"I have something to tell you, and you won't like it."

The grandma hobbled into the throne room, looking like she belonged there, her cane patting against the tall grass. Birds flew overhead, and the sunlight tossed sunbeams across the king's kindly, wrinkled face and golden crown.

"What is your message, my lady?" The king asked.

The old woman bowed and pulled out her parchment. "My message is this: your kingdom Eldoria and the kingdom Rivenstone have been at odds too long. Here is the command..."

The princess burst into the room, her head adorned with white lilies to match her dress white with innocence. Her dark skin made the white dress like the brightest star in the night.

"Give us a moment, Zelia."

Zelia bowed. "Of course, but may I stay?"

The king looked at the old woman. "My message is not secret," she said.

"Continue your message, dear lady."

"Here is the command: the two must come together in peace, or they shall be destroyed in discord."

"Is there any explanation you can offer us, or any presentation you are waiting to give?"

The old woman bowed and presented her basket to the gray-bearded king. The petals were black. "Here is a signet, your majesty."

She pulled the silver signet from her olive petticoat pocket. It was shaped like a dagger.

The king looked at the signet, at his daughter Zelia, then at the old woman. "I cannot do this."

"But you must."

The world is full of writers writing about how to write, but are they right? (see what I did there?). I've read my share of terrible writing books, so I'll spare you those and give you the best ones I've found so far in my journey.

Here I will give you two highly recommended books about writing:

On Writing by Steven King, and The Elements of Style by Strunk and White

The Elements of Style by Strunk and White

In the introduction to On Writing, Steven King says, "One notable exception to the b*** rule is The Elements of Style, by William Strunk Jr. and E.B. White. There is little or no detectable [crap] in that book. (Of course, its short; at eighty-five pages it's much shorter than this one.) I'll tell you right now that every aspiring writer should read The Elements of Style. Rule 17 in the chapter titled Principles of Composition is "Omit needless words." I will try to do that here."

Succinct, short, cheap (I found it for a few dollars at a bookstore), accessible, relevant, and highly recommended.

It teaches grammar, structure, how to look for redundancy and unnecessary words, how to get ideas across, how to craft paragraphs, and more.

It is a no-nonsense, no-fluff guide to the keys of writing well.

On Writing by Steven King

This was first recommended to me by an editor, publisher, and author friend of mine a few years ago. It is part autobiography, part writing advice. It has interesting stories and is recommended by professionals everywhere (it is Stephen King after all).

"If you want to be a writer, you must do two things above all others: read a lot and write a lot. There's no way around these two things that I am aware of, no shortcut. (139)" - On Writing by Stephen King

"If you don't have time to read, you don't have the time (or the tools) to write. Simple as that (142)." - On Writing by Stephen King

As I discover more quality writing books, I will share them :)

Also, let me know if you want to see more content about writing well.

Eschew surplusage. - Mark Twain

Eliminate unnecessary words. There's no better way to say it.

The full Twain quote:

"The author should:

Say what he is proposing to say, not merely come near it.

Use the right word, not its second cousin.

Eschew surplusage.

Not omit necessary details.

Avoid slovenliness of form.

Use good grammar.

Employ a simple, straightforward style."

I figured I should post a writing tip, as promised. I will organize the lessons later on.

I wrote this for the fun of it and thought some of you might like it :)

Let's call this chapter 1

“I have something to tell you, but you won’t like it.”

A grandma hobbled into the throne room. She looked like a gardener grandma; flowered bonnet, long gray skirt, green petticoat. Her cane thumped the marble ground, the only sound but breathing in that hollow stone hall.

“Did you request entry?” The queen asked. She waved her hand in the dripping silvery dress, sparkling like moondust in the darkest night. Her pointed nose did not like the faint grassy stench of the old woman.

“How else would I get in?”

“What is your message. Be quick.”

“Quick?” The old woman leaned on her stick and chuckled. “Do you have somewhere to be? Are you late to you late to your date with the poor and sick? Is your husband dying of the plague?”

“Beware, old woman, your head is on the line,” Aelric, the prince, sat beside his mother in the same moondust black.

“Of course,” the old woman replied.

“Then give us your message, woman,” Aelric said.

“I prophesy from time to time, as your father would know, dear Aelric, though it seems others have forgotten,” she glared at the queen, “and in the past my inferences have been favorable. But now I have one sentence for you-”

“My, you are a slow one.” The queen’s eyes flickered.

“Slower with your interruptions.”

The queen stood up. “One more sarcastic comment and you shall never deliver your message, nor any message again.”

“I mean no ill will, your highness. My message is this:” the old woman pulled a crumpled half-sheet of parchment from her petal-filled basket and cleared her throat. “Hear, o king, what I will say. Your kingdom Rivenstone has been too long at odds with Eldoria. Here is the command…”

The queen rolled her eyes.

“...The two must come together in peace, or they shall be destroyed in discord.”

“How will you prove this?”

“Have I ever been wrong?” The grandma dumped her basket of white petals on the floor and left. Aelric wondered why the queen did not incarcerate her for her impudent words.

“What will you do, my queen?” Aelric asked his mother.

“Nothing.” The queen rose.

“But she said we’ll be destroyed.”

“She is a loon.”

“Yes, my queen,”

The queen left the throne room, the thin train of her black dress looking gray and twinkling. But Aelric stayed behind. Afraid to touch the petals in case of some poison or trickery, he looked on from his seat. “Guard, what is that gold piece there? And give me the parchment.”

The guard gave the parchment to the black-haired prince and handed him a golden leaf. Aelric looked at the golden signet, thin as a real leaf but undoubtedly real gold. The gold felt green. It wasn’t green; it felt green. Aelrich tucked it in the pocket of his black coat.

Five not-so-bright Englishmen stand on a hill talking to the Nazis (who the Englishmen think are British)

The general huffed. “I zaid, do you zink we are British?”

“I mean, who else could you be?”

“We are ZE Nazis,” he spit.

“If you’re not zees, then what are you?” Tommy asked.

The General looked at his captain, who looked at him, who looked back at Tommy.

“What?”

“What are you if you’re not Z’s?”

“WE ARE ZE GERMANS.”

“Ohh, you're... our enemies?”

“Zyes.”

“Eh, at least you’re not French.”

A fedora wear’n adventure lov’n lady wand’rin free.

She rides about through cities and towns

Looking for you and me.

She rides up hills and right through dales,

Whenever she sees someone she hails.

The world is large and full of glee,

She is whatever she wants to be.

A fedora wear’n adventure lov’n lady wand’rin free.

Her cowboy hat in Mexico turns quickly to a sombrero,

It’s where she wants to be.

Turnin' round and round and round again,

A sheriff for you and me,

A singer on a darkened stage,

She loves to laugh and shout and play,

A Ballerina for a day,

When all see her they shout, “Hurray!

Let’s see it again. Don’t go away!”

Round and round and round again,

A spaceship full of light.

She leaps around a String of Pearls,

And sings to In the Heights

Whirlin’ swirlin’ twirlin’,

Again and with a grin.

She’s come to meet so many friends,

They’ll be with her until the end,

And on them all she will depend,

And you can bet she will extend

Her friendship down to thee,

That fedora wear’n adventure lov’n lady wandrin’ free.

She’ll tell you oh so many things,

Until your ears begin to ring;

She’s passionate for the little things,

All seasons to her are like the Spring,

That fedora wear’n adventure lov’n lady wandrin’ free.

Her desire is for you to come along

To bring you near,

Show what is dear,

To paint a picture,

And make it clear.

She wants you to know,

She wants you to see,

The whole wide world,

“just for you and we”.

That fedora wear’n adventure lov’n lady wandrin’ free.

Leap up little one!

Leap up old one!

To gallop on her horse.

Ride through sunset,

Go far beyond,

Till all you know is long far gone.

Come see her world beyond the sky,

As far as your imagination will fly.

That fedora wear’n adventure lov’n lady wand’rin free

Your cowboy hat in Mexico turns quickly to a sombrero,

If that’s where you want to be.

The Fedora Wearin' Adventure Lovin' Lady Wandrin' Free represents the limitless possibilities and beauty of imagination. She rides around through cities and towns looking to share her adventures with you and me, that Fedora Wearin' Adventure Lovin' Lady Wandrin' free. Thanks for reading!

I'm ready to leave,

but I'm not.

I'm ready to be done with lasts,

And ready find new firsts.

I'm ready to leave,

but I'm not.

If it weren't for the band,

I would leave without tears,

Only sad to leave my friends,

And mourn for my childhood.

If it weren't for band,

I would leave without tears,

But now I can’t help but cry.

Our last concert is tonight.

I cried for the end of marching,

With hope of the fun year to come,

But now that year is over,

I realize my whole life,

I’ve looked forward this,

And now that it’s here,

I want to go back.

Soon I'll have my first game with the Tiger marching band,

In a land far from home.

Soon I'll have my first concert in the orchestra,

As one of their only oboes.

But before I know it,

I'll mourn my tiger marching band,

And give my last concert in the orchestra.

I’ll be ready to leave,

But not,

Thinking that if it weren’t for the band,

I would leave without tears.

Oh how time flies by,

And we are powerless to catch it!

I'll think to where it all started,

In my own dear high school band,

That I tearfully leave today,

That will never be the same again.

I'm ready to leave,

but I'm really not.

I'm ready to be done with lasts,

And ready to find new firsts.

I'm ready to leave,

but I'm not.