Undiscovered

If some of you have me on your MySpace, you may have seen my bulletin about me wanting to write a novel. So I've already started and written a first draft on the prologue *it IS the prologue that goes at the beginning, isn't it? it's been a while since I've written!* Now, it's just an initial idea. This opening may change as my novel unfolds more. I have a rough structure in my head but I prefer to let the story unfold itself, I like my thoughts to run away, I don't control anything. I just type what my thoughts are telling me to type, if you get me.

Anyway, here it is. I er...hope you like it. Gosh I haven't written in ages, feels a bit alien right now...

please tell me your thoughts. I hope you feel gripped at the end of it

Standing here leaning on the cold stone wall, overlooking the River Thames on a warm, summer evening made me realise I had everything in the palm of my hand. I had the world, I had the future, I had life itself.

I'm 24 and next to me was the tall, handsome man I had spent the past two years trying to catch. He smiled a Hollywood smile and the twinkle in his eyes twinkled so bright that the stars above shone furiously down on him out of jealousy. His brown wind-swept hair was still perfect and I, Crystal, was standing next to him. The peaceful river was quite still, with only a few small ripples. The lights from the buildings and the passing headlights from cars on the other side made the Thames glow like a name does in Theatre. The buzz of the street and roads behind us was ignored as the both of us delved into a bubble, the hollering from people and cars muted. The only sound I could hear was the laughter spilling from his and my lips, uncontrollably, as if it were puke I couldn't hold down. In fact, I was laughing so much I thought that I would, in fact, puke.

"No, no, no," he said between fits of giggles, "our future daughter would be called Ermintrude."

"Ermintrude?!" I exclaimed, "Gertrude is much better."

"What if we had a son?" He questioned, his left arm leaning on the cold stone wall and he faced me more, his eyebrows raised as he waited for my answer.

"...We would name him..." I paused, and thought deeply for the most archaic and ghastly name I could muster, "Algernon."

My man stifled a laughter at first, but then erupted like lava spills from the mouth of a volcano. His infectious laugh soon infected me and we once again began to chortle like teenagers, and our music echoed and rebounded from the skyscrapers around us, and passer-bys gave us weird looks but we didn't care. We were in our own world, our own little bubble.

He rested both arms on the wall now, folded, facing out to the river as he stared at the dark ink blue sky. "Where would we live?" He asked, in a soft, tender voice. I copied his body language and sighed thoughtfully, my eyebrows furrowed.

"The country," I answered finally, "Away from the obnoxious, money obsessed city people. We'd be in one of those stony cottages with a path leading up to the wooden door, flowerbeds and shrubs enclosed like our own private mini forest. Good country air, clear skies, new people, privacy..."

"That sounds pretty boring," he snorted. I abruptly turned to face him.

"Alright then, you choose." I mocked. He didn't take long to reply.

"We'd stay here."

"You what?"

"What's wrong with London?"

"You want me to list?" My right arm stayed on the wall, my left hand placed firmly on my hip. I smiled at him, but out of disbelief. "You always complain about London."

"Doesn't mean to say I hate the place. I like the buzz here, the work. I live here, it's my home. It always has been."

"Well maybe it's time for a change."

"You think so?"

He looked at me quizzicly, wondering if my statement was true. I softened and turned to face the wall again, my left hand closing in on his.

"Don't you think a break would do us good? We've had a lot going on."

He breathed heavily through his nose and his shoulders dropped, relaxed. He looked down.

"I know. Maybe a break is calling us after all."

I leaned in closer to him, breathing in his scent, feeling his muscles underneath his crispy jacket, and eventually my hand snaked round the small of his back into a tight hug. His head rested on top of mine.

"We could live here during the winter and spring for work, and then move to the country house for the summer and autumn. A break for us and a break for our future children. We'd live a perfect lifestyle."

"That doesn't sound too bad."

He felt his eyelashes droop and I knew he had closed his eyes, dreaming of our future. Together.

The moon was high in the sky now and I knew it was well past midnight, yet the city ceased to sleep. The water and time itself felt as though it had come to standstill, it seemed we were separated from reality.

My thoughts started to waver and I was finding it difficult to see him standing next to me. I was tuning in and out like a television finding it hard to discover a signal; someone's voice was shouting but the sound indistinguishable; the images around me changed to a grubby, dirty ceiling, and back to a perfect twlight sky; back and forth, back and forth like a tennis match, the crowd was jeering and cheering behind, but everything was soon muffled.

My eyes fully opened and I heard the loudest bang on the door. Everytime I heard the rattle my brain rattled with it, pulsating like a heart about to explode. My eyes squinted and winced everytime they clashed. I tried to speak with my mind as my mouth was unwilling to open, but the headache continued.

"OI, YOU GOTTA GET UP, WORK STARTS IN TWO HOURS AND YOU HAVEN'T EVEN GONE IN THE BATHROOM YET! I START WORK IN HALF AN HOUR AND YOU TAKE LONGER THAN I DO!"

I grabbed my pillow and placed it over my ears, hoping it would all go away. My eyes opened to a blurry vision of my bedside cabinet next to me, which was smothered with a Ben and Jerry's ice cream tub, tablets, a glass of water, tissues and a few chocolate wrappers.

Now it all came back to me, and it all made sense.

We weren't separated from reality. I was.

That sounds like my life. The last few sentences anyway.

wow, no replies. does it suck that much?

wow, no replies. does it suck that much?

You're so impatient, girl, we've hardly had time to read it!

That sounds like my life. The last few sentences anyway.

YAAAAAAAAY a replyyyyy!!!

erm...so...is this a or ?

You're so impatient, girl, we've hardly had time to read it!

well, i posted this, replied in your leona thread, went to check this thread out but it was already on the second page

YAAAAAAAAY a replyyyyy!!!

 

erm...so...is this a or ?

Well, it's hard to tell, because obviously the prologue isn't how the novel is going to pan out?

I kind of like the idea that you're waking up to chocolate wrappers and ice cream cartons, I prefer contemporary novels to be pretty well rooted in reality.

I love it! Now I'm waiting for Chapter 1:biggrin2:

I hate when that happens - I'll be having this perfect, wonderful encounter with the greatest guy ever created... and then I'll wake up:boxed:

Well, it's hard to tell, because obviously the prologue isn't how the novel is going to pan out?

I kind of like the idea that you're waking up to chocolate wrappers and ice cream cartons, I prefer contemporary novels to be pretty well rooted in reality.

well it might do, it might not. You'll have to find out won't you

I know this beginning is kind of cliché, you know, the whole dream thing then waking up from it, but hopefully the rest of it will be rooted into as much reality as possible. I guess I'm kind of inputting myself in Crystal's shoes; I'm always living in a daydream world and I guess that's kind of how she lives too, but unfortunately for her, an anvil dropped on her head. ever read a Sophie Kinsella book? she's a big inspiration to me.

I love it! Now I'm waiting for Chapter 1:biggrin2:

 

I hate when that happens - I'll the having this perfect, wonderful encounter with the greatest guy ever created... and then I'll wake up:boxed:

sad, isn't it?

see Bab? Told ya no-one was interested

It's dull on here tonight, everyone must be out. I was going to meet Laura and Jennie, but still not feeling great.

It's dull on here tonight, everyone must be out. I was going to meet Laura and Jennie, but still not feeling great.

oh, i just thought everyone was sucked in into their own individual threads with their friends.

you were gonna go out with laura and jennie? i love how a range of ages get on so well. i wish i lived nearer you guys, or lived in a house without a restricting mother. so what's wrong? got the snuffles?

oh, i just thought everyone was sucked in into their own individual threads with their friends.

you were gonna go out with laura and jennie? i love how a range of ages get on so well. i wish i lived nearer you guys, or lived in a house without a restricting mother. so what's wrong? got the snuffles?

I know, they are such funny girls, a real laugh, they're going to see The Vibrants. I had a virus like cough and cold since about 3 weeks, but the worst thing is it's just making me feel really weak.

I know, they are such funny girls, a real laugh, they're going to see The Vibrants. I had a virus like cough and cold since about 3 weeks, but the worst thing is it's just making me feel really weak.

yeah i love those two girls

ohhh i had a cough for a little over a week. it was diabolical; the coughing fits were an absolute nightmare to live with, especially when trying to serve someone at work or trying to get to sleep. seriously, that tickly coughs knows exactly when to strike! i assume you've been to the doctors?

Gosh, I have to bump this thread already?

That sounds like my life. The last few sentences anyway.

Me too.

Caz I love stories about my beloved River Thames.

I always like your dialogue - whether you're joking around or writing a story.

Hope you're feeling better soon Bab.

Miss all of you in England.

Me too.

 

Caz I love stories about my beloved River Thames.

 

I always like your dialogue - whether you're joking around or writing a story.

 

Hope you're feeling better soon Bab.

 

Miss all of you in England.

Oh Christine I love you, I really do come live back in London! You could live in your old area again, and you know what that means...

you know what? I'm glad you were my "concert buddy" =]

buuuuuuuuuuuuuump!

Buuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuummmp!!!!!!!!!!1

I really like your story! I wish I could write like that!

Its great!

I wanna read more!

Oh Christine I love you, I really do come live back in London! You could live in your old area again, and you know what that means...

 

you know what? I'm glad you were my "concert buddy" =]

I wish I could!

I'm glad you were at the Apollo too. Here's M giving us some love.

I really like your story! I wish I could write like that!

yaaaaaaaaay! thank you!!

Its great!

 

I wanna read more!

wooohooooooo!!!!!!!!

I wish I could!

I'm glad you were at the Apollo too. Here's M giving us some love.

 

i love you even more

If some of you have me on your MySpace, you may have seen my bulletin about me wanting to write a novel. So I've already started and written a first draft on the prologue *it IS the prologue that goes at the beginning, isn't it? it's been a while since I've written!* Now, it's just an initial idea. This opening may change as my novel unfolds more. I have a rough structure in my head but I prefer to let the story unfold itself, I like my thoughts to run away, I don't control anything. I just type what my thoughts are telling me to type, if you get me.

 

Anyway, here it is. I er...hope you like it. Gosh I haven't written in ages, feels a bit alien right now...

 

please tell me your thoughts. I hope you feel gripped at the end of it

 

Prologue

 

Standing here leaning on the cold stone wall, overlooking the River Thames on a warm, summer evening made me realise I had everything in the palm of my hand. I had the world, I had the future, I had life itself.

 

I'm 24 and next to me was the tall, handsome man I had spent the past two years trying to catch. He smiled a Hollywood smile and the twinkle in his eyes twinkled so bright that the stars above shone furiously down on him out of jealousy. His brown wind-swept hair was still perfect and I, Crystal, was standing next to him. The peaceful river was quite still, with only a few small ripples. The lights from the buildings and the passing headlights from cars on the other side made the Thames glow like a name does in Theatre. The buzz of the street and roads behind us was ignored as the both of us delved into a bubble, the hollering from people and cars muted. The only sound I could hear was the laughter spilling from his and my lips, uncontrollably, as if it were puke I couldn't hold down. In fact, I was laughing so much I thought that I would, in fact, puke.

 

"No, no, no," he said between fits of giggles, "our future daughter would be called Ermintrude."

"Ermintrude?!" I exclaimed, "Gertrude is much better."

"What if we had a son?" He questioned, his left arm leaning on the cold stone wall and he faced me more, his eyebrows raised as he waited for my answer.

"...We would name him..." I paused, and thought deeply for the most archaic and ghastly name I could muster, "Algernon."

My man stifled a laughter at first, but then erupted like lava spills from the mouth of a volcano. His infectious laugh soon infected me and we once again began to chortle like teenagers, and our music echoed and rebounded from the skyscrapers around us, and passer-bys gave us weird looks but we didn't care. We were in our own world, our own little bubble.

He rested both arms on the wall now, folded, facing out to the river as he stared at the dark ink blue sky. "Where would we live?" He asked, in a soft, tender voice. I copied his body language and sighed thoughtfully, my eyebrows furrowed.

"The country," I answered finally, "Away from the obnoxious, money obsessed city people. We'd be in one of those stony cottages with a path leading up to the wooden door, flowerbeds and shrubs enclosed like our own private mini forest. Good country air, clear skies, new people, privacy..."

"That sounds pretty boring," he snorted. I abruptly turned to face him.

"Alright then, you choose." I mocked. He didn't take long to reply.

"We'd stay here."

"You what?"

"What's wrong with London?"

"You want me to list?" My right arm stayed on the wall, my left hand placed firmly on my hip. I smiled at him, but out of disbelief. "You always complain about London."

"Doesn't mean to say I hate the place. I like the buzz here, the work. I live here, it's my home. It always has been."

"Well maybe it's time for a change."

"You think so?"

He looked at me quizzicly, wondering if my statement was true. I softened and turned to face the wall again, my left hand closing in on his.

"Don't you think a break would do us good? We've had a lot going on."

He breathed heavily through his nose and his shoulders dropped, relaxed. He looked down.

"I know. Maybe a break is calling us after all."

I leaned in closer to him, breathing in his scent, feeling his muscles underneath his crispy jacket, and eventually my hand snaked round the small of his back into a tight hug. His head rested on top of mine.

"We could live here during the winter and spring for work, and then move to the country house for the summer and autumn. A break for us and a break for our future children. We'd live a perfect lifestyle."

"That doesn't sound too bad."

He felt his eyelashes droop and I knew he had closed his eyes, dreaming of our future. Together.

 

The moon was high in the sky now and I knew it was well past midnight, yet the city ceased to sleep. The water and time itself felt as though it had come to standstill, it seemed we were separated from reality.

 

My thoughts started to waver and I was finding it difficult to see him standing next to me. I was tuning in and out like a television finding it hard to discover a signal; someone's voice was shouting but the sound indistinguishable; the images around me changed to a grubby, dirty ceiling, and back to a perfect twlight sky; back and forth, back and forth like a tennis match, the crowd was jeering and cheering behind, but everything was soon muffled.

 

My eyes fully opened and I heard the loudest bang on the door. Everytime I heard the rattle my brain rattled with it, pulsating like a heart about to explode. My eyes squinted and winced everytime they clashed. I tried to speak with my mind as my mouth was unwilling to open, but the headache continued.

 

"OI, YOU GOTTA GET UP, WORK STARTS IN TWO HOURS AND YOU HAVEN'T EVEN GONE IN THE BATHROOM YET! I START WORK IN HALF AN HOUR AND YOU TAKE LONGER THAN I DO!"

 

I grabbed my pillow and placed it over my ears, hoping it would all go away. My eyes opened to a blurry vision of my bedside cabinet next to me, which was smothered with a Ben and Jerry's ice cream tub, tablets, a glass of water, tissues and a few chocolate wrappers.

 

Now it all came back to me, and it all made sense.

 

We weren't separated from reality. I was.

I admit, when I started reading this I though "here goes another teenage girl writing a soppy novel" but at the end I realised that it was just a dream.

Advice? I'd suggest that you don't go for something as long as a novel if you don't a very well planned out plot: I think that there's no point in having many nicely written chapters if the overall picture isn't sound. That's why a lot of people start off writing short stories (although they're a challenge in their own right as you have to cram a lot in a very short word limit, that really helps you hone your descriptive skills and learn to cut out the unnecessary words, it's also good for learning how to write individual scenes and scenarios). Another tip would be to not use as many metaphors. I'm hoping that the excessive use of metaphors in the prologue was intended to make the dream sound soppy and unrealistic and contrast with the blandness of her real life. Sometimes straightforward language can be just as effective in conjuring imagery.

I'm not expert on anything so take my criticisms with a big pinch of salt. Good luck with the rest of your story.

Thank you Scut!

Everything I write isn't official...just initial. No doubt things will change. I won't be posting all my chapters here, just that prologue. What I tend to do is to let my thoughts run away and I just write them down, like I explained earlier. Once that is done, THAT is when the "cleaning up" process occurs. I guess they're just extra long, jotted notes

I know the whole dream thing is also a cliché, like I again explained earlier...

I know this beginning is kind of cliché, you know, the whole dream thing then waking up from it, but hopefully the rest of it will be rooted into as much reality as possible. I guess I'm kind of inputting myself in Crystal's shoes; I'm always living in a daydream world and I guess that's kind of how she lives too, but unfortunately for her, an anvil dropped on her head. ever read a Sophie Kinsella book? she's a big inspiration to me.

But I suppose it also depends on what genre you like most....and sometimes it's not what you write but how you write it. I'm not a huge click flick fan but I do adore Click literature (I have no idea why ) and I guess I'm writing that kind of novel. It's humanly impossible to appeal to everyone though I try my best to make as many people as happy as I can...

but quite obviously, it's not all finished yet...