The Big Blog Story, Chapter 19

By L.A. Weatherly

Having just read through the whole tale so far in one go, I am in awe. So this is what you get when you let twenty writers loose on the same story. Whoever said that you can’t write stories by committee…um, might have had a point. But only if you like your stories on the sane side.

Hope you enjoy the penultimate chapter!

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On the shores of Loch Ness, the characters stood a respectful distance away as they watched The Writer, seated moodily on a rock.

“What’s she doing now?” whispered Cynthia. Though extremely soggy, she was pleased to note that she was gleaming as prettily as ever, casting a shimmering reflection onto the dark water.

“Still eating the digestives,” said Catch as he inspected what was left of the submarine after its crash landing. Writers, he thought, kicking at a dent. I spent all afternoon building this thing, but does she care? No, just sends it hurtling off into the air like Frank L. Bloody Baum.

“Well, she seems to have been eating them for a very long time,” sniffed the German Chancellor, folding his arms over his chest. “She will get tubby.”

“She calls it her thinking time – claims it’s work,” commented the real Minnaloushe, grumpily picking fish scales from her hair. (She was released from the fish that had eaten her, mainly because The Writer had forgotten about this plot twist entirely.)

I’m so confused!! wailed Scribble on his pad. His too-Disney fur had vanished for good, leaving him small, blue and trembling. It got really weird for a while there, but now I’m back again – and what about all the dead plankton, anyway? Doesn’t anyone CARE?

“Well, what about me?” complained Luna. The statue had turned into a living human with long, flowing hair. “I was the perfect plot device, and I was just cast aside! Honestly, it’s like the woman’s been on speed recently.”

“Yes, and us,” said the mating kraken in unison. They waved their tentacles about to make their point, accidentally clouting one of the sheep and sending it baaing off into the distance. “A bit of krakenly hanky-panky, just to titillate readers? How wrong was that? We feel so used!”

“Definitely a red herring,” agreed Luna. “No offense to any herring who might be present,” she added to Breton.

The fish, who now found himself in a black-and-white striped shirt and French beret, glared at her. “I am not zee herring,” he said. “And you are a very silly girl-statue-thing.”

“By the way, hasn’t anyone noticed how pretty the moonlight on the water looks?” asked Cynthia casually, preening a little. “That’s all because of me, you know.”

“Oh, shut up,” snapped Luna. “Must you reinforce these stupid sexist stereotypes? But at least you’re not a brooding teenage boy with a mysterious secret,” she added to Scribble. “The Writer’s spared us that much, at least.”

The words seemed to hang in the air. Scribble blinked…and all at once, he felt himself start to change. He gazed down at his new reflection in the water in amazement. A pale and beautiful teenage boy, with moody eyes and pouting lips.

The other characters all stared at him.

“Oh, well that’s it, she’s completely lost the plot,” said Catch finally.

“On the contrary, I think you’ll find I’ve just found it,” announced The Writer, striding towards them with the empty digestives packet. “It’s so obvious – I’ve been writing in the wrong genre! Right, here’s the score – you and you have to have a mad, passionate romance.” She pointed at Scribble and Cynthia; they both recoiled, regarding the other with horror.

“But I don’t even like her,” said Scribble (who found he could now speak, but had a terrible feeling that it wouldn’t do him much good).

“But he used to be small and blue!” cried Cynthia at the same time.

“Don’t worry; it’s a doomed love,” The Writer consoled Cynthia. “Because we have to get you back up in the sky – and guess how we’re going to do it?” She beamed at her characters. They gazed back at her blankly, and she let out an irritated sigh. “Oh honestly, do I have to think of everything? Look!” She waved a small, wrapped package at them. “We have fireworks! And we’re standing on the shores of Loch Ness – the answer’s obvious!”

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Here’s your chance to catch up on the story so far:

8 September Bath Festival of Children’s Literature

10 September Robin Etherington

12 September Annabel Pitcher

14 September Paul Stewart and Chris Riddell

16 September Hannah Shaw

18 September Writing From the Tub

20 September Lauren Kate

22 September Marcus Sedgwick

24 September Alan Gibbons

26 September John Boyne