[guitarczar]

Ok, so this is on my writing blog too, but I promised another creative writing essay, and I hope this delivers Ok. At least as good as Digiorno. Anyway, you can skip the first paragraph if you'd like, I usually start out my literary exercises with a false start, and then get into the race. Enjoy:

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You know, the interesting thing about reading a writer is that you can learn alot about him through the way he writes. You can see his insecurities, you can see his beliefs, you can see the tendecies that he has. It's almost like you're reading his personal journal, as if his heart-felt thoughts would appear on the page if you only squinted and turned your head a little. That's very interesting to me. Currently I'm writing a book called "The Age of the Warders." Originally, there was no love story, heck no female characters in the whole work. Which I think points to my insecurities with women...though maybe to my credit, or maybe the novels, I've been thinking about adding a love story with the main character. Anyway, I haven't decided if I'm going to put up passages from my story here (paranoid about plagarism), but the next time you're reading a book, look at the lines on the page. And then look between the lines. And then turn it over, and keep rotating it, and if you have the proper dexterity, you'll see the author's face. That said. Done.



Well, this post wouldn't really be done unless it evidenced some literary prowess. So at the risk of being late for work, I'll postpone the minutes of sleep I could be getting and trade them in for some inspiration. It's funny, did you ever think writing could be forced? Most people, educated or not, would say no. But I would say yes. Because it's not the kind of force that people are expecting. It's not forcing a good idea, it's forcing yourself to sit down and write. True, you won't always find that vein of gold, but more often then not, you'll strike silver. Hell, copper would be good enough to get you a regular job as a Hallmark card writer. So this post isn't about anything in particular, just the act of picking up the pick axe and asking yourself if you're willing to land the first blow. See, the mountain will always be there, cold, stony, always with the perfect posture. It will always be awaiting a new adventurer, both reckless and hesitant. Who knows how it will reward them? I've seen both. Is it better to die in a landslide with rare minerals in your hand or leave in frustration because the creek refuses to offer up anything to sift through besides quartz and river bottom. Either way, I hope you play a ditty like that twinkled-eyed man in White Fang when it's over...Coming Around the Mountain while bullets are approaching you eight times slower than the speed of light, but eight times faster than your body can handle. So go ahead, pour the kerosene on those musk-scented shingles and see if you don't provoke the fury of half-man, half-beast to hurtle through the window and upset the solar system. Trinity did it and it got her three movies. The moon does it, but the last seventy-seven times have resulted in an eclipse...man does it, but he'd have to forgive his dead brother more than that, and live with the fact that his shovel killed and buried the life-blood of another who could have made his life better. It's a sad thing...and pall bearers have too many uses...so don't let them carry you to the saloon. It'll be fun, it'll be spun off as a jolly good time, while you look through the window and wince at the eagle in his erie, envying his perch on the mountain of solidarity. Some stay there. Some don't come home. Some do, and spout off madness and mysteries as if they have a quota to meet. But that's only for enforcement, for your betterment and protection, because if they saw you wear the same badge of honor they'd have to strip theirs off in shame. And no one likes a quitter...maybe that's why we can't slow down in society. Nobody likes to be perfect either, but everybody wants it...though that might be incomprehensible to some. Go ahead and be King Midas, see if you enjoy your dog as a statue, and your house as a magnificent recluse, allowing no one to live there in comfort. See if you enjoy your own food...it'll make a pretty portrait, but don't touch it...unless you have an affinity for etchings. Then come back and feel life and blood, feel the dead remains of the flowers wilting upon that young man's grave. Lay down, with a respectable distance for sacrelige and feel the ants feeling their way up your leg, brushing your follicles and sending waves and breakers up your nervous system. Go outside where it's hot, eat a summer treat and feel the stickiness on your hands and upper arms, mingled with the irritation and the heigtened sense of anticipation of running over to the faucet and washing it all off. Sit on your bench in the back yard, and if you don't have one, built one like Noah did and watch the procession...ducks on the river, apples on trees, hawks in the sky, groundhogs scuffling underground and coming up at the epicenter...where tree roots equal safe havens and everthing is congruent with that fresh, new feeling you get when you go somewhere new. Please live, please die, and do it with many breaths...ten that are prepatory, fifteen that are short, and five that are as jagged as the peak you are ascending. Leave Myrtle's Toilet for fairy tales and those who brood over the same stoires they have always told, realizing the minute weight of them. And for goodness sakes, go to bed. At least once in a while. Not anticlimactic, but prudential, realizing the reality of tasks that lay unprepared by your own hand, and your own bed.

He is a writer, he is a great one. He is a writer, he lies dormant. So when people are climbing over the rough terrain of your inaction and shredding their soles in anticipation, release, and give their feet a treatment that not even white coals in the Middle East could beat. Even volcanoes need to sleep. And even lava needs to breathe.

And please tell me your thoughts on these, in less than incendiary ease.

[+Donny]

On first glance, this one I could follow and I felt like you were communicating something much better than the first one I read. I'll have to take another look, though, since I got lost somewhere in the middle, and given how late it is, another read-through isn't going to help too much. But good job; there's more direction to this one.

[guitarczar]

Originally Posted by +Donny

On first glance, this one I could follow and I felt like you were communicating something much better than the first one I read. I'll have to take another look, though, since I got lost somewhere in the middle, and given how late it is, another read-through isn't going to help too much. But good job; there's more direction to this one.

Well hey, that's a start, right? Thanks for the read.

[+Donny]

Okay, I read it a second time, and took into account the first paragraph a bit more (seeing the writer's face in the writing), and then the first section of the bulk of it (a writer just forcing himself to sit down and write) and it went much, much better. Before I knew it, you had stopped talking about writing and were giving me advice on how to live; that was excellent. There were a few rough transitions and rough images, which tend to snap me out of the trance. Make sure everything is very smooth and flowing. If you can do that, you will bring the reader seemlessly from a fairly basic point to some other objective, which is really valuable, and downright impressive. Work on it more, but I really like what you could do with this style.

[guitarczar]

Originally Posted by +Donny

Okay, I read it a second time, and took into account the first paragraph a bit more (seeing the writer's face in the writing), and then the first section of the bulk of it (a writer just forcing himself to sit down and write) and it went much, much better. Before I knew it, you had stopped talking about writing and were giving me advice on how to live; that was excellent. There were a few rough transitions and rough images, which tend to snap me out of the trance. Make sure everything is very smooth and flowing. If you can do that, you will bring the reader seemlessly from a fairly basic point to some other objective, which is really valuable, and downright impressive. Work on it more, but I really like what you could do with this style.

Thanks. Maybe you could point out the trouble spots? This is technically a rough draft, I banged it out in about twenty minutes. So I can see spots that need tightening. But I'm curious what you think could use improvement.

[+Donny]

The ones that struck me most were the Matrix reference (it felt random), White Fang (I wasn't ready at all for something like that, and I don't know the movie/book well), and King Midas seemed a bit abrupt. I'm not sure I can really give you much more specific advice than smooth it out. The style is supposed to be stream-of-consciousness and feel random, yet there are legitimate connections, and that's what makes it flow well. Keep that it mind.

[guitarczar]

Originally Posted by +Donny

The ones that struck me most were the Matrix reference (it felt random), White Fang (I wasn't ready at all for something like that, and I don't know the movie/book well), and King Midas seemed a bit abrupt. I'm not sure I can really give you much more specific advice than smooth it out. The style is supposed to be stream-of-consciousness and feel random, yet there are legitimate connections, and that's what makes it flow well. Keep that it mind.

Yeah...I could see how if you had never seen White Fang, it wouldn't make sense at all (as it is, the 'twinkle-eyed' man and the boy who the wolf loves are inside a cabin, being shot at by these western ruffians, and the man keeps playing "Coming around the mountain" on his mouth fiddle to annoy them. Then the bad guys set the house on fire and the wolf jumps through the window). The Trinity reference was just that she jumped through a window much like White Fang did (but yeah, kind of random). King Midas was suppose to be playing on perfection (and the whole gold/silver/copper theme), saying that his idea of perfection wasn't livable and was actually awful and it's better just to climb the mountain of inspiration, not worry if every is cut and dry and all the logical ends are neatly tucked away, and just FEEL...which is why the later part of the essay focuses on sensory things. Anyway, I agree with you, this could use a revision, and I think I'll give it a go sometime. I need to get back into the habit of revising, it's been more like revising while I'm actually writing, as opposed to giving myself space and then looking at it again.