Great Beginnings

A few days ago I responded to a writing prompt on a Wattpad Workshop led by Alice Kuipers. It was about writing great beginnings, which is a skill every great writer needs (and one I'm not sure I've mastered yet). How many great books have been put down and never finished because they failed to pull you in right at the beginning? I have so many books I want to read that if one doesn't pull me in within the first couple of chapters, I give up and move on. And those are the lucky ones to have made it that far. If I'm standing in a bookstore, trying to decide on a book, I'll read the first page. If I'm not immediately filled with desperation to know what happens next, I don't buy it.

So, the challenge was to write the beginning of a story or novel using the phrase "A storm is on its way" and try to make it irresistible with only 400 words. Alice was kind enough to give feedback on the entries, but I thought I'd also like to share my entry here and let you be the judge of whether I was successful or not. Tell me, have I created an enticing beginning? Enjoy.

“A storm is on its way.”

I wish I could get that line out of my head. That and the way she’d looked at me when she said it. She tried to play it cool, bending over my palm, frizzy black hair falling across her face. But I could still see the frown lines decorating her face, the creases in her forehead. Her mouth tight and straight as a pin.

“It can be a good thing,” she reminded me. “Storms bring renewal, they cleanse.” But we both knew it wasn’t that kind of storm.

I tried to remind myself that I didn’t believe in fortune telling as I walked home, trudging along the sidewalk. Fall was in full swing, the leaves dancing across the sidewalk like kids at play. I’d only done it for fun, I told myself. They’re all fake anyhow. It was how they made their money. They made you want to come back and learn more. They made you desperate.

Despite it all, I couldn’t rid myself of a growing sense of foreboding. Every shadow seemed to be reaching for me, their sharp fingers stretching out long and narrow. Every object seemed full of malice. The swings at the park seemed to shriek, the mailbox on the corner gaped at me with its open, hungry mouth.

When I got home I locked the door behind me, taking the stairs two at a time, pushing my bedroom door closed behind me. It was all just make belief. That fortune teller couldn’t actually tell the future. I moved towards the window and peered out around the curtain. It was bright and sunny, not a cloud in the sky. It should have reassured me, but it didn’t. A storm was on its way, I could feel it in the pit of my stomach.

Word on the Street

I know you probably looked at the title of this post and thought I was making some kind of slang remark, but I'm not. This past weekend I attended Word on the Street, a literary festival here in Saskatoon. There are lots of cities that have them, and Saskatoon actually only started last year. Sadly, last year I was working and could only sneak out on my lunch break to catch one reading. This year, I had the day off and could spend as much time as I wanted wandering about.

If you've never been to this kind of literary event, they're great. They had tents set up all over the place, with authors giving readings, panel discussions and poetry slams. There were book and magazine sellers set up with booths, fun activities for the kids and music. It was a literary extravaganza! And I had a ball. I took in a reading from author Alice Kuipers, watched a poetry slam and saw a panel discussion featuring Yann Martel discussing his experiences with his book, Life of Pi, being turned into a movie (and got my copy signed). And do you want to know the honest truth? My favorite was the poetry slam.

I've never been one to enjoy poetry. I've written it from time to time, and there are a few poets I like (yeats), but I don't enjoy poetry books. I don't read them. This, I enjoyed. The poets were fantastic speakers. They made me split a gut laughing, almost cry with sorrow and made my heart swell up with happiness. They put on a wonderful show. And if they'd been scheduled for another show, I would have watched it again.

There's something about wandering around a place filled with literature, fellow book lovers and other writers. It's exhilarating and nurturing at the same time. I hope if you hear about an even like this near you, you'll find a way to make an appearance. You'll be glad you did.

Another Piece of Flash Fiction

Hello all!

I'm recovering nicely from my monstrous cold, and in celebration I thought I'd share with you a piece of flash fiction I wrote for the Wattpad Workshop Series, hosted by Alice Kuipers. This week's writing prompt was to imagine that you walk into a room you know well, only to discover a trap door hidden in the floor. Here's my attempt, I hope you enjoy it!

I suppose it was boredom more than anything that made me do it. 

The rain was pouring down outside for the fifth day in a row and my skin was crawling. The power had been out for over an hour and I'd run out of things to do, which I suppose is why I was cleaning my office.

I'd lit a single candle, its trembling flame casting shadows on the walls. The room had become a dumping ground for all the things I didn't want to deal with, and after five days of rain I was finally willing to give it a go. 

Part of me believes that it wasn't there before, that the rain and boredom and mess called it into being. However it got there, it was indeed there. I was pulling a dusty, old armchair across the floor when a leg caught the carpet and tore it, pulling it cleanly up and away from the floor. 

"Shit!" I fell to my knees, clutching the torn carpet in my hands.

Beneath the carpet, in the flickering light of the candle, something caught my eye. I lifted the carpet higher, wincing as it tore even more. It was a handle, a small, flat little handle that appeared to be attached to a trap door.

Curiosity piqued, I abandoned all hope of fixing the carpet and tore it back. I was right. It was a trap door. I lifted the handle, opening the lid with a loud creak.

A small, wooden staircase disappeared down into the darkness. I stood, considering it, even attempting to talk myself out of it, before I picked up the candle and carefully made my way down the stairs.

If I'd know I could never come back, I wonder if I still would have done it. But then, decisions are easier when you don't know the consequences.

There you have it! I hope you enjoyed it, I had fun writing it. I hope you've all had a great weekend, and as always, I encourage you to leave comments, questions and feedback below in the comments section. Feel free to follow this blog, as well as find me on twitter @MelanieKCole. Have a great night!

The Wattpad Workshop

I don't know if any of my fellow writers out there are the same as me, but I find that if I don't challenge myself frequently (with courses, workshops, writing prompts, etc), then my ambition grows stagnant. I don't feel the urge or the inspiration to write, and my time gets taken over by other things. Suddenly, I'll realize it's been weeks, even months, since I wrote anything.

So, in an effort to prevent laziness and boredom from taking over, I've decided to take part in Alice Kuipers Wattpad Workshop. She's doing a series, the first of which deals with inspiration and writer's block. We're only one week in but I already love it. Our writing prompt for this week was to write from the perspective of someone who's had a brain injury in the part of the brain that controls imagination and ideas. I had so much fun writing it that I thought I'd share it with you. Let me know what you think!

The clock is ticking in the corner. I look at it, try to feel something for the sound it makes. I can remember vaguely a sensation I used to feel when I heard it, the way it used to stir things inside me, things I can now no longer recall.


I sit up and shake my head, turning to stare out the window instead. The rain is pelting down against the window, showering the grass and sidewalk in waves. The sky is grey. The clouds heavy, hovering just above the trees. An optical illusion, I tell myself, as I watch the rain fall.

The feeling of familiarity remains. Rain used to create a similar reaction to the ticking of the clock. But there is no stirring inside, no rush of emotions. Instead, it is simply pretty.

The drops of rain thud against the roof, the percussive sound joining with the clock. Occasionally, the crack of thunder adds its bellow and I sit, listening as I stare out the window.

James should have been home by now. He said he's be home from the gym by four o'clock. His workouts had grown longer and more frequent since I'd come home from hospital, one of the many, almost imperceptible changes in our relationship since the accident.

I would catch him watching me with a strange look in his eye, one I didn't recognize. I know I'd changed. He'd told me so. And there were the feelings of longing, of loss for something I couldn't identify.

I realized it was possible that he was no longer at the gym, that he'd never gone there to begin with. I knew there must be a reason why he wasn't home when he said he'd be. But I couldn't for the life of me think of what it could be. So, I sit and wait, wondering why I feel so empty inside.

There we have it! As always, your thoughts and comments are welcome in the comments section (and are greatly appreciated!) I hope you enjoyed my little attempt, and are enjoying this slightly fiction heavy week. Have a great day!

40 Things I Want to Tell You - A Book Review

Last weekend I had the good fortune of sitting down to read Alice Kuipers' new book, 40 THINGS I WANT TO TELL YOU. As you know, I already think Alice Kuipers is a remarkable human being (read my tribute to her here). But I can honestly say (without fear of being biased) that her latest book is a true work of art. Everyone, adults and youngs adults alike, should read her book. It's just that good.

Here is the synopsis from the book jacket:

"Amy (a.k.a. Bird) seems to have the perfect life: loving parents, a hot boyfriend, the best friend ever. She even writes an online advice column, full of Top Tips, to help other teens take control of their lives. But after a new guy shows up at school, Bird can’t seem to follow her own wisdom.

Pete is the consummate bad boy. He’s everything Bird is not: wild, unambitious and more than a little dangerous. Although she knows he’s trouble, Bird can’t stay away. And the more drawn she is to Pete, the more cracks are revealed in her relationship with Griffin, her doting boyfriend. Meanwhile, her parents’ marriage is also fracturing, possibly for good.

Bird is way out of her comfort zone. All it takes is one mistake, one momentary loss of control, for her entire future to be blown away . . ."

The book is amazing. The writing grabbed me right from the start. At one moment I was in my own world, the next I was in Bird's. I couldn't believe how immediately I connected with the character, how I felt watching her entire world fall apart around her. I felt as though I were reading the story of a close friend, not a made up character.

I think the reason Bird is such a compelling character is because she's so human. Who hasn't missed the warning signs? What hasn't had their expectations fall to pieces around them? Who hasn't, at some point or another, felt utterly alone? Bird is a character with such depth, such undeniable hope, it's impossible not to identify with her.

The story progresses beautifully, near impossible to put down the whole way through. (And I should know, despite having a full time job and countless other responsibilities I read it in 48 hours). It's a wonderful story, skillfully told and deeply moving. It's the kind of tale that sits with you, that teaches you something you never knew about yourself. Do yourself and your weekend a favour, go out and buy this book.

A Tribute to Alice Kuipers, Writer Extraordinaire

On Thursday night I attended the launch of Alice Kuiper's new book, 40 THINGS I WANT TO TELL YOU at McNally Robinson. It was fabulous! I had SUCH a good time. The place was packed with friends and fans, with the staff having to scramble to bring out more chairs. It's not a surprise though, because not only is Alice an exceptionally talented writer, but she's also an exceptional human being. If you want the truth, here it is: Alice Kuipers is my hero.

In December of 2010, I sent her an email while she was working as the Writer in Residence at the public library. I was nervous about coming in. I'd been thinking about writing for a long time, considering whether or not it was a possible to do it professionally, and I suffered from a supreme lack of confidence. Alice encouraged me to come in and bring some of my work. And with a little convincing, I did. It was one of the best things I've ever done.

Going to meet with her was positively nerve wracking. I remember sitting in the chair outside her office, feeling queasy and embarrassed. I so desperately wanted to hear that there was hope for me, but at the same time I was positive she was going to gently break the news that dreams of professional writing were unrealistic. After all, my entire life I'd wanted to be a writer, but everyone had always told me it was a pipe dream - like wanting to become a movie star. When I was twelve, an auntie once broke out laughing when I told her and reminded me through giggles that writers don't make any money. Defeated, I'd stopped telling people. Instead, I followed other paths, but none of them ever left me feeling fulfilled or happy. I hated every job I tried.

The first thing Alice did when I met her, was sit me down and ask me questions. Why did I want to be writer? What kind of writer did I want to be? What was I working on now? It was amazing. I sat there, flabbergasted, unsure of what to say or how to answer. She was asking me real questions. She was taking me seriously. There wasn't a trace of amusement on her face. She wasn't humoring me. She really wanted to know. And so it began. I saw her every month for her entire residency, each time sending her my work to critique. I took classes she was teaching and grew a lot as a writer. Granted, I still have a long way to go and plenty more to learn (I don't think anyone ever stops learning), but Alice Kuipers was the first person to ever take me seriously. She made me believe it was possible.

And so, as I sit here on a quiet Saturday afternoon, enjoying my signed copy of her latest book (which you should all run out and buy, it's fantastic!) I think about how Alice Kuipers took the time to talk to me, to help me, and most importantly, to take me seriously. It is because of her help that I am working at my dream, and I know I'm not alone. Alice Kuipers, not only are you a fabulous writer, you are an amazing person. THANK YOU.

*If you'd like to learn more about Alice Kuipers and her books, visit www.alicekuipers.com