Young Writers Society

Chapter 1:

“Come out when you’re decent then!”
“Call me in twenty years! I’m sure I still won’t be decent then!” I hung up the phone and tightened my grip on the striped beach towel as I walked back to the bathroom. The carpet creaked with every step and for no reason the windows were open while the shades were drawn. It was the second month of spring, cool and pesky.
I unwrapped the towel and looked into the mirror. It was covered in steam from the bath I had just taken. I wiped it off and began to model. “Inhale, exhale. Skinny, fat. I did this for a while longer before I was finished.
I pounded down the stairs dressed in an orange shirt and black polyester pants, pants banned from the preppy gates of a preppy school in a preppy undignified area.
I dialed my friend’s number but got the answering machine, one of his customized ones, made especially for me.
“This is the Smith residence, please leave you name and number after the buzz and we’ll get back to you… Except you Elizabeth, you stay away.”
“Stupid,” I muttered.
Ronnie Jack Smith, a name covered in freckles and smelly deodorant. Wanting to hang out he called me, during my bathtime, six times before anybody had taken the trouble to pick up the phone and take a message! Here I was calling, waiting, and muttering curses at him.
I walked to the front door and opened it, startled to find Ronnie standing there.
“Did I mention I called on my”- he began to dig in his pocket- “Cell phone!” Ronnie can annoy me double time now. Sarcastic remarks and insults weighed down my system as I tried hard not to say anything.
But, I noticed I have a very weak constitution when it comes to shutting up.
His cell phone was old, not a folding phone, it was black and was probably larger than my palm. I was surprised it took him so long to fish it out of his pocket. Upon closer inspection I also noticed it was covered in (“Wow Ronnie, did you steal that from the glitter fairy or what?”) glittery stickers.
“It was my older sisters phone when she was a teenager.”
“How many years ago was that? One? Two? Ten? Back before my dad started drinking?”
“How many years ago did you dad start drinking?”
“Way before your sister was a teen, probably before she was born. Before he was even born.”
We went out the front porch and walked to the patio and sat on the decaying wooden picnic table, talking about what we would do for the summer.
I told Ronnie that I would just lie and wait for death to find me all summer and to play the computer until I couldn't tell the difference between broccoli and cactus.
Ronnie, being himself, said he would find the perfect girl, hopefully train his dog, Brutus, who was a perfectly fat example of all play and no work, or get a new dog, go to Oklahoma to visit his dad, and to throw me into the lake. I wished him well in all of the plans except for the last one. Honestly, why was he always having much more excitement in his life while I good-naturedly moseyed along closer to enevitable doom?
“Is that it? You know, you could climb a mountain and fall off it, if you wanted to Smith,” I looked up towards the sky. The sun was weaving in and out of clouds and my hair’s scent, fragrant from the earlier washing, blew away with the wind. Ronnie looked up too, squinting his eyes.
“Mighty fine skies we’s havin’.”
“Cut the country crap! Ok, here is a game, who ever can spot a bird in the sky first wins. Go!”
“Why are we playing this?” Ronnie whined.
“Shut up and look! And it’s for fun and hearing about you having fun isn’t fun, got it?”
"Oy, so confusing."
We searched and continued to talk until thirty minutes had passed. As we were in the middle of a story about Brutus, when he was a puppy, Neil, my step-dads, car engine shot wildly and we turned around. He thrust the car door open, got out, examined the junk heap, kicked it, slammed the door, walked by me and Ronnie without as much as a greeting, and glared furiously at the sidewalk and twigs ahead. Angry old bum.
We were just about to give up this little game I had just made up thirty minutes ago (we even tried bird calls) when all of a sudden I heard it cawing. A crow. I nudged Ronnie and pointed upward and traced the pattern of the bird. He turned to me.
“Yes, it is your finger.” I flicked his cheek.
There was a crow, in full magnificent view in its prime glory, gliding around light posts and trees before letting out a final crow and landing right in front of us.
Silence, Ronnie and me stared at it. We didn’t move at all. I held in my breath. This was music to my soul, I had never been so close to a wild bird before.
Twitching its neck and head around, the crow looked intently at us, it turned around to face the backyard.
“I’m going to try and grab it,” I whispered to Ronnie, who by now was probably not breathing at all. “What?”
“Me grab crow now!”
“Are you insane? You’re irrational, it’s a crow, not a squirrel!” I eyed him.
“Yes and not really, and I know. Now watch!” I sat up straighter, hunched my back over, and watched the crow. I began to lift my body from the bench when Ronnie said, “Don’t crows peck at your eyes then eat them up? Crows are the sign of misfortune and death and all of that, if I were you I’d stay back! It could have rabies!” I glared at him and stuck my tongue at him and continued to get up. "If I get rabies you know you'll end up getting them as well glitter fairy." Ronnie winced.
I lifted my right leg when that black demon turned around and faced me. It cranked its neck from side to side, stared at me with eyes like cherries, and then turned back around. I heard Ronnie whimper with relief. I slowly put my leg down and shuffled a bit closer. The crow sat there, not knowing of my foolhardy attempts. It kept twitcng it's head around but never bothered to ask itself why there was a shadow forming around it or why it sounded like sands was scaraping behind it.
Caw!
I lunged forward, as it was about to take flight again, with my arms stretched out and a grin on my face. The crow was flapping its wings around wildly and Ronnie ran up to the bird and me. I moved my hands closer to the bird’s chest and tried to pluck a feather from it but Ronnie took hold of it and I lost my right hands grip. We were screaming to high heavens as the god forsaken bird heaved and jerked around this way and that, frantically looking for an escape. With a final tug I pulled one of the feathers off and we let the crow free. It angrily cawed at us, and I’m sure it would have flicked us off if it had fingers, then rose into the evening sky. I ogled at the murky tinted feather. Ronnie looked at me.
“You’re doomed to wander forever! You don’t have anywhere to go, says the crows feather,” he foretold with a gypsy voice. I elbowed him in the stomach.
From an open window in my house, turning red with anxiety, I heard my parents shouting. Apparently they were aguing about a package.
“Well Liz, I think I’d better go,” Ronnie’s shoulders brushed mine as he walked by to the front gate.
“Why so soon?” I pleaded for him to stay but the idiot wouldn’t take yes for an answer. So I watched him walk all the way out of my yard and down the street.

I enjoyed this.

I liked the way your main character narrated, as if she were really talking.

I didn't understand the very first part, though. The part with the phone. Who was she talking to?

Again, this was interesting. I want to know more about the characters and story. Keep working on this.

Hey, I really liked this. Hope to read more because I liked the way you wrote it and your sense of discription, you describe things really well. You're a great writer from what I have read so far. My favorite part was:

But, I noticed, I have a very weak constitution when it comes to shutting up.
His cell phone was old, not a folding phone, it was large and black and was probably larger than my palm. I was surprised it took him so long to fish it out of his pocket. Upon closer inspection I also noticed it was covered in (“Wow Ronnie, did you steal that from the glitter fairy or what?”) glittery stickers.
“It was my older sisters phone when she was a teenager.”
“How many years ago was that? One? Two? Ten? Back before my dad started drinking?”
“How many years ago did you dad start drinking?”
“Way before your sister was a teen, probably before she was born.”
We went out the front porch and walked to the patio and sat on the decaying wooden picnic table, talking about what we would do for the summer which was coming up quicker than a hobo to a pie on a sill.
I told Ronnie that I would just lie and wait for death to find me all summer and to play the computer until my eyes were bad.
Ronnie, being himself, said he would find the perfect girl, hopefully train his dog, Brutus, who was a perfectly fat example of all play and no work, or get a new dog, to go to Oklahoma to visit his dad, and to throw me into the lake. I wished him well in all of the plans except for the last one. Honestly, why was he always having much more excitement in his life while I good-naturedly moseyed along closer to my doom?

I also like the way you made the main character stand out through the story. Keep it up! Happy Writing!

On the very first part when she was on the phone she was talking to Ronnie....

“Come out when you’re decent then!”
“Call me in twenty years but even then I’m sure I won’t me!” I hung up the phone and tightened my grip on the striped beach towel as I walked back to the bathroom.

THEN

Ronnie Jack Smith, a name covered in freckles and smelly deodorant. Wanting to hang out he called me, during my “bath” time, six times before anybody had taken the trouble to pick up the phone and take a message! Here I was calling, waiting, and muttering curses at him

Wanting to hang out he called me 6 times it says. Sorry for confusion.

Anybody read this? please please read this?

This sounds like something I would say so we will make it prettyful! YAY PRETTYNESS! Oy...anyway...

'Upon closer inspection I also noticed it was covered in (“Wow Ronnie, did you steal that from the glitter fairy or what?”) glittery stickers.'

'Upon closer inspection I noticed it was covered in sparkly stickers.

Wow, Ronnie, did you steal that from the Glitter Fairy or what?

Much nicer. It's such a great line...I may have to steal that...

'It angrily cawed at us, and I’m sure it would have flicked us off if it had fingers, then rose into the evening sky. I ogled at the murky tinted feather. Ronnie looked at me.

That was GREAT. G-R-E-A-T.

My only thing...it's 'flipped off', not 'flicked off'...that and the f-word you need to fix, m'dear Liz.

.... Are... are you for sale because you are absolutely ADORABLE!!!

*backs away slowly*

FOR A ONE TIME ONLY SALE OFFER OF $19.95!

Hehe...the spam artist in me speaking.

TBR! *shakes head and waggles finger*

Well, I could go on and on about the grammar, but you can study that on your own time. (Yup! I'm mean. ) Instead, I will say this: you are very creative. You have an interesting way of framing phrases and you have good timing as far as poetry, which is necessary to have in writing prose. But you need to be a little bit more organized.

Outlines are hard for me too, that's why I don't call them that. Instead, I have a "List of Events." Here's a little summary of an old story which I have since revised beyond recognition. You probably, unfortunately, recognize it. Don't pay attention to the corny plots, just pay attention to the format it is in:

List of Events

Chapter 1
- Beth is about to be picked up by a man who will take her as a servant.
- She remembers the boy who was sent away.
- She is picked up by Sadie’s father and realizes that this is going to be a strange family to work for.

Chapter 2
- She meets Sadie.
- They argue a bit.
- Sadie reads her Tom Sawyer.
- Sadie’s father comes in and crashes the party.

Chapter 3
- Beth goes to a dinner table and is surprised to see how this family is acting.
- There is an argument between Sadie and her father about the value of lives.
- Beth realizes what is going on; Sadie’s father might kill Sadie if she steps out of line. So to stop that, Beth tells Sadie to “Shut up.”
- Sadie is surprised and runs away from the dinner table.
- Sadie’s father knocks Beth unconscious.


Just a couple of sentences describing what happens in list form, that's it. I find it helpful, and it helps me summarize stuff so that I know what is important. It also helps me cut down on irrelevent stuff. Try it, it might work. ^_^

Just one caution: if you are trying down a mythology you created, this format may not be ideal. By mythology, I mean volumes and volumes and volumes of stories and poetry of a culture that your created. A list of events may help, but mythology should not be short changed, no?