One writer's attempts to come to terms with real life.
Step 1: Sit at computer.
Step 2: Choose song. Set on repeat.
Step 3: Sip at drink liberally. (Repeat as needed.)
Step 4: Compulsively eat junk food.
Step 5: Poke around online. (This will take a while.)
Step 6: Open file.
Step 7: Stare at the blank space.
Step 8: Turn up music.
Step 9: Poke around online some more.
Step 10: Settle into chair properly.
Step 11: Rock back and forth to song.
Step 12: Write.
It's been eight days since I started on my script for the Frenzy, and I'm a little more than a quarter of the way through, having hit the 26 page mark a little after midnight on this fine evening.
And I still have homework to do.
So why am I blogging, you might ask? Because I wanted to share with you some things I have learned about me and my writing process over the course of these eight days:
- "Optimal" Writing time. I've noticed that I get the most done on this script when it is crazy late at night. Always. It might be the quiet, the reduction of distractions, delirium and lowering of my Crap-Writing-Inhibitor (more on that later), anything. But this time works for me. Sure I regret it in the morning, but it's worth it. So I suggest, if it works for you, trying to discover if you do a lot of your writing at a certain time, and taking note of that. Since I want to eventually write for a living, I need to break out of this mold (because God knows I don't want to spend the majority of my career staying up til 3am every night working) so my thought is that once I know (or think I know) that I work best at this certain time, I can start breaking away from that habit and expanding that block of time to 24/7.
- Caffeine addiction. Hand in hand with the staying up late, I have a nasty habit of wanting to drink something constantly when I'm writing for a longish period of time. I have no idea where this came from, but I first noticed it at home over winter break. My current drink of choice is Mtn Dew. Bad idea. Not only am I using up all my meal points, by the end of April I will probably be addicted to caffeine.
- Noise. Apparently I can write to any music/song if I listen to it enough times on repeat that it just becomes background noise. The music also helps me focus, though I did write a chunk of script a couple days ago in silence (mostly because I was so tired and single-minded that I didn't realize I wasn't listening to anything).
- I need to read more scripts. End of story.
- Outlining. OH MY GOD I am so glad I outlined this thing before I started. Seriously. I don't know that I would have even hit 10 pages, let alone 27. And I used to be of the school of thought that just dove right in and went for it. Which, let me tell you kids, is why I never finished any long-term projects. Lesson learned. Always outline.
- This is Crap. Okay. So I'm something of a perfectionist when I write. Or, I used to be. I have an extremely high standard for myself and others when it comes to writing. Which, again, is why I've never finished anything, particularly NaNoWriMo. Aside from the fact that I never outlined, got lazy and fell behind, I would always read over my work and constantly edit as I go. Hence, Crap-Writing-Inhibitor: the total and instant annihilation of all noticeably crap writing. Spoilers! This is not the way to do this. So this year with Script Frenzy, I decided to not give a damn about whether or not what I was putting to paper was any good. I love my idea, don't get me wrong. But this first draft is crap, and I know it, and I knew it would be. No delusions there. I can go over it again after this nonsense is done (and I probably will, because, again, I really love my idea). Reading and critiquing can come later. But this month I just need to write. And it's working so far.
And, lastly:
- The Internet is a Terrible Distraction. But you knew this already.
I've been very absent from this thing for a while now, I realize this. I tend to cycle my way through flurries of blog activity and much updating, and then long stretches of silence, which usually can be attributed to bouts of laziness, uninspiration, and being otherwise occupied with real life. And sometimes, I forget about this thing entirely.
But at long last I've been bitten with the writing bug again, and that goes for more than just blogging. I'll be doing Script Frenzy next month, which is the companion to NaNoWriMo in November. I already have an idea for my script and I'm really excited to get started. I've never written an entire script before, much less one that's a full-length movie, so this will be both tons of fun and tons of agony.
The other day I also delved into prose again with the writing of a tiny little fanfiction for my love, Doctor Who. It was nice. Fanfiction was such a huge part of my life for something like five years and, to be entirely honest with you, it got me through some pretty rough times. It was a great outlet, and I'm glad to have it back, though I'm all cobwebby and rusty.
And here's a secret: I'm also toying with the idea of writing a play in the near future as well, something I've never done before. But shhh. Don't tell anyone. ^^
So, for now, I've decided on a direction I want to take this blog: I'll be talking about my writing here, puzzling out details and ideas or just ranting about how stupid I feel because the words aren't flowing right, and maybe snippets of dialogue or poetry (because of course I'm still writing poetry) will find their way here too.
If that interests you, thank you! If not, well, you know the way out...
We were in the dark, I sitting, she lying in the relative silence though Glee quietly reminded my ear drums to not stop believing. She sneezed, signaling she was awake. The clock, though recently taken to playing tricks on me and resetting itself to random intervals, spelled out in primary colors that it was after twelve.
I asked how her night was. When she spoke, her voice was tinged with muffled congestion and a sort of weariness. I could relate.
'Boys are stupid.' I fell back on that time-honored response, trying to make her feel a little better.
She agreed.
She's up now, blind drawn, light from outside spilling over her side of the room. I suppose I could follow suit, feel the metal beads under my fingers as I rediscover the window hiding behind the white canvas flap, but for the moment I prefer the artificiality of my computer, lighting my face and arms and hands. The silhouette of the friendship bracelet I've been working on obscures the upper right corner of the screen, a braided and colorful reminder of summers already experienced.
It's quiet now, she's gone, and I rock back and forth in my chair as I breathe and think and wait and simply be.
She hangs up the phone with resignation and the false smile still pasted over aching lips.
Of course everything would be all right. Wouldn't it? It had to be.
"No, darling, they won't lock you up."
"No, darling, you're not crazy."
"Talk to your doctor. It'll be fine."
What she longs for the most is to say, "I'm scared. I don't understand."
What she longs for the most is to be held and for the trouble to seep quietly away, out of her body and into the ground, cleansed by fire and kisses.
She can't.
Fall's slanting golden light and thinly pure air is no match for dark circles cradling tired eyes.
But it can try. She would welcome that.
Last night I started breaking story for this episode of television I'm working on. It's not there yet, but I have arcs for the characters and I know where I want it to go.
It was hard work, but incredibly satisfying.
And sitting back against the wall with my eyes closed, thinking about things like A-story and B-story and act outs, it occurred to me that, hey, maybe I can do this.
Just like it occurred to me this weekend that I shouldn't be going to school here, I should be going to school in L.A. But that is for another time.
Now, I have to go to class.
Also, you guys, college is going to make me fat. The food here is suck. =(
So I haven't written prose in a while. And I opened a new Final Draft document but ended up running away, so I did this instead. It's rough and short, but after being blocked for a while... it's something. :)
"What are you doing?" she said.
"Nothing," he said, and picked up another stone to skip it across the stream.
The breeze ruffled through a nearby branch shaking a few leaves from their perch, fiery in their death.
She watched them flutter to the ground. "I've always wondered why leaves are prettiest when they die."
"Isn't that morbid?" he said, the stone agreeing with a wet plop as it sunk. "Damn."
"Your mother told you not to swear," she said automatically.
"You better not tattle."
"No, I won't. And no, it's not morbid."
"What's not?" He wasn't looking at her, instead examining yet another stone, this one flatter than the other.
"Thinking about the leaves, when they die. Think about it. They turn such pretty colors."
"Maybe they've got the right idea," he said, tossing the stone in his hand thoughtfully before chucking it into the water. It resounded with another plunk. He shrugged. "Going out in a blaze of glory and the like."
"What's that supposed to mean?" she said, now sitting beside him, legs dangling over the creek bed.
"Dunno. Heard it somewhere."
"Oh. Well, maybe."
They sat in silence for the rest of the afternoon.
I think I'm going to ramble.
So this weekend was Comic Con International! It's another one of those things that makes me love living here in San Diego. No hotel reservations to make, no flights or long long car drives... just carpool with friends and jump on the trolley. Though, to be honest, if I didn't live here I probably wouldn't go to the Con in the first place, because of the aforementioned travelly stuff to take care of. And I kind of suck at that sort of thing.
I don't really think I can sum up everything right now because it's just a huge swirl of sound and color and excitement and exhaustion in my head. And I love it. And it was awesome. I can't wait to do it again next year.
It's quiet right now, mostly because my little brother's away at camp for the week. I'm supposed to be writing him a letter, but I'm blogging instead. I'll get to the letter later.
That kinda rhymed. Ish.
I haven't written anything in a while. Well, a couple weeks ago I started a new script based on a prompt Matt gave me and I wrote the first page and a half. It's kind of gory and dark. I like it. But I haven't written much else because I don't have an ending yet. I think I do, but it's stewing and developing itself in the Maybe, as Russell T says. (I saw him today and it was awesome.) I keep coming back to this image of one of the characters, a man, smothering the other character, a woman, with this white handkerchief while she pleads with him. It's night, and in the middle of this cornfield, and all you can really make out are the blue-black silhouettes of their bodies and the lighter square of cotton handkerchief pressed against her face while she says over and over, "Please, I don't want to die anymore. Please."
Like I said. Dark.
Oh. Changing tacks, there's this random guy who a couple of weeks ago asked to be my friend on Facebook. I'm kind of a friend whore, so I'm like sure, why not. He's cool, a local; keeps mentioning the fact that he's married, so I don't think of him as very sketchy. Occasionally he'll comment on stuff, and it's fun to read. So today apropos of nothing, he writes on my wall and says "You are freaking awesome!" I'm like sweet, that's cool. Random, but cool. So I thank him and remark that I don't really know what inspired him to say that--maybe it was all the tweets/status updates from Con. His response (edited because he has questionable spelling and I'm OCD like that): "It wasn't any one thing, it's the nice little wave of just great and geeky things that make you awesome." And you know what? That really made me smile. Because it's nice to be recognized like that. Usually with most of my friends I just get weird looks or eyerolls when I geek out about something. But frak that. I like what I like and I watch what I watch and I read what I read, and if I love it enough I'm probably going to gush about it. And if that makes me a nerd or a geek or whatever, that's fine. That's more than fine. I have a friend from school who says that I bring out the geek in her. And sometimes she says it's embarrassing, but I tell her this: it's important to own it. Really truly own up to who you are and what you love. Because if you have nothing to be passionate about, or if you're embarrassed by your interests... what a craphole of a life. Seriously. That would really suck. So I'd rather be branded as a nerd (which I totally am, by the way, and I love it) than live like that.
And I think that's one of the more abstract reasons why I really really enjoyed Con this year. It was nice to see a ton of other people who were into the same stuff I was and weren't afraid to flaunt it. Power to you guys. See you next year.
(oh, hey, and read this poem, it's fantastic. go on... what are you waiting for?)
Today, I stood in the cold Spring rain; barefoot, glasses off, hair down in a tangled mess of not-caring. I breathed deeply as each stinging drop touched me, soaked my sagging jeans and old white t-shirt, my hair, my skin. I had no purpose except to be wet, to be outside, to watch the swirling grey mass of the clouds as they blurred in my imperfect vision. I had no purpose, but the longer I stood there pummeled by the rain I was swept away. Now, I have something, transient perhaps, gone in a hour, or several. But I remember the taste of it as the water brushed my lifted face, washed it away.
I can't remember the last time I've ever felt this pure.
(To be honest, the term used to confuse me. After finishing this, I'm rather enamored with the form.)
"Sunday Afternoon, 4:23 pm."
I drove to the beach by myself today, just to prove that I could, to see if the freedom I felt was really truth or fiction. Because, frankly, I'm getting sick of it dangling in my face, waiting, anticipation mirrored in a solitary breath til I could reach--but my fingers would only brush smoke, and I'd rock back on my knees and cry til I'm laughing.
I imagined what you would smell like, wondered if it would be anything like this, the scent of salt and sand and creatures living and thriving and rotting, all at once. Wondered if the touch of you on my face would be as warm and smooth as the breeze I breathed.
Wondered if the glare of reality would hurt like the sun on the waves, or harsher.
In the span of a little over a month, I have lost three goldfish (River, Kaylee, and Simon) and a dog (Sandi). The goldfish were only mildly disappointing, but Sandi... well, we've had her for a long time. So she was old, it was just... very unexpected. I just hope it was painless, poor thing. -sigh- Rest in peace, darling.
Long story short, my pets need to stop dying.
I have a week to finish my transfer app for Chapman. Whoever invented the Common App should be shot, is all I have to say about that.
I also have a short story due on Tuesday, and I still have no idea what to write about. It's kind of awful. But I think I work best under pressure when it comes to school assignments and things, so I'm hoping for something good in the twilight moments before my class on Tuesday. And by twilight moments, I mean Sunday and Monday. I'm not that crazy.
Lastly, I think I've stumbled upon something of an epiphany. Not anything huge, and I suppose it's pretty obvious, but sometimes it's the obvious things that are hardest to strike at.
"I honestly don't know why I feel such an obligation to make others happy, even people like E*** and B**** who are just so draining to talk to, but I'm trying. I suppose it's a whole work in progress thing. Start small and all. And I think a part of it with [my sister] is that I feel so helpless because I can't do anything, and it's eating me up. I generally don't appreciate feeling helpless, you know? But I guess it's just a matter of accepting things for how they are, and not trying to change them so desperately. Like beating your head against a wall hoping it moves at some point, I suppose. It's just kinda pointless in the long run and it hurts you really bad." - from an email I wrote to Morgan.
Like I said, obvious, but still pretty impressive, if I do say so myself.
Well, that's about it for this post. Hopefully, if all goes according to plan, the next post shall be much more entertaining. I just want to see how Maya pulls hers off, first. ^_^
Courtesy of Monty.
[...]
It never talks back.
It never throws a fit if you don't pay attention to it.
It's always there for you.
It's always there to get you through hard times.
It sees you for who you are.
It doesn't care if you're a boring person.
It doesn't care if you're a crazy person.
It doesn't care about your looks.
It's the perfect friend.
You never have to worry about saying the right thing to it.
There's never any reason to get nervous around it.
It's as simple as selecting a song.
It's also the perfect way to express how you feel to someone you love.
It's the perfect way to take out your aggression on someone you hate.
It's the perfect way to learn how to say the right thing.
It's the perfect way to learn how to trust someone again.
It's the perfect way to learn how to love someone again.
It's the perfect conversation.
It's the perfect way to find someone who will always be there for you.
It's the perfect way to find someone who sees you for who you are.
It's the perfect way to find someone who doesn't care about your looks.
It's the perfect way to stop yourself from talking back.
It's been there for everyone since as far back as we can remember.
It's done all these things for me, and more.
And I intend to keep it alive.
I'm not ready for the new year.
In other news, I started scripting a comic today. Weird, crazy stuff. Celtx is my savior.
Happy New Year to you and yours. I'll still be here, trying to figure things out.
I'm immensely pleased and surprised and happy to say that I've been chosen as the first featured teen writer on this intriguing website. The actual launch date isn't until the 1st of January, 2009, but the link to my blog is up, as well as some very interesting content. I recommend you check it out. :D
Read more...I was going to post something I wrote earlier that's one-hundred percent truth, yet presented as fiction (appropriate considering the name of my blog, no?), but it's a bit too personal and not very good, anyway. I guess I could talk about how, with the exception of two moments, I've not experienced any of this mystical holiday cheer that seems to well up this time of year; how I've grown to strongly dislike Christmas and the "holiday season" in general. But I want to talk about something else instead.
Last night, I watched a Buffy episode called "Hush" for the first time. I'm not entirely sure how many of you that read this are familiar with Buffy, but this episode is the epitome of creepy. Creepy, jump-and-grab-hold-of-the-person-sitting-next-to-you-and-try-not-to-whimper-in-fear sort of creepy. And heart-snatching monsters aside, what really freaked me out was the fact that it was silent. The basic premise of the episode is that, one day, an entire city wakes up unable to speak. And, to me, that is horrifying.
I've never really known what a deep-rooted fear this is for me. To be honest, I think it first hit me about a month ago, when my friend put his hand over my mouth as I was saying something. It was odd, not because it happened in the first place, but in the fact that it unsettled me so. You see, I'm the shy, quiet, keep-to-myself type, except with close friends. I'm independent, and generally don't work well in groups. I have a fear of public speaking. And I suppose you could say I'm a wall-flower, but I'm not too sure about that one anymore.
So it's in my nature to be quiet. It's not like I'm saying that silence is a bad thing, either. Silence can be quite comforting, given the appropriate circumstances. But the nice thing about silence is that it can be broken, that one can simply open one's mouth and speak, eradicating the silence, the quiet. We take this for granted, I think. It's a fact of life. Humans are social, highly-communicative animals, and as such, it's in our nature to make noise, to communicate our pleasures and displeasures, to say what's on our mind.
But there's a difference between choosing to be quiet, and having that choice be taken from you. Forcibly. And that is what I'm afraid of. Being unable to express myself, when I feel like it. To be silenced, not merely silent.
Just something for you to think about.
In the fog, everything is muffled.
Sense is dulled. There is no sight, nor smell, nor taste, nor hearing. There is only touch, smooth, glorious touch that reaches with curling tendrils to brush the skin of your face, your neck, your arms, your legs.
In the fog, we are alone.
Alone but for the swirling eddies that dance naked about our ankles, the white blackness that encompasses everything, touches everything.
Everything.
It's like an echo.
Silent.
Still.
If this doesn't tug on them, well......
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ChanTFSmqao
In other news, I'm about to hit 15,000 words for NaNo. :)
It's 1:30 am on November 1, 2008, an hour and a half into NaNo. And I only have 220 words. Bleh.
This is not looking good.
For some reason, I suddenly really, really adore writing fiction in the present tense. It's amazing.
Wrote two more stories today in class. I love that the words are just flowing. Good prep for NaNo, which starts in TWO DAYS. It's crazy to believe. Yet, this month, much less this week, has stretched out forever, so I'm glad it's almost over.
(Haha. I first typed "much" in that last sentence as "mush". Yeah. That's what my brain has become lately, mush...)
I'm very excited for this weekend. Very very very. Why? Well, I'll tell you. Tomorrow is Halloween, possibly one of my favorite holidays EVER. It's amazing and awesome and wonderful. I'm dressing as Sarah Palin this year (*wink*), and I get to hang out with a bunch of friends I never see anymore because they're all still in high school (haha) at a party that night. Perhaps I'll get around to posting a picture of my outfit come Saturday, if I'm not all NaNoed out. :)
I'm psyched for Saturday because my older cousin is having a PJ party/movie night at her house. I miss her a lot, (and her adorable little daughter, yay!) so, yeah, that's going to rock.
Aaaaand I'm looking forward to Sunday because Matt asked if I could hang out with him for the afternoon, and that's always fun. He's a strange kid, that one. ^_^
Hmm. What else, what else, what else....
I think that's about it for right now. Hasta luego!
You know, I'm not even sure I just used "ruminations" correctly. It sure sounds cool, though.
Yes. For the past... three days, I've been listening to nothing but Coldplay. Actually, that's a lie. But you get the idea.
More specifically, I've been listening to their latest album "Viva la Vida". It's lovely, it really is. I'm not sure exactly why I'm so attached to this album right now, but I can't get enough of it. In fact, I'm listening to it right now, right at this very moment as I am sitting at this computer consul in my school's very odd-looking library.
Seriously. You should see it. It's very odd.
Short story unit finally started today in my Creative Writing class. It was a bit disappointing, though, to start it off by showing up late for the first time since the semester started. I guess that's what happens when you're getting to bed after one in the morning after chatting online with certain people, only to find yourself suddenly wide-awake at 5:45 am. Then fighting to get back to sleep, only to have that take forever...
Ahem. Pardon my wandering thought processes, it's a recent occurrence that I'm not liking too much right now.
It was also a bit of a disappointment to walk into my class, only to look around and find that my new favorite person in class is absent for the third or fourth time in a row. I love this guy, seriously. He reminds me of a younger Remus Lupin (sorry... if you haven't read Harry Potter, you won't get what I'm talking about here) minus, you know, the werewolf thing. He's very quirky, and I'd love to get to know him better. *crosses fingers* Only, that doesn't work out so well if he's not in class.
Hmm. What else, what else...
Oh, yes. I wrote a short story today. Yes, you read that right: short story, not a fanfic. I'm rather proud of it, actually, despite the fact that half of it is taken from something that actually happened, and my professor said not to do non-fiction. Oh well. It's not like she's going to know that happened, anyway, so it's all good.
Also, I have to re-emphasize the fact that I believe the male gender is totally and completely whack. I think you'd agree with me if you had lived in my head for the past few days.
That's about it for now. Until next time, then...
"I remain, gentlemen, your obedient servant,
O.G."
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