Chilly Chilly Weather

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books, career, changes, chapter 3, climate, college, literature, school, textbooks, update, work

That, of course, being an understatement. It is bloody cold and dry! However, here in the heart of winter, I have found solace in the confines of home and school. At home, I sit by a cheery fire burning in the fireplace or at my writing desk, wrapped in my sweatpants and sweatshirt, working with a mug of coffee by my side. It’s the kind of weather that has inspired poets and writers through the ages of whom all have written of their pleasure near a similar source of warmth in the harsh grip of a tantrum that nature calls winter. Melancholy is a great motivator for inspiration, a way of stimulating the mind and calling forth words that have proven useful for writers of all fields and degrees of age. This day is no different in everything but time; it is the same day that many writers have poured their heart’s blood on the page to express what lies within. That, however, is not what I am going to be speaking of today. This is going to be more of an arrangement of thoughts and new and old situations that have come upon me and demanded my life’s attention.

My studies are going well, though they demand most of my time, and so hopefully my absence here has not been noted too much. I still wish to share experiences and thoughts, as well as things that I write (a number of which I have not posted) as I grow further along in my future. So don’t fret in regard to that! More writing is to come, and this blog will become more than a simple diary.

My job at the bookstore remains ever a pleasure and I think that I have found a niche in the routine of the clockwork of the store. Being a book person, helping book people, talking of books with book lovers, is a constant joy and one that I wish to continue here in the future.

However, there are a few things that I am praying about to which I would greatly appreciate similar responses concerning my education and future career. Some things may be changing, though at the moment, they will remain unspoken of.

So, here in the warmth of my college hall, as I am typing this, waiting for another class to begin, another instruction to receive to further my knowledge, I am going to end this post. I will post the next part of Shattered here in the next few days. It will be the first part of chapter 3, though I have already started the fifth chapter. Perhaps it will be of some delight to you all! Have a wonderful day and don’t let Jack Frost take off with any bits of your ears or rosy nose.

Word Quantity or Word Quality?

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culture, dead dreamer, funny phrases, ink, literature, meaningful words, paper, patience, pen, pencil, quality, time, time and patience, word counts, words, Writing

It’s something that I’ve been noticing among a lot of writers. Not so much in books as on blogging websites and forums when they discuss their “writing”. (Which we never see). Many of them seem more concerned about getting a ton of words on the page than they do about making the words count toward a wonderfully told story.

“Just get the first draft down!” They seem to say. Their pen quivers in their hands as they scribble down the next sentence which contains the same words and funny phrases that they used a couple pages ago. “It’ll be a kick!” They aspire, but rarely do they seem to accomplish.

Such is the path of a dead dreamer.

So many writers dream. I respect their dreams, their wishes, but it’s a lack of drive and passion that keeps them from reaching their goals. Sacrifice is an element that I’ve been discovering and some of that sacrifice means time and patience. Taking lots of time to write down the perfect phrase, and having the patience to find the perfect word. The right sentence can mean the difference between making a reader cry out in anguish for a character, or them setting the book down because they found it too poorly drawn.

I do not mean to say that I am a perfect writer, but I have been trying to eradicate those untimely words and phrases from my writing. To keep myself from putting something on the paper that will be “good enough” until I revise it months later. It’s hard, it requires thought and more time that I am really comfortable with, but I have been starting to be happier with my writing because of it. I do not restrict myself to word counts. If I get 2000 words down in a day, and that was all I was trying to do, then fine, that goal was accomplished. But if I get 1000 passionate and meaningful words down, then that is far, far better than any word count will ever be.

Our culture revolves around pushing things out so quickly that we have lost the reality of quality. Do not become the next cliche, make every word count so that when you have a finished product, it won’t be “good enough” but will instead be something to remember. Quantity is not quality, and quantity will not by cherished like like quality will. Glass is pretty, but it is the diamond that stands the test of time.

Time For Writing

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3, author, book, business, chapter, chapter3, fingers, literature, long time, pages, tea, words, wrath, Writing

Pages spread out for effect.

 

So I’m writing the next chapter in my book! That there is my outline and about seven or eight pages of writing. Took me about an hour and a half, so, not too bad! The story is moving along, and now that finals are almost over, I have been indulging myself in some writing that I have been meaning to do for a long time. My fingers and mind were beginning to itch!

Ahhh…tea is nice, words are good, writing on.

Wrath, my friend, we will save you.

If You Had Some Advice For A New Writer, What Would It Be?

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advice, advise, dedication, literature, message, messages, rainy day, typewriter, words, Writing

If I were the one giving advice, I would be telling new writers to keep going, no matter what. However, I would pause and think that that sort of thinking would then seem petty when shined in the real light of life. Because no one ever really stops doing anything, unless they are dead. So, I would tell them to keep reaching higher; that is what will make the difference.

I would tell them to take their pen, typewriter, computer, or if they’re into chiseling their messages into rocks, to write, and keep writing until they are comfortable with how their words sound or until they are sure that they have properly trained them.

Because words are not something to simply be captured and locked away for a rainy day. They are living and breathing creatures that need to be nurtured into submission. They never really do exactly what you want, but they do enough for you that they resemble something of what you are after. I would tell the writer to not think of their pen as a whipping stick, nor even a leash, but more of a stroking hand. Give the words their time, and they respond more quickly to whatever it is you want. They obey, to an extent, and try to please the writer’s will as quickly as possible.

All it takes is that time, that love, and dedication. Not every word that a writer will put down will be beautiful. But there must be a starting place. One moment where the writer is able to look back on, and see how far that they have come. And if they stick with it, keep training their words into messages, then they will see those results.

Words are not mere markings, they are a part of the writer’s soul, and a soul is not something that can be tethered down.

Words are alive

A Slight Change In Direction

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and, career courses, college, community, literature, oddities, other, school, such, work, Writing

As the semester is approaching its final weeks, I have been rethinking the way that I am approaching my future. Money is getting tight, and while I am thoroughly enjoying my classes, there are some things that I want to do, as far as my future career goes, that I have not been able to engage in recently.

So, what I am thinking of doing is this: I will continue going to school part time, and then work my job at the bookstore full time (or at least as close to that as I can).  That way, I can be saving money back, finishing school, as well as having more time for my writing. As it is, I have had little time to partake in what I enjoy doing, and that has been bothering me to no end, often making my stomach churn when I think of it at night. I am accustomed to being able to have some time to write, and while I do write for this blog, there can be a span of weeks before I can actually sit down and write something for the sake of practice. I want to be able to write for myself daily, but that hasn’t been happening.

By splitting my attention between the bookstore and my schoolwork, I think that I will get the best of both worlds. My parents think that it’s a wonderful idea, and funnily enough, it was my Father who brought it up to me, as if reading my mind. I have always known that it won’t be school that will teach me to write, instead, I have to be the one who sits down and does the deed in order to get good at it. So, again, I think that it will be the smarter course. At least for my situation.

I will be starting chapter 3 soon, friends. Have a wonderful day!

Day One and a Small Excerpt

Tags

book, calling my name, characters, death, happy thoughts, ideas, literature, nano, NaNoWriMo, national novel writing month, novel, story, wrimo

Here is what I’m doing for NaNoWriMo.

NaNoWriMo: Day 1

Today, I have not been able to do much because of my schoolwork calling my name. However, I did do a little bit to contribute to my re-write and was able to get down about 500 words or so. It was a small conversation between two of my characters, but it was crucial to getting my plot on its feet. The conversation introduced my character’s motives and dreams and struggles as well as to introduce my second character. Both of whom are going to play massive roles in the plot.

So, I am pleased with what I was able to squeeze into my schedule. Tomorrow I expect to get more done because it’s the weekend, and maybe even get caught up with the word count! I am going to also try and keep this a daily posting.

For fun, here’s a little excerpt from that conversation:

—–

“I feel so lost.” Wrath said mentally. It was a thought that continued to come to him over time. He tried to keep that kind of thinking away, and instead focus on his family; happy thoughts. But the thought of being lost kept returning, begging for his attention with a calloused palm. It bothered him, and he wanted it to leave, but return it would. Maybe, he thought, if he were to think it through, it would go away.

“Who says that you are?” A voice says, “You could be making it all up. The world is not a friendly place, so who is to say that this isn’t normal?”

“It is normal.” Wrath said to himself.

“Now it is?” The voice asked Chidingly.

Wrath shuddered mentally. If the world was always this cold, then what was the point of going on? He knew that he wanted an escape. Some kind of release.

“Give me death.” Wrath whispered, barely letting the air past his lips.

“I can not grant it. I am merely a voice, one that you yourself created.” It said, “Death will have to come to you by your own hand.”

“I can not, though. I will become what crawls through the streets and the sewers, licking blood off the walls of old homes. Never still, always hungry, killing because it can not die itself. I do not want that kind of fate.”

“Are you sure that you do not want that fate? Would it not be easier to live?” The voice became deathly quiet, “Who says that those creatures out there aren’t happy?”

Happy? What was happy? Some long forgotten memories tugged at his mind, bringing into focus his family, his friends…even his duty to the city. They passed back into whatever dark recess they had come from, taking any old feeling of warmth with them.

“They are not happy.” Wrath felt himself saying, “Even in death they scream in pain. Watching me with hateful eyes. I hear no laughter from their severed throats, no mirth shining in dim eyes. There is nothing from them. They envy my life, and I envy their death. They are not happy, I do not want that fate.”

“But you don’t know for sure, do you?”

“No, I suppose that I don’t. But I have seen, and I am afraid. Give me real death, and I will embrace it warmly. Darkness, unconsciousness is what I want.” Wrath’s voice broke slightly, “I haven’t seen real darkness in so long.”

—-

More to come!