Simple Stories Ideas Novels & Stories

"Like they don't fully sense you coming?" "Sadly, yes." "Wow!" She seemed fascinated, but I wanted to change the subject. "I feel a little behind, being totally new. Can you give me an idea of what stories you're working on? I'd like to know if my pitch is in the ballpark." "Uh," Stan said with his mouth full of some sort of oatmeal cereal. "Don't go crazy, whatever you do." "What do you mean?" "Newbies. They tend to come in and go all gung-ho, all guns firing, really aiming for it..."

And suddenly we’re being dragged toward the stairs like unwilling sacrifices. “Story time!” Nova declares in a sing-song voice, tugging me with shocking strength. “Two stories,” Nolan corrects, dead serious. “One because Grandma and Grandpa came, and another because they left.” That makes absolutely no sense but I’m not arguing with a five-year-old whose IQ is apparently higher than my own. “You can’t add stories because they left,” Nova argues. “Yes, I can.” “No, you can’t.” Nova snarls. An actual tiny snarl, before smoothing her hair and saying sweetly, “Fine. But what about adding one more because we were good the whole day?”

The night felt far longer than usual. I lay in my room, utterly consumed by a profound sense of boredom. To pass the time, I began fiddling with my phone, opening a folder in my cloud storage that contained drafts for an advertising competition proposal. I had been intentionally designing an ad concept with a humorous storyline. My theory was that a touch of humor could make a struggling product much more appealing to the masses. "This looks good enough. Should I ask for Jovanca’s opinion tomorrow? Ah, whatever, tomorrow it is," I murmured softly.

After a few moments, his brown eyes sparkled, indicating he already has a story in mind and was grinning wide. "I want to hear a new story, mama. Do you have a new stowies other than kings, magical crechor or pwinsesses? Like a real, real stowies?" His six-year-old self, speaking adorably making his mother smiled. She started to make a humming sound, looking up and thinking of a story that would be interesting enough for a boy his age. "Well, there is one that I've heard from your grandmother as a child. About a wolf and a witch. Would you like to hear them?"

And maybe in the end I'll succeed. The ideas have never stopped flowing, and amidst the difficulties, I've gathered them together to tell even more stories. I have a notebook full of ideas, story segments just waiting for the right piece to fit into. I've conceived many new universes. I have a love story planned that I hope will make your heart skip a beat, between two young people wounded by the world. A horror story that I hope will take your breath away, with its demons. A fantasy that I hope will transport you to a world of mysterious creatures and strange rites.

It's already noon. "UGH!!!" I groan while messing my head as I can't think of any to improve my work! Creating a happy ending is so hard for me as a tragedy writer! I need to have some ideas! I hurriedly stand up, open my vault, and look for a book that gives my idea a happy ending. Then it suddenly comes to my mind that I don't have any. All my books are mostly tragedy, horror, fantasy, and what he said is "Love Story." with a quotation.

“I believe in you but what’s important is do you believe in yourself?” “I do.” “That’s what matters. As long as you believe in yourself, everyone’s opinions don’t matter.” “Do you think so?” “I know so.” “I have written a lot of short stories which i haven’t shown to anyone.” “Really?” “Yes.” “I would love to read them.” “I’m excited about the new story i thought of.” “What is it about?” “It’s about the most notorious crime family in Zambia.” “That sounds interesting.” “I don’t know where the idea came from but each and every day, it grows stronger,” Ludo smiled.

"Uhm, you can still work on it, right? I mean it's okay but it's a little bit too plain if you'd ask me." "I still have time, the competition still has a year to prepare." It would be easier to write something based on real-life events since the contest's theme is about Real Life Story. "Why don't you just write something that's happening in your life? It would be easier that way." She's right but my story's a little too chaotic that I can't even put it in the right outline. "What's with your title? Why do I hate being in love?" Janine asked. That was my title because when I started crafting that, it was my bitterness era. I planned that one when I broke up with Ezicx, that was years ago and

There seemed to be some household items there, maybe some dishes or cookware, but it was difficult to tell from her vantage point. Suddenly her mind was filled with a story of a lonely, hardworking trapper who was forced by circumstance to live alone in the wilderness, trapping wild game in order to provide for his family. Shasta's lips curled into a secret smile. She'd add that to her growing list of story ideas. The thought had been brewing for some time to try her hand at screenwriting. Eddie had, of course, tried to discourage the idea. "Come on, doll, it's not as easy as you think it is."

Lucy inquired, making me drop the chicken in my hands. "You'll need a pen and a book to jot my story. It’s too long... ugh," I shook my head, feeling sorry for myself. "You can summarize it... just do it in a way I'll understand," Lucy suggested. "You know I'm stuck at summarizing," I pouted. "I know, but just try your best," Lucy encouraged. I tap my spoon on the table, "grum grum grum grum grum grum," as if I wanted to tell a super story, but the story of my life is more interesting than a super story.