Wednesday, August 12, 2015

Advice on Writing

The problem I have with advice, especially writing advice is that it usually is something that I think at the time makes a lot of sense, but when it comes to actually writing, generally I find that the "rules" by which I am supposed to be constrained to, do not work for me.  I get that often my writing could be better if it were a little more concise, or less wordy anyways.  Often though that is the tone of the character, and to trim them too much would disrupt their voice.  I only hope that what I write will be enjoyable to the readers, and sometimes I do not even care about that.

Funny how sometimes I write because I know that other people will read it, and sometimes I write only because I want to have this other voice.  I do not know if one mood is better than the other, but I do know that at the end of the day, it is really quite the same, for me anyways.

For me writing is like breathing, I do it because that is what I do, though it is not always done well, sometimes I am gasping for air, and it seems like I am writing for all the wrong reasons, and sometimes it seems like I am breathing the cleanest air there is, and it is all flowing like water through a old growth forest, pristine and clear.  Then there are the times when I do not even know I am breathing, and the words flow like someone else is moving my fingers, or the pen, whatever the method, sometimes it feels like I am not even here.  I like it best when I wake up from the dream, and what I have written seems new even to me.


Top 10 Fantasy Writing Tips From 'Game Of Thrones' Author George R.R. Martin | Lifehacker Australia

Top 10 Fantasy Writing Tips From 'Game Of Thrones' Author George R.R. Martin | Lifehacker Australia:

'via Blog this'

I have never read any of his books, but this is some of the best advice I have read in many years.  Most writers that give advice just talk about the need for character development, to show don't tell, and the other standards of fiction writing.  George R.R. Martin presents a very lively format of the same advice, that is provided with good examples, and just enough wit to make it readable, without sounding pretentious.

I may have to actually read some of his work, though it is unlikely I will ever watch the show.



Sunday, August 09, 2015

B&PSM: Eight, maybe, or was it Seven

Bits and Pieces of a Shattered Mind

This is a bit from a work I am working on, that hides very little, and is not meant to be accurate, but just what is left of my works that have been waiting all these years.  So do not take it personal, it is as the title states bits and pieces of a Shattered Mind.

Sometime around the age of eight or so, maybe a little sooner, I met a kid from California, he lived next door to the house of my babysitters house.  Well I did not really get along well with other kids, but this kid was different at least and that was something.  I was what you might call an introvert, and my babysitter Elsie used to have to force me to go outside.  Not because I did not like the outside, two reasons really.  On the other side of the kid from California lived a family, and they had a couple of children that were just a little older than us, and they liked to do mean things to people, especially little kids.  So that was about our connection, comrades against the local bully.  Well they didn’t pick on me too much, because Elsie was a stern woman, though not really to me, and the one time they did, they found out who my brother was, and never did again.  So that left Larry as the sole focus of their frustration, and I figured I could relate to him.  Most of the time I spent my time there listening to the radio, because Elsie let us, and she had three or four children of her own that were near my age, and they listened to the radio too, so we listened to the radio, and I would write.  My sister was there too some of the times, and she got along alright with Elsie’s children, especially a couple of the girls who liked the same boys and rock stars.  Our parents both worked, and for whatever reason, we could not be left at the house alone.

So Larry had a birthday party, and he invited me, as well as a bunch of his other friends, who were children of his mother’s friends, so I did not know them.  We had the obligatory cake and ice cream, and one of the children got sick, so the others went home, after we rushed through the presents.  For whatever reason, someone gave Larry a snow shovel, children sized, and he loved it very much.  We were making piles of snow one day with it and it broke, and he was very upset, and I just could not figure him out, so I let him run to his mother.  She came out and talked to me, saying I owed him a new shovel, and all that, but I could not buy a shovel, and she said she would talk to my mother.  We went over to Elsie’s house, she talked to Elsie, and Elsie made me go back with her, tell Larry I was sorry for breaking his shovel, and that I would get him a new one.  I did these things, and he never said thank you, and we never spoke again until many years later.

This is but a passage, and it may not mean what you think it does, but let it mean what it may, for that is the point, it is broken, and only you know how that will affect you.