Time for another Story Cube inspired story. Have any of you tried your hand at creating one? Give it a go! It’s a lot of fun. :).
One day Janie was playing in the garden with her Mr. Snuggles, her teddy bear and her Barbie doll. Having ran out of ideas what to do with them next she got to her feet and ran inside her house to get her tea set. She became distracted, however when the cactus that her mother kept on the kitchen windowsill started blinking.
With closer inspection she could see a padlock chained around the body. Thinking it strange she touched it to see whether it had a key but the cactus sneezed. How odd. She thought. I’ve never seen a cactus sneeze before. Janie became even more alarmed when it started moving. She began to back away from it only to bump into Edward, the family’s parrot who chirped and flapped his multicoloured wings in surprise.
Janie’s eyes caught sight of the clock. The little hand was pointed at the four and the large one was pointed on the twelve. She thought hard, remembering what she’d learnt about time that day at school. Four o clock. Daddy will be home soon. The thought sent a shudder up her spine. She left the house in a daze and went to sit back underneath the tree where Mr. Snuggles and her Barbie doll were waiting and she decided to groom them both instead.
Today I am going to talk about setting and why it’s important when writing a novel.
Setting is crucial when writing a novel. Not only does it give your reader an idea of the weather it can also set the tone for the scene or novel.
Why do I say novel? Surely the weather can’t set the tone for all of it? No. Of course not. A setting doesn’t boil down to just weather.
What do I mean, then by setting?
Setting is about time. When is your story going to take place? Is it going to be set in medieval times? The Bronze Age perhaps? Or maybe in modern day Britain with a bit of a twist?
I have struggled with setting when writing Pandora’s Kiss as there are two world’s; one is set in a medieval setting, the second is more futuristic. I have, and still am struggling with getting every detail just right. Before I started writing fantasy I thought it was about watching your imagination come to life and while it is you still have to make things realistic. That’s what I’ve learnt.
How can setting determine what the novel is about?
I’m going to use Harry Potter as an example here. In the first chapter we see Mr. Dursley encounter several figures wearing robes and pointy hats which gives the impression of a different world. This becomes true when Vernon then tells Petunia of what he witnessed in a disgusted manner. The them and us theme tends to continue throughout. Just like setting, having a theme is as equally important but that’s for another day. 🙂
while using the weather can create a sense a fear or excitement in a chapter it’s not vital to use it for every one. The weather can be important but just like we don’t focus on it in everyday living neither should we pay it attention in every paragraph.
Here’s another short story inspired by Rory’s Story Cubes. Have a go at creating your own. :).
There was once a woman who lived in a tower with a man who kept her captive in a small room underneath the floorboards. She was fed bread and water at several hours of the day and not much else.
One morning when she awoke she found a postcard addressed to her claiming that she was a lost Princess belonging to a world called Hysteria and that worldwide search was being conducted for her safe return. Nothing ever came for her in all of her twenty five years because nobody knew she existed. She found it very strange and blood curdling.
She looked all over for a signature to see who had written it but she could find nothing but a handprint. She placed her own hand onto it but nothing happened.
“Such a silly thing to do.” She scolded herself. “As if anything would have come of it.”
A flash of white light eliminates from the postcard and soon an old man emerged. He is holding a walking stick and a robe in the other.
“You are Princess of Hysteria. The beast of Aerion has you in his grasp. It is up to me, the great and wise Robius to teach you his weaknesses.”
Robius taught her the element of darkness and how to draw down the moon. He taught her the element of fire and how to use it to her best advantage. He taught her the properties of time and how to move through, back and halt time. “You are ready, Princess Hortencia. May everything I taught you be ever in your favour.”.
As Robius left through the portal of th’s postcard, Hortencia witnessed her first shooting star but not knowing to make a wish she just admired its beauty.
She then heard the key turn in the lock and she geared herself up for the fight which would determine her life.
As 1 in 4 of us will suffer from a mental related illness at some point in our lives it is something that needs talking about, hence why I’m writing this post.
As you might have read previous posts I suffer from depression and anxiety and have done since the age of eleven due to being physically, sexually, mentally and emotionally abused by my mother and her on/off boyfriend.
I went to my third assessment in a year for mental health as things hadn’t been improving even with therapy. The woman who I saw was lovely, though she seemed surprised that I’d mentioned my suspicions of having a Dependant Personality Disorder.
This might seem strange but to me it makes sense. I never had a loving mother which led to me being extremely attached to other women. Some being teachers at school, others being mums of my friends.
One woman who I became attached to was a lady who became my mentor who was assigned to help me build confidence and self esteem but that never really happened. I was quite distant with her at first. I wouldn’t talk and this had made her question what she was doing wrong. Not knowing my background it was only to be expected. She was only supposed to have me for a year but ended up having me for five until she and her husband and daughter moved to Australia when I was thirteen. We’re still in touch now and is now known to me as my semi adoptive mother.
The meeting went on for quite a while with me talking about everything that had happened, what my days consist of, energy levels and that kind of thing. The assessor agreed that I hadn’t transitioned into an adult and that I was still a child which is what can happen when a child isn’t nurtured properly. It was established by her that my depression wasn’t clinical as tablets didn’t work and if it had been that then theh would have had some effect.
I am waiting to hear whether I qualify for a diagnosis to see whether it is a Personality Disorder and if not I will be integreted into Primary Psychology. The assesor had her doubts about what could be done when counselling wasn’t useful but she said she’d talk it over and get back in touch.
I only hope that this is a road to recovery that is true. Being a child almost and longing for a mother is something that I don’t want for my future. I would love it if it were to happen but the chances of it now are non existant. It’s time to move on.
It’s that time of the week again!
Here’s another short story that was inspired by Rory’s Story Cubes.
It was a dark and stormy night at sea in late winter where a lighthouse stood, shining its light for incoming ships with the waves battering against the walls of the pier. The rain splashing off the roads and pavements.
Amongst the darkness lay a fierce looking girl with a scar against her right cheek and her clothes torn showing many holes. She stands watching the waves, the moon round and bright making the sky a twilight blue.
The girl reaches into her pocket and pulls out a small vial containing a thick, purple liquid that smothers the glass. She pops off the lid and pours out the liquid onto the wet concrete. The liquid bubbles and hisses and from the gloopiness rises a small figure dressed in leather, its skin a vibrant blue. His ears are pointy, his face angular and covered in hideous boils. The girl cuffs his hands together, frowning as she does so.
“This is your doing isn’t it, Kimochi?” She asks her familiar. Kimochi gives a low mewl. “How many times must I tell you not to play around with the law of physics?”
“But Mistresss,” Kimochi hisses. “The Goddess, Orianai warned that allowing nature to take it’s course would be fatal to all mankind.”
“Mankind was screwed way before the great oracle came to pass. They screwed themselves over. This time there’ll be no chances. Just deliverence.” The waves crash against the rocks ever more violently than before and soon a cradle is seen swaying its way over to the girl. She bends down and takes the baby out of its bed. The baby cries softly, its eyes fixated on her, she gently shuffles her.
“It’s all right, Odin.” She whispers. “You won’t be in this form very long.” She holds him in front of her, his cheeks a mint green. He raises a hand. It’s brown and wrinkly with a set of sharp nails. Odin is in fact a dinosaur instead of a baby.
Have fun creating your own mini story. You can share them in the comments or not at all.
Apart from Pandora’s Kiss I am also working on another novel called, as you might guess from the title and picture 2084. This will pick up from where George Orwell left off from his novel 1984.
This will be a co authoring project with a lovely guy called Dick Wilz who came to me with his vision of what 2084 would be like and I loved it so much that agreed to work on it with him.
Those of you who are familiar with 1984 will remember that Winston co operated with Big Brother but their attempt to re educate him failed. Our novel will follow up on that with three different perspectives.
I hope you will be with us on this journey to greatness.
You might remember me talking about Rory’s Story Cubes last week. This is my first experiment with using them. I wrote this with my seven year old sister. If you want to give it a go just use the image above as a guide. You never know what you’ll come up with.
Once upon a time there was a young boy who liked to read. His name was Joesph and his favourite genre was Science Fiction.
He loved reading about about giant maggots that invaded caves and heroes that blasted enemies into oblivion with their guns that emitted purple rays at the speed of light. He was so engrossed in his story one day, that he didn’t realise his sister’s presence. His sister, Mary planted a tarrantula on top of his head. He didn’t notice until its hairy legs began travelling down his face. He screamed with terror.
But he loved his sister too much to have a go at her for her prank so he decided to return the favour. He knew she hated toads so with that he took himself to the pond in the woods. There, he swiped one underneath his woolly hat and quickly made his way to her room where he placed the toad onto her bed and called her.
Little did he know that Mary was out catching insects in the nearby field and wouldn’t be home for some time.
After an hours had passed Joesph got the toad and find her himself. Mary greeted him with a smile and a nod and planted the toad on her head when she wasn’t looking. She could hear a croaking and her eyes flew upwards but she didn’t scream.
“Why aren’t you screaming?” He asked.
“It’s poisonous and it’s already sprayed some on you.”
Of course, Joesph was all right. Mary had joked about the toad being poisonous to panic her brother. I enjoyed writing this particularly because of the theme of sibling rivalry and just how far it goes to be the best.