Early one morning--and by early, I really should say 11:45 am--all hell broke loose in M's brain.
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:
http://lessthanthreebooks.com/
http://hayleyghoover.blogspot.com/
Wednesday, November 16, 2011
Friday, May 13, 2011
P Feels like an update
Written in improperly formatted comic book script form, because P is a nerd.
Page 1:
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.
Page 3:
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.
Page 4:
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.
Page 5:
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.
Page 6:
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.
Page 7:
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!
Page 1:
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.
Page 3:
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.
Page 4:
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.
Page 5:
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.
Page 6:
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.
Page 7:
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
M has been inspired.
I received a text from P late last night, and somehow woke up with a song running through my head that reminded me of an event that took place last week. I mashed the two. This was the result.
Because I'm lazy and it's hard to do screenwriting format in a blog post, I'm going to pretty much disregard proper formatting entirely.
This scene is based on a true story.
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.
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.
M, N, and P (voices)
When I was a young boy, my father took me into the city... to see a marching band.
Fade up on a red stoplight. There is one small white car sitting at the intersection, and the light won't change. There are three teenage girls in said car: M is at the driver's seat, N is in the passenger's seat, and P is in the backseat. They continue to sing along melodramatically, and improvise where they don't know the words.
M, N, and P
He said, Son, when you grow up, would you be the savior of the broken, the beaten and the damned? He said, will you defeat them? La la la, and all the non believers, the na na na na na na... Because one day, I'll leave you, a na na, na na na in the summer, to join the Black Parade....
Musical interlude. They sway. Pause. The music picks up. They dance.
M, N, and P
Da na na na na na na na na na na na na na, na na na na na na na na na na. Na na na na, na na na na, na na na na na na, Na na na na na na na na na naaaaa... WE'LL CARRY ON! WE'LL CARRY OONNNN. Na na na na! Na na na na na na, na na na na WE'LL CARRY ON! WE'LL CARRY OOONNN. Na na na na! Na na na na na na, na na na na... Da na na na na na na na na na na na na na, na na na na na na na na na na. Na na na na, na na na na, na na na na na na. Na na na na na na na na na naaaaa... WE'LL CARRY ON! WE'LL CARRY OONNNN. Na na na na! Na na na na na na, na na na na WE'LL CARRY ON! WE'LL CARRY OOONNN. Na na na na! Na na na na na na, na na na na NA NA.... Na na na na na na na na na, OHHHHH! Na na na na na na na na na, OHHHHH! Na na na na na! Na na na na na NA! NA! Na na NA! Na na NA na! Na na NA! Na na NA na! Na na NA! Na na NA na! Na na NA!Na na NA na! Na na NA! Na na NA na! Na na NA!Na na NA na! Na na NA!Na na NA na! Na na NA! Na na NA na!
Key change.
M, N, and P
Na na NA! Na na NA na! Na na NA!Na na NA na! Na na NA! Na na NA na NAAAAA.... NA! NA! WE'LL CARRY ON! WE'LL CARRY OOOONNN. Na na na na! Na na na na na na, na na na na NA NA WE'LL CARRY OOOOOONN Na na NA! Na na NA na! Na na NA! Na na NA na! Na na NA! Na na NA na NAAAAA....
The light finally turns green. M presses the gas and they zoom through the intersection.
M, N, and P
WE'LL CARRY ON! WE'LL CARRY OOOONNN. NA NA NA NA NA NA NA NA NA NA NA NA NA NA NA WE'LL CARRY--
A unicorn runs out in front of the car. They all scream. M brakes, but not fast enough. They hit the unicorn.
As the song ends, they sit in the car in shocked silence, gasping, staring forward.
MY CHEMICAL ROMANCE (on radio)
WE'LL CAARRYY OOOONNNN!
To be continued. By whoever wants to continue it.
Friday, February 4, 2011
Well...
Seeing as no one else has posted, I guess I will. I've been working on this idea for a story for a while now, it's really rough and not that good, but what the hell. I'll go for the gold. I have a character I thought of today who's really been interesting me. So far as I can tell (seeing as she hasn't quite been developed yet), she's about 5' 2" or 5' 3", with wavy/curly short, dark brown hair and bright blue (Elijah Wood) eyes. She's pretty rebellious, it seems, a smoker, but is sweet as well as edgy. Oh, and she's a drug addict. I don't know which drug exactly, it's been bouncing between pills and heroin, maybe both. It's not like I said "I want a drug addict character," it's just how it played out in my head.
She seems to have a hard past, probably with some kind of medical history or family problems, but as I said she just kind of popped in my head today and is currently taking over my thoughts, it seems she needs to form completely. I don't know if your guys' processes are like this, but mine certainly is; that's why I mostly just write characters. Her name is Annalise Avery Vaughan, but she goes by her middle name/family name, Avery. So, that's about it for now, just thought I would tell you all. Let's see where this goes!
Monday, January 24, 2011
Half of a phone call:
Something that P wrote at work because she was bored. Possibly based on a true story.
Much like M's character picture, you guys get to decide what this means:
Posted by P
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
Introductions
Commence the Got Plot project:
WHO ARE WE:
Six writers, all female, ages 16-19, living mostly in California except for A and B, who live in New York and Oregon, respectively.
I suppose, technically, A and B still live in the same small town in Northern California where the six of them grew up, but they're in college.
L is in college, too, but she's still in California.
P used to go to college in California, but she got kicked out/left and is currently awaiting her inevitable acceptance to Southern Oregon University. Which is really all the better for you, P, since your state school was 80% female, 90% Greek life, and has the highest sexual assault rate of any school in the nation.
Let's see, of those who remain, M is in her final semester of high school, and N is a Junior.
Also, A and M are sisters.
A and M have known L since they were toddlers.
B and P have been friends for (?) years. I think they met at church.
M and N met in middle school.
Everyone except L is a musician (are you a musician, L?)
Sometimes A directs plays which she forces B and M and P to perform in, and sometimes N is a stage manager, and sometimes L comes to see these plays.
A and L like to read manga, and N does too sometimes (don't deny it.)
And it makes A very happy that L's initial is L, guess who her favorite manga character is.
P is a cosplayer who joins fandoms for the sake of the costumes alone, and once she sewed a big dress.
M is a vlogger.
All except N watch Doctor Who (all in time).
M and P and B watch Stargate.
We all love Harry Potter.
So, that done...
WHAT ARE WE DOING HERE:
This project was a recent brainchild of P and A. Collaborating between the six of us, we will write a thing. A fictional thing. With plot and stuff.
The first few weeks will be spent on world-building and character development, and then all systems will go.
There will be no deadlines (or A will explode and B will get mad), but there will be some sort of rotating contribution roster which we will figure out later.
Unless we're going to alphabetize it, in which case it would go
A
B
B
L
M
N
P
We could even reverse-alphabetize it.
P
N
M
L
B
A
Or go by age.
A
P
L
B
M
N
Or by last name.
N
P
L
B
A
M
Anyway, now is not the time to decide this. Now is the time to throw out impulses. I'd like to begin with a photo that M sent me a couple of weeks ago, with the message "I found a character."
Well, guess what?
I found a character.
Who is he? What does he want? Why does he move like that? How does he move like that? Look at him. Look at him now. And now. Look at him all the time.
And GO!
Posted by A.
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