Any Writers Out There?

[Disney Wrassler]

Well, with the re-opening of the Writers Guild Club on MiceChatGold, I was curious to know if there were any other writers here on MiceChat land that really loved to write?

I LOVE writing! I do freehand writing all the time and had some of my stuff published. My best accomplishment so far is when my university asked if they could publish one of my essay's in a textbook they required students to have a few semesters back.

Here is the most recent piece of freehand writing I did in a Disneyland themed writing challenge I issued in the Writers Guild on MiceChatGold, I wote it in about twenty minutes the other night, please do not copy it and claim it as your own:

Disneyland is full of Many things. From the tropical jungles of Asia, to the Swiss Alps, to the fantasy filled villages of Fantasyland. Disneyland is an environment in which our Pioneering fathers called home, the 20th century remind us of simpler times, and the dream of the future exists today.

But beyond all the street trollies and meandering horse drawn carriages of Main Street, and the indian villages of our countries past, lays a pathway to the French bayous of New Orleans Square. As you enter the French quarters, and the music from Jazzy quartets fill the air ever so slightly, you realize you are not in Disneyland anymore. Your mind is somewhere else. As you stroll down the pathway, enjoying the sights and sounds, you can't help but have a meager curiosity about the old, creepy building looming over your right shoulder.

"Who lives there?" You wonder. Your enhanced curiosity just can see to assert your attention anywhere else. The adventurer inside of you comes out.

As you enter the foyer of the empty building, a still, calm, cold air breathes life into the walls. The portraits of those who once inhabited the building stare at you as if, they have taken on a life of their own.

But just as you build up your courage, you realize, there are no doors and no way out! The doors somehow disappeared as you were to busy looking on at the portraits in awe.

Suddenly, the calm, but eerie, voice of a man echoes off the walls, warning you of the untimely demise of some of the houses former residents. But just when you think it's over, you look up in sheer fright to notice the skeletal remains of man who hung himself on the rafters.

FINALLY! You notice an exit and run for it, thinking it's your chance for escape. You pace down the hallway of horrors and finally apprach a Coffin black colored buggy and jump onto it as it climbs up the stairs. That's it! You done yourself in! The Ghost Host tricked you into believing this buggy was your way out. Now with the bar down around your lap, you are held captive as he exposes you to the black voodoo spells being spewed out of the decapitated of a beautiful gypsy woman once known as Madame Leota.

The ghosts have been called! The ghosts are now returning from their graves! The manifestation is about to occur! You've got yourself into this mess, mister! Now there's no way of turning back!

You close your eyes in sheer terror, not wanting to see what you encounter next. But that stupid adventurer conscience of yours still displays a fond curiousity! you have to see what's causing all the music, noise and laughter in the Victorian ballroom below! You finally muster up the courage too look, your eyes grow big, "What the heck is going on here?!?!?" you ask yourself. You have to rub your eyes again just to make sure they are not deceiving you. "Is my mind playing games on me?" you ask.

You come to the realization that ghosts do exist. They are there, dancing, laughing, and living right before your very eyes. It's as if they had never died! The Organist plays his music with a sorrowful tone as the ghostly ballroom dancers proceed to dance with no end in sight.

Phew! We managed to make it through the ballroom without disturbing the spirit world.

"Nothing can get worse than that," you think to yourself..

But don't let appearances fool you. This dusty old attic may look normal, it may contain pictures of headless spouses. "...But that's something you find in most attics," you reassure yourself, "Isn't it?"

Finally, to you relief, you see a nice, pretty, young, lady in her stained wedding dress smiling and pointing at you. "Finally! I am free!" you exclaim out loud while trying to exit the buggy. "Thank you miss, I am so happy to see you. You see the funniest thing happened, I deiced to explore this old house just like you did and got lost. So now I....Is that a knife?!?!" you shrieked.

"Ma'm, listen, I don't know who you are or why you are giving me that evil laugh. Just please help me find a way out of here!" The woman keeps giving you that deadly stare and that cold hard, evil smile just gets bigger as you get closer.

But just when you the kind, lovely, psycho woman was about to mount your head ona wall, your buggy takes a sharp turn out the window and lands in an old, forgotten cemetery full of joyful spirits and happy haunts who have just materialized after their decade long slumber. It's time for them to bust out their instruments and socialize with each other.

It is at this time you get another false perception that nothing will harm you simply because the ghost host lost track of you. So you decide to endulge yourself in the upbeat tunes of the singing haunts.


Don't be fooled, the creepy old party pooper shatters your peace and directs you down the haunted hallway. Just when you thought you were going to escape scotch free, he assigns an old street begger with a worn out beard that touches his toes and thick, bushy eyebrows, to stalk you all the way home.

Finally, the ghost host releases you.

You run out of the house screaming as the house owner turns off his microphone and laughs.

I hope you noticed and enjoyed all the subtle humor and please feel free to join the club because we a dying to get members back in there .

But in all seriousness, I am still very interested in knowing who else here on MiceChat loves to write, even if you don't have Gold.

[knittingknerd]

I just clicked over there. Problem I have is I like to huddle over my writing and since I don't "get" short stories if I post anything it's part of a huge mass.

Right now I'm playing with something quasi-based on the Bigfoot story awhile ago.

[krystledm]

i used to write ALOT i really don't very much anymore, but when the mood strikes me i do. I'm more in the lines of wanna be published if i could ever get my butt into gear. A friend and i cowrote a prety damn good story when i was in highschool, and someday i want to rewrite it and try to get it published....someday...

[Wotan]

Yes, I write, and even can say that I've been one of the fortunate few to have done it for a living, and survived that way (and better) for quite some time.

Sadly, though, having to write can take the joy out of writing...especially when you have two articles and two columns to come up with every month (as I had to for seven years at one point). It was easy--you just stared at the monitor until little beads of blood pop out all over you forehead.

After all, there's a reason that blinking dot on the screen is called a cursor, you know!

I have some things I need to write down at some point for fun, but at the moment, I'm editing a pair of incredibly messy manuscripts of someone else's; and it's very much akin to having to write the books myself.

[steamboatpete]

I am a published poet and songwriter, but never made any money out of either venture. I also published a poetry rag for about six years in the 1980s. I spent five years as a student newspaper writer and a stringer for the OC Register, L.A. Times and the Highlander. I have two novels that I started and never finished. Sadly, I now only write legal briefs and blog posts.

[MonstersGoBoo!]

I'm a poet, but I haven't written anything a long time. It's kind of hard to say this, but the inspiration isn't there anymore.