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 Well, not so much fun and leisure as...get some damn writing done, you fool! |
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A while ago, I attended a writers' workshop and the lady who hosted it told us all to go away with this bit of advice - to write for just ten minutes a day. I was determined to go ahead with it and I did...for two days. So today I remembered that I'd resolved to do so and I whipped out my journal and wrote for fifteen minutes. I'm typing out pretty much the same thing that I wrote earlier, with some differences. I find I can go a lot more in-depth when I'm typing than when I'm writing by hand. Writing by hand is such a chore! I've struggled with loneliness a lot throughout my twenty-nine years. I struggled with it when I was the only one home with my mum when I was a teen and everybody else had other places to be. I struggled with it after marriage and when we moved into our own house for the first time. I struggled with it after my son was born and I felt torn between pursuing my writing and being a good mum, because my culture seems to indicate that a woman has absolutely no chance of living her own life - or at least, she has no chance of attaining any goals she hasn't already attained - once she has children. I feel it occasionally still, even though I get so little time to myself nowadays that any alone time is simply awesome. I've tried to come to terms with the idea that being alone isn't a bad thing - and a lot of the time, it isn't. My friends don't live nearby so I don't get to see them often, and even when I do, I feel like there isn't much depth to our conversations. I'm surrounded by people who do not think like me, who do not share any of my interests and hobbies. I feel like I've become desensitised to isolation. Loneliness is my preferred way to be. I walked into my college cafeteria at lunch today and it was the usual hubbub of activity. Youngsters walking around, chatting animatedly, shouting across the room, laughing, eating, socialising. I could recall how that clamour wouldn't have bothered me ten-twelve years ago, when I would have been one of the youngsters talking excitedly with her friends. But, as this moment, I just found an out-of-the-way little table and sat down. I watched the crowds for a while, wondering why it was only at moments like these that the sense of isolation became so strong. In the middle of a crowd, I feel most alone. |
| 09:23 Before I wrote the chapter summary yesterday, a wrote a hefty entry which I ended up losing after some phone data troubles and I was short on time last night so I didn't attempt to recall the lost information. I'll try to recall what I wrote now. I was looking for a name for the piece. I don't usually name my stories right off the bat, unless I have a really good idea of what the title should be. Usually, story documents are titled as the main character's name followed by the word "Novel" or "Story". Simply inspiring! I don't stress about names, although I would like to have a good title. I am quite intrigued by the concept of naming a story after the villain, though. Not "Blujarmin", but something more obscure. Like..."Tay Kerov Wourldz". And you wouldn't know it was about the villain until you get some backstory late in the game and suddenly you're like "So it's named after the villain!"  I'll leave off "Tay Kerov Wourldz" though lol. "The Chaos that Calls"? "Chaos Calls"? I shall have to think on it more. I suppose I could try and write out the last chapter, just so I have a clear idea of what I'm working towards. I don't like writing final chapters first. It then feels like I have to aim for that for the rest of the story and it kind of takes the fun out of writing and discovering. Plus, with the characters always evolving, the first impression of them will not be accurate. In addition, a climax means having some idea of what's happening and I don't. At all. Even with a summary, I don't quite get how it all goes down. But, oh well. Let's give it a shot. I understand this might be a bit long so feel free to skip. --- Final Chapter: There was a commotion outside the throne room, where Settia was seeing his subjects and noting their concerns. The Royal Guards were positioned around the large chamber but immediately moved to stand in front of the door. The people cowered, falling into silence as the clamour outside grew. "...would be very kind of you if you could sort out the problem, Majesty." a peasant man was saying as he knelt before the throne. "The farms have been ransacked several times now. The little thieves just take what they want!" Settia cleared his throat. The peasant looked up. "I think it would be wise if you could step to the side." He nodded towards the doors. The peasant only then seemed to note the silence in the chamber and the noise outside. He scampered away, head bowed. The doors burst open. Several armoured men were thrown backwards, along with some of the Royal Guards from outside the chamber. They sailed above the red carpet and came to land a few paces before Settia's throne. Settia got to his feet. Guards flocked to protect him as he descended the steps. "You should run, sire." the head of the guard, Barbane, said. He bore scratches on his helm and a trail of blood was dripping from the bottom of it, onto his silver armour. "We don't know what this thing is. It's...It's unlike anything we've ever faced before." Settia kept his gaze trained on the space between the doors, where guards were still being flung about as if they weighed nothing. Screams could be heard from them, along with groans of pain. The floor was awash with the blood of men who were sacrificing themselves for his sake. "Get me the sword." he said through gritted teeth. "It seems Hunter has arrived earlier than we agreed." Indeed, as the number of broken and mangled bodies decreased, he saw Hunter standing in the doorway. But it was only Hunter's shell. The Seal of Barkone etched upon Settia's chest tingled, irritating his skin. He scratched at it. It was moving. Blujarmin might as well be loose. The Seal seemed worthless, when the Nothingness could just possess whoever it wanted and use them as a puppet. This wasn't the plan, Hunter, he thought, as someone handed him his sword. Couldn't you have held out a little longer? I had a plan. A plan that was only halfway through completion. He glanced down at the sword in his hand. It had been crafted with a slit in the middle and embedded in that slit, there was a clear tube filled with red liquid. His blood. If his blood was what was needed to keep Blujarmin in his prison, then he would strike down whatever Blujarmin used to escape. But it wasn't finished. It was supposed to link to a new prison, fuelled by the blood of tens of potential Holders for the Seal of Barkone, to diminish whatever possibility Blujarmin had of escaping within the next few centuries. He didn't think it would work but he would try. Hunter kicked the last guard out of his way and turned to Settia, a mad grin stretching his lips too wide, almost ear to ear. There was no hint of the green of his eyes, so much like the colour of Settia's own eyes, but instead lifeless blackness stared out at the Emperor. "You shouldn't have chosen him as your vessel," Settia said, lifting his sword. Although it was impossible to tell where exactly those black eyes were looking, he got the feeling the thing was staring at the sword. The grin abated a tiny bit. "I saw in him potential," Blujarmin said, stalking forward over the blood-stained red carpet. "Lots of anger and malice. Directed at you, you who took from him the very reason for his existence." "So you thought you could do with him as you willed?" "Of course. None would miss one such as Hunter Svolteria." "You were wrong." Settia charged. [Cue long and unnecessarily drawn out battle] Settia fell to his knees, the sword sliding from his fingers. "Hunter..." The darkness cleared from Hunter's eyes. He seemed to take a while to get his bearings. He took in the half-destroyed throne room, the debris and the bodies littering the floor, and finally looked down at Settia. "...What...What happened?" he croaked, dropping his sword and kneeling beside his friend. "Sett, what happened?" "He's...free," Settia had to struggle to push the words out. The Seal was writhing on his chest. He couldn't see it but he could feel the lines of it shifting and forming new shapes, anticipating the ending of his life, when the lines would form the pattern that would unlock Blujarmin's prison. Hunter shook his head. "No, that can't be right. You...You had a plan, right? You were going to defeat him and...and we'd all get through this! Come on, Sett! Father chose you over me because you were stronger, because you'd do a better job than me!" Settia managed a quick quirk of the lips which looked more like a grimace than a smile. "He chose me only because I could carry the Seal, broth..." His breathing became more laboured. His eyes glazed over. "Sett? No. you can't just go like this! S-Sett!" Hunter's voice cracked. "I'm sorry! I'm sorry I was such a sore loser! This is all my fault!" He knelt with his head in his hands. "I'm so sorry...!" "If you are truly sorry, perhaps there is something you can do." a voice said behind him. He sat up. "Father?" "Although I do think you could have been stronger and given us a bit more time, I also understand that Blujarmin would have just chosen someone else to act on his behalf if you had not been available." The former Emperor navigated the debris littering the floor and made his way to his son. He gazed down at Settia's inert form and sighed, closing his eyes and muttering a prayer. "The Seal is no longer necessary." he said when he opened his eyes again. "The Emperor is dead. With regard to your previous position as the crown prince, you are now Emperor. Congratulations, son. Your dream has come true. Now get up and save your dominion." --- Whew! I didn't actually take me two+ hours to write - I just took a really long break in-between. These things can get hard! And boring -_- I did not like it. I felt it was too cliched and predictable...or not? But it's the first run and things will definitely change as I go along. Also, I know there are probably a million typos but I cannot be bothered going back over it to check right now. I feel drained, and it isn't even noon yet! 11:32 ** Images For Use By Upgraded+ Only ** ** Images For Use By Upgraded+ Only ** |
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