Writing a story: PH style
Discussion
Part 1;
Like a lot of people, we all think that we have a good book stored up within us, with some actually the brave plunge & getting them into print.
I might regret doing this, but thought that it MIGHT be an interesting concept.
I was thinking, as a collective on PH, where there seems to be an abundance of literary skills, of how a story would evolve.
No bonus points for grammar or construction etc, good or bad.
Just a bit of fun to see how a story / stories would unfold & what direction it / they would take.
Being PistonHeads.... a certain element of this will undoubtably have to be involved.
Part ll;
It’s a bit like that old game, Consequences, but without the paper folding bit.
https://en.m.wikipedia.org/wiki/Consequences_(game...
I was just imagining, we would write short paragraph of a story before somebody else picks up the baton & carries it on.
Obviously, the genre & direction that it would take will be be totally unpredictable.
As I said, I might regret this later
SEE POST BELOW.
Like a lot of people, we all think that we have a good book stored up within us, with some actually the brave plunge & getting them into print.
I might regret doing this, but thought that it MIGHT be an interesting concept.
I was thinking, as a collective on PH, where there seems to be an abundance of literary skills, of how a story would evolve.
No bonus points for grammar or construction etc, good or bad.
Just a bit of fun to see how a story / stories would unfold & what direction it / they would take.
Being PistonHeads.... a certain element of this will undoubtably have to be involved.
Part ll;
It’s a bit like that old game, Consequences, but without the paper folding bit.
https://en.m.wikipedia.org/wiki/Consequences_(game...
I was just imagining, we would write short paragraph of a story before somebody else picks up the baton & carries it on.
Obviously, the genre & direction that it would take will be be totally unpredictable.
As I said, I might regret this later
SEE POST BELOW.
Edited by Milkyway on Saturday 13th November 09:50
Hi again.Let’s begin with...
It was a bleak cold Winters morning, & the old fashioned bedside alarm clock beeped & proudly displayed seven thirty AM with its bright red neons.
An arm slowly emerged from under its nice warm surroundings, a hand fumbling around in the darkness. As a solitary digit violently tapped the large snooze button for the first time that day, a muffled yawn was emitted from under the duvet...
Edited by Milkyway on Saturday 13th November 10:14
...growing steadily into a tumultuous crescendo.
"Crikey," Edward croaked, smirking, eyes still firmly clasped shut against the morning light that tried in vain to pry his eyelids apart. His wife, Diane, stirred weakly next to him.
"Stinks".
She slapped his torso with her heavy arm, asleep and numb. Diane rolled over half a turn, and fell back to sleep, none the wiser that Edward had...
"Crikey," Edward croaked, smirking, eyes still firmly clasped shut against the morning light that tried in vain to pry his eyelids apart. His wife, Diane, stirred weakly next to him.
"Stinks".
She slapped his torso with her heavy arm, asleep and numb. Diane rolled over half a turn, and fell back to sleep, none the wiser that Edward had...
Formerly been Edwina, doyenne of sin and knitting circles in the seaside town of Hastings. A fan of a needle, the crochet had provided an interesting foil to the heroin abuse and fondness for Morris dancing in the nude.
Am I doing this right?
Am I doing this right?
Edited by Harry Flashman on Tuesday 16th November 22:08
...Morris Dancing having been her husband prior to being shorned of her golden pigtails. Edward Dancing (he had kept his former lovers name) leant over and planted a soft kiss on Diane's cheek. He turned about and dropped his feet over the edge of the bed and into some crocheted slippers, the needle scars still very evident between his toes. He sighed. God how he missed being strung out along the Hastings promenade like some sort of high porcupine.
..remember that awful 911 review?? Throw as many clichés as you can. Eg...
The alarm woke Harry stubble early. Thankful he sold the 456, he slipped into the soft velvet glove of the optional carbon buckets and, at exactly 8:12 AM he thumbed the starter and manfully pointed the protruding snout of the 812 towards the barn. He had 59 mind before his rendezvous with the 911. Only the 812 superfast would do....
At 9:11 he heard the dull metallic chainsaw of the flatsix. This will be epic, he thought... whilst else filled with trepidation as to what the Peogeot would be like which awaited him on his arrival at 10:08. The time would be tight, but almost 2 hours 'twixt Peugeot and Austin 1200 gave him time to contemplate...
Etc etc, with references to watches throughout. And fine wine and grip: Remember dunlop denovo tyres making the difference between making lunch and missing the vital connection with the 1400cc Rover 214. In Si trim, it was a car which needed taming...
The alarm woke Harry stubble early. Thankful he sold the 456, he slipped into the soft velvet glove of the optional carbon buckets and, at exactly 8:12 AM he thumbed the starter and manfully pointed the protruding snout of the 812 towards the barn. He had 59 mind before his rendezvous with the 911. Only the 812 superfast would do....
At 9:11 he heard the dull metallic chainsaw of the flatsix. This will be epic, he thought... whilst else filled with trepidation as to what the Peogeot would be like which awaited him on his arrival at 10:08. The time would be tight, but almost 2 hours 'twixt Peugeot and Austin 1200 gave him time to contemplate...
Etc etc, with references to watches throughout. And fine wine and grip: Remember dunlop denovo tyres making the difference between making lunch and missing the vital connection with the 1400cc Rover 214. In Si trim, it was a car which needed taming...
Nevertheless, a date was, Ed always thought to herself, a date. Breakfast with the PM was always a chore, never a pleasure, but a duty above all.
Smirking slightly, she put on her Kimono robe, lit a joint and slinked to the bathroom. Something seemed slight awry, however. Smirk turning to frown, she pushed the door open, instantly taking in a scene of horror. It wasn't the sight that turned her stomach. No, it was the foul miasma undulating through the room. A stench of fear, of shame, of...
Smirking slightly, she put on her Kimono robe, lit a joint and slinked to the bathroom. Something seemed slight awry, however. Smirk turning to frown, she pushed the door open, instantly taking in a scene of horror. It wasn't the sight that turned her stomach. No, it was the foul miasma undulating through the room. A stench of fear, of shame, of...
… of seven dwarven prostitutes draped across the toilet, the sink, the finely embroidered crocheted bathmat. Seven dwarven prostitutes and a side of smoked salmon.
“What the f
k happened here last night?”
On top of not knowing whether the narrator should address them he or she, Ed was now faced with explaining seven diminutive strangers and a salmon to Diane. Ed had sworn this life had been left behind when…
“What the f
k happened here last night?” On top of not knowing whether the narrator should address them he or she, Ed was now faced with explaining seven diminutive strangers and a salmon to Diane. Ed had sworn this life had been left behind when…
Edited by Alias218 on Tuesday 16th November 23:34
Edited by Alias218 on Tuesday 16th November 23:35
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