creative writing

I have been planning on a storyline for a book for quite some time now. Then, I decided to get started and write a paragraph:

\begin{document}
They were passing the imaginary line that divided french ocean from international waters unnoticed; noone started to cheer or applaud, in fact, the only one who took note of that moment was Steve Moore, silently watching a computer monitor on the bridge. He was a short man in his late thirties, his dark hair retreating, wearing a dark blue business suit minus jacket and tie. When the arrow of the ship passed the line, he smiled. Here, he was free. Free from the paper-pushers and their regulations. Free to push the boundaries of scientific research as far as possible, without restraints. There whould still be people to lecture him on what he ought not to do, but here, he didn't have to listen.

He remembered the negotiations, the discussions he had with countless people representing countless businesses; pharma corporations, genetic and medical research facilities, manufacturers of laboratory equipment and many people who simply had money and the determination to turn it into more money. It wasn't easy to persuade them, in some cases, he didn't get what he wanted. But he got enough to buy this old container ship [data on ship here] and reshape its interiour into laboratories with the best equipment and every thinkable precaution to work with infectious diseases of all sorts, much safer in fact as most nations regulations whould require. This was a long-term investment, he had argued, it will be worth the money it cost. With the same argument he defended the design of the living space, two rows of of eight transport container stacks on deck, refurbished into appartments, with large windows facing the ocean. No salary could make a top scientist live in windowless bunks for months and years. Maybe the promise of unrestricted research could, but the stacks had the advantage that they could be topped up if needed.

Moore turned to the Craig Webber, the ship's captain [description here] who was already busy giving orders to his crew. When the engines stopped, everyone on board noticed the sudden lack of background humming and vibrating.
\end{document}

After this I realised how little I thought about the little details. So, I read myself through
www.how-to-write-a-book-now.com

After thinking of a good way to train my writing style, I realise that my brain comes up with crazy creative stuff every other night, so I decided to change my neutral, boring dream log and write them down more lively, maybe add or edit some stuff. First results:

\paragraph{25.09.12}
In the ruins of an old castle, me and several hired goons were completing the task of resurrecting a vampire. His written instructions included the location of three silver knives that never saw the light of the day, hidden in a wooden box inside the castle ruins. With theese knives, a virgin was to be sacrificed and her blood spread on the vampires coffin. I placed the knives next to the coffin, but a large creature jumped out of the shades and knocked the knives into the sunlight. I fought the beast throughout the castle grounds and finally shoved it down the tower. Soon, the goons were returning, with the bad news of not having found a virgin to sacrifice. Instead, I settled on a piece of bloody steak, its lifejuice pressed out and spread on the coffin with a silver spoon from the castle kitchen. It still worked, and the vampire was all too pleased with his regained strength as to punish us for our incompetence to follow his instructions.

Me and two of my travelmates were driving out of Auckland to find an event somewhere in the outskirts. We failed to find it, and I embarked on foot back to the city. Instead of taking the highway we came, I took a smaller street, trusting my sense of orientation to guide me back to Auckland. I was tired, and may have taken a wrong turn once or twice, but finally found a small town, with a decor like modern designers wanted it to look like a wild west settlement. Upon closer inspection, I found that the whole town was actually an amusement park. I looked at the park map to find my way back to Auckland, failing to see the fun in a house composed entirely of slides, a cliff to climb, and caves filled with sand to crawl through. I had to take the way through the caves, but merely saw the sand and the other kids as an inconvenience on my way.

\paragraph{27.09.12}
The corridor maze was huge. The narrow corridors were the brightest white, intersecting each other every other step; and between intersections, doorways led to stairways up and down a level, to identical corridor grids. Our group of three was hurrying around, not knowing where we were going. My colleague and I were constantly but fruitlessly trying to keep ahead and behind the princess to protect her from any hazard this maze might hold. Instead of ordering us where to go, she went ahead herself.

Our mission, to find and defeat the ten bosses, was going rather slow, we had not encounterd any of them, or anything else, for that matter. After wandering for a while, I found a piece of orange chalk and began to mark the intersections we were taking. It didn't take long to find out that we were running in circles; I persuaded the princess to turn back to another part of the level, out of the white maze. My argument was that the first boss had to be in an earlyer part of the level. Luckily, she agreed.

We climbed up every stairway we could find and soon, we were at the bottom of a high room, like a rocket silo. I climbed up a small balcony that was one level above the floor, where I found a portrait of Motivation, depicted by Alan Rickman. "Hey, look at this", I shouted, "some kind of easter egg!" When I turned to jump down the other side, I saw Motivation himself sitting at a small table in a comfortable chair, drinking tea. He smiled at me. "You've remembered what you came for. The bosses." "Yes", I replied, "but we are far behind the others already!" Motivation chuckled. "Don't think that you are the only party with problems. You found your focus, that takes you far ahead of some of the others already!" "So, we do have a chance?" "Quite so", Motivation answered in Alan Rickman's rich, dark voice, "You have found focus and... Motivation". He smiled and waved at me. "I can only get you so far. I can throw the dice for you, so to speak, but you have to move your piece yourself. Understand?" I nodded and turned to the handrail of the balcony. Before I jumped down to the others, I looked back, but he was gone, of course. With his words in mind, I led the others back to the entry of the level to start the search over.