Is Anyone Here Into Creative Writing?

[Cruel_Sandwich]

Posted: 7/23/06 at 1:40pm

If so, post your work!

[gavrochegirl]

Posted: 7/23/06 at 1:43pm

Well, I don't have any of my work on my computer, but I am interested in creative writing!

[Cruel_Sandwich]

Posted: 7/23/06 at 1:47pm

I wrote this last year:

"FIRST MILK TRIP

I had my first dalliance with the unholy beast known as Milk at the tender age of five. Sure, I had suckled on a teat or two in my day but the stuff that flows out of the womanly parts is not truly Milk. That's the hard lesson I learned at age five staring at that carton resting on the table, just a few inches away from my head....inside of which lied its future home.

My tiny doll-like hands hid border-line swiss army knife-like nails, which was an ability that I exploited to its full advantage that day. Thoose nails soon found themselves in that rich mahogony table, hoisting me up higher and higher as I attempted to reach my destination: To experience my first Milk Trip.

I grabbed that carton at a fortuitous time. My mom had turned her attention towards the phone, to which it spoke to her saying in a gentle voice, "Brrrng! Brrrng!". I threw myself off that table and immediately rushed to my room so I could tame my wildest fantasies. Sitting up against the door, blocking all who wished to enter, I drank that carton empty from miniscus to nadir. Minutes passed. Was all I had heard about milk at the time a complete lie, I wondered.

It was at the precise moment when that sentence finished in my mind when my pupils started growing larger. And larger. Until eventually they were way too big for my head and fell out. Left without eyes, I was forced to rely on my now suddenly incredibly acute sense of hearing; so acute that I could actually hear my innocence being lost. I was growing up.

My cherry had been popped and could now be used as an ice cream topping.

Words cannot describe what went on in those minutes after the carton emptying; a sentence which pretty much negates a justifiable existence for this entire piece but I digress. I started noticing that things were becoming much too alive. I stared at the wall and realized....Wow....this is living. This is a living wall. It had the ability to breathe, like you or I or you or I or you or you or you. Its breaths were cute and wispy and sensual, like Marilyn Monroe's must have been while she was dying from that drug overdose. I decided that the wall's breaths were blasphemous, I mean walls aren't MEANT to live. So I decided to murder it. What would be my weapon of choice? My borderline swiss army knife-like nails, of course.

I clawed at that wall. I clawed at it and clawed at it and clawed at it until the breaths stopped coming. At last. It was over. But then.....like a tidal wave....I was engulfed in sadness. It hit me. Hard. I had just killed a living thing. Why should I continue living if I can't even let another thing do that? I should take my own life, I thought.

Rather than use my own hands (Because I don't want people to say "He literally died by his own hand"), I decided to chew a hole in my chest and forcibly remove the heart. Because my body was still small at that age and was growing into my massive head, this was easily accomplished. I located my chest and dove into it with vigor. My own meat was shredded, my own bones were broken. I saw my heart. My heart saw me. We shared a moment together. Then I smashed it with my forehead and died immediately.

And then I went on to have a nice and happy and productive life. Yeaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaah!"

[My Fair Lady]

Posted: 7/23/06 at 2:01pm

I used to be. For a while, I was writing a novel that a bunch of people on here have read. But I kind of just stopped. I lost my inspiration

[EmieMarie]

Posted: 7/23/06 at 4:23pm

i already made a post for my creative writing,
the website to see my play in progress is...
http://www.fictionpress.com/read.php?storyid=2192848

have fun

[CurtainUp]

Posted: 7/23/06 at 5:22pm

English major with a Creative Writing concentration here! I posted some of my stuff at the livejournal community, Xpaper_identity. There are a lot of Englihs and Theatre Double Majors at my school, but that'd be too much for me. I love theatre (duh :-P), but writing is so important to me, as well.

Let me scrounge up something, maybe more later if you all are interested. Warning: LONG!

Hi, this is just a musing about my friends from college - each of them is a toy. It looks slightly like a Velveteen Rabbit ripoff but I did not think of that until I was nearly finished. I hope you can look at it on it's own right. This musing went from a multiple character sketch to a little coming of age piece. Hope you like!

"The girl looks at her toy chest with her eyes acorn-wide. The little brown acorns gleam from her inner sunshine. Glee expands her slight curve of a mouth expands into a crescent moon; she is enraptured with her new playmates.

There is the adorable, rag doll, the doll she will never get sick of. Her favorite. The bright rag hair and colorful, festive clothes always add at least a sprinkle of joy. The doll is so worn the stitching is near loose. The dolls is soft, and huggable, and whenever the girl is sad the doll is always there, ready for a hug. But when the girl is cheery, the doll is an amiable and perfect playmate. She is an active participant in whatever game the girl chooses. She has seen the girl at her best and worst – her zeniths and pitfalls. She is ready to comfort or play, such a versatile thing!

The girl’s eyes wander to the worn, sturdy, old rocking horse. He is not in the toy chest, but sort of watches over it. The old horse is ready to take the weight of the girl on his back. He takes weight with joy, and carries her back and forth. He is often in the background, yet at the same time ever-present. Not quite in the toy chest, but always involved. His painted eyes always observing. The old horse has lived through a lot, he sort of leads the girl forward, he provides a solid foundation.

Next, the girl pulls out a fuchsia-painted stuffed baby unicorn. Childlike and full of whimsy, the baby unicorn laughs with hr face. Always ready to leap. The girl imagines the baby unicorn sort of nuzzling up to her, the affectionate, silly little thing. The colors of the unicorn are outlandish yet the unicorn has become so comfortable in herself; she exudes vividness. The toy, although brimming with cuteness and whimsy, never forgets her horn. When she feels threatened, she butts on fearlessly with full force.

Splayed near the bottom of the chest, is the fighting action figure. While he has his guard up, he is still a popular toy. He has had many battles, often with himself, yet still brings joy to others. He seems defensive, yet others are drawn to him. He has a leadership quality about himself, which is enforced by those around him. Like any soldier, he is violent to his enemies, but always looking out for those on his side. He just must be sure not to accidentally shoot one on his side.

There is the set of Russian stacking dolls. At first, the girl does not want to play with this toy. The dolls are of hard wood and abrasive and the eyes are icy. After a few splinters from the wood, the girl decides to give it a go. And she removes doll from doll, layer from layer. By the time she finds the tiniest doll, the girl adores the toy. She relishes in discovering each layer, each piece. While at first there was no connection with the toy, it turns out the girl just needed layers to be revealed, right to the last little doll.

The stuffed clown, oh, he is a popular one. Constantly bringing laughter to those around him, with his dopey makeup and silly way of existence. His bright makeup lightens the toy chest completely. It seems obvious, but what most don’t notice about the clown, is his softness. It is overlooked because of his outrageous humor. But he is soft, and the girl likes the softness. Like the doll, he too can be a source of comfort and understanding.

And back in her innocent, cupcake filled mind, she knows she will not play with these toys forever. She has seen how her older sister has replaced her fuchsia unicorns with nail polish the same color.

But, she doesn’t think on that. Because, even when nail polish and hair brushes are smothering her desk, and the play room becomes more like a den, her friends are still there. She will not play with them every day, naturally, but she will know in the back of her mind the rainbows and princesses they brought her. And maybe, just for a moment on an excruciating day after school, she will put down her eyeliner pencil and pick up her faithful doll. She will softly peck her on the cheek, squeeze her tight, and go back to eyeliner and shopping and hour long phone calls."

[Dancinqueen123]

Posted: 7/24/06 at 8:35pm

I really like creative writing, but I don't know how comfortable I am posting it.

[gustof777]

Posted: 7/24/06 at 9:04pm

I love to write but am just horrible at it and am so bad at being able to pick up where I left off. I also am just way too impulsive so my writing is very blotchy if that makes sense? But I love reading others...EmieMarie I am hell bent on reading your play and plan on reading it tommorow when I'm not so busy and am excited to read it.

[EmieMarie]

Posted: 7/24/06 at 9:13pm

thank you so much gust! you rule, i give you a million kudos

[Cruel_Sandwich]

Posted: 7/24/06 at 9:17pm

here's the first scene from a play I wrote:

(The lights fade in on JACK JILLETTE. Chirpy music plays in the background.)

JACK: Hi there, folks! My name is Jack Jillette, spokesman for Yummwell Foods. You may have noticed our restaurants popping up here and there and all around the country. And if you ever felt a little rumble in your stomach, you may have even gone inside and sampled the virtual cornucopia of deliciousness that lies behind those golden doors. One such item is the Yumm Burger: Five patties of the most freshly slaughtered meat we could find, an entire wedge of lettuce that has been encased in Alaskan ice for the past six months, and enough cole slaw to turn that hungry frown into a sated smile! Lemme tell you, folks! It is literally impossible to come out of a Yummwell restaurant still feeling hungry. It all goes back to the CEO and founder of the Yummwell Corporation, Mr. Phineas T. Yumm. He knows that world hunger is a cancer, blithely spreading from one impoverished country to the next. World hunger truly is an indiscriminate bastard, not caring whose stomach it lays its filthy hands on, squeezing the life out of it until it’s just a vacant, empty void. Mr. Phineas T. Yumm finds this so unbelievably sickening that he decided to do something about it. And since world hunger continues to rage on, we decided that this time, it was personal. Folks, I’m here to tell you guys that we are completely revamping the 99 cent menu!

(SOUND: Cheering.)

JACK: Yes indeed, folks! Come to your nearest Yummwell restaurant and try our new Cluck Burger, a sandwich made from the best chickens that science can breed. Come and try our new Tastee Shake, so thick and chocolaty that you’ll literally need the Jaws of Life to eat it. But…most of all….be sure to try the cornerstone of our revamped, redone, rehabilitated, and reverbed 99 cent menu: The Humongoid burger. Folks, this is the big one. A two foot work of art that would cause Michelangelo to crumble up his Sistine Chapel doodlings in disgust. It has not one…not two…but five, count ‘em, five pounds of the finest meat from the brawniest animals at the slaughtering house. Folks, this is more than just a burger. This is a tool; a tool towards eliminating world hunger and bringing about world peace. From the mouth of Mr. Phineas T. Yumm himself: “If every man, woman, and child had a Humongoid burger in their right hand, they could use the left one to lock arms with their fellow man, creating a circle of unity and peace around the globe.” Stirring words. In our eyes, it is quite impossible to feel negative when you have a hot meal inside you. After all, our motto always has been: “If you’re still hungry, something’s wrong with you!”

[EmieMarie]

Posted: 7/24/06 at 9:27pm

very funny

[meggsison]

Posted: 7/26/06 at 12:00am

I love creative writing. <3

[ZONEACE]

Posted: 7/26/06 at 6:32am

My second major is Creative Writing.

[ChrisLK]

Posted: 7/29/06 at 1:02am

Sandwich, that was really clever and funny. I enjoyed it a lot.

Hey, Emie, a fellow FP-er! Hola!

Ah, I have tried quite unsuccessfully to get into playwritingookwriting. I'm pretty decent at short-story writing, but the most writing I do is songs. I'm aiming to writing a musical someday in the near future.

Anyway, here's my Fictionpress profile: http://www.fictionpress.com/~lordk If anyone's interested, I have a "story" entitled "Random Songs for Musicals" where I've posted most of my better songs written for theater. [/shameless self-promotion]

I did write a complete skit for a theater class once... I'll have to post it at some point.

[Cruel_Sandwich]

Posted: 7/29/06 at 3:36am

Thanks :)

[Cruel_Sandwich]

Posted: 8/6/06 at 4:08pm

Here's a depressing story about HIV that I wrote for some scholarship dealie:

BEST FRIENDS by Jeremy Moran
Shaun and I have been best friends for years. We have been through so much together; the good times and the bad. We walk together, we eat together, and we feel together. We are inseparable. Our paths have been intertwined for so long that nothing could even begin to untangle them. That is not to say, however, that our relationship has always been easy. There are days when he throws tantrums, the days when he cries, the days when I make his life a living hell, the days he wants to kill me and the days when he wants to kill himself. Yet, for lack of a better term, we are stuck with one another. The only thing that can ever slash us apart would be the sharpest end of our mortal coil.
I met Shaun at a party when he was 19. With overliquored, oversexed individuals awash in a sea of drugs, it was a sordidly perfect good time. Each room of the house offered its own surprise. Walk into the kitchen and you could find Cheryl snorting cocaine off of the breakfast table. Creep into the upstairs bedroom and you could find Nate and Rachel going at it under the covers. Knock on the downstairs bathroom door and you could find me.
I was there with Dex, a tall, angular man who would be considered handsome if it were not for the rather noticeable infected holes and splotches all over his body. That didn’t seem to deter him from shooting up with some of the most saliva caked, blood stained, dirt residing, disease infested, and just plain grossest looking needles I’ve ever seen in my life. Yet they seemed to entertain him and I was powerless to do anything. After all, I was also stuck with this man.
Shaun had been on a bit of a bender by the time he had walked in on the two of us. This scholarship-owning football star had already had his mind bent by pills, tablets, coke, acid and enough alcohol to tranquilize a horse. Yet, being the robust, muscular specimen that he was, he knew he was not down for the count yet. He had heard rumors that somewhere in the house lurked heroin, a drug he had heard worked wonders for the mind and body. Stumbling into the bathroom to find his buddy Dex and I in the bathtub preparing to shoot up, he had found the jackpot.
That’s when he met me.
At first, I knew more about him than Shaun did about me. He paid me absolutely no mind in those days that followed the party. Sure, he had a fever, but he just attributed that to the seasonal change. Sure, he felt tired and worn out all day, but he just attributed that to the night sweats. It was just a case of the flu, brought about by summer’s change to autumn, he steadfastly believed. He would get better soon.
All of that was just a hazy memory by the time the scorching days of summer came. With high school graduation behind him and college looming ahead, he was on the pathway to a bright future. He didn’t have time to worry about the flu he had a few weeks ago. He didn’t have time to worry about me.
It was around this time when he started getting pretty serious with his girlfriend, Suzy. She was a strikingly attractive woman, with a personality that could bring light into even the darkest corner. They would go to movies together, they would go to museums together, they would go to the park together, they would eat together, and they would laugh together. There was never a moment where their thoughts were far from each other. Each day spent with her fired Shaun’s passion further. He was absolutely convinced that they were made for each other. This relatively sped up the process of a typical date between them progressing from dinner and a movie to wild nights of passionate sex.
The dreaded day of finally shipping off to different colleges was creeping nearer and nearer. Neither could fathom a week without each other, much less an entire semester. Sure they would be able to talk to each other by phone but it would not be the same. Nevertheless, it was just something they would have to get used to. They solemnly went about their preparations. Shaun packed up all of his belongings. Suzy tore down the posters on her wall. Shaun said goodbye to friends. Suzy cut her hair. Shaun researched his professors. Suzy threw a going away party. Shaun cut his hair. Suzy packed up her belongings. All that was left for Shaun was to get a physical, in accordance with the rules of the university’s football team.
All it took were a few boils for Shaun to be immediately sent to a rapid testing facility. All it took was 20 minutes for the doctors to utter those life-changing words. All it took was a little lightheadedness that grew into a full-blown panic attack to knock Shaun out.
Hello Shaun, nice to meet you.
The days that followed were filled with intense paranoia, loathing, and confusion. “Why did I get this?” “What happened?” “Why do I deserve this?” Shaun was locked up in an isolated box of shame. He could not bear to admit it to himself, much less tell his parents. His extent of knowledge on the subject was limited to RENT, Angels in America, and a movie starring Tom Hanks. In his mind, it was regarded as the Bubonic Plague for the information generation. When he wasn’t hating himself for willingly causing his downfall, he was hating himself for hating himself. “Why am I crying? I have to be strong.” He had to tell somebody but whom? Surely not his parents, who would have a collective nervous breakdown if they found out that their son was on a path towards death. Surely not his friends, who would incessantly mock him for getting infected with “the gay disease”. Surely not Suz…Oh God.
That late night telephone call was the hardest thing Shaun ever had to get through, coming after Shaun had slowly gathered up the courage to tell his parents and a select group of friends. His fingers shook so much that it took nearly 15 minutes to dial the number. Each ring just made Shaun’s body grow colder and colder.
“Hello?”
Shaun gulped.
“Suzy…there’s something I have to tell you…”
Shaun felt as if he had a boulder the size of the Grand Canyon in his throat as he struggled through the words. His tears, abrupt pauses, and nervous coughs were met with a long silence, a short quivering sound, and then finally the crash of the phone against the receiver. Beeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeep.
Five minutes later, the phone rang.
“ARE YOU SERIOUS?!?!”
At first she was absolutely livid. She tossed every insult she could straight into Shaun’s heart and it hurt. Bad. After about 10 minutes she was distracted by a bizarre sound. Was that Shaun crying? She immediately looked at herself and realized that she was accomplishing nothing. It was at that precise moment when she and Shaun shared a good, long cry together that soon gave way to “I love you”s that soon gave way to a six hour telephone conversation that covered the entire spectrum of their concerns and ultimately ended with not only Suzy’s vow of loyal support through this ordeal, but also her promise to get tested herself.
A few days later, another phone call came.
Hello Suzy, nice to meet you.
This time they were armed with better information. Shaun had been attending a weekly support group, began seeing a therapist, and devoted all of his free time towards better understanding exactly what it was that he had. He discovered that living with me was not a death sentence. He met many of my other friends; people who had known me for decades. He met among them successful bankers, actors, lawyers, dentists, doctors, Christians, Jews, Muslims, Atheists, Agnostics, Buddhists, blacks, whites, Latinos, husbands, wives, lovers, friends, and everything in between.
The years went by. Shaun and Suzy both graduated with degrees in hand. Now they were ready to go out into the world and make something of themselves. Suzy went on to law school while Shaun went into a field near and dear to his heart: Education. Becoming a high school teacher allowed him to reach out to those who were dealing with the sort of problems that Shaun knew how to overcome. It did not take long at all for him to become the most popular teacher in the school, with students regularly dropping by to ask for his advice for some of the most difficult issues in their lives.
One day, he noticed a young man in the fifth row shaking, panting, and wiping away tears conspicuously so that none of his friends could see. Once the bell rang, he walked over to the troubled student and asked him if he was alright.
“Well…I just got some horrible, horrible news.”
Shaun felt more in touch with this student than he did with any other. The agony, the sheer horror, the despair. Shaun knew what they all felt like. He counseled him through the diagnosis, through the treatments, and encouraged him to follow his dreams. That student was just one piece of a mosaic of young lives that Shaun and Suzy were able to touch. Their desire to give to young people the sort of education about me that they themselves lacked at their age finally answered the question that they had asked at the very beginning of our friendship: “Why?”
My friendship with Shaun and Suzy is one that continues to this day. They have lived full, long lives despite my presence due to their determination, their spirit, and their willingness to succeed. They have realized that the best way to deal with my presence is to know me, accept me, and, through education, let others know about me. Their lives are a tribute to the fact that my friendship with anyone is not an automatic death sentence. It’s all due to the fact that they have focused more on living and less on dying.


Updated On: 8/6/06 at 04:08 PM