Here's an interesting post from Wil Wheaton on the experience of being a rookie writer.
I think I might have to put Scalzi's blog on the blogroll, as I haven't yet. I only ever read the odd post.
Now it's back to mulching thoughts and sentences into a coherent essay in between bouts of playing D&D Tiny Adventures on Facebook!
On the subject of the call of different worlds, here is a post from my very first blog. And yes, it's awful, but this was six years/16 years ago, before I really fell to the writing bug and began taking it seriously:
( 9.8.02 ) Ally
Oh well. Don't you just hate it when something happens and you all of a sudden pick something up you started ten years ago with the new revived vigour of 'I *must* do this to prove to myself I am not worthless'? Well, if you don't I surely do. Cos that's just what has happened to me.
I was reading a short story the other night, and it hit something in that stupid grey mass called a brain that caused me to think the 'Hey, I can do this, and I've had this idea for the last ten years that I just haven't expanded on'. So, I went and dug out this old, battered, orange envelope folder that housed the beginnings of a world in the making. There were ideas for characters, creatures, and the vague inkling of a story. So, biting off more than I could chew, I've been sat round for the last day trying to work out how I could make this thing work, but getting nowhere as fast as dead dog. Hmph. Thing is, I know if I put my mind to it, I could probably get something out of it, but I just feel so dejected and apathetic at the mo. Anyways, here's a little bit of something I wrote for this story ten years ago, lemme know what you think.....
Once again, alien dialogue caressed her tongue, stimulating her glands to taste it's utterance.
Savouring the unspoken words, Altharien mastered her fear-strangled vocal chords to delight the parched air with the haunting ululation that danced in her throat. Unaware that she was now on her feet Altharien stood over the trickling lines of water facing the black trees. Directing her voice, she versed the unknown chant to the trees.
As she sang, the words took on ghostly forms in the air before her. The inch tall, brown and green firefly words cavorted and pirouetted gracefully to the trees. Embracing the wood, their fire burned brightly before fusing with the blackened bark. Gradually the words faded from Althariens song, each one taking shape and skipping to the refuge of the trees. She stood watching, quietly contemplating the dance of the fireflies.
For months now I have had a block where it came to story writing. On very few occasions something would click and I would have a lightbulb moment, though these occasions have been sparse. But last night, while the combat about attitudes to gladiators and how in the hell am I going to write this essay fought away in my head, and as I watched BBC's Worlds of Fantasy programme, my Muse appeared and slapped me in my creative face with a wet kipper.
Okay, so I have been able to hash out a few poems, but for stories, short or otherwise, my Muse has been giving me the bird. I've obviously not been letting it play enough. So, last night, to grab my attention, it put my brain through the wringer. Ideas started flowing for two of the novel length stories I have been stuck on with the possibility for some deeper characterisation for one of them. Not only that, but a short story that has been floating just out of reach, shone brightly with the full plot outline scribbled in super-shiny letters so I couldn't ignore it.
Why now? Not that I am complaining, but why now? I am too caught up in researching gladiators and the colosseum to take the time out to write my stories. I have had to compromise by writing the ideas for the novels down, and by making a loose outline of the short story. At least now I know my brain hasn't completely dried up!
Also, this is a very interesting article about living as a creative type called "1,000 True Fans" by Kevin Kelly. Check it out, it makes for some very thought-provoking reading.
It’s been a quiet few days, really. Spent some time with my friend Kayte, twas nice. We took Principessa to the bookshop, and Auntie Lindsay came along too. After browsing the books, we trundled up in the lift to Starbucks. Principessa gets very upset if we don’t go for a drink. After all, looking at books is thirsty work!
Well, we found a table, ordered out stuff, got ourselves settled, and then I spent the whole time watching a bloke at another table. No, I wasn’t perving! All I can say is JK Rowling and creative writing courses have a lot to answer for! There he was, his drinks (three of them, in varying colours) all lined up alongside his laptop. He was trying to be inconspicuous but he was so obvious as he looked around, his gaze lingering on a person here, a person there. I was so tempted to roll over to him and ask him what he was writing about. Maybe I should have. Well, more power to him. I know I couldn’t concentrate doing something like that in Starbucks, the music is just slightly too loud.
Principessa is doing a lot of drawing and scribbling lately. She was sat at her table yesterday with her Uncle Gaz perched on the second seat (that looked crazy!) having scribbling races. Then, as she always does, she starts asking for specific pictures to be drawn. Yesterday it was volcanoes. So, Uncle Gaz draws a volcano, telling Principessa what he is drawing.
“And that is your pyroclastic flow,” says Uncle Gaz. “Can you say ‘pyroclastic flow’?”
“Pirate-clastic flow,” says Principessa.
Genius!
I have fallen foul of the perils of Ebay. Okay, so I bought some clothes for Principessa, but I also found myself browsing and bidding on a load of Lobo comics. I loves the Lobo comics! I couldn’t help myself. They were there, and the titles needed replacing in my collection as the originals had been pinched. So yay, but oh so naughty!
