Curious man is constantly seeking knowledge. If there is a surprise, they want to take a peek. They'll find a way to put anything in their reach. Minds constantly piqued, they study until anything unique has become antique, or anything antique has been recovered to its previous peak.
Sounds like we're extremely bored creatures.
Now, for every intelligent man, I think you and I agree that there must be an outflow of what is learned. If children earn their marks, if young men and women intern, or masters govern employees, but what they have learned is never applied, we might as well overturn our whole educational system.
(In fact, I yearn for our educational system to be returned to its real concern for intelligence regardless of what I have just said.
...but that's a different oration.)
Anyway, from there, it only depends on what receives said knowledge that decides said man's fate...
Do you understand what I mean, or am I not speaking straight?
You could look at it this way...
Say a man pulls butter, or knowledge, out of the refrigerator (the equivalent of an author, preacher, teacher, reporter, or singer) and uses it to create cake. Another man takes the same weight, the same great statement, and applies it to a fish filet before a sauté.
Together, they've made different plates, but their knowledge is just the same.
Now you ought to know what I'm trying to show you, so let's have go with another scenario.
Hypothetically, let's say I'm standing in front of a garden, and you're standing in front of an oven. We're both instructed to follow the orders we hear coming from a person behind us, and for the sake of the example, we will obey to a tee.
In this set up, the objects in front of us would be our lives, the orders from behind us would be the knowledge we obtain.
So committed, the first edict we're given is to clip. I pick a pair of scissors and make small dips in the grit of earth as I snip the weeds in front of me. You, not to your wit's credit, take a paperclip and attempt to slip it on your oven. Clip.
When finished, our second mandate is heard as [rāz]. Unfazed, I raze more bouquets of weeds, and after some lengthy delay, you say you need to raise your oven...quite the engagement, as you strain to obey. During your great undertaking, you unplug the hated thing, fray and cause pain to yourself.
Before the sheen of sweat has even dried from your cheeks, our third decree is to screen. Willingly, I pluck a daisy and reveal it to a group of people who dally by as you, now balky and broody, attempt to keep your oven from being seen by your group of passers-by. Are you beginning to see how things can be interpreted so differently?
Then finally, we have the instruction to "sanction". With no small elation, I reason that I'm given salvation from my gardening station. You, on the other hand, hear the order as a threat and remain with regrets.
Now unset your teeth.
Didn't I say, "hypothetically"?
I don't consider you the above, you haven't the humility to take such bullying, and you would never let other condescend.
Take the example theoretically. Speculatively. Supposedly. Assumedly.
Who is to judge if its roots are in reality?
That aside, let me ask you this:
How is your life after just four doses of truth?
It's unplugged and damaged, dysfunctional with its droops. Furthermore, you just played the dupe.
And how is my life?
Well, I'm fine. I'm free, and my garden looks clean.
These are the lies of knowledge, you self-advertised philosopher. If you haven't realized how much you're wrecking your own life, I doubt you'll stumble across the other truths in this world with your frequent sighs and gray skies, so--here--know the reason I write is to tell you to look with new sight.
See the knowledge as it is, the bad with the good, the sorrow with the joy, the surrender with the happiness.
OPEN YOUR EYES.
Write on!
Clove
Written for Ort' Toluni' Pe'itor˚ope'r
8.31.2013
8.29.2013
Why We Seem "Dark"
Recently, a few of my devoted readers and encouragers have called me "dark" when in discourse concerning my writing.
Dark?
As in atrocious? Hopeless? Brooding? That sort of dark?
Yes, they said, that sort of dark.
Well...uhhh...how is my writing darker than anyone else's?
Honestly, my novels don't include more than the normal bloodshed, emotional turmoil, and cruelties. In fact, if my story, or anyone's for that matter, didn't include those elements, where would the story be?
It wouldn't.
So, then presents the question: what categorizes a story as "dark"? And following said question, here are My 3 Most Logical Conclusions as to Why a Story Seems Dark:
1.) The reader.
This manifests itself in a simple way - the reader is too immature and sensitive to take in the content of the story. Apparently, our generation, us (collectively) teenagers and young adults, decided the Hunger Games was thrilling and obsession-worthy when many of our parents were shocked at the child v.s. child element in the series. Thus, to our parents, the Hunger Games felt "dark".
Whether it really is or isn't...well, that's a wholly opinionated decision.
2.) The novel.
Ever read those books where you feel like you have to put it down and breathe for a few seconds before going back in? Yeah, I'm talking about those books with little humor, lots of written anxiety, and general on-going confusion. *glares at Lemony Snicket*
Yes, a book's "darkness" is really dependent on the reader, but when a boatload of enthusiastic critics think and review a certain book as "dark", you can expect it to depress you a little.
3.) The seen difference between author and novel.
This is when person A reads a book written by perfectly cheery person B and can't take the novel for what it is without hopping into B's brains, trying to decide exactly how B got the idea of manslaughter and other such crises.
Example:
I have an adult-friend who goes by the online name Em. She's a darling, honestly. She's a good Christian, frequently laughs, and makes me laugh even more frequently. Em's got a lot of time on her hands and writes urban fantasies.
On the other hand, her dad, who has read some of her work, laid out the question as to her inner heart's purity. Some people just naturally assume that if she's writing about wizards torturing witches via magic in kisses (long story =^.^=), she's got a heart as dark as night and a mind as twisted as a kitchen rag.
Fortunately, that is NOT the case. An author can come up with a killer story, something ridiculously depressing and sodden in misery, without being a killing person, ridiculously depressed and sodden in misery.
All of you authors already know what I'm talking about.
BUT.
If you have any skeptics, feel free to refer them to this blog post. And if they *looks at skeptics with a cold, hard stare* have any other questions to ask, put them in a comment box, and I'll write a rebuttal post. Sound good? :)
Write on!
Clove
Dark?
As in atrocious? Hopeless? Brooding? That sort of dark?
Yes, they said, that sort of dark.
Well...uhhh...how is my writing darker than anyone else's?
Honestly, my novels don't include more than the normal bloodshed, emotional turmoil, and cruelties. In fact, if my story, or anyone's for that matter, didn't include those elements, where would the story be?
It wouldn't.
So, then presents the question: what categorizes a story as "dark"? And following said question, here are My 3 Most Logical Conclusions as to Why a Story Seems Dark:
1.) The reader.
This manifests itself in a simple way - the reader is too immature and sensitive to take in the content of the story. Apparently, our generation, us (collectively) teenagers and young adults, decided the Hunger Games was thrilling and obsession-worthy when many of our parents were shocked at the child v.s. child element in the series. Thus, to our parents, the Hunger Games felt "dark".
Whether it really is or isn't...well, that's a wholly opinionated decision.
2.) The novel.
Ever read those books where you feel like you have to put it down and breathe for a few seconds before going back in? Yeah, I'm talking about those books with little humor, lots of written anxiety, and general on-going confusion. *glares at Lemony Snicket*
Yes, a book's "darkness" is really dependent on the reader, but when a boatload of enthusiastic critics think and review a certain book as "dark", you can expect it to depress you a little.
3.) The seen difference between author and novel.
This is when person A reads a book written by perfectly cheery person B and can't take the novel for what it is without hopping into B's brains, trying to decide exactly how B got the idea of manslaughter and other such crises.
Example:
I have an adult-friend who goes by the online name Em. She's a darling, honestly. She's a good Christian, frequently laughs, and makes me laugh even more frequently. Em's got a lot of time on her hands and writes urban fantasies.
On the other hand, her dad, who has read some of her work, laid out the question as to her inner heart's purity. Some people just naturally assume that if she's writing about wizards torturing witches via magic in kisses (long story =^.^=), she's got a heart as dark as night and a mind as twisted as a kitchen rag.
Fortunately, that is NOT the case. An author can come up with a killer story, something ridiculously depressing and sodden in misery, without being a killing person, ridiculously depressed and sodden in misery.
All of you authors already know what I'm talking about.
BUT.
If you have any skeptics, feel free to refer them to this blog post. And if they *looks at skeptics with a cold, hard stare* have any other questions to ask, put them in a comment box, and I'll write a rebuttal post. Sound good? :)
Write on!
Clove
8.28.2013
Beware the Writing Ticks!
Ever heard of a writing tick?
It's that word or phrase that you use over and over and over and over again.
Like recently, my writing tick has been the word "suddenly". I was writing the other day when I realized suddenly that I use "suddenly" more than is needed. It was a sudden dawning, and I went straight back to my recent writings, taking out the five "suddenly's" in two pages of writing. Suddenly, I just can't stop using suddenly.
My writing tick has suddenly become "suddenly".
(See what I did there? ;))
Then there are those ticks you get when you do long dialogue scenes and need stuff to go in between speakers.
Among some of my dialogue ticks are:
-He shrugged.
-She raised an eyebrow.
-He cocked his head.
-She tossed her hair.
-He shifted his position.
-She glanced at him.
I will use these phrases in copious amounts, and I really need to quit it out, but suddenly, I just--
NOOOOOOOOO.
Write on! x)
Clove
P.S. Have any ticks yourself? The comment box is below! :)
It's that word or phrase that you use over and over and over and over again.
Like recently, my writing tick has been the word "suddenly". I was writing the other day when I realized suddenly that I use "suddenly" more than is needed. It was a sudden dawning, and I went straight back to my recent writings, taking out the five "suddenly's" in two pages of writing. Suddenly, I just can't stop using suddenly.
My writing tick has suddenly become "suddenly".
(See what I did there? ;))
Then there are those ticks you get when you do long dialogue scenes and need stuff to go in between speakers.
Among some of my dialogue ticks are:
-He shrugged.
-She raised an eyebrow.
-He cocked his head.
-She tossed her hair.
-He shifted his position.
-She glanced at him.
I will use these phrases in copious amounts, and I really need to quit it out, but suddenly, I just--
NOOOOOOOOO.
Write on! x)
Clove
P.S. Have any ticks yourself? The comment box is below! :)
8.25.2013
Dirty Writing
Yes, I know I don't normally approach religion in this blog, but this is too much of a writing topic for me to put it in my other co-blog where I mainly blog on God and His impact on my life. That being said, I'm writing this to those of us who call ourselves Christians or have any affiliation with religion at all. As always, this isn't a condemnation; it's advice to search your heart in this area.
From the blog title, you've probably assumed I'll be attacking dirty words in writing. If that's your guess, you're absolutely correct.
It annoys me to an extent when I see unsaved authors defile pages with curse words and then have their books published so that their words cannot be erased. Cornelia Funke, for example, she threw me off, to be honest. I can understand when there are "Damn's" and "God's" like in John Flannagan's writing, but Cornelia has exposed children to adult language, emphasis on the "adult".
Extremely disappointing.
Then on the other hand, it annoys me to an even greater extend when I see alleged Christian authors obliterate their testimonies with evil words.
"But I'm not saying the words," they protest, "My characters are!"
Ummm...
Who is making your characters speak?
YOU ARE.
I was talking to one of my friends the other day who said something very profound along the lines of this:
What my friend said is very true.
You could fill your pages with all the "gosh-darnits" in the world, and it still won't sound the same as "God-damn". You could even create a language and come up with word equivalents. Instead of saying "crap" you could say "kesh" and explain that "kesh" is a curse word in such-and-such imaginary language.
HOWEVER.
If you claim Christianity, let me ask you this:
Why would you do that?
If you think it or cause someone else to think it, you've already defiled yourself. Alternate spellings--"dammit" instead of "damn it"--mean nothing at all if your intent is still to cuss.
Another thing.
I don't care if the words have lost meaning to you. People say, "That's so gay," as if they'd say, "That's so cool." If you stubbed your toe and want to yell, "Ow!" then yell, "Ow!" not "To Hell!" Make your characters do the same.
Finally, for the sake of Saint Peter and the false prophet Mohammad, don't say, "For God's sake." Not only is that absolutely ridiculous because God isn't moved emotionally by anything we do, but it's plain taking God's name in vain.
If abiding by what I said here is a problem for you, I'm flat-out demanding you to answer these three questions in the comment box below:
Why would you want to curse in your writing? Why would you conform to the world? What do you gain out of defiling your mind and mouth?
Using curse words is *bleeping* *bleep* for *bleeps*.
JUST DON'T.
Write on...with clean language!!!
Clove
~ ~ ~
From the blog title, you've probably assumed I'll be attacking dirty words in writing. If that's your guess, you're absolutely correct.
It annoys me to an extent when I see unsaved authors defile pages with curse words and then have their books published so that their words cannot be erased. Cornelia Funke, for example, she threw me off, to be honest. I can understand when there are "Damn's" and "God's" like in John Flannagan's writing, but Cornelia has exposed children to adult language, emphasis on the "adult".
Extremely disappointing.
Then on the other hand, it annoys me to an even greater extend when I see alleged Christian authors obliterate their testimonies with evil words.
"But I'm not saying the words," they protest, "My characters are!"
Ummm...
Who is making your characters speak?
YOU ARE.
I was talking to one of my friends the other day who said something very profound along the lines of this:
Yeah, so then I was quoting the end of the Avengers trailer to Mom. "If we can't protect the earth, you can be, uh...sure we'll avenge it." But then I told her, "You know, Ironman curses when he says that, and it just doesn't sound the same without the curse word."
What my friend said is very true.
You could fill your pages with all the "gosh-darnits" in the world, and it still won't sound the same as "God-damn". You could even create a language and come up with word equivalents. Instead of saying "crap" you could say "kesh" and explain that "kesh" is a curse word in such-and-such imaginary language.
HOWEVER.
If you claim Christianity, let me ask you this:
Why would you do that?
If you think it or cause someone else to think it, you've already defiled yourself. Alternate spellings--"dammit" instead of "damn it"--mean nothing at all if your intent is still to cuss.
Another thing.
I don't care if the words have lost meaning to you. People say, "That's so gay," as if they'd say, "That's so cool." If you stubbed your toe and want to yell, "Ow!" then yell, "Ow!" not "To Hell!" Make your characters do the same.
Finally, for the sake of Saint Peter and the false prophet Mohammad, don't say, "For God's sake." Not only is that absolutely ridiculous because God isn't moved emotionally by anything we do, but it's plain taking God's name in vain.
If abiding by what I said here is a problem for you, I'm flat-out demanding you to answer these three questions in the comment box below:
Why would you want to curse in your writing? Why would you conform to the world? What do you gain out of defiling your mind and mouth?
Using curse words is *bleeping* *bleep* for *bleeps*.
JUST DON'T.
Write on...with clean language!!!
Clove
8.24.2013
Text from Today - Biology Mission Impossible
Backstory for the Text from Today:
Me to Josh: I went out to get the water for my Biology lab today. There were like three spiders who had attached their webs to me and were like crawling up to my face. Ugh.
Josh, laughing: That's such a girly thing to say.
True (with slight dramatization) story:
My Biology textbook looks me in the eye with the words, "This mission, should you choose to accept it (and avoid an F), will (not) self destruct in five seconds. (In fact, it'll be waiting, staring at you, making you feel like the lazy procrastinator that you are. You were supposed to have done this on Thursday, idiot, and now it's a Saturday. Good going, moron.)"
Unaffected by the text's libel, I glare back at the tome by the light of the kitchen window and put the teakettle on the stove to boil an egg as I reread and memorize the mission briefing.
The culturing of bacteria from creek water is my end goal, but in order to get there, I must obtain a boiled egg, some hay, white rice, and a little bit of dirt--all of which are bacteria fodder--and four half-jars of creek water. All this must be done in fifteen minutes, the minimal amount of time it takes to fully boil an egg, so I can immediately come back, put the egg yolk in bacteria-full creek water and move on with my life.
I can undoubtedly say that this will be the most impossible of all Mission Impossibles I've embarked upon.
Putting down my Biology textbook, I quickly grab a teaspoon of rice from out pantry before going outside and adventurously risking my life to run in front of a lawn mower until my younger brother, riding said mower, notices. When the machine of death stops inches before my feet, Josiah fixes me with a long stare and asks in a cold voice, "What do you want?"
Ignoring the fact that I had very nearly lost my toes, I reply in an equally curt voice, "Just a few snippets of dry grass."
"What for?"
"That's confidential information. Just hand over the grass."
A long, ugly silence preys upon us as the evening sun pulls out beads of sweat across my forehead and lower back. Josiah finally heaves a sigh, gets out of his luxurious, John Deer seat of gold, and hands me a few of his clippings.
"This never happened," he warns.
I nod and, as I'm already in the baking, Georgian heat, grab a few tablespoons of dirt for my final jar while the machine of death roars in the background. Unlike Josiah, the dirt doesn't object or hold any resistance.
There. Three of the four elements checked off, and the final one is cooking.
Now for the water.
Walking back to the garage, I set down the four jars and stare at them as I consider the best way to fill them with creek water. One of the jars once held ghee, one salsa, one pickles, and another balsamic vinaigrette. None of them will be easy to carry in the fifteen meter trek through dangerous ankle-high thorns and spiderwebs.
Decisively, I grab a cardboard box, put the jars in them, then grab my Jō--four point two feet of hardened, painted wood--and dart off to my backyard forest, one darker than the heart of Mirkwood.
As I go along, I use my Jō staff, affectionately named Gaius Caelum Mucius, to wield off spiderwebs. Despite my best efforts, a silken string still manages to land on my arm and scare the living daylights out of me. Nonetheless, I remain with full composure as I lose myself of the natural impediment and reach the creek.
All in all, there's no good way to get down to the creek water. Basically, I have to jump three feet down and four feet forward to reach the nearest sand bar so I can scoop up the water. From that sand--better named "mud"--bar, there's a cluster of tree roots that aid in the haul up but no better way to get down. I shrug resignedly, grab two jars, and throw Caelum at the sand bar. Caelum sticks, and I leap after him, failing to stay on my feet. The gravel is looser than I had expected, and my knee, as it drops down, sinks several inches into the mud.
After several "heck's" and a couple of "gosh's", I dust my jeans off and gather myself again and fill up the cups with water. Having to repeat the process with the other two jars, I then climb out and carry my items back, getting attacked by two more spiders, one brown and one a freakish shade of yellow, as I retreat to the safe haven of air conditioning and arachnid-free ground.
Mind lost.
Jeans dirty.
Caelum covered in spider webs.
But the mission was completed.
"There were like three spiders who had attached their webs to me and were like crawling up to my face. Ugh."
"That's such a girly thing to say."
Can we all agree that was the world's biggest lie of the century? :D
Write on!
An arachnophobic Clove
Me to Josh: I went out to get the water for my Biology lab today. There were like three spiders who had attached their webs to me and were like crawling up to my face. Ugh.
Josh, laughing: That's such a girly thing to say.
True (with slight dramatization) story:
My Biology textbook looks me in the eye with the words, "This mission, should you choose to accept it (and avoid an F), will (not) self destruct in five seconds. (In fact, it'll be waiting, staring at you, making you feel like the lazy procrastinator that you are. You were supposed to have done this on Thursday, idiot, and now it's a Saturday. Good going, moron.)"
Unaffected by the text's libel, I glare back at the tome by the light of the kitchen window and put the teakettle on the stove to boil an egg as I reread and memorize the mission briefing.
The culturing of bacteria from creek water is my end goal, but in order to get there, I must obtain a boiled egg, some hay, white rice, and a little bit of dirt--all of which are bacteria fodder--and four half-jars of creek water. All this must be done in fifteen minutes, the minimal amount of time it takes to fully boil an egg, so I can immediately come back, put the egg yolk in bacteria-full creek water and move on with my life.
I can undoubtedly say that this will be the most impossible of all Mission Impossibles I've embarked upon.
Putting down my Biology textbook, I quickly grab a teaspoon of rice from out pantry before going outside and adventurously risking my life to run in front of a lawn mower until my younger brother, riding said mower, notices. When the machine of death stops inches before my feet, Josiah fixes me with a long stare and asks in a cold voice, "What do you want?"
Ignoring the fact that I had very nearly lost my toes, I reply in an equally curt voice, "Just a few snippets of dry grass."
"What for?"
"That's confidential information. Just hand over the grass."
A long, ugly silence preys upon us as the evening sun pulls out beads of sweat across my forehead and lower back. Josiah finally heaves a sigh, gets out of his luxurious, John Deer seat of gold, and hands me a few of his clippings.
"This never happened," he warns.
I nod and, as I'm already in the baking, Georgian heat, grab a few tablespoons of dirt for my final jar while the machine of death roars in the background. Unlike Josiah, the dirt doesn't object or hold any resistance.
There. Three of the four elements checked off, and the final one is cooking.
Now for the water.
Walking back to the garage, I set down the four jars and stare at them as I consider the best way to fill them with creek water. One of the jars once held ghee, one salsa, one pickles, and another balsamic vinaigrette. None of them will be easy to carry in the fifteen meter trek through dangerous ankle-high thorns and spiderwebs.
Decisively, I grab a cardboard box, put the jars in them, then grab my Jō--four point two feet of hardened, painted wood--and dart off to my backyard forest, one darker than the heart of Mirkwood.
As I go along, I use my Jō staff, affectionately named Gaius Caelum Mucius, to wield off spiderwebs. Despite my best efforts, a silken string still manages to land on my arm and scare the living daylights out of me. Nonetheless, I remain with full composure as I lose myself of the natural impediment and reach the creek.
All in all, there's no good way to get down to the creek water. Basically, I have to jump three feet down and four feet forward to reach the nearest sand bar so I can scoop up the water. From that sand--better named "mud"--bar, there's a cluster of tree roots that aid in the haul up but no better way to get down. I shrug resignedly, grab two jars, and throw Caelum at the sand bar. Caelum sticks, and I leap after him, failing to stay on my feet. The gravel is looser than I had expected, and my knee, as it drops down, sinks several inches into the mud.
After several "heck's" and a couple of "gosh's", I dust my jeans off and gather myself again and fill up the cups with water. Having to repeat the process with the other two jars, I then climb out and carry my items back, getting attacked by two more spiders, one brown and one a freakish shade of yellow, as I retreat to the safe haven of air conditioning and arachnid-free ground.
Mind lost.
Jeans dirty.
Caelum covered in spider webs.
But the mission was completed.
"There were like three spiders who had attached their webs to me and were like crawling up to my face. Ugh."
"That's such a girly thing to say."
Can we all agree that was the world's biggest lie of the century? :D
Write on!
An arachnophobic Clove
8.23.2013
What I Hear - Set Fire to the Rain
I liked it so much, I'm doing it again. x)
I had this feeling as I was writing this particular WIH that Adele was secretly creating a decrypted recipe, something including ewe, meat, Heinz ketchup, thyme, a very big fire, rain water, a side of human, and dog. The chefs appear to be Jason Bourne, Bernie from Sesame Street, Adele's neice, and some guy named "Hart U. Gone". The finished product seems to be something unchewable...
I had this feeling as I was writing this particular WIH that Adele was secretly creating a decrypted recipe, something including ewe, meat, Heinz ketchup, thyme, a very big fire, rain water, a side of human, and dog. The chefs appear to be Jason Bourne, Bernie from Sesame Street, Adele's neice, and some guy named "Hart U. Gone". The finished product seems to be something unchewable...
*coughs behind hand*
Uhhh, anyway. x)
I let it fall, my heart
"N'd S", it fell
You rose to claim it
It was dark, and I was
Obey
Until you kissed my lips, and you saved me
My Heinz, they're strong
But my niece would fall to ease
Stand in your arms without full into your feet
But there's side to you that I never knew, never knew
All the things you say, they would never chew, never chew
And the games you play, you would always win, always will
But I said, "Fire hair."
To the rain
Watch it, boy,
As I test your face
Well, it burned while I cry cause I heard ice cream in out your name
Your name
We're lame with you
I could stay dead, close my eyes
Feel you he
Forever
Ewe and meat, together, nothing is better
Cause there's side to you that I never knew, never knew
All the things you say, they would never chew, never chew
And the games you play, you would always win, always will
I said, "Fire hair."
To the rain
Watch it, boy,
As I test your face
Well, it burned while I cry cause I heard ice cream in out your name
Your name
I said, "Fire hair."
To the rain
And I put us into the flames
Well, it fell
Something died
Cause I knew thought that was the last thyme
The last thyme
Sometimes I wake up by the dog
And Hart U. Gone must be waiting for you
Even lie when there aren't any "over"
I can't help myself from looking for you
But I said, "Fire hair."
To the rain
Watch it, boy,
As I test your face
Well, it burned while I cry cause I heard ice cream in out your name
Your name
I said, "Fire hair."
To the rain
And I put us into the flames
Well, it fell
Something died
Cause I knew thought that was the last thyme
The last thyme
Let it burn
Let it, Bourne
Let it, Bern-----ie
Write on!
Clove
8.22.2013
Writing challenge #2
So you see...
In my story, I realized I hit a really boring dialogue scene where young adults are basically doing business. Not the most exciting thing to put in a story, if you know what I mean, but necessary nonetheless.
So I decided, heck, since they're doing shady business in a dark pub, why not start a bar fight when the consulting is over to make it fuller and more dramatic? But then I hit another writer's block wall with an incapability to get the right tone. I think bar fights are supposed to be messy, smoky, Lord of the Rings - esque, loud, and with much language involved, but...
Well...
Who am I to know?
Then, when I had that half-sorted out, I hit another writer's block wall in editing. (Yeah, it's been a long day.) How do you jump from perfectly calm to boisterous in a matter of seconds? How can you phrase dialogue to be low and diplomatic then straight to snarling and hating? That snap up is what I'm challenging you, author, to write.
It doesn't have to be in the scene of a bar, but it does have to maintain fluency in the snap of emotion to emotion. Sooo many of my old stories have tried this and failed epically. I thought that, since they do it in the movies, I could just write:
It was a good day to be out on a walk. Ginormous white clouds seemed to have blossomed in the blue dirt of the sky, and a slight breeze was rustling the hems of Eriana's dress. As she was strolling along the garden paths, humming a tune and picking lilies, Cass suddenly ran out in a bustle, crying loudly, "Mutiny! The soldiers are rebelling against the King!"
"What?!"
Yeahhhhh.....
That's the sort of snap that's going to turn ALL of your reader's noses. A written snap requires patience and slow working up. Unfortunately, the reader can't gain information like he would in real life; if there is detail, it must be told.
It was a good day to be out on a walk. Ginormous white clouds seemed to have blossomed in the blue dirt of the sky, and a slight breeze was rustling the hems of Eriana's dress. As she was strolling along the garden paths, humming a tune and picking lilies, she suddenly caught the faint, peculiar smell of smoke.
Rising in curiosity, Eriana tensed when she heard a man's cry, then several more. Concerned with the noise and aromas, Eriana put her flowers down and moved swiftly to the castle. She didn't have time to get inside before Cass, her clothes torn and ragged, large blood-stains soaking her front, ran up and dropped to her knees, sobbing and panting.
"Cass? Cass, what is it? What's wrong?! Are you hurt?" Eriana bent down and began feeling her servant for any open wounds.
The girl was overcome in emotion, but she managed to jerk out of Eriana's grasp with an exclamation. Impatient and panicked, Eriana looked into Cass' dilated white eyes, beckoning her servant again. "Cass, what is it?"
"Mutiny, my lady. Mutiny! The soldiers are rebelling against the King!"
"What?!"
A little better, no? Have fun with this challenge, and if you like your work a lot, post it in the comments below! :)
Write on!
Clove
In my story, I realized I hit a really boring dialogue scene where young adults are basically doing business. Not the most exciting thing to put in a story, if you know what I mean, but necessary nonetheless.
So I decided, heck, since they're doing shady business in a dark pub, why not start a bar fight when the consulting is over to make it fuller and more dramatic? But then I hit another writer's block wall with an incapability to get the right tone. I think bar fights are supposed to be messy, smoky, Lord of the Rings - esque, loud, and with much language involved, but...
Well...
Who am I to know?
Then, when I had that half-sorted out, I hit another writer's block wall in editing. (Yeah, it's been a long day.) How do you jump from perfectly calm to boisterous in a matter of seconds? How can you phrase dialogue to be low and diplomatic then straight to snarling and hating? That snap up is what I'm challenging you, author, to write.
It doesn't have to be in the scene of a bar, but it does have to maintain fluency in the snap of emotion to emotion. Sooo many of my old stories have tried this and failed epically. I thought that, since they do it in the movies, I could just write:
It was a good day to be out on a walk. Ginormous white clouds seemed to have blossomed in the blue dirt of the sky, and a slight breeze was rustling the hems of Eriana's dress. As she was strolling along the garden paths, humming a tune and picking lilies, Cass suddenly ran out in a bustle, crying loudly, "Mutiny! The soldiers are rebelling against the King!"
"What?!"
Yeahhhhh.....
That's the sort of snap that's going to turn ALL of your reader's noses. A written snap requires patience and slow working up. Unfortunately, the reader can't gain information like he would in real life; if there is detail, it must be told.
It was a good day to be out on a walk. Ginormous white clouds seemed to have blossomed in the blue dirt of the sky, and a slight breeze was rustling the hems of Eriana's dress. As she was strolling along the garden paths, humming a tune and picking lilies, she suddenly caught the faint, peculiar smell of smoke.
Rising in curiosity, Eriana tensed when she heard a man's cry, then several more. Concerned with the noise and aromas, Eriana put her flowers down and moved swiftly to the castle. She didn't have time to get inside before Cass, her clothes torn and ragged, large blood-stains soaking her front, ran up and dropped to her knees, sobbing and panting.
"Cass? Cass, what is it? What's wrong?! Are you hurt?" Eriana bent down and began feeling her servant for any open wounds.
The girl was overcome in emotion, but she managed to jerk out of Eriana's grasp with an exclamation. Impatient and panicked, Eriana looked into Cass' dilated white eyes, beckoning her servant again. "Cass, what is it?"
"Mutiny, my lady. Mutiny! The soldiers are rebelling against the King!"
"What?!"
A little better, no? Have fun with this challenge, and if you like your work a lot, post it in the comments below! :)
Write on!
Clove
8.21.2013
What I Hear - Mirrors
So Justin Timbermakes-me-so-crazy-I-think-I'm-going-to-shoot-myself came out with a song a couple months or so ago called "Mirrors". My older brother and I laugh at the song whenever we hear it on the radio because Justin sings with a slur of sorts and contracts a lot of words that aren't real contractions, making his original lyrics impossible to understand.
Now.
What has this to do with writing, you may ask?
Well, because Justin's singing style is so indistinguishable, I thought I'd do a written caption fail.
(Don't know what a caption fail is?
Watch this:
Teeheehee, those guys are great, aren't they? I love Julian Smith's face in the window. XD)
Now the difference is that instead of repeating what Youtube's captions say, I'm going to repeat what I hear.
Literally.
I'm going to write down the lyrics to Justin Timberlake's "Mirrors" as my brain interprets them, word for word. You can compare my version with the lyrics in the video below and see how I did.
So without further ado, click the button below and follow along.
I'm just something to a mire
Cause you're shining something like a mirror
And I can't help but notice
You're reflect in so hard of mine
If you're ever at home
And the gram makes me hard to fine
Just know that I'm always parallel from the other side
Cause with your hand in my hair
And a pocketful of soap
I can tell you there's no place they could've
Koh???
Just put your hand on my lass
Boy, you gotta play it through
You just gotta be strong
Cause I don't want to lose you now
I'm looking right at the other hat of me
The bigger singer sat on my eye
There's a space
And now you're home
Show me how the fight for now
And I tell you, baby, it was easy
Coming back unto you once I figured it out
You were right here all alone
It's like you're my mirror
Come here
And staring back at me
I couldn't get any bigger
But then he wanted the set of me
And now it's clear as his prom missed that we'll make it
Two reflections and two rum
Cause it's like you're my mirror
Come here
And staring back at me
Staring back at me
Aren't you something?
And original
Cause it doesn't seem to make any sample
And I can't help but stack some cause I see truth some in your eyes
I can't ever change without you
You reflect me, and I love that
Achoo
And if I could, I'd look at us all the time
Cause with your hand in my hair
And a pocketful of soap
I can tell you there's no place they could've
Koh???
Just put your hand on my lass
Boy, you gotta play it through
You just gotta be strong
Cause I don't want to lose you now
I'm looking right at the other hat of me
The bigger singer sat on my eye
There's a space
And now you're home
Show me how the fight for now
And I tell you, baby, it was easy
Coming back unto you once I figured it out
You were right here all alone
It's like you're my mirror
Come here
And staring back at me
I couldn't get any bigger
But then he wanted the set of me
And now it's clear as his prom missed that we'll make it
Two reflections and two rum
Cause it's like you're my mirror
Come here
And staring back at me
Staring back at me
Yes, his story is mystery
Tomorrow's a missed her
Eeek!
I can see elephant looking back at me
Can your eyes on me
Baby, key your eyes on me
Cause I don't want to lose your now
I'm looking right at the other hat of me
The bigger singer sat on my eye
There's a space
And now you're home
Show me how the fight for now
And I tell you, baby, it was easy
Coming back unto you once I figured it out
You were right here all alone
It's like you're my mirror
Come here
And staring back at me
I couldn't get any bigger
But then he wanted the set of me
And now it's clear as his prom missed that we'll make it
Two reflections and two rum
Cause it's like you're my mirror
Come here
And staring back at me
Staring back at me
And that, ladies and gentlemen, is why I don't write lyrics as an occupation! :D Hope you liked that. It's been a long day at school, and I needed to laugh, so there you have it. More will be coming! *evil chuckle*
Write on!
Clove
8.20.2013
Irony
Irony is one of those wonderful tactics in writing. I'm personally used to seeing it in Greek tragedy poems, but it's still classically done in modern day fiction.
If you didn't get from the above picture, irony is basically when you say something and mean the exact opposite. You could see a cement wall that has the graffiti printed on it that says, "Stop vandalizing walls."
That would be humorous irony, a snapshot of life that twists your dimensions and makes you laugh. Comic artists, particularly Gary Larson, do a great job of this, and if you don't have a natural mind for conjuring irony, read some of his stuff. (My favorite of his works if Wildlife Preserves where the front cover picture is a bunch of safari animals bottled up in huge glass jars. x) Gets me every time.)
In a more tragic manner, you could have a character like Roy Mustang from Fullmetal Alchemist Brotherhood
SPOILER'S ALERT
*glares at spoiler's alert for interrupting* *clears throat*
...as I was saying...
Roy Mustang, who, as a military leader, envisions all the things he could do to improve his peoples' lives if he became leader of his country. He ends up losing his physical vision in equal exchange for the superior mental vision he has for his country.
END SPOILER'S ALERT
That's also irony, but there's not the slightest thing funny about it. (Mustang's a character you learn to admire over the anime.) On the other hand, yes, the irony is plain sad, but also, it makes a serious point in the anime.
Then you have foreshadowing irony which is like where...you get all psyched about Frodo going on a journey after you read about Bilbo going on a journey and then...ten pages in...end up getting seriously let down when J.R.R. Tolkein kills you with Elvish choirs.
One of the reasons why I enjoy irony so much is because most average readers won't notice the written irony until they re-read the book. If you fill a book with a good amount of foreshadowing irony, the book can be read over and over and over with the same level of excitement and "oh-did-you-notice-this?'s".
That being said, does anyone find it ironic that I just wrote a full blog post on irony and yet still can't find a single way to involve it in my stories?
Write on!
Clove
8.19.2013
Feedback Wanted!
I love you. You're great. You're a wonderful person. Really.
Now will you give me the moon?
No?
Will you give me a million bucks?
No?
Well, will you at least give me some feedback?
Ahahahah, I've been doing too much philosophizing recently, and my brain has begun to gush mush, like the sort of thing up there. Literally. Last night, I was so distraught with thoughts that I threw my pillow on the ground and slept on the hard floor so the comfortability factor (or lack thereof) could get me to stop thinking and fall asleep.
Bruhhh, so anyway, I was meaning to ask you all if you could read a little bit of something I wrote this morning and tell me if it makes sense.
Overview:
This is part of the chapter where Millis is back to being thirteen years old. He's in ELI, his assassin school, and it's the night before he's tested to see if he meets all the requisites for becoming an official student. The backstory is necessary 1.) because I WANT TO WRITE IT and 2.) because this also explains how Millis went from being just a Hunter to a Rager as well. (In case if you didn't remember from my sketchy outline, a Hunter is someone skilled in tracking like Hyn, and a Rager is someone who is able to enter a berserking mode at the cost of unconsciousness immediately after.)
I really want the feedback because, in part of writing "as a guy", I put in a lot of dialogue since I can't guess what males think, but I'm afraid the dialogue is too...confusing, as in you can't tell who is speaking.
So please read and tell me if/where I need to clarify. Gratias tibi mei ago!
Back to the Moment
July 30, 3007
10:05 P.M.
“So...the test is tomorrow.”
“Hyn, tell me something I don’t know--”
“You’re scared?”
“Of course not.”
Kaes knew Hyn was looking sidelong at him. The answer had been too quick in escaping, and he added, “Not of the test, no.”
“Of...” Hyn glanced at the dark sky. “Vulcan?”
A silence hung in the air as Kaes folded his hands behind his head and licked his lips, swallowing silently.
Hyn laughed. “I’ll take that silence to mean you are.”
“Dude, what the--”
“I’m not.”
Kaes shouldered his friend in the arm as they walked the cement sidewalks of ELI, and Hyn stumbled off the pathway, laughing again. “Well, I’m not.”
“And I’d like to get that on tape for tomorrow.”
“You can if you want.”
“I will.”
Hyn snorted. “Wuss.”
“Dude, I never said I was scared of Vulcan.”
“You never denied it.”
“Well, I’m not.”
“Yeah? Then what’s the long-face for, huh?”
“What, I can’t be serious the night before we take a test to decide our future?”
“Dude, if you put it that way--”
Kaes crossed his arms and stopped his stride. Hyn paused a few steps ahead and looked back with a quizzical raise of his eyebrows. When Kaes said nothing, Hyn quieted his jocular voice and asked, “Hey, man, what’s up?”
“What’s up is that this is real, Hyn. Like the legit test.”
“And?”
Kaes didn’t answer, and Hyn took a step forward, clapping his hand on Kaes’ shoulder.
“Dude, chill, okay? It’ll be fine. They won’t throw anything at us that we won’t know, right?”
“Yeah...” Kaes licked his perpetually-dry lips again. “For you, maybe.”
Hyn groaned. “Kaes Rider, we’ve been in this school for the same amount of time with the same amount of practice from the same foster home; what the heck do you think could go wrong?”
Seeing the sense in Hyn’s statement, Kaes shook himself from his dull moment of nervousness and replied for the sake of arguing, “But we’re not like biologically related though. So we have different genes.”
“Different genes?” Hyn saw the change in Kaes and laughed. “That's true. You just wish you had my DNA.”
Kaes woke up the next morning to a pillow at his face. With a grunt, he grabbed it the second time it came down and used it to pry himself out of bed. Hyn was holding the other end of the pillow, already in his black test uniform.
“Dude, what the heck--”
“It’s Lei; she left a note under the door. Kaes, she locked our door.”
“Lei locked our door? Is this what this is all--” Kaes cut himself off, turned, and hit his head against the wooden frame of the upper bunk several times. He whipped around when he felt his point was clear and stared into Hyn’s eyes, looking up a few inches to do so. “Dude. Ever think of...um...unlocking it? Geez, Hyn. What the--”
The golden-haired teen across from Kaes cut him off. “Kaes, she locked it from the outside. Read the note.”
Kaes blinked a few times and shouldered past Hyn to the door, ignoring whatever Lei had scrawled in red on a sheet of paper. Sure enough, the doorknob had been taken out and reinstalled backwards. He twisted the handle, but it didn’t move more than a few millimeters in either direction. “Peachy.”
“Now what?”
Kaes glanced at a clock hung on the wall of their dormitory room. Twenty minutes until the test started, and it took at least ten to get to the site.
“Open the window and knot those bedcovers. I’m going to get changed.”
Kaes peered out of the small two-feet-by-two-feet window and felt his stomach lurch. Hyn’s shoulder pressed up against his own, and Kaes unconsciously tugged on the ends of a spur-of-the-moment rope they had created out of bedsheets. Despite their sudden strike of resourcefulness, it would only reach to the top of the first floor. They’d have to jump to the ground from there.
“Lei’s going to--”
Kaes elbowed his friend. “Save it for the test.” Methodically, he tied the rope to the sturdy bunk and lowered it out of the window. With a sweeping bow, he looked at Hyn and said, “Ladies first.”
Hyn bowed in return and leapt up to the windowsill with the words, “Pearls before swine.”
With that, he ducked out of the window and slid down to where the rope ended, too late in hearing Kaes shout, “You’re not even using that phrase correctly!”
When Hyn was safely on the ground, Kaes took a deep breath and released it. He had no head for heights, but it’d be worse to be late to the test. Gripping the rope with knees and fists, Kaes slowly let himself down until he was dangling twelve feet from the ground.
Hyn looked up at him and added, “Any day now.”
“Shut up.”
Kaes looked down and dropped, falling on all fours. The landing jarred his bones up to his joints, and he had scraped his hands on the cement pavement, but otherwise, he was still intact and living.
Hyn gave him a hand up and jerked back when he felt Kaes' warm beads of blood press against his own palm. “Ouch. Dude, you okay?”
Ignoring the slight pain, Kaes nodded and wiped his hands on his dark pants. “Yeah. Let’s go.”
Write on!
Clove
P.S. A lot of inspiration for this little section was garnered from this video. It's a good watch regardless of what you use it for. ;)
Now will you give me the moon?
No?
Will you give me a million bucks?
No?
Well, will you at least give me some feedback?
Ahahahah, I've been doing too much philosophizing recently, and my brain has begun to gush mush, like the sort of thing up there. Literally. Last night, I was so distraught with thoughts that I threw my pillow on the ground and slept on the hard floor so the comfortability factor (or lack thereof) could get me to stop thinking and fall asleep.
Bruhhh, so anyway, I was meaning to ask you all if you could read a little bit of something I wrote this morning and tell me if it makes sense.
Overview:
This is part of the chapter where Millis is back to being thirteen years old. He's in ELI, his assassin school, and it's the night before he's tested to see if he meets all the requisites for becoming an official student. The backstory is necessary 1.) because I WANT TO WRITE IT and 2.) because this also explains how Millis went from being just a Hunter to a Rager as well. (In case if you didn't remember from my sketchy outline, a Hunter is someone skilled in tracking like Hyn, and a Rager is someone who is able to enter a berserking mode at the cost of unconsciousness immediately after.)
I really want the feedback because, in part of writing "as a guy", I put in a lot of dialogue since I can't guess what males think, but I'm afraid the dialogue is too...confusing, as in you can't tell who is speaking.
So please read and tell me if/where I need to clarify. Gratias tibi mei ago!
~ ~ ~
Back to the Moment
July 30, 3007
10:05 P.M.
“So...the test is tomorrow.”
“Hyn, tell me something I don’t know--”
“You’re scared?”
“Of course not.”
Kaes knew Hyn was looking sidelong at him. The answer had been too quick in escaping, and he added, “Not of the test, no.”
“Of...” Hyn glanced at the dark sky. “Vulcan?”
A silence hung in the air as Kaes folded his hands behind his head and licked his lips, swallowing silently.
Hyn laughed. “I’ll take that silence to mean you are.”
“Dude, what the--”
“I’m not.”
Kaes shouldered his friend in the arm as they walked the cement sidewalks of ELI, and Hyn stumbled off the pathway, laughing again. “Well, I’m not.”
“And I’d like to get that on tape for tomorrow.”
“You can if you want.”
“I will.”
Hyn snorted. “Wuss.”
“Dude, I never said I was scared of Vulcan.”
“You never denied it.”
“Well, I’m not.”
“Yeah? Then what’s the long-face for, huh?”
“What, I can’t be serious the night before we take a test to decide our future?”
“Dude, if you put it that way--”
Kaes crossed his arms and stopped his stride. Hyn paused a few steps ahead and looked back with a quizzical raise of his eyebrows. When Kaes said nothing, Hyn quieted his jocular voice and asked, “Hey, man, what’s up?”
“What’s up is that this is real, Hyn. Like the legit test.”
“And?”
Kaes didn’t answer, and Hyn took a step forward, clapping his hand on Kaes’ shoulder.
“Dude, chill, okay? It’ll be fine. They won’t throw anything at us that we won’t know, right?”
“Yeah...” Kaes licked his perpetually-dry lips again. “For you, maybe.”
Hyn groaned. “Kaes Rider, we’ve been in this school for the same amount of time with the same amount of practice from the same foster home; what the heck do you think could go wrong?”
Seeing the sense in Hyn’s statement, Kaes shook himself from his dull moment of nervousness and replied for the sake of arguing, “But we’re not like biologically related though. So we have different genes.”
“Different genes?” Hyn saw the change in Kaes and laughed. “That's true. You just wish you had my DNA.”
Kaes woke up the next morning to a pillow at his face. With a grunt, he grabbed it the second time it came down and used it to pry himself out of bed. Hyn was holding the other end of the pillow, already in his black test uniform.
“Dude, what the heck--”
“It’s Lei; she left a note under the door. Kaes, she locked our door.”
“Lei locked our door? Is this what this is all--” Kaes cut himself off, turned, and hit his head against the wooden frame of the upper bunk several times. He whipped around when he felt his point was clear and stared into Hyn’s eyes, looking up a few inches to do so. “Dude. Ever think of...um...unlocking it? Geez, Hyn. What the--”
The golden-haired teen across from Kaes cut him off. “Kaes, she locked it from the outside. Read the note.”
Kaes blinked a few times and shouldered past Hyn to the door, ignoring whatever Lei had scrawled in red on a sheet of paper. Sure enough, the doorknob had been taken out and reinstalled backwards. He twisted the handle, but it didn’t move more than a few millimeters in either direction. “Peachy.”
“Now what?”
Kaes glanced at a clock hung on the wall of their dormitory room. Twenty minutes until the test started, and it took at least ten to get to the site.
“Open the window and knot those bedcovers. I’m going to get changed.”
Kaes peered out of the small two-feet-by-two-feet window and felt his stomach lurch. Hyn’s shoulder pressed up against his own, and Kaes unconsciously tugged on the ends of a spur-of-the-moment rope they had created out of bedsheets. Despite their sudden strike of resourcefulness, it would only reach to the top of the first floor. They’d have to jump to the ground from there.
“Lei’s going to--”
Kaes elbowed his friend. “Save it for the test.” Methodically, he tied the rope to the sturdy bunk and lowered it out of the window. With a sweeping bow, he looked at Hyn and said, “Ladies first.”
Hyn bowed in return and leapt up to the windowsill with the words, “Pearls before swine.”
With that, he ducked out of the window and slid down to where the rope ended, too late in hearing Kaes shout, “You’re not even using that phrase correctly!”
When Hyn was safely on the ground, Kaes took a deep breath and released it. He had no head for heights, but it’d be worse to be late to the test. Gripping the rope with knees and fists, Kaes slowly let himself down until he was dangling twelve feet from the ground.
Hyn looked up at him and added, “Any day now.”
“Shut up.”
Kaes looked down and dropped, falling on all fours. The landing jarred his bones up to his joints, and he had scraped his hands on the cement pavement, but otherwise, he was still intact and living.
Hyn gave him a hand up and jerked back when he felt Kaes' warm beads of blood press against his own palm. “Ouch. Dude, you okay?”
Ignoring the slight pain, Kaes nodded and wiped his hands on his dark pants. “Yeah. Let’s go.”
Write on!
Clove
P.S. A lot of inspiration for this little section was garnered from this video. It's a good watch regardless of what you use it for. ;)
8.18.2013
Friend Quotes
Call me sentimental, but I’ve been giving some overthoughts (I told you; I made it an official word, okay?) to my physical relationships recently. In doing so, I dug up some old friend quotes that I thought were worth sharing for both their depth and eloquence. So, in order, here are my top five favorite friend quotes:
Number 5:
~The Princess Bride (novel, not movie)
Number 4:
~Till We Have Faces
Number 3:
~Fullmetal Alchemist: Brotherhood
Number 2:
~Confessions
Number 1 (feel free to quote with me):
~Lord of the Rings
Write on!
Clove
Number 5:
“I love you. I know this must come as something of a surprise since all I've ever done is scorn you and degrade you and taunt you, but I have loved you for several hours now, and every second, more. I thought an hour ago that I loved you more than any woman has ever loved a man, but a half hour after that, I knew that what I felt before was nothing compared to what I felt then. But ten minutes after that, I understood that my previous love was a puddle compared to the high seas before a storm. Your eyes are like that, did you know? Well, they are. How many minutes ago was I? Twenty? Had I brought my feelings up to then? It doesn't matter. I love you so much more now than twenty minutes ago that there cannot be comparison. I love you so much more now than when you opened your hovel door, there cannot be comparison. There is no room in my body for anything but you. My arms love you, my ears adore you, my knees shake with blind affection. My mind begs you to ask it something so it can obey. Do you want me to follow you for the rest of your days? I will do that. Do you want me to crawl? I will crawl. I will be quiet for you or sing for you, or if you are hungry let me bring you food, or if you have thirst and nothing will quench it but Arabian wine, I will go to Araby, even though it is across the world, and bring a bottle back for your lunch. Anything there is that I can do for you, I will do for you. Anything there is that I cannot do, I will learn to do. I know I cannot compete with the Countess in skills or wisdom, and I saw the way she looked at you. And I saw the way you looked at her. But remember, please, that she is old and has other interests, while I am seventeen and for me there is only you. Dearest Westley--I've never called you that before, have I?--Westley, Westley, Westley, Westley, Westley,darling Westley, adored Westley, sweet perfect Westley, whisper that I have a chance to win your love.”~Buttercup
~The Princess Bride (novel, not movie)
Number 4:
“Now mark yet again the cruelty of the gods. There is no escape from them into sleep or madness, for they can pursue you into them with dreams. Indeed you are then most at their mercy. The nearest thing we have to a defense against them (but there is no real defense) is to be very wide awake and sober and hard at work, to hear no music, never to look at earth or sky, and (above all) to love no one.”~C.S. Lewis
~Till We Have Faces
Number 3:
“There's no such thing as a painless lesson...they just don't exist. Sacrifices are necessary. You can't gain anything without losing something first. Although...if you can endure that pain and walk away from it, you will find that you now have a heart strong enough to overcome any obstacle...yeah...a heart made fullmetal.”~Edward Elric
~Fullmetal Alchemist: Brotherhood
Number 2:
“This is what we cherish in friendship, and we cherish it so dearly that, in conscience, we feel guilty if we do not return love for love, asking no more of our friends than these expressions of goodwill. This is why we mourn their death, which shrouds us in sorrow and turns joy into bitterness, so that the heart is drenched in tears and life becomes a living death because a friend is lost. Blessed are those who love You, oh God, and love their friends in You and their enemies for Your sake. They alone will never lose those who are dear to them, for they love them in One who is never lost, in God, our God who made heaven and earth and fills them with His presence, because by filling them He made them. No one can lose You, my God, unless he forsakes You, and if he forsakes You, where is he to go? If he abandons Your love, his only refuge is Your wrath. Wherever he turns, he will find Your law to punish him for Your law is the truth and the truth is Yourself.”~Saint Augustine
~Confessions
Number 1 (feel free to quote with me):
“Men of Gondor and of Rohan! My brothers! I see in your eyes the same fear that would take the heart of me! A day may come when the courage of men fails, when we forsake our friends and break all bonds of fellowship, but it is not this day! An hour of wolves and shattered shields! When the age of men comes crashing down!~Aragorn
BUT IT IS NOT THIS DAY!
THIS DAY WE FIGHT!!!
By all that you hold dear, on this good earth, I BID YOU STAND, MEN OF THE WEST!!!”
~Lord of the Rings
Write on!
Clove
8.17.2013
Text from Last Night
I don't run because I'm training or want to stay in peak condition. I don't run because I'm scared of what's behind me. I don't run because I want to better my physical appearance.
I run because I like it.
It was misting last night, as dark as any man's heart with full cloud cover. A cold chill has set into Georgia over the past few days, and despite the fact that it's still mid-August, Kait caught me singing 'Rudolph, the Red-Nosed Reindeer'. In a way, I always mourn winter, and when I get a satisfactory taste of the icy wind, searing my fingers numb, I get filled with unimaginable energy.
It was late when I got back from baby-sitting, a little before ten when Dad, Josh, and I got onto the streets.
I have no restraint when I run. The whole way, Josh kept laughing at me for going, then stopping, then going. It's in him, with his natural mind for teaching, to critique the loss of my exercise, but it's in me, with my natural mind for inspiration and philosophy, to not give a care to that.
If I throw my hands up when I run, it's because I wish I could touch the stars.
If I sprint all out, it's because I feel this static in my head that I want to leave behind.
If I walk, it's because I want to enjoy the night, savor the experience, and let it infuse my essence.
When I run, I forget a lot of what habit I've picked up. It's just cold. Cold, palming my cheeks, cold, sliding fingers down my lower back, cold, draining anything within me.
I run because I like it.
Write on!
Clove
Get out of habit. Quit running because you have to. Run because you want to.
I run because I like it.
It was misting last night, as dark as any man's heart with full cloud cover. A cold chill has set into Georgia over the past few days, and despite the fact that it's still mid-August, Kait caught me singing 'Rudolph, the Red-Nosed Reindeer'. In a way, I always mourn winter, and when I get a satisfactory taste of the icy wind, searing my fingers numb, I get filled with unimaginable energy.
It was late when I got back from baby-sitting, a little before ten when Dad, Josh, and I got onto the streets.
I have no restraint when I run. The whole way, Josh kept laughing at me for going, then stopping, then going. It's in him, with his natural mind for teaching, to critique the loss of my exercise, but it's in me, with my natural mind for inspiration and philosophy, to not give a care to that.
If I throw my hands up when I run, it's because I wish I could touch the stars.
If I sprint all out, it's because I feel this static in my head that I want to leave behind.
If I walk, it's because I want to enjoy the night, savor the experience, and let it infuse my essence.
When I run, I forget a lot of what habit I've picked up. It's just cold. Cold, palming my cheeks, cold, sliding fingers down my lower back, cold, draining anything within me.
I run because I like it.
Write on!
Clove
Get out of habit. Quit running because you have to. Run because you want to.
8.15.2013
Don't Overthink It
The red squiggly lines under "overthink" and the fact that my computer just auto corrected "overthink" to be "over think" must mean it's not a real word. Well, I'm making it one, here and now. Overthink is an official compound word, along with overthinking and overthoughts.
Anyways.
Hello, everyone.
I thought today I would discuss the danger of overthinking story plots because overthoughts have grown in their mental appearance rates recently. My older brother and I are currently co-writing a story--it's loads of fun--and we seem to have a problem, typical of us nerds, to overthink some aspects.
For maybe three months or so, we've kept each other up till midnight or later, discussing various aspects of our story's plot. You all would have NO idea how much our current working has changed from what its original seed was...really. :)
So CDO (OCD, but with the letters in alphabetical order as they should be) person that I am, I'll be doing two things here in an outline form:
1.) I'll be exhorting you all to co-write a story.
Josh and I originally, originally, originally decided to do our story because we felt like we weren't spending quite as much hang-time together as we had used to and wanted to find something mature to do that we both liked, something not video games. :P
Not only have we grown together socially and spiritually, but as I mentioned, I found that co-authorship is TONS of fun. I get to pick his brain, and he picks mine. It's exhilarating to see how he writes a story...and weird at the same time.
(I mean, how can you do a story plot and character development all at once? It's so much easier to just write the plot and put in character development where it's needed. *pointed glare*)
2.) *clears throat* I'll be exhorting you all to not overthink your stories.
Often, we authors can get overwhelmed with the numerous aspects we want to include in our stories, all the drama and epicness and particular dialogue scenes...just because they're "awesome". For a good plot to emerge, those overthoughts should be written down and forgotten, and when the actual writing comes down, it's not hard to just copy-paste and bam--
Epic scene.
Also, in terms of overthinking (stop auto-correcting you darn computer), remember that if you find a loophole, you don't have to change the threads of your story. You merely have to close the loophole. Well...like this:
Josh's and my group needs to get from place A to place B, but there's no reason for them to do that aside from the fact that the plot NEEDS them to. ;) So, instead of trashing the idea that the group gets from place A to place B, we merely came up with a legit, back-storied reason for them to go.
Sounds simple, right?
You'd be surprised how many times we tried to trash legit stuff because we couldn't find motives.
In a fiction story, the whole world is yours. Don't stress about reasons or motives; those things come easily if you add in a small back-plot. When creating a plot, keep the word "play-doh" in your mind - be moldable, shapable, and when you're done, don't be fickle and doubtful of if you've got a good thing. You can still cover the cracks with more dough or chip away at old things you don't want.
Keep it simple. Keep it flexible. Don't think overthoughts.
Write on!
Clove
Anyways.
Hello, everyone.
I thought today I would discuss the danger of overthinking story plots because overthoughts have grown in their mental appearance rates recently. My older brother and I are currently co-writing a story--it's loads of fun--and we seem to have a problem, typical of us nerds, to overthink some aspects.
For maybe three months or so, we've kept each other up till midnight or later, discussing various aspects of our story's plot. You all would have NO idea how much our current working has changed from what its original seed was...really. :)
So CDO (OCD, but with the letters in alphabetical order as they should be) person that I am, I'll be doing two things here in an outline form:
1.) I'll be exhorting you all to co-write a story.
Josh and I originally, originally, originally decided to do our story because we felt like we weren't spending quite as much hang-time together as we had used to and wanted to find something mature to do that we both liked, something not video games. :P
Not only have we grown together socially and spiritually, but as I mentioned, I found that co-authorship is TONS of fun. I get to pick his brain, and he picks mine. It's exhilarating to see how he writes a story...and weird at the same time.
(I mean, how can you do a story plot and character development all at once? It's so much easier to just write the plot and put in character development where it's needed. *pointed glare*)
2.) *clears throat* I'll be exhorting you all to not overthink your stories.
Often, we authors can get overwhelmed with the numerous aspects we want to include in our stories, all the drama and epicness and particular dialogue scenes...just because they're "awesome". For a good plot to emerge, those overthoughts should be written down and forgotten, and when the actual writing comes down, it's not hard to just copy-paste and bam--
Epic scene.
Also, in terms of overthinking (stop auto-correcting you darn computer), remember that if you find a loophole, you don't have to change the threads of your story. You merely have to close the loophole. Well...like this:
Josh's and my group needs to get from place A to place B, but there's no reason for them to do that aside from the fact that the plot NEEDS them to. ;) So, instead of trashing the idea that the group gets from place A to place B, we merely came up with a legit, back-storied reason for them to go.
Sounds simple, right?
You'd be surprised how many times we tried to trash legit stuff because we couldn't find motives.
In a fiction story, the whole world is yours. Don't stress about reasons or motives; those things come easily if you add in a small back-plot. When creating a plot, keep the word "play-doh" in your mind - be moldable, shapable, and when you're done, don't be fickle and doubtful of if you've got a good thing. You can still cover the cracks with more dough or chip away at old things you don't want.
Keep it simple. Keep it flexible. Don't think overthoughts.
Write on!
Clove
8.12.2013
Hunger Games, Divergent, etc.
My guess is that most of you all have either read the Hunger Games series or its sainted cousin, the Divergent series. Both books have gained a good bit of publicity recently, and, as a teenager with insatiable curiosity, I was curious as to why.
So.
Here, in its concluded form, are my 3 Reasons Why Series Like the Hunger Games and Divergent Are So Famous to us teenagers along with 3 writing tips for each reason.
1.) The adrenaline spike.
Both books are written in such a way that the main character is either in the throes of change, in danger, or in some gorgeous guy's arms. If that happened to me 24/7, I'd be pretty much living it (and in need of healthier adrenal glands). But, instead of dealing with the heartbreak, mass murder, and pain that accompanies those three things, I'd rather be reading a book of someone ELSE living the life, yeah?
Get the good without the bad.
That to say, if you're wanting to write in this modern-sci-fi-adventure-romance genre, you'll want to keep away from dull moments, too much exposition, and too much description. Keep the action flowing. :)
2.) Ummm...lemme see...how do I say this...exactly? Er...lemme think...uhhhhhhhh...
...
*FOOOUUUR!!!* *GAAAAAALE!!!* *PEEETAAAAAAHH!!!*
*everyone glares at person who yelled 'Peeta'*
...something like that.
Suzanne Collins and Veronica Roth both have the capabilities to make their significant others really, really, really...significant. I honestly can't really comment on my opinion, since most of the time when I'm reading a book where a character's personality/body description is flaunted, I'm reading as a student, picking up sentence structure and words so I can do the same thing with my characters...
Mhm, yeah.
Geeky me.
I STILL HAVE A SOCIAL LIFE, OKAY? x)
But I can comment on a writing tip, which would be this:
Remember as you write your modern-sci-fi-adventure-romance book that you'll want your significant other to be as alive as possible. Make him or her a real gentleman/gentlewoman with real weaknesses and real strengths and real social embarrassments, not someone who is seriously overpowered and sexy and...has a tendency to kiss when hot and...sweaty. (Catch the rhyme? =^.^=)
3.) Finally and most importantly, books like these give the reader a physical push.
Come on.
Admit it.
Most of us are jaded teens, spending way too much time staring our faces pale in front of a computer screen. Our lives are too busy and ultimately too boring to learn martial arts, how to shoot a gun, or snare wildlife with tree saplings. The work is simply too hard, too sweaty, and doesn't have dramatic film music playing in the background.
Also - Daniel Boone died decades ago.
And it doesn't come in an epic montage.
And dangit, it costs money.
So instead, we'll pick up books where SPOILER'S ALERT a girl nearly gets thrown over a chasm to her death, a girl faces Mario fireballs in real life, a girl has to watch her friend get beat up by her enemy without intervention, a girl sings a younger girl to death, a girl climbs a ferris wheel in a game of paintball, and both girls are harassed sexually just to give the notion that they're attractive. END SPOILER'S ALERT
Again, the good without the bad.
However, a well-done modern-sci-fi-adventure-romance book WILL give a slight physical push to the reader. The reader WILL find the drive to get up and do some of the awesome things named above.
Or why else do you think archery spiked after the Hunger Games came out?
On the other hand, be careful not to overdo it. Some people, who have experience with said incidents, will consider your book dark and violent. SPOILER'S ALERT For example, in Divergent, there's a fight between two girls, and one girl is basically beat up until she's sobbing and bloody. END SPOILER'S ALERT That struck an ugly chord in me since I've seen stuff like that happen. It might be exciting for someone else to read, but for me, I'm skimming pages, clenching my jaw and hoping the fight will be over.
Everything is different in life.
And that's why if you write a well-done book where life is sugar-coated and exciting with hot guys and lots of fire and tattoos and drinking and roofs, there will be a lot of attraction. You're basically selling a cooler life to the reader.
Agree? Disagree? The comments box is below. :)
Write on!
Clove
So.
Here, in its concluded form, are my 3 Reasons Why Series Like the Hunger Games and Divergent Are So Famous to us teenagers along with 3 writing tips for each reason.
1.) The adrenaline spike.
Both books are written in such a way that the main character is either in the throes of change, in danger, or in some gorgeous guy's arms. If that happened to me 24/7, I'd be pretty much living it (and in need of healthier adrenal glands). But, instead of dealing with the heartbreak, mass murder, and pain that accompanies those three things, I'd rather be reading a book of someone ELSE living the life, yeah?
Get the good without the bad.
That to say, if you're wanting to write in this modern-sci-fi-adventure-romance genre, you'll want to keep away from dull moments, too much exposition, and too much description. Keep the action flowing. :)
2.) Ummm...lemme see...how do I say this...exactly? Er...lemme think...uhhhhhhhh...
...
*FOOOUUUR!!!* *GAAAAAALE!!!* *PEEETAAAAAAHH!!!*
*everyone glares at person who yelled 'Peeta'*
...something like that.
Suzanne Collins and Veronica Roth both have the capabilities to make their significant others really, really, really...significant. I honestly can't really comment on my opinion, since most of the time when I'm reading a book where a character's personality/body description is flaunted, I'm reading as a student, picking up sentence structure and words so I can do the same thing with my characters...
Mhm, yeah.
Geeky me.
I STILL HAVE A SOCIAL LIFE, OKAY? x)
But I can comment on a writing tip, which would be this:
Remember as you write your modern-sci-fi-adventure-romance book that you'll want your significant other to be as alive as possible. Make him or her a real gentleman/gentlewoman with real weaknesses and real strengths and real social embarrassments, not someone who is seriously overpowered and sexy and...has a tendency to kiss when hot and...sweaty. (Catch the rhyme? =^.^=)
3.) Finally and most importantly, books like these give the reader a physical push.
Come on.
Admit it.
Most of us are jaded teens, spending way too much time staring our faces pale in front of a computer screen. Our lives are too busy and ultimately too boring to learn martial arts, how to shoot a gun, or snare wildlife with tree saplings. The work is simply too hard, too sweaty, and doesn't have dramatic film music playing in the background.
Also - Daniel Boone died decades ago.
And it doesn't come in an epic montage.
And dangit, it costs money.
So instead, we'll pick up books where SPOILER'S ALERT a girl nearly gets thrown over a chasm to her death, a girl faces Mario fireballs in real life, a girl has to watch her friend get beat up by her enemy without intervention, a girl sings a younger girl to death, a girl climbs a ferris wheel in a game of paintball, and both girls are harassed sexually just to give the notion that they're attractive. END SPOILER'S ALERT
Again, the good without the bad.
However, a well-done modern-sci-fi-adventure-romance book WILL give a slight physical push to the reader. The reader WILL find the drive to get up and do some of the awesome things named above.
Or why else do you think archery spiked after the Hunger Games came out?
On the other hand, be careful not to overdo it. Some people, who have experience with said incidents, will consider your book dark and violent. SPOILER'S ALERT For example, in Divergent, there's a fight between two girls, and one girl is basically beat up until she's sobbing and bloody. END SPOILER'S ALERT That struck an ugly chord in me since I've seen stuff like that happen. It might be exciting for someone else to read, but for me, I'm skimming pages, clenching my jaw and hoping the fight will be over.
Everything is different in life.
And that's why if you write a well-done book where life is sugar-coated and exciting with hot guys and lots of fire and tattoos and drinking and roofs, there will be a lot of attraction. You're basically selling a cooler life to the reader.
Agree? Disagree? The comments box is below. :)
Write on!
Clove
8.10.2013
No one but a die-hard author...
In my opinion, you can make characters two ways:
1.) By pulling them out of thin air in your head
2.) By basing them off of real life people
Because I'm not really good with the alchemy stuff...er...I mean, since I, uh, have a philosopher's stone from my boyfriend and don't...need...basic alchemy...yeah...I practically ALWAYS do my characters by the second method.
This generally includes me...
a. seriously pondering who I could pick
b. choosing a person, then maybe realizing said person just isn't quite it after the copious amounts of time I spend
c. stalking said person, like stalking down to their true hair color, eye color, facial formation, gait, slang, voice, and hobbies, then
d. morphing said person into my character so that it's juuust right.
True, while no one but a die-hard author would go through this, no one but a die-hard author will achieve the perfection of realistic, well-thought characters.
For a little while, I was uncertain if I should spend so much time on my characters, but Ms. Ellen Potter put it straight to me in one of her emails. "You have to stalk them. Like legit stalk them. Spend time in their shadows, notice who they hang out with, where they go, how they reacts to certain situations."
If you take method two, don't ever freak out about how much time you're spending on a certain character. I'm 67 pages into my newest story (which I'm thinking about calling The Final Triumvirate or The something Triumvirate), and I'm still working on my characters, fine tuning them, drawing pictures of them, and finding actors who resemble them.
But...yeah...I'm starting to get this...uh...feeling...that I should just hurry up and choose someone for Jaug and Hyn (both males). In the past twenty-four hours, I've had four people come up to me and ask, "Why do you have a picture of ___?" with ____ being a real life person that they know. x) Love the psychotic life of an author.
Write on!
Clove
P.S. Yeah, yeah, I know you all are DYING to figure out who I'm casting, aren't you? I'll give you this, since these two are set in stone:
Millis is casted off of Cesc Fabregas, a Spanish soccer/football player for FC Barcelona and the Spanish national team.
Of course, there is that slight problem that Cesc is about eight years older than Millis, but I think it still works, don't you? =^.^=
Then Pleibea is casted off of Johanna Braddy, who *scream gasp* played Princess Yue in Avatar: The Last Airbender.
Puh-lease.
I personally know Johanna better as Jenny Matrix, the kick-butt varsity captain from Video Game High School. She does a little more of this type of stuff, both in VGHS and in my story:
But still can be friendly, social, and...human.
Like em? Don't? Got better suggestions? Comment box's below! :)
1.) By pulling them out of thin air in your head
2.) By basing them off of real life people
Because I'm not really good with the alchemy stuff...er...I mean, since I, uh, have a philosopher's stone from my boyfriend and don't...need...basic alchemy...yeah...I practically ALWAYS do my characters by the second method.
This generally includes me...
a. seriously pondering who I could pick
b. choosing a person, then maybe realizing said person just isn't quite it after the copious amounts of time I spend
c. stalking said person, like stalking down to their true hair color, eye color, facial formation, gait, slang, voice, and hobbies, then
d. morphing said person into my character so that it's juuust right.
True, while no one but a die-hard author would go through this, no one but a die-hard author will achieve the perfection of realistic, well-thought characters.
For a little while, I was uncertain if I should spend so much time on my characters, but Ms. Ellen Potter put it straight to me in one of her emails. "You have to stalk them. Like legit stalk them. Spend time in their shadows, notice who they hang out with, where they go, how they reacts to certain situations."
If you take method two, don't ever freak out about how much time you're spending on a certain character. I'm 67 pages into my newest story (which I'm thinking about calling The Final Triumvirate or The something Triumvirate), and I'm still working on my characters, fine tuning them, drawing pictures of them, and finding actors who resemble them.
But...yeah...I'm starting to get this...uh...feeling...that I should just hurry up and choose someone for Jaug and Hyn (both males). In the past twenty-four hours, I've had four people come up to me and ask, "Why do you have a picture of ___?" with ____ being a real life person that they know. x) Love the psychotic life of an author.
Write on!
Clove
P.S. Yeah, yeah, I know you all are DYING to figure out who I'm casting, aren't you? I'll give you this, since these two are set in stone:
Millis is casted off of Cesc Fabregas, a Spanish soccer/football player for FC Barcelona and the Spanish national team.
Then Pleibea is casted off of Johanna Braddy, who *scream gasp* played Princess Yue in Avatar: The Last Airbender.
Puh-lease.
I personally know Johanna better as Jenny Matrix, the kick-butt varsity captain from Video Game High School. She does a little more of this type of stuff, both in VGHS and in my story:
Like em? Don't? Got better suggestions? Comment box's below! :)
8.06.2013
Writing, writing, writing, then--
BAM!
It hits you in the face like a Homeric simile.
Writer's block.
I'm currently working on three projects, and that's the three projects aside from the countless daily memoirs, speeches, blogs, journal entries, and description paragraphs that I do for fun. Last week, I was doing pretty well; I ironed out about 20 pages in a week, which isn't that bad at all.
Then today...
I sat down in front of the computer, pulled up all three of my projects, and stared at them...and stared...and stared...
And lost the stare-eye contest.
Ladies and gentlemen, I hit the dreaded, terrifying, paralyzing writer's block.
Which brought about a good question: how do you get out of writer's block?
1.) Ask yourself what your main characters want next. What drives a story is your main character's desire. (The Hunger Games is a good example; Katniss wants to survive with her family and friends. That is the thing that drives the story.)
Most of the time, when I hit writer's block, I have simply lost my character's passion, and when I've found it again, I'm back on track.
2.) If you found your character's heart-desire and are still stuck, then envision the next scene in your head like a mental movie. Let your mind do all the work and just sit back and watch on the big screen of your mind while listening to some Henry-Gregson Williams soundtrack.
Don't even think about writing anything at this point. No matter how clever the dialogue, how well you can see your character's faces, or how clearly you've obtained the mood, let the scene play itself out in you head until you have a good page or two to write.
3.) If you did 1 and 2 and are still stuck, chances are your brain is tired.
Go on a walk.
And don't think about anything. Eh-nee-theeng, got it? Just walk for five to ten minutes outside. I've done this at noon in summer in Georgia and in rain during winter. (Both times I took an umbrella.) If you're thinking of nothing, chances are you won't be thinking of how uncomfortable it is. Chances are your brain is subconsciously working on a break-through; it just needs a little more time before the big success.
(On the other hand, if you're a nature-person like me, the feeling of sun rays beating down on your sweaty back and the feeling of cold rain pattering on your face are two exhilarating things. Great for the inspiration to get out of writer's block.)
4.) If those don't work, put your work aside (as in, don't even open the document) and forget about it. Don't stress, don't think about it, don't stare at it in desperation.
Like I said, your brain is subconsciously drilling away at a handful of diamonds; let it do its thing in peace.
That being said, I need to take my advice and get back to my own writing...
Write on!
Clove
P.S. I guess I just haven't watched enough action movies because I'm stuck on suggestion 2, trying to envision a fight scene...
Literally, y'all, I'm five or less pages from being down with one of my projects, and I got writer's block NOW? Hehehe, wish me luck. o.o x)
It hits you in the face like a Homeric simile.
Writer's block.
I'm currently working on three projects, and that's the three projects aside from the countless daily memoirs, speeches, blogs, journal entries, and description paragraphs that I do for fun. Last week, I was doing pretty well; I ironed out about 20 pages in a week, which isn't that bad at all.
Then today...
I sat down in front of the computer, pulled up all three of my projects, and stared at them...and stared...and stared...
And lost the stare-eye contest.
Ladies and gentlemen, I hit the dreaded, terrifying, paralyzing writer's block.
Which brought about a good question: how do you get out of writer's block?
1.) Ask yourself what your main characters want next. What drives a story is your main character's desire. (The Hunger Games is a good example; Katniss wants to survive with her family and friends. That is the thing that drives the story.)
Most of the time, when I hit writer's block, I have simply lost my character's passion, and when I've found it again, I'm back on track.
2.) If you found your character's heart-desire and are still stuck, then envision the next scene in your head like a mental movie. Let your mind do all the work and just sit back and watch on the big screen of your mind while listening to some Henry-Gregson Williams soundtrack.
Don't even think about writing anything at this point. No matter how clever the dialogue, how well you can see your character's faces, or how clearly you've obtained the mood, let the scene play itself out in you head until you have a good page or two to write.
3.) If you did 1 and 2 and are still stuck, chances are your brain is tired.
Go on a walk.
And don't think about anything. Eh-nee-theeng, got it? Just walk for five to ten minutes outside. I've done this at noon in summer in Georgia and in rain during winter. (Both times I took an umbrella.) If you're thinking of nothing, chances are you won't be thinking of how uncomfortable it is. Chances are your brain is subconsciously working on a break-through; it just needs a little more time before the big success.
(On the other hand, if you're a nature-person like me, the feeling of sun rays beating down on your sweaty back and the feeling of cold rain pattering on your face are two exhilarating things. Great for the inspiration to get out of writer's block.)
4.) If those don't work, put your work aside (as in, don't even open the document) and forget about it. Don't stress, don't think about it, don't stare at it in desperation.
Like I said, your brain is subconsciously drilling away at a handful of diamonds; let it do its thing in peace.
That being said, I need to take my advice and get back to my own writing...
Write on!
Clove
P.S. I guess I just haven't watched enough action movies because I'm stuck on suggestion 2, trying to envision a fight scene...
Literally, y'all, I'm five or less pages from being down with one of my projects, and I got writer's block NOW? Hehehe, wish me luck. o.o x)
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