Wednesday, February 25, 2009
An Example ;)
Ok- it might seem dorky, but...
Here is an example of my "collaboration story" idea. My writing is in BLACK and Isabella's is in GRAY:
She gazed into the stream, her eyes fixed on the face she saw there. The complexion was white like porcelain, cheeks stained with pink; her hair was long, free waves in ebony black that shone in the sun; her lips as red as two freshly-plucked rose petals. She was like God’s hand-crafted doll, but a living, breathing beauty. She smiled, but not only with her lips – her blue eyes sparkled as well, radiating life and joy and inner peace. Every time she moved, the girl in the stream moved as well. As she picked a daisy from the warm grass and tossed it into the stream, the girl did the same. She bent forward to get a little closer to the stream, the girl did too.
Snow White was beautiful – even the blind could tell.
The young girl picked another daisy before skipping of to the palace in which she lived. She ran up the walk, eager to give her stepmother the beautiful flower.
“Mirror, Mirror on the wall, who is the fairest of them all?”
Snow White stopped, frozen. It was her stepmother’s voice. She tip-toed to the window, and crouched down to listen.
“Unlike the last time, and the time before that –
Be prepared Queen, hold on to your hat –
You are no longer the belle of the ball,
Snow White is now the fairest one of all,”
That was the magic mirror replying.
Snow White had only a moment to register what the mirror had said before her mind was filled with an enraged scream. The scream came from her Stepmother.
“No, this – this can’t be happening! Noooo!” The Queen yelled.
Snow White didn’t want to believe her ears. I can’t believe-
Smash! Something glass broke in the queen’s parlour. “Eeeeeeh!” a loud, chalkboard ’n ’nail shriek came from the window above. Snow White flinched in shock and ducked when a cat went flying over her head Mrreeoow! She covered her head and felt an impulse to run away.
But not before –
“Snow White must die!”
Her legs moved her far away from her step mother’s screeching. She ran out of the castle courtyard, through the grassy field, hopping as she removed her dainty shoes, not caring to pick them up. Her free feet picked up speed as she pushed on, passing the lime stone walls and pushing through the heavy wrought-iron gate. She headed into the forest, breath heavy and legs burning, but she kept on, past the gatekeeper’s hut and the murky pond. She stopped and bent over, grasping her knees to catch her breath, her throat was sore, and her legs felt so heavy, like she had lost her control over them. Her mind moved her towards the tree house, only few could recognize it for the way the vines snaked up the tree in a counter-clockwise direction. She grasped the lowest two branches which met her waist and pulled herself up to the platform that was enclosed by bark and branches and several vines.
Here is an example of my "collaboration story" idea. My writing is in BLACK and Isabella's is in GRAY:
She gazed into the stream, her eyes fixed on the face she saw there. The complexion was white like porcelain, cheeks stained with pink; her hair was long, free waves in ebony black that shone in the sun; her lips as red as two freshly-plucked rose petals. She was like God’s hand-crafted doll, but a living, breathing beauty. She smiled, but not only with her lips – her blue eyes sparkled as well, radiating life and joy and inner peace. Every time she moved, the girl in the stream moved as well. As she picked a daisy from the warm grass and tossed it into the stream, the girl did the same. She bent forward to get a little closer to the stream, the girl did too.
Snow White was beautiful – even the blind could tell.
The young girl picked another daisy before skipping of to the palace in which she lived. She ran up the walk, eager to give her stepmother the beautiful flower.
“Mirror, Mirror on the wall, who is the fairest of them all?”
Snow White stopped, frozen. It was her stepmother’s voice. She tip-toed to the window, and crouched down to listen.
“Unlike the last time, and the time before that –
Be prepared Queen, hold on to your hat –
You are no longer the belle of the ball,
Snow White is now the fairest one of all,”
That was the magic mirror replying.
Snow White had only a moment to register what the mirror had said before her mind was filled with an enraged scream. The scream came from her Stepmother.
“No, this – this can’t be happening! Noooo!” The Queen yelled.
Snow White didn’t want to believe her ears. I can’t believe-
Smash! Something glass broke in the queen’s parlour. “Eeeeeeh!” a loud, chalkboard ’n ’nail shriek came from the window above. Snow White flinched in shock and ducked when a cat went flying over her head Mrreeoow! She covered her head and felt an impulse to run away.
But not before –
“Snow White must die!”
Her legs moved her far away from her step mother’s screeching. She ran out of the castle courtyard, through the grassy field, hopping as she removed her dainty shoes, not caring to pick them up. Her free feet picked up speed as she pushed on, passing the lime stone walls and pushing through the heavy wrought-iron gate. She headed into the forest, breath heavy and legs burning, but she kept on, past the gatekeeper’s hut and the murky pond. She stopped and bent over, grasping her knees to catch her breath, her throat was sore, and her legs felt so heavy, like she had lost her control over them. Her mind moved her towards the tree house, only few could recognize it for the way the vines snaked up the tree in a counter-clockwise direction. She grasped the lowest two branches which met her waist and pulled herself up to the platform that was enclosed by bark and branches and several vines.
Thursday, January 29, 2009
Putting our Heads Together
So, i've had this idea that i've been wanting to implement for ages. I've been wanting to write a "collaboration story", where each paragraph, or chapter, or section of the story is written by a new writer. The story has no particular outline at first, it's bascially left upto the writers to choose the direction as they craft their piece of the story. For example, I might start by writing a paragraph and then the next person would add onto the story with a paragraph of their own and it would continue indefinately. It would be fun to see how each writer adds their own voice, imagination and style to each section of the story!
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