onlyemma's Diaryland Diary ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Re-discovering the old me and the art of story writing
I'm currently sitting in my room at 10.50pm and everyone in my house seems to be in bed - evidence that the hardcore, staying up til the early hours lifestyle of my uni days, is well and truly over. It's quite depressing and in more ways than one, makes me feel like I'm 16 again and should be cracking open Lord of the Flies and revising for my GCSEs. I had a huge clearout of my room today and found copious amounts of extremely ugly photos of myself and lots of childish notes by me and my friends about boys, liking boys, talking to boys and asking each other if boys noticed us. And I found the stories that I used to write, where me and my friends (usually whoever I was sitting with in a lesson) wrote a paragraph each and then passed the jotter around so each of us contributed. We often attempted to write horror stories which was as much to do with us all being in the Point Horror/ Goosebumps stages of our lives, as it was the fact that collectively, none of us had enough experience with boys to effectively write a romance. It was a real honour to be invited to join these stories though because it meant that you were well thought of as a friend and could also be trusted with the responsibility of contributing a high standard of story telling. (Of course, this was a silent code, but it was true nonetheless.) It was always awful when someone let you down and wrote a really crap paragraph though. No-one was allowed to change previous paragraphs so if, unfortunately, that happened, I usually took it upon myself to get the story back on track when my paragraph came around. Sometimes I felt I might as well have written it all myself, which wasn't the point. However, in the case of a truely dire paragraph or story which could not be salvaged, this act of inconsideration would lead me to selflessly sabotage the whole story by using my own cunning linguistic expertise. For example: Laura: "Hey Erik!" Jacob shouted as he walked over to him. "Wassup!" he laughed. Erik looked at him, then down to the floor. "Hey, sorry, just a joke". A tear started rolling down Erik's face. At this point Laura tries to save the story, which at first glance looks like it's ruined by me, but was actually doomed from the moment we decided to use O-Town members as characters: The rest of the page is blank. What a control freak, I'm actually quite embarrassed of myself. Looking through my various story-filled jotters I also see that I corrected my friends' grammer throughout, like a geek. I don't know why I thought I was so great at English, but I'm hoping it was probably just one of those phases you go through at school, like changing your handwriting to just capitals or writing everything in felt tip. Anyway, it's getting late so I should go. Though before I do, I thought I would share a riveting pre-Diaryland diary entry that I wrote when I was a passionate 13 year old. No wonder I thought I was amazing. 10:50 p.m. - 2006-06-23 ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- |
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