BOB, ABE and PAM

A BOB:
Someone who tells you you can't do something, someone who you want to think good of you. This person criticizes you and haunts you until you no longer believe in your dream. But, being a BOB, them criticizing you, although they don't know it, and maybe you don't, makes you want your dream more, often making you succeed. A BOB usually wants to be what you are too, and can't succeed, and makes them self feel better by hurting you. In other words, Do it for BOB!
Boastful
Oblivious
Backbiting

An ABE:
Someone who over-exaggerates you. There is nothing wrong with telling someone that their work is very pretty, or their writing is good when it isn't, to make them feel better, but an ABE make you have false expectations of your work. They don't say: "If you keep writing, you will make it someday," they say "You writing is the best I have ever read. It is even better than Jane Austen, my all time-favorite author. Listen to them, but only some parts. You will make it someday if you keep writing, but you need to remember that you have to keep trying.
Amazing
Brilliant
Extravagant

A PAM:
A PAM is the middle, the perfectly balanced. They tell you to keep going, that your work is great, but they give you feed back to help your writing. Everyone wants a PAM in their head. Sadly, lots of people shut them out.
Practical
Authentic
Middle-balanced

These are listed in order of how good they are, although ABE and BOB are almost just as bad as each other, it is better to have an ABE. you need to listen to both to be a PAM, and you need to be a PAM to finish, publish and sell your work! If you think your story isn't working, change your point of view as much as your story.

Prompt:
1. Make BOB, ABE and PAM into real people, with the same personalities. See what happens when you flesh them out.
2. Write down ten people who are very important in your life. Here is an example:
Mum, Dad, Best friend, friend,enemy, teacher, teacher,  Friend's Parents, Family friends, close other relatives. Write next to their names if they are a BOB, ABE, or a PAM, or if they don't really pay much attention to your writing. Write a sentence or two about why you chose that for them. If they have no involvement in your work, try telling them about it. If they are a BOB, and you think they could change, ask them what you could do to improve. If their answer is sarcastic, ignore them. They don't deserve to be part of your writing. If you think they are a PAM, show them your work, and keep note of the advice they give you!

Cross Country training-A true story

I wrote this for the meadowbank school 2012 year six end of year magazine- I hope you like it!

I dragged my feet reluctantly to the finish line, swallowing the bile that had risen inside my throat, anticipating what lay ahead. Exhaustion. De-hydration, possibly death.

I could hear Miss Fridd’s voice in the background, but what she was saying was muffled by the blood pumping in my ears, making me almost deaf.

My only sign that the death march had started was the other victims were running around me. Without warning, I realized my feet were moving as well, and at a dangerously fast pace, using up large amounts of my almost non-existent energy.

Everyone seemed to be in front of me. In what little thoughts I had, other than to keep running, I wondered how they were moving so fast without collapsing.

My arms pumped hard, threatening to elbow, and severely injure anyone who might have been lapping me. I could feel, rather than hear my short, jiggered breath as it passed through my dry throat.

My legs were screaming, refusing to go any more than a few centimeters with each step. I couldn’t start walking, not on my first lap, but I doubted I could have stopped them without collapsing on the spot. I resisted the long trip to the water fountain, which seemed like miles, not wanting a stitch.

That was when my pains activated. I put a hand to the place where my neck joined my shoulder, my skin clammy and cold, and would have winced, if not for my already cringed brow. Again, it was aching. 

I moved my hand back and forth, squeezing all the pressure points. Adding to the protests in my leg, a string had been attached from my thigh to my knee, and every time I moved, it was pulled taught. I squeezed my eye lids tight to avoid screaming out in agony.

I passed Miss Fridd, her voice screaming something to me, but I couldn’t hear. Probably shouting for me to keep going, and if I had had enough energy, I would have sighed.

My friends were all running towards me, and automatically, my mouth opened to shout congratulations to my friends, making myself feel miserable.

I started to despair over ever breathing again. All I was doing now was short gasps off air, barely enough to keep me from blacking me out.

Everything was going blurred. The passing figures were bursts of colour, and black spots were appearing everywhere, and bile rose into my mouth. I quickly swallowed it, and reached out for the nearest thing to steady me.

I fairly crawled the next few meters, before I set off again. My only hope was to get there fast, and put an end to what seemed this ever-lasting torture.

If possible, I was running even slower than before, my feet barely moving as I threw them down in front of me.

Slowly a specific figure became more focused, and I realized who it was. Jacqui, who had slowed down since I last saw her, was running at the same pace as I, or at least as close as she could get. I do not think it is possible to be running as slow, or slower, than I was.

She passed over a few jokes about how slow we were, and I laughed, although the laughter hurt my ribs, and I tried to resist the urge to laugh again, managing only in returning a comment.

Jacqui suggested running and walking, although I couldn’t tell her when we were walking that I was truly jogging, and when running, well, I suppose she noticed I was moving slower than her walk.

We passed Miss Fridd, who was screaming again. This time, I was able to make out some words like ‘run’ ‘walk’, and ‘keep going.’ As if we weren’t doing that already.

I wanted to sit down, relax, die, anything but run another lap, but my legs kept moving down the track, knowing that I had to ‘keep going.’

I was so exhausted, what before slightly resembled breathing, now more resembled grunting. Eventually, Jacqui said she wanted to run the rest of the way. I tried. I failed. She ran on ahead. Once at the top of the hill, which seemed more like a mountain, I started to run about as fast as a snail, then I stopped. I tried again, this time running more the pace of a dead snail, barely moving at all.

I carried on, my senses dull, all energy lost, and body aching. I went on for what seemed a life time before I reached what I supposed, was the end. Miss Fridd was screaming again, and I guess I did what she was telling me to do, because two words escaped my deafness. “You’re finished.”

I wanted to collapse, stop breathing, close my eyes for good, anything but walk back to class.

Getting ideas

Once there was some one with a  story to tell. They didn't know what this story was, or how they were going to tell it...

At one point, I had thw worst case of writers block. When you don't even have an idea to start with. I had no ideas. I went on to Think baby names and browsed for some names I would like. I also looked up names on  things like  Yahoo Answers for names. I also wrote down names I already liked.

I wrote down three words for each name/girl. (They were all girls, but you can do the same for boys) Then I chose my favourite four, and wrote down a character questionnaire for them.

Name:

Nickname:

Being:

Age:

Gender:

Appearance:

Way of speaking:

Items she carries with her:

Hobbies:

Talents:

Powers:

Relationships:

Fears:

What they want more than anything else:

Then I chose my favourite from there, and opened a new word document. I wrote down some things that should happen in a story about her, what I would have to show in the story. I made up some other characters, too. Some were from the list, others weren’t. I wrote down three words for each. Here is an example:
artistic, foreign,  stylish or docile, strange, lacks self-confidence

See what you can come up with. Choose twelve or more names. It doesn’t matter if you don't like them. Write down three words for each. Choose three that you like the most, r more If you can;t decide. Write down a character questionnaire for each of them.

Choose one from there you like. If you can’t, choose two, and make a separate page for each of them. Write down what each of their stories would be about. You can weave characters and other things in to this description, too. Choose which one you like most. Put it into a situation, but it doesn’t have to be in the world that the character is going to be in for your story. Maybe they are at a bank robbery. What would they do? Would they stand by and watch, or call the police? Would they run away, or interfere? Once you have written down this, read over it a few times. What else have you learnt about your character?  Maybe nothing, but probably something. The character has spoken through you, and you didn’t realize what the character actually wanted to say and be. Maybe you need to change something’s about your character, maybe you don’t. Think what else you can do with them. Do you have an idea in your little scribbled in notebook? Try putting the character with that idea. See what you get.

Save what you write!

Well, National Novel Writing month has started, and we are all neglecting lie as we know it. Good luck to every one who has entered!

250 words: a day in the life of hair

It’s like the horrible stickiness Joiners’ call rain, only inside. Although joiners run to get out of rain, they turn this on, and purposely go under it! Inside rain makes me heavy, and is turning the mess, into more of a mess! I am clinging on to the Joiner’s scalp for dear life, as my sisters and brothers; my loved ones are pulled and swept down the hole. The Dead ones from last night, who were pulled from their roots, are clinging to me too, making such a mess. The joiner puts this white, foamy, sweet smelling thing on us, and I sigh with relief. It’s like the smell of spring time, when the joiner is sitting down of course. I hate when she has to go for a dizziness ride on the round black thing. The grease is disappearing, but the tangles are staying. “AHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!” I scream, for we’re going back under the rain again. We come out; nice and fresh, no white stuff anymore, just shininess, so much that I screw up where, if I were a Joiner, my eyes would be.  More white stuff comes, and stays, it does practically nothing. But after a few minutes, most of us hairs are free again! No longer tied up in each other! The Joiner’s hand reaches for THE BRUSH.  I hear the scream of all my kin as it pulls at us, taking my neighbour, Hair 1201289 down with it. I close my eyes and hope for the best.

The intense tale of exile, bittersweet love, war, bravery, sacrifice and betrayal

I figured, if you have to do stupid exercises like this, then I should too. Here is my best shot. I won't change it, except for spelling and grammar mistakes.

Exercise: Write an Intense Tale of Exile, involving bittersweet love, war, bravery, sacrifice and betrayal. Set it in the world of Snails!



I stood, with shackles around my antennas, a twisting rope through my shell.
My poor shell, cracking, soon to fall off.
I bet King Dynamo will laugh at the humiliation of me being a slug. A slug, like a commoner, When I was supposed to stand in his shoes, and be King Snivellus II, and win the war. Nelly stands out like a beacon in the crowd, her antennas pulled in enough for the both of us. She has no shell. I remember stealing from the vegetable patch with her only three days ago, her laughter and mine. We stayed there so long our trails disappeared in the sun light. I loved Nelly. I couldn't tell anyone else about our love. Nothing good would come out of it.
The sweet tide lapped against my foot as I was pulled in. I prayed I wouldn't die of hunger. I could breath alright under water, but only for a few days. Some time I would have to come up for air.
I felt the ropes loosen slightly as I got further into the water, my shell fully covered. I knew I was in the shark pool. The shark pool. Shark pool. I kept sliding forwards. No one was holding on to the ropes anymore.
I saw a flash of colour wiz past me, and I froze solid, although it was hard slowing down from such a fast speed.
I wanted to go down there. The only hard part was getting down. I pulled the spiky spear out from inside my shell with great difficulty, and help it ready.
If only Rocket, Lord of the jagged rocks hadn't betrayed me. He thought he would have had the throne. He was wrong. At least now he was Duke of the Coral Reefs, as I was once. Maybe he might trial Dynamo and  become King Rocket XI, King of the Shore line and Emperor of the Rock Pools, and at least he would be better than King Dynamo III. No doubt about it.
The Shark fish's Jaws came towards me. I lunged inside, feeling the heat of 1000 pools dug up from under the sand. I could feet myself being dried up as I slid down the crab-red insides of the fish. Then I remembered the spear. With my last breath, I shoved it through the fishes back, and felt it dieing around me.
My people were safe from the evil being.

Writing exersizes

Writing is not hard. Just get paper and a pencil, and write as it occurs to you. The writing is easy-it's the occurring that's hard.  Stephen Leacock

Un-fortunately, Stephen was right. But here are some exercises that may help you:

• Invent a new magical species. Is it a humanoid? More like an animal? Be free with you answers. If you want to, draw the creature. Use it to carry on with, or start a story. Make the first word the name of the the creature. If you need help with names, go to Google translate, or think up some bizarre words, or even just change normal ones, like Glamoriken. Then decide if there is many of these creatures, like human races, or are they just set ones? What are their names? Where do they come from? Why are they like that?
• What would your dream garden be like? Leave nothing out!
• Who is the lady in the shed? a Witch? Who is the strange dentist with pointy teeth? A vampire? See who in your real life are strange,and turn them into other creatures. Maybe a ratty girl at school is really a harpy!
•  Write a poem about something that happens in ordinary life,but make it slightly more interesting.Here is an example by Ross Bolleter:  

 Washing at night,
Slinging it up cold and heavy,
Wet under the misted stars.

Morning each black T shirts's hung
With powdered galaxies of...
Oh god, and ancient Kleenex.


 STARTS

• It's not Mondays that I hate. Mondays are fine. In fact I love Mondays. I hate what I have to do on Mondays. That is what I hate.
• When I recived my first letter from Enexberg, Mother decided I was strange. When I recived a second, my Mother though I was downright weird.
• Sophie heaved the sack of yard trimmings up the hill, and wiped her forehead with the back of her hand. This was the owrst job ever. 
• I couldn't see. The books were piled to high, my thick, heavy dress slapped against my feet. I knew I had slipped before the shatter of glass. Please don't let Aunt Josephine's vase be broken, I pleaded. I am in enough trouble as it is!
• The girl but her hands on the glowing crystal ball, and her eyes glazed over. "Must go north." she muttered. "Must, go, North."
• I stepped back, hoping she wasn't going to explode.
• The fairy waved her wand. "Hiccup." said Emelia, a feeling of something round entered her mouth. "Hiccup." She bobbed up as the air escaped from her mouth, and sheturned away to plop the round thing out of her  mouth. She stared strangly at it. Could she really have made that? "Wow." she said. The feeling of something sharp entered her mouth. She spat again. In her palm was a five carrot ruby.
• I starred across the empty plains, wondering how we were going to cross them.
• "Be nice" My uncle said, putting his arm between us. "After all, he is your brother."
• I stared at my glass of lemonade, watching the bubbles rise before they turned into nothingness. 
• "But that's life I suppose. You go along, and suddenly...Poof!" 

Still Stuck?

•  Look online and in newspapers for amazing, true stories. Some how them being true makes them even more inspirational.
• Poetry and Songs. Look in your old poetry books, and rumage through your CDs. I bet you will find something worth while!
• Read some fantasy stories, such as fairy tales and folk tales. If your feeling daring, maybe even try making some up on the spot!