To begin, I suppose I should explain. Perhaps this will be my New Year's Resolution, tossed in the back of my mind and only remembered at the most inconvenient of times. The general idea is that this confused, convoluted page will become of a journal to me. I'll tell the cyberspace of what I write and how the process is going in the hopes of guilt-tripping myself to write more.
I'll begin with my winter break. I made some significant strides in my piece written originally as a NaNoWriMo attempt. As it stands it reads 6902 words long, mostly nonsensical prose. Beyond this I also added a few entries in a prompt journal I bought. They're very small pieces, and I likely won't do anything with them, but it was nice to be forced to write about things I'm not necessarily comfortable with.
At the moment I am sifting through my poems and deciding which to submit to a student poetry contest. I think my poems are thoughtful enough, but I don't think the thoughts will be seen as special when set against all the other student poems so similar to them. Still, it will be nice to do something with all my poems.
I suppose that is all.
So it's summer now and I feel the clichéd wings of change spreading from my book-broken back.
Therefore, it's time I end this BS. I'm not deleting my blog, but I'm going to be changing the writing component of it. I'm tired of the blog full of procrastination rants and overdramatic writing critiques. I might still include them on the blog, but they will most likely be moved to the Whatever part of the site.
Instead I will be posting my writing! These will be any snippets or components of literature that I want to share with the world. They may or may not go on my Figment Page as well.
What does that mean for all these previous posts? Well, I will try to hide them or move them. However, if that fails then I will most likely result to deleting them. Wish me luck!
Until recently, I've been writing my novels by having the main character be almost exactly like me. I would just shove my entire conscience into the adventure, give my own reactions and my own opinions. That worked out great *motions at all the horrid unfinished novels on my desktop*. I didn't really understand why they were always so bad. I mean, when I'd summarize the plots to my friends or explain the concept in my head, it sounded extraordinary. Then, when I'd read it, it'd go something like this:
1) Opens document
2) Rereads some and realizes the audience has no freaking clue what this character's past or personality is like
3) Anxiously inserts random backstories and facts into places in the plot that absolutely did not need them
4) Saves document and leaves
5) Returns a week later
6) Continues writing
7) Feels the need to add another backstory
8) Rereads the novel
9) Realizes that the main character explains about her happy middle class life before novel then later in the plot she explains her miserable poverty stricken teenage years (as an example)
10) Angsts and cries
The character was so familiar that I always forgot to explain her actions, motives, etc. I did this with minor characters too, basing them off friends OR EVEN CHARACTERS FROM OTHER BOOKS. Now take a second to judge me. I know, I'm a horrible person. I just wanted so badly to just insert myself into a fantasy world, and (oh yeah) I was a teenager. Let me make my mistakes, I promise I won't publish them.
Now, I think the only way to make a character that the reader understands and that I can truly write about is one that is near opposite of me. This has worked wonderfully in the past with short stories, and I'm not sure why I thought it wouldn't work well for novels. So I think I'm on the right path now. Hopefully, future works will be far less confusing.
And here, since that was probably way too much text to read I'll include some pictures of my favorite main characters (that google images have pictures of) to attract attention. Yeah, I really want someone to read my blog. :/
I'm not sure if this is supposed to be in the Whatever or Writing blog, but I'm already on this page so it shall go here. If you couldn't tell by the title, you might be a bit challenged. I'm trying to figure out what I want to do with my life!
Yes, I am well aware I am only a soon to be sophomore in high school. I think it's better to be wondering now rather than wake up some morning in college and sob because I'm not living the life I want. It seems all I hear are those kinds of stories. And I can see myself holding a story like that as well. I mean, all my life I've lived to reach the expectations set for me. Go to school, get good grades, work hard at sports, hold interest in science and math fields, have a little fun, participate in extracurriculars. It's a charmed life, and mostly fun at that, but I don't feel like I'm really doing anything great. I'm slipping into normal, boring, safe. All my life I've been surrounded by this bubble of comfort and fear for the big bad world.
Now I'm ready to explore. Premed will always be the backup, or perhaps Law, but for now I have no plans. I want to find some niche, some career that will make me be something more than a small town suburban girl. There's seven billion people in this world, and I'm only one. As cliche as it sounds, please don't hate me for saying this, but I only get to live once. I'm going to make sure I kn
Recently, I found myself sitting on a plane. Alone in a crowd, for the first time in my life. My suitcase was packed. My heart was pounding as my mind went through a checklist to make sure all was ready. I was traveling alone, the raw power of my own individuality causing some sort of delightful shock within myself. I was empowered, ready to work towards something I'd wanted to pursue for so very long. I was going to a writing camp in Portland, Oregon.
As it turns out, the camp was extraordinary. It was one of the best experiences I've ever had. I met so many people, saw so many sights, had so many adventures. It's impossible to explain in one post, and perhaps I'll have more telling about the specifics of the trip.
Let's focus on the writing though, since this is the Writing blog. I learned a lot about it there, obviously. Although I didn't get to do nearly as much creative writing as I would have liked, it was still such a learning experience. I figured out what I did and didn't like in writing. I learned I write better in the earliest moments of the day. I created pieces of literature that make me smile and cry all at once. I reflected on stuff I wouldn't have even considered to reflect upon. For the first time in a while, I felt like I was sure writing was part of my path in life. I don't know how, or why, but I was positive that I was meant to write.
So where do I go from here? A week has passed, a mere seven days, and I feel like I'm slipping on that sure footing. I'm beginning to think that where I am, what I call home, may not be home anymore. So long have I worried that I will learn to love this strange, uneventful life that my parents have found and I have been born into. I do not think I will be happy with this anymore. I want my own adventures, my own stories. I want to see the world, the good and the awe striking. Now, there is only the escape and the consequences that will follow. I wonder where this excitement will lead me. I wonder if, in six months, I'll be back on this computer with nothing to say as usual. I
I'm writing a science fiction novel (well not right now I'm on a bit of a hiatus). I felt it necessary to express MY OPINION on what good and bad things come with writing in this genre. It's not always easy, and I'm finding a lot more challenges than I had planned, but it's crazy fun when you're on a roll.
So, in honor of Margaret Thatcher RIP, I am going to tell you about my pathetic war against myself. It's not going to be inspiring or moving, it's going to be agonizing. I shouldn't complain. I really shouldn't. My entire battle seems to be one great First World Problem. But, unless Gandalf, Dumbledore, the Greek Gods, or Fate wishes to convince me otherwise, I'm stuck quarreling like a pouty child.
Let's begin with the obvious. I'm writing a novel. I hand wrote the rough draft in one year, and am now in the process of typing it up. Except I've come across a huge problem. My writing is and was completely sporadic. As I wrote it, I was unsure where I was going with it. Even now, I am desperately searching for the right details and specifications. This is where I have created a disaster. As I figure everything out, I tend to randomly switch perspectives, views, and moods. Now, my book is a mess... a tangle... of crazy plot twists and unclear characters. I feel horrible. This is my greatest and saddest defeat. I have to finish it though. I have to go down with the ship. Don't I?
So... does anyone know what I can do? This is a totally desperate attempt, and I know so few people actually read my blog, but is there someone else on the planet that feels the same? Please don't be silent
School is starting, our summer reaching a grinding halt in the cooling air. Such a sad moment, especially when you feel as though you have wasted an entire summer doing nothing. I, as you may know, am I horrible procrastinator. I have had almost an entire three months to type my book, and I am only a mere twenty-eight pages into it. How tragic, and dumb of me. I guess what I'm trying to say is that I have decided to work harder at publishing and retyping my book. I have decided that I will finish typing it by May 2013 and the latest. When I am done, I will work on publishing over the summer. If any of you few readers have any publishing tips, I beg of you to comment on this entry. Any opinion will be valued. Also, I plan to write more stories on my Figment page, and publish some stories that have not been put up yet. So, with that, I leave you with this thought: Sometimes nothing is just what you need to begin again. You never
I've been needing to make this update for awhile now (like since May 6th), so this is going to sound completely out of date. I recently got a Macbook Pro os x Lion for my birthday, and I am actually writing this entry via my laptop. Anyways, I have begun to transfer my handwritten book to a typed document. And as I worked on this, I realized something. About 14 of my written pages are equal to around 26 typed pages. Well, this is going to take up like half the memory of my computer in the end. Ha ha, let the writing begin!
Write or watch the newest Modern Family? Write or text my friends? Write or bake cookies? I have been so distracted these days. As the book I'm writing reaches a stopping point, I can't seem to get myself to finish those last few pages. My procrastination is reaching extremes, and I absolutely hate it. What do you do to get yourself to work, cause I've got nothing. Wish me luck. :)