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Printed from https://www.writing.com/main/books/item_id/1478547-Dreams-and-Swords/sort_by/entry_order DESC, entry_creation_time DESC/page/4
Rated: GC · Book · Biographical · #1478547
"All books are either dreams or swords."

"All books are either dreams or swords. You can cut, or you can drug, with words."
~Amy Lowell



Sig for my blog "Dreams & Swords"

These are my thoughts on my life and my writing, and how both seem to mix together in an odd confluence of events. I also thought this would be a good place to talk about things I've read both in books and on WDC. Combining all of my addictions all in one place. I warn you now that this will probably make no sense whatsoever and will often times leave you confused.

Welcome to my world.



A signature for Rising Stars


"The soul, secure in her existence, smiles at the drawn dagger and defies its point. The stars shall fade away, the sun himself grow dim with age and nature sink in years, but thou shall flourish in immortal youth, unhurt amid the war of elements, the wreck of matter and the crush of worlds."
~ Joesph Addison


The journey continues:
 Defying Fortune  (18+)
"Still defying fortune's spite; revive from ashes and rise."
#1631466 by LdyPhoenix
Previous ... 1 2 3 -4- 5 6 7 ... Next
August 15, 2009 at 10:19am
August 15, 2009 at 10:19am
#663707
I was searching the archives of YouTube, looking for an episode of a show I like to watch but can never catch on television, when I came across a couple of startling things about the video sharing website.

One: You can find some of the most random pieces of crap there. Seriously. Its quite possible to catch that band from the one late night show who played about a year and a half prior as a filler for that other well known band. Someone will have it there, posted in all of its obscure glory, waiting for the unexpected viewer (*raise hand shyly* me) to come and find it.

Two: People have the oddest tendency to make video montages of their favorites actors in television shows as couples. And they are some of the weirdest and hilarious couples ever imagined. But what is both equally amazing and disturbing is the amount of time and dedication people place into making these couple montages. I mean serious time. Scary is the thought.

Even worse...I spent time to watch a couple.
August 9, 2009 at 7:21am
August 9, 2009 at 7:21am
#662847
         Marriage and Pregnancy - a modern the chicken or the egg conundrum.

         More often then not these days pregnancy is a big factor in why many get married. While the notion seems noble, I often wonder if the action is more a way to erase guilt than to be honorable. I've heard all the arguments - the child should have a mother and a father, the child should carry his father's last name, its the right thing to do - there are parts of it I don't understand. While I somewhat agree with the first two arguments, the last one has me questioning - is it the right thing to do? Being a committed couple for all the wrong reasons not only damages the relationship between the two people involves, but it also damages the premise behind commitment for a child in the first place.

         Why can't a child bear the surname of his father and have two parents without getting married? I mean, if the couple wasn't ready to marry each other before the arrival of their child, why in the world would they decide to do it after? It seems to me the few benefits of a married couple on a governmental or legal sense are often overshadowed by the problems that it brings once done.

         One of the biggest obstacles is the decision to marry with a pregnancy in the works is the reason of commitment itself. The more I talk with friends about their marriages after such instances the number one worry they have is whether the father of their child married them out of devotion or because they were expecting. That simple idea can kill a relationship, hanging over the heads of a couple like a black cloud, because no matter what is said there is little that can dissuade the fear.

         My own stance, however naive it may be, is that people are better off being secure within their relationship by not being married and together than marrying for parenthood's sake. If two people will be more committed together by just being together without the paperwork than by all means. What is a better example for the youngsters - a happy couple together for the right reasons or a bitter couple together for all the wrong ones?

         Ultimately, people should chose for themselves what's best for them. Pressure from family or society, while not always easy to ignore, should be the last thing on the list of concerns for people considering a matrimonial union. Not only does it make you nuts, it has little to do with what should be a one-in-a-lifetime deal if you can help it.

         So there ya go, my two cents. While I know I will get some flack for this position I figure it is better to get it off my mind than spouting it to some stranger on the street. Feel free to tell me what you think. :)
July 30, 2009 at 11:27pm
July 30, 2009 at 11:27pm
#661570
I got it in my head about two, three weeks ago that I was going to write a YA novel. Having made up my mind that I was going to dedicate my time solely to this pursuit, my mind opened up and said, "Okay, here are some ideas to work with."

And, by some, I mean dozens.

Currently, I'm working on about three solid ideas for YA novels and one adult novel I've been tooling with for the past couple of months. I know what you're thinking because I'm thinking it too. For some reason my mind doesn't like it when I focus on one thing. It would rather I be driven insane with multiple idea offspring until I'm lathering at the mouth.

A couple of years ago I found out that my thought process is one of something called a Scanner. It was nice to find out that I wasn't the only one who had these crazy ideas that floats in and out of my consciousness. One of the things that Scanners are suppose to do to help them focus was to write down the new idea for later and continue focusing on the single notion.

I have yet to master that skill.

My biggest issue is finding the underlining theme of each story. Each as an element of magic, which is obvious as that's my main focus of my writing. However, each deals with issues that I never found when I was reading as a kid. I need to find the heart before I can concentrate on the outward appearances.

And yet, I have these ideas flowing through me a mile a minute. To be frank, its freaking tiring. I'm surprised more writers haven't gone stock-raving mad.

Thus - split decisions.
July 26, 2009 at 9:37pm
July 26, 2009 at 9:37pm
#660951
Hormones suck... that is all.

The Female of the Species

When the Himalayan peasant meets the he-bear in his pride,
He shouts to scare the monster who will often turn aside.
But the she-bear thus accosted rends the peasant tooth and nail,
For the female of the species is more deadly than the male.

When Nag, the wayside cobra, hears the careless foot of man,
He will sometimes wriggle sideways and avoid it if he can,
But his mate makes no such motion where she camps beside the trail -
For the female of the species is more deadly than the male.

When the early Jesuit fathers preached to Hurons and Choctaws,
They prayed to be delivered from the vengeance of the squaws -
'Twas the women, not the warriors, turned those stark enthusiasts pale -
For the female of the species is more deadly than the male.

Man's timid heart is bursting with the things he must not say,
For the Woman that God gave him isn't his to give away;
But when hunter meets with husband, each confirms the others tale -
The female of the species is more deadly than the male.

Man, a bear in most relations, worm and savage otherwise,
Man propounds negotiations, Man accepts the compromise;
Very rarely will he squarely push the logic of a fact
To its ultimate conclusion in unmitigated act.

Fear, or foolishness, impels him, ere he lay the wicked low,
To concede some form of trial even to his fiercest foe.
Mirth obscene diverts his anger; Doubt and Pity oft perplex
Him in dealing with an issue - to the scandal of the Sex!

But the Woman that God gave him, every fibre of her frame
Proves her launched for one sole issue, armed and engined for the same,
And to serve that single issue, lest the generations fail,
The female of the species must be deadlier than the male.

She who faces Death by torture for each life beneath her breast
May not deal in doubt or pity - must not swerve for fact or jest.
These be purely male diversions - not in these her honor dwells -
She, the Other Law we live by, is that Law and nothing else!

She can bring no more to living than the powers that make her great
As the Mother of the Infant and the Mistress of the Mate;
And when Babe and Man are lacking and she strides unclaimed to claim
Her right as femme (and baron), her equipment is the same.

She is wedded to convictions - in default of grosser ties;
Her contentions are her children, Heaven help him, who denies!
He will meet no cool discussion, but the instant, white-hot wild
Wakened female of the species warring as for spouse and child.

Unprovoked and awful charges - even so the she-bear fights;
Speech that drips, corrodes and poisons - even so the cobra bites;
Scientific vivisection of one nerve till it is raw,
And the victim writhes with anguish - like the Jesuit with the squaw!

So it comes that Man, the coward, when he gathers to confer
With his fellow-braves in council, dare not leave a place for her
Where, at war with Life and Conscience, he uplifts his erring hands
To some God of abstract justice - which no woman understands.

And Man knows it! Knows, moreover, that the Woman that God gave him
Must command but may not govern; shall enthrall but not enslave him.
And She knows, because She warns him and Her instincts never fail,
That the female of Her species is more deadly than the male!

-Rudyard Kipling
July 23, 2009 at 8:34pm
July 23, 2009 at 8:34pm
#660577
Not exactly. Not the point either. *Bigsmile*

I've begun to start writing again. Feels like pulling on an old, comfy sweater. The feeling of writing out a story has brought back some clarity I think I lost for a while. Its a good thing...I think.

I'm working on a piece called "The Dog Around The Corner". Its part of a workshop I signed up for about a month ago. Everyone participating is great, and it is a sight to see a bunch of writer using the same subject, but come up with completely different points-of-view. People play to their strengths.

Although I'm not sure what mine is. *Laugh*.

My biggest inspiration is a song by Ray LaMontagne - "Be Here Now". The song is one of the best I've heard in a long time. It captures the nervousness of my main character, Kelsey, an 7 year-old with some pretty nervous tendencies. Surprisingly, she reminds me of myself when I was that age. How personal history can come back and haunt people.

The thing I find most interesting about writing this, besides it delving into territory I haven't worked before, is that people have reviewed it. Stated in the introduction and the description is that its a workshop piece - i.e. not even close to being finished. Still, they felt the need to review and mark me down for the questionnaire I had listed as part of my assignment. There's something very odd, and slightly ironic.

I should have this finished in about a week. I'm intrigued on how this will pan out. *Smile*

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#1579086 by Not Available.
July 20, 2009 at 7:11am
July 20, 2009 at 7:11am
#660001
In doing some research for my own writing I came across an old gem that use to be one of favorite novels. Locked In Time introduced me to the suspenseful, air-tight plot and how a novel can take you on a whirlwind ride. The author, Lois Duncan, was an inspiration to me when I was younger, giving me my first ideas for writing my own work.

Its funny thinking about the things I read over a decade ago. How much life has changed from those days. I remember reading this novel and considering myself as a grown-up individual. Life was utter crap back then, but I found books as a way of escaping the terror. Locked In Time helped me grow.

I love running across old gems like this. It makes a person reexamine their own roots, and as I start my new project I enjoy the retrospection.
July 17, 2009 at 6:26am
July 17, 2009 at 6:26am
#659498
I had a bit of inspiration quite early yesterday morning. For some weird, unknown reason I feel the need to write a Young Adult book. Go figure.

I remember when I was in my teens how reading Young Adult books never did it for me. Often times I could never relate to the main character of the novel. None of them every looked like me. None of them lived how I had lived. And more times than not, their personalities didn't mesh well with mine. During that awkward period I wanted so very much to have someone to identify with. When none came, I switched to over to Adult fiction with all of its weird quarks and such. At least with the expansion of Adult fiction I could find writing a bit more my style.

If I ride out this spark of inspiration (there are a few ideas I want to work with) then I want to be able to write a book for the girl like me. I'm not looking to charm the masses or get famous from my writing. My one hope is that the book I write gets to the girl or boy who's feeling awkward and alone. When they read what I've imagined they can feel somewhat connected to the character, saying to themselves, "Wow, finally someone who's like me."

Its a long stretch, I know. But if I can go with the idea maybe something great can be born from the flame.
July 12, 2009 at 5:47pm
July 12, 2009 at 5:47pm
#658801
Today is the last day to enter in "The Elementalist Contest for the next month. I figured it was time to cut some thing off and whittle down my to-do list. There are campfire entries to write, reviews to be made, and writing to be done to keep my sanity. Between classes and weirdness I haven't really had time for much, but I know more than anyone that time doesn't simply come to you because you wish for it. If you want the time you have to make it yourself.

I'm halfway through my summer courses. By next weekend my Bio Anthro class will be finished, which will give me more of a chance to focus on my Psych class. Still, although my body is here my mind seems to be somewhere else. Sleepless nights and harsh dreams that seem to follow have made my days longer than wise. My own personal dreams don't shine as they once did.

There's a week in August between Summer and Fall Semester that I have off. Originally, I was planning a somewhat spur-of-the-moment trip, however the plans for that fell through much to my dismay. I figure that I'll take that week to refocus on my writing, to try and do something that will get me back on board with reality. Hell, if I'm desperate enough, I might head back to Purgatory (Bakersfield) and visit my little brother.

If I truly have a spirit than my spirit feels awfully old. I'm running pretty low on hope, on believing that all these years have meant something. I can't even call this depression as I remember what that feels like. This is just a deep-bone sense of tired that seems utterly ridiculous for a twenty-one year old girl.

So me and my friend Hiatus are going to hook up for a while. Maybe I can finally make sense of things once I'm through it all. Hey, that's hopeful, right?
July 10, 2009 at 10:37am
July 10, 2009 at 10:37am
#658527
There's a little black spider hanging out a corner of my bedroom. She's quiet, content, and doesn't move around a lot which works well for me. In my ever-expanding life of sleeplessness, I've decided to call her Sylvia. Don't ask me why, it just fits.

The whole naming insects thing dates back to when I was a itsy-bitsy girl. A neighbor of mine told that if I named the spiders and other crawly things I came across that the fear I felt would simply vanish. It took a while for the ritual to unfold, but lo and behold, naming the little suckers started to work. Now I name them out of habit.

Its rather odd, but I don't kill them unless its absolutely necessary. For example, should Sylvia decide to creep over to the corner over my bed and decide to set up shop, we'd have a serious problem. The average American eats eight spiders in their sleep per year. I'd like to be obvious to that number by cutting down on the chances.

Paranoid? Sure, but it works for me.

I give Sylvia two more weeks before she moves on to greener pastures and better pickings food wise. Still, having her around has given me a weird sense of companionship. We're both the quiet, librarian type. And I have a feeling she has a back history somewhat close to mine. It'll be a shame when she moves on.

And no, I'm not entirely sure I'm not losing my mind.

July 8, 2009 at 8:02am
July 8, 2009 at 8:02am
#658243
I'm thinking about changing my handle. Yep, I'm serious.

I've had problems with sleep before. Heck, I haven't slept a full night since I was nine. But this is going completely nuts. My mind won't shut off. My muscles are almost always tense. My eyes get hazy with the fatigue. Yet sleep still alludes me - a shadow in the night.

Still, today, I'm happy. After a crazy weekend in Purgatory leaving me in the ravages of madness, I can look away from that portion of my life which is a train wreck and smile. I have plenty going for me that makes the other crap null and void. I have a beautiful light that shines (even if he doesn't think so).

Love is a lovely thing. *Bigsmile*


Oh, almost forgot -

HAPPY BIRTHDAY Lonewolf !


(Ha, and you thought I'd forget.)

July 3, 2009 at 7:10am
July 3, 2009 at 7:10am
#657567
This is a story about a girl with freckles on her nose and a big black curls. She's a curious one, always searching for answers to the questions she can't understand. Often times that leads to a great deal of pain, but that doesn't stop her thirst for the truth. Truth, she thought, was the only thing she could ever be sure of.

The people closest to her saw this trait about her and tried to shield her from the pain. Others saw her fascination and used it for their own gain. Soon the shields and the takers formed a nice, small cage around the girl, one where she cannot see the walls of which surround her.

Oblivious, the girl continued on her quest, continued to remain useful to others.

Time went by and the girl wanted to spread her wings. The ones who wished to shield her say, "No! There is too much out there for you to be hurt by." The ones who wish to use her say, "No! Think of all you can do where you are." Not wanting to cause any trouble, the girl nodded her head, her black curls hiding the look of fear.

By the time the girl becomes a lady, the walls to her cage have started to close around her. She feels their presence without seeing the confines. The ability to breathe becomes harder and harder. Why can't I leave, she thought, troubled. Why can't I see what is outside?

It is one day, by sheer accident, the girl realized that there were caged walls surrounding her from the outside world. The slithering whispers and backhanded words of the takers caught her notice, making the cage all the more visible. The tight chains around her ankles, placed there by the shields, rattled in the darkness, filling her mind with terrible things.

Suddenly, the girl understands. She has stopped being useful. The pretense of shielding her was needed no longer. She was left in the captivity for all to see, a cute bird in a small cage. She had outlived her soul purpose. Only the outside could hurt her now, mock her now.

The wrath built slowly, tumbling and turning inside until it rose through the night like phoenix aflame. Rage as hot as the sun and as dark as the depths of all sorrow filled her soul. A lone cry tore from her lungs, making all who were her closest to her flinch away in dread. It echoed endlessly off the caged walls, making them tremble down to their very foundations.

The sound was not human. She was no longer human.

Forever changed, forever scarred, the girl took her rage out on the walls that contained her. Fire spread from the palms of her hands to the surface of the cage, igniting the fury she wished to grow. Her world on fire, she yelled once more to the sky, the wrath inside breathing new life into the girl's heart.

All aflame, the cages walls laid in waste at her feet as the girl took the first deep breath of her new life.
June 21, 2009 at 6:36am
June 21, 2009 at 6:36am
#655509
Yesterday was my 21st birthday, and my oh my, what a day it was.

Today started out mellow, which a change from the last week. The day progressed smoothly with phone calls and such. I received some lovely letters from my guy. Beautiful and thoughtful, I've been treasuring them for days. Everything went along splendidly.

One person who went way above and beyond the call of duty was my fantastic sponsor Gothic Angel gone . Even with her hectic schedule, she took the time to throw me a party here at WDC. There is no greater sponsor in the world better than Gothic Angel!

To: Stephanie Grace , Annette , ~WhoMe???~ , Wyn - missing III Jewel Busy Busy Busy! , Puja , demonic_soul, and everyone who has gifted or reviewed or simply stopped by to chat. Thank you from the bottom of my heart for the Merit Badges, the cNotes, the awesome chat party, the drinking advice (LOL), and everything else that has happened. *Heart*

As a side note, my first legal drink with family, which seems fitting. I've been officially carded for the first time, and have learned a few things about boozes. *Bigsmile*

If I could describe today as an alcoholic beverage, I'd say it works out to be:

2 parts - Smoothness
2 parts - Awesomeness
1 part - Spontaneous
A dash of Whiskey for Wisdom

Mix everything together nice and slow so it blends together with ease. Serve in a nice glass tumbler, sipping it slow to appreciate the flavor.


Today has been an all-around awesome day.

PS - To the ladies in chat who gave me drinking advice: No worries - it worked like a charm. *Wink*
June 15, 2009 at 6:21am
June 15, 2009 at 6:21am
#654567
Exams always seem to drive me a little bit batty. There's something about that stupid piece of paper with block print questions on it, the sole purpose of which is to determine whether I'm intelligent enough to someone's fucked-up standards, makes me furious, nervousness, indifferent, and apoplectic all at once.

I suck at any type of standardized testing, especially if I care about the outcome. If I don't give a flying rip about what score I receive for some reason I do quite well. Irony. Have got to love the irony.

The time I took the SATs, I fell asleep. I was spouting z's halfway through the math portion of the test. Surprisingly, I did better than many. However, my scores were less than stellar. In my own defense, I have full blown pneumonia. But still...

Honestly, there is a great hypocrisy to all standard testing. Those tests don't determine your value or IQ whatsoever. Those tests determine if you brain can function of a bizarre scale of intelligence that, given enough time, even a trained monkey could accomplish.

I could get into a whole psychotic rant about testing and the like but not tonight. All of this was simply to say that I took my first in Bio Anthro. Even computerize, without the block print questions, I still feel the battiness hours after finishing the damn thing.

Here's to hoping I did okay. *Sick*
June 12, 2009 at 11:52pm
June 12, 2009 at 11:52pm
#654299
The Penguins came back to beat the Red Wings in Game 7. *Shock*

The Pittsburgh Penguins are the Stanley Cup winners...

And to think, I almost put money on that game.

Go figure.
June 11, 2009 at 4:11am
June 11, 2009 at 4:11am
#654028
Stalemate - a perfect word for what I'm feeling at the moment.

There comes a time when, no matter what is happening, the will to push yourself forward suddenly fades from existence. I have found myself in this very predicament. Don't get me wrong, there are things I need to finish. The drive simply isn't there.

For example, my first exam needs to be finished by the end of the week. I'm not sure how I'm feeling about the material I've covered so far. Biological Anthropology is fascinating on many different levels, and the discussions I've been having with my classmates are ones of science fiction writers fantasies. Its just, at least for this moment in time, something hasn't clicked for me yet. There's a point where the information snaps on in the brain like flicking a light switch. But right now I've got nada.

If I were to make any time of guess as to why, I'd say it has to do with my birthday. Come the twentieth of this month I will be 21 years old. But as I get older I find that I feel more trepidation than excitement. My original birthday plans have been blown, as they have been for the past few years, and I come away with no need for celebration.

In truth, I almost forgot my birthday was coming up. More and more, I don't celebrate, even with my family. Not to sound melodramatic but it seems I'm fading away. And if there was anyone to blame for that it be me. I'm simply one of those people in life that is more part of the mechanics of everyday than something that is outstanding. Worse yet, I can't really say that I mind.

Soon enough this will fade. I'll be back with loads of determination (hopefully). Until then, I'm simply faking it until I make it.
May 31, 2009 at 3:03am
May 31, 2009 at 3:03am
#652417
My mind is mush. Something has happened to my life. Time has changed. I have changed.

And along the way short sentences have become my forte.

In order to come to grips with it I've decided not to talk about. I know, brilliant. To quote one my favorite movie dialogue scenes:

May those who love us, love us. And those who don't love us - may God turn their hearts. And if He cannot turn their hearts, may he turn their ankles, so that we may know them by their limping.
"Keeping The Faith" - The Bartender


Don't be surprised if I start talking about faith in the next few posts. It isn't so much about religion as it will be about faith in the human race. I don't have much of it, and I beginning to really wonder why.

But for something completely off topic yet somehow resonates in my mind with this theme is musical composition. More specially, the enormous talent out there by those willing to seek it.

I attended the recital of one my nieces yesterday afternoon. It was a surprise thing, and one that I found to be wonderful experience. Something bad came before I left but the experience washed most of my distaste away.

My niece was great. She performed a couple of simple piano pieces as she just started a couple of months ago, but she has a knack for performing. If she loves it (the expression on her face was nearly pure joy) then I expect to see great things from her in the future. *Smile*

The thing that stuck with me the most though was a little blond girl named Amy. Before the recital began her nerves got to her, forcing her to boot her lunch in the middle of the pews. The situation was handled quickly, quietly, and with great care to make her feel comfortable while being escorted off the stage by her dad.

About a quarter way into the program the music teacher asked Amy if she wanted to take her turn. The little girl was obviously frightened, she couldn't say a word as everyone turned their attention to her. But even with her fear, she nodded her head solemnly and took the stage with her head held high.

That nine-year-old girl has more courage than I will ever experience in my life.

The moment she began to play anyone with a mild understanding of music could hear that this little girl had talent. The most striking thing however was her second piece - a composition she had composed herself.

This piece was magnificent. It nearly brought me to tears and I don't cry. The range of emotion was breathtaking, bringing to life something we often take for granted. It was as if she imagined herself as a star and wrote those emotions into beautiful music. I'm still in awe.

If there is ever a moment where I would give up on humanity as a whole, all I have to do is think of that little girl and remember why most of us stick around for the long haul. Amy faced her fear even though she was given a way out.

Courage to fight to see another day. Keeping the faith with the hope that the next moment will all be alright.

Definitely something to keep in mind.
May 27, 2009 at 7:31pm
May 27, 2009 at 7:31pm
#651915
I'm currently crawling out of my skin.

I want to scream.
         To shout.
                   To break something into a million little pieces.

Everything is pissing me off. The little things that don't matter in the end are tearing my nerves to pieces. I'm so sick and tired of the hypocrisy in my life. There is no sense of privacy or honesty or anything that can be dealt with in a rational manner.

This week has been a series of blows to dreams I've had been working on for months now. One disappointment after a freakin' other.

Usually, I can hold in the anger, but the rage inside feels like thousands of tiny needles digging under my skin, taunting me to do something about everything around me. Its driving me up the wall.

I'm trying to salvage the small bits of planning I have left to get what need. There are things that need to get done, but at the end of the day I want to be free for once. I want what I want without everyone chiming in on how's it not a good idea for blah, blah, blah.

My grandfather used to say, "Name your limitations and so shall they be."

I'm tired of this box I've let myself be placed in. That part of my life is over. I'm DONE.

May 26, 2009 at 6:57am
May 26, 2009 at 6:57am
#651665
In my enduring wisdom *insert snicker* I decided to enter Octobersun's "14 Days, 7 Prompts, 1 Story Contest. I have to say I'm pretty out of shape when it comes to writing. I've been focused on other things for so long its a tiny bit pathetic. But I've made most of my deadlines, kind of, and am almost able to say that I finished the freaking thing.

The problem, however, is that I wait so damn long to post that I don't allow myself a chance to check for mistakes. This part is a bitch because I really need to edit this bad boy. The mistakes are glaring. So glaring, in fact that I know almost for certain that I won't be winning anything this contest round. But I feel this exercise is like quilting in a sense. The quilting comes around for me during the winter time. The first few rows of stitches are pure crap, but once you get a feel for it all the skill comes back.

My writing isn't terrific normally, but the writing in this piece is pretty bad. Once this thing is over I'm going to edit it to death until I feel it is somewhat up to par.

The other problem is that my original plot idea affords for a much larger piece that the slot given. The next time I try to write for this, which I will do because its fun, I have to come up with something a little shorter than necessary. As it is, I'm going to have to cut the ending short, which cuts down on the arc of the story.

If you feel the inclination to read it, you can check out here:
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#1550112 by Not Available.
May 21, 2009 at 3:43pm
May 21, 2009 at 3:43pm
#650949
I'm done.

I took the last one of Tuesday, finishing this Spring Semester on a high note. So, now, I'm basking in the glory of my time off. All six days of it.

Unfortunately, I will be going back to school on Tuesday, staring up my Summer Semester. Oh joy! For lots of fun during this festivities I'm taking Biological Anthropology and Intro to Pysch. Mind you that these are condensed course, cramming usually 18 week courses into just six weeks. Personally, I think I've lost my mind when it come to classes, but hey, what can I do.

Fortunately, I'm heading out to a baseball game this weekend in L.A. The evil Los Angeles Dodgers will be crushed under the heel of my awesome Anaheim Angels. *Bigsmile* Oddly enough almost all of my step-siblings will be tagging along so this should be a humongous package of crazy. If you read headlines of a family going mad at a baseball game in the news, please accept my apology in advance.

The breakdown ----> finals, baseball, crazy family.

Go me.
May 19, 2009 at 6:52am
May 19, 2009 at 6:52am
#650551
Whether writers believe it or not, I believe that we add a little piece of ourselves to the things we write. Sometimes it is the reliving of an experience that changed us, whether life altering or not, and sometimes it is in the dream of possibility that makes the idea or the scheme come to life through the page. Either way, we are all searching to resolve the conflict inside of our minds. Through writing we can achieve what we couldn't physically.

Going over all the story I have in my head I have finally found the link that compels each of my characters and the lives that they live. Redemption. I am searching for redemption.

It was in talking with a fellow writer from WDC that I realized where I had lost myself amongst all the trappings of writing a story. As I was telling them where I was with the character arc and story plot of the first of a series of books I hope to write, a question popped into my head that hasn't been able to simply fade away - what is the point of redemption?

I grew up in a religion doctrine that said all could be forgive should we just ask for it. However, as I have grown as a human being, I have found that the world is not as forgiving as my God is. People, in almost all walks of life, have a breaking point where they will turn on their own family or closest friend should they cross the invisible boundary placed on morality.

What is the breaking point? What is the point where you say enough is enough and turn away from the offender in need? And is there any hope for redemption?

The characters of my work are broken - in physical, emotional, or both. I can agree that we are all broken in some way, dwelling in lives of imperfection. It is in the hope that our transgressions will one day be erased or forgiven that many people continue to keep going on with their lives.

In contemplating this theory, I have come to the realization that this is why I favor the mythical bird, the Phoenix so much. After a long life of experience, the phoenix lies in a nest and sets itself aflame, only to be born from the ashes of its renewal. Rebirth is probably one of the most extreme forms of redemption to be imagined.

So I posed the same questions to I wrote above to anyone who reads and responds to this blog entry. What is the breaking point?
                   What is the point past redemption?
                                       Is it possible to be forgiven past the point of no return?

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