₦airaland Forum

"It is not necessary for fingers to look alike, but its necessary for them to cooperate".

A drama script is very interesting to read
and most people enjoy reading them.

Writing a script is a complicated process and
varies depending upon what type of script you are
writing. However, the key components to include in
a dramatic script are character outlines,plot/set
instructions, and the actual play/dialogue.

Hallo drama lovers, come in and let's educate ourselves in the phenomena genre of literature.

It's high time I uplift this thread.....

LarrySun: I'll gladly help if I can.

This is to tell every writer giving lectures the workshop that I've volunteered to become your nemesis. So, you should write something you're willing to accurately defend or I would crucify you with questions. You are warned! And those of you who would be writing about 'Grammar', you better be grammatically upright, or else...

Oh, this will be fun, fun, fun!

hahahahaha...I'm a questionnaire and a defender, you should prepare yourself too.

I'm always a fan of plays/ drama. Nice story but I have problems with ur structure.

Noble cares

kip it up Bro...following.

whitemosquito: So, I had to take time out to sort this once and for all.. Because, I've noticed that a lot of Nl writers stick strictly to the first person dialogue, even when its obvious [to me, anyway] that their story would be better told in the third person.
And may also be why most readers find my writing style strange.
Why do you think you enjoy some stories more than others? Its way more than mere storyline;I've always maintained that there is no new story under the sun. It has EVERYTHING to do with how engaged the writer made you feel- which is a function of the NARRATIVE.
Hopefully, this should clear all doubts and misgivings:

There are many points of view for a writer to choose from, and each has different problems, responsibilities and effects. The available points of view are first, second and third person.
The First Person
First of all, you need to decide how this story is being told. Is the character writing it down? Telling it out loud? Thinking it to their self? And if they are writing it down, is it something meant to be read by the public? Or is it a private diary? A story meant for one other person? The way the first person narrator is relating the story will affect how you write it, the language you choose, the length of your sentences, your tone of voice and many other things. The reader should have at least some sense of this as well. The way they interpret a story could be very different if it is told as a secret diary or if it is a public statement.

Another aspect to think about is how much time has elapsed between when the character experienced the events of the story and when they decided to tell them. If only a few days have passed, the story could be related very differently than if the character was reflecting on events of the distant past. Also think about why the character is telling the story. What is their motivation? Are they just trying to clear up events for their own peace of mind? Make a confession about a wrong they did? The reason why a story is told will also affect how it is written, and you at least should know the answer, even if it never makes its way into the text. And not only Why? but Why now?

A first person narrative is often more effective when it is a first person narrator telling someone else's story (in other words, when the narrator is not the main character). This allows a certain distance between the narrator and the events which is impossible for the main character. On the other hand, the inability to see the bigger picture can sometimes be exploited to good effect.

First Person Protagonist: For this point of view, a character relates events that occurred to them; the "I" is the main character, telling her or his own story.
E.g
My stomach rumbled from the sour 'moimoi' I had at my CDS dinner early in the evening. It had seemed like a good idea at the time even though I suspected the meal had spent way too much time in the cooler or had been exposed to air without proper preservation. - culled from 'She came with Hope' by White Mosquito.

First Person Witness: The story of the main character is told by another character observing the events.
Her stomach rumbled from the sour 'moimoi' she had at her CDS dinner early in the evening. She had thought it a good idea at the time, even though she suspected that the meal.....

First Person Re-teller: The story is told, not by a witness to the events, but by someone who has heard the story from yet another person.

Her stomach rumbled; I don't know why; it probably was the sour 'moimoi' she had at her CDS dinner early in the evening. You know how sometimes you decide to risk eating something even when you should know better. She had thought it a good idea at the time, even though she suspected that the meal....


The Third Person
Characters are referred to as "he" and "she" in third person. In this case the narrator (who may be indistinguishable from the author) is not a character in the story. Depending on the type of third person point of view, the narrator may know -- and be able to tell about -- the thoughts and feelings of all characters, or only one character, or they may only be able to report what is seen or heard.
Sometimes a third person narrator requires the reader to accept the narrator's authority, which they may be hesitant to do. Just because a narrator sounds like they know it all, doesn't mean they do. This may be why the first person point of view has become more and more popular -- it can be harder to get the reader to identify with a nameless, third person teller. However, third person narration is very flexible and should not be discarded without thought. It is still the most common point of view, and for good reason.

When a writer is turning personal experiences into fiction, it is often easier to write in third person (even if they intend to put the final draft in first person). This is because the third person distances the reader (and the writer) from events. It is easier to write about personal things when you write as if they are happening to someone else. It is also easier to change events -- often necessary to turn reality into fiction -- when you aren't claiming that it was you who experienced them.

Third Person Omniscient: The narrator knows everything; all thoughts, feelings, and actions may be related to the reader (or they may be withheld).

Her stomach rumbled. She had sour 'moimoi' earlier in the evening at her CDS dinner. She had struggled within herself, she suspected that the meal had spent way too much time outside the cooler, exposed without proper preservation. She argued that she ought to eat it after all it was her money's worth. You know how it feels to cough up the compulsory fee for those blasted Corper events. But it looked good. Just eat it now and suffer later. You know you don't have food in the house. I don't care. Yes you do..

Third Person Objective: The narrator can only relate to the reader what is seen or heard. A good writer can tell a completely objective story in such a way that the reader is able to determine the feelings and sometimes even the thoughts of the characters through what those characters say and do, even though the thoughts and feelings are never described.

Her stomach rumbled throughout the night. She kn ew it was the sour 'moimoi' from her CDS dinner earlier that evening. So she swore. "Dammn it," she said. "I should never have discredited my better judgement." You see, she had suspected it was stale when she caught a whiff of the meal as it was served her. She was so sure it had spent a considerable amount of time outside the cooler without proper preservation..

Third Person Limited: The narrator is able to see into the mind of a single character. Sometimes the point of view may zoom in so close to that character that the narrator begins to use that character's manner of speech and thought, and sometimes the narrator may step back to take a more objective view. This point of view is sort of the "default" in fiction -- it is the most common because it can be used the most effectively in the majority of situations. If there is no reason not to use a third person limited point of view, then it is probably the best choice (but you will find it useful to experiment before choosing the point of view for any given story; third person limited may often work, but it isn't always the best point of view. Don't be afraid to use other points of view, just make sure you have a reason for your choice). In longer forms like novels, third person limited can be made even more effective by changing the character that the point of view is limited to. You must always be sure the reader knows when you have switched points of view and who you have changed to, however. If you are going to use shifting third person points of view, it is often best to change at a chapter or section break, at least until you are proficient enough at it that you won't lose your reader.

Her stomach was rumbling throughout the night. She glanced at her watch. It was already half past eleven. "Dammn that moimoi," she said, thinking of how hungry she had been at her CDS dinner earlier that evening. She had argued with herself for an hour about whether she should eat it. She had coughed up the entire fee charged each corper by the Cds, so she was determined to have her money's worth. Even though she suspected the meal had spent way too much time outside the cooler, without proper preservation..

Se-eth thou now? And doth thou understand?

From the illustrations, you see why I choose to write in the Third person. It's just so much more liberating..


Princesa and Larry, clap for ya selves o. You made me do this research instead of updating..and now Nepa has taken light, my wireless connection is interrupted; come 7:30, my brother will take his laptop with him to work and I shan't update with my phone because it's too cumbersome! and expensive!

Hmm! so educative... tanks 4 sharing

Divepen: As for the word limit, there will be a small trouble ooo...Lol
I've told some of them to write as much as they can, as everybody will be getting an hour each to themselve....
I thought, since it is a workshop, many people will want to sacrifice their time to read and learn. But, who knows, I might be wrong, so let us hear from other contributors.

Let the contributors write as many words as they can, forget about word limit.

.......

Wow here is beautiful ...wazup Audrey its my first time here. No doubt, you are magnificent... Roll up da good work.

Noble cares

" When a hunter sets a trap using a goat as bait, he does not expect to catch a rabbit".

All I can say is I'm optimistic. Good 1 Bro.

Noble cares

NARRATIVE POEM

Title: You are my Rose

style: blank verse with simple language .

Stanzas: Three quatrain and Two tercet.



The world gave birth to beautiful roses
Those, with different mission
I rang around the garden
Aw! was hard to have one.

The sun so bright
That blooded me
Never relent even I lost my shoes.

I was in thought, that rip my heart
Then, I realized there was raindrops
Flowing through my eyes.

With the coat of courage
I walk along the desert
sail through the ocean
searching for my rose.

Fortunately, I found her
As beautiful as an angel
As gentle as a dove
As kind as a mother.

You are my Rose


Who can translate above poem?

a, The theme

b, Figure of speech

c Appreciation (each stanzas).


It will be fun friends.....

Hahahahaha so dis thread has resurrected. I remember those days I use to write primary school poems...but now Noble is a big boy.

@Taiwo notin do u

overhypedsteve: Avast oh! valiants
you were born in a dusty field,
you were weaned in a desert storm,
now be gone like the desert fox.

Avast! Oh valiants,
their gunnery is a thing for humour,
we re here and though earth tremor,
we will dig through the devils defence.

Avast oh! valiants,
sun worshipers of the Sahara,
death lives in the vast wasteland of sambisa,
there is fire in the air you breath.

Avast oh valiants
through the swamps,
through their evil camps.
Keep them falling in their ranks.

Avast oh valiants
there is a music din in hell,
hell's demons will fear your stories,
and make you sit by hades side.

Avast oh valiants
run straight through the devils ambush,
make your prints firm in the sand,
for tomorrow a son will follow.

Avast our valiants,
we're not done here,
every hero has his day,
so i wont encroach upon another's

Avast oh valiants,
amidst the rhythm of rattling guns,
amidst the cry of dying men,
you end the days of a bastard son,
and let the devil welcome home his lost prodigal.

Wow...dis is awesome. I'm so touched with da poem dat makes me cry.

Hallo Tiffany...u r doing a good job here...thumbs up.

Noble cares

daveP: Noble, watsup. Rapmike don steal my lines. Yeah just do exactly wat he says. And erm..... Wat else.







Will let u know

Oga daveP notin do u

Thanks my Bosses, I bow...I shall decorate dis thread with update soon.

Noble cares

rapmike: People will show up, just keep updating your story.

Oya Bro just pray for dis thread

Divepen: oga... I really need your email address for somethhin great. someone liKe Davep can attest to it..

Alryt Bro Inuwaslove@gmail.com

Holla my Noble readers... Seriously, i don't like how dis thread is moving, like snail, so so sad...well, na me cause am.

I have little gist 4 u ...I've started my PPA and na teaching level ooo. Chai dat place is underdevelop, Roads and accommodations na haba... Though, I'm enjoying da place shaaaa. Secondary schools r suppose to resume next week but they've started their curriculum, I wonder if they r using 9ja syllabus .so far, I've bin enjoying myself with free food and bribes from the students ...all they want is good grades... Dem no knw say me be sharp guy, dey load the nairas inside my account...dem fellow corpers dey hail.Lot of gist dey, but till later when I'm free.

God bless u all...

Oya make I call my Bosses and Madams in HD level...make una bless dis thread for me.

Tag: SammyHoe,Divepen, kingphilip,davep, princeadepoju, TiffanyJ, princesa, rapmike, Royver,Temitipe Daniel,Nairaland writers in general and all my efamily members ( cheriepet, charieje & co).

Noble cares

Who wrote "Road to fame"?

Tag: ........

Hmmm most nairalanders have no regard for drama. I'm a play write, and I hope it works...nyc 1

Noble cares

SammyHoe: Pls tell me how to make it beta joor...it's not too nice to my taste

Xup Bro, words are part of the styles in the work of poetry, you choosed to write in plain English and I see no ill about that. Try out other strategical patterns in poetry like using achaic words and applying oxymoron, onomatopoeia, simile and even hyperbole. I think you should make use of your dexterity and creativity in the appreciation of poetry. All I can say is, keep on writing them.

Noble cares

ayers11: BABA NI JIGI "Tales Of A Coloured Girl".

My father never smiled. He was a disciplinarian. We called him "Baba mi". He never wanted us running around the house. We were always in our room.
A very small room.
Baba mi was not the man in the mirror.
The man in the mirror had the face of a gentle and kind man. The man in the mirror always had a warm smile. The man in the mirror was a good man. The man in the mirror was handsome. The man in the mirror was a good father. The world only saw the man in the mirror.
The man in the mirror...
Baba mi was not the man in the mirror.
Baba mi was a gentle monster. He was a discplinarian. He was never concerned. He was that man that would ask for the other 20 percent if you scored 80 percent in your exams. He was that man that never wished you a happy birthday. He was bitter, not bitter like the cola nut. He was that kind of bitter that lingered on your tongue when you drink water after eating a pineapple. He was a complete stranger to the man in the mirror.
How was he so different from the man in the mirror ??
It was a mystery.
*
We only came out when he had to lash out butts. He said it was a reminder.
Reminder for what ?? He never told us.
My name is Kofo Ajani. My younger brother is Jinadu Ajani.
We lived in lagos.
Mushin Olosha, Lagos.
Our house was a two bedroom flat. We hardly came out of the house. Baba mi never wanted us going out, he employed an home tutor for us. We only went out of the house when it was necessary.
All we knew about the world was revealed to us by Mr Isqilu, our home tutor. He was a different man from Baba mi. He was kind and gentle, he never lashed our butts. He always had goodies for us. He was a good man.
Today is monday,
Baba mi never went to work on mondays. That was strange. Mr isqilu had told us that monday was the most important working day in the week. If you had to stay away from your workplace for any reason, it shouldn't be on a monday. Baba mi is a strange man, I wonder where he works.
I was lost in my thoughts...
Kofooooo !!!!
The voice was loud and distant. I wonder how he did that. Baba mi was calling, I raced to his room.
His head was buried deep in a newspaper. It was Alawiye. A Yoruba gossip paper. The sun shined on his head, I could see strands of grey. The man was getting old.
He wanted a cup of lipton. I headed to the kitchen.
Panic stricken.
Why did he do that? It was not necessary. We were good children. We never disobeyed him. We never told lies. He was just a wicked man. A wicked and lonely man who took out his frustrations on his children.
Thank God our thoughts were private. He would have killed us a long time ago.
He was going to lash our butts after he had the cup of lipton. That was his daily routine.
I dropped the hot cup of lipton on a stool beside him. I hurried out of the room and went to Jinadus room.
"Jina Jina" that was what I called him, he never liked the name, but I never stopped calling.
" You had better get out of bed and come for todays lashes, Baba mi is having is lipton now, and you know what follows after that."
I pitied Jinadu, he was just 8, he shouldn't have to be subjected to unnecessary lashes of "Pankere"
One day I promise, one day I will put an end to all of this.
"Oya get up and let us go before Baba mi calls, you know how terrible that can be"
He was still turning and tossing. I carried him. We made for Baba mi's room."
Jinadu had a small frame, so it was easy to carry him.

Paarh, Paarh, Paarh, Paarh, Paarh, Paarh. Paarh, Paarh, Paarh, Paarh...
It was six lashes for me, and four lashes for Jinadu.
I had gotten used to it already, for 13 years of my life the pankere had been a loyal punisher. I didn't see any need to shed tears again.
For Jinadu, it was a different story.
There's only one abbreviation to capture my reactions to his display of emotions.
L.O.L -Laugh Out Loud.
Mr isqilu used it whenever he wanted to express laughter when he was chatting on his blackberry.
One day I will own a blackberry.
*******
"Amrica"
No, its A-M-E-R-I-C-A,
Repeat after me,
"Amewica"
Jinadu, its A-M-E-R-I-C-A and not what you are calling it. Repeat it for the last time.
"Amewica"
Ok, we will continue from here tomorow. Make sure you read the passage on "Public Opinion"
Yes sir,
Jinadu had finished his session with Mr Isqilu. It was my turn.
I had an opinion about why my younger brother could not pronounce "America", I decided to tell Mr Isqilu.
" Mr isqilu, I think Jinadu has R-factor" he cannot pronounce the letter R.
Mr isqilu agreed with me, I felt like an "Efiwe" but then, he went further to explain.
He talked about Linguistics. He talked about an international phonetic alphabet chart. He talked about the place and manner of articulation.
I always enjoyed his lessons, even when I didn't understand what he was saying.
Amewica..
Baba mi had told us that maami travelled to America and would not be back in a long time.
I miss maami.
I wonder if she still remembers us, she never calls.
Would I even recognize maami if I saw her ?
I wondered.
Mr isqilu rounded up his session with me talking about menstration. He said I was going to experience it.
I wanted to ask questions,
Why would I bleed?
How long was I goin to bleed for?
What are ovaries and eggs?
So many questions, but Mr isqilu had other pressing issues to attend to, he promised to answer my questions the next day.
****
The room was dark and big. It was endless.
I was running out of breath, it was still chasing me, I wanted to scream, but I felt a big lump in my throat .
I stopped to catch my breath.
Oh my goodness, is this the end?
It was catching up with me, I started running again with double speed.
How come there was no one around to help me,
Where is Baba mi?
Where is Jinadu?
I kept on running, I was getting tired.
I was loosing hope, the life was slipping out of me...
I said a little prayer.
Dear God, forgive my sins.
Bless "Baba mi".
Give Jinadu strength to endure Baba mi's lashes.
Open the gates of heaven for me.
Amen... My eyes remained closed.
Suddenly!, I heard a voice.
It was loud and distant! I wanted to open my eyes, but the strong rays of bright light that hit my pupils made me close them slightly.
I could see a very bright light ahead, it reflected from a man in white,
The light was so bright and blinding.
The man was moving closer, the light was shining brighter
he called my name
"Kofoooooo"
He was my saviour. He was the son of God.
He held out his hand, I reached for it.
I was going to heaven.
"Paargh, Paargh, Paargh"
The sharp pain from Baba Mi's Pankere brought me back to the world of the living.
I coiled into a tight knot and screamed with all my strength.
It was the first time in years that the Pankere would put my lips apart.
I was dreaming the whole while, and Baba mi was the man in my dream. I managed a silent laugh.
" I'm off to work " he said, as he walked out of the room.
I was about to get out of bed when I felt a sickening moist in my pant.
My hands probed the area.
I thought I had bed-wetted.
I was wrong. I stopped wetting the bed a long time ago.
This was a different moist, it was a red one.
I was bleeding.
"No more pankere from Baba mi, no more lashes."
I'm going to fight back if he tries to...
I'm going to protect Jinadu.
I just became a woman!
To be continued.
Written By : Odutuyo Adeyinka Sasa-Eniyan.

Wow dis is beautiful....kip it coming Bro

SammyHoe: Song Of The Prodigal Son

A little more of you let me see
Hide not your light from my path
Your love like rogue on my cheeks
A glowing splinter on the wood

My love, my life, my one and only
Walk not away from my pleas
My sins to you I have lain
On the altar before the isle

Take me in and wash me white
Take me up to greater height
Tell me your love for me is high
A prodigal son is back at last

A lyric poem written in blank verse. Three quatrains....nyc1