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TESTING

Part 1: Drifting

Warning: Mild, everyday profanity. No more than your usual movie-quantity profanities, but if you have delicate sensibilities, then I have done right by you with this warning. Right?

Based on this writing prompt from writeworld. If you’re interested enough, feel free to click ‘read more’ after the cut. :) Feedbacks (good, bad, “here are some improvements”, “stop writing!”) are always welcomed.

 

A floating house, well, I’ll be. Fucking salvation, that’s what it was.

We have been drifting in the tiny dighy for nearly a week now since the tsunami. The dinghy was a lifesaver, but now, stress and cramped spaces are starting to take its toll on the five of us. Damo and Baz already fought twice within this hour, over some long-forgotten and trivial misunderstandings, now suddenly remembered because there is not much entertainment to be had in a tiny dinghy, and old memories have a habit of coming back to you in times of quiet.  Their tussles violently rocking the dinghy, threatening to throw all of us overboard, so we had to pry them apart.

Damo was snotting blood—broken nose, probably—my doing, from my effort in kicking them apart. He was shocked at first, at the realization that I, his best mate since practically birth, had assaulted him. And then rage swept his face. I’m sure he was about to lunge at me when Maria yelled, “House, ahoy!”

She has a strange sense of humour, this quiet girl. Sometimes I wonder if it came from the fact that English is her second language, after Filipino. Don’t get me wrong, her English is perfect. Slightly accented, perhaps, but perfect. Regardless, she sometimes can get English expressions wrong.

But no matter, she was right. It was a house, and it was within sight.

Lynn, my sometimes-most-times girlfriend, took a break from her constant sobbing and looked shock instead. It was not the best of expression, but it was a big improvement from her morose expression. Barely a week into our dilemma and already I forgot how I ever found this girl attractive. Right now, her depression and defeatist attitude is so cloying.

“That’s…that’s old Miguel’s house,” she whispered. “Oh, I hope he is not…”, then she broke down again. Fuck me, this girl stores gallons of tears or what? Could have used all that tear water for drinking water.

“Crazy old man Miguel?” Barry said. “How d’you know this his house? Plenty of houses look like this.”

“He is NOT a crazy old man!” Lynn shrieked. “He is a nice old guy, he was just lonely, that’s all! Everyone is crazy to you, because YOU ARE THE FUCKING SANEST PERSON, AREN’T YOU, you fuck of a pri…” She was shrieking and sobbing alternately, both in irritatingly epic, hysterical proportion that if she doesn’t stop soon, I’m gonna have to chuck her out of this dighy. See how she shrieks and sob when she’s drowning, that’ll teach her.

For fuck sake, I’m going crazy too. Less than two weeks ago, my mind was constantly preoccupied on fucking the fuck out of this goddess. Now, this goddess is becoming an annoying hag. Mum told me once that if ever I am ready to settle down, I must first drive  the girl I’m with to the point of high stress, because “that will show you what kind of a hag she will be ten years into the marriage, after bills, mortgages and three kids. If you can stand that hag she is, marry her. If you find it irritating, annoying, grating, then don’t marry her.”  

Safe to say I ain’t marrying this one, then, Ma.

Fuck, can’t think about me Ma now, or I will be breaking down in tears too.

Focus, grasshopper. Focus.

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  • 8 months ago
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Writing References and Prompts: A List of Important Literary Terms

writersfriend:

A

aesthetics: “Philosophical investigation into the nature of beauty and the perception of beauty, especially in the arts; the theory of art or artistic taste.” (CB)

allegory: “A story or visual image with a second distinct meaning partially hidden behind its literal or visible meaning. In…

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Heartening thought for us struggling writers

rochelledelborrello:

Don’t lose heart all you struggling writers, we are never fully appreciated!!

Read these strange but true publishing facts and keep writing and crafting that best seller, as you never know.


(These facts thanks to auswriters.com)


John Grisham - His first novel, ‘A Time to Kill’, was declined by fifteen publishers and some thirty agents. His novels have more than 60 million copies in print.

William Golding - “Lord of the Flies” 21 publishers rejected this manuscript

Mary Higgins Clark - First Novel was rejected 40 times before selling her first story. One editor wrote: “Your story is light, slight, and trite.” More than 30 million copies of her books are now in print.

Frank Herbert - Dune , after 17-20 rejections, this book became a spectacular success with a popular film version in 1956 

J.K. Rowling - in 1990, JK Rowling had the idea for the first Harry Potter book during a train ride from Manchester to London. Lacking a pen and too shy to borrow one, she is forced to remember the details until the end of the trip. She starts writing the book in her spare time. In 1996 after many rejections, Rowling, who was living on welfare, before she found a publisher for “Harry Potter and the Philosopher’s Stone,” After a number of rejections, Rowling eventually sold Harry Potter and The Philosopher’s Stone for the equivalent of about $4,000 US. The book was published in the UK in 1997 and a year later renamed Harry Potter and the Sorcerer’s Stone and published in the USA.

Norman Mailer’s book The Naked and the Dead was rejected 12 times.

Alex Haley - Before Roots, his stories, received over 200 rejections on his other novels

Richard Bach -‘Jonathon Livingstone Seagull ‘ overnight success, after submitting a short story of 10,000 words to a New York publisher 6 months earlier, rang the bank and asked how much was in his account. A woman’s voice informed him, to his amazement, that the balance in his account was four million, three hundred thousand dollars. He had been completely unaware that his manuscript had become a run- away best-seller.

Pearl S. Buck wrote The Good Earth, which was rejected 14 times, but it went on to win a Pulitzer Prize.

Joseph Heller, The first title of Catch-22 was Catch-18, but Simon and Schuster, changed the title. Why 22? Because Simon and Schuster was the 22nd publisher to read it. Catch-22 has become part of the language and has sold more than 10 million copies.

Robert Persig’s classic, Zen and the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance, sent it to 121 publishing houses before it was accepted.

Jack Canfield and Mark Victor Hansen wrote Chicken Soup for the Soul and 36 publishers rejected it, before it became a huge best-seller

Dr. Seuss’s first book was rejected 24 times before it was accepted for publishing> Sales of his children’s books have soared to 100 million.

Patrick Dennis novel Auntie Mame, It circulated for five years through the halls of fifteen publishers and finally ended up with Vanguard Press, which is the end of the alphabet. This illustrates why using the alphabet may be a logical but ineffective way to find the best agent or editor. 


Talking in tongues

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  • 8 months ago > rochelledelborrello
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Writer’s block for my own story. I’m trying to decide if I want to enter this competition for the next 10 days. I’m about to declare Marilyn Manson’s Smells Like Children for my album. I’m still making decision.
I’m not really a fan of Marilyn Manson, I don’t even usually listen to him. The artist that I really want to declare for is DIR EN GREY’s, but I’m not sure how many of you have heard of them or their songs, so my writing to their album for public entertainment wouldn’t be so effective.
I also considered Nine Inch Nail but I didn’t want to drive a nine inch nail into my eyes at the end of writing my piece…so I decided against it. :P
This is the songlist for the album:
“The Hands of Small Children”
“Diary of a Dope Fiend”
“Shitty Chicken Gang Bang”
“Kiddie Grinder (Remix)
“Sympathy for the Parents”
“Sweet Dreams (Are Made of This)”
“Everlasting Cocksucker”
“Fuck Frankie”
“I Put a Spell on You”
“May Cause Discoloration of the Urine or Feces”
“Scabs, Guns and Peanut Butter”
“Dance of the Dope Hats”
“White Trash”
“Dancing with the One-Legged…”
“Rock ‘n’ Roll Nigger”
“Track 16”
The reason I’m hesitating in confirming this album is in relation to the competition rule #4: “Pay attention to the theme, the tone, the pacing, and the lyrics of the song. In other words, write to the song.”
I’m writing a dystopian, my favourite genre, and so the er…negative and somewhat trippy ambiance of the album is perfect for my backdrop. While being a lover and writer of dystopia means I will inevitably be twisting the norms of the world we live in, I still hope that what is found in any of my materials (now or in the future) will serve to challenge mindsets, not to offend sensibilities.
A lot of the songs in this album is downright offensive to some people, and I have to balance between 1) challenging the status quo to tell an entertaining story and 2) trying to still capture the elements of the song (though not too much!).
Anyway, if any of you other Tumblr writers out there are interetested in the challenge, click on the writeworld link below. Due date is September 1st.
writeworld:

Remember that new Challenge we’ve been promising? It’s here.
The Rules
Choose an album of any genre of music by any artist or band or composer. The album must be 10 or more songs in length or over 40 minutes of music.
Declare your album to us in a submit. We will add you to a public list on the Album Challenge page. You don’t have to write the entire piece before declaring your album. You must declare your album before submitting your entry. 
The list for entrants and their album is there so that people may see what has been chosen before they declare their album. There is no rule against two entrants choosing the same album.
Write 500 (minimum) to 1000 (maximum) words for each song. Pay attention to the theme, the tone, the pacing, and the lyrics of the song. In other words, write to the song. If your album is under 10 songs but meets the length requirement, we will expect the maximum (1000) number of words for each song piece. Yes, we will be counting.
Each song piece must fit with the other song pieces in one continuous plot. The entire album = one plot.
The songs must be in order.
The album must be taken as is. We will be checking to make sure that all songs represented on the album (and only those songs which appear on the album) are present in the submission, so be sure to clearly mark where in the narrative each song piece begins/ends.
There is no restriction for fan fiction, screen plays, poetry, or prose. You may write in whatever format you wish, but it must be at least 500 words per song piece and your submission must have one plot (poets, you too) for the entire album.
There is no restriction of genre (e.g., Romance, Adventure, Sci-Fi, Fantasy, Supernatural, etc.).
There is no restriction for point of view, tense, or any other style choices. The plot may employ flashbacks. These flashbacks may be limited to one song piece or span several. All stylistic choices are allowed, provided each song is represented in order in your submission.
As long as each song piece contributes to one overarching plot line, changing styles from song piece to song piece is permitted.
Please alert us to any triggers that may be present in your plot (e.g., rape, spiders, violence, sex, incest, etc.) at the beginning of your submission.
Entries are due by September 1st, 2012. Late entries will not be permitted to compete.
Submit your entries to us as one continuous piece. Song pieces may be separated by song titles or otherwise separated if you wish, but the entire entry must be in one post or submission. You may submit your entry to us here or post your entry on your blog and submit a link to it here.
This is a public Challenge. Your url will be attached to your entry. You may also include your name.
If you declare an album but decide against entering, we will not remove your name from the Entrant Album Listing page, though there is no penalty.
We will reveal how the winner is chosen and the prize he or she will receive on September 1st, 2012.
Example:
Song 1: I wake up.
Song 2: I go to work.
Song 3: I meet someone new.
Song 4: We go somewhere unexpected.
Song 5: We part.
Song 6: I go home.
Song 7: I go to sleep thinking of the new person.
Song 8: I wake up.
Song 9: I work.
Song 10: I miss them.
Song 11: The new person shows up unexpectedly.
If you have any questions or comments about the Album Challenge, please direct them to the Disqus comments section of this post or to our ask box. The rules for this Challenge may change as we receive input about the Challenge.
Get excited. Get writing.
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Writer’s block for my own story. I’m trying to decide if I want to enter this competition for the next 10 days. I’m about to declare Marilyn Manson’s Smells Like Children for my album. I’m still making decision.

I’m not really a fan of Marilyn Manson, I don’t even usually listen to him. The artist that I really want to declare for is DIR EN GREY’s, but I’m not sure how many of you have heard of them or their songs, so my writing to their album for public entertainment wouldn’t be so effective.

I also considered Nine Inch Nail but I didn’t want to drive a nine inch nail into my eyes at the end of writing my piece…so I decided against it. :P

This is the songlist for the album:

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  • 9 months ago > writeworld
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writeworld:


Writer’s Block
A picture says a thousand words. Write them.
Mission: Write a story, a description, a poem, a metaphor, a commentary, or a critique about this picture. Write something about this picture.
Be sure to tag writeworld in your block!



Gee’s note:
I scrawled this on my notebook (the book variety, not the computer variety), perched precariously on my lap (of the fat thigh variety, not the skinny variety). Try writing with pen on paper while riding a horse, and you pretty much get the picture of me writing in a moving Toyota Landcruiser om uneven road. And then I felt silly because I could have just fired up my laptop on battery and type instead and save myself a whole lotta trouble. HELLO, MY NAME IS GEE, I HAVE A MASTER DEGREE, OBVIOUSLY MONEY WELL SPEEEEEEENT. CHECK OUT MY BIG BRAIN! *snortsnort*.
Alright, on with the writing exercise (warning: long read and very hastily proofread!):
Dinah stared at the framed image on the wall—she has never seen anything quite like it. She has heard stories enough about it, learned about it in school…but seeing it is another thing.
The butler had told her to wait in the hallway, as if trying to remind her that her lot, if ever allowed indoors at an establishment like this, only deserves to be let in as far as the landing step of the house’s huge hallway. A huge mat that obnoxiously greets incomers “Welcome!” was just a few feet away, sending her a louder message: You are definitely not welcomed here, you can’t even make it past the welcome mat!
The butler had huffily walked off to inform Katarina Linden, theYoung Mistress, of her arrival. She knew that it will take him at least 10 minutes to walk from the front door to Katarina’s room, situated at the west wing of the massive mansion, and so she had that much time to inspect the image further.
The wooden frame itself must have cost an arm and leg—frames have been out of production for nearly 300 years, more so intricate wooden frames carved in the shape of climbing vines, do people even know how to do this nowadays?—and she shuddered to think what the image itself would have cost. The intricate wooden frame hold a glass casing, preventing Dinah from touching the image, but she suspected this was one of the fabled ‘paintings’ that were done with ‘real paint’ on a ‘real canvas’.
The image was so skilfully done, staring at it in the wooden frame felt like she was looking out a window to a different world. The image brought to surface a poem she used to love as a kid:
God made a beatous garden With lovely flowers strown, But one straight, narrow pathway That was not overgrown. And to this beauteous garden He brought mankind to live, And said: “To you, my children, These lovely flowers I give. Prune ye my vines and fig trees, With care my flowerets tend, But keep the pathway open Your home is at the end.”
She has never seen a real flower apart from the ones she saw on screen, and had no idea what a fig tree looked like. But in her mind, the image fits perfectly with the description of God’s Garden.
She moved closer to the ‘painting’ to see if there is indeed a home at the end of the pathway…
“Beautiful, isn’t it?” Katarina’s voice startled her and Dinah quickly scuttled back to her position a few steps away behind the welcome mat.

The butler, looking every bit scandalized, begged the Young Mistress to excuse him so he might call upon one of the servants to polish the glass of the painting. Dinah would have felt humiliated if guilt did not overpower her emotions. Against her better judgement, she had came too close to the glass, and the condensation of her breath had left a mark.
“It has been in my family for as long as we can remember,” Katarina Linden said. “So I’m afraid I can’t tell you much more about it if you want to. Although I guess we could dig through the family archives…”
There was an awkward pause.
Then, Dinah realized that Katarina Linden was waiting for her response. “Uh. Yes. I mean, no, I don’t need to know more so you don’t need to dig into the archive. I was just admiring it.”
“Then come closer and inspect it. You can’t see the details from way back there.”
Dinah gaped. “May I? Really?”
Katarina seemed confused. “Of course you may, why not?”
“Is this a painting of God’s Garden?” Dinah asked, and Katarina laughed. Dinah felt a little wounded, but explained nonetheless, “When I was younger, I read this poem called God’s Garden by an ancient writer called Robert Frost. In the poem, he wrote of a house at the end of the open pathway. I was looking for the house…that’s when…” Dinah felt humiliation crept across her face. “I’m sorry I dirtied your painting.”
“The house you’re looking for is not in this one,” Katarina either didn’t hear her apologies or chose to ignore it, Dinah wasn’t sure which. “But I can show you, if you would come along. I’m surprised this is the first time you took notice of the picture.”
“What do you mean?”
“You have been here often enough and long enough, how can you not notice a picture that has always been there?” Katarina Linden asked.
Dinah felt the question was incredulous, is this a trap? Is Katarina really asking this because she is truly ignorant, or is this a taunt?
“Obviously because I am not allowed in here. Servants enter through the servants door, Young Miss. If it wasn’t for your explicit instructions for me to come through the front door…”
Katarina Linden stopped on her track and gestured towards another image. “This one here, is this the house you were looking for?”
It was not quite a house but a cluster of houses, painted towards the back of the picture. As if the painter have been sitting down a fair distance away from the house. The view was breathtaking.
“So it is God’s Garden, then?” Dinah whispered, she wasn’t even sure why she was whispering but it seems the occasion called for it. 
“I don’t think so,” Katarina answered. “For if it was God’s Garden, there will be bright flowers glitt’ring in the sun, don’t you think?”
Dinah let Katarina’s words register before recognising the line, and exclaimed, “You know the poem!”
Then came another master, Who did not love mankind, And planted on the pathway Gold flowers for them to find. And mankind saw the bright flowers, That, glitt’ring in the sun, Quite hid the thorns of av’rice That poison blood and bone; And far off many wandered, And when life’s night came on, They still were seeking gold flowers, Lost, helpless and alone.
Katarina smiled when she finished reciting the poem and added, “There are only weedflowers here, those yellow ones there, so this couldn’t be it. Strange choice for a favourite poem, don’t you think?”
“I can show you ones with flowers if you like,” Katarina said. “Will you be in the summer home this summer? That’s where we keep all the ones with flowers.”
“All the ones…,” Dinah shook her head in disbelief. Another example of how extravagant the Lindens can be, or just how much fortune they possess. “How many of these do you have?”
Katarina took a while to response, probably taking inventory of all the expensive paintings her family owned, hung in various seasonal houses the family has, before finally saying that they had five, maybe ten, or fifteen, she cannot be sure.
When Dinah heard that, she wasn’t quite sure if she felt the paintings were beautiful anymore. Maybe it was envy and jealousy possessing her and taking over, but she suddenly felt that her emotion regarding the paintings now can be aptly describe as ‘obnoxious’.
Everything in the Linden family home seems obnoxious to Dinah one way or another. She have been working for the Lindens family every summer since she was 10. The summer home is closer to where she lives, and much smaller than the one she is presently not butler-welcomed at but still massive by her lot’s standard.
During the day, her duties varied according to the ever fickle need of the household, mainly the Mistress, Katarina Linden’s mother. The bulk of her duty seems to be to go out to buy bolts of fabrics. Last summer, the rage was ‘grey wolves fur’ and she had been sent to the fabric merchants with the detailed instruction that the fur should be “no less than 98% grey, be sure to tell the merchant that. The last time I asked for grey fur, he gave me one with only 95% of grey in it and there was a slight blue tinge to my shawl, I could have been the laughing stock of the party if Eva Olivia have not worn that 94% grey of hers!”
Sometimes Dinah will return with the order, correct down to the exact detail, but the Mistress would somehow managed to change her mind from ‘98% and no less grey fur’ to ‘24k gold plated silk with 20% absorbency’ in between the 15 minutes’ walk it took from the summer home to the fur merchant, and Dinah will have to run off again and swap the orders.
The upper class would not be caught dead with telephones—telephoning your orders in or to inform that you have changed your mind signals that you are not wealthy enough to own servants for the express purpose of running errands and delivering messages. Sometimes, catering to the Mistress’s fickle whims and fancies occupies most of her daytime duties that she spends all day running to and fro.
The Linden couple entertain nearly every night. Every night she set to wait on them, her calm and silent demeanour considered well-suited for a mute and obedient post. Every night the dinner table will be laden with a magnificent feast—chicken and carrots stewed in tomato sauce, spitting pork roast, steamed fish served with chilli sesame dips, beans cooked with garlic and nuts, mashed and creamy potatoes, roasted pumpkins, sometimes exotic food cooked by visiting chefs, a lot more food she can’t even identify—enough to feed everyone from her lot.
The men eats a lot, mostly only the meat, but the women would permit no more than a small scoopful or maybe two or three types of food served. “Just a little bit dear, oh, that will be quite enough for me, I have to take care of my figure for so and so wedding next month.” The rich women were as skinny as the poor women despite having more than enough to eat.
Ridiculous.
Note: This is about as far as I went. Sorry for any mistakes and bad writing, this was not edited due to time constraints. Hope you enjoyed it!
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writeworld:

Writer’s Block

A picture says a thousand words. Write them.

Mission: Write a story, a description, a poem, a metaphor, a commentary, or a critique about this picture. Write something about this picture.

Be sure to tag writeworld in your block!

Gee’s note:

I scrawled this on my notebook (the book variety, not the computer variety), perched precariously on my lap (of the fat thigh variety, not the skinny variety). Try writing with pen on paper while riding a horse, and you pretty much get the picture of me writing in a moving Toyota Landcruiser om uneven road. And then I felt silly because I could have just fired up my laptop on battery and type instead and save myself a whole lotta trouble. HELLO, MY NAME IS GEE, I HAVE A MASTER DEGREE, OBVIOUSLY MONEY WELL SPEEEEEEENT. CHECK OUT MY BIG BRAIN! *snortsnort*.

Alright, on with the writing exercise (warning: long read and very hastily proofread!):


Dinah stared at the framed image on the wall—she has never seen anything quite like it. She has heard stories enough about it, learned about it in school…but seeing it is another thing.

The butler had told her to wait in the hallway, as if trying to remind her that her lot, if ever allowed indoors at an establishment like this, only deserves to be let in as far as the landing step of the house’s huge hallway. A huge mat that obnoxiously greets incomers “Welcome!” was just a few feet away, sending her a louder message: You are definitely not welcomed here, you can’t even make it past the welcome mat!

The butler had huffily walked off to inform Katarina Linden, theYoung Mistress, of her arrival. She knew that it will take him at least 10 minutes to walk from the front door to Katarina’s room, situated at the west wing of the massive mansion, and so she had that much time to inspect the image further.

The wooden frame itself must have cost an arm and leg—frames have been out of production for nearly 300 years, more so intricate wooden frames carved in the shape of climbing vines, do people even know how to do this nowadays?—and she shuddered to think what the image itself would have cost. The intricate wooden frame hold a glass casing, preventing Dinah from touching the image, but she suspected this was one of the fabled ‘paintings’ that were done with ‘real paint’ on a ‘real canvas’.

The image was so skilfully done, staring at it in the wooden frame felt like she was looking out a window to a different world. The image brought to surface a poem she used to love as a kid:

God made a beatous garden
With lovely flowers strown,
But one straight, narrow pathway
That was not overgrown.
And to this beauteous garden
He brought mankind to live,
And said: “To you, my children,
These lovely flowers I give.
Prune ye my vines and fig trees,
With care my flowerets tend,
But keep the pathway open
Your home is at the end.”

She has never seen a real flower apart from the ones she saw on screen, and had no idea what a fig tree looked like. But in her mind, the image fits perfectly with the description of God’s Garden.

She moved closer to the ‘painting’ to see if there is indeed a home at the end of the pathway…

“Beautiful, isn’t it?” Katarina’s voice startled her and Dinah quickly scuttled back to her position a few steps away behind the welcome mat.

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  • 9 months ago > writeworld
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myinkstainedheart:

Hemingway said “There is nothing to writing, all you do is sit down at a typewriter and bleed”. Some have criticized the metaphor and said to use “bleed” is to suggest eventually one will bleed out, that it foretells the inevitable end but when I bleed, you take in what I give just as I take what flows from your veins into your pens and this leave me optimistic we won’t bleed out. This is like a multiple blood transfusion going on and on.

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Quick Updates and hereforth I shall no more be distracted. (P.S: NOT a promise, merely a weak resolve)

The Man is on the Xbox playing a game called ‘something something Rainbow Vegas 2’ by Tom Clancy. The Monster Mastiff lying down next to him, munching an equally monster bone.

Perfect. The bone crunching and the game’s rat-a-tat-tat shooting noise and chaotic sound effect is perfect background noises especially since I’m writing a particularly chaotic scene in my dystopian offerings. :)

Then my phone beeps to signal a text message. This is the content of said message:

Your participles dangles in every possible direction but ‘right’. So much so that I was tempted to tighten the noose to end their sufferings once and for all. What have they ever done to you, for you to torture them so?

That’s my Mother administering a strong dose of tough love, y’all.

(She is referring to a very small part of an incomplete manuscript she received from me yesterday).

I’m never letting my Mum read my blog. Ever.

I might eye gouge myself in a minute. Goodbye, cruel world! *dramatic pose*

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  • 9 months ago
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How I write

Arrived home. Exhausted. Pat dog. Resist urge to lie down and sleep next to dog. Shower. Quick snack.

Laptop on. Resolve: I will write at least 400 words today. Yes.

Wrote three sentences. Decides this particular plot needs a bit more researching.

Google it is!

Fire up Mozilla.

PROMPTLY FORGET GOOGLING STUFFS AND LOG IN TO TUMBLR. HELLO Y’ALL!

2 hours later…STILL ON TUMBLR. WTF.

AMAIGAT I ONLY WROTE THREE SENTENCES GRAND TOTAL OF 40 WORDS WTF FML STFUKMN.

I also forgot what I was going to look up in Google. Obviously researching THAT bit was soooooo important. -_-

You know what? Imma nap. Imma so nap the fug outta diz one and try again whenna wakeup.

Kthxbai.

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  • 9 months ago
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Shit just got serious

Guess who is the aspiring writer who bought this today?

All because my Mum told me to “LEARN HOW TO FUGGING WRITE, YOU DIMWIT!”

Ok, she didn’t use the F word and she didn’t call me a dimwit, but you get what I mean.

A couple of weeks ago, I sent Mum a package. I thought it would be too heartless and cold to send something without preambles and so much of a ‘how do you do’ so literally 15 minutes before I had to get out of the house, I tore a piece of college-lined paper and scribbled a hasty letter.

At the very, extremely, absolutely last minute, I also grabbed a rough manuscript of something I was working on months ago, that I never developed beyond first chapter. Actually, not even first chapter. It was just a small part of a first chapter. Man, am I pathetic or what? Just call me the snail writer.

Anyway, I bundled these off together and away on its merry way the package went.

Mum received it today. While she was delighted at the package, she was less delighted with my hastily scrawled letter and, most importantly, not so impressed with my partial MANUSCRIPT OF ATROCIOUS GRAMMAR AND MESSY STYLE.

Her words, not mine. I do not throw the word ‘atrocious’ like candies! And ouch, Mama!

You see, my mother is an English teacher. And a very good one at that. She advocates propriety in language, which means sentences like “I ain’t goin’ nowhere” ain’t gonna go down real well with her, no sir. She’ll probably tell me off for starting a sentence with “and” too, but she don’t read her no blog and she don’t know her no Tumblr, so we’re cool, bro.

When I first landed in this English speaking country, I experienced a strange sort of linguistic freedom. Whenever I make grammatical errors, I promptly pulled out my ‘English is my second language’ license and people will nod emphatically and let it slide.

“Sorreh, the using of the English is the rusty, Mister Senor Sir!”

In reality, we actually do speak English at home and since my mother is a proper English teacher, we were forever being corrected. And really, I do not have an excuse not to be proper when I have spent my lifetime being corrected. It just comes down to plain laziness.

If I’m going to attempt to ‘write’, I might as well brush up on this aspect. Grammar. Style. Bejeebus.

I haven’t got around to read it yet, but look, pictures!

I’m really not sure why the pictures are rotated 90 degrees when I post it on Tumblr. They were the right way up on my computer… o.0 

    • #gee
    • #writing
    • #the elements of style
    • #william strunk jr
    • #e.b. white
    • #maira kalman
    • #penguin books
  • 9 months ago
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Bloody fugging hell…

So I’m working on my untitled short story, let’s call it Project Gabriel for now, and I’m writing a huge amount of, you know, stuffs…

…I use Microsoft OneNote to write, by the way. Disorganization kills me, so Microsoft OneNote is perfect. Review here. If you’re on the newer Microsoft system, OneNote should be on there. Yes, I use Microsoft brands. Don’t kill me. I’m just not very techie when it comes to this sort of thing.

Anyway, halfway through writing Project Gabriel, a thought occurred to me that didn’t quite fit the storyline. So I opened a new tab on OneNote to ‘dump’ this thought, get it out of the way, you know?

Next thing I know, nearly half an hour later, I have developed another story. So now I have two stories running in my head.

This is precisely the thing I was trying to avoid. Distracted imagination causing The Box to overflow. Now I’m doing exactly the same thing, just on the computer.

I can’t avoid the running second storyline in my head too, so now I’m writing TWO. Madness. I give it today for this second story to ‘run out of juice’ and I shall continue to work on Project Gabriel.

Project Gabriel MUST be a finished product.

Fug me.

    • #gee
    • #writing
  • 10 months ago
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That moment when you feel like telling your character…

…to lighten up and man up, and wished he would do something about his predicament. Wish he would just see the world in a different viewpoint. Wished he’d just harden the fug up…

…and then realizing it’sYOUwho are writing this character…

…and then realizing that your character now has a life of its’ own…

…and then feeling proud of your baby…

…this character YOU are writing.

I’m sorry. I need to take a moment to cut my apron strings and realize my first character is all grown up and making his own decisions now.

Strange feeling.

    • #writing
    • #gee
    • #characterization
  • 10 months ago
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The Box from The Abyss Update, Stage 1 is 60% complete!

Note & Quick Summary: ‘The Box From The Abyss’ is not the working title of the story I’m writing. The Abyss is the name of the spare room we’re turning into a library/study/guest room. The Box is a box of notes I found while sorting things out. I’m attempting to make use of the notes in The Box and turn some of it into a 4000 words short story to be completed before 31st August 2012. Backstory here.


I mentioned before that I am an organized person. In whatever I do, I operate in an organized manner. As much as I admire people who are creatively and charmingly messy, I’m not that kind of person. I know people who sit down to write and finish whatever they wrote in a very nonchalant, debonair manner. I would love to be those people.

The unfortunate reality is that I am not one of those people. So naturally, I will be organizing my writing challenge.

I gave myself a due date of 31st August 2012, in order for it to be achievable and to accommodate my lifestyle (there is nothing I’m willing to give up in my present lifestyle!).

Well, turns out that the content of The Box was substantial enough that it could be mixed and matched perfectly. Writing has been a breeze up to this point and I’m up to 60% completion rate. Of course, considering I’m only writing a short story of 4000 words and not a novel of 50,000 words this might not even be good enough pace.

I won’t kid myself though. I’m concentrating more on finishing a rough draft of this project at this stage—let’s call it Stage 1--so the writing is pretty terrible.

“Write freely and as rapidly as possible and throw the whole thing on paper. Never correct or rewrite until the whole thing is down. Rewrite in process is usually found to be an excuse for not going on. It also interferes with flow and rhythm which can only come from a kind of unconscious association with the material.” (John Steinback)

Also, I need to point out that I wrote the end of the story before I started. Why? Because I needed to move forward and this includes not allowing myself to reread my work. Once the story has been written down, I need to go forward and aim towards the ending that I wrote. I guess it’s not the best way to write since you need to develop the characters and scenes as you go, but keep in mind that I’m writing a short story instead of a novel. I think in a short story, this should be acceptable because you need to bring the readers from the start to the end without sacrificing quality…but you only have 4000 words to do that with.

With no re-reads, predictably there are a few holes in the story to be addressed  at Stage 2. It’s mildly science-fiction so some facts, double-checking and research is needed. I didn’t want to research it now while I’m writing the story because then I’ll get distracted. I don’t know about you guys but whenever I Google/Wikipedia, I get off-tangent. I’ll be Wikipedia-ing to find out whether a tomato is a vegetable or fruit and see links within that points to ‘nightshade family’. Then I click on it out of curiosity and within that entry find out there are such things as psychoactive species and within that entry find….and so on and so forth. I can easily spend the whole day on Wikipedia learning everything, and yet finding nothing that I intended to research about in the first place. Writing the whole story down and finishing it will give me my research parameters.

(Also, this was a very useful skill I learned from writing countless of academic research papers!)

No doubt it will also be full of grammatical errors, stunted flow, confused style…I’ll deal with that at Stage 3. I need to complete stage 3 before the 21st of August 2012.

And after 21st August 2012 I’ll forget about the story. Yup. You read right. I’m going to forget about it. It’ll sit there, untouched and unread for a week. 

Stage 4, on 28th August 2012. I’m going to reread the piece again and see if it make sense. See if the story is watertight. See if there are no more jarring errors in it. Between that and 31st August 2012, I’ll need to make sure that the piece is a job well done.

And only when I’m happy with it would it go to Stage 5: The Finished Product. Woot! :)

    • #the abyss
    • #the box
    • #writing
    • #gee
  • 10 months ago
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The ‘smoked a pipe’ remark did it for me. LOL
thetravails:


“Read, read, read. Read everything - trash, classics, good and bad, and see how they do it. Just like a carpenter who works as an apprentice and studies the master. Read! You’ll absorb it. Then write. If it is good, you’ll find out. If it’s not, throw it out the window.”

- William Faulkner 

(he smoked a pipe, so you can trust his opinion)
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The ‘smoked a pipe’ remark did it for me. LOL

thetravails:

“Read, read, read. Read everything - trash, classics, good and bad, and see how they do it. Just like a carpenter who works as an apprentice and studies the master. Read! You’ll absorb it. Then write. If it is good, you’ll find out. If it’s not, throw it out the window.”


- William Faulkner

(he smoked a pipe, so you can trust his opinion)

    • #writers
    • #writing
  • 10 months ago > thetravails
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trading-places:

Miss this.
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trading-places:

Miss this.

(via cafeapostrophe)

    • #writing
    • #reblog
    • #penandpaper
  • 10 months ago > puckbox-deactivated20120219
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Pop-upView Separately

(via coeurdelhistoire)

Source:

    • #gee
    • #penandpaper
    • #writing
    • #journal
  • 11 months ago > cathysphotobook
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