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 [Read more…] about Writespiration #32
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,