Thursday, August 11, 2016

My Stupid Writing: Story Teaser

I've decided to start posting story pieces here in order to motivate myself. 

In order to feel like I am producing something and getting it out there.

I really, really, REALLY suck at self-motivation. :'-(

And I will re-edit things endlessly until I die from old age, 
or die from boredom with my own writing.

So just posting it up here may help me move forward.

Here is a story teaser.

Then I will post chunks of the story as easily downloadable pdfs.

I feel like pdfs are easier to read than blog posts, 
because you have to read blog posts backwards.

But I could be over-thinking this...

**Let me know if you prefer these as blog posts or as pdfs.**

Well, anyway, here is the story teaser for 
"Maple's Fantastic Stories: The House of Coventry."

(p.s. If you already read the part of the story earlier we started before 
- it will be a little bit different this time.)


First Thoughts…
The Gassy Turtle.

I wanted to start this novel off with complete nonsense, and I think I accomplished that with the words: “The Gassy Turtle.”
That’s one thought.
I think if I ever opened a pub it would be called “The Gassy Turtle.”
That’s a second thought.
My third thought is that I wanted to write - “The Gassy Turtle” - as the first words of this prose so that it would immediately bring to mind a flatulent chelonian. Also, I suppose if I named my pub - “The Flatulent Chelonian” - that might sound super-cool and posh.
But then again I don’t think that name could appropriately be applied to a pub. It’s not really a “pub” kind of name. More of a fancy restaurant kind of name. Like the kind of place with five Michelin stars and a chef from France.
(Okay, my fact-checker says that there is only a maximum of three Michelin stars. But clearly my restaurant would have five because it would be that special.)

The Hook…
Aka - a part from the almost-end of the story picked out by the author in order to try and shamelessly grab your attention.
The year is 1872.
Well, the year in this particular place at this particular moment of the story is 1872. But I must admit that as we move forward we will jump around quite a lot in time.
The place?
The British Raj, aka Queen Victoria's India.
The narrator?
Sarcastic and annoying. But that's probably obvious by now. Also, it’s important to recognize the fact that I am also a genius. Jfyi. 
My name is Maple Twiggs, and I am the author of this atrocious book.
The camera sweeps in from above...probably on like a really big crane, or a helicopter. But we'll have to make sure that you can't see the shadow of the crane or helicopter for this shot in the imaginary movie in my head, because there aren't actually cranes or helicopters in 1872.
At least I don't think there were really big cranes in 1872...we'll ask the fact-checker about that one.
We find ourselves next to the Great Hedge of India, also known as the Customs Hedge - as it was a part of the 2,500-mile-long Inland Customs Line. This was a barrier set up to prevent salt smuggling, which hindered the "proper" collection of the exorbitant salt tax imposed by the British on the Indians. The East India Company initially set up the tax and the line, but they both continued to exist under crown rule.
What exactly was the Hedge?
Good question - I'm glad you asked. It was a 1,500-mile growing wall that divided India for approximately 50 years before the colonial government deemed it unnecessary once they controlled all of India. It had a staff of over 14,000 men to maintain and guard its border. The hedge itself was usually about 8 to 12 feet tall and 4 to 14 feet thick - a mass of gnarly, thorny, creeping plants. And where plants wouldn't grow – tall piles of dead prickly branches. And where branches weren't available - good old-fashioned stonewalls.
Our main heroine and hero are backed up against this Hedge, this huge living oppressive barrier, trapped as we look down upon them for the first time.
The heroine?
Stella is a flat-chested, black-haired, brown-eyed sixteen-year old girl who grew up most of her life in Los Angeles. She somehow manages to be both pale pasty-white and tan at the same time. I'm not sure how that's possible, but it's how this freak looks.
The last ten years of Stella's life have been largely unremarkable except for her proclivity to accidentally give herself paper-cuts on any notebook she touches. Also, she can never pour herself a drink without spilling it all over the kitchen counter - that's also kind of noteworthy.
For the last six months, however, she has been quite remarkably unhealthy and prone to migraines, nosebleeds, blackouts, and passing out in public restrooms. (That last one does not come highly recommended.) Also, she can't remember the first six years of her life. That may also be important to tell you.
The hero?
Archie is a weird dude who refuses to tell us his age, because he says he doesn't have an age.
What kind of freak doesn't have an age?
Stella and Archie are destined to fall in love, so we'll just ignore the fact that he is probably way-way-WAY older than her. I mean - if we acknowledge that fact this story becomes really kind of creepy.
But if it helps any - Archie is really, really good-looking, so I think we can all look beyond the potential pervert factor and just get lost in his dreamy eyes.
The last ten years of Archie's life have been rather perturbing and at times quite dramatic. But if I tell you about all of that right now - you won't have a reason to keep reading this thing. So instead I will do that really, really annoying thing that authors do and just blatantly withhold information from you, dear readers.
You're welcome.
As a teaser - Archie knows why Stella can't remember the first six years of her life – but he hasn’t quite told her about that. So you can’t know about it yet either.
You're welcome, again.
Pressing our heroine and hero up against the Hedge, and closing in from all sides (except the side with the huge hedge, of course, thank you story consistency) is an army of eyeless, soul-less creatures. Each one is a pile of black rubbery ribbons that lurches forward like walking, chewed bubblegum - stretching out toward Stella and Archie. Hundreds of them ooze forward like gobs of thick spilled ink across a slightly tilted desk. But imagine the tilted desk as the landscape of India.
The creatures have been sent by their Master to capture our heroine and hero - but they will probably try to eat them in the process.
Their bad.
But heroes are just the tastiest little morsels, amiright?
Here comes the dialogue, brace yourself:
"You're so beautiful," Archie says to Stella as he squeezes her hand and smiles.
"If you honestly believe that - you must be missing half your brain," she replies as she smiles back at him.
They step closer together. Archie wraps his arm around her waist, and gently caresses Stella's face with his hand. As he goes in for a kiss, she closes her eyes. He rubs his nose against hers briefly, and she smiles. Then he presses his lips against hers.
The creatures, just a few yards away from our embracing couple, scream bloody murder like crazed crows as they shoot out their black chewing gum arms toward the couple and enclose them in a sphere of rubber.

            Stop the presses.
I must have written that up there ^^^ when I was in a weird mood. Or a good mood? No. No. I don’t have good moods. A body snatcher must have shown up and wrote it with my hands while my brain was screaming: “No! No!”
I just re-read that crap, and I can’t imagine how in the world I wrote that sappy crud.
This is how that up there ^^^ would have actually happened:
Here comes the dialogue, brace yourself:
"You're so beautiful," Archie says to Stella as he squeezes her hand and smiles.
(Archie: Wait, I just said what? Maple, I’m not going to admit that I think Stella is beautiful willingly, and out in the open like that. And I’m way too shy to squeeze her hand. Who wrote this? They don’t know me at all. Is this fan-fiction? They need to study the characters more.
Maple: I wrote it, apparently.
But I now realize it is all crap.
Back to the dialogue…)
"If you honestly believe that - you must be missing half your brain," she replies as she smiles back at him.
            (Stella: Ahahahahahahaha.
                                    What is happening here?
                                                Is a guy touching my hand?
If a guy is actually touching my hand - I’m not going to be able to form an actual sentence in my brain and say it to him, never mind try to be cute with it. And then top it off with smiling back at him? No.
I’m going to be too busy weeping, sobbing, and crying inside my brain in panic.
                                                            Who wrote this stuff?
It’s crap.
Maple: Yes, yes.
It was me. I wrote it. But I know now it doesn’t work at all.
I don’t know what I was thinking.)
They step closer together.
(Stella: Um. No. None of that is happening.)
Archie wraps his arm around her waist, and gently caresses Stella's face with his hand.
(Archie: I can’t do that. I can’t touch her without her permission.
Stella: I just. No. I would be laughing hysterically in a fit if a guy wrapped his arm around my waist.
Are you insane?
Plus he’s too polite to even touch me.)
As he goes in for a kiss, she closes her eyes. He rubs his nose against hers briefly, and she smiles. Then he presses his lips against hers.
            (Stella: I’m done.
We’re re-writing this, right?
I don’t want everyone to be reading about my first kiss like they found my diary under my pillow.
                        Is there no such thing as privacy???
                        Archie: That was your first kiss?
                        Stella: I didn’t say that.
                        Maple: You kinda did just say that.
                        Stella: I mean…I just…let’s re-write this, okay?)

This is the story of Stella and Archie.
Well, it’s really a story about me writing my story about them. I don’t think we should disregard the fact that some poor sod had to write the story of Stella and Archie.
And that poor sod was me.
But yes, the whole story about Stella and Archie is in here.
And some other stuff, too.

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