Wednesday, November 16, 2011
And by hell, I really should say pure unadulterated excitement and madness.
M had just sat through an excruciating hour of geology class, fought her way through the wind and rain back to her dorm, taken a shower, and then wandered glassesless back to her dorm room to settle down at her laptop and watch another episode of Supernatural. Moments after she had pressed play (and seen Hammond of Texas unexpectedly appear on her screen, but that's not important), suddenly, her phone buzzed.
1 NEW MESSAGE - TWITTER
@hayleyghoover: So, uh, loyal followers of my blog? You may want to head over there sometime soon. There might be something posted that you'll want to see.
M nearly jumped out of her skin. She'd been receiving mobile updates from Hayley for well over a month now, waiting in anticipation for an Exciting Announcement that Hayley had been teasing about for some time. Flailing in her chair, M went to Hayley's blog.
There, on the blog, was an announcement for a book. A real, actual book, to be published in 2012. Filled with stories about love and friendship and the Internet. And what was even more exciting, was these stories could be written and submitted by ANYONE.
M began pacing her room trying in desperation to think of a good idea for a story. She wanted it to be different from anyone else's, something that would stand out. Not just some cliché long-distance romantic relationship story. Something else. Something with substance. Something with plot.
Skimming the rules and guidelines on Less Than Three Books' website, M read:
Write a short story about love—be it platonic or romantic—that deals with the Internet in some significant way. (Maybe the characters discuss Facebook or meet on Skype or write blogs. It’s up to you.)
(Then M actually literally knocked her laptop off the desk by accident. Holy shit. The laptop's okay. That's really not important to this chapter though. Just thought it should be shared.)
But M had realized something. She and her friends DID write blogs. They wrote one blog together, using the collaborative format to bridge the long distances that separated them during the school year. And what was more, this blog was a story! A story based on their lives! A story with zombified unicorns and car accidents and My Chemical Romance lyrics!
The only problem was, this story had lain long forgotten for some months. Also, it had no plot. Yet.
But M was determined to bring the Blog back, to form a coherent submission to Less Than Three Books, collaboratively created by the Got Plot sisters. A, B, L, N, P, you in?
For more information:
Friday, May 13, 2011
Panel 1: Above shot. The car. The dead unicorn, its limbs twisted in strange angles.
Panel 2: Looking through the drivers side window. M in unconscious. Her head on the steering wheel, glasses lopsided, a trickle of blood running from her temple down her forehead.
Panel 3: Through the passenger window. N is also unconscious.
Panel 4: Through the back windshield. P is also unconscious.
Panel 5: Still through the back windshield, the unicorn standing up, shakily, horn pointed directly at the front windshield.
Page 2: One panel, two pages. Inside the car. The unicorn rams its horn through the front windshield, directly at the viewer. Glass explodes inward. Glass SFX: SCHGRAGCK! Title on this page once we think of a title.
Panel 1: Ground level, by one of the car's tires. Glass falls to the ground. SFX: KWINK. KWINK.
Panel 2: Through the broken windshield, we see N's face.
Panel 3: Still through the broken windshield. N wakes up. She is disoriented.
Panel 4: N's eyes widen in fear.
Panel 5: N's POV, we see the Unicorn. It is obviously dead. It is obviously going to stab M. It is obviously a ZOMBIE UNICORN.
Panel 6: Through the windshield again. N SCREAMS.
Panel 1: Zombicorn's POV. Everything looks red and distorted in Zombicorn vision. We see M. We hear the scream. The scream sounds distorted (SFX: AIIUHEEEEEEEE).
Panel 2: Zombicorn POV. Zombicorn turns to look at Screaming N.
Panel 3: Zombicorn POV. Zombicorn rushes at N. She is struggling against the seatbelt, her SCREAM trailing off as she runs out of air.
Panel 4: Zombicorn POV. It's almost reached N. She looks terrified. One of her arms is out of frame.
Panel 5: Blackness.
Panel 1: N's POV: The zombicorn looks over at her.
Panel 2: Close-up on N's hand. She reaches in the back seat, grasping. There is a lot of random objects in the back seat, including A TIRE IRON.
Panel 3: Her hand closes on the tire iron.
Panel 4: Close-up on N's seat belt buckle, which she's trying to unlock with the other hand.
Panel 5: The seat belt release is jammed. Seatbelt SFX: KIC-KU.
Panel 6: Outside the car. The Zombicorn has its front hooves on the hood, and is leaning into the car through the shattered windscreen.
Panel 1: Inside the car. We see the zombicorn and N, its horn inches from her chest, her arm raised high.
Panel 2: Close up on the tire iron as it WFWOOOshes through the air.
Panel 3: Outside the car, looking at N's window. Black-blue-silver unicorn blood PLTCH's all over the window.
One panel: Black. We hear the BEE BEE BEE of a heart monitor.
Page 8: One panel. Int. Hospital room. From above the room, we see A, M's sister, sitting next to M's hospital bed. She's holding M's hand, and is slumped over in the chair. She is asleep.
Okay, guys! That's all that I've got! It's up to you to continue this sorry excuse for a story!
Saturday, February 12, 2011
The opening tune of "Welcome To The Black Parade" plays as there are opening credits on a black screen or something. We hear three girls--for the sake of simplicity, we will call them M, N, and P--singing along, melodramatically.
Friday, February 4, 2011
Monday, January 24, 2011
Much like M's character picture, you guys get to decide what this means:
“Okay, Mom, don’t tell me that a new transmission is going to cost twenty thousand dollars. My new transmission is not going to cost twenty thousand dollars.
“Yes. I know that. But—
“No, Mom. Let me finish what I’m –
“Well I’m doing it myself. I’m not paying someone to—
“Listen, Mom. It’s manual.
“Yes. I know what I’m doing.”
“Okay, don’t tell me that. I’m not going to steal—
“You mean the guy who stole the tractor? Yeah.
“No! Mom, listen. Normally, rebuilding a transmission doesn’t involve going to court.
Posted by P