Hey everyone!
The site has not been abandoned. Amy and I have both been so very busy lately with work and life in general. We still want your stories any way you feel like sending them. We are in the process of finishing up a couple and posting them in the next little while, so please keep checking back and absolutely keep writing stories to send in.
Really, I must say that the project cannot work without you sending in your stories. Don’t think to yourself that you’re not a good writer or that your story won’t nearly be as good as someone else’s. This is for fun and no one will think your story is stupid… so let loose and let us see what you’ve written!
And in case you missed the last couple of posts, we have enabled email submissions! Yay! Basically you can still send your story through good old snail mail OR you have the option of sending it through email to us at submit@neverendingstoryproject.com
Can’t wait to read your stories!
Thursday, July 15, 2010
Monday, June 21, 2010
Important Announcement
Hello everyone!
My name is Amy (but not really cause it's actually Steph...) and I'm writing this lovely update to let you all know about an awesome development in the NeS Project. That's right! An IMPORTANT development that will revolutionize the site!
Are you excited yet? You SHOULD be! We have decided to let all of you lovely writers submit your stories via email as well as snail mail! You can now send us your stories to submit@neverendingstoryproject.com and we will read, re-send and be merry!
Even more excited? You should be! Almost as excited as I am to be sort of, not really pretending to be Amy in this post. La la la I'm Amy.
That's basically it. Email us your stories. Like right now. You have no valid excuse anymore for not writing. We want to read. REEEEEAAAD! So send away!
My name is Amy (but not really cause it's actually Steph...) and I'm writing this lovely update to let you all know about an awesome development in the NeS Project. That's right! An IMPORTANT development that will revolutionize the site!
Are you excited yet? You SHOULD be! We have decided to let all of you lovely writers submit your stories via email as well as snail mail! You can now send us your stories to submit@neverendingstoryproject.com and we will read, re-send and be merry!
Even more excited? You should be! Almost as excited as I am to be sort of, not really pretending to be Amy in this post. La la la I'm Amy.
That's basically it. Email us your stories. Like right now. You have no valid excuse anymore for not writing. We want to read. REEEEEAAAD! So send away!
Friday, May 28, 2010
On Our Way...
As you may have noticed, we have posted up our very first story (hoorah!). We are so happy with how the project is coming along so far, but we still need your help. The project is depending on YOU sending us letters and participating. Don't think to yourself, 'Oh, they probably already have tons of people writing them... I'll get around to it eventually,'... do it NOW! That's right. Now. Amy and I are eager to read your stories and send them out to other people etc. We even have some illustrators lined up to potentially help us bring these stories to life! Sounds awesome, right?
In other news, we also had our very first DONATION! Wow, wow, wow! Thank you SOO much! For more information on how to donate to us or how to help in other ways, visit our Help Out NeSP page.
One last thing... we are still very new, so ANYONE you know who might like this project, either writing or illustrating, send them the link and tell them about us! If you have been popping in and checking us out, follow us! Become a fan on our facebook page... everything you do with us helps us out!
Send us your stories! We can't WAIT! <3
In other news, we also had our very first DONATION! Wow, wow, wow! Thank you SOO much! For more information on how to donate to us or how to help in other ways, visit our Help Out NeSP page.
One last thing... we are still very new, so ANYONE you know who might like this project, either writing or illustrating, send them the link and tell them about us! If you have been popping in and checking us out, follow us! Become a fan on our facebook page... everything you do with us helps us out!
Send us your stories! We can't WAIT! <3
Thursday, May 20, 2010
The Stranger
It's our very FIRST STORY! How exciting is that? There wasn't a title submitted with this particular story, so it's just tentatively going to be The Stranger until something else is proposed! Now we're playing around with how to post these, so this time, we will start by introducing it:
The Stranger
Written by:
1st Page - Lindsay Cooper (Toronto, ON)
2nd Page - Stephanie Cooke (Toronto, ON)
3rd Page - Amy O'Brien (Toronto, ON)
Page 1:
He wore a tattered overcoat barely draped over his unassuming shoulders. His trousers, frightened of the floor, stopped 6 inches above it, give or take, as the seams showed signs of distress. A sweat stained, cheesecloth like dress shirt devoid of the necessary tools used to fasten it, looked disheveled, at best, hastily tucked into the corners of the aforementioned trousers. Atop his head was what appeared to be a pristine messenger boy cap; likely his most recently acquired treasure.
As my eyes scanned over his exterior moving from head to...toe? Nothing, not a sock, not a shoe, not even a paper bag to protect his 'soles' from the harsh pavement he had retreated from. My head fills with wonder and yet amazement at how one person could be so unlucky, so unfulfilled. My stomach pains with a feeling of disgust and resentment for being privy to such vulgarity of appearances. Yet, I know nothing of this man; I make assumptions based on aesthetics without even digesting an ounce of his character. I allow his clothing, not his demeanor to influence my opinions of the man who stands before me. I fail to notice his impeccable posture, his piercing blue eyes, the book strap containing the most advanced literary classics flung over his left shoulder, his kind smile which houses his defectless teeth and his soft, caring, comforting voice as he kindly asks for the key to the lavatory. A number of scenarios could have caused such a man to appear as he has, but the sheer ignorance of vision versus observation gives way to allow ones 'clothes' to equal ones character.
I find myself yearning for more information, a polite conversation even, anything to shed light on this man's life. Where did he come from and why did he leave? What is he reading and does it have any witticisms concerning the decline in the human condition or our benevolence to its decline? No, why would he hold such opinions, he doesn't appear to be a pretentious know-it-all, self proclaimed literary genius, like myself. He could be the man I have been waiting for, the one to sweep me off my feet and whisper into my ear "You, my dear, are a vision so beautiful words could not do justice to its description". But why, why would he be here, in this dump. The leather is peeling away from these stools, which barely supports my moderate build, the washrooms are rarely attended to and the food is often reminiscent of compiled leftovers when you haven't been to the local supermarket in a week, but what does this have to do with the man at the end of the bar? What does this have to do with my desperate need to 'find' someone, as if he has been missing, or is playing a game of hide-and-seek with me? Why am I even here? This is the place where one takes the men and women they are having an affair with, there is no way any respectable person would be caught dead here, yet every evening I sit here waiting to see someone I haven't seen before but have apparently been looking for my whole life? The man returns from the restroom, he appears to have refreshed himself and is sauntering nearer, making eye contact, preparing his callus free hand to greet me. In an attempt to make myself not appear eager I...
Page 2:
…turn away from him and make myself busy cleaning an already cleaned diner counter. The small crowd already present pays no mind to him. I seem to be the only one who has noticed his existence in this place. Why has my mind wandered to a place where my life includes him? A someone that I don’t even know the name of. Maybe it’s the books that he carries with him that make him attractive despite the aesthetics. I take a deep breath and turn around to find him sitting in a booth directly opposite of me. I grab a pot of coffee, walk over to him smiling and offer him a cup of our mediocre and slightly stale coffee, which he accepts. I ask him if he wants anything else and tell him about our specials, which are basically just a mish mash of all the leftover things that are about to go bad. He orders and pulls out a copy of a book that I have read over and over again countless times.
I pretend to work while keeping an eye on him as he absorbs the book, flying through it like it was a picture book. The cook rings the bell telling me that an order is ready. A little bit annoyed that my observation has been disturbed I walk over to the kitchen where our cook hands me his food. I grab it and the pot of coffee and walk back to him. As I put down his food and pour him some coffee, I turn to walk away and he touches my hand and asks me to sit with him for a moment. My heart leaps in my chest and a slight blush shows in my cheeks as I sit down in the opposite booth from him. The diner is slow, so it’s not a problem that I take a few minutes to talk with him.
I find out that his name is Jack and that he has been traveling around without any real destination. He left his life behind him and headed for the road with only the clothes on his back and the things that he absolutely could not part with – his favourite books. Pretty much the exact same things that I would leave with if I ever decided to get the hell out of this dead end town. We talk for hours after my shift ends. I still essentially know nothing about this man and yet I find myself inviting him to shower at my place and offer him my couch to rest on until he is ready to be on his way. He accepts.
We walk to my place, which is just around the corner and go in. I find some extra towels and face cloths and show him to the bathroom so he can shower and get cleaned up. It’s been a long time since I had a man visit my home that I feel slightly embarrassed at the thought of a naked man in my bathroom. While he is in the shower, I whip up some food that is far more edible than anything we serve in the diner. I don’t know what he likes, but I assume that traveling on the road with little to no money makes you not very picky when it comes to your next meal.
Jack comes out of the bathroom in a pair of PJs my brother used wear when he visited. They’re slightly big on him but I am surprised by how changed his appearance is with a little bit of soap and water. I serve dinner and we eat quietly and sip on our drinks timidly. After dinner, he walks over to my bookshelves, which take up most of the wall space in my home. He looks through them and back at me, smiling, clearly pleased with my literary collection. “You are just full of fantastic little surprises,” he says to me as he holds an exact copy of a book he also carries with him. My cheeks are rosy from the wine and from him standing so close to me.
Page 3:
I nervously take a step toward him and can immediately feel my face warm. He glances up from the bookshelf and catches my gaze; a look that suggests he can feel the heat emanating from my body. He leans into me as he reaches to place the book down. His arm brushes mine and I can feel my body tense and a gasp slip past my lips. I am instantly overwhelmed with thoughts and questions; a wonder as to how exactly I progressed through the day, a day like any other, and found myself merely inches away from this man. This man, a man in which I barely know. This man, a man that just hours prior had stepped his barefoot into my life, somehow managing to change its course henceforth.
Feeling his breathe on my shoulder as he straightened, I find myself wondering where that breathe had taken him, the life that filled this wanderers lungs. Had it fueled a walk through Central Park? Had it inhaled the warm air of the south? Had he taken in that deep breathe of relief as he finished those last few pages of that book? I then realized that my own breath had only ever experienced the stale air of this city and the harsh and dank atmosphere of the restaurant.
A growing fear and resentment washed over me. Our eyes met once more and he paused and stared, an obvious frustration had appeared on my face. There was a part of me that barely acknowledged his presence at this moment. I was jealous and wondered what made the two of us so different. I envied him for having the courage to take such a journey just because the need arose. Or perhaps it was boredom. Or perhaps he had woken up one morning with an unquenchable urge to rid himself of his life, or rid his life of him.
I heard a hushed noise and after a moment realized it was Jack. He asked if I was alright. His soft voice allowed me to shake off my mental tangent, at least for the moment. I told him that it had been a very long and very interesting day and tried to crack a brief smile, just to appease him, as he looked slightly worried. I then excused myself.
Closing the bathroom door behind me, I looked at myself in the mirror. A tinge of disgust filled me as I gazed upon the pale skinned tired looking face that stared back. I splashed some water across my cheeks and walked back out into the living room. Jack heard my footsteps and smiled at me as I entered the room. He thanked me for the meal and agreed that it had been quite the day. A statement that I believe suggested his need for rest. He looked exhausted, a very welcome exhausted. I wished him a goodnight and made my way to bed. A smile fell upon my face as I lay in bed that night.
Sunlight filled the sky as I took in the air of the early morning. I felt brighter and optimistic. The air was warm against my skin, a soft melody played from the violin of a musician on the corner. I clutched in my hand that book, that tattered and frayed book, and I wondered what Jack thought as he read the note I had left him right before I had walked out the door. And I felt my cheeks blush and my face warm and a deep breath fill my lungs as I took my first steps through Central Park.
The Stranger
Written by:
1st Page - Lindsay Cooper (Toronto, ON)
2nd Page - Stephanie Cooke (Toronto, ON)
3rd Page - Amy O'Brien (Toronto, ON)
Page 1:
He wore a tattered overcoat barely draped over his unassuming shoulders. His trousers, frightened of the floor, stopped 6 inches above it, give or take, as the seams showed signs of distress. A sweat stained, cheesecloth like dress shirt devoid of the necessary tools used to fasten it, looked disheveled, at best, hastily tucked into the corners of the aforementioned trousers. Atop his head was what appeared to be a pristine messenger boy cap; likely his most recently acquired treasure.
As my eyes scanned over his exterior moving from head to...toe? Nothing, not a sock, not a shoe, not even a paper bag to protect his 'soles' from the harsh pavement he had retreated from. My head fills with wonder and yet amazement at how one person could be so unlucky, so unfulfilled. My stomach pains with a feeling of disgust and resentment for being privy to such vulgarity of appearances. Yet, I know nothing of this man; I make assumptions based on aesthetics without even digesting an ounce of his character. I allow his clothing, not his demeanor to influence my opinions of the man who stands before me. I fail to notice his impeccable posture, his piercing blue eyes, the book strap containing the most advanced literary classics flung over his left shoulder, his kind smile which houses his defectless teeth and his soft, caring, comforting voice as he kindly asks for the key to the lavatory. A number of scenarios could have caused such a man to appear as he has, but the sheer ignorance of vision versus observation gives way to allow ones 'clothes' to equal ones character.
I find myself yearning for more information, a polite conversation even, anything to shed light on this man's life. Where did he come from and why did he leave? What is he reading and does it have any witticisms concerning the decline in the human condition or our benevolence to its decline? No, why would he hold such opinions, he doesn't appear to be a pretentious know-it-all, self proclaimed literary genius, like myself. He could be the man I have been waiting for, the one to sweep me off my feet and whisper into my ear "You, my dear, are a vision so beautiful words could not do justice to its description". But why, why would he be here, in this dump. The leather is peeling away from these stools, which barely supports my moderate build, the washrooms are rarely attended to and the food is often reminiscent of compiled leftovers when you haven't been to the local supermarket in a week, but what does this have to do with the man at the end of the bar? What does this have to do with my desperate need to 'find' someone, as if he has been missing, or is playing a game of hide-and-seek with me? Why am I even here? This is the place where one takes the men and women they are having an affair with, there is no way any respectable person would be caught dead here, yet every evening I sit here waiting to see someone I haven't seen before but have apparently been looking for my whole life? The man returns from the restroom, he appears to have refreshed himself and is sauntering nearer, making eye contact, preparing his callus free hand to greet me. In an attempt to make myself not appear eager I...
Page 2:
…turn away from him and make myself busy cleaning an already cleaned diner counter. The small crowd already present pays no mind to him. I seem to be the only one who has noticed his existence in this place. Why has my mind wandered to a place where my life includes him? A someone that I don’t even know the name of. Maybe it’s the books that he carries with him that make him attractive despite the aesthetics. I take a deep breath and turn around to find him sitting in a booth directly opposite of me. I grab a pot of coffee, walk over to him smiling and offer him a cup of our mediocre and slightly stale coffee, which he accepts. I ask him if he wants anything else and tell him about our specials, which are basically just a mish mash of all the leftover things that are about to go bad. He orders and pulls out a copy of a book that I have read over and over again countless times.
I pretend to work while keeping an eye on him as he absorbs the book, flying through it like it was a picture book. The cook rings the bell telling me that an order is ready. A little bit annoyed that my observation has been disturbed I walk over to the kitchen where our cook hands me his food. I grab it and the pot of coffee and walk back to him. As I put down his food and pour him some coffee, I turn to walk away and he touches my hand and asks me to sit with him for a moment. My heart leaps in my chest and a slight blush shows in my cheeks as I sit down in the opposite booth from him. The diner is slow, so it’s not a problem that I take a few minutes to talk with him.
I find out that his name is Jack and that he has been traveling around without any real destination. He left his life behind him and headed for the road with only the clothes on his back and the things that he absolutely could not part with – his favourite books. Pretty much the exact same things that I would leave with if I ever decided to get the hell out of this dead end town. We talk for hours after my shift ends. I still essentially know nothing about this man and yet I find myself inviting him to shower at my place and offer him my couch to rest on until he is ready to be on his way. He accepts.
We walk to my place, which is just around the corner and go in. I find some extra towels and face cloths and show him to the bathroom so he can shower and get cleaned up. It’s been a long time since I had a man visit my home that I feel slightly embarrassed at the thought of a naked man in my bathroom. While he is in the shower, I whip up some food that is far more edible than anything we serve in the diner. I don’t know what he likes, but I assume that traveling on the road with little to no money makes you not very picky when it comes to your next meal.
Jack comes out of the bathroom in a pair of PJs my brother used wear when he visited. They’re slightly big on him but I am surprised by how changed his appearance is with a little bit of soap and water. I serve dinner and we eat quietly and sip on our drinks timidly. After dinner, he walks over to my bookshelves, which take up most of the wall space in my home. He looks through them and back at me, smiling, clearly pleased with my literary collection. “You are just full of fantastic little surprises,” he says to me as he holds an exact copy of a book he also carries with him. My cheeks are rosy from the wine and from him standing so close to me.
Page 3:
I nervously take a step toward him and can immediately feel my face warm. He glances up from the bookshelf and catches my gaze; a look that suggests he can feel the heat emanating from my body. He leans into me as he reaches to place the book down. His arm brushes mine and I can feel my body tense and a gasp slip past my lips. I am instantly overwhelmed with thoughts and questions; a wonder as to how exactly I progressed through the day, a day like any other, and found myself merely inches away from this man. This man, a man in which I barely know. This man, a man that just hours prior had stepped his barefoot into my life, somehow managing to change its course henceforth.
Feeling his breathe on my shoulder as he straightened, I find myself wondering where that breathe had taken him, the life that filled this wanderers lungs. Had it fueled a walk through Central Park? Had it inhaled the warm air of the south? Had he taken in that deep breathe of relief as he finished those last few pages of that book? I then realized that my own breath had only ever experienced the stale air of this city and the harsh and dank atmosphere of the restaurant.
A growing fear and resentment washed over me. Our eyes met once more and he paused and stared, an obvious frustration had appeared on my face. There was a part of me that barely acknowledged his presence at this moment. I was jealous and wondered what made the two of us so different. I envied him for having the courage to take such a journey just because the need arose. Or perhaps it was boredom. Or perhaps he had woken up one morning with an unquenchable urge to rid himself of his life, or rid his life of him.
I heard a hushed noise and after a moment realized it was Jack. He asked if I was alright. His soft voice allowed me to shake off my mental tangent, at least for the moment. I told him that it had been a very long and very interesting day and tried to crack a brief smile, just to appease him, as he looked slightly worried. I then excused myself.
Closing the bathroom door behind me, I looked at myself in the mirror. A tinge of disgust filled me as I gazed upon the pale skinned tired looking face that stared back. I splashed some water across my cheeks and walked back out into the living room. Jack heard my footsteps and smiled at me as I entered the room. He thanked me for the meal and agreed that it had been quite the day. A statement that I believe suggested his need for rest. He looked exhausted, a very welcome exhausted. I wished him a goodnight and made my way to bed. A smile fell upon my face as I lay in bed that night.
Sunlight filled the sky as I took in the air of the early morning. I felt brighter and optimistic. The air was warm against my skin, a soft melody played from the violin of a musician on the corner. I clutched in my hand that book, that tattered and frayed book, and I wondered what Jack thought as he read the note I had left him right before I had walked out the door. And I felt my cheeks blush and my face warm and a deep breath fill my lungs as I took my first steps through Central Park.
Sunday, May 16, 2010
The Beginning of the Neverending
If this is your first time visiting us, WELCOME! We are so happy to have you checking out our site and are massively looking forward to hearing from all of you! This project has been in the works for a little while and it is so amazing to have it up and running.
It's only been about a week and this is already our third layout, but I think this one really tells you what we're about. Just a little bit of background quickly (you can find out some more in the Contact Us section), I'm Stephanie and I am the founder of this self-proclaimed brilliant project. I wanted to create something that everyone could contribute to and come together to create something lasting and phenomenal.
Now I mentioned that we are on our third layout already. Waaah! This particular layout was launched today and first of all, I hope you enjoy it as much as I do. Second of all, I need to give credit to the AMAZING artist who let us use her gorgeous work to help create this layout! Her name is Morena Forza or sugarcream on deviantART. I just want to take a moment to again thank the heck out of her! THANK YOU, THANK YOU, THANK YOU!!! Because I am such a fan of her work, I just want to share a bit of it here to show you how much I love her work!
It's amazing, right? If you enjoy her work as much as I do, follow her on twitter, check out her web site, or visit her blog!
Anyways, long story short. THANK YOU! Now, if you are still unsure of what the site is actually about... visit the right sidebar ----> and have a look at our About Us, How to Get Involved, and our Rules and Tips section to find out some more about the Neverending Story Project! Or if you're feeling generous, visit Help Out NeSP to find out what you can do to keep this project ongoing!
It's only been about a week and this is already our third layout, but I think this one really tells you what we're about. Just a little bit of background quickly (you can find out some more in the Contact Us section), I'm Stephanie and I am the founder of this self-proclaimed brilliant project. I wanted to create something that everyone could contribute to and come together to create something lasting and phenomenal.
Now I mentioned that we are on our third layout already. Waaah! This particular layout was launched today and first of all, I hope you enjoy it as much as I do. Second of all, I need to give credit to the AMAZING artist who let us use her gorgeous work to help create this layout! Her name is Morena Forza or sugarcream on deviantART. I just want to take a moment to again thank the heck out of her! THANK YOU, THANK YOU, THANK YOU!!! Because I am such a fan of her work, I just want to share a bit of it here to show you how much I love her work!
It's amazing, right? If you enjoy her work as much as I do, follow her on twitter, check out her web site, or visit her blog!
Anyways, long story short. THANK YOU! Now, if you are still unsure of what the site is actually about... visit the right sidebar ----> and have a look at our About Us, How to Get Involved, and our Rules and Tips section to find out some more about the Neverending Story Project! Or if you're feeling generous, visit Help Out NeSP to find out what you can do to keep this project ongoing!
Thursday, May 6, 2010
NeS Project
Welcome to the NS Project! Check out what we're all about on the right ----> sidebar at the top! This is where all of the completed stories will show up! Awesome, right? We think so!
For anyone who is just stopping by to get a quick peek at the site... in a nutshell the site is writers coming together to create three page short stories. Each page is done by a different author (all by good old-fashioned snail mail!). If this sounds awesome to you, read about it some more in the About Us, Rules and Tips, and How To Get Involved!
Some samples stories will be up shortly for you to check out, but until then, send in your own stories for us to start with! The instructions are also at the sidebar in How To Get Involved, so join in this amazing project!
Also, we have a donation box available for anyone who loves this project and wants to help out! We have to fund all of the stamps and envelopes ourselves, so any little bit helps... even just a dollar! If you can't help out with money, but you have some extra stamps kicking around... Help us by sending in extra stamps that we can use to get your letters out that much quicker (y'know... instead of having to wait until payday!). Want to know more? Check out the Help NeSP page!
Keep checking back often for new stories being posted! It will be a really fun process!
For anyone who is just stopping by to get a quick peek at the site... in a nutshell the site is writers coming together to create three page short stories. Each page is done by a different author (all by good old-fashioned snail mail!). If this sounds awesome to you, read about it some more in the About Us, Rules and Tips, and How To Get Involved!
Some samples stories will be up shortly for you to check out, but until then, send in your own stories for us to start with! The instructions are also at the sidebar in How To Get Involved, so join in this amazing project!
Also, we have a donation box available for anyone who loves this project and wants to help out! We have to fund all of the stamps and envelopes ourselves, so any little bit helps... even just a dollar! If you can't help out with money, but you have some extra stamps kicking around... Help us by sending in extra stamps that we can use to get your letters out that much quicker (y'know... instead of having to wait until payday!). Want to know more? Check out the Help NeSP page!
Keep checking back often for new stories being posted! It will be a really fun process!
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