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Blogs, articles and wild stabs |
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"When I am writing, I am trying to find out who I am, who we are, what we're capable of, how we feel, how we lose and stand up, and go on from darkness into darkness. I'm trying for that. But I'm also trying for the language. I'm trying to see how it can really sound. I really love language. I love it for what it does for us, how it allows us to explain the pain and the glory, the nuances and delicacies of our existence. And then it allows us to laugh, allows us to show wit. Real wit is shown in language. We need language." Maya Angelou This blog is my excuse to keep at writing. An avenue at finding new ways to discover the inner mystery.I hope you enjoy these journals with as much intensity as I was led to create them. A writer doesn't write because he has an answer, he writes because he has a story.  Eneh Akpan. |
| 2010. It was a very good year. These 365’s been twelve months of prolific adventures for me. I got in touch with lots of exciting stuff in my search for ideas for blog posts. I think I owe it all to my muse for recognizing the knock of opportunity, or I might quite possibly have run out of gas. Making a comeback to blogging was like witnessing my own rebirth. Last year, 2009, I could afford to blog a little over four posts before I spluttered to a halt. This year offered prospects on a platter of gold yet, I wasn’t living up to it. It was not until the turn of October, September slash October actually, that I would give blogging another shot. Faced with an intimidating feat of creating 50 poems to immortalize my country’s 50th Independence Anniversary − to be up front with you about this, I almost caved in and got rid of the jibe – now opportunity wasn’t knocking on my door, it winged it all off the hinges. The initial plan was to post a poem a day, sort of like what I did with the twelve days of Christmas poetry sequence. A countdown to the D day. That wasn’t going to happen though, cause I blew the whole thing out the front door from the outset. I got myself buried under a heap of officious chores the first week I was to set it in motion and had to consider the possibility of doing my usual thing − wait until Independence Day (that’s October 1 in Nigeria) and post just one poem in honor of a great nation. Something way down the basement of my mind wasn’t willing to go with the usual thing and just plunge into the flow. I mean, like you only get one chance at celebrating a Golden Anniversary, right? There are other interesting elements in Nigerian history that strengthened my resolve, the simple fact that for 50 some odd years, a nation of millions – of different tribes, dialects (over 300 of those), and peculiarities – has hanged on as one nation is a theme busting with enough proton particles to initiate a poetic odyssey. So, I plugged into the charge. Every day, on my way home from work, riding the bus, I would pull out my journal and write. I thrust myself right back into my journal once I got home, writing into the still of night, many times falling asleep at my writing desk. The next day, on my way to work, I would write again. I went on and on until I hit the fiftieth verse. You ask, how did you feel after you blogged the poems? Like a Patriot. Yeah, I felt like I was part of something great and unique. Like I earned a deserved spot among the Heroes past who put this great nation on the world map! Poetry has helped me out of unpleasant situations and it did one more time. I set out with a plan of posting two blogs a week which would place me at roughly twenty four articles by the end of December. I think I outdid myself with over forty of those. And if I have to count each poem in the Mission Impossible (the 50 poems I wrote for my country’s Independence Anniversary) sequence as individual posts, I would have hit the 100 mark. I’m not arrogant, just proud of what I achieved. About 2011 and New Year Resolutions, I think I’ll cut myself some slack next year, cut back on the articles. I need more time to focus on my short stories plus I got an eye on NanoWrimo coming way up November. I got a lot of digging for information to do, so much research work. I’m looking at thirty 2,000 word short stories by the end of 2011. That’s going to demand strict concentration but I think I’m up to it. The goals are meant to keep me on my toes, remind me of who I am. If I never achieve all I set out to accomplish, I would only be a few inches off the bull’s eye. And that’s alright by me. For me, 2011 is abbreviated in two words – short stories. Here’s mine. Where’s yours? Have a happy and monstrously prolific 2011! Let your pen keep bleeding! Eneh |
| Thoughts of you are paradise, Feet to the stars. Your outline could not be prettified, Cos you glide with grace As dazzling as metaphoric phrase Off the pages of poesy’s journal You convey the tears to Cupid’s eyes For his darts would not allure Such exquisite sweetness. When you smile Heaven sneaks a peek The universes glitter in a river of radiance I weep In glee of a new found friend In an unsettling climax that endures To the last scenes of a winding plot. Eneh |
| Art is self-expression. Steven Barnes A shot of genius lurks in the dark corners of every heart. You will find art lunge at you when you unlock emotions that you hide. And the experience of self – of who we really are – is the finest quality of ingenuity we will come into, ever. As day dims in twilight and night sheds her skin to wake a new dawn, we stumble into yet another portal further down corridors of our barely-explored depth. Thus, we are ushered into a personal understanding of the mystery on our insides. Life is pure adventure, and the sooner we realize that, the quicker we will be able to treat life as art. Maya Angelou Every time we pick up our pen to talk on paper, to reveal our feelings or share a thought, we create art. It is different, eternally so, from genius because Art is the way we present self which you would agree is a long shot from the way we are accepted as individuals. The question of whether or not something is Art is completely separate from the question of whether it is RECOGNIZED as being so. It transcends the question of judgment, and needs not be labeled or acknowledged to be what it is. It is a private, personal truth. Steven Barnes All of God’s children are artists and that is in equal measure as s/he is a work of art. The problem is remaining an artist after we taste our first real-life battles whether we fail at it or survive and go a step further to thrive. Splashing words on a page has its merits – artistic and otherwise – and this puts on some weight if feelings is genuine. The expression of art ought to bring along with it a liberating sense of release to the person on our insides. It ought to lift us above the turbulent reactions of the world to our nature. It should set us free, in other words. And right there is the miracle of life. Then, we spread our wings like a young butterfly fresh from the morph and lunge into the shades of the deeper self to have a swill on seasoned nectar that is pure art. Don’t hesitate to express yourself today! Let your pen keep bleeding! Eneh |
| Passion is blind As blind as a blinded bat In the neon of a Vegas night As blind as a lover’s fury On the verge of vendetta. Passion will make you achieve Almost anything You set your heart on. You can accomplish any feat And not experience a whiff of defeat, When inspiration’s exhale Sweeps you off in the heat of passion. Passion does not perceive the impossible Passion don’t falter under pressure Passion will thrive in a pregnant pause. Passion needs glasses To visualize you can’t make it thru the rain Passion’s got to have hybrid organs of sense To feel you are hindered by pain. Cos passion is blind To snafus of any kind. Eneh |
| I have something that might interest you. Never mind the title of my post. It’s not an attempt to plagiarize Dan Brown’s work. Matter-of-factly, it’s the furthest thing on my mind at the moment. You could say it’s a shot at immortalizing Pablo Picasso’s words, My mother said to me, “if you are a soldier, you will become a general. If you are a monk, you will become the Pope.’ Instead, I was a painter, and became Picasso. Don’t you just adore the audacity of that declaration? What does it take to be able to quote you; to stand on the mountaintop and speak across the stretch of a lifetime, and have the echo of your words carry across meadows, out-of-the-way prairies, through the most unlikely crannies of the earth many generations after your soul dissolves into eternity? Picasso showed a passion and a skill for drawing from an early age; according to his mother, his first words were ‘piz, piz ’, a shortening of ‘lápiz’, the Spanish word for ‘pencil’. http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Pablo_Picasso In 1900, after studying Art in Madrid, Picasso moved over to Paris where he made friends with Max Jacob (journalist and poet) with whom he shared apartment. They had a sort of sleeping timetable. Max maxed out at night, while Picasso stole a wink during the day and worked all night long. Those were tough days and reeked of cold and despair, so Picasso torched quite a few of his work to keep the small room warm. Really, I’m not about to do a run up of Picasso’s bio you can look that up on Wikipedia if you like. These are vital lessons from a simple, extraordinary life. Something anybody who finds it in their heart to be sincere about their personal call in life ought to take and run with it. He can who thinks he can, Picasso says, and he can’t who thinks he can’t. Is it really possible to surround yourself with all the tools of a life on the verge of explosion – a dream, ambition, and ammunition – and still miss the mark? Oh, I’ve heard of people missing the mark by over a mile riding popular opinion. But this is as different from that as a whiff from a whim. Close your eyes and imagine a picture perfect portrait of you in other people’s opinion. Now, create another picture, this time on a personal canvas, a painting of you as who you ought to be. Step back and assess your progress in the race to the finish line. Have you been a butt kisser? Would your life, ten to twenty years from this moment in time echo Picasso’s words? Picasso was exceptionally prolific throughout his long lifetime. The total number of artworks he produced has been estimated at 50,000, comprising 1,885 paintings; 1,228 sculptures; 2,880 ceramics, roughly 12,000 drawings, many thousands of prints, and numerous tapestries and rugs. http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Pablo_Picasso My hope is that in this brief diagram of a life fulfilled you have witnessed something more to challenge you for the rest of your life. Let your pen keep bleeding! Eneh |
| Poetry is reflecting what you feel deep inside. That’s about all that this piece’s about; the inward release that leads to the creation of a higher form of writing. I do hope I can pull it off in this second installment then, I can really call this a wrap. Early on, in the first part of this topic, I remember going on about varying degrees of mastery as the rock that trips many beginner poets. I intend to slap some flesh on that skeletal frame. If you can understand perfection as a process, as a quality that comes by keeping your nose to the grind it shouldn’t take you a second to figure out why your initial attempts at writing poems suck. Sometimes, a wild stab could create something of a beauty, like a toddler draws squiggly worms running his fingers through beach sand. A sudden gust of inspiration works that kind of magic, but occasions are rare and that’s where personal effort takes the helm. In time, you will discover what works and what doesn’t and most importantly, you will find a voice of your own from that moment on it is smooth sailing. Reading inspired poetry does rub off on you if you read with an intensity befitting a seeker, an individual searching between the lines, riding the lilts of cadence as he seeks to unravel the passion that drove the poet persona. As a child learning to write poetry, a major setback of mine derived from the fact nobody wanted to hear me recite verse. They would rather have me sing the same words. So, I start scribbling a line of poetry then, the nagging voice of the majority stomping in, “why allow such beautiful words go to waste on a poem nobody gives a rolling doughnut about?” That was all it took to make me change my mind and force a tune on the piece. I did write a few verses though, but I never quite got over trying to see how it would sound if it was sung and not recited. These few years have witnessed me read my poems aloud. Hearing yourself read your stanzas builds a kind of confidence within you that otherwise can’t be achieved anywhere else but there’s more as your writer’s voice begins to acquire an edge of authority. Writing poetry ought to be piecemeal if you know how to play with words. And piecemeal refers not to the value of the piece but the very act of writing the poem. I would suggest a preference of freeverse, take a deep interest in this form of poetry and you will be off to a good start. Freeverse sort of takes the lid off the rules. It adopts all the elements of poetry, yet you are not obliged to obey rules. Your writing doesn’t necessarily require a uniform metric flow. Metaphor, cadence, and a mastery of pun are vital to create a free form of verse, that’s almost all you will need. Rhyme is allowed but not demanded and you can make your stuff as long (or as short) as you choose. The rules are there are no rules. Lying, thinking Last night How to find my soul a home Where water is not thirsty And bread loaf is not stone I came up with one thing And I don’t believe I’m wrong That nobody, But nobody Can make it out here alone Alone, all alone Nobody, but nobody Can make it out here alone Alone (Maya Angelou) Forget about rules for a change and let the individual on the inside express him/herself through the written word. Sure, it’s a piece of cake. Let your pen keep bleeding! EnehHelpful Links: http://www.wikihow.com/Write-a-Poem http://www.wikihow.com/Become-Inspired-to-Write-Poetry http://www.directhit.com/ansres/How-to-Write-Rhyming-Poems.html http://www.ehow.com/how_2045041_write-poem.html http://www.writeanygenre.com/how-to-write-poems.html |
| Poetry is reflecting what you feel deep inside. Be it on paper or by verbal altercation, it’s as simple as that. Now, I’ve had people tell me, “Poetry isn’t my thing”. Or “No matter how hard I try I just can’t write poetry” and so on and so forth like that. Well, excuse me; I’ll have to disagree with you on that single point. Anybody and I mean just that, ANYBODY can write poetry if they put their heart to it. But not too much of their heart or they look like they taking a common entrance examination for the School of the Great By-and-By. Loosen up, buddy. You can’t write no poem with your muscles all tensed up. Relax. Now that we got that out of the way, I should add that we must come to the garden of verse with an understanding that mastery comes in varying shapes and sizes. And that’s exactly where many potential poets stand or fall. I’m using the word potential with the utmost care because you are either a poet or you’re not. The quality of your line of verse matters not as the fact that you write poetry. That’s all you need to be a poet. Write poems. When I was younger, I got myself worked up a lot because I believed a standard poem required a large dose of big vocabularies. You can’t blame the kid I was though. You should have seen my first collection of poetry books besides the Nursery Rhymes which I regarded as childish and substandard poetry. One of my favorite poetry texts was A Pageant of Longer Poems edited by E. W. Parker and that’s just one among numerous skull-cracking, mind-racking collections of poems by classical poets, in my personal possession. So, I grew up with a belief that was as staunch as it was childish that reading standard, acceptable verse ought to pay in migraine or at the least, a mild headache. Any poetry that missed that mark was low on the ratings, mine. From Milton’s Morning of Christ’s Nativity to Arnold’s Balder Dead, my young escapades took me through the works of my favorite classical poet, William Wordsworth. Here’s an excerpt from a personal favorite, Our birth is but a sleep and a forgetting: The Soul that rises with us, our life’s Star, Hath elsewhere its setting, And cometh from afar: Not in entire forgetfulness, And not in utter nakedness, But trailing clouds of glory do we come From God Who is our home: Heaven lies about us in our infancy! Intimations of Immortality (William Wordsworth) Can you imagine how easy it would be for a ten year old to get lost in between those few lines of verse? Lost and totally wrecked out my mind, such was my dilemma on the road to the mastery of verse. The years, like foam-tipped breakers have blessed me with a few gifted poets, men and women through whom I’ve gained my footing and a lot of stamina in the field of cadence. Maya Angelou (my favorite), Langston Hughes, Robert Frost, Audrey Lorde, Ezra Pound, Laurence Dunbar, Sylvia Plath and many more masters of the art. I’ve done my share of reading up on works attributed to these greats, did a little extra as a matter of fact, dug up the BGs (that’s short for Background) and worked the poetic interpretations with those. And I assure you it’s been non-stop pleasure. I’ll give my thoughts pause, presently. Next time, I’ll be sure to pick this up right where I left off. Until that time, read a lot and I mean A LOT of poems. Let your pen keep bleeding! EnehHelpful Links http://www.allpoetry.com http://www.famouspoetsandpoems.com http://www.poems.com http://www.poetry.com http://www.poemhunter.com http://www.americanpoems.com http://www.africanamericanpoems.com http://www.poetry.org http://www.writing.com |
| If I had to paint a picture . . . It would be a reality, ‘Cause it’s only what’s inside of my heart Color of Love (Billy Ocean) This, I think, is the second time in my blogging history that I will shoot off a post from lyrics of a song. Each of these times, I have a rare sense of fulfillment lifting words from two of my favorite artists through childhood years. The lyrics have opened a new way of seeing for me, one that appeals fiercely to the child within, the kid who heard those songs spun from records off the needles of his father’s Turntable long before the dawn of CDs. Billy’s, for one, is an album I promised myself, in those days when large, black flying saucers called records were the vogue, I’ll add to my personal collection when I got old enough to foot the bills. I think I made the grade. Not with a record though, but a ‘2 CD’ special edition produced by some Shandong Chinese company. That don’t mean it’s a pirated copy as any Nigerian would willingly bear witness. Now, on what I was saying before I interrupted myself. Billy’s song is a nod to the work of the imagination in fiction writing. Here’s a paraphrase of the last two lines in case I left you out there in the dark, “reality is only what’s inside of my heart”. There are some genuine curiosities here. Remember the time pictures never lied? Those days are now stowed faraway in the dark and water-clogged basement of history. No thanks to the computer and two thumbs up to you tube. In fiction, it’s still true that pictures don’t lie. Strips of film flickering on the walls of our mind are never false, no matter how weird they may appear. Ever since the first moments I glimpsed the Spanish artist’s biography on Wikipedia, I find it difficult to quit his quotes and thoughts entirely. This one sort of brings the subject home, Everything you can imagine is real. Pablo Picasso The Fiction Highway doesn’t take you down Beyond Reasonable Doubt Avenue, yet it gives on The-Truth-The Whole-Shebang-and-Nothing-But-The-Truth Intersection. I’ve never held much of a brief for reality, at least in my written work. All too often it (reality) is to the imagination what ash stakes are to vampires. Stephen King Realism smolders the flames of creativity. Common sense cripples our imaginative ability. If it is your dream to thrive in fiction writing, quit playing on reality’s team. To be sane, level-headed, practical and logical as it applies to fiction is suicide. Being realistic is to be short sighted, reality at best is a distraction. Good writing – good stories – are the imagination’s firing pin, and the purpose of the imagination, I believe, is to offer solace and shelter from situations and life-passages which would otherwise prove unendurable. Stephen King A universe without walls exists within the boundaries of the individual mind and the key to this excitingly new realm is imagination. That’s the tangent where the river (imagination) leaves Oklahoma (reality) and never looks back, not as much as a passing glances. All the strings of weird thought wired up to create an atmosphere that is way beyond what is generally accepted reality yet not less real and of course, wielding power and influence over the physical. The minute you sense those weird thoughts rowing downstream on the creeks of your mind, that’s your ticket. Take it. Run! And never look back. Where the Arkansas River leaves Oklahoma, it’s gone forever and never looks back. Don Williams Eneh |
| It’s not the nicest thing to wrap the scenes of a story around a bone of contention, or to build a plot on wrong impressions. Not if you want your close ones to buy into your story and this works on both levels we ain’t just talking cash, but if you want to preserve your friends, you better watch what your pen bleeds. Besides, there’s that nasty feeling stalking writing about family. Writing about friends and people closest to you sure makes you feel like a tell-tale. It’s a tough-blot-on-your-white kind of gossip and won’t be erased, especially if the page is printed. Write up bordering on personal experience has its demands and many writers make it a personal business to lay off such projects completely. Who wants to lay a life-long career on the line for a few squiggles? Beyond denial, some incidents are too delicate for the page, too sensitive to stray off the leaves of our private journals, if we find we have courage to record it there. If a writer does hold off publishing his thoughts, time heals better than the doctor, the characters involved may outgrow their pains and have healing of their emotions by time’s patient nursing. Then, he may write and not break a fragile heart by his craft. Admittedly, there are events witnessed by the author or in which he was a major character, the not-so-little-issues that if written, may not crack the softest of hearts if the story was a sledge hammer and the heart brittle clay. Yet, it may be a source of embarrassment to the key players in the drama of life. The author must find a method of expressing himself, working with strictest discipline, to present his story as a work of fiction. Messing with people’s feelings is a no bounce, no play zone and is best expressed in Churchill’s declaration, a joke is a serious thing. Injecting a dose of creativity into your piece might mean a world of difference. I believe if a character does not wish to be written about, he ought not to find him/herself on the pages of our notebooks or their personality traits tied to the unfolding of our storyline. Yet, I also think, and who says I can’t contradict myself, a writer has all liberty to explore his genius to the uttermost. Now, if you write about people you don’t know from a can of paint, it’s a different kettle of fish altogether. You don’t have any binding obligations to be discreet if the characters are begotten of the mind, yours matter-of-factly. If, all of a sudden, you find yourself in a rut in your role as a writer where your pen scrawls you across the No Trespassing line into other people’s private lives, I have a few tricks that will get you home and dry. Swindled from the masters by reading into the background of their stories, these tips will protect your real-life character’s privacy; preserve the kick in your scenes and of course, save your neck. It’s not the whole shebang though, you going to have to stalk me for the overdose. But these gems ought to suffice and set your quill straight. Change the names of your characters: Using names that cannot be traced to persons, dead or alive is one effective tool for evading embarrassing moments. On a personal level and in deference to people’s feelings, even if your story is not lifted from your immediate vicinity, make a personal resolution to avoid picking names for your characters that have association with local, real people around you. Unless, you know beyond a shadow of doubt that these people won’t take your pranks with a pinch of salt. If you cannot readily place their code of ethics, it’s best to stick with less known names and steer clear of the accusations and saber rattling. Online is a chest for a list of names to write a library, or you may create some of your own. Change the Genders: Trade sexes. The main character of the real life situation may be male, and to feature him in your adapted version as himself on gender basis, may not settle comfortably in significant stomachs. Being a lady might make your character more popular among the crowd so here’s what you do, change the genders of your story people to be acceptable to popular taste. Change the Scene of Your Story: Taking the setting of your story out of your locality adds a different twist to the entire project. Now, all you need is some background info about your new scenery and you are good. Switch Genres: Going for the obvious might wake the dead, drawing painful and better-forgotten memories to the fore. A little humor might be the missing link you seek. Your piece might work best as comedy (not satire) and not the horror novel the nature of inspired events may warrant. Do what needs to be done to keep your pen bleeding. This leads us to our next point, Twist Personality Traits: Should it be in there? This bit’s like ripping out a man’s closet and putting it out there on display for a couple of window shoppers to gawk at. Except by express permission of all concerned, I believe this is one piece of cake you don’t want to chew. This is the needle pricks that precede the canon shot! Don’t kill yourself writer, let sleeping private dogs lie. Twist glaring characteristics, or swap one character trait for another. Add some and take some away, especially ones your actors may not feel too proud to be associated with. If you delve into the deep of your character’s psyche, it’s best to create a new character from scratch and let him play the role of the real individual. What you need is the inspiration roused by the event and not the people involved. You would spare yourself much persecution, if you keep this tip at the back of your mind. A million years ago, I was privileged to read the story of a fellow who sued a lawnmower manufacturer. The charge? Our guy tried using his mower to clip his flowers, I thought those were strictly for the lawn, well, this bright sparks hurt himself in the process. He sued the manufacturer for neglecting to add in the user manual that the tool should not be used to trim garden plants! Did he win the case? I don’t know. What do you think? What I mean is you can’t be too careful with folks these days. Still, you must be true to your heart. And you can take a step further and fix the Publishers’ note at the beginning or the exit line of your stories. You know, the one which states, This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental. In effect, don’t take me too seriously. You may find for all your troubles, your story is still unpopular in some circles. Shouldn’t let that muddle your waters; you have done all that’s necessary and know better than drop your pen to waste time pointing fingers. Let your pen keep bleeding! Eneh{{/c} |
| I fell in love with the girl in the picture That I used to keep Carried her around in the back of my pocket She was always with me. . . “Girl in the Life Magazine” (Boyz II Men) Music is the voice that tells us that the human race is greater than it knows. Napoleon Bonaparte Don’t you just adore the power of pictures? I mean there’s Boyz II Men doing their thing alright but did you notice the last four words of the first line? Am I clear to you, now? See where they drew inspiration for the lyrics? Pictures . . . carry with them implicit narratives, making them ideal writing prompts for generating new short story ideas. http://www.about.com Not just short stories or novels, I just gave a striking illustration, music and poetry and any form of creative writing may help themselves to the eternal wellspring of pictures. When you see a childhood picture doesn’t it juggle your memory and stir a history of interred events in the tumble of your recollection? It is not healing to see your childhood picture but it helps you measure how much you changed and whether you are all you set out to become. One photograph can unplug a gush of emotion or spark a wave of inspiration. It’s best to rape the cataclysmic-variable-effect at its brightest, when a flash of fleeing imagination could transform your fictional universe from a silhouette into breathing reality. One could not pause the time with wishing, but he can trap it with the art of photography and the craft of painting. A library of books and poems, including screenplays has been triggered by images most recently, the 80 mil bestselling novel by Dan Drown. The Da Vinci Code was inspired by a portrait credited as the brain child of the Italian painter, Leonardo Piero Da Vinci (1452 – 1519). The novel got the entire controversial gist but yeah, it’s got the goods too. William Blake’s wax painting of The Red Dragon and the Woman Clothed with the Sun was the theme of another bestseller, this one by the loner author, Thomas Harris which he aptly titled, Red Dragon. A picture of Elvis Presley among other antiques inspired the Stephen King novel, Needful Things. Of course, the list is endless. Just added the last one to make a point, end of all arguments sort of. Scenes for twisted plots are not always easy to come by just leaning on our imaginative ability, that’s when photos present the best excuse for the creative mind. Having an image to always fall back on when you lose your footing in your story development can save you from taking a detour and running off in a wrong direction. A picture adds visual details to your fiction, gives it concrete feels that leap right out the page at you! Ever seen painters at work on canvases in progress standing on easels? If you have, have you ever considered the reality of what they were doing? Those portraits in progress, that the artists paint touchable stories on easels? You too can, in a similar way, as they paint their stories, write your portraits to life in your stories. As you do this you will come to grasp a picture’s worth and identify with the song writer as he saw his lyrics walk out of the pages of a magazine into his room, All of my friends used to laugh . . . Till the day when she came and she blew them away Asked me if I’ll be her man . . . And so the story ends well . . . “Girl in the Life Magazine” (Boyz II Men) And why not, the goal of every writer is to sculpt stories that are concrete, where the scenes come to life in his reader’s mind. If he achieves that one feat, the story, by all means ends well. Let your pen keep bleeding! EnehHelpful Links: http://picasaweb.google.com/lh/explore# Using Pictures as Writing Prompts -- Photos Make Great Writing Prompts http://www.flickr.com/explore/ http://www.artsconspiracy.com http://google.com/images |
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