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Author	Topic: The Writers' Guild
NYCitygurl Title: Manager of SFFBC, C&G, and NSWFF Registered: Jul '02	Date Posted: 8/25/06 2:48pm Subject: RE: The Writers' Guild
	Also, be sure to make sure your main character isn't a Mary Sue/Gary Stu. In other words, they can't be perfect, or the ideal hero with maybe some dark past. Make them have faults and doubts and hestitations. In other words, make them have regular human emotions. -----signature----- Master of padawanlost, Ultima_1, Jedimaster_JainaSolo, and Vaders_Angel
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DarkPrince Registered: Nov '05	Date Posted: 8/25/06 3:46pm Subject: RE: The Writers' Guild - Date Edited: 8/25/06 4:09pm (3 edits total) Edited By: DarkPrince
	Alrighty, just to give you guys an update. I've been working on the first chapter since last night and what I've done is, I've written down my ideas into story form with the characters...etc. I hope you guys can help me out with this. I really want to get into this and I think I really have an interesting idea. So, I'll set that account up and see what you guys think. EDIT: Better yet, I'll just post it here that way you guys can tear it apart. -----signature----- GamePlasma: http://www.gameplasma.com GamePlasma: Now Hiring! PM ME FOR DETAILS! Gamertag: Restless Devil
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DarthBobbalot Registered: Mar '02	Date Posted: 8/27/06 1:42am Subject: RE: The Writers' Guild
	Hello, all. I have been wanting to write a book for a long while now, and only recently actually sat down to writing it, and have finished the prologue to it a little bit ago. Would this be the place to post it or get someone to critique it or is there another forum for actually posting your stories? I have the major plotlines figured out, but i always, ALWAYS, have a hard time just sitting down and actually writing. I always open up ms word and scroll to the end where i left off, and just feel empty, and not want to write. Anyway. Am i in the right place? -----signature----- In the *Official* Andalite-Bandit cult. "Idle hands spend time at the genitals" - Drippy "Kif, set a course for that blackish, holish, thing" - Zap Brannigan The greatest weapon is knowledge. And laser beam eyes
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Sanctimoniously Registered: Dec '05	Date Posted: 8/27/06 8:12am Subject: RE: The Writers' Guild
	Yes, you're in the right place. Let's see it. -----signature----- In For a Quick Garden http://www.myspace.com/sanctimoniously
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DarthBobbalot Registered: Mar '02	Date Posted: 8/27/06 11:48am Subject: RE: The Writers' Guild
	Post it all right here? Its like five pages... oh well. here goes. Should i post a detailed plot summary as well later on? I have to work for the next 9 hours so i wont be back to read any feedback or say anything else about it until then, but i will say one thing about it for now: I wrote this prologue in a rushed manner, not trying to delve deeply into anything too much because it is the backstory of my story, and i dont want to have much focus on it, i just want to lay down a few story plots that will be vital to the story later on. So that is why it may seem rushed. So here goes. And dammit, it unformated my indents lol. ******* Prologue The night brought on a respite from the murkiness of the day, a cooling breeze flowing through the open mahogany windows to rustle papers on the cluttered desk in the middle of the room. Crickets chirped, providing a monotonous and relaxing music to drown out the worries of daily life. The stars were out in full, brighter than they had been in a long while, after a long month filled with hot monsoon rains. This day had seen the last of the rains for a brief moment in time, providing a glimmer of hope of things to come. The signs had been read. Fortune was smiling upon them today. Father Julius turned from the window with a heavy sigh and plopped down in the chair at his desk. Since the day the prophecies had been read and confirmed, his life had become much more complicated. Preparations had to be made in order to make sure everything proceeded carefully and flawlessly. He had sacrificed a lot in order to accommodate what the prophecies foretold. As his thoughts moved towards all of his present toils, he reminded himself that everything had happened the way he wanted and nothing he could do would improve anything. The night was late and the best thing he could do for himself right then would be to go to sleep and get a fitful rest for the next day. Time was drawing nearer. The prophecies would be fulfilled and then all his work will have paid off. Father Julius ascended from his chair and walked to the door of his study to head to his dormitory. As his hand grasped the handle, a hurried set of knocks rapped the door before him. He opened the door to a gasping monk with sweat beading on his forehead, probably gained from a dead sprint to the study. “Father!” he shouted between breaths. “Father Julius! It’s happening!” The monk had a worried look on his face, as if something was terribly troubling him. He looked into Father Julius’ eyes pleadingly, hoping that he would know what to do and take over. Father Julius gaped at the monk and then offered incredulously, “Now? It’s happening now?” At the rapid nodding of the monk’s head, he added, “It’s too soon!” A concerned look came over his face as thoughts coalesced through his mind, but composure found a hold upon him again as he realized that he had to take control of the situation. He looked back down on the panting monk and laid his hand on his shoulder. “Thank you for telling me. Everything will be fine. I will see to it personally. Go and get some rest now, everything will be fine.” With that, Father Julius closed the door to his study and rushed down the stairs past the monk. “It’s too soon,” he muttered while taking the stairs as quickly as he could. “This can’t be good for him.” His pace quickened. “All this planning…” He rushed past a startled maid and paid no heed when she nearly fell over when he shouldered the load of laundry she was carrying. “They better not mess this up.” He reached the end of the stairwell and walked speedily towards the room he was searching for. As he stood outside the door, he whispered, “Light bless his soul this night,” and entered. The room was well lit with a large fire roaring in the corner. Three young women with apprehension written on their faces glanced at him and instantly curtsied with a deferential, “Father.” Father Julius looked at them and nodded and put all attention to the main attraction of the room, the bed. A young woman lay there, sweat pouring down her beet-red face. She moaned and cried out in pain suddenly, and then started to pant wildly. A plump, aged woman with numerous warts dotting her face looked towards him and frowned. “Ah, yer grace!” she stated in a highly sarcastic voice. “What timely fashion ye choose to bestow us with yer presence.” She squeezed the woman’s hand that was on the bed and brought all attention back to her. Father Julius ignored the lack of respect in the midwife’s tone. “There has been much preparation for this day, but it is too early! Can’t you do anything to stall it?” The fat lady looked back up to the Father and lost all politeness in her voice. “Oh so ye wanna be pushin’ him back inside, do ye? Well then come on over here and do it yerself! Yeah! Just shove the little feller right back inside then if ye want since yer the experienced one in this room, apparently.” The birthing woman gave off a loud scream which brought attention back to her situation and the midwife resumed her duties with a sidelong look back at Father Julius. “This baby’s comin’ tonight, yer grace. Nothin’ ye can be doin’ll change that. Now let me do what I do, and ye go wait outside for me to tell ye to come in.” Without a word in edgewise, Father Julius was ushered outside with muttered apologies from the maid servants and screams from the young woman on the bed. As the door slammed shut, he looked around and went to a bench nearby and plopped down feeling helpless. “Lord, save those whom are your people and lead them to salvation…” Hours later, with the dawn’s light nigh approaching on the horizon, the screams from the small room changed from that of a woman to that of an infant. Wiping grit from his eyes, Father Julius rose from the bench, opened the door, and looked at the other people who had gathered to witness the newborn, and slowly entered the room. One of the young maids was on the ground, passed out, one was standing over her fanning her with her hands, and the other was standing behind the midwife with a joyous smile on her face. The old crone had her hands held to her heart with a look of happiness beaming down on the newborn. “Have ye ever seen such a beautiful baby boy?” remarked the midwife. The mother looked at the old woman with strain in her eyes, but looked like she would go through it all again, and more, to bring forth what she had cradled in her arms. “What’re ye gonna name him, darlin’?” “The prophecies do not mention any names,” Father Julius noted absently, staring at the little child with awe. “You are free to name him as you wish.” “Well o’ course she can name him as she wishes!” the midwife exclaimed. “It’s her babe, not no one else’s!” She looked back to the mother who didn’t hear a word that was exchanged. “Jeaceech,” she simply stated. “His name is Jeaceech.” There was a profound moment of silence when the baby momentarily ceased his tirade of crying as if recognizing his own name already. He looked around the room for the first time, noticing everyone there, then looked at his mother and closed his eyes, fast asleep. “What a darlin’ little feller ye got there! Yer the luckiest woman alive.” Father Julius looked at the women in the room one by one, the passed out maid still out cold, yet the rest were all focused upon the newborn and the mother. “She is right. Jeaceech will be a name remembered on all eternity. Your son will be one of the most influential men in the world, and will make you very proud. The prophecies state in clear terms the importance of your son’s role, however difficult it will seem.” Father Julius looked away in pain, obviously recalling what exactly the prophecies stated how perilous this boy’s future will prove to be, but also noting how important it be that he fulfill his destiny. “Nevertheless, those difficult days are far ahead in the future. I will leave you to rest, now.” As Father Julius turned to leave, he was almost barreled over by an agitated monk, clearly out of breath from running a far distance, again. “Father!” he shouted at him from mere feet away between breaths. “Father! They’re here!” He managed to gasp that out before he suddenly jerked and fell back, his eyes rolled up into his head, dead. As the body hit the floor, the maid who was watching over the one who had fainted screamed at seeing a dead body, and was abruptly silenced when a bolt hissed forth from the hallway and erupted in a fountain of blood as it firmly planted itself in her neck. She went down to her knees, clutching her throat as her precious blood flowed freely down her hands, all the while choking and gurgling, trying to breathe. Father Julius looked incredulously at the two dead bodies and then instantly sprang into action. He kicked the door closed and locked it before any more crossbow bolts flew into the room. “It is the child. Somehow, someone knew he was to be birthed here. We have to get him out somehow.” Father Julius spoke in a calming voice, a trait he knew that was anything from what he felt at the moment. “At any cost, we must protect the child.” With that he walked to the bed where a weeping mother cried out and held the still sleeping babe cradled in her arms. “Don’t take my baby!” she cried over and over again with outstretched hands as Father Julius firmly took Jeaceech from her mothers grasp, rudely awakening him. He started crying again, and the obese midwife scolded Father Julius for his roughness. “What do ye propose we do?” she asked, her hands on her hips, her tone almost the same as it usually was except it was shaking, her obvious fear showing through like a spotlight. “Who are these people?” “It doesn’t matter who they are, only that we protect this child,” he said through clenched teeth. All the maids were in shock, the mother was weeping to herself while staring at her child, and empathy shown on the midwife’s face as she looked at the mother. “We have to make it through this; the fate of the world rests on this child’s shoulders.” Without warning, the door was blown from its hinges with black smoke emanating from the edges, falling inward and crashing into Father Julius who fell to the floor, managing only barely to hold the child up away from the floor as he hit, chest first on the ground, pinned underneath the solid door. More screams from the women in the room erupted as two black clad men with drawn swords entered the room, brusquely stomping their way over the fallen door with Father Julius pinned underneath. They wore only black leather armor, cloth covering all parts of their faces except the eyes, and their swords were short and thin, bearing no adornments or markings. They looked around the room, their eyes falling on the screaming maids and the defiant midwife who had plucked the child from Father Julius’ grasp just before they entered. “Who the bloody hell are you?” she asked as menacingly as she could. “Why I have half a mind to take ye both by yer ears and kick yer arses out this door!” “The child,” one of them said in a strange and raspy accented voice. They ignored the groaned protest of the man lying underneath their feet and set their eyes on the midwife. “I dunno what yer talkin’ about, but ye better get out of here afore I get real mad and…” She was cut short as a baby’s cry erupted from behind her, instantly setting one of the men in motion towards the woman, who, when the man was close enough, curtly kicked between the man’s legs, or tried, anyway. The man closed his thighs and caught the old woman’s foot as it was inches away from her target, and brought his sword down upon the woman’s snared leg, severing her foot off cleanly just above the ankle. As she screamed and curled up into a ball, the assailant dropped the foot from its position, and knelt to take the child from behind the footless woman. “No!” yelled the mother as she tried to get out of bed, her stamina reserves almost depleted. “You can’t have him! He’s mine! Don’t take him away! I won’t let you!” She rose from the bed and jumped on the back of the one who was taking her baby, hitting him in the back of his head over and over again. As the sole remaining maid watched in horror, the second man in black rushed and grabbed the mother by her neck and ripped her from her grasp on the man and banged her head against a wall, where she then crumpled in a heap on the floor. The men looked around the room, passed their gazes over the trembling maid still standing in the corner, and they looked at the crying child, and then back at each other. “Kill the rest, no survivors,” the one with the child merely said and then left the room. With a nod, the killer then looked at the now crying maid and the convulsing midwife as well as the groaning priest still below the heavy door, and went to work. “Is it safe to come up yet?” Marta whispered up to her husband through the cellar door. Footsteps announced his presence moments before her husband came back down and fully opened up the trap door and gripped Marta’s hand to help her out of the hole. “Are they gone?” she asked in a shaky and still whispered voice. Herec did not look at his wife but instead surveyed the area outside their ravaged house. “There is no one left,” Herec stated without emotion. “Everyone is dead.” He continued to stare outside through the broken-in door where a lone child lay in the middle of the street with blood pooled around his corpse. Marta shakily went to the door and looked out, first at the boy, then the tens of others lined along the road, her face aghast at the scene. “Dammit, woman, don’t go out there! We can’t see them, but we don’t know that they are gone!” Herec pulled his wife inside again and forcibly sat her down in a corner where she started convulsing and rocking back and forth. He held her there cooing in her ear, saying things like, “It will be alright, we’ll get through this,” and, “Don’t worry, we’ll be fine.” She cried, silently, for minutes on end while he sat there holding her as she rocked back and forth, the corpses in the street feet away not paying any attention. Her quiet sobs slowly became less erratic, along with her breathing, and then she drifted off to sleep. Just after they settled down and began sleeping, a cry awoke the couple. It was a faint cry, but a cry nonetheless, meaning that there was someone still out there. Whether they were being attacked at that moment, Herec did not know. He stood up abruptly, leaving Marta on the ground to get up by herself. Herec went to the door and peaked out, saw no one, and left the building. “Herec!” Marta hissed. “Come back!” As her words left her mouth, she heard the cry, coming distantly but surely. She stood up and joined her husband outside. They both stood there in the open, straining their ears for the cry of an infant. Without a word, Herec went back inside their disheveled home and opened up the cellar door. Marta stared off towards where the sound emanated, and barely noticed when her husband came back, a long sword strapped to his waist. She looked down at his weapon and her eyes widened. “You don’t mean to go and face them!” she screamed as softly as possible. “They killed this entire town! They…” she was cut off as he started walking towards the distant sound of the crying baby. “No! I don’t want to lose you! Don’t go!” Herec walked with a purpose, staying as close to the buildings as possible, out of the open. The blade cleanly sliced a fissure open, creating a bubbling fountain within the man’s neck. He fell to the ground, surprised, and dead. The assassin sheathed his weapon after wiping it on the dead man’s jerkin, and turned his attention back to the distraught baby wrapped in blankets up to and around his head. Stooping to pick up the child, the assassin stopped just before picking up the child in his arms as he heard the familiar sound of a sword leaving its sheath. The assassin straitened and turned around to face the new threat. His eyes met with that of a seemingly stoic peasant with a sword. “You made my job easier,” he stated before he charged the man with the sword, steel flashing as he drew his short sword in one motion, striking at the peasant. Surprisingly, the peasant repelled the attack with grace and riposted with equal skill. They traded blow for blow, the assassin in black going for quick cuts inside the peasant’s guard, but being evaded by the sheer dexterity of the peasant. Analyzing his opponent, the man in black found a pattern that the peasant fell into, and thought to exploit it. Parry, parry, thrust, parry, riposte, feint. Before the peasant went to parry for the third time, the assassin dropped his left arm down to his side to bring forth a small dart concealed within his belt and threw in one motion. The only problem was that the peasant never did go for a parry, instead dropping down to his knees with a sideways sweep of the blade, severing the left leg from the assassin as the dart left his grip and flew harmlessly above him. As the assassin gasped for breath and looked down at his stump, the peasant wasted no time in getting up. He kicked the short sword from the unsteady hands of the assassin and brought his own blade to bear, performing a coup de grâce. “Herec!” came a hysterical voice from down the street. “Herec are you alright?” Herec looked down at the man in black, now lying still, and then towards the screaming baby still bundled to his ears. Sheathing his sword, Herec grabbed his wife tightly and embraced her, looking down at the man he just killed. “We need to get out of here,” he stated simply. “We need to leave, there might be more out there.” Parting from their embrace, Marta looked down at the screaming child amongst the corpses of a few monks and picked him up gingerly. “We will take care of this child, he has no one here.” Marta looked deeply into the child’s eyes, slowly stifling the child’s screams until he looked up at her with wonder. “Marta,” Herec said to his wife as she stood entranced by the baby. “Marta we need to leave.” “Locke,” She stated matter-of-factly. “His name will be Locke. It’s a strong name.” Herec looked from his wife to the baby, and frowned. “Fine. Locke it is, but we need to get out of here. We need to get away from this place now.” Marta nodded while still enthralled by the child’s gaze, and smiled. “Yes. Let’s go.” -----signature----- In the Official** Andalite-Bandit cult. "Idle hands spend time at the genitals" - Drippy "Kif, set a course for that blackish, holish, thing" - Zap Brannigan The greatest weapon is knowledge. And laser beam eyes
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NYCitygurl Title: Manager of SFFBC, C&G, and NSWFF Registered: Jul '02	Date Posted: 8/27/06 5:30pm Subject: RE: The Writers' Guild
	It's fine to post excerpts here for critique, but remember that if it's something you're interested in publishing, you might lose copyrights or have it stolen. Hopefully nothing like that will happen; just something to keep in mind. -----signature----- Master of padawanlost, Ultima_1, Jedimaster_JainaSolo, and Vaders_Angel
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Zonoma Registered: Jun '05	Date Posted: 8/27/06 8:38pm Subject: RE: The Writers' Guild
	In fact, if you hope to publish and want it critiqued first, you should find some where uber private to post it (friends only on LiveJournal is good). The thing is that first publishing rights are hard to defend if you posted on a public message board before submitting it to a publisher. -----signature----- http://zonoma.livejournal.com/
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DarthBobbalot Registered: Mar '02	Date Posted: 8/27/06 11:29pm Subject: RE: The Writers' Guild
	Well. If there were any doubt in my mind as to whether or not i will complete this, then i would by all means keep it entirely private. But since I know myself like I do, I am possitive that I will never fully complete this work. The plot and characters and twists i have planned are awesome, i believe, but i just suck at finishing things like this. I started a star wars story awhile back and got up to 13 pages at maximum. I. Suck. At. Writing. Long term-wise, anyway. Ive written a few short stories that pwned, otherwise i cant stay the course. -----signature----- In the *Official* Andalite-Bandit cult. "Idle hands spend time at the genitals" - Drippy "Kif, set a course for that blackish, holish, thing" - Zap Brannigan The greatest weapon is knowledge. And laser beam eyes
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DarthBobbalot Registered: Mar '02	Date Posted: 8/28/06 8:27pm Subject: RE: The Writers' Guild
	so does anyone have any thoughts/suggestions about it thus far? I showed it to a friend of mine who is a big literary buff and he says that the content is good, not great not poor, but the whole thing has been done before, and lacks originality. I agree with that part somewhat, but i then told him what i planned for the rest of the book and he said that what i have planned seems to be a really good idea. -----signature----- In the *Official* Andalite-Bandit cult. "Idle hands spend time at the genitals" - Drippy "Kif, set a course for that blackish, holish, thing" - Zap Brannigan The greatest weapon is knowledge. And laser beam eyes
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Valyn Registered: Mar '02	Date Posted: 8/31/06 5:10pm Subject: RE: The Writers' Guild
	My only suggestion at this point would be to put spaces between each paragraph when posting it on a message board Anyway, I was wondering if any of you have attempted to get published yet and if you can give me some advice... I've been working on my own novel series for the past 7 years and I've so far got two full length novels and I've started the third. I'm currently revising the first story in the series (thus, turning it into the fifth draft for that particular tale). With it being so difficult getting published through regular means (ie. appealing to a traditional publisher), I started looking into self-publishing. I was offered a contract by Publish America but turned them down because of things I read about them on Google. Authorhouse is also interested, but I read that they fall into the same boat as Publish America. I'm now looking at either Lulu.com or Bookpros. Anyone have anything good or bad to say about these two publishers? Bookpros has been really nice thus far, and they seem pretty realistic about how much this is going to cost (ie. expensive). So I appreciate the fact that they're at least honest and don't seem to be an author mill (a la Publish America). I've also been looking into getting an agent. This seems nearly as difficult as finding a publisher through traditional methods. Anyone got any advice or experience they'd like to share? -----signature----- "You call those fake implants you got boobs? They're not boobs! They're LIES!" -Stewie "It was mostly sweet, and you were the sweetest of all." -Muad'Dib
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Sanctimoniously Registered: Dec '05	Date Posted: 9/7/06 8:58am Subject: RE: The Writers' Guild
	Det er ikke god... -----signature----- In For a Quick Garden http://www.myspace.com/sanctimoniously
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Darth_Bandalak Registered: Aug '06	Date Posted: 9/9/06 6:23pm Subject: RE: The Writers' Guild - Date Edited: 9/9/06 6:26pm (2 edits total) Edited By: Darth_Bandalak
	A new series of books I'm working on, features an arch-enemy type of character. I was wondering if I could get some feedback on his name. From what I have so far, he is suspected of murdering the protaganist's older brother, is a teacher at a private school that teaches how to defend yourself by means of Conjury (a form of Magic), and he is a very curious character that gets into trouble a lot however, by "persuading" others, gets out of trouble on nearly every occasion. What do you think of the name Dawson Van Alentine? The first name I used because of a longlost friend of mine that reminds me of the character mentioned above, and the classic last name "Valentine" changed a bit to become "Van Alentine". It just sounds nice... and it fits the character, I think. -----signature----- Crystal River Fan Force! Han_Solo_321 wrote: "Face it. Mace beat Palpatine."
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Excellence Registered: Jul '02	Date Posted: 9/10/06 5:20am Subject: RE: The Writers' Guild - Date Edited: 9/10/06 5:36am (3 edits total) Edited By: Excellence
	Firstly, check your books and see who your authors are thanking to get some editor names. Secondly, search for agent and publisher directories on the holonet. Collate a list on who to avoid, the traps and pitfalls. But none of that really matters. The most horrifically written books have gotten published regardless. It's who you know, not what you write, and don't anyone yawn tell me otherwise, I won't believe you. To be seriously honest, you'll either need to bum kiss someone or somehow insinuate yourself into a contact's friendship, who has internal publishing ties. There's really no other way to say that other than straight out, as that is how it is. This will involve attending conventions and doing something that will distance yourself from the generic faceless fan, yet without looking stalker or too pushy. Perused Ian Irivine's website yet? No? Bought some "how to publish" guides, yes? They'll explain why you don't want to self publish. Two Vader burps, really: the entire PR lies with you, you don't push your books to stores, they don't sell them. And why would they want to buy yours anyway? How is your tree-killer special? Your chatter box better be good. For they don't say it outright . . . powerful store names can affect whether your book will publish hard or soft cover, if they think they can sell better one way. The other burp, apart from seductive cost, is the image you'll accrue that you couldn't make it through the traditional channels. ------------------------------------- In regards to getting private feedback . . . you could find it a waste of time. Be prepared for the sheep heads who will point out ship lasers are impossible, despite your book having nothing to do with our current primative Earth. You could also find people thinking of Thrawn if they see someone is too smart, again, why they'd think of one man 16yrs ago is anyone's guess. What I'm saying is, sometimes you need to trust your own voice, the one that whipsers that extra cake slice, not concern yourself with other opinions. For the challenge lies in seeing who really advises you for you, and not replies what they would have liked, and a temptuous sea that is to sail. -----signature----- My utilisation of complex locution to ask what's more pathetic, fans who worship their movie actors, or the actors who couldn't give a damn, is more a reflection of my own superincumbent mental actuity than any circumscribed lexicon. Don't you agree?
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Sanctimoniously Registered: Dec '05	Date Posted: 9/28/06 8:44am Subject: RE: The Writers' Guild
	What...in the Sam Hill...is this thread...doing way down here? -----signature----- In For a Quick Garden http://www.myspace.com/sanctimoniously
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Jairen Title: Manager Emeritus Registered: Sep '00	Date Posted: 9/28/06 2:36pm Subject: RE: The Writers' Guild
	Would anyone be interested in turning this into a slightly more formal process. Nothing to indepth, but having a rolling review list where we can submit something for people to critique, and then have people commit to feedback on it? Just an idea for perusal. -----signature----- "How am I gonna get a girl? I drive around in a garbage truck!" - Hellboy Me in a film: http://copperraven.com/movies/ahoweb.wmv
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