We Da Writers! discussion

...Sometimes, life isn’t all it’s cracked up to be. Sometimes it’s just easier to be dead and gone, your spirit free and soaring the skies. But-
And that’s the big word. But. Everything has a but to it. Everything. There’s always an ulterior motive, a scandal of some sort. Give me a statement and I’ll give you a but for it.
‘’Dogs bark.
But not if they’ve been killed.
Mothers always love you.
But not if you were the reason they were imprisoned and tortured.’’
But I’m going off topic. Just re-read the top sentences and continue. Sometimes, once you’re dead, you stay right where you started, wandering the Earth as one of the not-quite-dead. That’s me. My name’s Blue Moonstalker and I am a member of the undead.
‘’And the winner is...Samira Solomon!’’ the teacher announced. My best friend, Lira Townsend, cheered loudly. “Yay, Sam!” I rolled my eyes and stood up. I’ve always had a talent for writing, even when I was young. Now I was winning the high school story competition, even though it was only my very first year at this high school, who’s name I could never remember. I walked up to the podium, staring with a bored expression on my face at the headmistress, a nut job of a woman. She beamed, or I think she meant to. It looked like she was grimacing, like an animal in pain. I stifled a smile at this thought and held out my hand to shake her greasy, smelly, hands. Eww! She handed me the trophy and I plastered a fake smile on my face and waved to the crowd. Most of them didn’t care, a few clapped half-heartedly. I shook my head and walked off the stage to the outside grounds, breathing in deeply.
“Harold!’’ I groaned as I saw my father, cooking dinner. He grinned at me. “I made turkey with cranberry sauce!” I rolled my eyes. “Harold, two things; One, it’s not thanksgiving and we don’t even celebrate thanksgiving anyway, and two, you said tonight was KFC night!” He shrugged and kept stirring the delicious-smelling sauce as my other dad, Benji, walked down the stairs.
Okay, this might seem weird to you, but I’ve lived with it all my life. I have two Dads, Harold Flight and Benjamin Solomon. Harold’s my actual dad but Benji was with my mother when she had me, so my last name’s Solomon too. When Mum went weird and killed herself, Harold and Benji joined forces to help my childhood along, so Harold moved into Benji’s mansion... ...I can see what you’re thinking. My fathers are not gay (Not that I have anything against gay people, I’m not a homophobe ya know!) They just wanted to give me my best chance, but you should hear some of the rumours spread around. Dear God! I wasn’t popular to start off with! All the smart people are outsiders. Think of the cool people being on one side of a door, and the nerds on the other. If you’re even remotely smart, the door shuts itself and you’re never getting close to the egotistic maniacs who think they’re awesome.


(Feel free to spot typos and help out, etc)

that's really good missy!! i think that the dads joining forces to help the childhood of sam is great and i think thatyou are absolutly right with the door metaphor, i mean c'mon we all know populars and the nerds who are rejected by them *puts hand up to admit she's a nerd*

Yeah, I'm a nerd too. The door metaphor's one way to put it.

XD Thanks! This was an unusual one to write. It's...unique.

I slumped on my bed after dinner with a sigh. "There's nothing wrong with KFC" I muttered as I pulled up my laptop and started writing.

I should explain. I write novels. They're never published but my librarian enjoys binding them and placing them on their shelves under an alias, Blue Skye. I liked the idea of Blue as a name. I think it suits me. Skye, not so much. But...the librarian's word is law, y'know? Not to mention I started writing at ten, so I wasn't interested in a name that suited me properly.

sounds a bit like you...

Yeah. I base my main charries on myself most of the time.

you must be a bit self-centred

^^ Maybe. It just makes it easier to write when they have feelings like you.