Do any of you write stories

[frugalandsimple]

If you do, do you share what you wrote with others? I like taking a song and turning it into a stroy. Or I make up my own stories.

[perSue]

i do!

i'm in the middle of my 2nd book of poetry, prose and short stories.

havent exactly worked on getting the first published... but i've gotta 2nd book! LOL

i write about what i experience directly or vicariously, see, wish for, feel... you name it.

i'll have to dig around and start typing up my stuff... but i could share.

a lot of it is really old and doesnt exactly pertain to how i feel/am today... but, that's ok... it's my own time capsule.

[Sara Noel]

When I was a child, I wrote plays. My ultimate dream would be to write and sell a screenplay and see it in production. My initial goal was to write novels. I'm a little sidetracked. But, I'm pleased with my writing career and have every intention of reaching my dreams.

Growing up, I shared all of my plays with friends. As an adult, I never shared anything I wrote until recently. I still write a lot that I keep private.

[Momto2Boyz]

I have always been an novice writer. I somewhat enjoy writing short stories, but I much prefer writing longer shorts.

I am working on a novel right now, which I've shown to a few of my bookworm friends, who are desperately waiting for more chapters so I took it as a sign that it was decent. I may try to have it published when it is finished, we will have to see! I love writing ametuer slueth novels, so that is what this one is.

I have a friend who is a writer, and she constantly "challanges" me on myspace to different writing projects (which is good, it helps keep me sharp).

What the hay! I'm gonna share...hopefully someone else will share theirs too!

A Day in the Woods~A Lifetime Gone By (A short story by me!)

I open my eyes to find the blinding morning light sparkling off the dew kissed leaves. I step tentatively in the forest, the sun full of promise in the east, unsure of what lies ahead on the open pathway, I begin my journey. My eyes begin to adjust to the morning glow, as the the light begins to lift above the cocoon of trees surrounding me, protecting me. I walk the path and find undiscovered treasures around every bend. In a fleeting thought, I am reminded of a newborn discovering the world around him for the first time.

I come to a pond in the infancy of the morning. Seemingly empty and motionless, I am encapsulated by its innocence and beauty. I sit on the damp grass and watch the stillness of the pond. I am struck by the realization that this seemingly stagnant pond is full of life, masked by the mirrored surface of calm. As I peer over the edge of the bank, I am struck first by my own reflection and an expanse of a cloud spattered sky. I focus my eyes and begin to see the movement behind the reflection of my own eyes. The pond, which cannot speak or hear, is teeming with life below its rippled surface. Minnows swimming in schools, frogs diving deep below to the surface of mud and plant life exploding due to the richness of the pond.

I force my legs to leave the serenity of this spot, as I know my journey must continue, however much I wish to stay in the childlike innocence of the pond. I spot a white-tail deer attempting to begin it's own journey into the world. I stand motionless, watching the deer wobble up onto its thin legs. It begins a step, only to tumble down to the lush grass, knocked down by the unseen force of immaturity. I stand, timelessly, watching the deer begin to toddle around his surroundings. Exploring his home through curious eyes. I am filled with wonder at this young creature, whose life spreads out wide before him.

I blindly follow the deer down a path of trampled grass and I begin to see the world around me through the curious eyes of a child. I look for the deer, but his new found legs have confidently taken him away into the world. I begin to look at the wonder of the forest around me. I see the world full of color and sound. Bright vibrant colors of greens and blues, reds and oranges. I hear a pluthera of sounds that I begin to isolate within my own ears. Birds and crickets and leaves crunching below my feet. The individual sounds of the forest, necessary to forest life, blending into a harmonious chorus. I hear another sound and realize that I am humming a long forgotten tune from my childhood.

In a small clearing of light, I see a flock of brightly colored birds, and I am entranced by them. I know they can offer me nothing, but I long to be a part of their flock. I feel compelled to be accepted by them. I step closer to them and disturb the normalcy of their day. They instantly spread their wings and flit into the air briefly, landing at a distance not far from where they started. They are unforgiving and relentless to keep to a safe distance of their choosing. A tear slides down my cheek.

I continue down the path, purposely distrupting the birds in their peaceful oblivion. I come across a downed tree, that was once alive and filled with possibility, but is now a depression of decay. I look over every inch of the wood. On the surface, the bark is visibly intact, with only a few wounds, showing the life it had led. Unless inspected closely, one would not see the termites and grubs, slowly eating away at the soul of the tree. Memory stirs within me.

I leave the tree behind, wishing to quickly remove the buried memories that it brought to the front of my mind. I come to a meadow in midday, and thoughts of the log are far from my mind again. The forest suddenly seems full of possiblity again, as I look out at the bright, open meadow. My eyes wander over clusters of vibrant families of flowers, gathered together for security against the elements. I see two bright butterflies flitting together, one sensing the others move, so they move seemlessly together through the air. I am reminded of young love full of possiblity and hope.

I pull myself away down the path, not wanting to leave the peaceful rythym of the butterflies. I glance behind me to find two young chipmunks looking up at me expectantly with wide eyes. They are fearful at first, but following me, watching my every move and waiting for direction. I feel a maternal instinct to watch over these creatures with love and compassion. I sit down with them for a better part of the afternoon, feeling their comfort and trust of me. I feel the need to protect them, wether they need it or not.

As quickly as I found them, they are gone. Moved on, out into the forest to continue on with their own lives and I find myself missing them and worrying for them. I begin to feel isolated and alone in the forest. The light is beginning to settle in the west and I suddenly feel the urge to slow down and rest. I am suddenly overwhelmed by nervous idle, isolation and exhaustion.

As dusk settles in, I realize that the forest is a much paralled image of my own life. The sun rousing me to life, the still pond bursting with life below the surface my infancy. Reminding me of the wide-eyed baby, unable to speak of what it sees, but absorbing everything around it and storing under the surface. The young deer learning to walk, the colors and sounds bringing my mind to fruition, my childhood. Full of new discoveries. The unaccepting birds and rotting log, a perfected metaphore of my teenage years, full of angst and anger. My teenage years wiped clean by young butterflies, together as one in love. The chipmunks representing the children I raised and released out into the world. The isolation of the forest, much like my own home after the children had gone.

As the sun settles and darkness envlops me into its arms with a serenity I have never known. I realize the darkness is the death I have feared through my life. A feeling comes over me and I realize that there is no need to fear the darkness. It comes down upon me and I am left with the sounds of my memories, like protection against the isolation of death.

I no longer feel the emotions and memories of my life individually. Like the sounds of the forest, they have melded together into a new beautiful chorus of emotion, that I had never known in life, that will accompany me forever.

[forHISglory]

Yes, I write and publish.

I've written even before I could write! To explain that oddity: I used to make up stories and songs, and my mother wrote them down for me. She still has those scraps of paper, but then a mom's job is to love the kid's writing!

I've kept journals and notebooks of poem lines, story and article ideas, starters, and so forth. Starting in junior high, I entered contests and won several. One year I won a placing in both the short story and poetry categories for "Writer's Digest". A couple years ago, I won a writing contest and the prize was a shopping spree at a jewelry store. Whee..........

I could paper my office walls with rejection slips, but there is no thrill like selling a piece. I have sold poetry, short stories and articles.

Now don't get the idea that I am famous (I'm not), rich (I'm not),
or dazed with fan mail (I'm not). I have delusions of writing far more than I actually do, but it's a goal to actually make time to just sit and WRITE!!

I taught college composition for years and that was when I did some of my best writing. I wrote along with the students and we all shared our writing.

Please don't tell the world that I am a little crazy, but I create my best dialog when I walk around talking to myself. I get my characters talking out loud and then I can capture their conversations more realistically. I try to be careful of too much description for description's sake and rather let the character interpret the setting. Sometimes I don't even know what the setting and character will be like until I let them out to speak! (just my little quirk).

Here's what I struggle with: plot. I get stuck in plot lines. Does that happen to anyone else? How do you solve?

Anyhoo...... if you see me writing long posts on FV, just chalk it up to my writer's soul.

By the way, here's an idea for a FV challenge. Someone could throw out an opening line, and the rest of us could write a few paragraphs to follow it. Would be interesting to see where it goes!

[Sara Noel]

We used to have a never-ending story feature on the Web site. It's a great idea.

[forHISglory]

OK. Let's do it! I'll volunteer to start us off with a story challenge, if OK. Anyone want to try?

[Momto2Boyz]

I'd be up for it!

ForHISGlory, as far as plot lines go... that is always the hard part for me too, so that is where I start. The characters come easily for me and are usually formed in my head, so instead of starting with my main character profiles, I start with pages of notes and ideas on plots. I usually end up with a few, then I narrow them down and pick the best. Then I start on my character profiles, setting profiles, etc. I write hundreds of pages of notes before I even start writing!

It's better now that I try to use my computer for most of it, I don't have tons of paper sitting around! But my family still finds it funny, when I am in line at the grocery store and come up with a plot twist or idea for a character and have to stop and write it all down before I forget it!

Oh, and I talk things out to myself too! There is something about vocalizing things that help the brain organize itself! I just think of it as part of the creative process...as long as I don't start arguing with myself...I'll be fine!

[forHISglory]

Momto2Boyz:
Be watching for another thread where I'll set up the challenge.

And I can just imagine you in the grocery aisle.... whipping out your paper.....

[thriftstorequeen]

Dear Momto 2boys, Thanks for sharing! I enjoyed it very much. It's funny how it was something that I had just gone through this past week. I was putting some papers away in a scrapbook my girls compiled for me when I turned 50. i began to read what each of my children shared and had a "good" cry again. We are empty nesters now and we live on a lot with a woods in the back. I love to walk in the woods and I enjoy nature very much. I've loved each stage of my life and look forward to what the Lord has next for me. I write in a journal and have started a story using events from my husband's family's past and as well as mine. I've put it down for some time maybe I'll get it out again. All of my kids are wonderful writers and I enjoy reding what they write when they share it. For Mother's day this year my daughter wrote me a song and played her guitar and sang it to me. What a wonderful gift and I'm so thankful she shared it, as I am that you shared yours.

[ShawnaRae]

I really love your idea of using songs. I like to encourage my children to write. We will have to try this!

I keep a dream journal. When I first wake up, I write everything I remember down. It's not the same as writing stories or poetry, which I used to do often, but it is a creative process for me. I love it! I sometimes read a dream to my DH.