1. Try to have some kind of emotional tune in your writing. It was make the reader want to read more.

2. Don't commit libel.

3. Don't plagerize. On any piece of writing. The reader will only be impressed by the ORIGINAL writer's work.

4. Music can help you think (at least for me :P )

5. Help other writers out. They depend on you to improve their writing.

6. Your writing could very well affect others lives

               More to come soon. (Hoped I help you out :D )

The Manor of Apt Hope (Based on one of my True Stories from the past) (Part one)

     Ever since, well, ever, I was considered to the bottom of the hierarchy in my home town. Here, you weren't refer to much else than a hopeless loser, or just no one. That was a bit of my personality.

    Rather self malevolently, I paced the dewed pavement, my feet sore from the grueling task of walking this long. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw a pack of fourth and first graders talking, playing, enjoying existence. I faintly revealed a smile, and quickly walked past them, clutching my backpack.

Seventh graders didn't really talk to people younger than them.

 My files were conspicuously ajar, my eyes now on a book- my book. The aforementioned difficultly with walking was ongoing and ominous, let alone reading a book. I let myself fall on the dewed grass. I think I fell asleep, for about ten minutes, when someone awoke me. It was a tan first grader.

"Excuse me?"

I jerked back in astonishment, and discovered that he held my book. I quickly snatched it from his hands.

"What did you do to my book? Did you tear it or something? I bet you did!" I checked all the pages. Not one was defaced in any way. When I looked up, the boy was almost in tears.

Suddenly, I felt guilty. I clutched his shoulder.

"It's okay. You didn't do anything. I thought you did."

"Why?"

I stared at him. "Because I wrote it. Say....what were you doing with my book?"

"Looking at it."

"You mean reading it?"

"I don't know how."

"To read?"

"Yes. I was trying to."

"Well, you idiot, you won't learn that way..." I stopped. I realized that that comment wasn't going to help him a bit. He was about to cry again.

"I'll teach you how to read."

"Huh?" He wiped his arm over his face. "I want to know how to read."

"Do you?"

"Yes."

"I'll tell my daddy!" He said cheerfully. He ran inside his house, practically bellowing. I realized something else.

I was crying too.

I'm better with fiction, just so you know:

The Ground on Which we Stand Has a Voice.

I heard the malevolent, perplexing wails just this morning. It was more like a message, but as we human beings are, we can't seem to understand.

I may understand.

I hear this condescending, malicious, but overall adversarial voice. This is what it says:

"You fools have no empathy for me. I endure your powerful footsteps: 6 billions pairs, and yet you still walk me. I have hold you here for millions of years and yet you walk me. You stole my resources: air, water, food, space. yet you walk me.  You cry your pitiful crys over me. You liter me, you pollute me, you Walk On ME."

I felt empathy for it.

I feel horrible that even I am a sinner. I see that. I see we are the 36 billion footsteps.

I know.

I also know I don't cause your pain. I don't waste your resources. I don't pollute, liter, or abuse you.

Please, zealously open all your hearts. The million years of torture. I would like that to end.

Please.

Prologue (part 1): This World Needs A Savior

      This is present day with all the intricacy of a sledgehammer. It was all very obvious. war was abrupt everywhere- except in the most obvious place- in the minds filled with the begging anticipation of hope. Here, war was as common as rumored. It is to be a place of common class and love ,and until the birth of the Neoswordmaster, there was no pandemonium whatsoever. When the Neoswordmaster arose, it didn't take long for the folk to realize The Neoswordmaster was destined to fight in the upcoming threat.

                   The courts master paced along the stone cold floor on which he stood, waiting for his messenger. This world needs a savior he thought repeatedly, and, he heard a call behind him:

        "Courts Master Courts Master!" he yelled as he sped at him top speed, clutching a parchment letter. The courts master turned to him, and, as the quick-minded person he was, easily eluded him.

         "Stop!"

      The messenger stopped to a screeching halt, his eyes bulged just slightly out od astonishment. The courts master turned to him once again, and put his hands over his elbows as if to say: "I'm busy, what do you need?" The messenger revealed a quick shiver.

"C-Courts M-m-Master, we have a th-threat letter from our e-enemy Xal." he stammered.

"XAL?!" The Courts Master screamed "WHY DIDN'T YOU SAY SO!" He snatched te letter out of his hand:

       I am afraid if you are resistant to surrendering, then my slave will do it for you. I am a man of my word, you fool, and it is best you give up now. We have outnumbered your king's pitiful solders, and The Neoswordmaster is of no use to you. Admit defeat now, or let your ruler fall under his castle ceiling in cold death.

        The obvious thing for the courts master to do is fret frantically, but, as a real man, remained calm.

            "Come here." The courts master beckoned. The messenger, as shy as he was, scotched toward him nervously.

             "May you find King Buck Markus?"

            "F-find him s-sir?"

            "Yes, find him."

               "He's um... I'll find him." He ran out of the speed he came in.

           "Don't forget about the Swordmaster!" The Courts master called. He watched him run through the palace walls.

Yeah, but they make out of the blue book topics

And they comment on book movies (and upcoming book movies)

The High Power of Lucky

Thhe Tale of Despereaux

Everthing Harry Potter

????? :? :? I read only two of these and the protesters are delusional. I don't know about Lucky....

My fav books are............

Holes

Tale of Despereaux

Fahrenheit 451

Inkheart

The Analects :D