Amelia and the three little foxes

This is my first attempt to write a children's book so I would very much appreciate some constructive criticism, I have my own thoughts on what's good and bad about the story and the style in which it's written, but I need help pointing these points, and others, out, otherwise I will never become a good writer.
   This is just the story plain and simple, the finished book would be illustrated, very illustrated, I'm seeing brightly drawn paintings and cute little characters. The words in bold are words which would have a glossary on the bottom of the page because I think it's important that children get to expand their vocabularies at an early age. I'm sure there are more things to point out but I'll leave that to you, and if anyone knows a great illustrator who'd be interested in this story I'd like to talk to them.

Amelia and the three little foxes

It’s Amelia’s birthday, today she is ten years old and she is about to have a birthday party, and it’s going to be a fancy dress party. Every year on her birthday since she turned six she has had the same party, where she and her friends get dressed up as their favourite storybook characters and they eat a lot of sweets and a lot of birthday cake and they play together all day long.

   When Amelia was four years old her mother read her a bedtime story about three very special little foxes; there was Sally who was the oldest and who was super smart and was always seen reading a book, and Henry who was super fast and could make 300 pancakes in three minutes and then there was George who was the youngest and smallest of the three, and just like every little boy George was very special because George could lift very heavy things, even big rocks that were ten times his size!

    The three little foxes lived in a tiny little foxhole under a very big tree. Their little house only had two tiny rooms; one bedroom where they all slept together (in a tiny little bed) and an even smaller kitchen where only one of them could cook at a time. Even with all its flaws the house was very special, because it had a very large backyard where they spent most of their time playing and frolicking, and even more lucky was that the house was placed deep in the heart of the forest where the trees grow really thick; with narrow branches and big leafs so every time it rained the three little foxes’ house never got wet and they could be out in their big backyard, with the big garden, all day just watching the rain pour all around them, so they played outside, they ate outside  and they even slept outside, but only when it was warm enough. George slept in a swing bed that he had tied up between two branches, Sally slept in a tree house that she had turned into a laboratory, and Henry would sleep next to the scarecrow that he built out of straws and old clothes. The three little foxes only slept inside when it was really, really cold, and then they huddled up together really tight and kept warm under a great big blanket.

   Every night, for several years, Amelia’s mother read one or two stories about the three little foxes that lived under the great big tree, and one of the stories that Amelia loved the most was the time when George saved a family of hedgehogs. It was a dark and stormy night and the three little foxes were huddled up in their bed under the big blanket listening to the storm outside, Henry and George got a bit scared by the howling wind so Sally stayed up all night making up stories for them so they would forget about the storm. On the morning after their backyard was covered by twigs and leaves and branches and a great many trees had fallen in the forest. Unfortunately one really big one had fallen down in front of a family of hedgehogs’ house, and it was now blocking their door; so they were trapped inside their own house! Luckily the big brown bear Mr. Crowley, who is the caretaker of the forest, was out walking and checking on all the damage the storm had caused. As soon as Mr. Crowley saw the fallen tree in front of the hedgehogs’ door he tried to push it out of the way, but no matter how much he pushed and pushed he could not move the tree, not even an inch! So after the third try he decided to go over to the three little foxes’ house and he told George what had happened and as soon as George heard about it he ran over to the hedgehogs’ house as fast as he could, and just as easy as one, two, three George had lifted the tree and set the hedgehogs free! The fallen tree was chopped up and used as firewood, and it was divided equally between the three little foxes, the hedgehogs and the great Mr. Crowley.

   For her birthday this year Amelia got dressed up as Sally, the very clever little fox that was always seen reading a book or writing some new ideas in the pad that she always carried with her. Sally was indeed a very clever little fox; she spent a lot of time in the tree house-laboratory inventing new and fabulous things. She made a pair of shoes for Henry that never wears out after he had worn out three pairs in just one day! She also created a new kind of paint, and crayons, which never dry out and lasts forever, so now Henry and George spend most days drawing and painting everywhere, especially on the walls and the floor and on each other! So therefore Sally decided to invent a soap that cleans everything really easy, especially little boys. Not every idea or invention turns out as good though, in fact only a few out of every 100 ideas she has ends up being a success, but that does not discourage her and she sees every failed project as something good, as something she learned from and something she then can avoid the next time, like the time when she was working on an electric tail warmer. It was a particularly cold day and she accidentally set fire to George’s tail! It got a little hotter than George had wanted it, but she learned from her mistake, and George learned that the kitchen sink is a good place to extinguish a fire on your tail!

   The birthday party has now started and Amelia and her friends are running around playing many different games at once, there are charades and hide-and-go-seek and follow-the-leader and Simon says and there are several treasure hunts going on, some of the kids are simply trying to see who can run the fastest, just like Henry the super fast little fox. Now Henry was more than just fast on his feet, he loved working in his garden and he loved to cook and bake and do laundry and many other domestic things. Watching Henry work in his garden is something very special; Henry has very keen eyes you see, and he can spot a bit of weed from far, far away and before you can even see him move he’s ripped up the nasty weed and thrown it on the compost, and every autumn when all his vegetables are ready for the harvest he puts a big, big basket by the door to the house and he runs out as fast as he can and picks up all the veggies and throws them over his shoulder and into the basket. But you have to be careful when Henry does the harvest because he’s so fast that the only thing you can see are the veggies coming down from the sky like rain drops, very big and very heavy rain drops.

   This year Amelia had decided that she wanted pancakes for her birthday, lots and lots of golden-brown pancakes, just like the three little foxes had for one of their parties. When the three little foxes had their pancake party they had invited everyone they knew in the forest, so it was going to be a massive party with hundreds of animals, so they had to make hundreds and hundreds and hundreds of pancakes. Luckily they had Henry, and with Amelia’s latest invention; a frying pan that cooks pancakes in nanoseconds, making the pancakes was not going to take long at all! All they needed were 300 eggs, 15 liters of flour, 50 liters of milk and a huge pile of butter. Sally made the plan that if Henry was in the kitchen and threw the pancakes out the window at a 45 degree angle they should land on the table outside forming a tower of pancakes, and all George had to do was to move the tower of pancakes before it got too high and make room for the next tower. It all seamed easy enough, and the first couple of towers formed nicely and very, very quickly However, the more pancakes Henry made the faster he seamed to go, and after just a minute or two the pancakes were flying out so fast that Geroge couldn’t catch them anymore, and as soon as they started flying out faster they just seamed to go everywhere! It really was quite a sight; there were pancakes everywhere; pancakes in big piles, pancakes in Henry’s garden, pancakes in George’s swing, pancakes on the chairs, and under the chairs, and all over the table! There were so many pancakes in front of the tree house that you could not see the door to Sally’s laboratory anymore, and in the middle of all these pancakes; there was George running around picking them up and throwing them on what he thought was a big pile of pancakes, but it wasn’t a pile of pancakes at all, it was Sally! She had started the pile, but then she got hit with a couple of really fast flying ones and fell into it, and that was when George started throwing more on top of her.

   Once Henry had used up all the batter he ran outside to find the entire backyard covered in pancakes, and George was running around a big pile, but Sally seamed to have disappeared and the tree with her laboratory looked golden brown from all the pancakes. Henry thought it looked really beautiful, and delicious of course. There were pancakes on every branch, just like Christmas ornaments, the pancakes glowed in the sun so the tree really looked golden!  By the time George and Henry finally found Sally under all the pancakes the first guests had already arrived so there was no time to clean up the backyard, instead they started playing “find the pancake” which was easy at first but as soon as they had eaten all the ones on the ground they had to get them down from the tree! And we can’t be sure but there are probably still a few pancakes left up that tree!

    The story of the three little foxes and the pancake tree was always Amelia’s favorite, ever since she heard it for the first time, and she has dreamed of that pancake tree more times than she could remember, and sometimes she would wake up still smelling the delicious sent of pancakes, and that is why she always want to have pancakes on her birthday, and this birthday is no different than the others so Amelia’s mother has made enough pancakes to feed all the guests at the party, and since she is not as quick as Henry, it took her all morning and she has still not finished! So Amelia and her friends are eating the pancakes as they are being made, and they are having ice cream and maple syrup and strawberries and sugar and lemon and jam and everything else they could have wanted with their pancakes!

   Some of Amelia’s friends finish their pancakes early, so they hurry down to the playground in the middle of the block of flats where Amelia lives. Her kitchen window faces the playground and she can hear her friends playing down there, she walks over to the window and she can see even more kids playing down there now, and when they see Amelia they want her to come down and play, and just as she is about to run down to the playground she sees the stacks of pancakes that her mother made and that her friends never finished, and that’s when she got the idea of dropping the pancakes out the window to feed the kids on the playground! She has to drop them one by one so that the kids can catch them before they hit the ground, but it is a lot harder to drop a pancake from a three-story building, and manage to get someone to catch it, than you think! Some of them land in the sandbox, and some on the swings, and some are caught by the tree just under her window; so only about half the pancakes actually ends up in someone’s hand. As soon as Amelia runs out of pancakes she hurries down the stairs in her Sally costume, and as she run out on the playground she is greeted by kids eating pancakes. But what really catches her eyes is the tree with all the pancakes in it! There are pancakes hanging on the branches and they are hanging from twigs, and as the sun shines through the leaves it makes the pancakes glow in golden brown she finally sees it! It’s the pancake tree from her dreams, it’s the tree from the story with the three little foxes, and it is real! And it is just as beautiful as Henry had said it was! And that is the end of the story of Amelia and the three little foxes, and how she found her pancake tree.

The scent of a woman

I was told the other day that the best way for me to get some freelance or ghost writing work is to actually show some of the stuff that I've written here on the blog. The problem is I don't know how to get a "copyright" or rather THE copyrights to my own stuff, do I have to apply for one? Will it cost money? or can I just claim the copyrights? I shall look into it, but until I do I'll only post short mini stories here on the blog. This first one was written after a friend asked me if I could write something from just a single word, and the word I got which inspired this story was "meeting" or rather "rendezvous".


"My friend arrives with the next one". It’s raining; it’s cold. I have to hold the coat tight to keep warm. I’ve got my hat pulled down low; I have to look up to be able see where I'm going, but I never do, the rain would get into my eyes, I can see my feet; that’s enough. Another train storms by as I’m getting closer to the station. 
   I hurry up the stairs and onto the platform, only one of the light bulbs is working, the platform is gloomy and dusk. I'm leaning against a wall in the shade where the light can’t reach. My friend should arrive soon. I light a cigarette, the smoke is thick and sweet, I enjoy every drag. I’m alone. In the distant I see the lights from the train, it’s coming closer, slowly, I hear the whistle. It seems like forever but the train slows down as it’s pulling into the platform. The smoke from its chimney is almost black. 
   The conductor steps off the train, no one is getting on. The porter is carrying  a large suitcase, he puts it down on the platform and hurries back onto the train. I catch myself thinking that it's too feminine to belong to my friend. I toss the butt of my cigarette, its embers scatters as it hits the ground, and a woman steps off the train as the porter is getting back on. 
   The rain has stopped. The woman's red dress is long; it covers her high heels, the dress swaying from side to side as she moves her feet. She has a white fur over her solders; a feather in her hat; and black leather gloves. I am mesmerised. My friend never enters my mind again. The woman looks around, she’s alone. As she walks with firm steps toward me she picks up a cigarette; she squeezes it between her brightly red painted lips. She never looks into my eyes, never says a word, she stares at the ground while I’m lighting her cigarette. I inhale the thick smoke mixed with her perfume, that scent; I know that scent. 
   She looks up, she blows some smoke into my eyes, but I never look away, never even blink, her eyes have finally caught mine; they are green and as covered by glass, they are deep and they look like they are filled with history; a dark history. Without asking I already know;  she’s left her life behind, she’s left some guy who treated her like dirt, you can tell that she has left a torn but wealthy life behind.
   Her eyes cries out for help. I know she's trouble, I know that someone will come after me, I know that if I let her come with me I will not survive, I know it and I don't care. I grab her pale-white chin softly and I move her head slightly to the side and as we are getting closer I can feel her warm breath on my lips, there's a spark of electricity, we seal our fates it with a kiss.

Poker, beer and a hangover

After finishing my short story for Amazon Kindle last night I was invited to a game of poker, luckily the game took place in the flat which I'm currently staying in, and therefore I did not need to get out of my dressing gown; big win. The game was held up a bit on the count that we were waiting for all the players to arrive, which worked out great; it meant that we could drink our weights in beer, which I believe was the reason why the game was over in just a little over two hours (once it finally started). The game and the rest of the evening continued with great banter and lots of laughs, not to mention my victorious poker skills which earned me £20; big win again. However, like most beer filled evenings they come with a not-so-fun-day-after, but thanks to my poker winnings I have just had a very nutritious McDonald's meal and am now watching my beautiful landlady playing Mario N64.  All in all it's a good day after a great and somewhat productive night!

Working, writing and music listening

Getting ready to finish the third and final part of the latest short story for Amazon Kindle, then there's just some editing to do, which is the most boring thing in the world, but it feels good, at least I'm getting some stuff out there and even though I don't particularly like everything I write, at least I'm hoping to get paid.

Also; Song of the day! You can't be sad and hear this song! It perks you right up! Happy Wednesday everyone!

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=3uPKeijXurs

Walking in the footsteps of Hunter S. Thompson

Most people have probably heard of Hunter S. Thompson's "Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas," and I bet that each and everyone who have seen/read it have had a strong opinion on either the film/novel or its creator. I also believe that no matter what your opinion might be of Hunter S. Thompson; at least we can agree that he and his works are captivating and that they can create interesting discussions. Note how I refer to him in present tense even though he has sadly passed, I do so because I believe that his work is always current and I think that it will continue that way for a long time, which is a true mark of a great writer.
   "Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas" might be his most famous novel. However, "The Rum Diary" has recently been seen in cinemas, I did not see it myself but I did read the novel, which was actually written in the 60's long before "Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas," and even though they are quite different pieces of works they share that very special style of the author, and it is that style of writing I am currently interested in.
   I believe it's commonly known that each and every author/journalist/writer have their own unique style, and as an aspiring writer myself  I am hoping to find my own unique style of writing, and I can't think of a better way to do so than by reading the works of several different authors each with their own sense of style. Therefore, I went out the other day and bought a copy of Hunter S. Thompson's "Fear and loathing on the campaign trail '72" where Thompson tells the story of when he followed George McGovern and Richard Nixon's campaigns for the presidency of the United States from New Hampshire to Florida. I've not just started the read but by the sound of it; it should prove to be a quite enjoyable and informative read; in any case my quest to become a better writer goes on.

In my opinion: Favourite VS Good or Bad

When I was updating my profile I was asked to list my favourite films, a rather harmless question one might think, but in my group(s) of friends it's anything but. It starts out harmless enough with people thinking of the films they really like, but it quickly turns into a heated discussion over the films that are "bad" and the films that are "good," with people on either side discussing the styles and depths of the films, and it usually ends up somewhere much more philosophical; where people's opinions goes up ahead "expert opinions" and/or the majority's vote.
   The problem is clear: "Can you decide on what's good or bad when that is based on people's opinions?"I think you can, at least to a degree, but I think you have to brake it down into smaller pieces such as sound editing, cinematography, lighting and consumes. Basically if the sound is poor or the light is off or the costumes are wrong for that time or place; the quality is bad. However, when you talk about acting, scriptwriting or scoring you cannot simply say that something is "bad" without adding; "in my opinion," because those things are much more subjective; they have to do with styles and genres, but of course there are exceptions where a vast majority might agree wether the actor can act or the script is readable.
   In my opinion you cannot simply declare wether a film is good or bad without going into specifics simply because there are films which technically could be "bad" but you might love them in spite of that, or maybe even because of it; I believe that each and everyone of us have a favorite "B-movie," which brings us back to the topic of favorite films and the difficulty on agreeing which ones they are. First of all the heated discussions between my friends usually arrive because we try and decide on the "best" films when the question of favourites is a very different one, and even that is technically impossible to answer since what we like or are in the mood for change constantly. What is good though is the discussion in itself; it can open our eyes to new perspectives and hopefully make us appreciate something even though we don't like it.
    Naturally listing your favourite films is not the most important decision you ever have to make, even though I make it sound like it is. I wrote this post just to make us think before we decide for the entire population that something is rubbish. Simply state that it's your opinion, and then you can go on and say whatever you want and no one can disagree with you! Which brings me to the main purpose of this post; to introduce my very own critical review of films and plays that I've seen, and books and scrips that I've read, and by no coincidence it will be called: "In my opinion."

A new chapter

First blog entry, let's make it profound shall we? I have just declared myself as a freelance writer after all... With the only claim to fame that I've had a couple of short stories published and another three performed on stage, with no real education in writing or knowledge of the "classics." Lets just skip the profound part and go into what this blog will be about.
    So, why do people start blogs? Or better yet; why does someone like me (who knows nothing about blogging) start a blog? I used to think that blogging was only for attention whores with too much time on their hands, but after some investigation and careful consideration I've come to the conclusion that they can be quite useful for someone like me (who is temporary unemployed and trying to get any work that they can) when it comes to creating a name for themselves. But this blog will be much more than a CV; I am hoping to use it for inspiration, and I am trusting that it will force me to actively seek jobs and get me to work hard on all my projects and cure me of my procrastination.
   I will regularly give updates on the films and plays I've watched, the novels and scripts I've read and even the music I've listened to, as well as giving my opinion on other parts of life outside the "arts." I'm hoping that this blog will inspire other people to actively seek jobs within the theatre and film industry, people who are amateurs and who are in the same situation as I am, and hopefully we will inspire each other. To be honest this blog will most likely only function as my everyday diary, keeping me on track with everything I need to do, mixed  up with some anecdotes and other "fun" trivia.
   In the end I suppose I'm going to go against all the advice I've gotten and not focus on one target audience but instead write for all kinds of people, and hopefully it will be a little bit entertaining as well, which is why I should stop this "intro" post now and promise that this will be the first and last blog entry of this nature. We'll see how this goes...