Comment to Rachel's final fan fiction

I haven't watched the movie before so it's a little difficult for me to figure out the relationship between these characters. However, the person's internal description is very good. The only problem is I didn't feel it like a thriller novel. But still, good to read your novel. Well done.

Christina’s Feedback

1. Mala's Fanfiction Planning
2. Paula's Fan Fiction Draft/Plan
3. Rachel's Fan Fiction planning/draft
4. John's fan fiction draft/plan

Paula's Fan Fiction Draft/Plan

 

Title: Before I go to sleep

Author: S.J Watson

Genre: Thriller , Novel

Country: United Kingdom

Language: English

Audience expectations: Adults who are interested in thriller writings

POV: First person

Plot /Setting: Christine Lucas suffers from a rare form of amnesia due to the accident she had before. Every night when she goes to sleep she loses her memories of the day and then she wakes up in the following morning with just knowing a little about herself. Thinking she is a young women in her twenties but she is actually at the age of forty-seven. Her husband Ben does a recall of how Christine and him met, when did them get married and what her situation now is. One day she receives a call from Dr. Nash telling her that they are making some progress together on her amnesia and he tells her that she’s been keeping a diary herself for a month on what she does every day. Christine finds out that on the very first page of the diary it says “don’t trust Ben”.

Characters - The following lists are the characters that will be appearing in the story.

Christine Lucas: Forty-seven years old, suffering from amnesia and loses her memories when she goes to sleep.

Ben: Christine’s husband , they’ve been married for 22 years. Takes care and explain to Christine about her life every day.

Dr. Nash: Christine’s doctor and he remind her every day about her diary and tell her to keep writing down what she does or see every day.

Claire: Christine’s best friend.

 

Fan Fiction Links

1.      Confessions :

This is a disturbing novel which is written by a Japanese author called Kanae Minato. The story has also been filmed into a movie. The story begins with a high school teacher whose daughter was murdered by her 2 pupils, Student - A and Student- B. She injected her husband’s HIV-contaminated blood into the milk cartons that Student A and B had just drank as her revenge to them. Without telling who they are just giving some hints, rest of the class soon figure out whom those two are. They start bully Student A and B thinking they are totally right to bully them but this is just a part of the teacher’s revenge.

Story develops with how Student A, B and others react also their confession to the issue of the death of the daughter from their point of view. As well as how the teacher uses the dark side of the students in the class to achieve her revenge plan. This story really shows the evil side of people’s mind inside their head. 

   

2.       Summer, Fireworks and My Corpse

This is a novel written by a Japanese author called Otsuichi , most of his writing are on horror short stories. This story was written while the author was at high school. The book is about a nine-year old was killed by her friend from pulling her off the tree because they both had a crush on her friend’s older brother. Story is told from the perspective of the girl’s corpse and how her corpse witness her friend lied to her brother that she fell off by herself but she just couldn’t expose the truth of her death. The brother and sister started to cover their offense, they even moved the corpse to different few places. This is really unbelievable how two little children have such a scheming thoughts. It is also very interesting listen to a corpse telling the story.

3.      Strange Tales from a Chinese Studio

This is a book consist of almost 500 supernatural stories written by a Chinese author called Pu-Songling during the Qing Dynasty which is about 200 years ago.

Mostly the characters which appear in the text are people , ghosts, immortals  or animal such as foxes. It is also said that the author set up a place where people can get free drinks from telling the author a story. Then he used the stories he heard and turned them into variety of stories such as love between human and ghosts or people who take advantages on others. Even some of the stories have only got few words with some random plot. But this has always be one of my favourite books since I like ghost stories and stories which I can learn from.  

4.      The Sleeping Dragon

This book was written by a Japanese author called Miyabe Miyuki who is Japan’s number 1 bestselling mystery author. This book was published in 1991 and it says that “everyone has a dragon inside them, powerful unlimited dragon. When it’s wakened all we can do is pray.”

The story is a guy who is searching for his seven years old son who had gone to look for their lost pet with a yellow umbrella. Later the pet has been found but the boy is gone, all they found on the road is a yellow umbrella with an opened manhole next to it. A sixteen year old boy was holding the yellow umbrella and he felt the little boy’s scare shot through, whether he actually has a kind of psychic powers or he has just witness the whole incident. The story continues with how the boy tried to convince to a journalist that he has actually got psychic power also how they found the truth of boy’s missing.  

5.      The Baker Street Letters
I bought and read this book in January this year. As I have always love to 
read Sherlock Holmes series also this book has a very attractive cover 
package with a Sherlock Holmes name card inside. The stories is set in 
   Baker Street with two brothers Reggie and Nigel Heath has rented the apartment as their office after Sherlock has gone on holiday. They receive letters from Sherlock fans and they had always replied the letter into a same way. Until one day Nigel broke the rule by replying a letter which was sent from a girl in LA about her missing father. Soon one the worker in the office was found dead in the office on the others side Nigel is gone and no one has any idea where he is. I finish the book very quick as I cannot wait to know about the truth. It was a little pity that the story didn’t have much connection with Holmes than I expected. The author Michael Robertson has also published another book called The Brothers of Baker Street, I am looking forward to read it and hopefully will have more connection with Holmes.

Courtney's Final FanFiction

“My friend, Sherlock Holmes is…”

“Damn this window!” taking all his frustration out, he punched the pane. Eventually sacrificing a shoelace to tie the latch together; muttering something about complaining to the landlady downstairs.

For a moment he thought of Ms Hudson, not the lard of woman downstairs. He could feel her smile, full of concern. He hated it on her.  He couldn’t go back the flat on Baker Street.

Not yet.

Empty walls stared back; shrinking around him. It was simple; he had been used to simple once. His gun had returned to the dresser and his cane had skulked back to his side where it had belonged, before all of this.

“Right, time for bed” he announced before dark images clouded his mind. He had seen them too often already, looping inside his eyelids. Bloodshed, and the crack of bone on pavement. The war had faded from keeping him up, instead, just one man and the glaze of blue eyes on a crimson-stained face.

He cringed at the image, cursing it, “No, no! Not again, not…” he curled on the end of the single bed, “again” he crowned his fingertips and buried his forehead in them.

“…Sherlock”

“John?”

 Light came into focus around the figure that had propelled John to his feet; his cane in a ready swing.

“…You”

No, it had to be a fake, him standing there. Just like every other time. Poised, polished, perfectly fine…

“John?” cautiously the cane lowered; a miracle? The only one who could pull a miracle like this was him.

Miracle? He had to die to prove a miracle.

“How is this-I-I took, your pulse-“questions flourished, battling each other to be asked. He shook his head in disbelief and more at his own anger that was growing by the second.

“No! No! You can’t do this to me Sherlock! You’re dead! I saw you! I SAW YOU DIE!”

“John, I know you won’t forgive me for this…” Despite the dry fury John couldn’t help but chuckle, “…I’ve hurt you” Pain? What did he know of it?

 “Hurt me?” a hallucination. Brought on by insomnia, drinking, drugs, something!  “Hurt is an understatement, Sherlock. You rang me, told me that you, that everything was a lie! And then told me to watch WHILE YOU JUMPED OFF A FUCKING FIVE STORY BUILDING!”

“Well, only four, basement doesn’t count”

“SHERLOCK!” heavy silence fell over them, allowing some bleaker thoughts come to light, “What you did, what you made me go through” cracking plastic filled the space as the cane fell discarded “-What they said about you-“

 “I saw”

“You mean observed?” Deadpan retorts were all he could manage while withholding anger, “I bet this seems hilarious to you! Faking your own death then coming back like nothing’s happened. So, what? Say you’re sorry and we’re fine again?”

“As I said, I don’t expect forgiveness. This is hardly an amusing experience; it wasn’t part of the plan” Sherlock placed his hands behind his back; every movement carried a calm offense.

“Plan? What plan?”

“Moriarty’s Intel, rotting from inside; bring the entire web to its knees by pulling strings. Simple -Without Moriarty playing puppeteer“ his eyes basked in triumph, seeping into the corner of his mouth, “With some help from Mycroft-”

“Mycroft?”

“And Molly.”

“-Fake autopsy”

“Almost complete.”

“Congratulations.”

“Thank you”

“Get out”

“John!” Sherlock’s voice made his ears cower as he hobbled for the door. Two options, get out or be thrown out, “John!” rage blinded him, infecting his reasoning.

He went for the gun in the dresser.

 “-John, Listen to me. I never really left. I was always following you, keeping an eye out in case any of the operatives found out I was alive. They would come here first” Despite the army-issue pistol directed at him; there were no signs of fear in the silhouette.

“Me? Why?”

“You are my friend.”

“Friend,” his sneer spat into his words, ”YOU DON’T DO THIS TO FRIENDS SHERLOCK”

John’s outbursts had rendered Sherlock silent. John could feel his eyes study his every inch, making those damned deductions about the cursed few months he had spent here.

“You’re bitter about me leaving”

“Bitter? You had me thinking you were dead. Faked an autopsy to take down a dead man’s syndicate!” His arm slowly giving into shakes as the weight of the revolver seemed to gain. “Dear god, what they said about you, the papers, telly, blogs. I had to shut mine down-“

“If I’d told you the truth they wouldn’t have believed I was dead. I am sorry, for what I did to you. But understand,” the pistol to jumped back into attention as he daringly stepped forward.

“What?”

“If you were bitter, you wouldn’t be as angry as you are, John Watson. Bitterness is a paralytic. I felt it as I stood watching you on the ledge, the only reason I had for stepping off it, was the one begging me not to.  A viscous motivator.”

“What are you telling me Sherlock?”

“Alone; alone was all I had, it protected me; such sentiment” He whispered, “You are my friend, John. My only friend. The more you yell and tell me to leave; the more you convince yourself that this is a dream or another drunken stupor to evade even the possibility that I am really standing here so you won’t be as upset when you wake up, tells me I’m not alone.”

“Alone” John echoed, resonating within his memories “I was so alone” he studied Sherlock’s face, every detail, “The flat, Ms Hudson, everything was wrong without you” He was fine, he was here, “Why?”

“I told you why-“

“No I mean why, why does it hurt so much without you? Why am I not furious that you lied to me? Dammit Sherlock!”

The gun crashed to the ground as overwhelming emotions swept him away. Falling to his knees he curled on his hands, gripping the floor for support. Sobs carried, echoing outside the empty, bolted apartment.