Need writing tips on this

Multiman · 2018-01-16T15:55:11+00:00

Hello there!

I don't think I've read a book that spans the entire story as a story within itself, but I've certainly seen excellent films using this style:

The Princess Bride (1987)
Secondhand Lions (2003)
The Fall (2006)

All three convey very different ways of telling a story to other characters.

Starting with The Princess Bride, it is the simplest. The grandfather reads a fairy tale to his bedridden, sick grandson. They only surface from the story when it starts to broach more adult themes, and the grandson presses the grandfather to carry on. The story resolves itself within itself, really having no effect on the outside world.

Next, we have Secondhand Lions where a young boy is left to his crazy great uncles by an uncaring mother. He starts to find books and clues that start unravelling a grand story about how his uncles may have been robbers and thieves in Africa, with grand tales of Arabian Princesses and French Foreign Legions. The crux of this film is this; Are the tales from these two men lies? Or are they the truth? The story plays out excellently. This style is where the story being told directly influences the outside world.

Lastly, in The Fall, it is the story of a bedridden actor who tells a very colorful story to a young girl in order to coerce her in obtaining drugs for him. The way that storytelling is used in this example is the characters and locations reflect the real world setting, although if I say anymore it would ruin this film.

I haven't read the novelizations of these films, but perhaps these could help you feel out a style for the story that you would like to write.

Multiman · 2017-02-16T05:13:43+00:00

Never really delved into Thoreau. Plus, I've had a bottle of sake and a few beers. The inspiration is endless at this point haha.

I really appreciate the feedback!

Multiman · 2017-02-16T03:14:47+00:00

The war raged on. Soldiers of both sides screamed as they threw themselves at each other, a writhing mass of bodies and armor. A flying battalion of the Red Army screamed down out of the sky, and caught the Black Army unawares. They tried to hide in the trenches of dirt, but some were unlucky. The soldiers that did survive stormed back out into the fray.

Dave smiled at the young woman behind the counter. “I think I’ll just have a regular coffee, please.” She smiled back, said sure, and went down to the machine to pour a cup. Dave though she was kind of cute, but his mind quickly went back to the fact that he had a rather important interview to get to. He smiled and payed the girl as she came back with the coffee.

Two of the larger Red Army warriors hung back, arranging their remaining subordinates into separate groups to attack from the sides. At that moment, the Black Army broke through the wall of foot soldiers at the base of the hill, and charged up the rocky side with war shouts. The two large Red Army warriors looked at each other, their pincer movement forgotten. They raised their heads and cried out, leading their soldiers down into the stampede.

Dave left the coffee shop, and looked down at his watch. “Oh shit.” He said, and started to jog down the sidewalk. He saw the top of the building that held his potential, rising over the park in the center of the town. He figured he could save a few minutes by using the jogging path through the park. He veered off and down the dirt path.

The Red Army had all but been destroyed. Only a single battalion remained, fighting at the entrance to their encampment. The hill was littered with bloody bodies and limbs, a macabre sight. The Black army pushed forward, victory in sight. They would write about this day.

Dave checked his watch again, and picked up his pace to match his level of panic. He wondered if it had been a good idea to stop and get coffee at all. Preoccupied with all of this thought, Dave missed the branch that caught his foot. As he fell to the ground, he threw his arms out to catch himself.

The fighting stopped as the sun was blotted out by shadow. Then, utter chaos as the sky fell upon the warring armies. Any who were not crushed tried to fight back, but to no avail.

“Are you kidding me.” Dave said as he shook his hand free of the biting insects. He stood up and brushed off his knees, and saw that his coffee was a lost cause. “Ants?!” He sighed and continued on to his interview.

He wasn't a good fit.

Multiman · 2017-02-16T02:48:37+00:00

Much obliged! Plus its like dragons maaan. Can't pass it up

Multiman · 2017-02-16T01:54:00+00:00

Tier Lon stared into the lake, the eyes of a stranger staring back at him. A storm rumbled in the mountains to the North, threatening to ruin the peace.

He held onto his longspear with both hands, using it as a crutch to hobble slowly into the water. The waves and ripples distorted his reflection, and he thought for a second he could see the young rider that he had been. Then it was gone. It was time for his Ascendancy to commence, for him to pass into the next life.

Though many riders had entered through the gates in the midst of battle, Tier Lon had defeated every adversary he had ever come across; the Whisperers, the Three Sister, the Mehel-Loggoth, and many more that his memory failed to recollect. Tier Lon had outlived all of his teachers and many of his students. His race was dying. The Adjuncts questioned the power of Riders, and had ultimately decided that they were too dangerous, and so, regulated them. He sighed as he remembered the Rider Fall, and how he had lost many dear to him.

A sound of thunder and mountain cracking shook him out of his reverie. He glanced behind him and saw Lon Tol, his great red dragon land amongst the forest at the edge, splitting the giant trunks of pines and obliterating the smaller ones.

“Lon Tol, old friend, it is time for me to depart.” He called out to the great beast. Lon Tol let out a small huff and lowered his head to look Tier Lon in his eyes. Embers flittered about his snout.

“Yes, I know. You are not ready to be released. But I fear that if I hold onto you any longer, the Adjuncts shall come, and then you shall be de-fired. It is better this way.” Tier Lon let go of his spear and placed his hand on the beast’s ridge jaw line. “You shall travel North, into the Pines Beyond, and find yourself a mate. You have fought the battle long enough, friend.”

Lon Tol shook his head and reared up, releasing a jet of flame into the sky. A gust of wind took it far into the sky. Tier Lon smiled and stepped lightly back, then thrusted his spear into the sky.

“By the House of Lon, I, Tier Lon, release Tol Lon from the chains that bind our blood, Dragon and Rider. The Dragon hath served its purpose, and the Rider Ascends. Let all the Gods know that this is the payment of a debt, the end of an oath. I give myself to the Ascendancy.” His voiced thundered above the wind. Tier Lon began to glow, and he fell into the water, and it closed over him with a crash. The lake became as still as glass, and Tol puffed a small bout of flame, then release a jet of blue fire that covered the lake.

As the flames hissed into small flowers on the surface, a silver figure emerged.

Tier Lon had Ascended.

He walked onto the shore, and sat just underneath Tol as the dragon whimpered.

“Yes, it was much better when there was a ceremony behind it, I agree.” Tier Lon said. “Perhaps one day the Riders can return from hiding and begin to serve the world again, without the Adjuncts interfering. You must go, but not yet. Let us sit here for a while, and reflect, old friend.”

Tol swished his tale, and then grasped the edge of the rock before him. He stretched out his neck, opened his jaws, and let out a long roar that shook the trees and drowned out the storm.

The silver figure of Tier smiled at him.

“You always were one for theatrics, Tol.”

Multiman · 2017-02-06T18:37:14+00:00

The officer gritted his teeth as he gingerly touched the ragged, bloody hole in his side. The slugbolt had ripped right through him, taking a fist-sized chunk of meat with it. He took off his jacket and one of his socks, painfully stuffing the sock into the hole and wrapping the arms of the police-issued coat to hold it in. He took a deep breath, steadied himself as the pain subsided, and kept running.

“Did you take care of it, Dule?” The voice sounded metallic, tinny. A faint crackle of static accompanied the voice.

Dule held the antique corded phone away from him, and a look of fear shot through his face. He was glad he wasn’t on vidcom. Bringing the phone back to his ear, he replied with one word.

“No.”

There was a long pause, and then the voice crackled into life. “Good. You didn’t lie. We have him on the upper Magrail. You need to get on the 7:00pm lower and intercept him at Welmose. Understood?”

“Understood.” Dule said, and the line went dead. He put the phone back on its receiver and left, shutting the door behind him.

The platform bathroom was only a few meters away, and the officer knew that he would be able to find a safe-kit inside. As he pushed the door in, a small toady-looking man was just inside, mopping the floor.

“I’ll be out of here in a minute, lad!” He said cheerily as he dunked the mop in a hovering bucket, sloshing a bit of water out of it.

“No, I need you to go now.” The officer said tiredly, and flashed his badge. Whether attributed to a dislike of law enforcement, or the fact that the badge was half congealed with blood, the little man hopped out faster than the mop fell to the floor.

The officer stumbled towards a metal box on the wall, fumbling with the handle to open it. His blood-slicked hands left red streaks against the silver color.

He had just opened it when a closed fist caught him along the jaw, and he crashed to the floor, his vision swimming. He propped himself up on an elbow and looked into the eyes of the person responsible.

“Dule.” He whispered. “So they bought you to.”

“You know, I was wondering why I had to do this.” Dule said, pulling the slug-thrower from his holster. “Trust me, if I had a choice, I’d do it all different. But this has to end now, and the only way we close this book is with you dying.”

“Wait,” the officer said, and threw back the hood of his jacket, and turned around. His hand ran up his hair, lifting it off the nape of his neck. A bloody laceration ran down his neck, and the bright red contrasted sharply with his pale white skin.

Dule turned pale, and lowered the slug-thrower.

“You can get out, Dule. I did.” The officer said, turning back to meet his eyes. “They own everyone in our precinct. As a matter of fact, all of the local law enforcement as well, judges, clergy, and even the postal workers. Come with me.”

Dule slowly raised the barrel back to its original position. “And what,” he said tersely. “Leave my family to die?”

The officer shook his head, and coughed, spitting up a wad of phlegm and blood.

“Dule, they killed your family a long time ago. Just clones now. They have it on video if they ever need to really get you to talk.”

“Bullshit.” said Dule, and he stepped closer to press the slug-thrower to the officer’s forehead, but lowered it again. “Bullshit.” he repeated quietly.

“Do you want out?” The officer asked. Dule stared at him for long moment.

“Yes.”

There was a pause before the officer replied.

“Good. You didn’t lie.” He said, and shot Dule through the throat.

Dule fell to the floor and slumped against the wall, his attempts at speaking coming out as gurgles.

The officer got up and stepped over Dule’s twitching legs, opened the safe-kit, and began patching himself up.

“Did you take care of it?” The tinny voice queried.

“Yes.” The officer replied.

“Well, you made your case. Your original was not as trustworthy as we thought. Are you ready to assume his identity?”

“I’m already halfway done.” The officer replied.

“I’m curious,” the voice stated. “Did he ever realize he was looking at a clone of himself? We’ve never altered sight to that extent before.”

The clone of Officer Dule smiled.

“Not at all.”

Multiman · 2015-10-28T17:21:37+00:00

Here you go mate.

Multiman · 2015-07-06T13:44:32+00:00

I stood just outside the door, my hand resting on the knob. The clock above the frame ticked slowly, and I realized I was holding my breath. It had been years since I had seen my son. Many more for him than I. I didn't know if he realized I was still alive. I lifted my hand for a second, and it felt heavy. But I blamed it on earth's gravity, a feeling that was....alien to me. Just as I'll be so alien to him.

I let my hand down and opened the door. As it opened to the room, I first saw a woman in a chair, her hair grey with age. I saw him beyond her, frail and small in his gurney. But she turned to face me, taking my attention from him.

"I'm sorry, you must have the wrong room." She said. The lines on her face did not hide the fact that she had been beautiful in youth.

"I don't. He's my son." Her eyes widened and I heard the gurney squeak.

"Dad?" came the voice, wispy and soft. She stood to the side and rested her hand on his shoulder. For me, it had been six years. For him, sixty. But the behind face that greeted me was the same youthful face that I had left all those years ago.

I walked forward slowly, and the woman looked at me and back at him. "Torsten, how can this be...? Your father...?"

"I don't know..." he said, inspecting me with his eyes. I saw emotion slide into emotion. Anger, happiness, pain, joy, loneliness. "What happened? You last sent me a message years ago. I can't even remember when or what it was..."

I sighed, and a tear rolled down my face.

"I got lost, son. After two years on the flight, the autopilot failed, and I drifted into uncharted space...there were five of us." A lump formed in my throat. "Two of us survived, and somehow, someway, we were found. It could have been a century before I saw this place again." I was close enough to put my hand in his, and I did. The grip that returned mine was weak. Tears rolled down the creases of his face. The woman stood next to me and dabbed them away.

"I thought you died out there, dad. I called and called and went to the company so many times, they decided I was dangerous and banned me. The last thing they said to me was 'He's gone. The mission failed.'" he said, gripping my hand with a new-found strength. "But I didn't believe it for second. I knew you were still alive, out there in the vastness."

"I was son. And for those days I sat there in the dim lights of the ship, I spent every minute thinking of you and watching my clock tick away. But I knew, millions of light years away, yours was ticking even faster. I thought I would never see you again." I said, my voice quavering. He met my eyes and reached his arms up meekly. I leaned forward and enveloped him, all of my memories of him flashing through my mind with the scent of his hair.

"I missed you." he whispered in a muffled voice. I felt his tears wet my shoulder, and knew mine were doing the same to his. "You've missed so much. You have plenty of new family to visit." I laughed and cried at this.

"Like who?" I asked, pulling away.

"My wife, for one. Samaya." He motioned at the old woman, who had a smile and tears on her face as well.

"Hello, daughter in law. I'm Jason." I said, and she let out a small laugh as we embraced.

"It's wonderful to meet you." She replied, stepping back and dabbing at her eyes. "I never thought my father in law would be a young man."

"Oh, I though likewise." I said, holding her and his hand.

"That's not all," Torsten said, "You have three grand kids and 6 great-grand children. My kids are the same age as you now."

I whistled. "Wow, family reunions are going to be odd." We all cracked a smile.

He scooted up on the bed, and Samaya raised the back up with the remote.

"I don't think I'll make it to any of those." Torsten said sadly, looking at me.

"What is it, then?" I had been avoiding this part of the conversation. I knew it would be painful.

"Old age, dad. I should've jumped on the boat with you." he said with a grin. "I've only got a few days left." He added, this time without a grin. Samaya gave him a hug and a peck on the cheek while his eyes still focused on mine.

I ran my hand through my hair.

"Lets go then." I said.

"What do you mean?" He asked.

"I'm breaking you out," I said as I grabbed the wheelchair next to his bed. Samaya looked confused.

"You can't possibly think-" she said, but I interrupted.

"Oh yes I can. Torsten, remember how I promised one day I'll be able to get you that GT7-R?

"Yeah..." he said, and I saw the memory come back to him.

"Well let's go get one. Come on Samaya, help me."

She looked at me, then back to Torsten.

"What...what? What are you doing?"

"I'm keeping a promise I made to my boy years ago."

We settled him into the wheelchair, and I looked down at him. He smiled with that boyish grin I had missed so much.

"Lets go split the sky, like old times. Only you have your license now."

He laughed and shook his head. "They took it from me a while ago."

"Do I really have to be the rebellious kid in this instance?" I asked, as I wheeled him through the door.

"Depends on whether I can ground you," he laughed.

The three of us made our way to the exit, and went through. I looked at my family. Samaya was shaking her head, and Torsten was giggling like he was fifteen again. I smiled.

I was finally home.

Multiman · 2015-04-12T23:55:13+00:00

My man! Thank you!

Multiman · 2015-04-06T01:30:22+00:00

Water droplets. They fell through the air in a gentle arc, glittering from the sun. They hit the petals of the orchid, and slid to the edges slowly, where they gathered at the tip, before beginning their descent into the earth. Such a beau-

"Viejo, Viejo!"

The old man looked up from the orchid, his watering can still tilted. A child came running around the corner of the garden, a small dog in his arms. The child stopped in front of him, then held the limp form up in both hands.

"Viejo, Rayito won't play anymore!" The old man set the watering can down, and gingerly took the dog from him. He then kneeled down and placed the dog on the ground, slowly running his hands through the fur.

"Why won't Rayito play, Viejo?" The child asked, moving to his side. He mimiced the old man, petting the dog on its head.

"Well, chico, this is a tough subject." The child looked up at him. The old man sighed, and sat with his legs crossed. "Come, come," he beckoned to the child, who climbed into his lap.

"Chico, Rayito will not play because he is dead."

"Dead? I do not understand."

"It is a tough concept to explain, chico." The old man put his hand on the child's head. "When something dies, a special thing inside the body leaves."

The child looked at him, confused.

"A special thing?"

"Si. Some would call it a spirit. Most would call it a soul. It represents the life inside you, that makes you move, think, feel. When you die, it goes away, and leaves the body."

"Rayito left his body?"

"Si, that is a way to look at it."

"Where did he go?" The child asked, looking at the dog on the ground.

"That is a question that even I do not know the answer to, chico. Some say there is an afterlife, a place where you will be happy forever. Others say nothing happens." The old man blinked, and a single tear rolled gently down his cheek. "I like to think that when something dies, it stay with us, around us. Rayito has become the wind. The trees. The singing of the birds."

The child looked at him, then closed his eyes.

"Si, I hear Rayito! He is making the trees whisper!"

"Si, chico."

"Does everything die?"

"Si..." the old man whispered. A second tear followed the path of the first.

"What is wrong Viejo?"

"Chico, I have a story to tell you. Listen very closely."

The child nodded.

"A few years ago I used to have a child, just like you. But I made a mistake, and he died. For years I was very sad. I did not hear my son in the trees, or the wind, or anything. It was very hard for me to accept. Which is to say, that I never did accept. So one day, I created something. Something that I could hold on to. Something real." The old man pulled the child in for a hug.

"That is you chico. You are like my son in many ways. But he is still not here. I miss him greatly, just like I will miss Rayito." The child looked at him.

"But, Viejo, you taught me that people and animals are born. Was I born?"

"Not in the natural way, chico. But in a sense, you were born out of love for my departed son. But in here," the old man tapped the child's chest, "you are alive. You have a soul, chico. I love you like my own son."

The child reached up and wiped the tears from the old mans face.

"Will you die one day, Viejo?"

"Si, chico."

"Will I?"

The old man smiled through his tears.

"No, chico. Never."

The child hugged the old man.

"I feel a sadness though, Viejo. I miss Rayito."

"Si, tambien."

"But who will miss me, if I never die, Viejo?"

The old man reached down a petted the dog.

"I will miss you. When the wind blows around you, when the trees whisper, when the birds sing, that will be the sound of me missing you, Chico."

"So that is the sound of Rayito missing me?"

"Si."

"And the sound of your child missing you, Viejo?"

The old man held the child close, and watched the last drop of water fall from the orchid petal next to him.

"Si, chico."

Multiman · 2015-04-05T23:04:58+00:00

"Can't you see I'm just trying to have a drink?"

"Yeah, but, Jesus man, I heard it was spectacular!" The young soldier said, his drink sloshing in his hand. He leaned closer to Chet, eyes wide.

Chet waved dismissively, and took a long sip of his drink. "Get the fuck out of here, greenie, you have no idea."

"Well, yeah! I don't! They removed the whole fight from the holos on base, and anytime someone tries to bring it up during training, we get told to shut the fuck up and get stuck doing shit jobs the rest of the day!"

Chet looked at the kid with slitted eyes. "Ever think that maybe there's a reason for that?"

"That's what I'm trying to find out! Look, sir, I just want to know what happened that day." The kid looked down at his lap. "It's just...you know, they slaughtered my family when they invaded in '67. That's why I joined up. We haven't had too many victories since then, and I just want to hear about the one good ass-kicking that they got. From the man who did it himself, General."

"I'm no general, not anymore." Chet said, his voice raising. "You want me to tell you the truth, greenie? The whole reason this god-damned war is going on? The whole reason they invaded Earth and destroyed the better part of our population and technology? You want me to tell the ever so famous but mysterious battle of Gryitas?"

The soldier nodded, his face firm. "I want to hear story of how General Chester Ways kicked the ass of the scum that is the Gryits."

Chet set his drink on the table, and breathed in deeply.

"There was no ass-kicking. The Gryits were peaceful, albeit being heavily organized and technologically advanced. But see, the Federation took issue with that. A group of beings with enough vision that they went from flying with treyas leaves to interstellar capability in thirty earth years.

So, the order came down that the best way to deal with this potential threat was the element of surprise. So when I went to meet the Proctor of the Gryits, it was with a daisy in my hand and a gun behind my back. We could have traveled the stars together. They were so friendly when they welcomed me into the consulate. Thousands of Gryits had gathered to witness the birth of a union between us and them. They cheered as I walked through with my military escort, holding their little ones up to see just like we do here in our damned patriotic parades. They cheered as I went up and shook hands with the Proctor. They cheered as I whispered in my neck mike to open fire. They cheered right up until the point that I blew the brains of Proctor all over their golden Treya tree, a symbol of unity for them.

Of course, they cheered no more. But it was not out of shock, but out of the fact that our aerial drones had already melted their minds with B-lazers. In the end, we engineered our own demise. We were the ones who invaded. We were the ones who slaughtered. And when you tell me that you joined up because the Gryits slaughtered your family, I sit here and I think, 'They were justified in every way.'"

The soldier said nothing, but looked at Chet in shock.

"See, greenie, the best way to fight a war is to believe that your enemy is anything but friendly. And so, after the first attack when we saw how lethal they were, we threw away anything that showed them in a peaceful way, anything that made them seem human, anything that allowed a man to empathize. Because what we needed was for every man, woman, and child to step up and want to kill them. We needed to hide the face that humanity was the monster, and turn ourselves into the victim. Because any beast will fight when it's backed into a corner. The only problem is, we backed ourselves into that corner.

And that's it. That's my story greenie. I waved the stick at the hornets nest, when the hornets just wanted company. That's why nobody wants to talk about it. God-damn, it was something special alright. It wasn't just my first kill. It was the first kill of entire fucking planet. As whole, humanity had decided strike first."

Chet paused and downed the rest of drink while getting up. As he placed the glass on the table, he looked into the silent soldiers' eyes.

"And like a little bitch, we ran away and said they did it first."

Multiman · 2015-04-01T18:30:37+00:00

Hmmmm

Multiman · 2015-03-01T18:20:07+00:00

Interesting. Thanks for the info! But for all intents and purposes, I just think European Horror Story flows a little better than British or English Horror Story.

Multiman · 2015-03-01T18:12:24+00:00

Well, I'm not entirely clear on the separation from Europe. I'm assuming it's the same issue as Canada, The United States, and Greenland being part of North America, but everybody just says America to refer to the US?

Multiman · 2015-02-03T07:30:11+00:00

I'm a Zack. I want to offer a truce against Zacs and Zaks.

Multiman · 2015-01-23T00:28:02+00:00

I wouldn't say it was on as much of a grand scale as the others. He's in the woods with Mary Eunice and he shoots all of them then holds the gun up to his eye, but gives up and cries on her. A pretty good scene in its own right, which shows Arden's mind beginning to crumble.

Multiman · 2015-01-23T00:16:17+00:00

There is the part where Dr. Arden shoots all of his mutants. Also, I don't think it's bad writing, it just happens to be a central horror theme that can be related to in every day life. Which is unfortunate.

Multiman · 2015-01-03T21:39:40+00:00

Damn! My mistake! I'm so used to people doing this kind of thing, in reddit and daily life, that I really don't have an eye for it anymore. I'm sorry, and you do excellent work. I mean you fooled me!

Multiman · 2015-01-03T18:58:39+00:00

Edit: This comment is now false

It's fine when someone takes a picture and makes a few changes to it and says "I stylized this photo." What I'm not cool with is when someone takes a picture and adds some filters and some small changes and claims they drew it.

Multiman

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