Plot 2

Scenario:

Freja, thin wears braces, loves G&T
Wearing a fringed leather biker jacket
Christian, tall, handsome, grey hair
He is feeling guilty that he has stolen the heart of another woman
The object is a sports car
she is feeling girlish and shy

Freja, the heroine of the piece is sitting in a bar, flustered as the straw for her G&T keeps getting stuck in her braces. she is wearing a fringed leather biker jacket, miles too big for her. She is hoping it will give her false confidence. she is waiting for something, someone, and keeps blushing, looking round furtively.

A flash car pulls up and Christian, the man she has been talking to online gets out and walks towards the door. He looks exactly like his picture, only 10 years older. he has definitely stretched the truth somewhat. He is looking anxious. He spots her, smiles, and makes his way over to the table.

She fights the urge to run away. There's a chance he could be old enough to be her dad. A good looking version of her dad mind you. She wonders at what point she can suggest hair dye to him. Aware of the fact that her thoughts are getting more random she smiles at him. Its like talking to an old friend, maybe it won't be so bad after all. All those long nights chatting had really made her want to fall for him.

He broke her out of her revere. I have something to confess he says. Her mood takes a turn for the worse. I'm married, with two kids, but I have really fallen for you. I've left her a note, my bags are in the car, and I thought I could move in with you.

She is shocked, at the betrayal, and at the grey hair, his age is back in the equation. 'Sod off' she says. She takes one last sip of her drink whilst standing and storms out of the bar, to the strains of 'what do you mean sod off, I love you..."

6 months later, Freja is on a beach with her new beau Dave. Christian is in couples therapy.

Plots 1

Scenario: guilty woman, Pointlessly angry, hungry and tired

Everything is against me. I've been waiting for ages. I shouldn't have left her there, but I was feeling so unreasonable. What if she dies. what if I die. I feel like I've been walking for days. if only she hadn't questioned my map reading skills.

I shouldn't have walked off. I was just hot, tired and feeling a bit wound up. I suppose she does have the compass. I still have the map though. No signal on my phone, so I can't ring her. Bloody woman, more trouble than she's worth. I didn't want to go on a 10 mile hike anyway. Although, I think she probably realises this now.

I wonder if we will talk again? We will have to talk again at least once so that i can check that she is still alive!

...and she has the sandwiches, hang on, is that a mirage, or do I spy a sign of civilisation over there. And is there a possibility that I see a swinging pub sign? Heaven, maybe i will find her there...

Homework - Characters

Your character is in an art gallery, examining paintings when suddenly he or she becomes dizzy. They discover themselves inside the painting, having to cope with whatever situation is depicted there.

Favourite shoes: Office
Favourite clothes: Betty Jackson
Attitude to tarot reading: for
Most feared object: spiders
Worst memory: the death of her father from a heart attack

God, its hot in here. Haven't they ever heard of air conditioning. Where is the curator, when I need him, this is ridiculous, I paid good money for this exhibition.

Oh, look at that. Bit, more cheerful than her usual efforts, let me get closer as there is no one around. Well, I really am, feeling most peculiar, there are colours flashing around me and what is that noise? Sounds like a bird.

Hello, did you know that you look very much like Frida Kahlo?

Frida, raised her eyebrow, took a drag of her cigarette and said in a heavily accented voice, 'I would hope so'.

What's going on, where's the gallery, what is this hot dusty place, did I pass out. How did I get here?

'Well you did kind of appear out of nowhere. What exactly are you doing in my courtyard? Are you one of Deigo's floozys?'

'Good lord no, I'm a huge fan of yours, not so much a fan of Diego, although I do like a good mural. I'm not sure how I got here, I must have been overcome by the heat.'

'I'm not surprised, wearing all that black. Here, use that chair and I will go and get you some water.'

I sit in the chair, feeling sleepy, my eyelids close. 'Miss? Miss? Are you ok?' The curator is shaking me.

'Yes', I gasp. In the distance I can still hear the parrots.

Homework - Modern Red Riding Hood, prose

Keira thought that Mr Moran, Bob, was great

She rested her elbows dreamily on her desk and sighed

It was,

the best lesson of the day.

She saw him after class, excited, and proud

Singled out, she smiled, rapt at his attention

He was,

curious and interested about her.

Keira divulged her dreams, she thought, were shared

They kissed, sealing her fate

Her future,

was swallowed by his actions.

Therapy helped, she clawed her way back from inside her head

Hopes and fears regrown

Bob, banished

never to return.

Homework - stripper in strange land

Stripper who falls asleep in a remote cave while hiking. They watch the evening star which seems unusually bright. When they wake, they discover themselves on an alien landscape, and there seems to be some sort of conflict going on around them

'Shit its hot', Sophie said to herself. She started the climb down into the canyon as the Vegas dessert heat radiated off all of the surfaces.

She hadn't slept much. She had been so determined to get up and see some of her day off. Spending the whole week in the dark, working nights, was no good for her. She may be a high class stripper, but there was no glamour. Her only pride was in that she had not succumbed to the seeder sides of that lifestyle.

Reaching the bottom of the canyon, she searched for some shade. Other dessert hoppers posting maps, routes and shelter on the internet. You could never be sure who was a credible source though. She always emailed the details to her friend. The instructions being that if she did not reappear, that the police should be contacted.

She was in luck this time. She found the cave. The perfect place for a spot of tea. She was ravenous from her climb, and had come well prepared with food as fuel. She wolfed down her bucket of pasta and started to feel a little sleepy.

Although aware that she should start back to keep the dusk on her side, the hours she kept were creeping up on her. She looked at the stars, they were very bright tonight. One especially seemed nearly surreal, and was accompanied by two others which twinkled in and out of existence. She felt her eyes close, it couldn't hurt.

She woke up feeling disorientated. Everything felt and sounded the same but there was a purple glow coming from the mouth of the cave. She wondered if there was a canyon party going on. A crazy Vegas treasure trail.

She stood up and walked outside. It was night time, but the purple glow was so strong that it lit up the landscape. The glow was centred around a moon. Big and bright. It was complimented by two smaller moons which were rotating around it slowly, but perceptibly.

Sophie slapped herself round the face. 'What the hell!' Unfortunately, she was awake, and it appeared that she wasn't in Kansas, or Vegas, any more.

There was some wind, and it carried the sound of war and bloodshed. She wasn't keen to go towards this sound of chaos, but, it was the only sound of civilisation she could hear. She started to climb the canyon.

Climbing was easier in this purple night. It was cooler and she made good progress. She headed towards the noise and was surprised to see that it came from a single building, seemingly architecturally alone. I suppose she should have been surprised by the bloody big blue dragon that was breathing blue fire at the buildings inhabitants. However, it was so out of her realm of understanding that it took her a while to realise the reality of her situation.

The people in the building were shooting arrows inconsequentially at the dragon. Suddenly, she wished the dessert plain wasn't quite so plain.

There was one of those moments. Like being a stranger walking into a locals pub where everyone turned to look at her. Including the dragon. Luckily, going down a gear to blue smoke as it turned its head.

The dragon, who had, as dragons do, been looking for a damsel in distress, changed target very quickly. It scooped her up and off they went towards the purple moons. Sophie couldn't take any more and passed out.

When she came to, she realised she was lying on the floor of a cave similar to the one she had started off in. Blocking her way though was the afore mentioned bloody big blue dragon. Pretending to be unconscious still she studied it. Its scales, were a brilliant gleaming blue. It was such a beautiful creature. She nearly forgot to be scared, especially as she say a glistening tear in its eye.

Trying not to draw attention to herself she crept towards the creature. She wanted to do something non threatening to make the dragon feel at ease. There wasn't much she could do apart from dance. Six nights a week she did that. Whilst aware of her precarious position and the size of the dragons claws, she visualised the music in her head and started a seductive, slow dance.

The dragon, if dragons can, looked quizzical. She continued, deciding that anything was better than angry dragon. She continued, edging closer to the dragon until she felt sure that it wouldn't hurt her. She felt an irresistible urge to touch it, and she finally gave in. She put her hand on the highest point she could reach, between throat and belly, and gave it a stroke.

The dragon started rumbling, she snatched her hand away and was just about to retreat when she realised that the dragon was purring. She stroked the dragon again and continued until she started to feel sleepy. She could see the dragon getting sleepy too, but, it was more than that. She could feel the dragon getting sleepy, in her head, like she was experiencing it too. It was overwhelming, and for the second time that day she passed out.

She awoke to find her spirit soaring, she realised there was no land around her and she was tucked up inside the dragons claws. She could feel its emotions, its elation, its freedom. It was inspiring, this natural happiness was something she had never been able to attain. They touched down in the dog walking area of the park round the back of her house. She climbed out from its claws and kissed the middle of its palm. A tear fell down the dragons face again.

'Don't cry dragon', Sophie whispered. You have given me a great gift of spirit and fire and I won't waste it. Please don't be lonely. Why don't you try and break free from tradition and befriend the dwellers of whatever land it was we were on.

The dragon purred and started to fill up its belly with smoke. She waved goodbye as it took to the skies, until it disappeared around the one yellow moon which she was more familiar with.

Who am I?

Alice in Wonderland at a Cy Twombly exhibition

Who on earth has scribbled on that wall, what's going on? Highly suspicious, I should say. And, why is that wall so many shades of green? Curiouser and curiouser. I must have been at those magic mushrooms again.

Its so busy in here. People are talking in snooty voices, like they were Kings and Queens. Why are they all so pleased with themselves. I must be dreaming. They mover round the room like they are at a Mad Hatters tea party.

Someone has drawn a line over there with numbers on. Like my school ruler. If I were to draw a line that would people come and stare at it? Maybe they would. Oh, if only I could wake up, I would give it a go.

Where are they all off too? I shall follow. Oh look, its a piece of wood with a real nail in. It looks like it could cause an injury. Its been painted white though. Does that mean something? Would it mean something more in a different colour?

That couple over there look ever so alike. Like Tweedledum and Tweedledee. They are both far to busy disagreeing with each other to pay attention to anything else. This room makes me feel disagreeable too.

If only I could click my heels and go home. But then, that would make me a different fictional character altogether.

Week 3 creative writing course

Character and crime
Character: Women who has been abducted by aliens, but no one believes her
Crime: Possession of illegal substances

'I didn't put it there', she cried, 'I haven't been in possession of my own mind since a week last Sunday, so how can I be held responsible', she told the policeman.

'Anything in my pockets isn't my own, especially that illegal substance anything, you see, I was abducted by aliens and I only came back yesterday.'

'That old chestnut', said the Sergeant, 'It wasn't me, it was the little green men. Why don't you tell me what really happened?' he leaned forward in his chair.

'I can see you're a nice suburban sort, admit it. Its out of character. You'll get off with a caution or a fine. You are only making it worse for yourself.'

'But its true', she said, 'I was having my tea and all of a sudden there was a flash. I came round and I had missed a whole week, it was Monday and I was wandering the streets with drugs in my pocket.

'How did you know I was going to be there? Is it a conspiracy? Did they tip you off? Do I know too much? Except, I know too little. I can't remember.'

She looked confused and the Sergeant looked bored. He spoke into the telephone in the room. 'Better get a doctor', he said.

Homework – "Don't think about a cow", Matt Brinkley said

'Don't think about a cow', Matt Brinkley said to Seb, who was looking up at him,
'think about something smaller, like a chicken, or a pig, it will be easier to do with your limited resources'.

Seb, 9, cursed his mother and sighed inwardly. Trust his mum to not pack enough materials for his school farmyard project. It was always him who was missing something vital.

Meanwhile, Sophie Wren, Seb's mother, suddenly wondered why her laptop bag was full of cereal boxes and newspaper. 'Bugger', she muttered under her breath. 'He's going to kill me'.

'What was that, Mel'? Marcie, her PA said. 'Oh nothing, just ruining Seb's life again'. Sophie replied. Marcie looked sympathetic. 'Tea?'

She sent Seb a text to apologise, 'sorry hun, bag swap crisis, hope it didn't affect your work, love you, mum. Xxx'. Whilst she was sending it, she reflected on Seb's life, and what she had put him through in his short 9 years. Admittedly, not all her fault, but she hadn't made his life easy.

It had started with the hospital. All those long hours sitting by his bed had taken its toll on her marriage. Marc had stopped dropping by so much, stopped being at home so much as well for that matter. She hadn't had time to deal with it then. Being by Seb's bedside was the most important thing. Watching him sleep, watching him breathe, and praying that he would live, and thrive.

At one point, it got to a stage where they hadn't spoken for a whole week. The next time they spoke was when Marc had told her he wanted to separate. He hadn't signed up for illness and misery. He had signed up for a perfect family, causing no trouble, and a wife who looked after him. She took this stoically. She had no energy to fight, and no will to.

Day, after day she sat in that hospital. Seb was barely awake, and she couldn't concentrate on anything. The only people she saw in those long hours was the paediatrician, Lucy Mainsbridge. She popped in every day. As time went on, she took to sitting with them. Sometimes talking, sometimes not. It was Lucy, who put her hand in Mel's when Seb started rallying and the prognosis looked better. She was also the one who rang to see if she was ok when they finally went home, who kissed her during the picnic on Seb's first outdoor outing in a long time.

Marc had caused some problems when he found out. It wasn't that he wanted to be with her and Seb, he just didn't want his son to be around 'such people', as he put it. The court battle had been long and bloody. She had tried to keep Seb out of it, but she was worried that the scars would take longer to heal than those of his surgery.

The phone jolted her out of her reverie, 'Its Lucy', Marcia said through the ear piece. 'Thanks put her through'. She picked up the phone and waited for Lucy to speak.
'Hi, how's your day going, hun, I'm finishing up early so I'll pick up tea on the way home'.
'I screwed up, Seb went to school with only half of his project materials. I am such a bad mum.'
'Don't be ridiculous, he loves you, and her knows how much you do to look after him'.

Feeling reassured, Mel hung up. As she did her phone beeped, it was Seb. 'Hey ma, don't worry, borrowed off Henry, made 2 chickens. One for you and one for Lucy, love you. Xx'

Mel's smile lit up her face. Maybe she wasn't such a screw-up after all. She swivelled in her chair, caught some dangling wires and nearly toppled over. She laughed heartily and got on with finishing up her day so she could go home to her family.

Story based on picture of a body lying on the floor

I had always felt it. That feeling of being slightly off. It became a reality. It took some getting used to, but, I think I fitted in quite well when I put my mind to it.

I walked into the house. It was empty. The heat of the room became so oppressive that I breathed a sigh of relief when I slipped my feet out of my shoes and touched down on the ice cold floor. Bliss.

I don't know why I was surprised the place was empty. It always felt like it, even when inhabited, there was nothing captured in this frame. No warmth, no love and certainly no laughter.

I crept into the back room, relishing the opportunity to be alone with my thoughts. There would be a price to pay for not joining them, surely. You can't avoid your nature, no matter how hard you try.

They were my family now. My real family were long gone. I remembered them with what little heart I had left. It became more of an effort as time went on to keep the flame of emotion within me.

My stomach growled and i felt weak. I stretched out on the cold marble floor, pressing every inch of my body onto it, wanting to feel something other than being alone.

I must have dozed, as I was woken with a start by the sound of the door creaking. Feeling the tension crackle in the air I tried to compose myself without showing submission. They sensed me and entered the room. As I glanced at their faces those brave thoughts left me and I begged for their forgiveness.

It seemed like hours before he stepped up towards me and spoke, 'You are young and impetuous'. I stifled a nervous laugh, the older they were, the more flowery the language. i did not associate myself with them; the slightly stuffy exterior, the cold heart. I didn't want to be like them. I would rather burn.

'I know your thoughts', he said. 'You must feed, if you want to live'. Complimenting their language for once I answered in kind. 'I do not live', I said. 'I fear I must die. Properly this time'.

Creative writing course

Week two: writing without thinking too much

Fence

My nan wanted a new fence. Just a nice, ordinary one, not costing much money. My dad being my dad was not happy with this. He wanted to build the best fence in the world, at the most expensive price, and give her the bill. Its a matter of perspective. He thought he was doing a great job. She didn't think she would still be around to appreciate it in 10 years time.

Milk shake

I always wanted milk shake as a child and we were never allowed it. Except, on very special occasions, and only at Wimpy. Never at McDonald's or any other food establishment. Only Wimpy, because it was a proper restaurant, and they came to serve you at your table.

Wooden wardrobe

Once on a school trip we discovered that the boys had brought booze, Lowenbrau, no less. They chickened out of drinking it, and my friend and I sat in a wooden wardrobe drinking it. It wasn't very sturdy and we were nearly 15. It tipped and nearly toppled over. We laughed, and didn't get caught. The boys were impressed.

A walk in the park

When I was at Primary School I never had exciting weekends and I always wanted to. So, when writing my Monday morning, 'What I did at the weekend', I said I had gone to the park, all on my own. I was 4! Afterwards, I was worried for days that social services would appear.

Fishpond

One Summer, my friend and I were in her garden. We looked in her fishpond and a disease had killed some of the fish and frogs. We decided to cremate them in the shed. It got out of hand and we accidentally burnt a lot of the shed down, including her mum's fabric. She was an interior designer. She didn't notice cause she was going blind.

Homework - The crossing - A Fairy Tale

As a child I sat by the banks of the river, dreaming. Whether the sun was red, or the clouds hung over the top of the reeds, I faced it, bravely. Whenever I sat by the river, I forgot about hardships, I thought only of the future, what could happen, what I wanted to happen. I looked at the river and expected stepping stones to appear, a boat to take me across, or a fairy to secure my passage.

As I turned away from the river of my childhood, to face uncertainty on a different continent, I wished my legs were longer. I thought then I would surely be able to cross it.

Growing up I felt unsettled, like a nose out of joint, a book out of the library, a worm on the turn. I stagnated, I had no flow and no direction.

As an adult, I returned once again to the river. I looked at its wide mouth, it felt like freedom and I wanted to see what the other side would feel like. I looked at my legs, they were still not long enough to stretch to my destiny.

Looking closer, I saw below me a break in the water. Arising from the water was a woman, dressed in robes that shone with rich colour. Her voice was like a song; like a bubbling brook; like every dream I had ever had. Her words were not conventional, I could not repeat them, but they went straight into my heart, and it soared. It went over the river, taking me with it. Pulling me, and guiding me. I felt quite breathless and more than a little giddy. I reached the other side.

Turning to see the woman, I saw she was dropping back into the water. The sunset over her head was like a halo, burnt orange, fading to ochre and she, if a colour, would be gold, although it was like nothing I had ever seen before. I waved and looked at the path ahead of me. I could see hills, mountains, winding paths and straight ones. Dirt, floods and famines. It was all mine, waiting. And I stepped into it gratefully. Ready to finally begin.

This and that: based on Girl Jamaica Kincaid

This

Monday, tuna sandwiches again, no mayo, eat tea, cold meat and scummy potatoes; flute and homework. Tuesday, ham, no salad, eat tea, spaghetti bolognese, flute and homework. Wednesday, cheese, no pickle, eat tea, chilli, flute and homework. Thursday, corned beef, no nothing, eat tea, liver and bacon, flute and homework. Friday, crab paste, yuk!, eat tea, fish and chips, flute and homework. Saturday, salad for lunch, stew for tea, go to the library, read all the books from the library. Sunday, roast dinner, flute and homework. Mustn't leave the table without asking, mustn't eat off the knife, Must eat my peas, must eat potato croquettes, or get a smack, no sweets, no pop, no salt, no colourful food. Eat all the food on the plate. You are too fat. Don't speak unless you are spoken too, don't go in the living room, don't go out to play. Don't have long hair its not practical, you can't do that, you can't go there. Don't be seen, don't be heard.

That

Monday, leftovers for lunch, ww recipe for dinner, proof-reading, reading reading and bed. Tuesday, leftovers for lunch, ww recipe for dinner, proof-reading, reading reading and bed. Wednesday, leftovers for lunch, ww recipe for dinner, do something cultural and bed. Thursday, go to the cafe, ww recipe for dinner, date night and bed. Friday, something out of a tin, drink! Saturday, drive, drink later. Sunday, read, eat, chores, gardening. Mustn't lose control over routine, mustn't tell life story after one drink. Eat all the food on the plate. You are too fat. Must keep up to date with chores, must earn more money, must be married, or at least attempt marriage, not hang around with girls. Must be adult, must be child, must be friend, lover, loner. Must work hard, not be late. Must be creative, achieve, embody, empower, sleep. Be seen and be heard.

Creative writing course

Class one: writing from a childs perspective: childhood memory

I was on holiday, it was hot and my parents said not to bother with a nightdress. I went to bed. They left to go for dinner.

Suddenly, I was in the hotel lift, naked, with a strange man. I was really confused and scared, but, he explained that I had slept-walked into the lift. He asked if I knew my room number, but I didn't. He took me to reception.

My parents were found in the hotel restaurant and rushed me back upstairs. They were quite cross with me for interrupting their dinner.

Writing the perspective of Not now Bernard, into more of a we need to talk about Kevin

'Mum, I don't feel so good'.
'What's wrong? I've got to get the dinner on, your dad will be home in a minute'.
'I feel a bit woozy'.
'Have a rest then'.
'I feel a bit faint'.
'Well sleep will help, can't you see I'm busy. Have a 15 minute rest, and then start your homework before your dad gives you what for.'
'I think I really need some help'.
'Will you give it a rest!'
As the mother finally turned round to look at her daughter, she collapsed on the floor.
'You should have said you weren't feeling well'.
There was blood pouring from her wrists.

Story telling from a picture: Lion and girl each side of the door

Its the beast at the door, it comes every night when I go to sleep. I see it. I go to the door and hold it shut. Don't know why I bother , because its a room separated by an adjoining door, there is another door the lion could get in by. I am scared. In the dream, my mother is sitting on the sofa. Why isn't she doing anything? Doesn't she know there is a lion in the house. I wake up sweating. Night after night. I try and change the dream, befriend the lion, befriend the mother. But the fear always grips me.