black, and it just shot me. My blood rushes out to meet it like the tides of the oceans, it seems like I can hear the crashing tide of my blood though I know it’s only a delusion. The feet behind it come crashing down to knees, and the man prostrates himself before me. I don’t like him at first sight, his face is pinched and he seems to be in pain, and then I remember him. His name is Daniel; he is the man who shot me.

I stand outside the relative safety of a bar, a local one I am known in. The two of them will soon get my story from those inside. I have no idea why they were fighting or why Daniel would try and kill anyone. I don’t know why I choose to leave the bar at that time, when I always stay so late. They will find out that I was terminal, I had but a few months left to live. I did not fear death any more; that is why I stepped into the bullet. My life sprays out before me written on the blood that gave me my life, I see the last time I saw my family. Oddly enough the wound had always been there, have you ever had a reoccurring phantom pain that could you could not explain away I used to; only now it’s real and it is fatal. My name is Dave, and I am dead.
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