My Fixers Project

Hey guys!
So since the summer, I've been working on this project for Fixers. In case you were unaware (which you almost certainly are), Fixers is a organisation that helps young people to, in the words of the website, use 'their past to fix the future'. The website is here: http://www.fixers.org.uk/home/about.php
So I've been working on this for a bit. It's about Ehlers Danlos Syndrome, which is a chronic illness that I have.
I first wrote a short story for it, that was then adapted into a short film.  The story can be seen below. As the film is only supposed to be about five minutes long at most, it isn't a very long story. Only around 1100 words, which is fairly short for me.

'I have always considered parks to be some of the worst places to visit. Granted, there’s grass, and trees and lovely flowers, but there’s also a lot of people. And I really don’t like being around a lot of people.

My brother, Mike, is the complete opposite to me. He’s already gotten into a conversation with a woman near the lake.

I grimace and lean back against the bench. He’s crazy. My hand absently starts to trace the gap between the wood on the bench.

“Ow!” I yelp, pulling my hand back. A tiny splinter of wood has taken it upon itself to embed itself into my finger. I scowl, and inspect the tiny wound.

I can barely see the splinter, but I can certainly see the blood starting to leak from it. Tiny splinters are the worst.

“Katie,” Mike runs over to me, “What’s the name of that tree over there?” He pointed to the tree in question.

I raise an eyebrow. “It’s an oak tree. Why?”

“No reason!” Mike runs off again, returning to the woman. I should probably be concerned that he’s talking to a total stranger, but he can take care of himself. Besides, I can still see him.

I yelp slightly, as my back twinges in pain. I reach back and rub the spot. It doesn’t help much.

I sigh. Maybe I’ll go and sit on that other bench. It’s closer to the lake, so I can keep an eye on Mike better. Besides, lakes are fun to look at.

I stand up, and a wave of dizziness forces me back to a sitting position. “Great.” I mutter under my breath, and I pull my wheelchair closer. I hate having to use it, but ever since we came on holiday to Cornwall, I’ve been finding it difficult to do anything else.

I stand up, and transfer to the wheelchair. I sigh in relief once I’m sitting down. The chair is far more comfortable than that bench. The twinge in my back seems to be fading a little.

“Hey!” A voice sounds behind me, and I turn. A tall boy, perhaps my age or a little older, is standing there. He’s surrounded by other teenagers, both male and female.

“Nice chair! Sure you need it anymore. You seem to have been healed!”

I feel my face heat up, but I force down my anger. It’s not the first time I’ve got that response from someone, and it won’t be the last. Don’t listen, just go.

I begin to wheel away, but I can still hear them yelling as I go away. “Miracle, miracle!” They chant, and continue to do so as I get further and further.

Mike seems to materialise next to me. He always seems to know when I’m in trouble. He glares over at them, but turns back to me quickly. “Need any help?” he asks.

I nod. “Would you help push my chair?” I ask. I can feel my wrists starting to ache from the strain.

He nods and takes a hold of the handles.

“Don’t listen to them, Katie. They’re just idiots.”

I give him my brightest smile. “I know, Mike. I don’t mind.”

He doesn’t look convinced, but leaves the subject alone.

***

I sit on my bed. The room is empty, far more empty than the one at home. But then again, my bedroom is exceedingly messy. So this is probably better.

I sigh and stare at my hands. I have literally never realised before how much I bite my nails. Wow. Impressive stuff. Mum got the splinter out once Mike and I got back from the park. It’s a little sore, but not too bad.

I cringe at the memory of the park.

No matter how many times people say things like that to me, they’ll never stop hurting. I still stand by what I said to Mike earlier, I know those kids were just idiots who didn’t understand what they were talking about. But that doesn’t mean that it didn’t hurt. It just means that I don’t hate them for saying it.

I sigh. “Mike.” I say.

“Huh?” Mike appears in the doorway, and I hide a smile at his oh-so-intelligent response. And the fact that he was definitely listening in. The paranoid wombat. “Yeah?”

“Do you think that I’m making things up?” I ask.

He frowns. “No, of course not. Why would you think that?”

I shrug. “No reason. I guess I’m still a little worked up from earlier.”

“They really upset you, didn’t they?” He sits on the bed beside me.

“A little.”

“Oh come on, it was more than a little.”

“Okay, a lot. But it doesn’t really matter.” Even though I brought it up, I still don’t want to talk about it.

“Look, Katie, you’re not making it up. I’ve seen you, remember? I’ve seen you fall over after nearly passing out. I’ve seen you start to limp after just a few minutes of walking. I know you are not making anything up.” Mike seems convinced. Me, not so much.

“But what if I’m making things seem worse than they are.” This is something I’ve thought about a lot. I often worry that I’m just exaggerating, and I don’t even realise I’m doing it.

“Nah. I’d know if you were.”

I roll my eyes. “Why, because you’re an expert in Ehlers Danlos Syndrome?”

“No. Because I’m an expert in you. We’re twins, remember? I know everything about you, and you know everything about me. That’s just how it works.” Mike grins and I laugh.

“I guess so.” I say. My voice is soft.

“I know so.” He looks at me, right in the eyes. “Look, don’t let people like that bother you. They don’t know anything about you. If they did, then they’d agree with me!”

I shake my head at him. “Since when did you become all mature?”

“You know, I really don’t know. Oh no. Maybe you’re rubbing off on me!” He makes a face. “Oh, the horrors!”

I burst out laughing at his antics. “Oh, I don’t know. Maybe you’ll finally stop talking to random strangers if I continue to rub off on you.”

“Hey,” he says. “There’s nothing wrong with that.”

I just shake my head at him.

Maybe he’s right. Maybe I really don’t make things up. I wish I could know for certain, but I guess it’s not so bad. At least I have an brother who’ll tell me that sort of thing. I might tease Mike, but I can’t imagine life without him. I don’t even want to.'

This was, over a period of a few months, turned into a screen-play. Because of my complete inability to figure out how computers work, I couldn't put the screen-play itself into this article, but if you really want to read it, I could probably find a way. Anyway, today, we filmed the video.

While the video is not yet finished, below are some of the pictures taken by my mother during the filming. Well, technically, the photography, as the film will be pictures with a voice-over.

There's me on the left side, then my brother and the photographer. In case you couldn't tell, I was attempting to stay hidden from the camera. As I was supposed to be in the photos, this was a particularly complicated endeavour.

Here's my little sister and the photographer. My sister is using my wheelchair here.

Me and my dad. The photographer was working with my sister.

I'll put the video up once it's ready, which should be in around two weeks.

Next week, however, I will be putting up a post about the first stage of the editing process for a novel, and how I've gone about it with mine. Until then, however, I bid you farewell.

Sparkly Thoughts

So, I was having a conversation with my mum earlier today. We were talking about conversations. Heh. A conversation about conversations.
Ahem. Sorry.
That is actually exactly the topic that we eventually got onto. Sparkly thoughts. My mum said that I often look bored or miserable during group conversations. I said that I wasn't bored, I was, in fact, very interested. Except I was constantly distracted by sparkly thoughts.
She asked me to clarify.
Essentially, what I mean by the aforementioned sparkly thoughts, is that I can be having a conversation. I can be listening closely. I could even be interested. But then along comes a new sparkly thought.
I find that new thought so fascinating, that I proceed to follow it off into the sunset. For example, I may be talking to some people about a new film that just came out. Then along comes the sparkly thought. It's about caterpillars. I, being intensely curious, follow the thought. It leads me off, until I end up thinking about 'The Hungry Caterpillar'. Then I start reciting 'The Hungry Caterpillar' to myself. Then somebody asks me a question.
By this point, I have been zoned out of the conversation for a while. I have no idea what they're talking about. I just know that it's unlikely to pertain to 'The Hungry Caterpillar'. I stammer for a while, before asking them to repeat themselves.
Thus, everyone seems to think that I am extremely bored by them. I am not. The caterpillars are simply a sparkly thought.
Sparkly thoughts can come in all shapes and sizes. They do not have to be about caterpillars. But they are extremely distracting.
Think of the White Rabbit from 'Alice in Wonderland'. I'm Alice in this particular scenario. Along comes the White Rabbit, wearing a waistcoat. I am fascinated by this White Rabbit, and particularly fascinated because of its waistcoat. Normal rabbits don't wear waistcoats. So, off I follow the White Rabbit, finally falling down a rabbit-hole.
This is exactly what a sparkly thought does. It leads you off, into a rabbit-hole.
An example of this that just happened to me occurred at the end of aforementioned conversation. I can't remember where the conversation had gone by this point, but I was deeply engrossed. Then the sparkly thought came along. This thought surrounded vampires (no, the fact that I speak of vampires and sparkles in the same blog-post has nothing to do with Twilight), and the fact that they would, if they really existed, need a special vampire dentist to take care of their blood-sucking teeth. I then thought about the fact that it must be a terrifying prospect to be a vampire's dentist, as one would constantly be terrified of being killed by said vampires. In this manner, my thoughts wandered off.
This is a perfect example of a sparky thought.
So, if you are one of the people to have the misfortune of knowing me, when I zone out, or ignore you, know this. You are not boring me, nor are you uninteresting. I am simply too distracted by the White Rabbit of Sparkly Thoughts to pay you any attention.

Do you have any experience with Sparkly Thoughts? If so, comment below, and tell me about it. 

Top Ten Weird Words

Ah, words. A writer's best friend. But, while most are useful and help you craft amazing stories, there are some that are incredibly bizarre. Below is my top ten picks for weirdest words. In no particular order, let's get on with it.
10. Yclept
This means 'By the name of' or 'called'.

9. Wanweird
This means 'Misfortune' or 'An unhappy fate'.

8. Honourificabilitudinitatibus 
This means 'With honour'.

7. Pogonotomy
The act of cutting a beard.

6. Runcation
Meaning 'the act of weeding'.

5. Gongoozler
This means 'an idle spectator'.

4. Zenzizenzizenzic
Meaning 'A number raised to the eighth power'.

3. Abecadarian
Meaning someone who is learning the alphabet.

2. Adoxography
Skilled writing on an unimportant subject.

1. Hippopotomonstrosesquipedalian
According to the Urban Dictionary, this pertains to a very long word.

You may, of course, go ahead and use these in your writing, but beware. Most people won't have the faintest idea of what they mean. Which can be both awkward and hilarious.

What's your favourite weird word? Had you heard of any of these before? Comment below and let me know!

Story Cafe: Defying Expectations.

(http://it.wikipedia.org/wiki/Lavorazione_a_maglia#mediaviewer/File:Frans_Koppelaar_-_Mother.jpg)

See, here's the thing. When writing a character, you need to defy expectations. Whether it is by writing an interesting damsel-in-distress, or a knitting needle-wielding granny, you want your characters to pleasantly surprise the reader.
Let us take our knitting needle-wielding granny, for example. We'll call her Rosa. Rosa likes to knit. In fact, she is a champion knitter. World renowned. But in the night-time she puts those skills to a completely different use. Assassination.
How much more interesting is that, than a simplistic grandma that spends her days (and nights) knitting and being a sweet old lady who'd never hurt a fly? Significantly more. That's the answer. I want a story about Rosa, not that lady. Rosa naturally creates a conflict in the story. Whether she is the protagonist or the antagonist, she'll drive that story.
That's what your character should do. The conflict in the story should react to them, not the other way around. They should drive the plot.
Of course, that doesn't mean that there can't be conflict that our main character just happens to land in. However, they still have to drive the story. They have to be in charge.
Take Katniss Everdeen, from The Hunger Games for example. Yes, the Hunger Games have gone on for years without her. No, she didn't start it. But her conflict began because she volunteered for the Games. And that's interesting. Because it defies expectations.
Would you really expect a teenager to volunteer to go into a killing game? No, you would not. You understand that isn't normal (unless you're a Career, which is a completely different thing) so when Katniss volunteers to take her sister's place, it matters much more.
Even after she volunteers, she drives the story. Her actions control what happens in the plot. I won't give away any more spoilers, however.
It can be the character defying expectations in that way, or just in personality. Or in their job, like Rosa. You can have so much fun with it. And it doesn't have to happen at the beginning of the story. Sure, that pulls the reader in, but you could have a character that didn't defy expectations right up until the last minute. It might be difficult, but it'd be cool and unexpected.

So what are your favourite characters that defied expectations? Did you agree with what I said above? Comment below, and let me know! 

Bout of Books

Hello readers! This month I shall be doing the Bout of Books Read-a-thon. This is basically a challenge to read more than I normally would in ten days. I'm starting a little late, but it shouldn't take me too long to catch up. It was supposed to start on the 12th of May, but I'm starting on the 13th. It will end on the 18th of May.

Below is a basic layout of what I'm going to do, using the template provided on the Bout of Books blog. Here's the link: http://boutofbooks.blogspot.co.uk/p/faq.html#GoalTemplate

Time Devoted to Reading

Everyday, hopefully. 

My Goals

I will be reading three books. I would have more, but I have four exams next week, so I shan't have much time. I will aim to update this blog everyday, with how far I've gotten in the Read-a-thon. 

Books to Read

• 'If I Stay' by Gayle Forman,
• 'Severed Heads, Broken Hearts' by Robyn Schneider 
• 'Out of the Silent Planet' by CS Lewis

Short Story

So I was given a few words as a prompt for a short story. This is the story that was build from that. Hope you enjoy it. 

Words:

Love

Knife

Battle

Pain

Sunlight

Dya shifted the bag slung over her shoulder, as she squinted through the sunlight at the ground. Stepping carefully, she managed to get past the mud without too much trouble.

She kept her eyes on the ground though. If she didn’t, she would see It.

She felt a hand on her shoulders, and glanced up. Hal was watching her, his brown eyes gentle.

“You okay?” he asked cautiously. He had every right to be cautious after he almost received a knife to the face.

When she had awoken following the battle, he’d been there. And he’d been the one to tell her that her brother was dead.

She hadn’t meant to throw the knife. It had left her before she realised what she was doing. Then she’d cried. A lot. She’d scared him. She knew that well enough. All she could think at the time was that her brother, that she had loved so much, was gone. And it hurt. It really did. It still did. But she couldn’t let that stop her.

She was here to do her job. To save the lives that were still able to be saved. To save other people’s brothers.

She sent him a nod.

She turned back. She raised her eyes to look. She wished she hadn’t.

It wasn’t the sight of the other healers rushing back and forward. Or even the broken standard lying on the ground.

It was the bodies.

So many bodies. None were alike. They ranged from very young, barely more than children, to old. It wasn’t surprising. Death doesn’t differentiate.

And the blood. It had mostly soaked into the ground and dried now. It was still visible though.

Dya felt sick. She could barely stand to think of her beloved brother falling alongside all these others. What had it been like, she wondered? Had he died quickly or slowly? How many of his friends would he have seen die? How much of the battle had he seen, before his death?

She shook those thoughts out of her head. They would do no good to anyone. They certainly wouldn’t help her grief. And they certainly wouldn’t help any of the wounded.

She scanned the battlefield.

Her eyes were drawn to an old man, maybe sixty, lying facedown in the mud. She didn’t what drew her to him, as he wasn’t moving, but she was drawn.

She knelt by his side, and sighed in relief as she spotted his chest moving. Up and down. Up and down.

She placed her bag down and opened it, pulling out bandages and various other medical implements.

“Hello?” she asked gently.

He didn’t answer.

“I’m just going to give you a quick check, that alright?” she said. She remembered what her teacher had told her about unconscious people. To keep talking to them.

So she did.

Later she found out that he was a grandfather. And the sight of the joyful reunion between the man and his family, made her own pain feel better.

Word Count: 500

Sorry!!!!!!!!!

Alright, so I haven't been on for a while. I completely forgot about this blog. But I'm back now. Please ignore any previous posts. I have looked back and they're embarrassingly bad. So, now I've deleted them. Woohoo!
So, from now on, there will be writing advice, random posts, sample chapters, character bios and just plain bizarreness. I will also, at some point, explain my theory for unicorns being evil. Because they really are.
So. Current story.
Legends of the Raven is a series of books about the fictional world of Kialasur. I am currently writing the first of this series. Well........still planning actually but planning takes a lot of work!
I have yet to name the book, perhaps someone else can come up with a title.
Characters: Lessa Traigh and Rory Mesdin are the main characters.
Plot: In a world torn apart by war, where one half indulges in cannibalism and human sacrifice, whilst the other is desperate for peace and believes in the values of Love and Faith, two young people from either side will be the key to uniting the nations and bringing down the Emperor once and for all.
Course, there's more to it than that, but that's the basic gist.
Hopefully, I'll have some written soon so that that I can put some samples up on here, but it might be a while.