Finding inspiration

Last weekend, I was gifted the most amazing, thoughtful and tear-jerking gift I had ever been given in my brief two decades of life. That may not seem like much, but the note that came with it may help to illustrate just how much it meant to me. The note said:

“Every craftsman has his tools. And this is the tool of a writer. Now please- take this tool and use it for your craft. I truly hope that you find the artistic inspiration by using this tool.”

I couldn’t have said it better myself. [Some quick backstory] When I was a kid, I had to sneak chunks of lined paper from my mother’s stash to write all of my stories on. Naturally, with editing and lots of rethinking along the way, they got pretty messy. Especially since I was never one to write in pencil. The problem was, when it came time to type out my stories, I had to ask for permission to use the computer (can any of us even remember a time when we needed permission?!), and even when I could, I had to share with my brothers and got booted off sooner or later. So, every weekend when we were at my grandmother’s house, I ogled the unattainable box of my mother’s old electronic type writer. I dreamed of owning that thing, and never needing to ask permission or even bother printing out my digital stories.Long story short, I never did get my hands on that thing.

So I cried when I opened the suitcase-esque box containing my gift and I saw this.*
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Maybe it’s a little bit impractical. My mother’s initial reaction was, “You’re actually gonna type on that thing?” Maybe my next best-selling (as if there was a first?) story won’t be typed on it…
but it might be created on it.

This gift not only echoed inside of me, and reminded me of that box beneath a bunch of other boxes that I could never reach as a child, but it did what the gifter meant it to do. It inspired me. Maybe it was a placebo effect from the note, but since I’ve had this thing, I may have only used it once or twice,but I’ve written so much more than I have over the past few months in these mere two weeks.

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And all over again, I’m beginning to find the words.

BONUS GIF: Just cos this post was particularly gif-less and it’s giving me anxiety.
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Haaaaa. Much better.

* along with a book, a collection of poems by Tyler Knott Gregson called Chasers of the Light. 10/10, would recommend over and over again. I’m in love with it!

Father, I have sinned. It has been 6 months since my last post…

Honestly, I thought it had been longer. But I guess since my posts became more and more spastic as time went on, it feels like I’ve been absent much longer than I have. But yes, I forgot about my blog.
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I mean, first of all I became busier than I expected to be. I started this originally (see Post Numero Uno…actually I think that’s I called it, too! I’m so predictable…) because I had TOO MUCH free time that I spent sitting on my back side being less than productive and having all of my energy sucked out of me. Be careful what you wish for,I guess, cos it changed very much very quickly.
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I also was having trouble being inspired to write. A blog is something that doesn’t require one topic to base your writing on, in fact it can change topics day to day. And that became a problemo. Unless I was absolutely struck by something, I had nothing in particular to write about. Although, truth be told, I stopped blogging around the same time that I found something else to write…fanfiction.
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I KNOW, I KNOW. 85% of the time I can’t stand reading that trash either. The grammar sincerely makes me want to go out and snap necks. But if there are any sociopaths here who may be interested:
http://www.piratestripes.net/tmnt/viewstory.php?sid=510
Here’s a hint as to what it may or may not be about…it has a rating of 5/5 shells.
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Now this is getting a little long, so I’ll try and be quick about things. In terms of my baby, my love that I birthed all those years ago who is in dire need of editing, it’s been a struggle. I started rewriting it for the THIRD time, but it just doesn’t feel the same. And I worry that it WON’T ever feel like the same book I wrote in the first place. If the remake isn’t as dear to my heart as the original, I can’t proudly produce it in favour of the other one, as desperate in condition as it may be.

Lately, I started forcing myself to write often. I used to scribble down ideas I got on the subway or just throughout the day in a note on my phone but I realized that I won’t get anywhere if I keep setting my ideas aide and letting them sit there, maybe for another five years. That’s not how dreams come true. Cinderella got up and got her own darn ass to the ball, and that’s very much what I’ve decided needs to be done.

So this time, I’m not doing this because I have nothing else to do and need a hobby. I’m not even doing it to fulfill a need to write. I’m doing this to teach myself dedication, perseverance, and get off my lazy behind and take myself to the ball.
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NOTHING TO WRITE ABOUT! Exert the Second

So the unthinkable has happened….

within two weeks of having a blog, I have rendered myself speechless. That is to say- I HAVE NOTHING TO SAY!

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Apart from my “I want more” (which has literally been me this week) I’ve just had nothing to write about. Which sucks because I have thoroughly enjoyed blogging from Day 1. SO now what…..

I’ve literally been grasping at straws this whole week, “What to do, WHAT TO DO???”Image

That’s my visual representation of “grasping at straws”. Work with me, people. SO CLOSE YET SO FAR, BABY TARZAN.

Now, I didn’t want to do “BAM BAM BAM, just a bunch of novel-y stuff, starving artist-type posts” just for the sake of keeping this true to myself and not a desperate cry for attention, and oh, how those borders blur… HOWEVER I’ve decided to borrow from my past self….I present today an exert from my original story, my baby that I wrote 5 years ago ( and holy FRACK, now that I actually had to sit and count how many years its been since I was 14, do I feel old).

This is one of my favourite scenes from the whole novel, and I had more fun than you can imagine writing this.Image

*scribble scribble scribble scribble scribble word vomit hand cramp scribble*

And I know, for those of you lovely people actually following me (and you make my day every day that you do), specifically the writers, you know this feeling, which personally, I think Tarzan accurately depicts, minus the gorilla.

 

 

TBN (To Be Noted- I couldn’t remember if this was a real abbreviation or not so there you go, just in case): This is a bit of a spoiler in terms of what my novel is about, the key element of it at least, and I understand its lacking the original explanation and details leading up to it but hopefully y’all can bear with me, and its also a tad self explanatory.

NOW, HERE IT IS, WITHOUT FURTHER ADO, UNEDITED AND UNCHANGED. Drum roll, please

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My vision blurred on the edges as everything sort of zoomed out into flashes of light. It looked like something out of a science fiction  movie. I didn’t physically feel like I was moving- if I closed my eyes, it still felt like I was merely standing in the middle of my bedroom. But what I saw made it seem like I was being sucked backwards. Soon my room was a small image in he centre of stretching forms and lights in my vision.

Then I felt a slight lurching tug around my waist, pulling me forward from behind. I blinked, stumbling, as I stepped…

In the library.

I looked around. This was definitely the library. But how did I get here?

Umf! I didn’t have much time to ponder that question. A heavy something knocked into my side wrapping me in its big arms. We flew sideways, hitting the floor with a hard thud that couldn’t have been good for my hip.

My heart literally skipped a beat as, right where I was standing six seconds ago, a cloud of dust and debris erupted with a bang that made the floor and bookshelves shake uneasily.

My heart skipped a second time as I noticed something I couldn’t believe I hadn’t seen.

A huge, black, beast-like form emerged from the wreckage. It reached almost halfway up to the ceiling, its head just passing the third floor balcony. It was a distinct form, but seemed to be endlessly black, with no evidence, other than its outline, of fur or other features. All that was visible were its two red eyes, and sharp white fangs when it roared.

The figure beside me stood and reached a hand out to me. My heart jumped again as I saw Taylor, slightly covered in dust and looking extremely serious.

He didn’t wait for me to grab his hand, but went straight for my arm, pulling me up so fast it made me dizzy.

“Emma!” * I looked up and finally noticed Rodger on the fourth floor, leaning over the banister- his wheelchair was about eight meters away from him on its side. His eyes shone crimson, and he looked distressed. “Find Aaron!”

Another explosion erupted to the left, a little way away. I saw Alex in front of the rubble, her eyes shining fiercely, making tables like the ones that lay scattered and cracked in two all over the library appear and fall onto a second black monster. It was almost as large as the other one.

I was trying to move away from the fighting, slowly backing behind  a bookcase. I wasn’t being a coward or anything, its just that I didn’t have a jewel- and due to that, frankly, I didn’t have a chance.

I saw Katie on the fourth floor opposite Rodger, actually seeming like she cared, helping out here and there. With a flash from her eyes, a peridot coloured forcefield appeared in front of a third, smaller monster that had been advancing on a fallen Calvin. He seized the opportunity, leaped up almost acrobatically and, with a flame of topaz, turned into a large tiger, and pounced with a roar.

Then I heard the clank of wood on wood, so loud I jumped. My head snapped in the direction the sound came from and was only just able to get out of the way.

Something was knocking into the bookcases in the row I was standing in. I jumped out of the aisle just before a bookcase crashed into the one next to me. It was another black monster that had been hit so hard, it flew backwards into six, no seven, bookcases.

I followed the row of demolished wood and books and saw Michael- little, adorable Michael- the cause of all that destruction. Like Rodger, his eyes were also glowing vivid deep crimson, only with a lighter tone. But his shoulders and upper arms had red, translucent, sort of liquid worm-like arms moving around them. They moulded into wings before my very eyes and Michael soared over to where I was standing, facing the black monster. I looked up at him, still unable to pick myself up off the floor, and noticed two wires going from his pants pocket, to his ears.

His face looked filled with rage and I knew that this was a side of Michael ten times stronger than the previous “angry” Michael I’ve experienced.

The two wings morphed fluidly into two large maces at the end of his balled fists, and he struck the beast around the shin and heels. It fell forwards, limping on one foot with a shriek. In anger it reached for a large boulder of debris that looked like a piece of the wall, and launched it at Michael and I.

I braced myself for impact, cursing the fact that I hadn’t been able to stand up. I caught a glance of Rodger, and with a simple movement of his hand, the piece of wall disintegrated into bubbles.

“Emma! Find Aaron!” he yelled. “Hurry!” I jumped up with a quick nod, and glanced around the library. Find Aaron, find Aaron… how on earth was I supposed to do that in the middle of this chaos? Everyone was either in the middle of their own fight or helping someone with theirs; there were tables all over the place every which way; there were feet sticking out from behind one of the over-turned armchairs; chunks of wall were flying all over- wait a minute, feet?

I did a double-take, my eyes focused on the area under the second floor balcony. Half the fireplace mantel was broken off in pieces on the floor, and every one of the four armchairs were disturbed. Behind one of the chairs that was turned on its side, I recognized the bottom of his bottle green jeans and black running shoes.

Without thinking, I tore across the library. I barely dodged a soaring table and had to duck under Calvin, now a giant phoenix with a small bookcase clutched in his claws which he dropped from above onto two monsters, before diving behind the sideways coffee table and army crawling over to Aaron.

He was sleeping. I couldn’t say how I knew that. His whole body was rigid and twitching- hos hands were clenched into tight fists, his knuckles white, his face pained and covered in sweat. Then I saw his bracelet- the one that matched Alex’s with his jewel on it, and I knew why I had to find Aaron.

I knelt down beside him. I froze, my hands hovering over him. Should I shake him? Talk to him? How do you wake someone like this up?

“Aaron,” my voice shook with the rest of my body. “Aaron, wake up, come on, please Aaron,” he was twitching less, but his eyebrows pulled together and his teeth clenched almost as tight as his fists. I shook him, “Aaron, wake up, please!” I gasped and my heart almost stopped for the fifth time that day.

On the other side of Aaron, a form was shaping, billowing up in smoke black as if night itself were creeping up. I stood frozen.

The blackness resembled a person now, and I could almost recognize them. “Aaron,” I croaked desperately, not taking my eyes off the figure, “Aaron, wake up!” I shook him harder. The figure was reaching a cloudy hand toward me. “Aaron!”

Fingers wrapped around my neck.

“Aaron…”

I was being lifted off the ground.

“…A…aron….”

The hand tightened. I looked into the figure’s cold, onyx eyes.

AARON!”

* originally the main character’s name was Emma, which I have changed to Aarya. Emma was just too immature and underdeveloped as a character, so I felt I had to change her name (and a lot of her appearance as well) to break from that.

It was hard writing it exactly as is, without any editing. Well, I might’ve changed a word or a comma here and there, but CAN YOU BLAME ME??? Anyways, I ask you to forgive any less-than-forgiving sentence structures or prose, por favor.

WELL, if you’ve bared with me long enough to get to this point, CONGRATULATIONSImage

…and also a very dear THANK YOU.

 

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As always, your comments or critiques are much appreciated and very welcome.

BONUS GIF: Who doesn’t love Jimmy Fallon and Elmo?

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