Hello and welcome to Writer’s Alliance!
This group is for anybody and everyone who loves to write, whether a beginner writer who writes for fun or a New York Times Bestselling author.
Here you can share your stories, make stories based on the prompts I make, make YOUR OWN prompts, ask for tips, collaborate with fellow writers, participate in writing contests, and give feedback. You can chat, but please keep on-topic with the group’s theme: writing.
For more info as well as the rules, please read the group info.
So, the group name is Writer's Alliance (duh) but if you're too lazy to type that out you can use the acronym WA instead. Just a side note.
I encourage you to check in this group every so often to get inspired! Reading prompts, stories, and tips always get me in the mood for writing! :D
Hopefully this group is a place which will inspire you too!
Final word: I must stress that you, as a responsible member of the Writer’s Alliance, keep everything PG-13 and appropriate, especially in your stories. Thanks!
Once again, welcome to the Writer’s Alliance.
I said I would plan one...since this group has stagnated a bit, I thought a little activity would help! Who's in? If we can get at least 4 other people apart from me we can start!
The Androis Caverns, a maze notorious for one reason: Whoever dared ventured in never came back out. Only fools dare go.
But now, trapped between two mobs who are both attempting to kill you, you have no choice but to enter.
Check out this amazing story by @n1njachikin based on Official Prompt #1:
Comment your story based on this prompt (Official Prompt #2) and get a chance to be featured as well!
In progress and scrapped
A Universe To Call Home: https://docs.google.com/document/d/15eSV-3nY6CZWBVVYw3kzWDGXDktE1yeMULLma-57SdU/edit?usp=sharing
Rereading My Mistakes: https://docs.google.com/document/d/1iTZJI325eVB1jDdoLiltnawYwlfnRP1j7PIzVgJ2hvk/edit?usp=sharing
I used to never be afraid of storms. In fact, I loved them. Everyone else in my family would cover their heads and try to fall asleep when it was stormy at night, but not me. I stayed up late, listening to all of the sounds and watching for the lightning. I would even talk to it, hoping that it would bend to my will. It was just that one night that ruined it for me. Just one storm was all that it took to take away something that I loved.
It started like any other storm, just off in the distance. A small light (that could only be lightning) appeared on my curtains 1…2…3…4…5…6…7… and thunder tumbled in the distance. Disappointing, I thought, Could have been a bit brighter and louder. Soon, rain tap, tap, tapped at my window and wind whistled past my house. Thunder went from a deep rumble to a loud clap, the rain went from a slow pitter-patter to a loud mess against my window, and the wind shrieked past my window. That was all completely normal. What wasn't normal was the lightning. As it got closer and closer, it also became longer and longer. It was as if someone was shining a flashlight up into my window, their fingers cramping up so they couldn't turn it off fast enough. Why would someone do that? I thought, Who would go through that much trouble for this?
I knew that lightning didn’t last as long as three seconds, so I had to investigate. My bed creaked as I slowly sat up and got out. As I stepped closer and closer to the window, another bolt of lightning lit up my room. Thunder cracked the silence and vibrated my entire house. I smiled. That was always my favorite part of the storm. Who was I kidding! I was just giving myself reasons to not check the window. If it was a person, then I would have someone to yell at. If it wasn't a person, then, well, I didn’t plan that far. I peeled the curtain back and peeked out into the darkness.
Nothing. I couldn’t see anything through the rain-streaked window besides the streetlamp across the street. The only way to find out was to go outside. No, Amber, I silently scolded myself, that is how people get killed in horror movies! Don’t go outside. On the other hand, this isn't a horror movie or a scary book, so why would anything bad happen? That was enough reason for me to go outside.
My door is the loudest in the house other than the doors leading outside. My door wasn't made correctly, so it has one uneven side. That always rubs against the door frame. Lucky for me, I also can’t really close the door all the way, so I was able to slip out without anyone noticing. It was just the other two doors in my way. Even if the doors themselves didn't wake up my family, then my dog certainly would. She always hears everything. She thought that she was a lion, so she would have barked her head off at the slightest sound of a door opening. At 3 AM. Everything was suspicious at that hour.
I slowly crept down the stairs from the third floor onto the second floor. There was a soft thud as my foot met each step. I slipped and fell to the bottom of the stairs with a loud thud. I froze, waiting for my parents to call out into the darkness, asking who it was. After five long seconds, I let out a breath that I didn't know I was holding. Maybe their snoring and noisemakers were louder than my fall. I slowly crawled across the floor to the front door. One of the floorboards was creaky, so I made good care to not go in that direction. I unlocked the door at a snail pace, making sure to not let it make a loud knocking sound as it usually does. The work was painstakingly slow, but the door opened with very little sound. My body was small, so I could fit into the small gap that I allowed the door to create.
As soon as I stepped outside, I was pelted with rain. I had no idea that it was raining that hard. Within seconds, I was soaked all the way through. The morning sun was beginning to rise over the hills in the east. At least I could see better soon as the sun always goes up and down pretty fast. All I could see was a vague outline of something in front of my house. Then, all of the sudden, the figure moved up the hill with unbelievable speed! If I wanted to know what it was, then I would have to chase it up the hill.
The run was long and hard. Hill runs were never my forte. When I got to the top, I gasped at the beauty of the sunrise. The pinks outlined the clouds, tinting the middle of them. I had to tear my eyes off of it so I could find the figure. There was nowhere for it to hide. I turned around and was dazzled by the sunrise. The pinks and oranges were frighteningly bright.
A clap of thunder caused me to jump, snapping me out of my reverie. The lightning flashed. It was as if it was moving in slow motion, its deathly claw outstretched towards the small row of houses. Time froze when it snatched the roof of a house that was not too far away. Oh, nononononononono!!! I thought. I dropped to the ground, staring in shock at the sunrise. It was as beautiful as ever, but now it wasn't just rain that soaked my face.
I hope that last line is as powerful as I think it is ;)
You wake up one day and rather than finding yourself in your cozy penthouse, you find yourself in a small room. You take a glance at date on your phone and find that somehow you've been transported 20 years back in time. The year is 2001. The day is September 11. You look outside your window. And you look down. You're inside the famous old World Trade Center, Tower 1. You glance at a clock hanging on the wall. You have 5 minutes before the bombers strike.
Write and comment a story based on this prompt below for a chance for you and your story to be featured in the next official prompt's discussion description! :D
So, this is a project I've been working on since early 2018. It was inspired by a reality tv show I watched when I was younger. I've enjoyed writing it immensely, and I would like to share it for your enjoyment. The first one (It's going to be a trilogy) is a little meh in terms of writing style, but you can see me mature as a writer all the way through the second one. Yes, there is a very minor self-insert in part of the 1st one. I was immature and didn't realize how s****y it makes your story. Please tell me what you think! Make sure to read the first one before the sequel!
Hunted 2: Through the Wasteland:
*Note that this story is quite long (20+ pages altogether)
*Note that this story contains guns and some gunfights, although violence is kept to a minimum, so please don't be a snowflake and complain in the comments
So, I don't have a ton of time right now to write in the challenges for this group, but if you guys copy and paste your work into this discussion, I'll go over it and edit the work. We'll see how it goes :D
This isn't quite related, but here's a school paper I wrote on Bush's address to Congress after the 9/11 attacks:
President Bush’s Speech to Congress
Shortly after the 9/11 attacks on the World Trade Centers, President George W. Bush delivered a thoughtful and provoking speech to Congress. The terrorist attacks had taken place only several weeks prior, and America was still rubbing its eyes in the wake of the tragic incident. The President in his speech sought not only to comfort the grieving, honor the dead, and extend gratitude to the countless who had laid down their lives in the line of humanitarian duty, but to assure those listening that the parties responsible for this act would be brought to justice.
“Whether we bring our enemies to justice, or justice to our enemies, justice will be done,” Bush proclaimed through cheering applause. He told the audience that although the terrorists had tried to wound the outer surface of Americanism, they could never reach the inside, the heart of the American people.
President Bush didn’t hesitate to acknowledge the now existing and very real threat of terrorism, and he stressed that this was now a prominent issue on the world platform. And he promised that for the American people, they would extirpate every form of terrorism. Other nations can decide, he maintained, how they will stand on this matter. But there is no middle ground: you either support terrorist activities or you’re against it altogether.
There was a general consistency in thought that pervaded his speech that day: We are Americans, we can do this, we will rise again. From his words, Bush seemed to place a lot of faith in American values, and now he looked for support from them in a time like this. Or maybe he was trying to bring people together in a common unity. Black or white, Republican or Democrat, Northern or Southern, we are all American. Whatever his methods, his goal was to raise a stricken people and give them hope, strength, and self-confidence. And this he did.
George W. Bush, Speech to Congress on September 20, 2001
Who knows if I’ll get this finished? I’ve only ever finished a novelette—we’ll see if I can tackle the monster of a novel. Below, I explain the basis of the plot.
In a quarantined hospice, three patients and a doctor find themselves trapped with a mysterious man who came to visit no one but them. With no escape and no way to get help without endangering the rest of the hospice, for the first time, survival becomes a priority in a building in which people wait to die.
Another thing I decided to include were the backstories of each character, which ultimately become crucial in the core plot. Throughout the novel, it switches between past and present. I have a few chapters done; I’ll post the book here once I have more. I think it would be a cool idea to compose a piece for each main character I have.
Here is the first chapter of one of my stories. The story is about a pianist, who has become a composer herself, living in the same area as the great composers of Bach, Mozart, Beethoven, etc.
Chapter 1: The Houseboat and Finding Beethoven
Anna woke up in the morning and did her usual morning walk by the river when she suddenly came across a houseboat. It wasn't there before. Like a spy, she looked inside. It looked abandoned. The floor was starting to fall apart and lots of mice were in the houseboat thriving.
She wanted to tell Beethoven, her long time friend about this abandoned houseboat. Her friendship with Beethoven started rocky and it is still a bit rocky, but not nearly as much as it was a couple years ago. She ran 5 miles to Beethoven’s home to tell him about the situation.
When she got there, she saw an almost black house and there was a piano inside. Beethoven must love his black. Anna knocked the door.
“Beethoven, are you home?”
Nobody answered. She tried again, this time knocking in the rhythm of the Fate motif.
“Hello? Beethoven? Are you in there?”
If Beethoven were home, he would have come let her in at this point. No answer.
“Darn it, Beethoven isn't home. Where could he be?”
Luckily, she knew where Beethoven was most often when he wasn’t home. He was most often at the Composers Bed and Breakfast. He loves the food there and he always has 1 room in reserve for himself. So, she ran over to the Composers Bed and Breakfast.
She asked the receptionist “Excuse me, but have you seen Beethoven recently? I want to tell him about the abandoned houseboat that I found. He isn’t home.”
Sally, the receptionist said “I’m sorry Anna, but I haven’t seen Beethoven. Why don’t you send him a letter?”
“I’ve tried that before, but he always rips my letters to shreds. I don’t know what’s up with that though.”
Sally said “Oh, well I don’t know why he does that either. Here’s a high speed train ticket to Mozart’s place. He is very observant. If Beethoven was nearby at some point, Mozart would know. Bye for now.”
Anna said, “Bye Sally” and ran to the high speed train. The conductor let her off at Mozart’s place. She could smell bread and cake. The cakes looked as pretty as a flower garden.
“Mozart, I didn’t know you ran a bakery. Say, have you seen Beethoven recently? I want to tell him about the abandoned houseboat that I found but he isn’t home. And he isn’t at the Composers Bed and Breakfast either.”
Mozart said “Yes I do run a bakery and yes I have seen Beethoven recently. He looked panicked and tore up a letter”
She snapped her fingers and said “I knew he had that habit. Where did he go?”
“Into the woods behind my place. You’ll know you are close to him when you are right by a river.”
“Okay, thanks Mozart.”
So, she ran into the woods and stopped when she got to the river. Anna looked around and there was Beethoven, composing in the quiet peace of the river. Suddenly, Beethoven saw her and walked towards her.
Anna said “Hey there Beethoven. I saw a houseboat by the river several miles away from here this morning. It looked abandoned. It also seemed to be fit for someone who plays the piano a lot and who has gotten into composing because I saw a lot of staff paper inside as well as a grand piano. I think I want that houseboat. That grand piano would be a great upgrade from the upright piano that I have in my current home.”
Beethoven said, “I saw that houseboat too, probably earlier in the morning than when you saw it. I do tend to wake up early so that I can devote more time to composition.”
“You have no idea how far I went to find you. I practically ran a marathon to get to you. By the way, why do you rip up my letters? It takes a lot of effort for me to write the letters I send to you.”
Beethoven said “I’m sorry, I should have looked at the name first. It’s just that I get so many letters telling me to compose more pieces or to write another symphony and I just can’t handle it. It's too much. I may still be composing, but I get way more composition requests than I can possibly manage because of my fame as composer, conductor, and pianist.”
“I understand Beethoven, I get stress related to premiering my pieces. I have gotten a letter from Bach of all people to premiere my piano sonatas and I am stressing over getting them to perfection.”
“Well, I would love to hear those sonatas. I even heard you dedicated one of them to me.”
“Yes I did Beethoven. So, I guess I get the abandoned houseboat?”
“Yes, it is all yours, but you are going to need help getting it in shape again. I can arrange for 4 composers to come over and help you.”
“Thanks Beethoven. And now that I know that you walk by that river with the houseboat, I won’t have to run several miles to see you.”
So, Beethoven arranged for Liszt to arrange the items as Anna wanted them, Bach to get the floor back in shape and get rid of the mice, Rachmaninoff to get rid of the cobwebs and Mozart to give the final polish to the floor and the piano. Anna would take her compositions from her original home, put her home up for sale, and move into the houseboat. Beethoven would be there whenever the composers or Anna needed help.
What do you think of this first chapter of my story?