So, I was surfing through the blogs I follow the other day and I came across this fun thing called a Meme at a new blog (at least to me :P) called the Editing Hat since, he borrowed it from another blog, I thought I would follow in tradition, fill in one word answers, have my very own word fun!!
So here it is... my Meme:
Your Cell Phone? None
Your Hair? Thick
Your Mother? Works
Your Father? Ditto
Your Favorite Food? Healthy
Your Dream Last Night? *giggles*
Your Favorite Drink? Tea
Your Dream/Goal? Author
What Room Are You In? Living
Your Hobby? Reading
Your Fear? Stuck
Where Do You See Yourself In Six Years? Forward
Where Were You Last Night? Writing
Something That You Aren't? Tall
Muffins? Nope
Wish List Item? Travel
Where Did You Grow Up? Around
Last Thing You Did? Sleep
What Are You Wearing? Robe
Your TV? Off
Your Pets? (C)Agador
Friends? Good
Your Life? Even
Your Mood? Chipper
Missing Someone? Always
Vehicle? Rusty
Something You Aren't Wearing? Socks
Your Favorite Store? Books
Your Favorite Color? Black
When Was The Last Time You Laughed? Today
Last Time You Cried? Past
Your Best Friend? Yup
Facebook? Eh...
Favorite Place To Eat? Aladdin's
Favorite Character you've written about? Gwen
Saturday, January 30, 2010
Thursday, January 28, 2010
The Process
"The pain is in the process"
Yes.
It's a homage to the world at hand. Not only to writing, but I'm going to take the saying and roll with it, my way.
Between writing the rough, the first and the final draft, editing, reworking and then rewording what you've already done. It can seem like a tedious process, less gratifying to keep going back over to polish the scuffs out of a piece of work which was once the shining beacon of our existence.
There have been many a time, where I shirked off editing a short story, poem or anything along the lines of having to do actual "WORK," simply for a more easy path. However, it seems that the process rears it's ugly head, every time.
I will admit it is much more satisfying to follow the muse, hand her the reigns and let her show me what she wants. No matter how fun it is, it isn't realistic.
Work is part of molding your piece into a proper manuscript, story, poem, idea... painting, lyrics (whatever you chosen genre of life is.) When something plops out of my mind, it is pretty to me. I love it, but I know that there is more I will have to do with the "bones" before it comes to light, or for others to enjoy.
I wrote my first WIP in five weeks. I didn't know what that meant, I was innocent to the way of writing. I blasted through with an exhilarated feeling, I knew I finally found my calling. Though I had a niggling suspect my WIP wasn't ready, so I sat down and rewrote it, it was even better the second time around. This time I sat down and thought about what was happening, how it would work and saw the flecked parts come together in a cohesive story. But it still wasn't ready.
Now, a year and a half later, I have my plan and have started the story for REAL. I wasn't writing the story. I was writing the backstory/history of the characters. I was planning out their lives, what their individual purposes were. All of it. I was making a plan.
I was blind at first; now time, knowledge and the fact I've opened my mind to learning has helped expand my writing in a way I've never believed possible. I am still wet behind the ears and I've now I have started my WIP for real this time. I am lovin' every minute of it.
I'm sure there will come a day when the words THE END cross my screen, which means more edits, rewrites, and other groaning grunt work. But it's all for a reason. It's all apart of the process.
Yes.
It's a homage to the world at hand. Not only to writing, but I'm going to take the saying and roll with it, my way.
Between writing the rough, the first and the final draft, editing, reworking and then rewording what you've already done. It can seem like a tedious process, less gratifying to keep going back over to polish the scuffs out of a piece of work which was once the shining beacon of our existence.
There have been many a time, where I shirked off editing a short story, poem or anything along the lines of having to do actual "WORK," simply for a more easy path. However, it seems that the process rears it's ugly head, every time.
I will admit it is much more satisfying to follow the muse, hand her the reigns and let her show me what she wants. No matter how fun it is, it isn't realistic.
Work is part of molding your piece into a proper manuscript, story, poem, idea... painting, lyrics (whatever you chosen genre of life is.) When something plops out of my mind, it is pretty to me. I love it, but I know that there is more I will have to do with the "bones" before it comes to light, or for others to enjoy.
I wrote my first WIP in five weeks. I didn't know what that meant, I was innocent to the way of writing. I blasted through with an exhilarated feeling, I knew I finally found my calling. Though I had a niggling suspect my WIP wasn't ready, so I sat down and rewrote it, it was even better the second time around. This time I sat down and thought about what was happening, how it would work and saw the flecked parts come together in a cohesive story. But it still wasn't ready.
Now, a year and a half later, I have my plan and have started the story for REAL. I wasn't writing the story. I was writing the backstory/history of the characters. I was planning out their lives, what their individual purposes were. All of it. I was making a plan.
I was blind at first; now time, knowledge and the fact I've opened my mind to learning has helped expand my writing in a way I've never believed possible. I am still wet behind the ears and I've now I have started my WIP for real this time. I am lovin' every minute of it.
I'm sure there will come a day when the words THE END cross my screen, which means more edits, rewrites, and other groaning grunt work. But it's all for a reason. It's all apart of the process.
Wednesday, January 27, 2010
The Snow
It comes riding through the air, on the wisps of breeze. The sweet stale scent, one that tells you the world is about to change color, in a blanket of white the flakes come, dancing with serenity.
Although, I have to say I am not a fan of the cold. I do love the snow.
Everything seems a little brighter and magical, if only for a few moments. Fresh snow is the best. Fluffy tufts of white combining together. transforming the dead grass and naked trees into something splendorous to peer at.
Yes, there are hindrances to life's little salt shaker, as I have mentioned above, the cold for one, canceled school or meetings (and depending who you are it is good when you're a kid, but a little rougher on the parents. :P) You have to bundle up, the car won't start; you have to sweep, shovel and other unpleasant things one wouldn't normally have to do if we weren't in winter.
But the good outweighs the bad, I believe. Hot chocolate, playing with the kids, or with yourself. Catching snowflakes on your tongue (I'm not a "Lucy," December snow is just fine for me,) ice skating, sledding, scarves, sweaters and my favorite - Kneehigh socks... plus a plethora of other brilliant things, if you are creative enough.
If you don't live in a place where the seasons change, you may never know, or possibly dread the idea of the cold wetness that is portrayed on the news. However, if you look at things differently every once in a while, you're bound to see the magnificence.
It's always important for people to keep a new perspective in life. Otherwise it grows dull. Humans do not work well under boring circumstances. So look out your window, breath frosty air into your lungs and for a moment enjoy the snow.
It might not bother you as much after that.
Although, I have to say I am not a fan of the cold. I do love the snow.
Everything seems a little brighter and magical, if only for a few moments. Fresh snow is the best. Fluffy tufts of white combining together. transforming the dead grass and naked trees into something splendorous to peer at.
Yes, there are hindrances to life's little salt shaker, as I have mentioned above, the cold for one, canceled school or meetings (and depending who you are it is good when you're a kid, but a little rougher on the parents. :P) You have to bundle up, the car won't start; you have to sweep, shovel and other unpleasant things one wouldn't normally have to do if we weren't in winter.
But the good outweighs the bad, I believe. Hot chocolate, playing with the kids, or with yourself. Catching snowflakes on your tongue (I'm not a "Lucy," December snow is just fine for me,) ice skating, sledding, scarves, sweaters and my favorite - Kneehigh socks... plus a plethora of other brilliant things, if you are creative enough.
If you don't live in a place where the seasons change, you may never know, or possibly dread the idea of the cold wetness that is portrayed on the news. However, if you look at things differently every once in a while, you're bound to see the magnificence.
It's always important for people to keep a new perspective in life. Otherwise it grows dull. Humans do not work well under boring circumstances. So look out your window, breath frosty air into your lungs and for a moment enjoy the snow.
It might not bother you as much after that.
Monday, January 25, 2010
The Bad Mood
It comes out of no where, and it's inevitable. At least for humans, or so that it what I am told.
The bad mood can happen for a myriad of reasons, the kids are screaming; the bills need paid, but there is no money to be found; we get tired, run down, stressed from work, someone says something stupid; our spouse doesn't clean up what they were supposed to clean up... on and on our moods can spurn from anywhere.
But what happens if there is no reason for the bad mood? What if you simply wake up on the wrong side of the bed? I believe it's more frustrating when the reason isn't evident. I think that there is a reason, but if it is not slapping us in the face, then how do we pull ourselves out?
Most times a change of scenery or changing up the activity you're currently doing helps. But what if that doesn't work? Climbing back into your bed and staying there until the next day is an option, but it can lead to avoidance and possible carry over throwing you into an endless loop of bad days.
Sadly, nothing can help us out of our bad mood but us. I hate to say it, because when I'm in a bad mood I don't feel like helping myself out of a plastic bag; but it happens. Then the building mood causes yelling, frustration and writers block. When there should be none.
Self-inflicted doubts start to creep up into my head and I start to wonder many things I wouldn't wonder if I was in a happy place. There are many days I remember what I was frustrated over and shake my head, glad it's past.
Of course logically, there is always a reason.
The only thing to do is to sit with the uncomfortable feeling and search inside ourselves to try and figure out what is fact and what is just fabrication. When that doesn't help, if the answer doesn't come in a timely manner, I believe it's all for not. We have to wait it out.
We are human after all. I think we should be allotted a nice frame of time where we don't have to be happy, just as long as we aren't too hard on ourselves and we don't hurt anyone else in the process.
Always being self-aware helps as well. Now sometimes when the anger fogs your mind so much to the point where we are just shouting, screaming and slamming things around, that is when we need to take drastic measures. Call a friend and rant, write your angry thoughts, no matter how vicious they may seem, out; do something to extract the bitter engergy from yourself.
Soon, it will all be just a memory.
Too often, I know of people who judge themselves too brashly, they beat themselves up because they feel like they should be able to control themselves ALL of the time. That is just not the case. Why are you better than the other people around you? You're entitled to feel what you feel. Whether you want to or not.
Keep in mind it will pass. Emotions are like the weather, we are very much like the earth in that way, cruel and destructive in one moment, kind and gentle in the next. What's important to keep in mind is that they all pass. The good times fade, but so do the bad times.
Hold tight to yourself and know that eventually everything will be okay.
The bad mood can happen for a myriad of reasons, the kids are screaming; the bills need paid, but there is no money to be found; we get tired, run down, stressed from work, someone says something stupid; our spouse doesn't clean up what they were supposed to clean up... on and on our moods can spurn from anywhere.
But what happens if there is no reason for the bad mood? What if you simply wake up on the wrong side of the bed? I believe it's more frustrating when the reason isn't evident. I think that there is a reason, but if it is not slapping us in the face, then how do we pull ourselves out?
Most times a change of scenery or changing up the activity you're currently doing helps. But what if that doesn't work? Climbing back into your bed and staying there until the next day is an option, but it can lead to avoidance and possible carry over throwing you into an endless loop of bad days.
Sadly, nothing can help us out of our bad mood but us. I hate to say it, because when I'm in a bad mood I don't feel like helping myself out of a plastic bag; but it happens. Then the building mood causes yelling, frustration and writers block. When there should be none.
Self-inflicted doubts start to creep up into my head and I start to wonder many things I wouldn't wonder if I was in a happy place. There are many days I remember what I was frustrated over and shake my head, glad it's past.
Of course logically, there is always a reason.
The only thing to do is to sit with the uncomfortable feeling and search inside ourselves to try and figure out what is fact and what is just fabrication. When that doesn't help, if the answer doesn't come in a timely manner, I believe it's all for not. We have to wait it out.
We are human after all. I think we should be allotted a nice frame of time where we don't have to be happy, just as long as we aren't too hard on ourselves and we don't hurt anyone else in the process.
Always being self-aware helps as well. Now sometimes when the anger fogs your mind so much to the point where we are just shouting, screaming and slamming things around, that is when we need to take drastic measures. Call a friend and rant, write your angry thoughts, no matter how vicious they may seem, out; do something to extract the bitter engergy from yourself.
Soon, it will all be just a memory.
Too often, I know of people who judge themselves too brashly, they beat themselves up because they feel like they should be able to control themselves ALL of the time. That is just not the case. Why are you better than the other people around you? You're entitled to feel what you feel. Whether you want to or not.
Keep in mind it will pass. Emotions are like the weather, we are very much like the earth in that way, cruel and destructive in one moment, kind and gentle in the next. What's important to keep in mind is that they all pass. The good times fade, but so do the bad times.
Hold tight to yourself and know that eventually everything will be okay.
Friday, January 22, 2010
The Print
I wandered the soil for twenty-eight years wondering what my purpose was. I bounced off a fair amount of ideas, but nothing stuck. When I graduated high-school, I had no clue what I wanted to do. I was creative, so it seemed to be a natural path for me to attend art school. With my graphic design aspirations in tack, I ended up finding a job at a newspaper, in the advertising department.
Twelve to nineteen hour days, pasting ads together...monotonous, tedious and lots of other -ous's that didn't make me happy. After three years, I was still unable to support myself. I found a part time job at a bookstore. Of course, I loved it.
But I still didn't get the connection.
I had always been thrown in the eye of the proverbial storm. Never really getting hint; writing was my optimum goal.
I always wanted to write. I wrote a handful of books when I was a little girl, had journals scattered with ramblings of my mind. But I never thought I could.
When I was twenty eight, I woke up with an inspired idea, wrote a novel and haven't looked back since. I could have seen the signs sooner. I will blame it on my own dense mind, insecurities and a variety of other excuses which pop out at any given time. But, now when I look back I see, I was always supposed to be a writer.
The proof is in the evidence.
For all of my adult years, I worked around the print. Never in it, which was why I had an uncomfortable pit in my heart. Now, I am writing. And the black pit shrank away.
I have learned how to flesh out an idea to make it into something readable and there is nothing I won't try. With writing that is. I recently found out I could also write poetry. Never in a million years would I have considered myself a poet before. But here I am, a proverbial salt-shaker of short, impactful words which make sense.
If there is one thing I have learned from my expeirence is that nothing is easy at first. Sometimes it's hard to see the signs slapping you in the face, but in all honesty when you take the blinders off, look through the magnify glass handed to you at birth and get an in depth, look inside of yourself you will be surprised. All it takes is a little time, and eventually it will all make sense.
Twelve to nineteen hour days, pasting ads together...monotonous, tedious and lots of other -ous's that didn't make me happy. After three years, I was still unable to support myself. I found a part time job at a bookstore. Of course, I loved it.
But I still didn't get the connection.
I had always been thrown in the eye of the proverbial storm. Never really getting hint; writing was my optimum goal.
I always wanted to write. I wrote a handful of books when I was a little girl, had journals scattered with ramblings of my mind. But I never thought I could.
When I was twenty eight, I woke up with an inspired idea, wrote a novel and haven't looked back since. I could have seen the signs sooner. I will blame it on my own dense mind, insecurities and a variety of other excuses which pop out at any given time. But, now when I look back I see, I was always supposed to be a writer.
The proof is in the evidence.
For all of my adult years, I worked around the print. Never in it, which was why I had an uncomfortable pit in my heart. Now, I am writing. And the black pit shrank away.
I have learned how to flesh out an idea to make it into something readable and there is nothing I won't try. With writing that is. I recently found out I could also write poetry. Never in a million years would I have considered myself a poet before. But here I am, a proverbial salt-shaker of short, impactful words which make sense.
If there is one thing I have learned from my expeirence is that nothing is easy at first. Sometimes it's hard to see the signs slapping you in the face, but in all honesty when you take the blinders off, look through the magnify glass handed to you at birth and get an in depth, look inside of yourself you will be surprised. All it takes is a little time, and eventually it will all make sense.
Wednesday, January 20, 2010
The Monsters
There are many things I enjoy about writing but by far, creating the monster is my favorite... I use the term Monster loosely, evil is evil anyway you slice it.
There is something fabulous about letting the darkest part of my mind take over unrelentingly, giving the baddie control to show me the most vicious parts of humanity and let go of any good to be purely malicious.
To be cruel without forgiveness is something that many of us know nothing about. But when you strap on the characters persona a whole new life and set of values takes form.
My monsters are nothing more than human. I have yet to dive into the world of creature creating. However, I look forward to the day I make that leap. For now, my evil-doers are in human form. They display a hint of nasty in the start, progressing deeper and darker into the pit where their heart should be as the story spins its sick tale.
I've only dabbled with self-acceptance of my love of all things horror for the last couple of years. And now that I have thrown myself into it so whole-heartily I am finding more and more fascination from how the first bloody seeds started to grow.
Though not writing, Universal Studios published a book of their monsters, from the birth of the very first silent horror film into the 1940's and 50's. They have a list of casts ranging from Lon Chaney, Bela Lugosi, and many many others, including Vincent Price.
The book breaks down the costumes, the sets, who was in what movie, a little spotlight piece on the studios main players, the plots and what the censers would and would not allow (I'll tell you it's nice to know that even back then people tested their boundaries away from the norm as they tried, and most times succeeded, to get things past the rule-makers.)
It's interesting because new questions are now popping up. I have always loved a good movie horror or otherwise, but to see things broken down in such a way, gives me an appreciation for just how far movies, technology and humans have come.
Plus it makes me hungry to find out more...
Including where the stories come from, I have set myself on sort of a Horror-Quest and I'm going to start researching and reading anything that would promote the birth of the genre I enjoy so much. I can't wait to see where it leads me. I am certain it will make me a better writer and a more well-rounded individual for me to find the roots, folklore and other things that will allow my brain to think in a new and different light.
There is something fabulous about letting the darkest part of my mind take over unrelentingly, giving the baddie control to show me the most vicious parts of humanity and let go of any good to be purely malicious.
To be cruel without forgiveness is something that many of us know nothing about. But when you strap on the characters persona a whole new life and set of values takes form.
My monsters are nothing more than human. I have yet to dive into the world of creature creating. However, I look forward to the day I make that leap. For now, my evil-doers are in human form. They display a hint of nasty in the start, progressing deeper and darker into the pit where their heart should be as the story spins its sick tale.
I've only dabbled with self-acceptance of my love of all things horror for the last couple of years. And now that I have thrown myself into it so whole-heartily I am finding more and more fascination from how the first bloody seeds started to grow.
Though not writing, Universal Studios published a book of their monsters, from the birth of the very first silent horror film into the 1940's and 50's. They have a list of casts ranging from Lon Chaney, Bela Lugosi, and many many others, including Vincent Price.
The book breaks down the costumes, the sets, who was in what movie, a little spotlight piece on the studios main players, the plots and what the censers would and would not allow (I'll tell you it's nice to know that even back then people tested their boundaries away from the norm as they tried, and most times succeeded, to get things past the rule-makers.)
It's interesting because new questions are now popping up. I have always loved a good movie horror or otherwise, but to see things broken down in such a way, gives me an appreciation for just how far movies, technology and humans have come.
Plus it makes me hungry to find out more...
Including where the stories come from, I have set myself on sort of a Horror-Quest and I'm going to start researching and reading anything that would promote the birth of the genre I enjoy so much. I can't wait to see where it leads me. I am certain it will make me a better writer and a more well-rounded individual for me to find the roots, folklore and other things that will allow my brain to think in a new and different light.
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