Everyone has one book inside them waiting to get out. What's yours?
Collections of the mini books created from participant's book ideas can be loaned by Creative Writing groups and schools or if you would like a set to display at a public venue please contact June Wentland, Reader Development Officer (email@example.com).
There's an old saying that everyone has at least one unwritten book inside them. What a shame that those brilliant ideas are locked inside people's heads. We've tried to coax some of those book ideas out onto paper and have printed them up as 'mini books' for others to see. The Graveyard Grabber is just one of the many resulting titles.
Some have been produced by Bath Central Library users, others by the pupils of Paulton Primary and St Martin's Gardens Primary, young people at Radstock Youth Centre and at the City of Bath College Skills Fair.
My story is a fantasy fiction aimed at young adults and above. It is about a man who becomes an Angel. He is unsure and confused about his new role and has to deal not only with his recent death, but also a fellow Angel attempting to sabotage Heaven. The book focuses on strength, determination and ultimately faith. In the end, not all is what it seems.
I wake up at the same time I wake up everyday and rise from my bed. You may think that sounds strange, but that’s just what we do here. We have a bed and a bedroom and everything that you would expect to find in that bedroom. We’re like the living dead, only not in the flesh eating Zombie way. My room is structurally the same as all the other workers, round with a large bay window with a window seat underneath covered in cushions. It is painted a light blue, my choice, and there are small round lights fixed into the wall. On the walls there are several black and white photographs of people I once knew; friends, family. I can only assume that these images are imprinted in my mind and because my room is a projection of that, they appear. I am grateful to have them as they are the only link I have to my life. At least my old life anyway.
I make my bed and walk towards the wardrobe. I open it and lines and lines of the same outfit hang before me like a black wall. I lift a hanger out and start getting dressed in my work uniform, a black suit with a black shirt and a black tie. I get dressed and put on my black polished shoes. Trainers are never allowed the Boss doesn’t think they look smart enough, and to him, image is everything.
I go to the mirror and look at myself. It’s odd; I will always look twenty seven, frozen in time for eternity. I suppose it’s a good thing I killed myself when I did and not when I started to get wrinkles or go grey. I brush my dark brown hair and walk out of the room closing the door behind me..
She writes a novel, then obsessively keeps re-writing it, can’t finish with the endless revisions. It’s written in the first person, who is like and unlike herself. She becomes impatient, irritated, almost despairing with this other I. She locks her/ the novel in a cupboard yet it haunts her, she hears knocking from inside the cupboard; the other self starts shadowing her dreams. So she resolves to get rid of her/ it. She dumps the boxed script in the dustbin, and it duly vanishes.
But this is only the beginning of the story. Who finds this novel? Someone who becomes involved in it, adopts it as their own, and begins obsessively to rewrite...This is like a game of Chinese whispers. Gradually plot and person change, while certain threads of the story lead to unexpected events and places – as more writers ‘foster’ this fictional child.
I think that each new chapter of the book would have a new fictional author. Each shift would be described in italics – how the script was lost and re-found and who found it. And then the new ‘I’ would take over ... but find him / herself taken over by the I of the story. This story can be read as it evolves with different narrators inhabiting different lives.
The original story began with the disappearance of the author’s father, who has left a bunch of bananas and note on her door after discharging himself from a mental institution ... Now read / write on..
One Tuesday afternoon Rosie is walking into town and she sees an abandoned bookshop. Two windows are smashed and there’s a cobweb on the old wooden door handle. One of the steps leading into the bookshop is cracked. The bookshop entices her in with its gaudy looking surroundings. Rosie is wearing a blue top with a black jacket and dark blue jeans. On her feet she wears a pair of high heeled black boots with silver studs and as she walked her footsteps echoed on the concrete steps. As\ she approached the door she held her hand up. It was trembling.
When she turned the handle it gave an eerie creak and with that the door fell open to expose a blackness that seemed to invite her in. As she walked in her eyes swept the darkness and as they adjusted she could pick out shapes. She decided to feel across the wall for a light switch. Her hand moved slowly across the wall until she found it. She pushed it in and suddenly the room lit up. The sudden introduction of light caused her to blink but in the light she could see that the wall covered with shelves, shelves of books that were leather bound, some even had gold rims. She walked around entranced wondering who on earth could leave so many books. She thought they must belong to somebody.
She decided to look at the books. Her brown eyes skimmed the shelves and her fingers traced the spines. But on the far left she found a book. It was black with gold writing. She liked the look of the book so much; she carefully took it off the shelf and sank to the ground where she opened it. Inside the front cover of the book there was red writing. It read “To whoever opens this book beware! Your life will change forever.”
Reading that her eyes widened, but for some reason she felt a pull to turn the next page where an object slid out and fell onto the floor. She laid the book to one side and picked up the object to examine it more closely. It was a big, black heart with a black rope that it hung from. She could see that it opened but for some reason it was stuck. She would pull on it but was frightened of breaking it as she didn’t know how old it was. Then and there, she decided to take it and the book home where she would work out what it was doing there in the first place. She picked up the book in one hand and then rose from the floor. She had dirt patches on her jeans from where she had been kneeling. She left the building undisturbed as she moved to turn the light off. Then she was out on the street again where she headed straight for home. When she got there she ran upstairs, barricaded her door. She decided to hide the book. She didn’t know why she felt this way. But there was something strange about the book. She just didn’t know what.
She got ready for bed that night. It was dark outside her window, the wind whistling through the trees. Then at midnight when she heard the town clock strike twelve she saw a shadowy figure outside the window. She sat up in bed. The figure seemed to be getting closer and closer. She heard a scratching and then there was someone standing there. She wouldn’t speak, but she couldn’t see if the mysterious character was a man or woman. Then it spoke.
“Where’s the book?” the voice boomed. Scared she jumped.
“What do you mean?” she stuttered.
“You know exactly what I mean,” the voice spat back at her.
“Who are you?” she asked, her voice quavering on every word.
“I am your worst nightmare...”
Other titles include: The Graveyard Grabber, Look for Crime and You Pay, Travelling Until the Moment of Death, Zombies from Hell, Midnight Tulips ...
Don't miss them and why not have a go yourself? Maybe some of these books will be completed, published and become award winning fiction!