chocolatedragonwordmagic

[chocolatedragonwordmagic]

Help Please

It's been a looong time. Life keeps getting in the way.

Anyways, I like to write and 2 years ago I wrote a story called Chosen One from a writing prompt.

I posted it on here and then promptly forgot about it. Fortunately I also had it saved among all my other writing stuff and recently rediscovered it.

I was pleasantly surprised and shared it with my spawn (all young adults) and was then asked if I ripped the story from tumblr coz they were certain they'd seen it in a some kind of video about tumblr stuff...

So, I've proved to them that it is actually my creation and re-discovered tumblr.

Now I would love it if you could all help me find which video they saw it on coz, well, I'm curious.

It might have been one of PM Seymour's vids, but my spawn, well, they watch a lot of stuff from a lot of different people, so it might not have been...

And tho I am recovering from surgery and can't do much, I don't know that I have the mental capacity to trawl through that many hours of videos in the hopes of finding it...

So if anyone can help me find the location of this video that has a reading of Chosen One in it I would be extremely grateful.

Thanks so very much.

[chocolatedragonwordmagic]

LOVE

just a fuckin big bird

[chocolatedragonwordmagic]

Chosen One

From the prompt that I found somewhere on here - found it -  writing-prompts-re  -

Stereotypical 'Chosen One' story, but the Chosen One is a 46-year-old mother of three who ran out of fucks to give five years ago.

Alison leaned back in her old sofa chair, eyes closed, listening to the steady sound of rain on the tin roof. This time of night, when even her eldest had gone to bed, was when she was finally able to let out the breath she’d been holding since the day began.

She had an hour at best before her eyes would be closing of their own accord, so ignoring the washing on the couch and the dishes in the sink, Alison slipped off her shoes and padded through the old shagpile carpet to the kitchen. She tugged open the dark brown cupboard door above the water filter, and took out her favourite cup, the one with the unicorn on it. It was one her mother had given her many years ago.

From the outdated and outmoded fridge she grabbed the milk; from the alcove with a slatted wooden door, apparently a “walk-in pantry”, she gathered the cocoa and sugar, placing them on the orange tiled countertop. Then she turned on the solid electric hotplate of the small white stove in the corner of the galley style kitchen, before rummaging in the drawer for the small saucepan, studiously ignoring the peeling mint wallpaper on the wall beside her.

In happier times she’d worked with Richard on renovation plans for this house that they’d bought together. In the end, they never did any of them; they never had enough money and he was always too tired or too busy, and she it was all too hectic raising three kids under five while also trying to be the model wife.

In the end, it had been a relief when she came home to a note on the counter saying he wasn’t coming back; it had all been a terrible mistake, they should never have gotten married, never had kids…

Alison took a deep breath and let it out slowly. He’d been the one who’d wanted more when she’d just wanted casual; he’d been the one who’d been desperate to get married, desperate to have kids, and in the end he was the one who’d left, not her. She’d always known it had been a mistake; if she’d listened to her gut back then they would never have gotten married or had kids. Still, she looked at the photo blue-tacked to the wall of kids.

It was just a snap she’d taken on her phone, but it had turned out great. Marrying Richard may have been a mistake, but she didn’t regret the kids, not one bit. Life was definitely harder as a single mum, but now that they were older it was easier, especially with Jane and Sally both working part time. As long as there were no unexpected big bills in the next couple of years they’d be fine…

Alison sighed, pouring the milk into a saucepan with a practised hand and putting it on the hotplate before rummaging through her tote bag sized handbag, pushing aside junk mail, several sets of keys, a can of pepper spray, antihistamines, a chocolate bar, a lock-picking toolkit, a notice from school about silly sock day, a notepad, a can of mace and a couple of museli bars until she found her book at the bottom.

‘Man, why am I thinking about Richard? He’s been gone for ten years.’ Alison dropped the book on her chair and checked the milk. ‘Ten years today, in fact. Maybe that’s why?’ She tested the milk on the back of her hand. It burnt. ‘Good enough,’ she muttered, pouring the milk from the saucepan into her cup, stirring at the same time in an attempt to dissolve the cocoa and sugar. She took out a plate, grabbed a couple of cookies from the jar and put everything down on the table beside her chair.

Alison picked up the book and settled herself into the chair, tucking her legs up underneath her. She was more than halfway through it now; it had only taken half a year! Maybe she’d be finished by Christmas.

Her eyes snapped open and the book hit the floor with a thud. Her heart was thumping. ‘Crap! I must have dozed off! What woke me up?’ She looked around the room, everything seemed fine. She unfolded herself from the chair, stretching as she ghosted up the hallway on silent feet, checking on the kids.

There was a tap on the door. Alison froze, her skin crawling; always a sign of magic nearby. She looked at the clock on the wall. ‘Who on earth would be knocking at the door at midnight?’

There was another tap. Alison picked up the poker by the garish ornamental fireplace; it may be ornamental, but the poker wasn’t. She twirled it in her hand as she approached her front door, turning on the outside light before slipping off the chain and opening the door a crack, ready to use her poker if required.

‘I’m sorry to trouble you at such an inopportune time,’ said a cultured voice.

Alison just stared.

‘Would it be all right if I came inside?’

‘No,’ she said, adjusting her grip on the poker, ‘No, it would not be all right.’

‘But it’s raining. And I’m all wet.’

‘That sounds like a you problem.’

‘You are Alison Vandemeer, formerly Alison Smith?’

‘Maybe,’ she said, her curiosity getting the better of her; there was something familiar about the figure standing on her front doorstep. ‘You’ve got the wrong house if you’re looking for a costume party.’

‘I’m not in costume.’

‘Then why are you dressed like a wizard?’

‘That would be because I am one,’ he said, drawing himself up.

Alison laughed.

‘You don’t believe me?’

‘Sounds like someone’s been watching too many fantasy movies. Besides, if you were a wizard surely you’d be doing something about getting wet?’

‘You mean like this?’

He snapped his fingers and a glowing, transparent bubble surrounded him. Alison watched the rain bounce off. Her grip on the poker tightened. She recognised the feel of his magic even though the last time they’d met had been a lifetime ago.

‘Are you, or are you not, Alison Vandemeer?’

‘Who’s asking?’

‘Sir Rupert Wallamert, the Third, at your service,’ he said with a slight bow.

‘Why?’

He sighed.

‘Will you let me come in?’

‘No.’

‘What do I need to do to prove to you that my intentions are good?’

‘Leave,’ said Alison.

‘But…’

‘Whatever you’re selling, I ain’t buying.’

‘You know what I’m selling, Alison. Or have you actually forgotten?’

‘Oh, I’ve not forgotten, Rupert,’ she said, tightening her grip on the poker, imbuing it with power, ‘But I also have a very clear memory of you telling me that there’d been a mistake and I was not the one you were looking for.’

‘Ah, yes, well, you see,’ he cleared his throat, looked down at his feet and flicked imaginary dust off his fine silk robes. ‘Well, it seems that accounting made a rather unfortunate mistake back then and it’s taken them years to unravel it.’

‘A mistake?’

‘Yes.’

‘What kind of mistake?’

‘The kind they really wish they hadn’t; the kind I really wish they hadn’t.’

‘And what kind of mistake is that, Sir Rupert Wallamert, the Third,’ said Alison, surprised at how much she was enjoying watching the hoity-toity wizard squirm. A little voice inside her head was whispering that it wasn’t his fault, and he had been quite good to her, but she was choosing to ignore it.

‘It turns out that you are the Chosen One afterall, Alison.’

‘Oh really?’

‘Yes, really. Now, may I please come in? There is much to discuss.’

‘No.’

‘But…’

‘When I was sixteen you told me I was the Chosen One, the saviour of the world. I left everything to go with you. Six months later I was cast aside, because someone in accounting made a mistake. And it’s taken you thirty years to figure that out?’

‘Well, I, ah…’

‘I’m not interested, Rupert.’

‘But you are the Chosen One!’

‘You’re thirty years too late and I have no fucks to give,’ she said, closing the door, the poker in her hand bursting into flame.

[chocolatedragonwordmagic]

I am not a very good juggler, there are too many balls up in the air and I keep dropping several of them... but anyway, I’m back, for how long, no idea, depends on how many balls I can keep up in the air.

One of the many balls I juggle is my writing. This is one ball I rarely drop. But I’m often switching one writing ball out for another. I’ve easily got 15 different writing balls on the go at once so I keep swapping between them. Perhaps this has something to do with the ADHD I was recently diagnosed with at over 50! But that’s another topic.

Best way to describe my writing is fantasy with a touch of romance, a twist of scifi and a dash of horror. I find it hard to write “real life”. My last attempt set during the pandemic in 2020 ended up with witches, space travel and alien worlds with alien species! Almost all of my writing involves magic, dragons, swords, assassins, gods, werewolves and everything else in between.

I’ve also discovered the extra descriptive and steamy romance genre and find that I enjoy writing that too, especially as I still write it filled with werewolves, demons, vampires, ghosts, magic and the like. Among other projects I’m currently writing one involving a werewolf trio, and a side quest has popped up.

Without giving much away the protagonist wrote a book in secondary school called Tales My Grandmum Told Me which are horror stories taken from folk tales & mythology. She even illustrated them. They were good, but concerning and the school contacted her mother about them. Now, several years later, that book is being revisited - it was not part of the original story plan, it just popped itself in as I was writing!

So I’m looking for some help. Researching this stuff sends me down rabbit holes which I find hard to return from and also exhausts and fries my ADHD brain. And it’s a side quest and will distract me terribly from the main quest (it already is because right now I should be working on the main quest, not typing this up!)

If you can help me with my research it would be greatly appreciated. Please hit me with horror folk tales & mythology from all over the world so I can compile a list for later research. I’m an english speaker only, so if it’s in another language I’m a gonna need the translated version. Thanks in advance.

[chocolatedragonwordmagic]

A Different Kind of Word Magic

Today’s been a different kind of writing day.

I spent some of the day typing up the kind of word magic that I hope will promote Room at the Table Inc, a Not For Profit organisation / social enterprise I’m involved in.

RATT reduces social isolation and builds connection & community through non-sport geek subculture activities like modern boardgames, roleplaying games, costuming, trading card games etc. It often consumes almost all my waking hours so I am very glad that I love what we’re doing and creating.

The other part of my writing day consisted of typing up my notes (and a little bit of story) from the first session of the Yawning Portal D&D campaign. Fairly detailed because one player couldn’t make it and there is stuff they need to know, and do, before the next session.

Check out our wonderful Room at the Table Inc (RATT) icon. Hoping to set up a RATT tumblr in the near future which will have stories from the various rpgs we’re running, the one where we set the airship on fire springs immediately to mind.

[chocolatedragonwordmagic]

You were right @torchwoodglobal I LOVED that one. Absolutely brilliant. Had me crying at the end

You’re a daycare worker, watching over toddlers, when the imminent end of the world is announced. It becomes increasingly clear none of the kids’ parents are going to show up as the end inches nearer.

[chocolatedragonwordmagic]

Love this!

Hi Neil, what do you think of the common advice of "write what you know"? Does it have any relevance to sci-fi/fantasy writing, or should it be discarded?

I think it’s brilliant advice. I wrote about people literally living in dreams because I knew about that, and I wrote about old gods and lost cities beneath the cities we know, and walls between this world and Faerie, and America, and escaping the other world on the other side of a bricked up door where your Other Mother wants to sew buttons into your eyes because I knew about all of that, and suspected I knew about it better than anyone else who could have written it did. Definitely write what you know.

[chocolatedragonwordmagic]

Too Many Stories?!

So, I’m not sure if this a problem all writers suffer or a just me problem. Anybody else suffer from too many stories and which one they should be focusing on?

At any given time I am working in rotation on anywhere between 3 and 10 different stories! I do sometimes wonder if it is an ADHD thing...

On my list of stories to complete I have 50+ projects, and that’s not including the RPG campaign stories I’m writing, or the list of partially written ideas!!!

At the moment I am swapping between the following stories depending on my mood, brain capabilities, time and energy levels

A Murder of Crows (the problem of humans)

Sea Daughter’s Curse (magic, monsters, other worlds, an epic journey & mayhem)

The Pig Farmer & the Dragon Queen (in a world like ours but with dragons)

The Professor & I (ghosts, gods, love & mythology)

Three Rivers (the secret hidden beneath the town of 3 Rivers, includes aliens and set on earth)

A Curse of Two Houses (mythology, love & adventure)

Silver Eyed Monster (love, magic, war & the beast within)

2220 (jumping between 2020 & 2220, witches, aliens, other worlds)

Fiore (demons, magic, power struggles & romance)

Sunlight & Flame (demons, magic & romance)

Neska (wars between Ice Kings & Sun Queens & the lives of those trapped between)

And while I was thinking about all of these stories, I also had a light-bulb moment, at least I hope it was, and I hope I can make it work!

I think I’ve just figured out one of the ways I can set up my Patreon with 27 Lives Each life she lives is written as a separate chapter (or two) and I could be putting one out each month...

[chocolatedragonwordmagic]

10 Minute Prompt Write pt 2 Wisteria Trees OR Trapped in the Twisted Forest

I’m ready to try this for another ten minutes. Let’s see what happens... There maybe magic, or there maybe nothing... This is part 2, so it probably won’t make any sense unless you’ve also read part 1

She shuddered and continued to put one foot in front of the other, the sound of her footfalls swallowed by the carpet of leaves beneath her feet. ‘How long have I been here?’ she said out loud. The birds stopped singing and watched her. ‘How long have I been here?’

Nothing answered her, yet she felt that she was being watched, measured, assessed. She wondered what would happen if she failed the scrutiny; her steps faltered for a moment.

The flowering trees reaching up into the blue sky shivered, flowers fell from the branches in a flurry of swirling petals, reminding her of snow, of another time, another place.

‘A long time, Nara of Blund,’ a whisper of a breeze in her ear. ‘A very long time.’

‘How did I get here?’

‘Through the mirror of dreams.’

Leaves rustled and silent birds with red eyes watched her pass.

‘My name is Nara?’

‘Yes.’ The breeze danced through her hair, dislodging the flowers that had fallen there.

[chocolatedragonwordmagic]

10 Minute Prompt Write pt 1 Wisteria Trees

I’ve been feeling a little stale and uninspired when it comes to writing - I suspect the constant late nights and early mornings aren’t helping. My eyes are tired, my head feels like it’s stuffed full of cotton-wool (actually not all that unusual with my ADHD brain).

So today I will try something a little different on this beautiful, cold morning; this is something I usually only do in my writers’ group as I don’t usually share my first drafts. I’m gonna use this picture prompt and see if I can find the magic and the story this picture wants me to tell in the next ten minutes...

There is no sound as she walks barefoot through the forest of twisting trees, each footfall swallowed by the carpet of leaves and purple flowers coating the forest floor. It seemed like she’d been here for eternity, forever walking, knowing that if she stopped, she died.

So even though her bones were weary and her feet ached; even though all she wanted to do was lie down upon the carpet of leaves and flowers and sleep, she kept on going, one foot in front of the other. She did not want to die here in this beautiful, twisted place.

In the branches birds flitted and sang, their voices bright and beautiful, a lullaby to the soul. But she knew the truth of these birds that were not birds, she had seen what had happened when those who had been her companions had lain themselves down upon the forest floor. She shuddered and continued to put one foot in front of the other.

The timer just beeped. My ten minutes is up. I still have no idea what the story is, and this is not what I was expecting to write. Perhaps I’ll do another ten minutes a bit later and see if I get any more...

[chocolatedragonwordmagic]

Not Drowning, Waving (I hope)

Okay, so doing some experimenting here. The little icons that I need to click on to insert a photo have disappeared which is why my very first post is photoless. But apparently, (advice from another tumblr user) if I press enter and have a blank line, the icons will come back and I’ll be able to use them. Let’s see...

Yup, that’s exactly what happens. So, if I click on the icon in my next blank line, where does the picture end up? Another blank line coming up...

Ahhhh! So that’s how people get pics in the middle of their posts. This is a Japanese Wisteria tree btw. Incredibly beautiful, mystical and otherworldly. Another one of the many photos and pics I have in my writing folder to use for inspiration or as a writing prompt.

Somewhere in my head there is a story that has these trees in it.

How do I know this?

Every time I look at this picture I get the sense of a story wanting to be told. I don’t know what it is; I don’t know if these trees are a major part of the story, or just a scene or just as part of the backdrop. I guess I will have to start writing and find out...

[chocolatedragonwordmagic]

I love using writing prompts, anything will do, pictures, words, situations, first lines, dialogue etc - as a way to create Word Magic. Of course, a 10-20 free write based off a prompt is a first draft. My first drafts have a seed of magic, but still need crafting and refining before they become Word Magic and I let them out to roam into public.

I have a seed of an idea for this...

...something about the ancient stone fish Kethalus, not sure if he is from the Sea Daughter’s world of Urduraku or one of the other Gated Worlds. I guess I will need to give myself some time to write and find out.

[chocolatedragonwordmagic]

Word Magic

So today I venture into the world of Tumblr for the first time. I have no idea what I’m doing or what to expect, but if nothing else, I’m good at throwing myself in at the deep end and floundering around for a while.

In the right hands, words are magic. That said, in the wrong hands they can be dangerous and cruel, but my focus is on the magic of words, how you can take them and weave them and create something beautiful and wondrous, transporting you to another world, catching you in their magic.

I love words and language and the meaning of things. I love how writers can take them and turn them into stories that capture my mind, my imagination with their magic.

I LOVE to write. It was my dream as a kid to be an author, but my parents dissuaded me from that dream... and yet, the dream never went away. So a lifetime later I am back where I started, dreaming of being an author and creating magic with words.