And more forgiving of my non-committal nature.
Oh, there'll be writing posts, don't worry. But, there will also be art, baking, fashion and rants on general social issues when I'm feeling saucy.
You'll find it all at The Brightest of Wallflowers. (also the name of the Screen play I'll write for Script Frenzy in April)
Friday, January 1, 2010
Tuesday, October 6, 2009
Bigger than myself...
I'm a huge dreamer. HUGE. I can't help but take anything I do and try to turn it into some sort of world-wide phenomenon. Maybe I'm a glory hog, maybe I'm some sort of megalomaniac, but I hope I'm just a mover and a shaker.
My son did NaNoWriMo last year with us via the Young Writers Program, and his teacher thought it was pretty cool. So, I talked to her today and she said she'd like it f I came and tried to recruit some more writers for this November!
I am SO excited! I've ordered the free Classroom noveling kit from YWP (the afore-mentioned Young Writers Program), and I am going to try an hold a writing night for every week in November, plus a finisher party at the end.
This could get so huge!! What if I put it in the paper? What if I got 20 kids to do it! What If I got 20 adults to also do it!!! What if it became an every-month writing club where adults and kids interact and inspire and get words down?
Feel free to watch me and my crazed ideas, as I try to make them happen.
This on top of the art class I'm taking, the possible band I might start singing back-up for, Preschool co-op, my enormous amount of required goofing-off, and, oh, yeah...parenting.
My son did NaNoWriMo last year with us via the Young Writers Program, and his teacher thought it was pretty cool. So, I talked to her today and she said she'd like it f I came and tried to recruit some more writers for this November!
I am SO excited! I've ordered the free Classroom noveling kit from YWP (the afore-mentioned Young Writers Program), and I am going to try an hold a writing night for every week in November, plus a finisher party at the end.
This could get so huge!! What if I put it in the paper? What if I got 20 kids to do it! What If I got 20 adults to also do it!!! What if it became an every-month writing club where adults and kids interact and inspire and get words down?
Feel free to watch me and my crazed ideas, as I try to make them happen.
This on top of the art class I'm taking, the possible band I might start singing back-up for, Preschool co-op, my enormous amount of required goofing-off, and, oh, yeah...parenting.
NaNoWriMo rumblings....
It's co-ming!!! Only weeks until the crazy rush of pouring out thousands of words on a daily basis. Will this be the year I do 100,000?
A better question is- what will I write about. Matt, my husband and fellow NaNo-fiend, believes I should start November 1st without a single idea.
That would be awesome....if I were a good writer.
I'm not yet. I don't write because I enjoy the sound of my writers "voice"- in fact, I feel I can barely craft a paragraph worthy of readership. I write because I have characters in my brain.
Like I've said before- I have about 3 or 4 stories I've carried through my life in one version or the other. Like the piece I blogged about a couple posts ago- the fantasy that started as a girl-hood daydream, then moved into Star Trek fan-fiction, then transitioned into what it is today.
As I get older, add more life experience and knowledge the stories already implanted in my head grow and get more complex. But I can't seem to come up with any new angles, any totally original plot lines.
This is why I will not try to write something entirely new. It sounds fun- and I will try sometime. But right now- it feels like I have a brain tumor that blocks any creativity that could realize a new story. Even the fantasy is back burner-ed because (takes deep breath and shrugs) Blood Freckles is not finished.
And I can't get over it. Every time I try to let my mind weave ideas, they come back to the same people, the same scenes, the same places. I have to "kill" this story. Not back-burner it. Not forget it.
I must finish it and write it for real. I'm sure I'll never be 100% happy with it, but I'd be content with 80% happy and 100% finished, as opposed to the 30% happy and 80% finished it is now. I will never be able to move on if I don't.
Everyone close to me is probably SO tired of this story. Of the characters, of the issues I have with the story. But, I HAVE to do this. I must finish it. Next month.
A better question is- what will I write about. Matt, my husband and fellow NaNo-fiend, believes I should start November 1st without a single idea.
That would be awesome....if I were a good writer.
I'm not yet. I don't write because I enjoy the sound of my writers "voice"- in fact, I feel I can barely craft a paragraph worthy of readership. I write because I have characters in my brain.
Like I've said before- I have about 3 or 4 stories I've carried through my life in one version or the other. Like the piece I blogged about a couple posts ago- the fantasy that started as a girl-hood daydream, then moved into Star Trek fan-fiction, then transitioned into what it is today.
As I get older, add more life experience and knowledge the stories already implanted in my head grow and get more complex. But I can't seem to come up with any new angles, any totally original plot lines.
This is why I will not try to write something entirely new. It sounds fun- and I will try sometime. But right now- it feels like I have a brain tumor that blocks any creativity that could realize a new story. Even the fantasy is back burner-ed because (takes deep breath and shrugs) Blood Freckles is not finished.
And I can't get over it. Every time I try to let my mind weave ideas, they come back to the same people, the same scenes, the same places. I have to "kill" this story. Not back-burner it. Not forget it.
I must finish it and write it for real. I'm sure I'll never be 100% happy with it, but I'd be content with 80% happy and 100% finished, as opposed to the 30% happy and 80% finished it is now. I will never be able to move on if I don't.
Everyone close to me is probably SO tired of this story. Of the characters, of the issues I have with the story. But, I HAVE to do this. I must finish it. Next month.
Wednesday, September 16, 2009
Linking the two worlds of my two blogs?
Eh...sort of. I guess. My outfit today on my Fashion blog features my NaNo shirt from 2007. Mostly because I've got a cold and didn't feel like wearing anything fussy! Maybe I drag over some writing-inspired reader over here. Or drag some writers over into the fashion-blogging world?
I can't imagine these two things mix well.
Check out my post on Backwoods Fashionista.
I can't imagine these two things mix well.
Check out my post on Backwoods Fashionista.
Monday, September 7, 2009
Getting ready for November!
Wow, I have neglected this blog as badly as I neglect my laundry!My apologies for those who may actually be checking on me.
I've been in a writing slump- feeling out of ideas and a little tired of my story. But, NaNoWriMo os coming, so I need to get thinking!
I'm trying to get inspiration going for my fantasy story- another re-hash of an older story I'd written before and never got right.
I wrote a bit this morning- just trying to get my mojo again. I will be more distracted this time, though as I'm taking an art class, and I started a blog about fashion, which keeps me sort of busy.
Here's what I wrote this morning:
In the cool morning, Ghere awoke to a whooshing sound that he assumed was a dream. He lifted his head from the pillow, and pulled his blanket around him to shield himself from the cold. He tiptoed through the hall to the opening where he could view the great up sloping of the mountains. His eyes, still unfocused from heavy sleep couldn’t focus on the dark form as it swooped between the early light of the sky to the unlit granite expanse that stretched behind the castle. But it was there, as sure as his heart was beating- and it was no hawk. It was as big as any horse, as any house, he thought. He’d seen it before, but wrote it off as dreaming. He ran to an outcropping of rocks that rose above the castle walls, trying to see the bird more closely. It’d gone above the edge of the valley, high above the cliff into the high country he was forbidden to go to. He slumped a bit as his eyes searched the skies.
He could smell the smoke of morning fires and smell food beginning to cook. His own stomach growled as he stood frozen on the black and white speckled granite, waiting for one more glimpse of it.
Like most things in life, it didn’t appear until he’d nearly given up. He started to make his way down the rocks, his feet landing in places they knew from years of scrambling over this very place, when from behind him, a wind arose and made him duck down to protect himself. He looked up fast, though, and was rewarded with the closet look he’d ever gotten of it.
Feathers like gold, and wingspan as wide as the great court, and talons black like fine leather. On his back, he noticed something else- a girl. Her hands wound into the golden feathers like reigns, mahogany hair like a pennant in the wind behind her, clothed in soft colors that flowed in the wind as she swept up into the air in front of Ghere.
He watched it disappear over the great forest.
I've been in a writing slump- feeling out of ideas and a little tired of my story. But, NaNoWriMo os coming, so I need to get thinking!
I'm trying to get inspiration going for my fantasy story- another re-hash of an older story I'd written before and never got right.
I wrote a bit this morning- just trying to get my mojo again. I will be more distracted this time, though as I'm taking an art class, and I started a blog about fashion, which keeps me sort of busy.
Here's what I wrote this morning:
In the cool morning, Ghere awoke to a whooshing sound that he assumed was a dream. He lifted his head from the pillow, and pulled his blanket around him to shield himself from the cold. He tiptoed through the hall to the opening where he could view the great up sloping of the mountains. His eyes, still unfocused from heavy sleep couldn’t focus on the dark form as it swooped between the early light of the sky to the unlit granite expanse that stretched behind the castle. But it was there, as sure as his heart was beating- and it was no hawk. It was as big as any horse, as any house, he thought. He’d seen it before, but wrote it off as dreaming. He ran to an outcropping of rocks that rose above the castle walls, trying to see the bird more closely. It’d gone above the edge of the valley, high above the cliff into the high country he was forbidden to go to. He slumped a bit as his eyes searched the skies.
He could smell the smoke of morning fires and smell food beginning to cook. His own stomach growled as he stood frozen on the black and white speckled granite, waiting for one more glimpse of it.
Like most things in life, it didn’t appear until he’d nearly given up. He started to make his way down the rocks, his feet landing in places they knew from years of scrambling over this very place, when from behind him, a wind arose and made him duck down to protect himself. He looked up fast, though, and was rewarded with the closet look he’d ever gotten of it.
Feathers like gold, and wingspan as wide as the great court, and talons black like fine leather. On his back, he noticed something else- a girl. Her hands wound into the golden feathers like reigns, mahogany hair like a pennant in the wind behind her, clothed in soft colors that flowed in the wind as she swept up into the air in front of Ghere.
He watched it disappear over the great forest.
Sunday, June 14, 2009
Writing real people.
This is a weird thing for me. This is not non-fiction, but it's inspired heavily by experiences in my own life. Most of the characters have a real-life equivalent.
It feels wrong in some ways, though- I think there are people who will fee hurt by the portrayal, but I have to let that go. It's not real, after all, the actual people have been dramatized to push along the plot.
The person that the love interest is based on barely resembles my character. I merely took a situation that happened with that person, and then cut him out and inserted Nathan, my love interest in the story. Nathan is different than..ahem...this other person in many ways. It's funny because I sort of made him more like the man I actually married, (Matt) since I cannot imagine a better man than him. Also, the main character, Dawn, who's loosely based on me is much, much riskier than I am, and more secure in some ways. And less conservative.
The other characters are going to be close to real life. Which is why I may never ever show this to anyone, lest somebody get pissed off!! (no, I can't do that, can I?)
The real life events are only the jumping off point for bigger scenes in the story. One example was a trip down to southern california with our school choir. It wasn't that big of a deal, but in my story, it is.
I love writing, because you can play with all the "what if's" in life. My reality is so blessed, I feel the freedom to do this.
It feels wrong in some ways, though- I think there are people who will fee hurt by the portrayal, but I have to let that go. It's not real, after all, the actual people have been dramatized to push along the plot.
The person that the love interest is based on barely resembles my character. I merely took a situation that happened with that person, and then cut him out and inserted Nathan, my love interest in the story. Nathan is different than..ahem...this other person in many ways. It's funny because I sort of made him more like the man I actually married, (Matt) since I cannot imagine a better man than him. Also, the main character, Dawn, who's loosely based on me is much, much riskier than I am, and more secure in some ways. And less conservative.
The other characters are going to be close to real life. Which is why I may never ever show this to anyone, lest somebody get pissed off!! (no, I can't do that, can I?)
The real life events are only the jumping off point for bigger scenes in the story. One example was a trip down to southern california with our school choir. It wasn't that big of a deal, but in my story, it is.
I love writing, because you can play with all the "what if's" in life. My reality is so blessed, I feel the freedom to do this.
Wednesday, June 10, 2009
Sick of my own voice.
How does one prevent this? I struggle sentence to sentence to try to not sound so stupid.
I feel like it's all a bunch of "she made a pot of coffee. She turned on the radio. She felt sad."
I'm doing textbook WRONG things consistently. Telling not showing. No description. Characters lacking their own voices.
I need practice. Ok, off to crank out some more crap. :)
I feel like it's all a bunch of "she made a pot of coffee. She turned on the radio. She felt sad."
I'm doing textbook WRONG things consistently. Telling not showing. No description. Characters lacking their own voices.
I need practice. Ok, off to crank out some more crap. :)
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