Wrapping up idea for a story

This blog will not have an introduction. It will begin now and will have never not existed.

So Jessie, I only read 10 pages of your book you're writing, and though I sometimes had a hard time
interpreting your hand writing, it made me nostalgia quite a while back to when I was in 5th grade, and how I was writing a "fantasy novel" of a lost boy in a troublesome world who wielded a spiked mace. I remember it very vaguely, however, I do remember that at the end of the year, it was some thirty pages, and by the time the year had ended, I had shuffled my folders into the school's recycling bin, all but my "creative writing" folder wherein I left my writings (redundant).

Now of course I was a fifth grader, and even now I see myself as a little dyslexic and unorganized despite how I am in comparison to others. Infact, I had to proofread the last sentence because I put a "k" in the word "now." Last year during study hall, Tiffany Spuck and I would pass notes, friendily communicating and learning about each other and making her laugh and making her scream and hit me, all depending on what I said. Not along ago I was digging out my collection of papers where I keep my money when I found a piece of paper we had talked once. I read it, and I instantly sympathized for Tiffany for having to interpret my indecipherable sentences, where I mixed up words, added letters to similarly sounding words, and even rearranged sentences. No wonder she thought I was a little special. That's how dyslexic I feel I am, even though I'm not diagnosed with dyslexia, and I gotta give it to those people who actually have it. I have it bad enough as it is.

But what does me being dyslexic have to do with anything? Well, odds were that I misplaced my thirty-some page story because I placed it in the wrong folder. And that wrong folder was discarded and put in a recycling bid that was collected by older kids and cut into small pieces and reharvested into new, clean pieces of paper. Though the molecules and chemicals that made up my story still exist, it's simply their disorganization that makes my old story unreadable. I cannot remember much about that story. I do remember that the boy woke up on a very foggy planet (How generic!). He talked with round creatures that were very intelligent. He had a mace, and for some reason he fell down a hole, and used his mace to dig into the side of the hole as he fell, so he wouldn't fall indefinitely (You see, this was a very wide hole that went down forever. I doubt the physics of this novel would emulate realistically in real life, but then again nothing I ever plan out in my head happens in real life the way I insinuated).

So Jessie, you convinced me to revive my writing inspiration by letting me read the beginning to your story. It is not the adventure of my fictional child in an innovatory environment, but instead it will be pieced with themes and thesis that show intelligent comparisons of human morality and the behavior of children. What the hell did I just say? Let me elaborate.

The story is going to be able a character, I am not sure of this person's sex or his/her name, who represents a role in a product producing company that uses the suffering of a kind of people as a resource for their products. I am not sure about the logistics of the storyline or motifs. I was thinking that the products could be a shoe product or make up or perfume. I was thinking that the company would be forcefully taking bone marrow in order to add specific colors to the perfume/shoe/make up, and that the taking of this bone marrow would be completely unnecessary for product reaction, but merely a phenotypical chroma in the product. But the company wants to sell! The company wants the product to be this specific color, at the expense of the minority group that is having their bone marrow transfusingly removed from their bodies, as their immune systems fail and their bodies become victim to disease.

Some motifs of the novel would be the color of the product. I want the reader to hate the color of the product. This color (what it is I am not sure, probably teal), would be emulated in this book as disgusting, as an epitome of all things evil. This won't be easy, but it'll be fun. I'll need a lot of spare time. But hey, I'm pretty bored of the video games I play and I'm on Thanksgiving break, so I'll keep you guys posted.

What's happening with me this week? Not much other than Thanksgiving. I have to go to my mother's mother's house and my father's mother's house for Thanksgiving dinners on Thursday and Friday. Those times will hopefully serve as times for me to write creatively. No guarantees. I also would love to see George and maybe have him over, and I'd like to spend time with Emily, if we can only set up a time and a place.

So yeah, have a crappy break, I hope your house burns down.

Jacob


(Also, if you see any grammatical/dyslexic mistakes, do tell me, I'd only love to fix them)