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Creative Writing Prompt
Feb. 1st, 2009 02:41 pmThis assignment was to pick a shape/element/trope of fiction and write a story based on it. I chose A Day in the Life, which consists of not necessarily a day, but a very specified time period and write what transpires in that time period. Here is mine.
I should be at 10,000 words by now.
Nov. 6th, 2008 11:20 pmI know I am way behind on my NaNo goal, but I am writing regularly and fairly steadily. This is good. Today, for instance, was my highest word count so far, at 1250 words. Considering the fact that I haven't written any fiction longer than 1000 words in a couple years, this is a big deal.
3482 / 50000 words. 7% done!
An Introduction
Sep. 11th, 2008 11:16 amI don't exactly understand why, but my last assignment for my Intro to Lit class was to write an open letter to the class, describing my career as a writer thus far in my life. Below the cut is my letter.
( Dear Class, )
( Dear Class, )
Idea: Do NOT Forget.
Jun. 18th, 2008 07:26 pmI'm thinking of a setting for a story. Take this quote from Milton Friedman: "Only a crisis... produces real change. When that crisis occurs, the actions that are taken depend on the ideas that are lying around." and add it to the the word "religion," from the Latin religio, meaning "bind together." Religion binds people, forming communities. Then, add an apocalyptic event. What this equals is a world where everything is wiped out and the ideas lying around will be these small doomsday cults, bound together by their cult leaders. They will multiply. They will go from being a small minority to a vast majority. I'm thinking this could make a very scary place.
The little voice always speaks the truth.
Apr. 12th, 2007 09:52 pmHe was staring out the window while he waited, focused on nothing, when the thought came unbidden, in a quiet voice so unlike his own. It said, "I wonder what my life would have been like if I wasn't so full of fear, if I wasn't raised to be so afraid." The thought shook him awake, brought him back from wherever he'd been and he immediately tried to dismiss it because though he wouldn't admit it, it was true and it scared him.
Lately, I've been terrified of writing.
Not necessarily in this journal, but I mean big writing projects. Novels, short stories, et cetera that I've got floating around in my head. I've got so many ideas; I don't even know how to pick which one to start with. They're all ambitious projects and probably above my talents to birth anyway. (In a way, I'm a typical man; I have no problem with the conception, that's the easy part. It's the giving birth part that intimidates me.)
This fear assails me in particular when I'm reading a writer who is much better than I think I am, and lately, I've been reading some really great writers who have spooked me into some dark corner of literary oblivion.
Take that and mix it evenly with the anxious anticipations that one gets when one is about to dive into some great unknown; the hesitation before skydiving (How do you feel about jumping out of a perfectly good airplane?), social nervousness before a party, the first day at a new job, the damned interview for that matter. The reluctance to leap into the cold, cold lake.
Writing for me is like that. It is not some skill that I've learned and writing just flows out of some creative faucet, some verbose light switch I can just flick on. Writing is like a dialogue for me, between me and my unconscious, the collective and my battered and bruised ego that would like to assert his bastard opinions everywhere, but overly criticizes everything. (Mostly, the rest of the crew get together to bind and gag him until the session is over.)
Once I'm in, it's great. With few problems, I can write and write and write, but lately I've been fearing that initial hurdle. I'm struggling with how to say something deep and profound without losing my humor, to write a hilarious book without being to shallow, to write what I know without knowing anything.
I'm going to make time this week to write and just jump in. I'm sure I'll get used to the cold and soon I'll feel warm and accomplished.
Not necessarily in this journal, but I mean big writing projects. Novels, short stories, et cetera that I've got floating around in my head. I've got so many ideas; I don't even know how to pick which one to start with. They're all ambitious projects and probably above my talents to birth anyway. (In a way, I'm a typical man; I have no problem with the conception, that's the easy part. It's the giving birth part that intimidates me.)
This fear assails me in particular when I'm reading a writer who is much better than I think I am, and lately, I've been reading some really great writers who have spooked me into some dark corner of literary oblivion.
Take that and mix it evenly with the anxious anticipations that one gets when one is about to dive into some great unknown; the hesitation before skydiving (How do you feel about jumping out of a perfectly good airplane?), social nervousness before a party, the first day at a new job, the damned interview for that matter. The reluctance to leap into the cold, cold lake.
Writing for me is like that. It is not some skill that I've learned and writing just flows out of some creative faucet, some verbose light switch I can just flick on. Writing is like a dialogue for me, between me and my unconscious, the collective and my battered and bruised ego that would like to assert his bastard opinions everywhere, but overly criticizes everything. (Mostly, the rest of the crew get together to bind and gag him until the session is over.)
Once I'm in, it's great. With few problems, I can write and write and write, but lately I've been fearing that initial hurdle. I'm struggling with how to say something deep and profound without losing my humor, to write a hilarious book without being to shallow, to write what I know without knowing anything.
I'm going to make time this week to write and just jump in. I'm sure I'll get used to the cold and soon I'll feel warm and accomplished.
"I must not fear. Fear is the mind-killer. Fear is the little-death that brings total obliteration. I will face my fear... And when it is gone past I will turn the inner eye to see its path. When the fear is gone there will be nothing. Only I will remain."~Frank Herbert
