Top 10 Writing Influences

For part of my Creative Voice III module we had to come up with our top ten writing influences in chronological order. They could be any type of media, book, film, music, etc. as long as they inspired us to write. So, as I am avoiding doing dissertation work, here is my Top Ten.

1. Disney Films/ Fairy Tales: Okay, this is a bit generic, but I had to pick just one and I couldn't list all of them. My favourite Disney film is constantly changing. It used to be Sleeping Beauty, then The Little Mermaid, then Hercules, and Mulan, and Beauty and the Beast, and The Lion King, and Tangled. Oh, it's just impossible! I love them all! When I was younger I used to read a big fairytale book every night before bed. It used to be my mum's and she had drawn around all the pictures, it is like our only family heirloom, and I hope my kids can read it one day, too. But this book and Disney films inspired me to write my own fairy tales and were responsible for my A* in English for this piece, A Disney Parody.

2. Santa Paws, Come Home by Nicholas Edwards: This is the first book that I read without pictures. I bought it at a book sale at school when I was in year 3, maybe? It's about this amazing dog who gets dog-napped and has to find his way back home. I loved it as a kid and still have it at home on my bookshelf. It inspired me to read, and therefore write later in life. 

Also, who couldn't love this little face?

3. Jacqueline Wilson books: Whenever I used to go shopping with my dad we'd always go to Waterstones and I would always buy the latest Jacqueline Wilson book. I would reread them all the time and still do - check out my post on Lola Rose. My all time favourite was the Girls series, you know Girls in Love, Girls Under Pressure, Girls Out Late, and Girls in Tears. I think I liked them so much because I was probably a bit young to read them and I thought they were a little risqué. I also really related to Ellie, the main character, probably because all her friends were pretty and skinny, and she was more on the piggy side. Others that I liked were The Dustbin Baby, The Illustrated Mum, Tracy Beaker, and Diamond Girls. As I got older the books started to get a bit samey, once you read one, you'd read them all. It seemed like Wilson was churning them out. I soon lost interest. But her books made me realise that stories can help people in need or with their problems, and this is what I wanted to communicate through my writing. 

4. The Harry Potter series by J.K Rowling: This is a bit of a give in, and is probably on everyone's list in this generation. This was the first series I had ever read, I wasn't into reading when I was younger and I actually saw the movie first. It's just inspiring, and that's all I can really say. 

5. Meg Cabot books: When I was in secondary school I remember my friend reading the first The Princess Diaries and was quite surprised because she never read anything. I'd seen the movie and really loved it but I had never bothered to read the book myself. My sister had all of the books in the series at the time and said I should read them. I was sceptical. However, this was my first incident of reading a book and it being so different from the film. At first I was put off. Then I realised that the book was so much better. I couldn't put it down. Soon my sister grew bored of the series and I bought the rest of the books. I remember reading the last one on holiday and it was just a fantastic ending. Some endings to series can be disappointing but this was not the case. I've read nearly all her other books and own most of them, too. I love the Missing series, and especially the Mediator series, which is why I'm so happy to hear that she's writing another one. Cabot's books inspired me to write chick-lit and helped me to progress to more adult fiction like Size 12 isn't Fat. She also writes in lots of different styles like dairies, and one series is done entirely in emails and letters. Since coming to University, however, I realise people don't like chick-lit too much, and have changed my style somewhat. This piece Royalteen was heavily inspired by The Princess Diaries, and to some extent so was The Diary of Lucy Van Helsing.

6. Lord of the Rings film trilogy: This series really got me into fantasy. After watching these films I created my own fantasy world with lots of different kingdoms, knights, princess, witches, and even some magical jewellery.  I wrote so many fantasy quest stories...unfortunately, by computer died and I lost them all. Some I have written on paper still and one day I will type them up again. I have all my drawings of maps, weapons, and clothing still. I used to be obsessed by these fantasy stories and spend all my time writing and drawing. I wish I could be in that mindset again. In a way University destroys the creativity because now I'm so worried about editing and publishing that I'm too scared to write anything in case it's crap. When I was younger I wrote whole stories and thought they were amazing! I have recently finished reading Lord of the Rings and I still think it's brilliant, and I really watch the films again. Extended edition, of course. 

7. Doctor Who TV series: I never used to care about Doctor Who much but the Doctor reminded me of a boy I fancied (who loved Doctor Who) so I used to watch it constantly and pretend I was the companion. I also fancied David Tennant a little bit, too. Apart from that though, Doctor Who is a great example of how to write a brilliant sci-fi story; it has everything you could possibly want - space travel, time travel, and a main character who can regenerate so you can keep the series going even if the main actor quits! Over the years I have come up with a few Doctor Who story lines and would love to be a writer for the show. It was because of this programme that I took the Sci-Fi and Fantasy module this term. I've also met two of the Doctors, Matt Smith and David Tennant. Oh, and that boy I fancied? He's now my boyfriend!

8. The Percy Jackson series by Rick Riordan: I started reading this series in year 10 (I liked converse shoes back then and the book cover was a flying converse). I bought the first two and borrowed the others from the school library. I remember finishing my work early in class so I could read them. I was such a nerd! I reread them over the summer on my kindle and I still love them. I have always been interested in Greek mythology, especially after Disney's Hercules, and these books really satisfied my craving. The books we had at home about the Greeks were really dry and boring, so these were the perfect way to learn and be entertained. This has inspired my dissertation as I want to get kids interested in Gothic Literature. Obviously, with the internet it is a lot easier to learn things, I could just Google Greek myths now. But reading is much more fun. 

9. The Tell-Tale Heart by Edgar Allan Poe: This story seems to have followed me everywhere. I first heard of it via The Simpsons, a very educational source. Then in Art A-Level I was told my subject matter was 'too nice' and should do something more 'edgy'. My art teacher wanted me to do something about gangs and drug culture. Boring! I chose the dark literature route. I illustrated the whole of The Tell-Tale Heart and loved every minute of it. Then in the first term of university I wrote a piece inspired by this story, called Obsession. In the second term I went on to illustrate it. Considering I hadn't been a very Gothic person before, I was really getting into it. There just seems to be a strange affinity with this story, and it has even worked its way into my dissertation too.

10. The Gone series by Michael Grant: I read this series over the summer and oh my God! It is gripping. The last one comes out in April and I am so excited, it is my post-dissertation treat. It has been a huge inspiration for my dissertation and after reading these books I changed my idea completely. Gone was the romcom and instead was a dangerously dark mystery with murder and ghosts. This series made me realise that kids don't need protecting from wicked things, and in fact love to read about them. You can also write about crazy things like mutant powers and 'the gaiaphage' and kids will go along with it. 

Obviously, there are so many more books and authors that have inspired and influenced me, but alas, it was a Top Ten, not a Top 100. If you are a budding writer, I recommend you do this too, it can be quite surprising as to what inspires you most. 

University Grades - The Final Semester

Once again I am posting my grades with links to the pieces so you can read them too.

Year 3 Semester 1
Advanced Fictional Writing: Re-Writing Rationale - 63%
Advanced Fictional Writing: Creative Piece Margaret Jones and the Weedy Dealer - 64%
Writing History Fiction: Essay Why Are the Tudors So Popular in Contemporary Historical Fiction? - 68%
Writing History Fiction: Creative Piece Toil and Trouble - 65%
Comic Books and Graphic Novels: Essay Is The Dark Knight Returns a Successful Novel? - 66%
Comic Books and Graphic Novels: Creative Piece Mr Impossible - 62%

Year 2 Semester 2
Fiction for Children: Creative Piece Royalteen - 66%
Fiction for Children: Presentation - 68%
Writing and the Environment: Creative Piece From Earth with Love - 57%
Writing and the Environment: Creative Piece Gaia's Final Revenge - 58%
Textual Intervention II: Essay All Works of Art Either Uphold the Status Quo or Challenge it - 67%
Textual Intervention II: Creative Piece Mark Desade's Misfortune of Curiosity - 65%

Creative Voice II: Critical Evaluation – 68%
Creative Voice II: Sketches - 67%

Year 2 Semester 1

Media Writing: 1500 Word Critique of Article – 67%

Media Writing: 2000 Word Article Holly's Happenings – 65%

Short Story: Parody Surrealhabilitation – 68%

Short Story: Creative Piece Stockholm – 64%

Textual Intervention: Creative Piece The Diary of Lucy Van Helsing – 72%

Textual Intervention: Rationale – 66%

Creating Short Screenplays: Film Script The German – 64%

Creating Short Screenplays: Essay Film Analysis of Valgaften: Election Night – 65%

Year 1 Semester 2

Creative Non-Fiction: Creative Piece My Doctor Who Experience – 66%

Creative Non-Fiction: Essay – 54%

Creative Voice I: Critical Evaluation – 60%

Creative Voice I: Creative Piece Delirium – 68%

Creativity II: Exhibition Piece Animations – 62%

Creativity II: Evaluation – 63%

Poetry and Poetic Expression: Creative Piece – 64%

Poetry and Poetic Expression: Rationale – 68%

Year 1 Semester 1

Language – Writing – Reading: Essay – 62%

Language – Writing – Reading: Portfolio of Writing Exercises – 53%

Fictional Writing: Creative Piece Obsession – 65%

Fictional Writing: Rationale – 63%

Creativity I: Presentation Evaluation on A Written Affair – 63%

Creativity I: Research Essay on Oscar Wilde – 68%

Script Writing: Essay on Rob Reiner's Misery – 64%

Script Writing: Pitch Presentation – 72%

I recently received my grades for last semester and while they are good I am disappointed with the comments I got. None of them were particularly constructive. They were like 'Good story, but I would have written it with this person as the protagonist'. Well, I didn't, so please mark my work by what I've written not how you would have written it.
This was especially annoying for my Margaret Jones and the Weedy Dealer piece as the marker wrote: 'What occurred to me on reading it again was it could make a great teen (young) book if only Margaret was at home/base camp and Andrew (something I can't read) was the protagonist - doing his mother's bidding because she was (something else I can't read)'.
It's annoying because he's missed the point of my piece entirely! Margaret is this eccentric botanist on the run from a drug lord, it's weird and funny. Having a teenage boy do it is so mundane.
I always used to think I was better at the creative pieces but strangely it appears I am actually better at the essays. I only have one semester left and I am going to try my hardest to get a First again. Hopefully in my ECP.

Creative Writing: The Last Semester

I have been really bad at updating my blog lately. In fact, my last post was a whole month ago! But give me a break, it has been Christmas, and I've barely used my computer. I hardly did any writing which is actually pretty bad for an inspiring writer. Woops! (In my defence, I read a lot though).
But I'm back at University now for my final semester. This is really sad as I have enjoyed every minute and I'm not ready to become a fully-fledged adult. I don't even know what I want to do with my life. Woe. Growing up is hard. Anyway, that's not the point of this post. I have recently revived my new timetable and deadlines. And boy, is it scary.
This term I am doing Creative Voice III (Compulsory), Creative Visions, and Sci-fi and Fantasy.

So, Creative Voice III is all about what happens after the degree. We have to write CVs and letters to publishers and all sorts. There are 4 assignments, one every two weeks that I am already dreading. I didn't mind the last two modules, Creative Voice I and Creative Voice II, but I always freak out when I have a new class. Here is some work that I did for these previous modules: Creative Voice: Little Snippets and Delirium. It is one of those modules where you have to 'evaluate yourself as a writer', something I am not particularly interested in doing.

Creative Visions was a random choice (most of the other modules were script based, bleh!) and I didn't really know what it was about as the module handbook wasn't very clear either. Now, however, I know what it is about and think it wasn't a good choice to make. It's all about global change and society. Things like alternative energy, genetic engineering, population, crude oil etc. And you know who we will be discussing again? Gaia! Like I didn't see enough of her in Writing and the Environment last year. Though, I did enjoy writing stories about her: Gaia and Gaia's Final Revenge. As you can probably tell I am not a big environmentalist and this makes it hard to care about these kinds of modules; therefore I'm not inspired to write, which then leads to mediocre grades. But there is a book on the reading list that I have wanted to read for a while, Uglies. I remember seeing it ages ago in Waterstones and was intrigued, yet a little freaked out by the cover (I was only 13 and didn't like the idea of disembodied people). But now I'm older, and less influenced by creepy book covers, I'll finally get around to reading it! I'm also looking forward to the assignments. They are both creative pieces, so no more essays, hurray! That Writing History Fiction one last term really took it out of me. The first assignment is a creative piece entitled 'How We Live Today', the other is a piece imagining life beyond 2050. Now, this is quite similar to Sci-Fi and Fantasy...

This was the one module I was sure I wanted to do, and hopefully I'll still want to do it once I've started. But the assignment for this is a creative piece set in the near or distant future, maybe 2050? Sound familiar? I've basically  got the same assignment twice! I don't really mind too much, I'm still looking forward to it. It's just I would like to do something a little different; I'll have to write my Sci-Fi one waaaaaay into the future! I'm feeling something Doctor Who-ish coming on...! This module sounds like a relatively easy one, and the lecturer is laid back, too. So, while I'm stressing out about my ECP, Creative Voice III, and the numerous Frisbee tournaments I'll be going to this term, I can relax with a little Sci-Fi and Fantasy. Perfect.

My first lecture is tomorrow (Creative Voice III) and I'm feeling pretty nervous. I then have a ECP meeting with my supervisor to discuss the new beginning I wrote (I'll post it here in the next couple of days). Then, on Thursday I can pick up all my marked assignments from last term, eep!

So, bring on my final semester, it's going to be a tough but great one!

Second Year Complete - Grades and Assignments

I have handed in my last assignments of second year. I am now done! How quickly those two years have gone by, only one left now. It's actually quite sad, I don't want university to end.

So, the three final pieces I handed in today were called From Earth with Love, Gaia's Final Revenge, and a textual intervention piece, Mark Desade's Misfortune of Curiosity. I'll be posting them here in the next couple of days.

Today, I also picked up my grades.

I had butterflies in my tummy as I stepped up to the counter. I thought I was only able to pick up one piece of work but the guy behind the counter handed me three. I waited till I was outside to look. And then I peeked at the grades...

67% 66% 67%

Wow!

I got 67% for my presentation. That's right, I did well in a presentation! Me! I just read through the comments and the only bad thing seemed to be that we read from a script. Not totally fair as she did say we could do that, but whatever. I am so chuffed! I knew making those cakes would get us a good grade.

The 66% was for my Fiction for Children piece, Royalteen. It's a great grade but I'm still a tiny bit gutted. I thought it may be First Class material, but obviously not. The comments were good, it just seems like I need to make my writing more funky, get into the teenage voice more. I suppose this will all help towards my ECP. And this was marked by the lecturer who I thought would be harsh. But she marked this piece and the presentation nicely so I'm not too worried about having her as a supervisor any more.

The other 67% was for Creative Voice, all the Sketches I did. My marker particularly like The House at the End of the Road, so that's good. The criticism was that I should 'show not tell' but I think that's something that everyone does and takes a while to grow out of.

Overall, I'm a pretty happy bunny. Let's hope the other three grades are just as good. 

Collecting Grades = Bundle of Nerves

I actually completed my Writing and the Environment pieces. And I'm pretty pleased with them, hurray!

On the down side I have marked pieces to collect tomorrow...

Getting the grades for work is like a warped kind of Christmas. You know, you can't get to sleep and you're really excited about what awesome presents you may have gotten. That's what I'll be like tonight, lying in bed thinking of all the potential Firsts I may, or may not, get.

I have only got one First before (I got one in the first year too, but that year didn't count). The thing is, I knew that it was First material so I wasn't too surprised when I got 72%. It was The Diary of Lucy Van Helsing, and I felt pretty confident when I handed it in. I haven't really felt like that with any of my other pieces. I once thought my essay was good, but I have come to learn that my essays aren't as good as I think they are.

So, the marked pieces of work I have to collect tomorrow are my Sketches from Creative Voice, that's The Armani Assassin, The House at the End of the Road, Agricolaphobia, and Your Housemate Hitler. I'm feeling a little bit confident, though I have thought about how I could have made them much better, but too late for that!

I also have a presentation grade to collect. This presentation was about a children's book called Secrets, Lies, and My Sister Kate by Belinda Hollyer. I thought our presentation went all right but compared to everyone else's it seemed a little scripted and not super-duper acted. Other people had memorized their entire scripts, or re-enacted scenes, one even used a sock puppet! Personally, I don't think our group should be penalised for not being great actors. We're quiet people and that's how we like it.

The last piece I have to collect is Royalteen. I really liked this piece and I worked hard on all the extra bits, like back story and maps. I'm only worried because my lecturer, who is marking it, is very meticulous. She writes YAF and children's books so she knows what works and what doesn't. She also knows what she likes. So, I am a little worried that she'll find loads of things wrong with it or just not like it at all. She's really nice though, and she's my ECP supervisor for next year so hopefully I won't begrudge her too much if she marks me down.

For the rest of the day I am going to be rereading and doing some last minute editing to my last three creative pieces of my second year. I can't believe I will have finished my second year of university tomorrow! Crazy! Keep watching this space as I'll be posting them soon. 

Sketch - Your Housemate Hitler

This is the final sketch out of the four and is based on voice. We were given the task of writing from different perspectives. First, we had to think of a situation we had been in involving lots of people. I chose a time that was very stressful and upsetting for me and it involved all my housemates. We then had to write about that situation from another person's point of view and in the first person...if that made any sense! After that we had to write the same situation but in the second person (you). Lastly, we had to write it again from our perspective but in the third person, and I'll tell you now, it's weird writing your own name in a creative piece!

So this piece is expanded from the second person one. It is very off-putting writing in the second person for the first time, but also a little bit enjoyable. It's new and different. Tell me if you think it works/you like it. It's also a little bit bitchy (apologies) but it is how I really felt about this situation.

Your Housemate Hitler

You and your housemates have been called into a house meeting. You know you shouldn’t be there but one of your housemates has caused a fuss. She doesn’t like her room and you’re the one to blame. Yes, it doesn’t make sense but that’s life for you. She says that you and your boyfriend have the two biggest rooms and it’s not fair. You tell her you’ve measured the rooms and that yours isn’t the biggest, in fact, it’s only one foot bigger than hers. She doesn’t even have the smallest room. She sits in silence before saying it’s not about the room size. It’s about her condition. She says it’s too dark, she gets SAD, you know, Seasonal Affective Disorder, and she needs a big window, like your one, to get more sun.

Bullshit.

You stare at her across the table, finding it hard to believe what you’re hearing. Last week she was an insomniac, then she was depressed, and now she has SAD too? You say if she wants sunlight that badly she can go sit outside. She doesn’t take that well. She changes tact. She says she doesn’t mind her room at all, what she really hates is your unaccommodating attitude. She thinks you’ve been horrible to her all term; you haven’t met her emotional needs. You tell her it’s only one week into term; you’ve barely even seen her, so how could you have time to be horrible to her as well? Your hands shake from the injustice. You’ve never wanted to hit someone this badly before and you’re not even the aggressive type. There is an awkward silence when no one says anything. Then she comes out with the killer strike.

You are a dictator.

She says everyone thinks it too; they’re just too cowardly to say anything. You look at the rest of your housemates, the ones you thought were your friends; they look down at the floor. Your blood boils and the temptation to leap across the table and throttle your bitch of a housemate is just too strong. You didn’t realise that telling people to do their washing up was on par with Hitler committing mass genocide.

Sketch - Agricolaphobia

Here is my third sketch, it is also the longest one at 828 words. It was originally called Farmerphobia but I realised after I have handed it in that it would have been more clever to do it Latin, hence Agricolaphobia.

This is actually a relatively true story as my friends and I did have dens up by Jo's house. We loved playing in them and many things happened to us while we were up there. One time, we buried a dead mouse and then a few weeks later wanted to look at its skeleton. So, we dug it up only to find piles of maggots. That was not fun. Another time we were climbing in the trees. Well, I wasn't. I hated climbing trees as I thought I would break all the branches. However, Jo and Izzy loved it. Jo was practically at the top of the tallest tree when she fell. It must have been about 30 feet but she only got a scratch on her forehead. It was an impressive feat.

Here's a photo of me and Izzy sitting on the hay bales in the field. We are older in this picture, this was taken when we were about 13. In the sketch we were around 9 years old. 

Agricolaphobia

As a child, Izzy, Jo, and I had a den in the hedges surrounding a field next to Jo’s house. We played in it every day after school, and soon we had made more dens further up the hedges. However, there was one very important rule about these dens. Don’t get caught by the farmer.

Older kids had told us that the farmer had a huge gun and was deadly accurate, and wasn’t afraid to shoot trespassing children on sight. These kids told us that there was a boy that had gone into the farmer’s fields. He’d done it as a dare. Many people had heard the gun shots that day and the boy’s body was never found. We were terrified of these stories but that never stopped us, we thought we were smarter than the farmer.

One day we were messing around right at the top the field. From there you could see the whole of Ivybridge and I loved pointing out my house. This day was particularly pleasant as it was the height of summer; the sky was a cloudless expanse of blue, the recently cut grass was dry and springy, and the sun was comforting on our bare arms and legs. This glorious heat also warmed the drying cowpats; their stench gathered in your nose and settled in the back of your throat. Oversized flies buzzed happily around the dung, their shiny blue bodies flashing in the afternoon sun.

The heat had made us all lazy and we flopped onto the ground, careful to avoid the dollops of cowpat. We shaded our faces with our arms and chatted absently; the sounds of the field lulling us into a doze. The hum of passing bugs, the chirruping of birds from the bushes, and the occasional rustle of wind through the blooming trees. Then, a low grind rumbled in the ground, disturbing us from our day dreaming. My friends and I stared at each other.

‘Farmer!’ we shrieked.

The clanking of metal and the engine’s whine was only a hedgerow away. We leapt to our feet and legged it down the field. I was always the slowest of my friends and was never usually able to keep up; but that day I sped in front of them, terror leaping up my throat. The grind of the tractor was growing louder. With each beat of my racing heart my panic grew. I wished I hadn’t worn such brightly coloured clothing that day; the farmer would be able to see me from miles away.

I made it to the den first, just as the tractor roared into the field. I collapsed onto my hands and knees, and struggled through the gap in the hedgerow. Nettles attacked my arms, twigs scratched at my hair, and thorns bit my legs. I crawled as quickly as I could, but this still wasn’t fast enough for my friends. I could feel their frantic hands pushing me from behind. In my panic I accidentally scraped against the barbed wire that ran through the surrounding hedgerows. It cut into my back, tearing through fabric and skin. I chocked back a scream and fell into the depths of the den, with Izzy and Jo barrelling in after me.

We lay in a bundle, barely breathing, as the monstrous tractor trundled by. Through the branches I could see the farmer; his dark eyes scoured the area intently. I shrunk down into the leafy undergrowth, trying to hide my bright pink t-shirt from his piercing eyes. Silence fell as the tractor left the field. We all let out sighs of relief.

We had survived one more day. 

*

Two weeks after this terrifying adventure, the farmer came back. We hid deep in our den once more, hardly daring to breathe. I peered through the branches and was shocked to see Jo’s mum walking out to the farmer. I pinched my friends and motioned towards the adults. We all gasped as Jo’s mum turned and pointed directly at us. Busted. The farmer stepped out of his tractor and we shuddered. My heart faltered as he stomped towards us. His hands plunged into the hedgerow, pulling branches apart. Izzy grabbed hold of my arm, squeezing the feeling from it. I wanted to escape, but there was nowhere for me to run to. I stared in horror as the farmer’s head, shoulders, and torso invaded our den.

He didn’t have soulless eyes, pointed teeth, or blood soaked overalls. In fact, he looked like an ordinary man. He smiled at our terrified faces.

‘I hear you like playing in the field, that’s fine as long as you don’t spook the cows,’ he said in a thick Devonshire accent.

My friends and I nodded, too scared to speak. The farmer smiled and gave us a cheerful wink before leaving the den. Once he had driven off and Jo’s mum had gone back inside I finally spoke.

‘Well, what do we do now?’

Sketch - The House at the End of the Road

Here's another one of my sketches. This one is based on setting. We had a task in which we had to describe a person through their rooms. The choices were: a middle aged recluse, a heartthrob actor, a writer with writer's block, or a recently adopted child. I didn't really know what I chose as it ended up like a reclusive writer. Anyway, I developed it further and this is the final outcome. I quite like it myself!

The House at the End of the Road

This sketch has been temporarily removed as I have sent it to a short story competition. Hope it wins!

Sketch - The Armani Assassin

I have just handed in my last creative piece of the term, I still have three more after Easter but that's four weeks away!

The next few posts will be my sketches from Creative Voice. These are short pieces that explore image, character, setting, and voice.

I have posted this before as The Mumford Man but it has now been workshopped and edited. So, please enjoy!

The Armani Assassin.

Al pierced the plastic cover of his frozen lasagne with a fork and flung it into the microwave. He didn’t have time to eat but he hadn’t had anything substantial for the last two days. Bar peanuts and crackers from hotel mini fridges didn’t count. As he watched the timer count down the minutes his smart phone buzzed. He looked at the screen.

Oh good, the Boss. Probably asking for another ‘favour’. He’d only just finished one of his boss’s favours. Al scanned the text message quickly. He had to be at the Roosevelt Hotel at eight o’clock. He checked his engraved Rolex from his father, ten past seven. He definitely wouldn’t have time to eat. Leaving the kitchen he headed to his bedroom. He picked out a clean suit from his mirrored wardrobe and carried on to his en suite, kicking off his Salvatore Ferragamo shoes as he went.

He stood in front of the bathroom mirror. Tired bags hung underneath his weary grey eyes. Lines pulled down at his lips and his moustache desperately needed a trim. He rubbed a hand across his face and noticed a few drops of blood already turning brown on the cuff of his right sleeve.

‘Fantastic,’ he groaned. He had tried so hard not to get blood on him this time - it was a very expensive shirt.

He slowly undid the buttons. Instead of chucking it into the laundry basket he just left it on the floor, he’d deal with it when he got back tonight. If not, Maria would sort it out tomorrow morning. Al slipped on a clean Georgio Armani shirt and tucked it into his Ralph Lauren trousers. He trimmed his moustache and dabbed on a splash of Clive Christian cologne, the one that drove the ladies wild. He ran his hands through his short dark hair, he hadn’t had time to wash it this morning, but it would have to do for tonight. He’d only had a short amount of time but damn, he looked good. Al winked at his reflection just as the microwave beeped.

He strolled back to the kitchen; the lasagne smelt delicious but there was no point even trying to eat it. He still needed to get across the city and it was now twenty past seven. He took the meal from the microwave and grabbed the bowl with Rodolfo written on the side from the floor. Al didn’t even need to whistle, his golden retriever knew the sound of his bowl being filled with food from across the room. Rodolfo jumped off the black leather sofa, on which he had been curled up on, and ran over to Al, tail wagging. Al tipped the lasagne into the bowl and put it back on floor. Rodolfo licked his lips before shoving his nose into the bowl of steaming Italian food. Al patted him on the head and stroked him behind his furry ears.

‘Careful, it’s hot,’ he warned with a smile. Rodolfo wheezed slightly, his tongue hanging out, before going back for more. ‘I’ll be back in a few hours hopefully; otherwise Maria will have to take you out tomorrow morning. I’ve got work to do.’ Al petted Rodolfo once more before picking up his suit jacket, which he had thrown on the back of the sofa. He then put his phone, keys, and wallet into his pockets before picking up his semi-automatic. This favour was going to be a tough one.

Writing Woes

Do you ever get to that moment where you just can't be bothered to write?

I'm feeling like that right now. I literally can't think of any ideas for my Textual Intervention piece based on fairy tales. Everything I write seems to be boring, flat, and already done to death. And yet I need at least 500 words by tomorrow!

Another problem are my Creative Voice 'sketches'. They're four 500 word pieces about image, voice, character, and setting. I just looked at some examples from past students and they are more original, inspired, and generally much better than any of mine are.

And then there's my Fiction for Children piece, Royalteen. Every time I hand a draft in to my lecturer, she  rips it to shreds. I do everything she says, but then next time I give her a copy there's even more scribbles and notes on it. I feel like I'm doing it all wrong. I so want it to be good but I bet I only get a 2:2 for it.

I just don't think my writing is good enough. My style isn't fun, lively and bright. It's bland. I don't write creatively at all. And I still have to pick my FYP! I don't have the confidence to do a piece of young adult fiction any more, not after having Judy as a lecturer!

I'm at a complete loss!

Character - The Mumford Man

For Creative Voice we had to bring in a picture of a person we wanted to write a story about. I got my boyfriend to choose the person as I didn't want to have any prior thoughts about them. It wasn't allowed to be a friend or a really obvious celebrity like Brad Pitt. So, my boyfriend chose this guy:

Now it turns out he's the lead singer in Mumford & Sons, Marcus Mumford. I didn't know this though when I wrote this piece. Did any of you guys recognise him? My piece is not even about a singer, more like an assassin. I imagined him as an Italian American born into the family business. He was going to meet a girl that would change his ways, but that wouldn't be till later. 


So here's the piece:

Al pierced the plastic cover of his frozen lasagne microwave meal with a fork and flung it into the microwave. He didn’t really have time to eat but he hadn’t really had anything substantial to eat in the last two days. Bar peanuts and nibbles from hotel mini fridges didn’t count. As he watched the microwave timer count down the minutes his iPhone buzzed. He looked at the screen. Oh good, the Boss. Probably asking for another ‘favour’. He’d only just finished one of his boss’s favours. Al scanned the text message quickly. Great, he had to be at the Roosevelt Hotel at eight o’clock. He looked at his engraved Rolex from his Father, ten past seven. He really wouldn’t have time to eat now. Leaving the microwave he headed to his bedroom. He picked out a clean shirt from his mirrored wardrobe and carried on to his en suite. He stood in front of the bathroom mirror. His grey eyes looked weary with tired bags underneath them. Lines pulled down at his lips and his moustache needed a trim. He rubbed a hand across his face and noticed a few drops of blood already turning brown on the cuff of his right sleeve.

‘Fantastic,’ he groaned.

He slowly undid the buttons. Instead of chucking it into the laundry basket he just left it on the floor, he’d deal with it when he got back tonight. If not, Maria would sort it out tomorrow morning. Al slipped on a clean Georgio Armani shirt and tucked it into his Ralph Lauren trousers. He trimmed his moustache and dabbed on a splash of Clive Christian cologne, the one that drove the ladies wild. He ran his hands through his short dark hair, he hadn’t had time to wash it this morning, but it would have to do for tonight. He’d only had a short amount of time but he still looked good. Al winked at his reflection just as the microwave beeped. He strolled back to the kitchen and opened the microwave. The lasagne smelt good but there was no point even trying to eat it. He still needed to get across the city and it was now twenty past seven. He took the meal from the microwave and grabbed the bowl with Rodolfo written on the side from the floor. Al didn’t even need to whistle, his long haired golden retriever knew the sound of his bowl being filled with food from across the room. Rodolfo jumped off the black leather sofa, on which he had been curled up on, and ran over to Al, tail wagging. Al tipped the lasagne into the bowl and put it back on floor. Rodolfo licked his lips before shoving his nose into the bowl of microwaved Italian food. Al patted him on the head and stroked him behind his furry ears.

‘Careful, it’s hot,’ he warned with a smile. Rodolfo wheezed slightly, his tongue hanging out, before going back for more. ‘I’ll be back in a few hours, if not Maria will take you out tomorrow morning. I’ve got work to do.’ Al petted Rodolfo once more before picking up his suit jacket, which he had thrown on the back of the sofa. He then put his iPhone, keys, and wallet into his pockets before picking up his semi-automatic. This favour was going to be a tough one. 

University Grades

This is a pretty braggy post. I got my Critical Evaluation for Creative Voice back today, and I won't lie, I was worried about what mark I was going to get. My Evaluation last year was 60%, so I wasn't too hopeful this year. However, I got 68% yay! Anyway, my friend said that she kept a record of all the grades she has got and I thought I would, too. I don't want to seem like a show off posting them on here, but it means I can link them to the exact pieces of work so you can see what I wrote and what grade I got for it. Also, if you can't show off your grades what's the point of getting them?

Year 2 Semester 2 so far...

Creative Voice: Critical Evaluation – 68%

Year 2 Semester 1

Media Writing: 1500 Word Critique of Article – 67%

Media Writing: 2000 Word Article – 65%

Short Story: Parody – 68%

Short Story: Creative Piece – 64%

Textual Intervention: Creative Piece – 72%

Textual Intervention: Rationale – 66%

Creating Short Screenplays: Film Script – 64%

Creating Short Screenplays: Essay – 65%

Year 1 Semester 2

Creative Non-Fiction: Creative Piece – 66%

Creative Non-Fiction: Essay – 54%

Creative Voice I: Critical Evaluation – 60%

Creative Voice I: Creative Piece – 68%

Creativity II: Exhibition Piece – 62%

Creativity II: Evaluation – 63%

Poetry and Poetic Expression: Creative Piece – 64%

Poetry and Poetic Expression: Rationale – 68%

Year 1 Semester 1

Language – Writing – Reading: Essay – 62%

Language – Writing – Reading: Portfolio of Writing Exercises– 53%

Fictional Writing: Creative Piece – 65%

Fictional Writing: Rationale – 63%

Creativity I: Presentation Evaluation – 63%

Creativity I: Research Essay – 68%

Script Writing: Essay – 64%

Script Writing: Pitch Presentation – 72%

My particular favourites are the Pitch Presentation; my Creativity I essay, which was on Oscar Wilde; my poetry pieces; my Creative Non-Fiction piece which was on Doctor Who; my Short Story Parody, and finally, my Textual Intervention piece, which was a First!

Creative Voice - Little Snippets

In Creative Voice we have to do lots of bits of writing, usually only a couple of lines long. So here are three little snippets of the work I have done.

Voice
For this piece we had to choose a famous person and write a small paragraph in their voice. Can you guess who it is?


Oh, I do love birthday parties, and I've been to my fair share of parties. I just love the idea of dressing up beautifully. I mean, I just don't know what dress I am going to wear tonight, maybe the white one that makes my breasts look bigger or the blue one that makes my waist look smaller, or maybe even that sequinned one that makes me look naked. I guess it all depends on what men are going to be there; the better the class of men the more alluring yet sophisticated the dress should be. And with this class of men you can't afford to look too cheap. It is the President's birthday party after all.

Marilyn Monroe with Bobby and John Kennedy

An Author's Message
For this task we had to write a piece with a very obvious meaning as we were discussing the quote: 'The author's audience should actively seek the author's meaning.' Can you guess the message of my piece? I hope so it's pretty obvious!

Mr Wolf loved his new coat. It had a large collar, five big shiny buttons, and huge bottomless pockets.  He had bought it from Milan and it was the height of fashion. Unfortunately, on the first day he wore it proudly out in public, a group of common dogs accosted him. They threw buckets of red paint at him and cried, 'Wearing humans is murder!' As the dogs ran away from him, Mr Wolf looked sadly at his beautiful tan leather coat. It was completely ruined.

Writing Similar Things
We had talked about whether it was possible for people to write exactly the same thing without realising. My lecturer said it wasn't possible as we all have completely different ideas. So what we had to do was all write a piece with a character called Joe who was 16 and another character called Cecil aged 45, who lived in Berkshire and were in a stable at night time. It had to start with the sentence 'it was a wrong number that started this.' My lecturer was right and we all wrote something completely different, some were about aliens, some were even about sordid relationships! Here's my piece:

It was a wrong number that started this. Joe now knew to always check who he was sending his texts to before he sent them. He meant to send it to Danny not Dad. And now he was paying the price. But his Dad choosing to yell at him in the stable was a bit over the top, and just so Mum wouldn't hear. This was typical Dad. Joe had sent the text earlier in the evening, it had taken him ages to get the guts to send the text and it had been to the wrong person. The most wrong person he could have possibly sent it to. Joe waited patiently as his Dad stormed up and down the stable, pausing briefly now and then to mutter at Joe angrily under his breath. Joe just wanted it to be over with.
'Look Dad, I'm sorry.'
'Sorry? Sorry!' his Dad stormed.
'Well, at least you know now,' Joe said helplessly.
'Yes, finding out your son is gay via text message that says he loves you is fantastic!'
Trying to lighten the situation Joe said, 'Better hope Mum doesn't see it, she might think you've having a very interesting affair.' Joe's Dad threw a fistful of straw of straw at him. It got him right in the face.

Ironically, this Friday I wrote a piece that had a man at a bar playing with a bar mat, drinking a double whisky, when a lady in a red dress spoke to him, and so did another person! So much never writing the same as another person. Though I suppose, that scenario is very cliché! 

The Fun of Module Selections

I have now chosen my modules for next year. It was hard this time as there were many modules that I didn't want to do, there seemed to be quite a few scriptwriting and poetry ones. While I like occasionally doing some scriptwriting and poetry  I don't think I could manage doing any more assignments about them. In the end I chose: Advanced Fictional Writing, Writing for Comics and Graphic Novels, Writing History Fiction, Science Fictions, and Creative Visions. I also wanted to do Writing Non-Fiction for Children but I could only choose three modules for the first semester. I was also tempted to do Creativity: Writing and Teaching, as I am considering being an English tutor or TA after University. However, I am still a little bit shy and the module description said it wasn't for the meek and students would have to act very silly, which isn't very me.


I will also be doing Creative Voice which is compulsory and I have been doing it for the past three years. This module explores a range of writing styles and techniques and encourages us to really look at our own writing. For example, I recently had to do a self-evaluation of my last year, and believe me it is hard to write about yourself critically. There is also a lot work-shopping and reading pieces out loud, so it has helped with my shyness somewhat. Last year I had to read a whole 2000 word piece out in front of class, but it wasn't too bad in the end. 


This third year also means FYP, or Final Year Project. This is the Creative Writing version of a dissertation, it's a creative piece of around 8000 words and a rationale or commentary of 2000 words. This may seem like a lot but it really isn't. It reminds me of when I first started Art, a sheet of A3 paper seemed massive and A2 was enormous, I never thought I'd do enough drawings to fill those pieces of paper! But now I look at those pieces of paper and think they're tiny, I mean, A4 is practically nothing! It's the same with writing. I used to think writing 1500 words would be hard, but you can do that in an hour if you know what you're writing. And 8000 will be nothing, especially when the average teen book is 40,000 - 45,000 words, 8000 words will barely get you through the introduction!

Overall, I am most excited for Comics and Graphic Novels as it's something completely different. I am a little bit apprehensive of Science Fictions because I'm not sure if I'm that nerdy, will I be able to make up all the crazy science jargon? Maybe I should watch more Star Trek! But before I can even think of third year, I have to get through this year first, although, I only have 6 weeks left!

Image - The Vietnamese Marketplace

For my module Creative Voice II we had to write a passage all about image, so describing somewhere, preferably using all five of the senses. I chose to write mine based on my time in a Vietnamese marketplace as I remember the hideous smell so well. Only in real life it didn't have such a pleasant ending as I suffered from heat stroke and fainted. Enjoy.

***

I already knew after five seconds that I did not want to stay here long. It was dark, gloomy and incredibly stuffy. I had always been under the assumption that in hot places it was always cooler indoors, but not here. There may not have been any blistering sunshine but there was still a lot of heat. The heat of hundreds of people crowded under one roof, and although the covered marketplace was huge with a high roof, it still wasn’t enough for this many people. As soon as I stepped in through the open archway I was surrounded by people. Some of the people were tourists like me, some were the locals just looking for a bargain, but most of the people were stall owners, and they were the worst. Within seconds a scrawny, stringy old woman grabbed my arm, her hands were as rough as leather and surprisingly strong for such a feeble looking woman. ‘You want t-shirt. You buy. Good price.’ she yelled at me over the noise of the marketplace. She then tried to drag me to her stall. Luckily, I broke free before she could force me to buy any of her tacky goods.

Looking around me, however, I realised that the whole marketplace was selling tacky goods. One stall was selling jade Buddhas that had limbs missing, another sold wooden bead necklaces that would snap as soon as you wore them, and one sold hundreds of pairs of chopsticks that were likely to splinter in your mouth. I had been standing looking at these cheap items for too long, the stall owners had seen me. All at once they started to come towards me. One arm out to grab me while the other ready to shove a Buddha, or necklace, or a pair of chopsticks in my face. I stared in horror as this mob of Vietnamese marketplace zombies lunged at me ready to claim me as their customer. Quickly, before any of them could catch me I ran off in the other direction pushing through all the crowds, away from the stall owners but also away from my family.

I took a left, then a right, then another left before I realised I was totally lost and alone. The marketplace was full of thousands of stalls that were arranged just like a maze, one that was impossible to get out of. Each stall looked the same but with slight differences; here were more Buddhas but made of marble, and wooden bead bracelets, and plastic chopsticks. Before any of these stall owners could grab me I walked straight ahead; maybe if I walked in a straight line I would find an exit or at least my family. The further I walked the smellier it got. Obviously there was order to this chaotic place after all and I had unwittingly wandered into the food section. It stank of sweaty people, foreign spices, and worst of all: dead fish. And to top it off the heat of the marketplace made every smell more pungent and deadly.  Now I wished I was seeing Buddhas again as hanging fish guts and amputated chicken claws were a lot worse. All different types of seafood were laid across the stall, cut open spread out for all to see; never before had I seen an octopus’s brain, and I didn’t want to again, either. Not only could I smell every little whiff of dead animal, I could taste it, too. With each breath the sour tang of decomposing fish spread over my tongue and throat. My stomach heaved, my throat burned, and my nose stung. I pulled my top over my nose and mouth as I decided on which way to go now. When I saw the people lay out more fish, including a crab at least two foot long, and start sharpening their knives I didn’t stop to think, I just ran, shoving people aside as I went.

By a stroke of luck, I bumped into my Dad again, haggling over an ornamental fan, right next to an open archway. I didn’t stop to talk long be I legged it out of that hellish marketplace into the bright fresh air of safety.     

Delirium

This is a short story I wrote in my Creative Voice module. The only rule for writing this short story was that it had to be inspired by a piece of artwork or a piece of music. My piece was inspired by a painting I saw in my Creativity II class; it was of a man sat on a wooden chair in an empty room, staring out of the window. 

Hope you enjoy reading!

Delirium
Edit 17.05.2013: This post has temporarily been removed as I have entered it into The Fiction Desk's Ghost Story Competition. Wish me luck! 

Meat

This is a poem that I had to write in my Creative Voice module. We had to be inspired by some sort of image and these were the things I was inspired by:

Firstly, Francis Bacon's 'Head Surrounded by Sides of Beef'.

Then Lady Gaga's Meat Dress popped into my head.

The 'It's a Band-saw' scene from Sherlock Holmes just finished the idea off!

Seeing these images you'll understand how I came up with this poem.

Meat

The meat that is turning,

grinding and churning.

Hooks that dangle

The meat that will mangle

They hang in the shadow

pig, sheep and fat cow

Juicy and dripping

some parts still weeping.

The cleaving and slicing,

the chopping and dicing.

Guts, heart and liver

Do give a shiver.

The smell of it ripens,

The look of it frightens.

And then, a slice from the saw 

you're living no more.