The other day I learned some exciting news. Beasts of No Nation—a novel written by my friend Uzo Iweala—is going to become a movie starring Idris Elba! The new development broke my 10-day streak of complete consumption by uncreative thoughts related to my day job. Finally, I was inspired!
Photo by VagueontheHow
What if, one day I not only completed my novel—but then it became a movie?! Shonda Rhimes could write the script and I could make the career of an up and coming actress when she is cast as my protagonist. But how would I do it? To answer that question, I conducted some research.
Below, my friends, are the steps to writing a novel that will one day become a movie:
Have A Plot (The More Enticing the Better)
This should be obvious yet somehow I still manage to come across plenty of books that do not have plots. I think it’s because we writers like to use the English language to articulate the complexities of humanity to make people think—no, to make them feel. That’s just not going to work in Hollywood.
For your novel to become a movie, something needs to happen and preferably in a three-act structure. A disaster, which leads to the attempt to resolve it, which leads to a bigger problem, then a climax, then a resolution. If you can add some action and make it a page turner, even better.
Describe Your Setting in Great Detail
This is important. You don’t want the movie people ruining the image of the beautiful fantasy world you created because you forgot to capture its vastness, its surprisingly sweet smell or how the castle connected to that secret room where the answers sit.
That is not to say that your novel should be overrun with descriptions (see section one on plot), but ask yourself, would a set designer be able to replicate your novel’s setting as you imagine it? Do your words allow the director to accurately capture the mood of the town?
There is a reason the Harry Potter movies did such a great job bringing Hogwarts to life—J.K. Rowling’s beloved series provided the vivid and precise detail that allowed them to do so.
Create Memorable Minor Characters
Minor characters are the best because you can—and probably should—make them so extreme. They are memorable yet carry very low expectations.
Add a character who is quirky, obsessive, or incredibly stupid/smart/clumsy/anal/hilarious/wise/[insert adjective here]. It doesn’t matter if your story is relatively serious because let’s face it—the movie people won’t care.
Don’t leave it to the screenwriter to turn your minor character into a stereotype—take control of their outrageousness! Do that, and no one will be able to resist translating him or her onto the big screen.
Don’t Write a Novel So That It Will Become a Movie
What is this post about really? Not to write a book just so that it will become a movie—that’s what screenplays are for!
Instead, I want you to view your novel through a different lens. Your most important task is to create a satisfying reading experience, which will make people read your novel, love it and demand for it to become a movie.
But sometimes we get caught up in our own indulgences as writers—we waste pages telling people what we’re thinking and feeling instead of creating scenes that move the story forward and make the reader think and feel. Or we’re so focused on what the characters are doing and saying we forget to ground the reader by sufficiently bringing them into the world we created. Other times we forget that even if our novel is serious—it can have some fun moments.
How can we get over these humps? By looking at our novels from a different perspective as if, say, it were to one day become a movie.
What are some of your favorite novels that have been or should be turned into movies?
PRACTICE
Take fifteen minutes to write a scene from your short story or novel, but imagine that it will be immediately translated to the screen. How does it compare to scenes you have written in the past?
Post your practice in the comments section. And if you post, be sure to give feedback on a few posts by other writers.
Have fun!
I’ve been reading tips, and such from the regular emails I get from you. I thought that I would like to just say ‘thank-you’. You share so much all the time… I enjoy it, but, I’ve never said… ‘thank-you’. I do, ‘now’.
Oh my gosh, what a sweet comment! Thank you!
Oh my gosh, what a sweet comment! Thank you!
I think the last one is the best. If you are writing your novels because you want them to become movie, you’d better prepare for disappointment. You should set goals that you have control over. Like writing a book that would make a good movie.
I also agree with setting. A detailed setting is another immersing element.
Achieving that balance of character, plot, and setting has one of the most profound positive effects on the story as I’ve seen.
You’re right–finding a way to balance character, plot and setting is key to good story telling no matter what the medium. Thanks for the comment!!
You’re right–finding a way to balance character, plot and setting is key to good story telling no matter what the medium. Thanks for the comment!!
I like this one! Let’s see if it helps…
~~~
The breath hissed out of me, face paling and limbs weakening. My knees trembled as an irrational terror gripped me at the sight of the world that was now mine.
A dry, barren landscape stretched before me, as blank, featureless, and dry as a piece of parchment. Rock outcroppings sprawled across the ground, rough and grey. Not a single plant grew.
But this was not what had me nearly keeling over, falling to my knees in horror. The sky that extended above and around me was not a fresh, crystalline blue, but rather a morbid crimson, as if it had been painted in blood. The colour varied in a spectrum of reds; in streaks of scarlet and swirls of cherry, shots of maroon entwined with spots of garnet.
I suppose it could have beautiful, but all I saw was blood. Blood raining from the sky. Blood pouring off of severed human limbs, bloody tears splattering onto the white blouse of a mourner. I felt my legs give and bile rose in my throat. Someone seemed to be gripping my shoulders and whispering into my ear, but I couldn’t seem to hear them.
No. I wouldn’t fall. I wouldn’t.
Painfully, I straightened, swallowing hard and wiping hastily at unspilled tears. I took a deep shuddering breath and stared at a small, jagged pebble that lay, half buried in the ground. They’d warned me. I remembered now. But I had never expected this.
“Jane?” I felt a gentle thumb pass over my cheek. “Are you okay?” The murmur was rough, but I knew it.
“I’m fine,” I snapped at Etiam. I was relieved that my voice didn’t waver. I certainly was not fine, but I would be. No one, not even my Changer, needed to know my discomfort. I stepped forwards, and his hands slid of my shoulders.
“Now let’s go.”
I turned my head just enough to see Etiam nod in my peripheral vision. Mind still swirling, limbs still weak, I started walking, straining to encompass a demeanour of normalcy. I hoped this shock and completely invalid fear would wear off by the time we reached the practice field. It wouldn’t do to be fighting like this.
Sand shifted beneath my feet, stones crunching and rolling. I focused on each sensation of my walk; the regular beat and impact of my feet against the ground, the sound of my ragged breathing and muffled footfalls, the smell of iron and sweat and sand hanging heavy in the air, dragging through my lungs.
Right. I could do this.
~~~
Huh. I don’t know if it did or not….
This gave me a very strong mental image of the setting! Especially how you compared to the sky to blood. Good job 🙂
Thanks!
I haven’t seen scenes you’ve written in the past, so I can’t tell if it helped or not–I hope it did!–but I think you definitely grounded the reader in the setting. I loved the detail that “not a single plant grew.” Keep writing! 🙂
WOW! You’re a great writer. Your writing style seems so smooth, and your description is exceptional. I would read your book.
Thanks a lot! 😀 That means a lot to me.
I haven’t seen scenes you’ve written in the past, so I can’t tell if it helped or not–I hope it did!–but I think you definitely grounded the reader in the setting. I loved the detail that “not a single plant grew.” Keep writing!
Thank you 🙂 I believe it did help. I do normally spend too much time on the emotions and thought process of my character, where as here I found a better balance between her reaction to what she saw, and the detail of that which she did.
Nice! Great to hear. 🙂
Very vivid. You have knack for detail. I felt like I was reading a masterpiece.
Thank you! 🙂 That means a lot to me.
I focused more on making a memorable character in this scene:
——
“I am Sebastiano D’angiolini. Your guardian angel.” Seb purposefully
strengthened his Italian accent as he whirled out his name. Then he threw back
his head and laughed at his own joke, his wiry black hair – what was left of it
– bouncing up and down.
Reid blinked and leaned against the wheel of the digger that was poised with a mouthful of dirt. The rest of Seb’s workers would be on the site and begin work at nine. “Remind me how I know you and why I agreed to this?” It had been fourteen years. He had forgotten how much energy his godfather had. Reid
was only average height, but he still felt like a giant compared to the little
Italian man.
How on earth had Seb become the owner of a construction crew?
Reid kicked at a clump of dirt with his boot. His clothes felt too nice to be working on a building site. But they didn’t sell duds that were already broken in. The ground was still muddy from the storm two nights ago. Out of the mud, the frame of the house rose, complete and ready for its walls. And here he was, absolutely void of any knowledge about building, being hired on.
But hey – he couldn’t be any more inexperienced than Seb when he had first started.
Seb grinned at him as if he were reading his thoughts. “I move to America to start a pizzeria. And I end up in construction.” His dark eyes twinkled as he shrugged. “The work is similar. Easy to transition for me.”
XD I like Seb! He’s an awesome character; I can tell already. I was also impressed by how you gave me such a clear mental image of the setting without many words to describe it. Nice and concise 🙂
I love fun characters like Seb too. I’m glad you got a clear mental image of the setting – it’s great to have feedback like that! Thanks!
I loved this!! My favorite part was your description of his “wiry black hair–what was left of it.” A very clear image formed in my mind after seeing that one. Can’t wait to read more! 🙂
I loved this!! My favorite part was your description of his “wiry black hair–what was left of it.” A very clear image formed in my mind after seeing that one. Can’t wait to read more!
Thank you, Monica. I think that’s my favorite part as well 🙂 Your post was a great reminder to focus on visualizing what we’re writing.
Nice characterization. I have an idea of where both characters are going just from this short passage.
Thanks!
I have to give a bit of background to my story. In it, the girl just got in a car accident. In the actual novel, there aren’t any senses in the afterlife, just emotion, so you can’t see anything. I’ve written a new excerpt for this practice to touch on the sense more so that you could actually put it on film. How does it compare? In my actual novel, I have to talk about how the senses don’t exist in this place, but here, I can actually use the senses to describe the way the scene looks. This is what I came up with:
In an instant, the blackness was gone, replaced by a bright,
almost blinding light, surrounding me from every which way. I was aware of my
surroundings, and I knew that I was still alive, but I couldn’t place where I
was.
My feet were firmly planted on the ground, a smooth white
floor with a cool bright mist rising from it as if someone had turned gravity
off and the mist simply floated throughout the world as it pleased.
My head spun from side to side, trying to make sense of the
odd place I just woke up in, but the bright white mist spread as far as the eye
could see as if I was in a bubble, separated from the rest of the world.
Realizing how unnatural this place seemed, I wondered if
this is what my subconscious looked like. I couldn’t feel any pain. Was I
paralyzed? Is this what a coma felt like? Was I dreaming?
As I hastily searched for an object that would break the uniformity
of the mist and call out as my beacon, I felt the hairs on the back of my neck
rise as if someone was watching me in my confusion. A voice, a small voice—was that
a voice?—was calling out to me.
“Welcome home.”
I spun around, and there stood an unfamiliar man with his
arms spread wide, preparing for a hug.
I backed away. “Wh-what’s going on?” I asked, utterly lost,
confused, and terrified.
He mirrored my expression, a glimmer of confusion crossing
his face. His brow furrowed and he seemed just as confused as I was.
As I was trying to sort out the confusion in his face, two
other voices—a man and a woman—came up behind me.
“Oh, dear,” the woman said.
The man looked at her with bewilderment in his eyes. As if
she knew what he was thinking, she answered the question that he never spoke.
“It’s rare, but it happens,” she assured him.
Still frightened, I repeated my question, but I directed it
at the new couple. “What’s going on?” I demanded.
The woman came near me, reaching out for my shoulder. She
had a sweet, trusting look about her that made my nerves ease up a bit. “Please,”
she gestured to the ground, “have a seat.”
I obeyed, and the new couple followed me down. The first man
still stood there with the puzzled look still pasted on his face.
“I don’t understand,” he told them in confusion. “Why doesn’t
she remember?”
The confusion continued to rise within my body. Remember? I
remember the car crash. Was I supposed to remember this place, too?
That’s a really interesting premise–no senses at all? I’m really excited to see how that turns out. Did you find this exercise helpful? Using senses to talk to the reader even though the character herself doesn’t have any?
That’s a really interesting premise–no senses at all? I’m really excited to see how that turns out. Did you find this exercise helpful? Using senses to talk to the reader even though the character herself doesn’t have any?
Yeah, it helps make sense of a nonsensical place. It’s actually very challenging writing this novel because of the abstractness I’ve chosen to use with it. The whole idea is that the afterlife is only emotional, so when they talk to each other, it’s via emotions, not words. Of course, however, you would have to actually use words in a movie.
I really liked your post, by the way. I’ll have to remember these tips for my next novel.
Thanks Alicia! Good luck with your novel!
I found it very interesting. The confusion everyone is feeling really draws me in.
Sophie looked nervously at the soldier next to her, a rifle casually held in his hands, and stepped forward to the desk.
“Names?” asked the gruff lieutenant behind the desk, giving them a cursory glance.
Sophie considered for a moment giving false names but couldn’t think of anything realistic on the spot. “Sophie and Dylan Pollack.”
The lieutenant scribbled in his register and threw two pieces of cards across the table without even looking up. “Those will get you your basic supplies.” He threw
another two pieces of card across the table attached to lanyards. “Wear those at all times, you won’t get far without them.” He pointed across at another soldier waiting at the end of the row of desks. “Follow him, he’ll show you to your tent.” He looked behind them. “Next!”
Sophie gave Dylan a scared look and slipped her hand into his as they walked over to the soldier the lieutenant had pointed to. He squeezed it in return and gave her a small comforting smile.
The unsmiling soldier indicated back over his shoulder. “Follow me.”
The rows of tents stretched away into the distance, grey with grime. The grass of the fields had been mashed into mud below from the thousands of feet of the lost, homeless and afraid. People scurried like beetles along the rows of the tents, looking small and fragile, hunched protectively over their few belongings. Filthy water pooled in indentations in the ground and flies buzzed around Sophie’s face. She could hear a baby crying in one of the tents she walked past, and a woman crying in another. Chain-link fences topped with barbed wire rose up around the compound and there were areas were people had put up photos
of missing loved ones. The pall of smoke that hung over the compound stung Sophie’s eyes.
Finally they reached an empty tent and the soldier stopped. “This is you. If you hear any sirens, you come back to your tent immediately. You can use those cards to get your supplies from that big tent in the back. Over there,” he pointed to the furthest corner of the compound, “that’s the mess tent. Breakfast is served from 6am, lunch from 12, dinner from 4.30. Everyone’s in their tents before dark. Any questions, go the mess tent and ask the staff there.” He left quickly before Sophie or Dylan could ask him anything.
Sophie and Dylan stepped into the gloom of their tent and looked around at the bare stretchers and grimy floor. It looked like someone used to have this tent before… Sophie didn’t want to think about it.
I like this and can completely picture it: “The grass of the fields had been mashed into mud below from the thousands of feet of the lost, homeless and afraid.” And the simple idea of flies buzzing around Sophie’s face adds a lot!
Thanks for your feedback!
This is really good. I could really visualize the scene. Thanks for sharing!
Thanks!
Sounds really inviting.
Your writing style is awesome. I can feel the character’s fear. I also feel distrusting of the marines. Since I think all of this was intended, you’ve really made the reader sympathize with these scare characters.
How far along are you on this novel? I can’t wait to read it all!
Not very far at all, but the more I can fit in my writing practice on this site, the more I can just pop it in! Haha.
Oh and all of that was most definitely intended, so thank you!
I also take that approach. This site is good for keeping you writing, even when you are don’t want to or are procrastinating. Lot of my best stuff, I wrote on here.
I would love to exchange critiques with you some time. My story actually has a character with a mental oddity. Then again, you might be able to guess a lot of the story as well!
Keep working on your zombies one, I love what I’ve read so far! Graduate to a whole new level, finish one of those manuscripts!
I would be 2/3 done if my ending would quit running away. I’m going to have to break my book in half! I’m currently estimating over 600 pages!
Ha! Guess I’ll get all my practice in on my first novel!
I was excited when Lord of the Rings and the Hobbit were turned into movies. The next series I would like to see on the big screen is Gotrek and Felix.
Yeah fantasy novels make good movies. Personally, I’m waiting to see the Cuckoo’s Calling on screen!
I’ve wondered if any movies of RA Salvatore’s Drizzt novels would come out. They’ve been around for several years.
Probably not, but I think the first few would make interesting fantasy movies.
I’m always worried that the movie will completely dishonor the book though.
They usually do. Books are always better because our imagination is always disappointed when projected on screen (we imagine awesome things).
Plus a book can take its time with the story while a movie demands action to satisfy the audience: more punching, more chopping, more explosions
But while some movies based on books can still be enjoyable, many still fail. Look at Eragon, a movie that they didn’t even bother to make the sequels for, even though the books were good. Percy Jackson was ok, and I never really liked those Harry Potter movies.
My process is all shot by shot. I highlight what a camera would focus on if my novel were a movie. This is from my WIP, Brass Bell, there are a smattering of other sections elsewhere on TWP.
—
The thudding of the heavy boots marched up the cement wall of my building and jacked into my spine. They can’t find me with this book. I snapped the journal shut and scanned the room for a hiding place. If they did follow the trail to my door, they would find only me, my bandaged foot and a bloody rock. I spotted the perfect hiding place. I went to the pantry, grabbed the box of soap flakes from the shelf and dropped the book inside. I gave the box a quick shake the cover the top of the book with soap and set it back onto the shelf next to the last box of porridge.
I went to the window and looked out in time to see a full squad of Boots thunder down the street and around the corner. I waited, stupefied at my luck. From one block down I heard a petrified wail rise up into unmoving dusk. The Boots had found a neck to crush and it wasn’t mine, not today.
[Many chapters later]
This time the Boots were coming for me. I checked the box of soap flakes to make sure the top of the book was fully covered and arranged it again next to my ration of porridge. I heard the steel door in the lobby clang open and strike the entry wall. The staccato of boots on the cement stairs rose in a crescendo as more and more swarmed into the building towards me. They were at the second floor landing, now the third, now the fifth, and onward and upward they came. Seventh floor landing, down my corridor, at my door, they came. The metal knob on my door turned and clicked, it was never locked, and the door swung open and tapped the wall gingerly. Three Boots entered my room while the rest lined up in the hallway, waiting for orders. Number One stepped forward and scanned the dim room until he spotted me huddled in the corner. I thought it would be best to huddle, everyone cowers at the sight and sound of the Boots. I would give them no reason to think me an aberration.
“Second” said Number One, “read this citizen its violation.”
“Violation 9904, acts of curiosity. It was observed speaking in the ration line. It was observed touching the north wall. It was observed staring at the sky.”
“The citizen will report its query” said Number one. My lip twitched. Acts of curiosity? If these offenses are all they know about, I will have to be careful of what I say.
“Speak” said Number One. Second and Third stepped toward me batons raised.
“I wanted lentils. I offered to trade my porridge ration for lentils.”
“The north wall” said Second.
“I lost my balance shaking a rock from my slipper. I steadied myself against the wall.”
“The sky” said Number One.
“Ash blew in my eye, I looked up to see if clothes were being shook out above me.”
Second and Third looked to Number One for orders.
“Trading violates the rules. Porridge has been assigned to this citizen. Third, ensure it only has porridge.”
Third went to the shelf and took down the porridge box. Inside there was only porridge. Third handed the box to Second. Third snatched the only other box from the shelf, the soap flakes. He opened it with a menacing grin and pulled out a handful.
“Soap flakes” Third said, disappointment evident in his voice. He put the box back on the shelf and then knocked it over with his baton. Grey flakes poured out of the box and onto the floor. My heart stopped and my eyes went wide. I could see the pages of the book popping out of the end of the box. If the Boots looked now, they would find it.
“Problem, citizen?” Number One said, advancing to stand over me.
“Porridge” I managed to say around my dry tongue.
“Second” Number One said, “give the citizen its ration.”
Number One strode out my door followed by Third carrying my ration of porridge. Second’s large shadow fell across me, blocking out the light from the hall. I focused on the boots, grey and dusty made of heavy material. The soles and the toe were both covered in dull steel. I watched that boot draw back and felt the air leave me as the boot crashed into my gut. I doubled over and the room exploded in sparks when Second’s baton cracked across my back and neck. I coughed sputtering blood into the ash and soap on the floor. Second placed his boot on my neck and crushed my face into the bloody grit. I lay still until the boot left my neck. I listened as it roared across the room and out my door. The thunder of boots on the stairs faded away and marched away into the permanent dusk. I rose to my knees and wiped the sudsy, gritty blood from my face onto my sleeve. I scooped up soap flakes from the floor and poured the whole mud coloured mess into the box.
It was time to leave this place.
I, admittedly, did not read the entire excerpt, so please excuse any misconceptions, but I do have a few recommendations.
1. In your very first sentence, the phrase “jacked into my spine” threw me off a tiny bit. I couldn’t help but imagine a jackhammer literally drilling into your MC’s spine 😉
2. There was also a bit of fluctuation between past/present tense.
3. “The door swung open and tapped the wall gingerly”–a door swings open with force, and a mere tentative tap would never encompass said force.
4. Try to avoid stating the obvious– I noticed that you often repeated yourself with simple phrases such as “I went”, “I heard”, or “I looked.”
5. And one last thing ( this is my personal opinion ) please vary your dialogue description. You can only say the word “said” so many times.
I hope this is all constructive–as a writer myself, I always appreciate helpful criticism, but I understand when it can occasionally come across as annoying. Overall, the majority of what I did read was compelling 🙂 I believe that if it were a fully edited short story or novel, I’d love it!
I loved this! Really great job.
One thing i read earlier today that might help you flesh this out even more: Never say an action. Show it:
I watched that boot draw back and felt the air leave me as the boot crashed into my gut = The air left me as the book crashed into my gut, I didn’t have time to react.
Keep up the good work!
Thank you! This is great advice. I wish someday
I could write a book which will be turned into a movie. I always picture my
stories like movies.
Hey..am trying to write the best Nov, my siblings loved my stories so I decided to write books..thanks for the tips.
“Percy Jackson & the Olympians: The Titan’s Curse” Percy Jackson, Annabeth.Chase, and Thalia Grace, go to West over Hall, after Grover Underwood finds two sibling half-bloods named Nico and Bianca di Angelo. They barely escape an attack by a manticore named “Dr. Thorn,” which some help from Artemis and her hunters, which include Zoe Nightshade. Through they survive the attack, Annabeth is capture by Dr. Thorn. Percy and his friends must look for Artemis before the winter solstice meeting of the Olympian council, when the goddess’s influence cloud change an important vote on the war with the Titans. Percy joins Thalia, Zoe, Bianca ID Angelo, and Grover on the dangerous quest. They also are searching for a rare monster that Artemis was trying to hunt down when she went missing; it so strong that it can obliterate Olympus. Percy is called by a hippocampus to rescue a marine cow-like creature trapped in the Long Island Sound, which Percy later learns is called the Ophiotaurus. Believing the monster to be female, he nicknames it “Bessie.” Percy is forced to trail slightly behind the rest of the travelers, catching up with them by flying Blackjack, a pegasus he liberated in The Sea of Monsters to Washington, D.C. Along the way, they stop to rest briefly on the ledge of the Chrysler building. Dionysus, director of Camp Half-Blood, appears, ensnaring them in grape vines(see front cover). He explains that he des like heroes since they use innocent mortals to get what they want, then hang them out to dry. His now immortal wife, Ariadne, was once one such mortal. He also spots Dr. Thorn there as well, and follows Dr. Thorn into a private meeting at National Museum of National History, which Percy infiltrates by using Annabeth’s invisibility baseball cap. As he watches, Dr. Thorn is severely berated by a man known only as “the General,” who use dinosaur teeth to grow skeleton warriors trained to track down and kill the hunters, but first accidentally growing skeletal kittens (one of which would re appear in The House of Hades). Percy races across to the National Air and Space Museum to warn the others, but just as soon as he arrives, the museum is attack by the Nemean Lion, which they manage to subdue and defeat. When they spot a helicopter following them as they flee, they enter the Washington Metro to throw it off their trail. Apollo finds them at a freight yard and supplies them with a way to Cloudcroft, New Mexico – hopping into cars on an autorack freight train, which delivers them to Clodcroft the next day. In Cloudcroft, Grover senses the presence of Pan, the Greek god of nature, and wild gift from him, the giant Erymanthian Boar, comes to carry them further on to Gila Claw, Arizona. It takes them to the junkyard of the gods, and Percy meets Ares and talks to Aphrodite, at which point it is hinted that Annabeth and Percy will most likely have a romantic future (Aphrodite frequently insists that Percy is deeply in love with Annabeth, despite Percy’s denials). Eventually, the group enters the junkyard, where Bianca tries to steal a statue for her younger brother. She accidentally awakens a prototype of Talos, a giant man of bronze, and dies after being inside the metal giant while it was shocked by telephone poles, but still successfully destroyed it. While being attacked by skeletal warriors at the Hoover Dam, Percy meets Rachel Elizabeth Dave, a mortal girl who can see through the Mist. She saves Percy by confusing the skeletons, allowing Percy and his friends to escape after another ambush by praying to Zeus to animate two angel statues on the terrace, which take them to the Embarcadero in San Francisco. Per Apollo’s advice, Percy seeks out Nereus, All-Knowing Old Man of the Sea. Percy forces him to reveal what a monster that could destroy Olympus is. It’s the Ophiotaurus. Here, they are ambushed by the manticore and some henchmen. The Ophiotaurus is the water behind Thalia, who Dr. Thorn almost coaxes into sacrificing the innocent creature. This world give her power to destroy the gods. The Titans tried to do this and succeeded in killing the creature, but Zeus sent an Eagle to snatch the entrails before they could be burnt. This seems in place with the much alluded-to Great Prophecy, which says that the next demigod child of Zeus, Poseidon, or Hades who reach the age of sixteen will either save the age of the gods or end it. Thalia will turn sixteen the next day. Percy, Zoe, and Grover pull her away, hide from Thorn and friends in a pavillion on the dock, and Iris-message Mr. D Dionysus reluctantly saves them by killing the manticore and turning his human mercenaries insane. They decide to send the Ophiotaurus to Olympus with Grover, Percy gives the Lion-Skin to his father as an offering for this. They go to seek the help of Annabeth’s father; who after a brief discussion, lends them his car. They travel to the Garden of Hesperides, where Zoe meets her sister and is bitten and poisoned by the dragon Ladon while trying to help Percy and Thalia pass. They continue to the Mountain of Despair on Mount Tamalpais where Mount Othrys, the Titan capital, is now located. From he top of the mountain where Atlas held up the sky, they see Artemis taking on her burden. Annabeth is held captive by Luke, and his been handcuffed and gagged. Realizing that the prophecy made by the Oracle involves him, Percy takes the burden – the Titan’s curse – from Artemis. In the ensuing fight, Annabeth’s father helps by flying his Sopwith Camel (a biplane) and shooting celestial bronze encased bullets, and Atlas (the General of the Titans) throws his daughter Zoe, slamming her against the rock. Artemis trick Atlas into taking his burden from Percy. During a battle between Thalia and Luke, Thalia kicks Luke and he falls the cliff. Percy assumes that Luke is dead. Later, Percy is told by Annabeth, and confirmed by Poseidon, that Luke has survived the fall. Zoe dies, because of the poisonous bite from Ladon and the impact of the rocks (caused by her father). Before she dies, she spread her last word of Thalia and Percy. Artemis turns Zoe into a constellation, in memorial to her. During the Winter Solstice meeting the Gods decide to take action against the Titans. Thalia is asked by Artemis and agrees to join the Hunt to become safer and prevent the prophecy from being fulfilled. The Gods debate on whether to kill Percy and his Ophiotaurus for their safely, with Athena voting for Percy’s death, but the votes are in favor of Percy living and it is agreed the Ophiotaurus will be kept the Olympus. In the end, Percy explains to Nico what happened to Bianca. Nico is enraged, blames Percy, and sends an ambush of skeleton warriors to the Underworld. He disappears, and Percy realizes Nico is a son of Hades. The only people he tells are Annabeth and Grover. They promise each other to hide this fact from everyone else, especially, the Titan’s army.
Thank you for providing this article!!
Im a young author but please give as much criticism as you want, im trying to make the book as good as I can possibly make it.
The smell of freshly deep fried chips made my mouth
water, I opened up the box and stole one. The savoury taste tingled my senses,
it was my treat for the month, I had been very healthy the past month. Being
healthy had cost me more money than being fatty, but then again i didn’t really
want to put on the extra kilos. I had the feeling that my stomach was waiting
for this the whole month. A street light
flicked close by, I was almost home now but it was getting to dark for my
liking. I walked quietly, not wanting to draw attention towards myself, I made
sure my phone was in hand so I could access it if I needed to, to call the
police, or to use as a weapon if needed. The dim light of my driveway gave me
comfort this home was my sanctuary, the only place I could relax and feel safe.
The small wooden trail led up to the front door, it creaked and groaned as I walked.
I followed the driveway with my eyes as it drifted off into the trees. The
motion sensor fairy lights lit up now, showing me the pathway that led to the
front door. I had installed them myself, they saved a lot of energy and money,
since they were solar powered only. I had learnt a lot about saving money the
past few years. I had been given my parents money after they died but I made
myself put it into a bank account that I couldn’t touch, I was more or less
living off child support payments week by week from the government. The plod of
my footsteps on the deck slightly unnerved me; I was used to the crunch of
snow. Tree branched dangled overhead, brushing my hair as I walked. When my
house came into full view, I couldn’t help the small smile that burst onto my
face, it greeted me with open arms, welcoming me home. From a distance you
could call it contemporary, with its large windows and slightly boxy shape, yet
once closer it was softer and more like a home than just a building or a piece
of architectural. It was more wrapped
in nature than in concreate. My heart felt soft, at peace. After a day that has
been so tiresome and nerve racking I finally felt peace. I searched for my keys
and breathed In relief when then they were still in my jeans pocket, where I had
left them, I’ll need to get another set made, just in case, I thought aimlessly to myself. The front porch light sprung to life as I drew closer.
I became more relaxed than before when I heard the familiar click of the unlocking door. As the door swung open my nerves sizzled, something wasn’t right. I took cautious steps forwards. While my brain told me to turn back my instincts told me to find what was making me on edge.
My body zapped with tension, goosebumps appeared on my skin from nervousness. I wasn’t the one to turn away from these sorts of things, I never have been, and I wasn’t
about to start now. I reached for the light switch and flicked it on, bracing
myself for anything. When I saw the room was empty my heart began to slow
again, giving me some time to breath, until I looked down that is.
For some reason the comment thing made my paragraphs all weird. 😛
Annoyingly this isn’t one of my edited chaptered, I sincerely apologise for that
my publisher likes what I wrote so do I have a chance
Because he was a medical doctor, he felt that he could manipulate a lot if women whom he slept with while being married.
While being married to his first wife, he impregnated the medical assistant whom he was dating and also, paying her rent monthly. After she realizes that he wasn’t going to divorce his wife and marry her, she began to have her boyfriend move in. Doc came over after work one day and saw that the boyfriend had practically moved in. He gave her the key back to her apartment and told her that she was now in her own. She then, led her live-in boyfriend believe that he was the father of her unborn child. The child was born with Autism. The MA continued to sleep with the doctor as well as her husband.
Well you thought you were ambitious…I have a mission to write my book, publish it, get it made into a film and star in it myself! I wrote it, right? Can’t I live my own fantasy? And ya know they could pay me way less because I’m not a Hollywood actor and stuff. Maybe I’m super conceited, but does anyone else think that would be amazing? Anyone…? I love to write but…ADVENTURRRRESSS!
This is a draft, so please excuse me if it’s rubbish xD
I crept silently through the branches, my intent clear as I gripped my dagger tight, my eyes locked on a group stood below me. All held weapons similar to my own, and although one of my own kind, I couldn’t take any chances. Not since Aevum attacked. I didn’t know who to trust anymore—my guard not included—and I didn’t know who Aevum had control over.
My guard—Cadash—stood in front of me, also staring down at the group. He was large in size with tattoos wrapped around his thick muscles, marking him as a guard. His black-painted armour kept him hidden in the dark. Only his eyes shone like lights.
He gestured with a nod of his head, but I shook my head, ignoring him when he narrowed his eyes.
The group below held six tall and well built Nathari—warriors. I needed to think it through.
Cadash gestured once more, first pointing to himself and then to the group, but again, I shook my head and pointed to myself, and then who I knew was the leader—a long, auburn haired male with twin-blade daggers.
When Cadash pulled out his sword, I clicked my tongue, drawing his attention to me, and smiled when the group below ceased their conversation abruptly.
“Did you hear that?” A man with short blonde hair and beard asked.
The others mumbled with agreement.
The leader narrowed his eyes and searched the area.
I held my finger up, motioning for my guard to stay put, knowing the big man wanted to pounce. I wanted these men alive. I watched the Nathari’s brows draw down and then he lifted his eyes to look directly at me. I jumped, dropping through the thick branches and crashing into him, putting my force into his shoulders to knock him to the ground. When we landed, he rolled me onto my back and locked my legs around his ankles, preventing me from flipping him over.
The colour of autumn stared down at me, a multi-colour of warm red, brown, orange and yellow.
All the Nathari were the same—tall, built like warriors with pale skin stretched across their muscles, and eyes that reflected their mood.
His handsome face gave away his curiosity and surprise.
“What so we have here—a Neandri trying to be a warrior? Did you believe you could take us all on, alone?”
I pressed my blade against his stomach and smiled. “No, not trying to be a warrior. I am a warrior. I’m also not alone,” I replied as my guards shadow fell upon us, although he kept his distance, knowing I was in no danger.
The Nathari glanced up and his brows shot up when he saw his men scattered across the ground, unconscious. “Not your average Neandri.” He met my eyes. “What are you?”
Not a Neandri, that was for sure. The Neandri were beautiful creatures, petite in size with alluring eyes usually in shades of pinks, lilacs and silver. Their skin was pale like the Nathari and their hair long and dark.
Real story in all its details . at that monent I escape with my patner and enter tge detention center in Australia . and my partner arrested by Saudi gov . its still in prison Saudi Arabia until now because our relationship rejected by Saudi Arabia and threaten to kill me .
i started working on my novel at the start of the year. after 14 months of shattered hope and depression. life didn’t turn out the way i planned it out. from secondary school i had already knew what i wanted to be and in life. it was not to be a writer. life was planned out all the way to retirement. but my epilepsy got the better of me and my dreams came crashing down. all my hard work down the drain. im not going to bore you much longer, all i ask is an opinion of what you think of my writing:
“You?” I stammer out.
“You know him?” Cain mutters, standing up with me and gazing warily at the
man.
“He’s the reason I came up here; he kept staring at me,” I whisper.
I look at him expecting some kind of reaction, but his face is impassive. After my
first shock I realise I’m feeling something different from the panic when we first saw all
the commotion. I’m sure I’m not going to die here and now, even though there is
something icy and terrible about him. A hot hand of fear clutches my stomach, but there
is also a rod of steel going up my spine. My inner voice watches with me, silent.
The man turns his head and barks at the stairs in a language that sounds like it
might be German. I hear more shouting, and another man comes up the stairs and stands
next to him, also expressionless.
The first man smiles. It’s almost worse than his impassivity.
so interesting to be like who we are but so imaginable to make our dreams to became true
that why ….just imagine ur dreams is came true …because u known that talent is in u but time is every thing…..so what happen i was slept then deeply then ..i thougth wat am dreaming is false but finally is became true….the story in my dream is my life…..to be who am i and to work hard…
I am writing a book called Sleepless Slumber. I am worried that it is not good enough to be published let alone made into a movie! How can I change it to get this for my story?