If this Writespiration inspired you then jot a few words, a poem or a story and post below and I will post them with a link to your blog in next weeks post.
What is Love? By Sacha Black Continue reading
I have tried on a number of occasions to set lots of objectives for the new year, and generally speaking failed, or taken two years to complete them!
However, I am going to set some resolutions anyway.
1. Read a book a month (trying to read more non-fiction)
2. Give £5 to charity every month. I actually started this in November, donating to Movember, and then to NaNoWriMo in December.
3. Finish a first draft of my novel
4. Spend more quality time with the wife and kid.
5. Get to my goal size… (this is the hardest, chocolate addiction is a hard one to break)
What are your New Years resolutions?
I simply love this, so emotive, and instantly conjures loads of images. I posted this in my writing group, and we had a couple of really good responses.
What happens next? Why did the kid have the gun? What did they do? Did they shoot? Or was it just a threat? What led to this situation?
Let me know if this inspired you.
I am going to run a series of writing tips posts, and a series of writing inspiration posts. As an aspiring writer myself, I am constantly researching and reading other peoples blogs and tips, so I figured why not share the nuggets of wisdom I’ve found for all the other aspiring writers out there.
Scene Lists –
When drawing up your novel structure, something to think about is a scene list – akin to an outline – it helps to formalise the order and details of your scenes – in order. If you use a spreadsheet or table it also makes it super easy to rearrange them. Plus when you need to quickly remember your story – or certain aspects this sheet will provide an easy to read, easy to navigate summary for you.
Key things to include in your scene structure:
Theres a link here to nine famous authors scene charts.
I am attempting to take more time for me now that I am beginning to get some semblance of routine back into my life. With work just round the corner an the end of my maternity approaching, I am trying to think more about myself and where I want to go. I don’t want baby black to grow up with a miserable mother – just because I carried on doing a ‘job’ that pays the bills. I want to be a role model for him, to show him if you want something bad enough you can do it, you just have to work hard. So, now I have a fixed laptop, it is time to crack on with my writing course. Incase anyone else fancies themselves a writing course you can find it here.
So my first assignment, and piece of writing I had to do was a piece of descriptive writing. I thought I would share it with you. It was an observational piece, and we had to choose somewhere of interest and describe it. Feel free to comment if you like:
In the distance an aeroplane rumbled, and I strained to find the contrail jutting out of its rear. Unable to see it, I meandered down the twisted wisteria walkway instead. This was the aisle I was meant to walk down on my wedding day. Sighing, I stroked one of the baby branches arching over the walkway and was surprised to find it furry and covered in moss; my fingers tingled at its touch. Its elder looked down watching it grow, bark as wrinkly as a grandmothers.
The gravel crunched under my feet, as I continued down the path. I halted as I glimpsed a hint of the pillar-box red oriental bridge in the distance. Veering off the walkway I headed towards the bridge to stand at the edge of the lake, I heard the quacking of a pair of ducks paddling in the pond, and the roar of a waterfall pounded the jagged rocks surrounding it. Staring at the pool beneath the waterfall, I wondered whether mermaids lived in the murky midnight blue depths.
I stepped around the end of the walkway into a huge open space covered in a blanket of green grass. It felt like I was entering a magical world. A towering pagoda stood peacefully amongst the trees and boulders around it. If you listened hard enough you could almost hear the clip clop of geisha shoes, and the flapping of kimono fabric in the wind. Poised at my feet, stood a single flower flecked with pink ready to battle the first frosts of spring like a samurai preparing for war.
I inhaled deeply, and the sharp air cut my throat as it whipped my fringe into my glasses. I pulled my jacket tighter to protect myself from the chilly air and walked through the dewy grass towards the aged mansion at the top of the gardens. I placed my hands on the filigree garden gate, and shivered as the icy metal bit my fingers. A delicate spiders web quivered in the breeze lonely without its eight-legged owner. The stately gardens behind the gate were pruned to perfection, with chess shaped bushes and neat lines surrounding the majestic fountain centerpiece.
Springs first sunshine kissed the mansions sandy colored bricks. Terracotta turrets bulged out of the roof, and evergreen coloured ivy crept boldly up the walls. I walked away imagining wartime evacuees waving behind the mansions enormous square windows and running through the great rooms inside.
Like the TV advert, the wife and I decided to set up an email account for our newborn son to open on his 18th birthday. We will spend the next 18 years sending letters, photos and videos to him in secret, so that his life with us is chronicled. I thought you may like to read my first entry.
My Dearest A,
The thing is, we ask for advice even when we don’t really need it, don’t really want it and then, we don’t really follow it!
I have a bee in my bonnet about this because I annoy myself asking for advice.
Why do I do it?
I… Infact WE all already know the answer. Don’t we?
Should I go out tonight?
Even though your asking with a little wry smile you already know your going, so why do we bloody ask?
Should I eat a second bar of chocolate?
No Sach, of course you shouldn’t, because once you do, your guna be wracked with guilt over the calories you have guzzled, feel guilty, fat and then reach for a third bar to console yourself – why do I do it? I just shouldn’t ask because I already know the answer!
The real irritation I have with asking for advice is really, deep down, we’re all just looking for self justification. It’s kind of arrogant! We want everyone else to agree and justify what we want to do, even when we know it’s a bad idea.
Oh what should I do? – my (fictional) boyfriends cheated on me… again – should I take him back? I mean he is really sorry this time.
Why can’t we just be confident in our decisions? In what we already know we are going to do. Why do we pretend and deny that we haven’t made our minds up?! The moment I ask for advice I’ve already made my mind up. I know it, whoever I’m asking knows it too. Yet we both persist in dancing around the perpetual advice fence: you justify whatever course of action you really want to take, and the person giving advice rolls around the reasons why it’s a bad idea.
What’s the point? Waste of air.
AND…. Even when we do get advice we never bloody follow it! Humans are awful at following advice. We all give it, and even when we ask our dear friends what they would tell themselves, we still don’t follow it!
So – I decided –
Fuck advice, I already know what I want to do….
I have been searching for the right writing course for two years, the course to give me the right knowledge to finish my novel and kick start what I hope will be a writing career – my dream.
Why I thought to ask whether or not to do it I have no idea. I only got annoyed with what I heard, because really, all I wanted was confirmation I was doing the right thing, and who can actually give me that? No one but me!
Yes it’s 350 quid, but I can pay it over a few months, yes I have a newborn. But so what. Who do I actually need to justify it to?
Does having an infant mean my life goes on hold? That my dreams stop?No. More to the point, if I did put my life on hold, what kind of role model is that for my child? Do I want him to learn that you can be lazy and find excuses not to follow your dreams? Or do I want him to know that he has to work, hard, play hard and never give up….
So, I’ll ignore the pessimism, stop asking for advice and do it anyway. My money, my time, my choice.
I might be, covered in sick, soaked in pee, stinking of baby poop, slightly delirious, and temporarily daisy the milking cow, but that doesn’t mean I can’t follow my dreams…..
Even if I have to do it one handed, smelling of baby fluids and caked in puke. Failing that I’ll do it in the bath once the boys asleep!
Today was an historic day for British LGBT people.
Any piece of legislation in the UK must jump through several hoops before it gets passed into law. Including, several ‘readings’ in the house of commons, debating, reports and committee stages. It then has to go through the same process in the house of lords. Then back to the house of commons for a final run through any amendments, before getting passed up to our dear old queeny for signing into law.
I am over the moon to announce that the same sex marriage bill has successfully gone through the house of lords today. Which means – thats it…. it WILL be law. In a blink of an eye, Queeny will be passing it into law, and by 2014 I will be able to marry my wife!
We had a civil partnership last year and will be one of the hundreds of thousands of LGBT partnerships converting as soon as possible.
I went to a P!nk concert on Saturday, and took a few photos, I was gobsmacked at how close we got, I really expected (because we had standing tickets, and rocked up at 7 just as doors opened) to be right at the back somewhere. Obviously I didn’t want to be at the front because I didn’t want to get crushed whilst pregnant. But low and behold we managed to stand just a few people from the front of the stage. So close in fact that I could see the sweat drip off her beautiful face, and her incredible six pack! Not only did she sing continually for two hours, but she also did her usual unbelievable acrobatics and showed some impressive strength lifting a guy horizontally off the ground whilst singing!
It was basically a lez fest! I haven’t seen that many lesbians all crammed into one room since… well since pride! and in fact, we happened to casually bump into a whole bunch of lesbians that we knew!
Anyway, I thought I would share a photo, one of her flying around the entire stadium. I thought it was particularly arty, and I impressed myself because it was so moody and interesting. I hope you like it as much as me.
This is for artofstumbling, I love how she writes down her dreams some of them are fascinating, and seeing as I had a particularly bizarre one last night, and I don’t usually remember I thought I would write it down!
I am not quite sure if I was working in, or a patient, but I was in an insane asylum.
The walls were white, and there was a long corridor filled with white doors, at the end of the corridor was a circular room filled with doors, these were the bedrooms, and in the centre was a couple of sofas.
I was in the circular room with all the doors, and there were some doctors in long white coats standing with flip charts discussing patients, I stared at them for some time trying to over here what they were saying, but I couldn’t.
I heard a loud banging as a door ripped off its hinges. I turned round shocked, and the largest man I have ever seen lumbered out of his room. He must of been nearly 8ft tall. His body enormous, and cut with muscles so large he could easily crush my head in his hands. His skin was tanned and sweat was rolling down his biceps. I stepped to the side to allow him to pass, and he looked at me as he walked passed.
I don’t remember his face, just his enormous looming stature towering above me.
I watched him lumber his way down the long white corridor. He stopped turned to face me and nodded. Then disappeared up the corridor.
I could hear screaming and shouting coming from the frantic doctors behind me. I watched their slow motion moves throwing the clip boards in the air papers flying everywhere and running after the huge man.
Before they could run in front of me, I bolted down the corridor and skidded to a stop in front of the door the lumbering man had gone through. It opened into what looked like a big social room that was being turned into a modern church, rows of seats either side, tradesmen hunched over working on something on the floor. The towering man just stepped over their wide eyed stares and continued walking towards the blue door at the back of the room.
He smashed it open, and a wave of warm stuffy air filled the room. Outside was dark, but there were a few twinkling lights. He stepped outside.
I found myself looking back at the blue door from outside, there was a wooden balcony running all the way round the perimeter of the building. It was night, and we were in the desert.
The man ran off.
This part of my dream is hazy, but I know some time passed.
I found him in a seedy american motel, I think he was probably raping and torturing women, thats what it felt like he was doing, although I never caught him at it.
At this point a man, a doctor – the head of the asylum, walked in front of me and headed straight toward the rapist. I flittered between watching the doctor, and being the doctor. His words were my words, but I was watching him say them.
He spoke to the tall man, and calmed him down, convinced him that he needed to come back to the asylum,
“you need to come home son.”
The tall rapist nodded and walked back to the asylum with the doctor. It was daylight now, and I could feel how weary I was getting.
Suddenly, I was in a long narrow garden, with funny stone squares planted in the floor. The long garden was littered with green plants and pebbles. I was a the top of the garden with the doctor and another women, and behind us, was the army or some similar ‘authority’ the soldiers were dressed in army greens and holding shiny black weapons.
Infront of us was a low lying arch, the other end of which was the real world. Inside the arch were a couple of pills, and half a mannequin of the body and breasts of a pregnant women, but no arms or legs.
It was a rebirth canal. The patients who got better has to be reborn into the world to start their new lives.
The army people were questioning the doctor and a box of pills he was holding, they wanted them, wanted his secrets. But the doctor wouldn’t give them to them.
The doctor, now me, was explaining what the pills were, the garden was flooding but the army hadn’t noticed.
I threw the pills into the flooded arch to save them and watched them disappear. Chaos ensued and I woke up…