For this week's assignment we had to take last week's character and create a situation with dialogue and written in 1st or 3rd person view. As you can see I chose third. Where the inspiration for this one came from I not certain, but I was doing a little a little research on prices for tours round the Tower of London and decided I wanted to incorporate the tower into my story.
However, as I wasn't able to find much on the royal members who had resided there over the past 1000 years I decided on the person/people in this story which I've called "Counted".
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Skidding round the corner and almost losing his footing, Pete continued to run through the numerous corridors of Hungary‘s greatest tower, not daring to look behind through fear of hitting into something or someone he didn‘t fancy hitting. Besides, he knew what was behind and it wasn’t something he’d want to see again, anyway.
“Come the fuck back!”, a voice echoed, bouncing off of every wall along with the thump of something hard against the cold, grey stone. God knows who it was but Pete wasn’t going to find out anytime soon if it could be helped.
Turning another corner, he spotted a large wooden door, slightly open which, judging from the strip of yellow light that shone through the gap, would provide a hiding area.
Slowly closing the door to it’s original position, Pete turned on his heels and saw that someone he hadn’t seen when he’d entered the room seconds earlier was sat on the bed, smiling softly. She was dressed in a large, decorative dress which only a person of royalty would be fit to wear with her hair tied up and a smile that could freeze anyone in their path, including, evidently, Pete. Still smiling, she gently licked her lips, removing what looked like a small speck of blood. She’d either bitten her lip or, if she was who Pete thought she was, she’d just had a meal.
The woman in front of Pete could only be Elizabeth Bathory of Hungarian royalty.
“Can I help you?”, she asked in a soft yet strong voice.
Rumours had been floating around that the Countess had been taking in female workers (with teenage virgins being her favourite) and torturing, mutilating and even killing them, 10s at a time. She’d apparently also been bathing in their blood to remain beautiful. If the latter was true, it had certainly worked.
“N-no. I mean, yes. Some nut bag out there seems to have a slight disliking towards me. Fancy telling him to fuck off out of here, save my skin and be a heroine to the city?”, he replied in a sentence which seemed to instead be just one long word. He quickly added “Your Highness”, for good measure.
She pondered the thought for a moment, flicking her eyes around the room, then stopped still and said flatly: “You mean the Count of Hungary, my husband?”
Half a second after hearing that final syllable, Pete had opened the door and started running. There was no way he’d be staying in the presence of that woman and her wild husband.
However, the escape card was not in the hands of Pete and, as he ran round the first corner of the corridor, a searing paid shot through his body. Looking down at his torso, he appeared to be impaled upon the Count’s razor-sharp sword.
“You’ve been Counted” were the last words Pete heard.
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Sunday 20 March 2011
Sunday 13 March 2011
Assignment E (and more)
This post is going to be on more than just this weeks assignment. There's a little bit of news on the writing job front also which I'll get to at the end of this post. Firstly though, I suppose I should post the assignment, yeah?
This week we had to look at some observation notes we took whilst sat outside during the workshop and turn them into a story written in a 2nd person point of view ('You' as as opposed to 'I' or 'They')
I quite enjoyed this assignment as it gave me a new voice to work with and something which I've not done before as I've always written in either first or third person perspective out of habit and comfortableness.
Anyway, here it is, a little story I call 'Blue Monday' (the skies were perfectly blue and it was a Monday, geddit? Clever, huh?)
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You’re sitting there on the small stone step, staring at the water rippling quietly with the blue sky reflecting off of its surface and the sun reflecting its beams through the air. You can feel the heat of the sun on your cheek but the soft breeze is keeping you cool. You can’t help but think that it’s an absolutely beautiful day and that spring has almost arrived. Looking beyond the water you can see that the horizon is a soft yellow haze. Somewhat mesmerising.
30 yards to your right is a small group of students trying to fly a kite but are failing miserably. You want to join them but can’t as you have to wait for someone and you can’t afford to miss this meeting, especially after what happened last time you disappeared before meeting a friend.
There’s a bird beside you. A pigeon. And you can’t help but stare at the thing with its head bobbing back and forth as it walks and its little trick of hopping onto the ledge, turning round and hopping back down again with bird-like skills. Shouldn’t he be in Trafalgar Square though?
You’re checking your mobile for the third time in - according to the clock - the third time in 15 minutes, wondering where he is when you glance up and see your friend walking towards you with a big grin on his face. Sitting down beside you he’s asking you “So, have you got the gear?” in a quiet voice following it with a chuckle.
“Yeah,” you’re saying whilst reaching into your bag and producing a plastic bag. You’re handing it to him gently so as not to drop it.
He’s looking and reaching his hand in, muttering the word “Perfect” and after a few seconds he’s pulled out a chilled bottle of real Coca Cola. Just what he asked for.
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Moving onto the news of the writing job, the story goes somewhat like this:
I'd been corresponding with someone over email for a few days just arranging and making some sort of deal about what I'd be writing etc. Standard stuff and a meeting was arranged for today.
Went to the meeting/interview (which went really well) and met the man I'd be writing for. We. discussed details (what he wants written, where it'll be, future ideas etc) and came to a deal that I'll get back to the flat and using the notes I'd taken during the meeting, write out a short biography and details of the (personal training) services he offered.
Now that's all written out and emailed I'm just waiting for a reply and going to arrange a price which I've got a rough idea of. Got to decide whether to do it by work count of set price. Think I'll go with the former as it's probably easier to work with.
There'll also be some future meetings on something like a fortnightly basis just to discuss everything and see what needs to be done.
So, after whit loads of emails to various 'employers' I've landed a decent gig which should remain on-going for however long it goes. And I'll finally have some money for a nice load of fatty junk food and some clementines.
That'll be all for now. More info and assignments to come next week.
This week we had to look at some observation notes we took whilst sat outside during the workshop and turn them into a story written in a 2nd person point of view ('You' as as opposed to 'I' or 'They')
I quite enjoyed this assignment as it gave me a new voice to work with and something which I've not done before as I've always written in either first or third person perspective out of habit and comfortableness.
Anyway, here it is, a little story I call 'Blue Monday' (the skies were perfectly blue and it was a Monday, geddit? Clever, huh?)
-------------------
You’re sitting there on the small stone step, staring at the water rippling quietly with the blue sky reflecting off of its surface and the sun reflecting its beams through the air. You can feel the heat of the sun on your cheek but the soft breeze is keeping you cool. You can’t help but think that it’s an absolutely beautiful day and that spring has almost arrived. Looking beyond the water you can see that the horizon is a soft yellow haze. Somewhat mesmerising.
30 yards to your right is a small group of students trying to fly a kite but are failing miserably. You want to join them but can’t as you have to wait for someone and you can’t afford to miss this meeting, especially after what happened last time you disappeared before meeting a friend.
There’s a bird beside you. A pigeon. And you can’t help but stare at the thing with its head bobbing back and forth as it walks and its little trick of hopping onto the ledge, turning round and hopping back down again with bird-like skills. Shouldn’t he be in Trafalgar Square though?
You’re checking your mobile for the third time in - according to the clock - the third time in 15 minutes, wondering where he is when you glance up and see your friend walking towards you with a big grin on his face. Sitting down beside you he’s asking you “So, have you got the gear?” in a quiet voice following it with a chuckle.
“Yeah,” you’re saying whilst reaching into your bag and producing a plastic bag. You’re handing it to him gently so as not to drop it.
He’s looking and reaching his hand in, muttering the word “Perfect” and after a few seconds he’s pulled out a chilled bottle of real Coca Cola. Just what he asked for.
------------
Moving onto the news of the writing job, the story goes somewhat like this:
I'd been corresponding with someone over email for a few days just arranging and making some sort of deal about what I'd be writing etc. Standard stuff and a meeting was arranged for today.
Went to the meeting/interview (which went really well) and met the man I'd be writing for. We. discussed details (what he wants written, where it'll be, future ideas etc) and came to a deal that I'll get back to the flat and using the notes I'd taken during the meeting, write out a short biography and details of the (personal training) services he offered.
Now that's all written out and emailed I'm just waiting for a reply and going to arrange a price which I've got a rough idea of. Got to decide whether to do it by work count of set price. Think I'll go with the former as it's probably easier to work with.
There'll also be some future meetings on something like a fortnightly basis just to discuss everything and see what needs to be done.
So, after whit loads of emails to various 'employers' I've landed a decent gig which should remain on-going for however long it goes. And I'll finally have some money for a nice load of fatty junk food and some clementines.
That'll be all for now. More info and assignments to come next week.
Friday 11 March 2011
Persistence Pays Off
As some of you know, I've been looking for a paid writing job for quite some time and not been having much luck. Until the last couple of days. The story is below:
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As of late, I have been without money (by which I mean £35 overdrawn, no income and living off of dry pasta and tap water - ah, student life) and have therefore been required to browse Gumtree looking for writing jobs which put some money in my pocket.
Although I enjoy doing freelance writing for nothing (which I’m doing with this article right now) I also have to feed myself, even if it’s with pocket money. However, to succeed in this I have spent hours at a time on the aforementioned website replying to ads which I feel I’d be able to write about and earn enough money to buy a tin of beans and some bread. This is where persistence comes in.
I spent my evenings replying to ads with a lengthy email which would include descriptions of my capabilities, what I’m willing to do or write about (which was just about anything) with an added link to my blogs at the bottom for some samples of my writing.
A few times this worked and I’d get the odd job here and there but recently I was having an extremely dry run. Until the evening of the 11th of March, that is. There I was, sat on a forum and Facebook, daydreaming of having a walk around London when ’Sunshine of Your Love’ suddenly started playing out of my mobile beside me. When I checked who it was, it was just a UK number which I didn’t recognise. I answered anyway.
After a 20 minute conversation/interview which involved questions about what I’d be writing about, am I interested in journalism and about possibly becoming a teacher I was told I’d receive a call in approximately two weeks confirming whether I’d got the position or not. Hanging up, I felt extremely optimistic as the interview seemed to go well, emails had been positive and I felt that I’d answered the questions well and with a verbal sign of confidence. This had to go on Facebook!
Do I think I’ve certainly got the job or do I keep an open mind and apply for the odd one here and there just to keep me on my toes? I’ll go for the latter myself but remain optimistic about the former.
It’s taken three months of blood, sweat and tears (Note to self: Stop exaggerating) but I‘m there (almost).
Moral of the story? Should you be turned down for one job, don’t think that’s the end, just keep applying and you’ll get there in the end.
And remember these three words: Persistence pays off.
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----------------
As of late, I have been without money (by which I mean £35 overdrawn, no income and living off of dry pasta and tap water - ah, student life) and have therefore been required to browse Gumtree looking for writing jobs which put some money in my pocket.
Although I enjoy doing freelance writing for nothing (which I’m doing with this article right now) I also have to feed myself, even if it’s with pocket money. However, to succeed in this I have spent hours at a time on the aforementioned website replying to ads which I feel I’d be able to write about and earn enough money to buy a tin of beans and some bread. This is where persistence comes in.
I spent my evenings replying to ads with a lengthy email which would include descriptions of my capabilities, what I’m willing to do or write about (which was just about anything) with an added link to my blogs at the bottom for some samples of my writing.
A few times this worked and I’d get the odd job here and there but recently I was having an extremely dry run. Until the evening of the 11th of March, that is. There I was, sat on a forum and Facebook, daydreaming of having a walk around London when ’Sunshine of Your Love’ suddenly started playing out of my mobile beside me. When I checked who it was, it was just a UK number which I didn’t recognise. I answered anyway.
After a 20 minute conversation/interview which involved questions about what I’d be writing about, am I interested in journalism and about possibly becoming a teacher I was told I’d receive a call in approximately two weeks confirming whether I’d got the position or not. Hanging up, I felt extremely optimistic as the interview seemed to go well, emails had been positive and I felt that I’d answered the questions well and with a verbal sign of confidence. This had to go on Facebook!
Do I think I’ve certainly got the job or do I keep an open mind and apply for the odd one here and there just to keep me on my toes? I’ll go for the latter myself but remain optimistic about the former.
It’s taken three months of blood, sweat and tears (Note to self: Stop exaggerating) but I‘m there (almost).
Moral of the story? Should you be turned down for one job, don’t think that’s the end, just keep applying and you’ll get there in the end.
And remember these three words: Persistence pays off.
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Monday 7 March 2011
Assignment D
This one was set last week and should have been put up in the same week but, alas, I forgot, didn't I? Classic Pete. Enough woefulness, however, lets move onto the assignment.
This (last) week we had to rewrite the following excerpt in our own style however we liked:
"and you tell me my other self will you answer me at last I am tired of you I want you I dream of you for you against you answer me your name is a perfume about me your colour bursts among the thorns bring back my heart with coll wine make me a coverlet of the morning I suffocate beneath this mask withered shrunken skin nothing exists save desire - Philippe Sollers (1936 - )
The piece above was type exactly as it was given to us - no punctuation, no sentence structure, no sense but with some close reading and a thesaurus I managed to come up with the following entitled "My Other Self":
You ask my other self
The one which answers words
Why I dream of you many times
Despite being tired of you
Give me your name
A wish upon my mind
A possible demand
Who am I writing of?
Against your wishes
I want to dream of you
And the thorns
Which are a perfume to me
Your colours
And your wines
Are bedclothes covers
Over me in the morning chill
Your mask suffocates me
With desirous skin
Which exists in this world
Nothing but shrunken
And withered to grey dust
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When read in class it generally received good comments, especially about the first verse and final line. Another piece of writing I was quite happy with. Sadly I don't really know what it means, the words just came out after reading the extract. Oh well.
Strange isn't it? When I started uni just 6 months ago, I hated poetry (still do at times) but now a lot of my assignments are written in a poetic style. Maybe I'm a sell-out/fraud?
This (last) week we had to rewrite the following excerpt in our own style however we liked:
"and you tell me my other self will you answer me at last I am tired of you I want you I dream of you for you against you answer me your name is a perfume about me your colour bursts among the thorns bring back my heart with coll wine make me a coverlet of the morning I suffocate beneath this mask withered shrunken skin nothing exists save desire - Philippe Sollers (1936 - )
The piece above was type exactly as it was given to us - no punctuation, no sentence structure, no sense but with some close reading and a thesaurus I managed to come up with the following entitled "My Other Self":
You ask my other self
The one which answers words
Why I dream of you many times
Despite being tired of you
Give me your name
A wish upon my mind
A possible demand
Who am I writing of?
Against your wishes
I want to dream of you
And the thorns
Which are a perfume to me
Your colours
And your wines
Are bedclothes covers
Over me in the morning chill
Your mask suffocates me
With desirous skin
Which exists in this world
Nothing but shrunken
And withered to grey dust
--------------
When read in class it generally received good comments, especially about the first verse and final line. Another piece of writing I was quite happy with. Sadly I don't really know what it means, the words just came out after reading the extract. Oh well.
Strange isn't it? When I started uni just 6 months ago, I hated poetry (still do at times) but now a lot of my assignments are written in a poetic style. Maybe I'm a sell-out/fraud?
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