Seventh Session (22/5/2013)

Today we were asked to write a short story for an hour based in a tenement building. Something that could perhaps be put alongside everyone's stories in one great big anthology.
You can read mine below.  


The last few steps on the third floor creak as a man in his forties turns the corner and looks down the mundane corridor inside the tenement building. He notices the police officer at the furthest door and approaches him, a slight limp as he strides past the other doors. He can hear frantic muttering behind them. People are scared, confused, the man understands these things. 
"Sir" the portly police officer says to the man as he finally reaches him.
"Morning Dave. Anything new happened?" the mans asks peering into the dark room behind the police officer. 
"Their about to take the body, apart from that just the tenants asking questions"
"Did you tell them anything?"
"No sir. Tho I can't vouch for Alex, you know how his mouth runs"
"Quite... is he here yet?"
"Not yet... Ah! The body sir."
Two police officers with a stretcher can be seen turning the corner, a large male and small female who stop when they see the man in his forties. 
"Sir" the two say in unison.
"Tom, Clara, May I?" the man asks as he lifts up the white sheet covering the corpse. 
The body is one of a man in his twenties. Short messy brown hair only just covers his hazel eyes. Looking at his face the man can't help but sigh.
"Damn waste of a good kid."
"You knew him sir?" the big man known as Tom asks to which the man nods.
"Kid used to deliver my damn newspapers"
"Sorry sir, for your loss that is" the small girl known as Clara says sympathetically.
"Don't be, that was a good eight years ago... Now go on you two, I want to check out the crime scene"
"Yes sir!" the pair say in unison again as they push the stretcher away. 
"All yours sir..." Dave the guard says as he lets the man pass. "Oh sir, you have some jam on your tie"
Hearing this the man in his forties looks down at his red tie, indeed it does have some purple jam on it. 
"Ah crap, and I just washed this tie as well"
"Its ok sir. We all do it from time to time" Dave says reassuringly as the man limps pasts him and towards the mirror in the flat's hallway.
Positioning himself in front of it he sucks the jam off his tie as he takes his black suit jacket and puts it onto his shoulder. He peers at the stranger in front of him. Deep, sleep deprived green eyes, unshaven five o'clock shadow, unwashed and unkempt black hair. Even the man can tell he looks like a wreck as he straightens his grey shirt and steps under the police line and into the hot living room crime scene.
A single chair with signs of wear and tear sits in the centre of the room in front of a large cinema sized screen TV. The man can only look in awe, slightly surprised that the kid could afford such a thing whereas he only owns a ten inch. 
An assortment of models from shows he has never seen litter the shelves alongside posters of calendar girls oddly angled on the walls.
"Hellooo Miss February!" a familiar voice says behind the man.
"Hello Alex" the man replies as he turns to face the new arrival.
The young man in his twenties is also wearing a black suit which covers his white shirt and green tie. His messy brown hair and blue eyes gleam with excitement as he inspects the room.
"So... how you doing Don?"Alex asks with a hint of mischief in his voice.
"That's sir to you" Don replies with a serious face.
"Whatever... by the way, you have some jam on you"
"Still? Damn it..."
"Relax, you don't need to apologise to your partner."
"Partner or not, I need to still set an example for the team" Don mutters as he inspects the chair. No blood or signs of a fight can be seen on it. "So... how did the paperboy die?"
"No clue! A neighbor hadn't heard from him in three days. When they went to check on him he was found dead. No stabs, bullet wounds or bludgeons... Nothing exciting at all."   
 
Robin Foale, 22/5/2013


Overall the group did really enjoy this story when I read it aloud as they felt I was very descriptive and the characters talked both naturally and realistically, had clear personalities and they could tell that Don and Alex had a good partnership building between the two of them.
However, they did have some suggestions which I wrote below.

• Felt I could have left out some of the minor characters names. Thinking back on this however I have to disagree as I feel it further shows the main protagonist cares about his team and would therefore refer to everyone no matter what role by name. 
• I should have maybe put on some voices as I did in a previous session when I read my story aloud. Due to the above writing style it was hard at times to tell the characters apart since I spoke with my regular voice throughout. I can understand their point and will therefore take that into consideration when I read aloud another conversation heavy story. 
• Could have perhaps used less detail on the other characters as they were only in the background as it were. Even though I defended the opinion of the names I feel that perhaps I should have just left them all as police officers. That way I still include their names but don't waste time describing them, this is something I will take into consideration for next time. 
• Put less emphasis on colours as too many confuse the reader's thoughts on the character's appearance as they start to blend in their heads.

We then went onto reading extracts from two stories, 'Room' by Emma Donoghue and 'The Yellow Wallpaper' by Charlotte Perkins Gilman.

• I didn't like 'Room' as it was too uncomfortable for me to personally read and therefore admittedly I only read the first couple of pages. However, the way it was written was interesting as it was written as if it was spoken by a five year old and how he refereed to inanimate objects as real things e.g. "Bring chair over" not "Bring THE chair over". Thus being an original piece of writing for me to read. 
• 'The Yellow Wallpaper' on the other hand I found a lot better as I didn't find it uncomfortable to read and therefore read the whole thing. As in the previous story I felt this one was written in an interesting manner since it was based on the thoughts of a confined pregnant women who was slowly going insane by the wallpaper itself. Therefore she would always mention her tendency to cry and get angry a lot of the time which made what she was going through believable. The way she also wrote that others were coming and that she had to hide her writing added realism to the story as well. Her confinement and pregnancy also adds to her overall madness which is built up at a steady pace throughout the story which I found effective. Time also clearly goes by without the writer telling the reader directly which I find to be a clever way of showing all the previously mentioned things. My only complaint is with its style of writing and some of the words used as I wasn't able to understand them all. Thus the flow of the story was sadly often broken for me.

Further dialogue writing (18/5/2013)

Deciding to practice more of my writing skills outside of sessions, I wrote another short piece based on a dialogue.
Making sure to combine argument dialogue and the sort of every day talk one would see in a Quentin Tarantino movie you can read my writing below.   


Inside an overturned truck two men in heavy suits are sitting eating a mix of stale, out of date sandwiches when after five minutes of silence the taller and heavier one with 'Josh' written on his suit asks his companion who is thinner and shorter with the name 'Mac' on him...
"Remember Wimpy burger?" 
His companion halfway through what barely counts as a sandwich looks up. 
"Wimpy burger?"
"Yea Wimpy burger! The fast food joint that had a beefeater as its mascot named... oh what's its face... Mr Wimpy!"
"Such an original name..." Mac mutters before looking at his sandwich, the green contents not the most pleasing to look at, whatever it may be. "A beefeater you say? You mean like a fat guy who loves to eat a lot of beef?" 
"Close. He was this fat guy in a beefeater outfit." Josh says informatively before noticing the angle of his companion's head, cleary showing he doesn't understand. "It was the name for the guard at Big Ben you uncultured..."
"Big Ben?" Mac asks confused which earns him a stern look from Josh, even behind that mask he can tell he is giving him the evils.
"Kidding! Kidding! Of course I know good old broken Ben. Why this talk of a fat guy tho?"
"Well the place itself wasn't anything special. In fact, it sucked. You could hardly find a joint around after the 90's. However, they used to do these great cheap breakfasts. They still tasted rubbish mind you, but it was a good start to the day. Pig bacon... real eggs... actual toasted fresh bread..." 
"Stop! Stop it there Josh! You're making my mouth water. Man I can't belive how good you are at psychological torture!" Mac chuckles before looking at the last bite in his hand inquisitively. "Still, I can't believe those rare foods used to be sold together daily. I can hardly even remember what those things look like. But the taste... my god. It's something you'll never forget that first taste of bacon. The saltiness, the flavour... Heck! I think I can even remember the smell now."
"Ok, now YOU stop there! I knew I shouldn't of brought it up!"
"And yet you did..."
"And yet I did! Come on... lets get this patrol finished ok?" Josh says as he heaves the backpack with a clatter back on his back.
"Fine... lead on Mr Wimpy!" 
Josh turns and looks down on Mac, his hand only just now on the door leading out.
"Screw you Mac."
"Love you too Josh." Mac says sarcastically before raising the rifle by his side to his waist.

The two have to shield their eyes even with their helmets on against the bright rays of the sun which hit them. It takes a few seconds to readjust, but they soon see the usual sight. Burnt car wreakage lays everywere on the uneven and slanted bits of road that poke out at various angles. Strange green clouds of smoke steam out of certain crevasses. Half a truck hangs off a broken bridge a hundred feet away and the tail end of a plane sticks out of the swamp that used to be a river. But it's the buildings that always get the two's attention. All of which lay in rubble, bent in an assortment of proportions and black as coal. As the two proceed on their patrol each foot step causes dust to float into the air, so much so that the two constantly have to stop to wipe their visors. After a good ten minutes as they walk across the remains of a motorway Josh decides to break the silence as he pulls up Mac onto a raised area of tarmac. 
"Hey Mac?" Josh groans as he pulls up his companion onto the surface.  
"Yes Josh?" Mac pants before looking up at him, trying to get his breath back.
"How do we get into these situations?"
"What do you mean?" Mac says confused as he gets up and proceeds to take point, lifting up his rifle and checking the corner of a nearby broken ambulance.
"I mean... never mind. Just forget I said anything." Josh sighs as he walks past the gun wielder, his back pack clattering with goods as he kicks a bent can ahead of him.  
 Mac sighs and shakes his head.
"Oh come on! You don't really expect me to end it there do you?"
Josh stops and without looking at him stares at the destroyed block of apartments in front of him.
"Well... how come whenever you do something bad I'm always dragged into patrol duty as well?"
"Huh? No you're not!"
"Yes I am."
"No you're not!"
"Yes I am!" Josh says turning around now facing Mac who had crept up on him without him realising it.
Josh hides the fact that he was startled with a forced cough.
"Remember when you started that uprising in the mess hall?"
"Uprising!? That was nothing more than a fun, food fight!"
"You were throwing bowls of boiling soup!"
"Ok... I admit that was taking things a biiiiit too far..."
"Or how about that time when you used the communication room inappropriately?"    
"Inappropriately!? I merely decided to play a little good ol rock and roll in order to raise everyone's morale!"
"You call heavy metal at full blast a 'little'!? You practically deafened everyone on level 5."
"I confused the low volume for the high volume, I hold my hands up to that!" Mac justifies by actully raising his arms before continuing. "Besides, you were caught red handed keeping the exit open so I don't know why you're blaming me."
"That's because I was trying to get you to leave, remember!?"
"Huh... oh yea! Good times!" Mac chuckles before hopping down onto another section of road leading to the destroyed flats in front of them.
"Good times!? Honestly Mac I don't know why I even bother sometimes."
"Because without me your life would be boring."
"And without me you would be dead!" Josh says annoyed before carefully lowering himself down onto a more even surface, trying to keep the goods in his bag protected.
"If you say so..." Mac mumbles as he approaches an ledge and looks out towards the overgrown river.
"I do say so!" Josh yells angrily as he walks up to him from behind. "Honestly! Some times I wish the ground would just swallow you whole!"
And as if cuing some sick joke the unstable surface underneath Mac gives way. As he realises this he tries to turn around only for his flailing arms to cause him to lean forward. Josh reaches for him only for Mac to fall through the floor under him and slide down the edge of a cliff. He gets halfway down before losing his balance and rolling onto his side which causes him to land flat in the dirt below, causing a great dust cloud to form from both him landing and his descent. Josh watches as he waits for Mac to get up. Only he doesn't. 
"Mac? MAC!"  Josh yells frantically as he proceeds to take a rope out of his back pack and tie it to the steadiest support he can. After finding such a thing he slowly absales down, dust rising from every footstep. Still silence from his comrade.  
When Josh finally reaches the bottom he quickly rushes to Mac and turns him over. 
"Are you ok Mac? Speak to me! Say something!" Josh says in a panic.
For a moment there is only silence, then finally after what seems like an eternity for Josh Mac begins to cough. 
"Woah. Since when did you have power over the Earth?"
Relieved Josh give Mac a shove. 
"Geez Mac. Now is not the time to be laughing. You're lucky to have survived that fall. Heck! If your suit had broken then it would have been more merciful if you had died than breathe in the gasses down here."
"You know, you really have to work on your bed side manners Josh..." Mac stops when something in the distance gets his attention. "Wait... whats that?" Mac flashes a light in the direction of the thing which is overshadowed by the bridge.
Getting up Mac proceeds forward, limping slightly from bumps and bruises on his side. 
"Whoa be careful! You survived death once today. Don't tempt him a second time." Josh calls out from afar as Mac gets halfway towards the thing of interest. 
"Relax! I'm just going to have a look that's all." Mac calls as he reaches what appears to be the tip of some sort of round storage device, which is sticking out of the ground.
"Mac. Mac!" Josh hisses from afar.
Ignoring him Mac wipes away the dust on the submerged device and gazes at his find. Flashing his light on it reveals a name which fills his eyes with excitement. 
"Josh... you're not going to believe what I've found!"
"What? Some semblance of wanting to stay alive?"
"Close... At least something we can barter with that will help us live in comfort for the rest of our lives!"
"What the hell are you talking about?"
Smiling behind his helmet Mac puts a foot on top of the thing. 
"I'm talking about a surviving geno pod! Perhaps with enough power to bring life back to our area, if not the whole country!" Mac announces excitedly to a stunned Josh.
"You can't be serious!" Josh cries out unable to tell whether he is lying or not before running up to the thing to inspect it for hismelf. 
Sure enough the once white pod glistens under Mac's flashlight. Writien on the side in green letters is 'Geno Pod 2.1-Aplha'. 
Josh stares in awe, unable to believe that they have found a beacon of hope in this otherwise hell hole. He feels a hand press down on his shoulder and hears the familiar sound of Mac chuckling.   
"Josh... we're going to be eating bacon for the rest of our happy lives!" 

Robin Foale, 18/5/2013

Sixth Session (15/5/2013)

Today we focused on writing conversations which was something I personally felt confident with as I enjoy writing character interactions the most probably due to my drama background and script writing experience.

To start with we got into groups and discussed how arguments are started and what leads to them in order to get a better idea about realistic writing.
My group came up with the following argument triggers.

• Chores e.g. being told to clean your room even when you think its fine.
• Difference in opinion e.g. the first movie was better because... 
• An answer to almost anything as people can debate it. 
• Even the name for something can start an argument e.g. those who have never played 'The Legend of Zelda' may believe the protagonist's name is Zelda as they are on the cover usually. When in fact the hero's name is Link and the other name belongs to the series princess whom he has to save. 

Afterwards we then talked about how even villains and antiheroes such as Dexter and Hannibal Lecter have human sides to them as they can be seen getting into everyday conversations before killing someone. From talking about these two we were able to think further about the type of characters we wanted in our stories and what we would want them to talk about.   

Finally we were asked to write some conflict dialogue and some persuasive dialogue which you can read below.

Conflict dialogue:
Below is part of the story I originally planned to write during this module and could have continued it for my final piece. However, I choose not to when the story I did pick grabbed me from start to finish. 
One thing I really liked about the following piece however is that fact that it closely resembles 'Alice in Wonderland' even though that was never the intention when I began. It only struck me after I had chosen randomly the name of my main character. 


Sitting in a round and empty white room the long red haired girl looks around her new surroundings. With only a small black bench and matching non transparent window that stretches across half the room's wall to vary the environment the girl sits in silence. Waiting, wondering how she got into this situation. Looking down her white medical gown she spots for the first time a white name tag around her right hand wrist.
"Alice?" she reads curiously. "Is that my name?"
She tries to remember but as she does a section of the wall lifts up, revealing a blue humanoid droid.
"Ah! Have you calmed down now?" it says in an intellectual male voice, approaching her with a tray in its hands.
"Calmed down?" She replies confused as the droid places the tray on the bench next to her. On it a number of components for a device the girl can't recognise. 
"Why yes. You did get awfully mad after all, thus for your own safety we put you in here." the droid says as it starts to assemble the device. 
"Tell me... how do you feel?" it asks curiously.
"Not good. I feel like I'm going to throw up any minute. Can I get some fresh air?" the girl says starting to feel light headed.
"You mean to say you can't breathe in here?"
"Of course I..."    
"Or did you mean the air in here isn't fresh? For if that were the case you are most mistaken. This room is filtered with the oxygen you need..." 
"I just want a change of scenery! Some grass... trees..."
"Well if that was all. We can provide that no problem." 
As the droid says this the white floor projects a flat grass surface as the non-transparent window projects a beautiful scene of trees in a meadow, a stream coursing through the centre of it.
"How's that?" it says optimistically as it completes half of the hand held device. 
"It's all fake..." the red head whispers looking down.
"What's that...?"
"I said it's all fake!" she yells at the droid in frustration. "This isn't..."
"Oh but on the contrary. All these projections are from ever green meadow in..." 
"A meadow? Nearby? That's perfect! Let's go there then."
"My dear Alice... why would you want to leave? It's safe here. More importantly, you're safe" it says with only one quarter of the device left to build.   
The red head remains silent, staring at the droid before looking back at the name tag.
"Alice? Is that my name?" 
"Perhaps..."
"What do you mean by 'perhaps'?" she says raising her voice before she can stop herself, she already knows the sort of thing its going to say.
"Well it either means that is your name... or it isn't. Honestly, it's not rocket science you kn..." 
"Don't you know my name then?" 
Hearing this the droid stops, halfway through screwing on the last rectangular piece to the device. It stands still, not making any other move or saying anything.
"Well? Do you or don't you?" she says raising her voice again, slowly rising off the bench. She is about to ask again when the droid responds in more of a hurry.
"You must be thirsty! Please, help yourself to some water" it says as a panel in the wall reveals itself.
Inside the panel a cup is slowly filling with clear glistening water which is coming out of a hole above it. Tired and feeling worse the girl just sighs.
"I suppose it's something..." she says bitterly as she gets up and approaches the cup.
Picking it up with her right hand she is about to put it to her lips when her eyes gaze once again at the name tag dangling on the lifted hand. 
"Where am I?" she asks looking around, only now remembering that she has never been in or seen this room before.

Robin Foale, 15/5/2013  


Persuasive dialogue:
Another story that I considered started with the following conversation which I realised would fit perfectly a persuasive argument.



The rain is heavy and lashes hard onto the tall figure that hurries out of the moonlit woods and towards the ferry in the distance. He breathes heavily in the cold air as his great sword, back pack and soaked clothing weigh him down further into the thickening mud. His cloak surrounds his important heavy burden which he holds tight with both of his large hands underneath his cloak. He stumbles as his feet find the stone path at last and he is able to make the rest of the journey with a much faster pace.
"Almost there..." he says with a tense low voice as he reaches the ferry. No one is in sight. "Damn it." he mutters as he stands at the floating transport. 
Turning away from it he approaches the small stone house next to it. He proceeds to bang on the door with a heavy fist. "Ferry man! Ferry man! I am in need of your services tonight!" he cries out over the increasing storm. 
He continues to slam his fist against the door with all his might for a good minute before he finally hears an unlocking and a large fat man with a long shaggy beard appears in the entrance way.
"Who goes there at this hour? Can't you see there are no more crossings today?" he grumbles as he wipes his beer stenched mouth." 
"Please! It's an emergency! I need to cross tonight!" the soaked man says in desperation.   
"I told you already, no more services ton..." the bearded man says trying to close the door, however the drenched man puts one of his large feet in the way of the door, stopping it from shutting as he leans in closer.  
"If it's a matter of price I can pay you handsomely!" the tall man tries to negotiate. 
It is then that the wind picks up and he can hear far in the distance the sound of dogs howling. This makes the man sweat and his heart race as his pleading eyes stare at the fat man.
"It's not a matter of price..." 
"Then my sword then! Finest steel in all the land!" the man says turning to reveal the finely crafted great sword on his back. 
"Sorry, but this weather would only make the travel life threatening. And I don't intend to risk my life or a customers." 
The sound of the dogs pick up closely followed by the yelling of men.
"If you don't let me cross then a customer will die!" the man standing in the rain says assertively as he opens his cloak and reveals his burden. 
Wrapped in a thick blanket lies a new born baby with dark hair and a small birth mark in the shape of a ram's head just below its neck. The birth mark that all members of the royal family are born with!

Robin Foale, 15/5/2013  


Personal Goal:
Try and watch a Quentin Tarantino movie or two as we spoke about them today and they are meant to contain great characterisation as at times the characters talk about everyday things, thus becoming more human and relatable to the audience.

Fifth Session (8/5/2013)

For this session we looked at cut-up techniques which are used in order to create original things. This was something that the famous singer David Bowie did during his career for his song writing.

First we looked at the following three songs which related to one another as they were all about both good and bad relationships.

• Bad Romance - Lada Gaga.
• Radio Gaga - Queen.
• On the Radio - Donna Summer. 

We were also meant to sing them aloud which I would have been more than fine with, however due to bad internet connection the songs took forever to load and therefore this part of the session didn't take place.

We were then told to take these three songs and cut out the printed lyrics given to us in order to make up a new piece of creative writing in any form we wanted.

I decided to use repetition to reinforce the effectiveness of my chosen story, therefore making it a poem. This ended up being a lot of fun to create since I haven't written a poem in years and have recently been getting back into them with the works of Edger Alan Poe.
You can read my poem below.

War of  the Worlds - Invaded by Mars:

It must have fallen out of a hole in time. 

The ugly, the sick psycho. 

I heard it on my radio. 

You couldn't find the words to say yourself. 

I was surprised, shocked.

You could fly. 

I heard it on my radio. 

The changes through the years in your time. 

How you made 'em cry.

How the touch of your hand caused horror. 

I never told a soul.

I heard it on my radio. 

Someone found a letter you wrote me.

And they told the world just how you felt. 

You had the power, you had the disease. 

You had everything.

I heard it on my radio.

Robin Foale, 9/5/2013

Having completed the above and been given free time, I decided to write a short story that I had in my head as a result of the heavy rain that we had that day. I decided to write it as something someone would recognise as a scene for a video game and wanted it to sound as cool and exciting as possible.  

This is the result.

I know that the train will be passing through soon. I ready myself, making sure my rope is fully tightened around me and the nearby cliff for support. A strong wind billows through my cloak as the blizzard starts to get worse. Most people would say my tactics are outdated, mad. They would be right. I can see the lights of the train barely appearing out of the tunnel in the distance. 

"Showtime..." I say with my deep voice before covering my scarred face with the masquerade mask I made for this operation alone. 
As the train finally comes closer I take the plunge. I'm a good twenty feet above the long transport. I've timed the jump and distance perfectly, as I always do. I swing on the rope and pass a few windows. As I thought, plasma droids fill every carriage, holding hostage the mutants Alpha City would rather exile to the Wastes for just being born different. Well, not today.  
As I near the central carriage I pull out the gas powered crossbow from my cloak and ready it at the plasma droids which have only just noticed me.
"Eat this..." I say as the rapid cannon fires its incendiary arrows through the bullet proof windows and into the monitors of the non-prepared droids. The windows may be bullet proof, and the droids immune to lasers, but neither of the two have a chance against my ammo. Able to pierce through objects with ease and then turn to dust after impact to avoid tracing, incendiary arrows make for the perfect ammo for someone in my trade. 
Having broken the window I detach from my rope and go flying into one of the barely standing droids due to the inertia and force behind my swing. Bouncing off it and rolling onto the cold metal floor I can feel the train reverberating underneath me. I scan the room with my raised weapon. The five droids stationed in here have all been taken care off. Having checked that the room has been cleared, I go towards the computer in the corner, its screen already covered by the snow blowing in from the increasing wind outside. I access it and quickly find my target, my love, my wife... 

Robin Foale, 9/5/2013

Our lecturer also recommended that we check out the website 'Language is a Virus' as it is a useful one that we can use in order to further study cut-up techniques.  

Place-watch stories (3/5/2013)

Asked to 'place-watch' in two different locations and write for twenty minutes without giving away the location, I decided to write the following two pieces afterwards I explain the process of making them. 


First 'place-watch': 

Sitting in the far corner away from the others in the long corridor as I always do I watch. I like sitting in the corner. It makes me invisible to those I am behind and conceals me in the shadows. Here I can play any game, read any book I desire and not get persecuted for my taste. Although the seat is comfy enough, I sit with my back pressed against the corner of the wall, observing the 'flock' as I like to call them. Two such younger members sit opposite me. They are a couple, a blond that clings to her 'muscle' as I call him. He prefers however to listen to the device in his ears as his blond baas words of affection. Perhaps the two have run out of things to bleet to one another, or perhaps this is just what the two do after a long day. I don't know and I don't think about it for long as the open vent above my head causes the loud wind to distract me. I lean towards the window, seeing only pitch darkness. Disappointed I turn away and reminisce about the past. I can hear and feel the engine working underneath me, jogging my notebook as I sway from side to side. Tired I yawn and look out of the window again, still pitch black, yet a face has now come into view. Surprising me at first I quickly realise that it is the old female with short white hair sitting in front of me. Her face turns away from the window and I have to reposition myself to see her now holding the hand of what seems to be her old companion. A strong alpha male with a white moustache only I could wish for. He reads his travel guide in silence holding the hand of his mate. I am about to mistake this for some lost love like the other members of the flock when I suddenly see his face smile. It is a smile that peels away his wrinkles and gives him new life, removing the mistakenly stubborn exterior and replacing it with that of the happiest man alive. As his smile fills me with hope, I hear laughter at my side and notice that the younger members are now engaging in conversation with one another, both wielding smiles just as loving and hopeful as the alpha male's. Curious I look along the corridor and notice that the rest of the flock is now smiling. Is this some sort of power from the alpha male or just pure coincidence? I do not know. But everyone indeed seems to be smiling, whether that be the tired ticket collector, the miserable looking lady or the stressed girl on the phone, all now have a semblance of a smile on their lips. Even I start to feel my cheekbones shifting.
"Perhaps the flock isn't so bad after all." I think to myself as I begin to smile, sitting back and relaxing as I bob up and down on my long journey in the moving corridor back home.  

Robin Foale, 3/5/2013


The above took place on a train and the character was loosely based on myself as I like sitting in privacy on these occasions. However, the darker moments of the person were inspired by the character Rorschach from the graphic novel 'Watchmen' who is pessimistic about humanity. Thus I decided to refer to the passengers as the 'flock' since that sounded like something he would say. Plus this was a good means of tricking my audience and conveying that sheep tend to copy one another as passengers on a train are doing similar things, however they in reality are all individuals.   


Second 'place-watch': 

It's a sunny day, not a cloud in the sky. The townsfolk hurry about their business going to wherever they need to be. Although many in fact sit in the sun on chairs, others on the freshly cut grass. Two characters sit cross legged in front of a stone guardian. One is thin and short, wearing a white tuxedo despite the heat. The other is a huge ape of a man in shorts and a combat vest. The two have been sitting there on the hard pebbly ground for nearly a hour, silent, ignoring the chattering of passerby's and children playing around them. 

Finally, the ape of a man can't stand the waiting and turns to his companion. 
"Well?" he says in his deep booming voice.
"Well what?" the man in the tuxedo says in a calm and collected voice. Not taken his gaze away from the stone guardian.
"Are we done yet? I can't feel my legs anymore and I'm starting to get thirsty." 
"Well, if you want to leave be my guest. No one is stopping you."
"You know bloody well that I can't do that. Especially since we're so close to the boss's establishment." The ape of a man says glancing up at the grand Gothic building behind the stone guardian with it's gigantic windows which, although dark glisten in the sunlight and match perfectly with the reddish brown stone walls. 
A group of children run past the two men, it seems they are chasing a flock of pigeons. Smiling the ape of a man points at them.
"HA! Remember when we used to do that?" he chuckles revealing a wide smile. 
"If I recall correctly, it was you who did it. Not me." the tuxedo man replies, still intently starring at the stone guardian. 
"Besides, I left such childish things behind years ago." he continues with a voice full of pride. 
The ape of a man wipes his nose and yawns again, annoyed with his partner.
"Yea yea... whatever. You used to be a kid like that once. There is no denying that at least. Right?" 
"Perhaps..." the man in the tuxedo says lightly before suddenly stopping.

The children are now climbing over the stone guardian. Shocked by this the tuxedo man is about to speak up but stops, biting his lip in frustration. 
"Hey! Don't you little rug rats have any respect!? That's the stone guardian for crying out loud!" the ape of a man yells in defiance to which the children don't respond. 
The ape of man then proceeds to get up only to be stopped by his companion. 
"Let it go... they can't hear you." he says with a hint of sadness in his voice. His partner still standing sighs in annoyance.    
"I know, but it still pisses me off." He says stamping on the ground. 
Smiling the man in the tuxedo gets up and puts a hand on the huge man's shoulders. 
"Come on you big lummocks. Let's get that drink."
"I thought you weren't done?"
"I don't think I will ever be done apologising. Now come on. You know we can't stray from one another." The tuxedo man finishes saying before turning to leave.
"Hey?" The ape of a man calls to him as starts to walk away.
"Yes?" The tuxedo man responds, turning on the spot to face his partner.
"Do you think they will... the mortals I mean. Ever remember him?" The ape of a man says to which the tuxedo man actually doesn't have a response for once. Instead he pauses and after a minute responds.
"Perhaps. Time will only tell my tall friend. Time will only tell..."
And with that the two walk away into the sunlight, leaving the statue of the bearded man to sit in his seat of stone, for ever more.  

Robin Foale, 3/5/2013


The above took place in the grounds surrounding Exeter Cathedral and the stone guardian I refereed to was the statue of Richard Hooker. Unlike my last piece, I wanted to experiment with character conversations instead of just one singular character monolog. Therefore I included two of them in the above scene. The characters were not based on anyone I knew, however I felt they made for good polar opposites, thus not characters you would expect to see with one another unless put into a situation as I did. The situation being one of supernatural occurrence as I wanted the pair to be kind of like angels, but not really angels at the same time, which is why they can't be seen.       

Fourth Session (1/5/2013)

Today we focused on first person writing e.g. writing the story through the eyes of the character and how to write the environment around them effectively.

After being told that the narrative had to start with us pulling up in a car outside a building, we then had to describe what the car door sounds like when opened and what the character did following the descriptions our lecturer gave us. These included how it feels when they step onto the ground, what the outside of the building looks like compared to the inside plus describing what the character sees below after taking three steps forward.


I felt as if my writing and the story itself developed as I wrote it since I was only given descriptions to work from and couldn't think of a story in advance.
You can read the resulting piece below:

I can see the rain lashing against the windscreen as I pull the car up alongside my destination. Pausing for a moment I am left in the cramped car with only the sound of my heavy breathing to accompany me. The stench of fast food fills my nostrils as I turn the ignition off. I take one more deep breath before lifting the door open. It creaks and gets jammed, only halfway up. Giving it a shove I manage to wrench it fully open, the door now providing some cover from the pouring rain. I put one of my vintage 2000 Starcross converses onto the wet gravel and hear almost instantly the crunch of the ground and the squelch of the puddle I have stepped in. Sighing with annoyance I slam the door back down with a creak and approach the brightly lit building to my left. I find a path leading to the entrance which is partially covered by some hanging trees and decide to take that route. I get halfway to the door before noticing the name on the letterbox just outside the block of flats. 'Mr J Fox - Number 6' it reads. Breathing heavily I look up at the tall blue and white building. Its design looks more like something from the 21st century rather than the 22nd. Above the building it has an out of place holographic sign which reads 'Paradise Homes'. Seeing my cold breath float in the air I approach the old wooden door and press my thumb down on the wooden latch. Its hard, yet warm to the touch despite the cold weather. Pushing hard I enter the bright interior of the sterile white lobby. Despite its cleanliness, I feel sick and want to leave. However, I remember I have a task at hand and enter further. A large fire blazes in the middle of the room, casting shadowy figures on the fish tank ceiling I see above noting that nearly half a dozen fish reside in it, obviously a recent addition to the building along with the fire place. Feeling the damp coursing through my converses and trench coat I decide to take off the latter, placing it on a nearby couch and pull a cigarette from my jeans. Placing my watch next to the cigarette I light it with a small flame that extends from the side of the clock face. Probably the only 'modern' thing I own. I examine the room as I put the illegal substance to my red lips.
"If I'm going to do a big crime, I might as well start of with a small one" I hear myself saying aloud as I savour the long intake of Mars' purified tobacco. 
I look at the clock projected behind the service desk and notice it is already two in the morning, three hours behind schedule. I find myself smiling, no one is around to stop me smoking and it feels great. I take one final reviving drag before dropping the stub on the floor, not caring about the mess I make since these types could do with some instead of boring cleanliness. I look up and wave a hand at the round camera just above the stairway leading to the other floors, a confident yet sinister smile spreading on my face. 
"I'm coming for you Fox," I say looking straight at the camera as I pull out the 6 millimeter pistol tucked behind the back of my denims and proceed up the marble staircase at a sprint, leaving the trench coat behind, I no longer need it. 
My long black hair flows behind me as I am suddenly full of adrenaline, excitement, from running up the stairs, not knowing if its because I know what I am about to do or not. Whatever it is however, I haven't felt this free, so in control for years. 
I reach the final three steps leading to his floor and decide to enjoy taking each one. I look down and count. 
First step, the rain has done a real deal to my antique shoes. I hope I can save them.
Second step, still no dust. God I hate boring cleanliness. 
Third step, I am about to reminisce about the rain splashing against the window when I hear a loud crash and stop in my tracks. 
I pause and listen in the direction of the corridor next to me. Heart racing as I raise the pistol and slowly peer around. A potted plant lies broken by the last door, Mr Fox's door! 

Robin Foale, 1/5/2013


Overall people really liked my story and I got the following comments.

• Our lecturer noticed I was wearing converses today and therefore was intrigued that I used something I was actually wearing to help me understand how the character felt whilst wearing them, especially when covered in water.
• They liked the use of telling time and place without directly saying it. Also using words like antique to make the shoes seem older to the rest of the setting.
• Liked that I used the word 'modern' when referring to the watch/lighter which stuck out for certain people when I brought it up. 
• Was interested by my use of smoking and saying it was illegal. Was this in relation to our current anti smoking laws or something now more serious? 
• Liked how the car door opened upwards instead of the usual way since it was something small that the audience would latch onto and would make them think of either a Delorian or a futuristic car. 
• Managed to reveal effectively using subtle words more associated with the female gender such as 'red lips' to tell the audience the character was female. Thus my listeners liked this method.  

Myself I was interested when someone else in the group came up with an idea almost identical to mine since it was set in the future and also raining. Yet it was our two different writing styles that made them stand out from one another.

Next week we will be talking about our plans for our main project and how we wish to hand it in. Our lecturer mentioned briefly that she has had work handed in as graphic novels, manga's, written on train tickets, scratched onto a toaster and even given as a message in a bottle.Therefore I hope I will be able to come up with something just as creative or at least relative to my piece. However, she would also like a digital copy so she can save it.

Task for next week:
Go to a pubic space and write for twenty minutes in character about what I see and how it makes me feel. Try and leave it to the reader to guess where the character is and if possible do two different examples.