Austen (Age 35): Welcome, my dear readers. My illustrious authorial career has its roots in the romantic realist tradition of...
Austen (Age 10): Shut the hell up - I was writing before you could even spell "pretenshun." Let me show you some of the great shit I wrote in Year 5. Its fucking aces.
Austen (Age 23): I think I better act as an editor - at the very least to remove all the profanity. I'm pretty sure I didn't even know what most of those curse words even meant.
Austen (Age 10): Whatever. I grew up on the streets, bitch.
Austen (Age 23): That's not even remotely true.
Austen (Age 10): [Unpublishable]
Austen (Age 35): Seriously 23-year old Austen, stop being such an [unpublishable] and show the damn story.
Austen (Age 23): Without further ado:
Portal to Lorrad
"Slight chance of earthquake," that's what it said on T.V. [Said no one on television ever] [I'll fight you] Now after the 7.8, the nearby volcano had begun erupting. My cat, Tiger, and I were running down the main street away from the lava. Suddenly we had to stop! There was a deep crack in the ground, and I saw a blue-green glow towards the bottom. I turned around and, seeing that there was no other choice, I leaped off the edge, and was engulfed by darkness... [Hold up you daffy old man, this is the first draft - if you insist on mocking my writing at least mock the right version] [Fine, we'll start again]
As Patrick tramped through the tall grass, he thought again why he was doing this. He had been dared by his friends to take a picture of the pond in the middle of the supposedly haunted grove. He passed through the ring of trees and saw the pond. [You actually have no idea what a grove is, do you?] [I do too - apparently I grove up into an insufferable [unpublishable] - how's that for use in a sentence? Dick.]
"All I have to do is take a picture," he thought, but something about the pond - perhaps the stillness, or maybe a slight feel of magic in the air - made him go in closer for a better look. As he peered into the un-rippling waters he thought he saw the slight outline of an island.
Patrick leaned in closer. Suddenly, it was as if an invisible hand pushed him. He tumbled forward and landed in the water with a spalsh [Spalsh? Seriously? Even I know how to spell that] . He tried to swim to the surface, but it seemed as though he was made of lead! He sank deeper and was engulfed in darkness.
When Patrick opened his eyes he found himself lying on a beach. He tried to move, but as soon as he stood up a shooting pain went through his body and he collapsed to the sand, and fell into a deep sleep. [Not every scene has to end with your protagonist blacking out, you know] [Shut up and finish the story] [That's all you wrote! The rest is just a list of characters and synopsis of the unfinished first chapter!]
Austen (Age 10): Seriously? You never even finished it? What about Niksor the Froggle? Frax the Lizard-Man!? HIGGLE THE GOOD WIZARD!!? I give you literary gold and you just squander it. What a dumbass. I'm gonna go play Pokemon. Peace.
Austen (Age 35): I wrote a novel! Didn't have much to do with this story though.
Austen (Age 23): We'll just see about that. You don't own me, future me.
Austen (Age 35): Whatever, I'm gonna go play Pokemon. Peace.
Austen (Age 23): ... I guess that's all for this week, dear readers. Next time, my Misadventures on Mars!