So my friend and I cleared out her spare room to create a sort of writing nook for our writer's night and it's great! I love 'my' little table with the large lamp (that is off by the way... as if it matters) and my candle next to me. I have celtic music playing because that always best sets the mood for fantasy writing for me. I have a soda from taco cabana and green tea with honey. My rough sketch of my world's map is on one side, my phone on the other and I am madly typing away here.
Yet struggling with my story. It's just not flowing naturally. None of the feelings or the sounds. I've been stuck on this beginning for days, but now it seems that this beginning is just now how it is to be, which makes me sad. I know so much about this world, I feel it in my veins and see it in my mind...
Yet the story is just not coming to me. I know where it starts; a desert village. And who it starts with; Ake'lanka, my hunter, and her hyena pet, Aun. I know what she's doing; hunting.
But maybe I'm having her hunt the wrong thing. Maybe I shouldn't introduce Ret so soon. Maybe I need to do like Tolkien and set up the character and the world and the feel of things before he comes into play and sets the ball rolling, despite being the main character of this story line.
And I think I got it now. Perhaps.
Wednesday, January 30, 2013
Monday, January 7, 2013
From First Gear to Second to Neutral
I planned my fantasy story a lot for a few days, then wrote a few sentences, than wrote three pages of a fanfiction and half a page on my plague story.
And now I just don't feel like writing. I feel like... doing home decorating stuff. But I'm sick. I've learned one thing though, that a lot of times, if your mind or body or heart tell you something, you should listen to it. Don't make excuses, just do it. A lot of times, once you do that, all those things you've been wanting to do but haven't had the inspiration to do, or motivation, or energy, you suddenly can do without a problem.
Sometimes it's difficult, like me wanting to move out. There are so many lifestyle changes I want to do; I need a change of scene. I can't do any of those living with my parents, but lo and behold, I have no money and Sears has been putting me on hold for a month. Still, my parents don't dictate the things I do with my room and I want to change that all around again. I like the corner I sleep in now, so I'd like to move my bed there, and have the window next to me.
My first goal, what with online classes starting and all, is to get my desk cleaned up so I can use the calender for when things are due. Get that area cleaned up, get my clothes sorted and put away so I can work on my bed, work on the bedside table so I have more storage space. I kind of want to see if my mom will let me paint it.
That's the thing my parents don't understand. They don't need a change of space, or think they don't anyway. This house has been almost the same since we moved in (we changed the furniture because it was falling apart and we painted the walls because it was peeling). We added a fish tank that my dad can't keep clean (and then yells at me for my messes). I have changed my room around three times.
I keep pushing for a change. New stove and oven and microwaves that work; tile that's not stained and cracking; carpet that's not coming up; take down the peeling wallpapers and paint the walls. I guess pinterest doesn't help.
And I know I'm ranting about non-writing related things, and I'm trying to keep this journal writing related only, but this is what I'm craving. A change. And I need that change to kickstart my writing again. I can't live by my parents' lifestyles anymore. Everything's so... dirty and cluttered. I know people say I'm no better because of my room, but I've been trying for ages to clean my room. They won't let me get rid of anything and it just needs to be done. Most of my clothes I haven't worn in nine years? Some longer than that. There are books I don't have any interest in; toys from when I was a child...
I just want a space of my own. A space to relax, a space to work, a space to write. Rules of my own, lifestyle of my own, traditions of my own. I like going to the gym regularly; I like eating at six instead of eight; I like eating breakfast; I'm lactose intolerant so it's nice to have nondairy stuff on hand; I like cooking a variety of meals; I like change.
I like listening to music through a stereo, I like watching episode after episode of shows, I like sitting in a dim room to write, I like to eat more than a slab of meat and frozen veggies and rice, I like cleanliness and organization, I like accessories around the house, I like books and mystical things and adventure.
And my parents say they'll change things. They have this grand design for our basement. But they don't do anything. My mom's daily cleaning routine: dishes. My mom's weekly cleaning routine: her bathroom. My mom's monthly cleaning routine: sweep the hall.
Since I'm currently unemployed, I'm supposed to help out around the house, and that's what I'm doing starting tomorrow. I'm cleaning my room, REALLY cleaning the bathroom, and hopefully cleaning the living room. This means dusting, scrubbing, walls, floors, picking up messes. My room will take more than a day, so I'll just do the desk and maybe the clothes tomorrow. And of course, all this is ONLY if my father feels better tomorrow and leaves the house; otherwise he'll throw a fit about SOMETHING.
I think, when I can live my life the way I'm supposed to, I'll be able to write like I used to. Write freely and without a care.
And now I just don't feel like writing. I feel like... doing home decorating stuff. But I'm sick. I've learned one thing though, that a lot of times, if your mind or body or heart tell you something, you should listen to it. Don't make excuses, just do it. A lot of times, once you do that, all those things you've been wanting to do but haven't had the inspiration to do, or motivation, or energy, you suddenly can do without a problem.
Sometimes it's difficult, like me wanting to move out. There are so many lifestyle changes I want to do; I need a change of scene. I can't do any of those living with my parents, but lo and behold, I have no money and Sears has been putting me on hold for a month. Still, my parents don't dictate the things I do with my room and I want to change that all around again. I like the corner I sleep in now, so I'd like to move my bed there, and have the window next to me.
My first goal, what with online classes starting and all, is to get my desk cleaned up so I can use the calender for when things are due. Get that area cleaned up, get my clothes sorted and put away so I can work on my bed, work on the bedside table so I have more storage space. I kind of want to see if my mom will let me paint it.
That's the thing my parents don't understand. They don't need a change of space, or think they don't anyway. This house has been almost the same since we moved in (we changed the furniture because it was falling apart and we painted the walls because it was peeling). We added a fish tank that my dad can't keep clean (and then yells at me for my messes). I have changed my room around three times.
I keep pushing for a change. New stove and oven and microwaves that work; tile that's not stained and cracking; carpet that's not coming up; take down the peeling wallpapers and paint the walls. I guess pinterest doesn't help.
And I know I'm ranting about non-writing related things, and I'm trying to keep this journal writing related only, but this is what I'm craving. A change. And I need that change to kickstart my writing again. I can't live by my parents' lifestyles anymore. Everything's so... dirty and cluttered. I know people say I'm no better because of my room, but I've been trying for ages to clean my room. They won't let me get rid of anything and it just needs to be done. Most of my clothes I haven't worn in nine years? Some longer than that. There are books I don't have any interest in; toys from when I was a child...
I just want a space of my own. A space to relax, a space to work, a space to write. Rules of my own, lifestyle of my own, traditions of my own. I like going to the gym regularly; I like eating at six instead of eight; I like eating breakfast; I'm lactose intolerant so it's nice to have nondairy stuff on hand; I like cooking a variety of meals; I like change.
I like listening to music through a stereo, I like watching episode after episode of shows, I like sitting in a dim room to write, I like to eat more than a slab of meat and frozen veggies and rice, I like cleanliness and organization, I like accessories around the house, I like books and mystical things and adventure.
And my parents say they'll change things. They have this grand design for our basement. But they don't do anything. My mom's daily cleaning routine: dishes. My mom's weekly cleaning routine: her bathroom. My mom's monthly cleaning routine: sweep the hall.
Since I'm currently unemployed, I'm supposed to help out around the house, and that's what I'm doing starting tomorrow. I'm cleaning my room, REALLY cleaning the bathroom, and hopefully cleaning the living room. This means dusting, scrubbing, walls, floors, picking up messes. My room will take more than a day, so I'll just do the desk and maybe the clothes tomorrow. And of course, all this is ONLY if my father feels better tomorrow and leaves the house; otherwise he'll throw a fit about SOMETHING.
I think, when I can live my life the way I'm supposed to, I'll be able to write like I used to. Write freely and without a care.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)