Choose a Good Name!

So I recently learned that the villain's name in the latest Captain America movie. The villain's name was Schmit. Okay since this is a blog about writing I'll tell you how to choose a good bad-guy name. First off, you should either make one up (like I did in Mithest. Actually almost all the names were made up.) or choose a regular name that sounds like they could be sinister. I search online for first and last names all the time. For example In Florence Conway I searched for Victorian names first and last. But Schmit really? That is the worst bad-guy name ever. When you think of Schmit, you think of a innocent, mostly harmless*, Germanic person, don't you? (If you say no you're fooling yourself. Now the wonderfulness of writing fiction is that you make it up. So the names of your characters don;t even need to be real names. For example Mithest, Basileke, Kileet, are all names I made up for Mithest. It's fiction there is no need to make any of it real. Please for me though don't make you're villain's name stupid. Then whoever reads your story won't take him/her seriously. If you need more tips on villains name comment and if you have a story short or novel length and you need someone to review it/ give suggestion/ edit it. Then you can e-mail me at poppoppy21@gmail.com. with what you need me to do with your story.

-Pop! Poppy

Well a REAL Post

So I realized that
A)I'm not always writing stories so I need to change the way I use this blog
B)To keep people reading I need to post constantly
& C) I need to post more than stories

This does not mean that I wont be posting my stories... It'll just mean that I'll do regular posts as well.
 Those who are like "oh, no she's gotten rid of 'Time Travel Titanic'" Well I'm sorry but what I've written I can't post and the story has been discontinued. I started to dislike the way the story was going and deleted it so please forget the story ever existed. I am still working on the other stories and am currently writing one that tales place on the Alaskan frontier. Fun factoids about my writing:

1. I am usually influenced by whatever I am reading at the time
2. I ma influenced by writers such as, Agatha Christie, Tamora Pierce, Charlotte Brontë, Arthur Conan Doyle, just their writing style not the type of books they write.
3. I'm inspired by nostalgia, The Victorian Era, Wild West, Alaskan Frontier, The Prairie...
4. I'm better at writing fiction than Compare-Contrast papers..

So there's a better understanding of my writing. So now all that's left for me to finish now is "Florence Conway" so you can see how that ends. I'll post more later. I need to go adjust the blog

-Pop! Poppy

So, About My Stories

I have created a poll over on the left right side of your screen so you can tell me what story you like most. I'll finish all of them. Just tell me which one you want me to finish most so you can read it in it's entirety. Leave comments PLEASE!!! I really want to know. later you can tell me ideas for stories to wite or things to add to the stories just tell me WHICH ONE TO WRITE MOST!!!!! I'll leave you a little key

Key for comments 
FC= Florence Conway (A.K.A The story about Robert Browning and Elizabeth Barret Browning.)
M= Mithes (A.K.A the story about Gods and Godesses.)

PLEASE LET ME KNOW! VOTE IN THE POLL!! Just let me know what you like.

-Pop! Poppy

Okay an Updated Florence Conway

-->

I woke that morning to the sound of my maid, Anna. The year, 1845. I wanted to start my day of wonder, after all this was the most amazing era to be alive. I walked to my closet. I insisted on dressing myself except for my corset. For that I needed Anna. I called for Anna, she quickly arrived and her blonde hair and round face were very kind. She helped get my waist to eighteen inches. I quickly got into my lemon yellow get up and walked out the door. I stopped at a vendor who was selling the most wonderful smelling bread. I pulled out my purse and bought a loaf. I ate part of it and put the rest in my bag. I walked a bit more and arrived at a friend’s house, Elizabeth Barrett. I knocked on the door, and Wilson, the maid, opened it. She let me into the house and left. I proceeded to walk up the stairs to Ba’s room. I knocked and entered. She was sitting on her couch reading.

                  She looked up from her book and said, “Come in Florence.” I closed the door behind me.  I walked to the chair in front of her couch. I immediately sat down. By this point I should tell you about myself. I am twenty, red haired, named Florence Conway, and I live in London, England. I didn’t wait for Ba to stand before I sat because she is an invalid. Her brother Edward died about four and three fourths of a year ago.

                  “So, Ba, What are you reading?”

                  “Some poetry by Robert Browning, did you know that he has been visiting me?”

                  “Really! He’s the most handsome poet in all of England.”

                  “Yes, what smells so wonderful?”

                  “Some bread I bought, would you like some?” Ba nodded and I opened my bag. I pulled out the bread and broke off a chunk. I gave the piece to Ba and she began to nibble on it. Ba looked out the window and finished her bread.

                  “I’m sorry to be so rude but could you go Robert’s coming.” I nodded picked up my bag and leaned forward to hug her.

                  “Is your father here tomorrow?”

                  “No.”

                  “I’ll see you tomorrow then. Bye.”

                  I walked down half  the stairs when Mr. Browning passed me I nodded to him and vise versa. He proceeded upward and I went back onto Wimpole Street. The world seemed so alive. So full of wonder and love.  I was happy for Ba because she was happy. I waked around for a few hours and looked at the vendors and kiosks. Then I got to my real duty, I had to get my outfit for tonight’s party. It had been planned for three whole months. Everyone was going to be there with the obvious exception of the Barretts. They never went anywhere, at least for social gatherings.

                  Later that day, well the evening, I as getting ready for the party with its strenuous formalities. I had a dark red dress made partly of velvet. And I had Anna curl my long hair into ringlets. Once I was satisfied I left with my father to the party. There I had to go through the niceties, a fancy term for speaking to every last person there. Halfway through that I didn’t meet anyone I didn’t already know and was reaching for the nearest servant carrying wine or spirits. The party was being thrown by a wealthy family by the name of Augustine. My father and Mr. Augustine are very good friends, so are my mother and Mrs. Augustine. But their daughter Ruth is a real bore. Luckily they are wonderful hosts and I do not need to meet them again. After three glasses of wine I thought I met every one but I hadn’t, as it turned out Robert Browning was here. I saw him through the corner of my eye and headed toward him.

                  As I reached him he seemed very bored. I spoke first,” Mr. Browning, I do not mean to intrude upon your being but my name is Florence Conway. We met before, just passing at Elizabeth’s house. I uhhh, wondered if you would care to talk as you seem, well, bored.”

                  “These things have always bored me, they’re so fake and as a poet I refuse to acknowledge anything but the truth.” He replied.

                  I laughed a slightly drunk laugh but also a slightly witty one.

                  “What?! Why do you laugh?”

                  “Because it’s so true.”

                  “Hmmm…”

                  “Have you met the rest of Ba’s Family? Mr. Browning?”

                  “No, I once passed Mr. Barrett…but he didn’t seem like the person of her family I’d want to meet.”

                  “Smart move.” I replied.

                  “Have you met many of her family?”

                  “A few I’ve met Occy, Henrietta, Samuel, Arabella, Charles, George, Henry, Alfred, and Sette. Of course I’ve also met Surtees, Henrietta’s suitor. So basically the whole family. Including her father, Edward Barrett. We’re on friendly terms he doesn’t mind me seeing her and he likes my family. I never new her Brother Edward though, because he died about four and three fourths of a year ago. Or her mother who has been dead for many a year may she rest in peace.”

                  “Hmm, interesting. But I thought that they weren’t allowed to see the opposite sex?”

                  “Yes that is true but Henrietta sees Surtees secretly and obviously you see Ba. Probably because even though he might not like you you’re both poets. So he probably thinks you both discuss stanzas and hyperboles.”

                  You know quite a lot about poetry for someone who doesn’t write it.”

                  “Well, I’m Ba’s friend so…”

                  Robert gave me a quizzical look when he heard his name called from flock of young girls desperate to talk to him. ”Well my dear Miss Conway I believe we must part to do our own social niceties. I believe we shall meet again. Farewell.”

                  H headed toward the girls with a look of dread on his face that they were too girlish to recognize. The evening dragged on and I met another man by the name of Walter Ashwell. My father met him after I did and an immediate liking to him. I asked my father to leave so we could talk. As it turned out we had quite a bit in common but we didn’t have much time to talk he had to leave. But we made a date for the day after tomorrow. Shortly after that I left with father. It was just him and me. My mother died having me and she was the only woman my father could ever love. He’s my best friend. When home I got out of my corset and into my cotton nightgown. I had Anna brush my hair one hundred times. As I fell asleep my head danced with thoughts of Ba, her family, Surtees, Mr. Browning, and Walter.

-Pop! Poppy

My Stories or... What I've Written of them

Florence Conway:

-->

                  I woke that morning to the sound of my maid, Anna. The year, 1845. I wanted to start my day of wonder, after all this was the most amazing era to be alive. I walked to my closet. I insisted on dressing myself except for my corset. For that I needed Anna. I called for Anna, she quickly arrived and her blonde hair and round face were very kind. She helped get my waist to eighteen inches. I quickly got into my lemon yellow get up and walked out the door. I stopped at a vendor who was selling the most wonderful smelling bread. I pulled out my purse and bought a loaf. I ate part of it and put the rest in my bag. I walked a bit more and arrived at a friend’s house, Elizabeth Barrett. I knocked on the door, Wilson, the maid, opened it. She let me into the house and left. I proceeded to walk up the stairs to Ba’s room. I knocked and entered. She was sitting on her couch reading.

                  She looked up from her book and said, “Come in Florence.” I closed the door behind me.  I walked to the chair in front of her couch. I immediately sat down. By this point I should tell you about myself. I am twenty, red haired, named Florence Conway, and I live in London, England. I didn’t wait for Ba to stand before I sat because she is an invalid. Her brother Edward died about four and three fourths of a year ago.

                  “So, Ba, What are you reading?”

                  “Some poetry by Robert Browning, did you know that he has been visiting me?”

                  “Really! He’s the most handsome poet in all of England.”

                  “Yes, what smells so wonderful?”

                  “Some bread I bought, would you like some?” Ba nodded and I opened my bag. I pulled out the bread and broke off a chunk. I gave the piece to Ba and she began to nibble on it. Ba looked out the window and finished her bread.

                  “I’m sorry to be so rude but could you go Robert’s coming.” I nodded picked up my bag and leaned forward to hug her.

                  “Is your father here tomorrow?”

                  “No.”

                  “I’ll see you tomorrow then. Bye.”

                  I walked down half  the stairs when Mr. Browning passed me I nodded to him and vise versa. He proceeded upward and I went back onto Wimpole Street.

Mithest

 

-->

The smell of blood orange blossoms filled the air along with the tinkling of crystal ivy leaves hitting each other. Mithest, the goddess of youth and spring was in the central garden of the palace. It was a large circular room made of white and grey fleck with silver marble, with intricate carvings on the trim of the top and bottom. The floor was a black marble with crushed pearls in it. Towards the center, six marble columns made a sort of hexagon. Growing on these columns was crystal ivy cascading down them in intricate webs of purest green. On the edges of this room grew fruit trees of the most exotic types. At this moment all were in bloom but the most fragrant of all were the blood orange blossoms smelling of the purest orange conceived. Mithest walked to the center of the room where a fountain depicting the Greek god Apollo riding his chariot, the water coming out of the horses mouths.

                  Mithest looked into the waters, she studied her reflection, her long golden hair cascading over her shoulders and almost touching the water. She had the fairest complexion of any of the gods or goddesses at the palace, this included the youngest, Thyme, who was only two years younger than Mithest, who was already one-and-twenty years and looked like she had never seen sunlight. She was the goddess of spring for Persephone’s sake! Persephone is a sister goddess who rules over Greece and is also a bringer of spring and youth. Mithest looked back into the water. She also saw large emerald green eyes staring back. She splashed her reflection and made it dissipate into indistinguishable ripples.

                  She heard a noise and looked up to see one of the crystal ivy leaves falling then smashing into the ground. She looked up again and saw one of the keepers of the garden fly down in a hurry to clean up the mess. But, it was too late, the mother goddess, Basileke, had shown up. Basileke had the utmost respect for life, she was the mother of the harvest, the great mother goddess, and while she would never end life she wasn’t afraid to threaten it. She proceeded to tell off the keepers that this was the fifth leaf this week and she would throw them into the darkest depths of the underworld for a few days if they weren’t more careful. She turned to Mithest, Mithest bowed to the mother goddess; this woman was the female ruler of all Carnel. Basileke left, leaving Mithest to wander. Wander Mithest did. Her orange gauze dress flowed behind her as she walked. The dress had two thick shoulder straps and was a somewhat low cut on her large breasts. The hem of the dress went down to her heels.

                  She went to see her brother Zekehale, the god of weather. As the name implied he didn’t have the strongest physique. She knocked on the door and entered, there he was sitting at a table engrossed in a history book; while omnipotent he loved rereading history. He looked up; his slightly greasy hair was limp. His circular reading glasses were perched on his hooked nose. He didn’t actually need the glasses, but he liked to wear them while reading. The weather changed according to his mood. Today he was in a pleasant mood and it was sunny, she hoped. There was no doors or windows in this palace. Only the highest of the gods and goddesses were allowed to leave. Her brother stared at her patiently realizing that she was in deep thought. She was his only other intellectual equal. They were the most intelligent of any other of the immortals, as they called themselves. Mithest looked at Zekehale, she thought of how particularly handsome he was when he was cleaned up.

“So what do you think about tonight’s meeting of the gods and goddesses?” said Mithest.

Zekehale took off the glasses and set them on the desk in front of him. He rubbed his eyes and looked up, “Tonight will be another tedious affair of petty jealousy, envy, and corrupt power. As always happens at these meetings, nothing accomplished and nothing gained.” He began to nervously run his hands through his hair; it was one of his habits.

Mithest took this as a sign that he was worried, “the real problem is they never listen to the younger among us, including us.” She lowered her voice, “especially Basileke who seems to see us all as puppets. Except her husband, Rianold.”

Zekehale looked at her in disparity. Mithest rose to leave, she walked over to Zekehale kissed his hair, told him goodbye, and left him to his reading. She wandered the halls saying hello to the odd passerby as she headed to her room. There she found some nymphs there to fit her into a new dress commissioned by Basileke. Mithest hated all of it. When the ordeal was over they left her to her thoughts. In five hours the meeting would begin and a clash of personalities would meet.  Maybe this time they could get the meeting to work. She heard a knock on the door, she heaved her chest and rose to answer it. It was Zekehale, or Zeke as she called him. “Come in Zeke.” Said Mithest. He crossed the threshold into her brightly decorated room.

Above their heads animated ceramic birds of vibrant and vivid colors flew overhead they always made Zeke feel uneasy. The floor was a dark oak with cream-colored walls. The furniture was an apple green with copper undertones. The walls were inlaid with opals, rubies, and diamonds, however they were set into the walls to make images of trees, birds, and insects. On one of the walls though, she had two crossed swords with jeweled handles. Zeke sat down on a small sofa and waited for Mithest to sit. She sat next to him on the small sofa. There was a look of worry in his eyes. Then she became worried. She could never really read his thoughts. It was just difficult for her. Usually she could figure out what others were thinking, even Basileke! She smoothed her dress, one of her nervous habits. She could tell he was nervous because he was combing his hair with his fingers. He opened his mouth to talk then closed it again. She tentatively waited for what he was going to say. He opened his mouth hesitantly again but just as soon closed it.

“What!?” yelled Mithest.

Zeke took a deep breath and sighed. He shook his head and stood to leave. Before he could take one step Mithest had grabbed his sleeve and yanked him back onto the sofa. He looked back at her with the verge of depression on the back of his eyes. Somewhere below there was a thunderstorm ready to hit.

“Mithest, I have some hard news to tell you, soon after you left the Mother Goddess came to my room. She had some news to tell me.” He took another deep breath, “I’m now betrothed to Thyme, the goddess of children and women.”

Mithest immediately began crying. Thyme was a spoiled goddess favored by Basileke and very not deserving of Zeke. Everyone but Basileke hated Thyme; she was also the most air headed of them all. Mithest took Zeke’s hands into hers. “If I could I would marry you, even though you’re my brother.”

Zeke looked up; a childish gleam in his eyes. He had an idea. “Mithest you could marry me, we’ve never been told we couldn’t!”

Mithest was flustered; this man was her brother, her friend. She could never think of him as her lover! “Out Zeke, I need to think.” Zeke left with a slight smirk on his face. She looked at a clock no time to think she had to get ready for the meeting. She slipped out of her dress and informal corset. She had to put on her formal corset with made her already small waist even smaller and her breasts looked bigger. She then put on her dark grey formal gown and headed down the hall to the court of the gods and goddesses. She found her seat next to her brother. He was smiling! She found it unnerving. At that moment she knew her answer to his question. Once she sat down she said no to him. This made him exceptionally mad. He stormed out. However, since she had some favor with the Great Mother Goddess, she could probably use a favor to have him betrothed to a nicer, smarter girl like Kileet.

Once the meeting started the fights began, she used this as a moment to see Basileke. Once there she explained her predicament to Basileke and the Mother Goddess took it all into consideration. She told Mithest that the answer would be announced at eh end of the meeting. So, after and hour and a half of arguing, envy, and screaming, Basileke silenced the group. She then told Mithest to fetch Zeke. Which was easier said than done. She marched down the hall to his room where he found a very mad Zeke. She knocked and entered. Once in the doorway he threw a book at her head, which she dodged with slight uncertainty. After that first book, a flood of items; mostly book were lobbed at her. Once he had calmed down she got him to follow her. Once he was mad he had the mentality of a ten year old. They entered the meeting room and sat themselves on their side of the long, dark, ebony table. Zeke crossed his arms and sat.

Basileke spoke, “everyone, I have a very important announcement to make. As you all know Zeke and Thyme are betrothed but I have made a slight adjustment on the asking of Mithest. Zeke is now going to marry Kileet.”

Thyme proceeded to cry out of sadness, Zeke threw his arms around Mithest and hugged her, cheers went around the table, and Kileet cried out of happiness for she had always loved Zeke.  Kileet was a shy and meek woman. Her copper hair was the envy of many a goddess. Her only problem was that she was frail, weak, and his first cousin. She was not a strong willed person either. Mithest left to go to her room. She was elated. All had worked out. Now her only problem was leaving this palace. While she had favor with the Mother Goddess she hated her guts. The tedium of the palace was killing her. Life was so dull so monotonous. Goddesses here sew, knit and are at the men’s call. Mithest hated it. Feeling restless she switched into a pair of cotton pants and a cotton shirt, which was a rare sight at the palace, women didn’t usually wear pants.

She walked down the hall to the rec. room. For men, she didn’t like the one for women it was full of frilly stuff for girls. She opened the large doors to the room there she saw weights, swords, and mats for wrestling. She walked to the wall full of weapons and picked up a long sword. She started drilling herself. Her brother had taught her how to fight with a sword. She knew most of what was needed to fight. The sword was heavy in her hands. After half an hour of this she left, if she was caught in there she could get in serious trouble. Just as she opened the door she met the Mother Goddess who looked furious. Mithest knew she was in really big trouble.

“Why were you in there, it’s for men only! I’ve been looking for you for a whole half hour!”

“I-I’m sorry.”

“Mithest, If men can’t go into the ladies rec. room then women can’t go into the men’s’. There must be standards to maintain. Punishments must go with the standards if they are broken. Mithest, as punishment you are to be turned mortal for a few days. It will not be permanent but it will teach you a lesson. Say good bye to your brother but tell him nothing in ten minutes meet me in my office.” As Basileke walked away she smirked to herself, she’ll not last a day.

Mithest was trembling as she walked to Zeke’s room. She entered his room; he was quite happy, he rose to meet her. She sat down and sighed.

“Zeke, I’ll be gone for a few days please don’t worry. I’ll be fine.”

Now Zeke looked worried, exactly what she wanted to avoid. Before he could speck she left. She didn’t even change into a dress she showed up at Basileke’s office. She knocked and heard an “enter” from within.

“Take my hand Mithest.” Mithest did as she was told she closed her eyes. All of the sudden she felt a slight chill and a strange smell she had never smelled before. She opened her eyes. Basileke had left her naked in the middle of a forest. Luckily it’s summer, thought sarcastically. She hoped no one was around this area. This was going to be strange, being a mortal. She got up and began to walk around to fin a place to sleep. She found a nice cave that she settled in after she got wood for a fire. Zeke had nicely taught her how to make fire. Once she was warm she wondered how long she was going to be like this. She then heard a growl behind her. It was an unusually large brown bear.

-Pop! Poppy

 

P.S. Vote or I won't post what I write.