cavykaitlyn
Well-known Member
Cavy Slave
- Joined
- Feb 27, 2013
- Posts
- 585
- Joined
- Feb 27, 2013
- Messages
- 585
Hey! It's been a bit since I was in The Cafe. I'm going to apologize for any late responses up front, as I have gotten my iPhone and my Kindle taken away and can only post from the family computer.
So my big ol' question is...:
Do we have any writers out there? I posted a few of my poems here in The Cafe in April, and everyone was SO enthusiastic about it! I've always wanted to be a writer, actually. It started in first grade, when I had to write a story. I wrote about a man named Chandler (who had "mystical powers") who was mortal enemies with my MC, a man who had no name. I named the enemy Chandler because there was a guy in our neighborhood named Chandler and I didn't like him much. He shot my friend (who was named Katelyn) with a paintball gun.
Later on I would write a series in fifth grade, continuing my first grade works. I received a Glenmar journal from my science teacher, which I found amusing, because the MC's home was in the glen. I wrote about them from first grade all the way up until about seventh grade. I still have every last one of the stories. Most are in my Glenmar, some are in my blue folder, which has stickers on it (a snail, a dinosaur, a cheeseburger--I was random).
I'm going to post an excerpt from my novel I'm writing, along with the plot summary, because I want to hear what people think. It's called THREE:
THREE, a Summary:
THREE tells the tale of three women living in Jackrow, Oklahoma, back in 1924. They have barely any money, and when things get rough, they plan to rob the bank. Things spin out of hand, however, and the three earn the label of cold-blooded killers. After a run-in with an FBI agent, the middle woman is captured, and is set to be hung. The only way to save her is to make sure it never happened. Can the three of them turn back time? Or will they get caught?
Excerpt from THREE:
Jackrow, 1924. Three women hurried down a busy street, eager to reach their destination. When they arrived at the doors of the diner, Clarissa, clad in a coat and shawl, led the others inside, leaving behind the biting cold.
Inside the new diner it was warm and bustling with people. Music played from quarter-run machines on every table. The trio was soon greeted by a friendly waiter, who showed them to their seats. He departed, leaving the three of them staring at one another.
“Clydette,” said Clarissa, addressing the woman bundled in a luxurious fur coat.
“Yes?” said Clydette. She glanced at Clarissa.
“We need more money,” said Clarissa. She had become desperate.
“I know,” sighed Clydette. Though the three of them had never lived together, they had agreed to help pay each other's bills. Over the last few months, however, income had been low, and they were losing the little money they had. The most valuable thing they had between them was Clydette's fur coat, and since she wouldn't sell it, they had to come up with other solutions. Odd jobs, extra shifts, and selling possessions were among those tried in the past. It was time for something new.
“Ruth,” said Clarissa, exasperated. “What should we do?”
A sly smile lit up Ruth's tiny face. “I think,” she said quietly, her eyes wild, “that we should rob the bank.”
“Shh,” hissed Clydette. “Keep it down!” She leaned in closer. “Besides, where could you get such an idea?”
“Well, we need money, and the bank has it.” replied Ruth, as if it were obvious. “With your weapons, my speed, and Clarissa's smarts, we can pull this off for sure.”
Clydette exhaled loudly. “Clarissa, tell her it's not possible.”
Clarissa pondered this for a moment. “Actually,” she said, smiling, “it sounds pretty possible. Easy, even.”
Widening her eyes in alarm, Clydette said, “But we could be caught! Imprisoned! Killed! I'm only twenty-one!”
This was true, thought Clarissa. In Jackrow, when things were stolen, the thief had to pay the price of the stolen object. If they couldn't or wouldn't, they were executed by the police. It was a harsh policy, but nonetheless an effective one.
“But that's what we have you for,” piped up Ruth. “You could take out the cops for us!”
“Take them out?” asked Clydette, shocked. “But there's a ton of them, and only one of me!”
“No worries,” said Clarissa. “I've got something planned already.”
I had to take out the cover because it had my last name on it. Tell me what you think! And if there ARE any writers, let me know! We can do something fun! I'm already working on a new novel!
And sorry about the long post
So my big ol' question is...:
Do we have any writers out there? I posted a few of my poems here in The Cafe in April, and everyone was SO enthusiastic about it! I've always wanted to be a writer, actually. It started in first grade, when I had to write a story. I wrote about a man named Chandler (who had "mystical powers") who was mortal enemies with my MC, a man who had no name. I named the enemy Chandler because there was a guy in our neighborhood named Chandler and I didn't like him much. He shot my friend (who was named Katelyn) with a paintball gun.
Later on I would write a series in fifth grade, continuing my first grade works. I received a Glenmar journal from my science teacher, which I found amusing, because the MC's home was in the glen. I wrote about them from first grade all the way up until about seventh grade. I still have every last one of the stories. Most are in my Glenmar, some are in my blue folder, which has stickers on it (a snail, a dinosaur, a cheeseburger--I was random).
I'm going to post an excerpt from my novel I'm writing, along with the plot summary, because I want to hear what people think. It's called THREE:
THREE, a Summary:
THREE tells the tale of three women living in Jackrow, Oklahoma, back in 1924. They have barely any money, and when things get rough, they plan to rob the bank. Things spin out of hand, however, and the three earn the label of cold-blooded killers. After a run-in with an FBI agent, the middle woman is captured, and is set to be hung. The only way to save her is to make sure it never happened. Can the three of them turn back time? Or will they get caught?
Excerpt from THREE:
Jackrow, 1924. Three women hurried down a busy street, eager to reach their destination. When they arrived at the doors of the diner, Clarissa, clad in a coat and shawl, led the others inside, leaving behind the biting cold.
Inside the new diner it was warm and bustling with people. Music played from quarter-run machines on every table. The trio was soon greeted by a friendly waiter, who showed them to their seats. He departed, leaving the three of them staring at one another.
“Clydette,” said Clarissa, addressing the woman bundled in a luxurious fur coat.
“Yes?” said Clydette. She glanced at Clarissa.
“We need more money,” said Clarissa. She had become desperate.
“I know,” sighed Clydette. Though the three of them had never lived together, they had agreed to help pay each other's bills. Over the last few months, however, income had been low, and they were losing the little money they had. The most valuable thing they had between them was Clydette's fur coat, and since she wouldn't sell it, they had to come up with other solutions. Odd jobs, extra shifts, and selling possessions were among those tried in the past. It was time for something new.
“Ruth,” said Clarissa, exasperated. “What should we do?”
A sly smile lit up Ruth's tiny face. “I think,” she said quietly, her eyes wild, “that we should rob the bank.”
“Shh,” hissed Clydette. “Keep it down!” She leaned in closer. “Besides, where could you get such an idea?”
“Well, we need money, and the bank has it.” replied Ruth, as if it were obvious. “With your weapons, my speed, and Clarissa's smarts, we can pull this off for sure.”
Clydette exhaled loudly. “Clarissa, tell her it's not possible.”
Clarissa pondered this for a moment. “Actually,” she said, smiling, “it sounds pretty possible. Easy, even.”
Widening her eyes in alarm, Clydette said, “But we could be caught! Imprisoned! Killed! I'm only twenty-one!”
This was true, thought Clarissa. In Jackrow, when things were stolen, the thief had to pay the price of the stolen object. If they couldn't or wouldn't, they were executed by the police. It was a harsh policy, but nonetheless an effective one.
“But that's what we have you for,” piped up Ruth. “You could take out the cops for us!”
“Take them out?” asked Clydette, shocked. “But there's a ton of them, and only one of me!”
“No worries,” said Clarissa. “I've got something planned already.”
I had to take out the cover because it had my last name on it. Tell me what you think! And if there ARE any writers, let me know! We can do something fun! I'm already working on a new novel!
And sorry about the long post 
