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Is the phrase "Once upon a time..."
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Monthly Writing Prompt
For this month's writing prompt write a scene using the following sentence to start;

The streets were deserted. Where was everyone? Where had they all gone?

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Look Back

When not able to write ahead, it helps to look back. In my case I had written a paragraph ahead of the story. What I needed to do was add a section of exposition (talking) presenting some facts. In going back, I realized that I could insert a section where a 'tour' of the surroundings could be done. This allowed for character interaction, story development, and other things that enabled me to present the facts in an entertaining manner.

One should not face a writer's block with the mentality of bursting through it. I have found in my own experience that a writer's block is usually due to my mind indicating that it has a problem in 'channeling' the story. One reason might be a re-imagining of certain story points. Another reason however is that there is a problem in where you are at in the story, so you need to look back and find out the problem with the 'journey' that prevents the tale from advancing.

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 Finding the Pieces

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Number of posts : 334
Age : 26
Location : I'm one of the voices in your mind
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Registration date : 2008-09-25

PostSubject: Finding the Pieces   November 25th 2008, 7:36 pm

This is my novel called Finding the Pieces and its basically about this being who is different people. As you will see in the first chapter. This being doesn't know who he really is and always find himself traveling to different places. He can be anyone a child or an adult. He can be any mental state normal, mental,etc. And he doesn't have just turn into someone else and come out of the restroom that he walked into while be Frank. He can be Frank walk into the restroom and then be in some hotel room in Mexico while Frank was in Florida.
Courier New is the font I'm writing it in so yeah.

Finding the Pieces

Chpt 1

He was a young boy, probably nine or ten, pale and dirty. Mud caked onto his clear, smooth skin. Blood mixed with mud on his cotton t-shirt and battered khaki shorts. He had no shoes on and he held in his small hands a pair of arms. They didn't belong to him or anyone; he just liked them. They were hairy arms, manly arms, and connected to them were the biggest hands he had ever seen. He liked them and he was going to keep them for his collection.

He was an odd child to be seeing wondering the Southern streets. He was only half the height of the corn stalks. That's where he normally would be, hiding in the corn stalks finding things he liked.
But today he walked on the black and cracked street happy with what he found. Then he saw up ahead a rusty truck or tin bucket as he called them. The tin bucket sputtered and spurt,but stopped gracefully like an old ballroom dancer who forgot the steps and remembered the ending.

A woman came out; she wore a purple blouse and tan khaki pants. She wore pencil heel boots and she had the rosiest lips. She took a good look at the boy and she saw the arms.
The boy was ready for a fight, these were his arms.
“What do you have there?” she asked nicely like adults always do.
“Arms,” he replied.
“Arms, and who do they belong to?”
“I don't know, I found them there,”
The woman seemed only to smile and she walked to the tin bucket. She opened the door. The boy normally would leave, but something about this woman intrigued him and his senses.

The woman came out with wrappers of yellow, pink, green, and red.
“I have some candy, so how about you come into my truck,” she said.
“Why would I want to go in the rusty tin bucket?” he asked, “Doing perfectly fine on my own two feet and a few pieces of candy won't intrigue me.”
The woman smiled. She had figured it out. The boy wanted to know why the woman was so smart.
“Then, what do you want?” she asked.
“Why are you asking me?” he replied, “You're the one trying to kidnap me.”
“What's your name?”
“Cinder, why?”
“My name is Catherine...funny name for a boy,”
“I named myself,”
“Where's your family?”
“You're nosy, they're dead,”

The boy became irritated with the woman and her questions. The woman was playing cat and mouse with him. He didn't appreciate it. He wasn't some kid who had a mom and dad. He wasn't one of those kids to fall into a trap because he had the security of mom and dad.
The woman sighed and she was about to walk back into her tin bucket.
“Actually, there us something I would like,” the boy said.
“What is it?” the woman asked.
“I would like to now why I travel to different places,” the boy replied.
“What do you mean?”
“I don't know what I mean.”
“You're a strange boy.”
“And you're a strange woman.”
“Well, I can help you.”
“Can you?”
“I'm a brain scientist or a neurologist so yes I can.”

The boy liked the word. It was a big word, but not to big that he couldn't pronounce it.
“And how will you help me?” he asked.
“Easy we'll scan your brain,” she replied.
“Does it hurt?”
“Not an ounce.”
“Fine I'll get into your tin bucket.”
The boy walked to the tin bucket and clasped his small little hands on the little side step of the truck. The woman smiled.
“Can you get in?” she asked, “You are only nine after all.”
“I'll manage”

The boy climbed into the tin bucket. For being so old on the outside it smelled new in the inside. The seats were made from fabric and were quite comfortable. The boy looked at the woman as she walked into the tin bucket.
“Where are we going?” he asked.
“A very big city,” she replied as she started the car.
“Does it have a name?” Cinder asked.
“New York,”
New York, Cinder thought, Where have I heard this name? Cinder remembered picking up a magazine in the cornstalks. He closed his eyes and saw the header Want a vacation in New York. He opened his eyes and he watched as they passed the cornstalks.
“Goodbye forever,” he told them silently.

Cinder and Catherine didn't talk much. Catherine was to busy on the phone talking business stuff and driving. Cinder watched as they passed the many boring farms with cow pens and chicken coops. Cinder sighed this ride was to long for him. He rather be walking around right about now. The truck stopped at a gas station.
Catherine handed Cinder some money.
“By yourself a snack,” she said.
“All right,” Cinder replied.
Cinder walked into the gas station and looked at the many pleasing items. Pork skins, kettle cooked potato chips, skittles, and many chocolate bars. Cinder didn't know what to get he was almost overwhelmed by everything. Cinder walked to the drink section.

Sodas, waters, and juices. There were so many brands and so many flavors. Cinder knew he had to hurry up. What for I wasn't given a time restraint, he thought.
Cinder grabbed himself a juice and paid for it. He walked out and nothing looked familiar for a second.
That's right I am in California, Shell Gas, and taking a shopping trip with my wife, he thought.
Wait was that correct? Wasn't he in the South. He shook his head he was over thinking things.

“James dear, hurry up before the stores get crowded,” said a unfamiliar voice.
Wait it was familiar, it was his wife. Wasn't it. James shook his head and walked to his wife. Long blond hair and blue eyes. Fair skin and smacking on gum.
“Coming,” he said.
James walked into the red luxury sedan and sighed. He really didn't want to spend the weekend shopping with his wife. He was more an outdoorsy kinda guy. He would canoe down the American river and he would go skiing in the winter. James preferred to be outside.

But his wife loved clothes and he would do anything for his wife. He didn't want to buy her love, but he didn't want to push her away. So many couples these days push each other away by never spending time together. It had nothing to do with her spending her money all it had to was the time the spent together.
“James, are you feeling okay?” his wife asked as she opened the door of the passengers seat.
“Fine..I got cranberry juice,” James said.
“All right cause if you aren't you tell me and we can go back home,” she said, “I love cranberry juice.”
“I'm fine,”

James turned the key of the car with a heavy sigh. He was having those memory lapse issues, wasn't he? For a second there coming out of the gas station's store he had forgotten his whereabouts, his wife, and his life. He had read something about memory problems as men aged in one of his magazines. As they got older most men began experiencing memory issues. But that couldn't be the case here could it.

He was only twenty-four, his wife and him had recently married. His job could be a lot better, he was always getting hassled by the manager. But then again the manager wasn't exactly the most purest man on the planet. He was known for firing most of the male workers, so that way he had more female workers. James sighed he thought to much, he stared at the traffic light that was a fresh yellow, he slowed down, and watched it turn red. It was best it did.
“I am James, I am twenty-four, I recently married Susan, I work at Big 5, and I am trying to get into graphic design, I weight 119 pounds,” he said.
“James, what are you doing?” Susan asked.
“Just trying to make sure that my head is clear and has all the right information,”

Susan stared at him with her big, blue eyes. She turned back to the front window and stared at the crosswalk. Then something sparkled in her eyes at that moment as she saw a stray dog cross the walk.
“Tidas, he dug up a pair of arms today,” Susan said.
“Well he is a Labrador I expect him to do those things,” James said easy his foot on the gas peddle as the light turned green.
“Yeah, but what are a pair of human arms doing in our backyard?”
“Human arms, were they real?”
“You don't seem phased by this...and yes they are real,”

“What do you have there?”
“Arms, and who do they belong to?”
“I don't know, I found them there,”

James pressed on the break as hard as he could.
“WHAT ARE YOU DOING ARE YOU CRAZY?” Susan screamed as they came to a screeching halt.
“What kind of arms...male or female?” James asked.
“We are in the middle of the road James people are honking at us,”
“Quick just answer the question,”
“What did they look like?”
“What does this have to do with something?”
“Something in my head Susan says I know those arms,”
“Are you some serial killer James?”

“That's right James, the arms are used pull yourself up, what are some other functions of the arms class?” she asked.
She smiled as many students raised their hands, it must have meant that they were studying. It made her proud to know that she got these students to want to learn.
She crossed her legs in an elegant fashion. She was curvy, with dark skin, and long black hair. The woman were jealous of her natural elegance and beauty.

She slightly swung her chair side to side as she pondered, which student to pick on. The milky vanilla door opened and the principal. A tall, unfit, and grubby man, walked in. He smiled at her. He was always fascinated with her. So she didn't get up.
“Mrs. Andres, I need a word with you,” he said.
“In here or out in the hallway, Mr. Phishing?” she asked.
“In the hallway would be best,”
She got up and stared at her class.
“Talk about the anatomy of the human body and I'll be right back,”

She passed the vanilla walls that had been decorated with her students excellent grades and work. The kid friendly posters of math smiled at her with this grin, as if they really knew what was going to happen to her. Guadalupe sighed.
She walked into the hallway, which was plain and had the ugliest orange lockers she has ever seen. She stared at Mr. Phishing.
“Mrs. Andres, I'm sorry to have to tell you this, but we have to let you go,” Mr. Phishing said, “I have heard cases from the other teacher's that you are harassing them.”
“Mr. Phishing I have not harassed any of the teachers...”
“Please call me Steve,” he said.

His hand was on her ass and he thought she was going to let him continue. She moved out of the way.
“The only reason you are firing me is because I won't flirt with you and won't let your hand on my ass,” she said.
“Mrs. Andres, I'm sorry that we have to let you go, if I could I could let you stay for dinner possibly,”
“I am not sleazy Mr. Phishing I'm not going to eat dinner with you or sleep with you for my job,” Guadalupe paused,
Mr. Phishing didn't seem to like that as answer, his eyes flashed with anger, she could tell. Mr. Phishing stared at her.

“I want you to leave now,” he said, “We can get another teacher to fill in your place...hope you sleep well Mrs. Andres.”
Guadalupe glared at Phishing and then walked into her classroom to grab her purse out of her desk. As she opened the desk she felt her students eyes on here. They probably eased dropped into the conversation, she didn't look at them back. She was already upset and didn't want to bring that anger onto her students. Well they weren't her students any more.

As she grabbed her black leather purse she hadn't realized the zipper was not closed and her contents spilled out. She saw the mirror her mother made her fall on the floor and heard the glass break.
As she bent down to pick it up she saw in the reflection of the mirror a young boy with dark hair holding a pair of arms, a man with light brown hair with his wife in a car,she saw herself on the bottom right corner, and then on the left bottom corner a shadow.
Who are they?, she thought.
We are you, but who are we?
No you see I'm Guadalupe Andres. Me Guadalupe
What is me? Who is me?
Who am I?
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PostSubject: Re: Finding the Pieces   November 25th 2008, 9:19 pm

Ok.. I read this.. and there are some issues.

It's strange, that much I'll give you. What is the target for this work?
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PostSubject: Re: Finding the Pieces   November 25th 2008, 10:25 pm

Urs wrote:
Ok.. I read this.. and there are some issues.

It's strange, that much I'll give you. What is the target for this work?

My target is for those who are confused on who or what they are.
As I said before this is a being who transforms or becomes different people all the time. The 1st chapter was kind of the boring, you understand the condition this being is living.
The second chapter will begin to pick up on the pace. This is suppose to be a very violent story full of violence, discovery, and confusion.
What kind of issues? SPAG issues?
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PostSubject: Reply   November 25th 2008, 11:39 pm

The problem with the piece is the limited presentation. While you move between a number of personalities, the style of presentation and speech remain the same. The other characters also come across the same. For a story attempting to establish itself by a number of scenes, the repetitive sameness of each causes them to blend into a bland mash.

Oh, and there were a number of mistakes. I bothered to note the following -

“I would like to now why I travel to different places,” the boy replied. KNOW

“By yourself a snack,” she said. BUY

Cinder didn't know what to get[;] he was almost overwhelmed by everything. Inserted semicolon.

But then again the manager wasn't exactly the most purest man on the planet. MOST PUREST? It should be either PUREST or MOST PURE.

Truthfully, the subject is a good one for a beginning writer. I agree it would be good to attempt a number of different character types - only DO DIFFERENT CHARACTER TYPES. Don't do the same thing with supposedly different characters and settings. Get to work. Be creative.

Fantasy puts more requirements on the writer than any other fiction, because the world must be made as real before anything else can be real.
Adult Christian fiction quite different than all the usual lame stuff in that market.  "Dilemma of Dreams" now in hard back.
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PostSubject: Re: Finding the Pieces   November 26th 2008, 1:08 pm

As I said Chapter 1 is only learning the terms and the conditions. Chpt 2 will get more hectic.
And I saw them as different people and different personalities. I don't understand how they aren't.
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