It All Begins Tomorrow

…ominous titles aside, I’m starting something tomorrow, so that will be fun. Working on it will be a good way to end what has been a nastily rough week.

I’ve got way too much to do. I have a buttload of internship applications, catchup homework and this new project. I could cry. 

All-in-all, it’s been a very rough week. Coming out of it, though, at least I have something to look forward to. Creative world-wise, it gets me away from the one project that has been trapped in editing hell for three-going-on-four weeks. And it gives me what will either be a motivator to catch up and finish my work or what will be a whole other distraction.

Hopefully, we’ll be able to say it’s the former and not the latter.

Other things that I’m working on- two other writing projects both have first drafts that have been sitting for a short while that are ready to be revised. I’ve been told that the professor wants “bold” revisions on them, whether or not they go right or wrong. So that’ll be fun to work with. I like almost all the characters I’ve created so far, between Oliver Watterson, Arthur Cohn, Sarah Metis, Charlotte Haas, Johnny Stevenson and Emmy Gomez. I feel like Charlotte could definitely stand to be better developed, but for a first try, I’m actually rather happy with them.

The two stories, interestingly enough, are complete opposites to one another, and I think that one is weaker than the other as a result, but that’s alright.

At any rate, I’ve got some work to do, and I’ve got a post talking about these more in detail. So I’ll leave it here for now. See you all tomorrow!

Honest Poem – Retrospect

You remember a time
when the second hands moved too slowly
There was a time
when the bell could not have rung any later
And you loved the time
where you could run in the green grass
with a smile in your wind-tossed hair
and a song stuck on repeat.

She remembers a time
when she saw the most beautiful births
There was a time
when she saw your face dawn as the circuit clicked
And she loved the time
with the boat surfing the waves of your imagination
on the open sea, entirely free.

I remember the time
when this was all still real.
There was a time
when there were twenty different open doors
And I long for the time
when we could all choose one to walk through
Together.

A Pre-Midnight Update

Work on the paper continues apace. I’m officially at the halfway point of the paper (2 and a 1/2 pages out of 5).

Yes, I know, I’m a tortoise.

The few things that spur me forward are the plans I have for creative projects that I’m going to work on in the future. Not all of them will be shown to the public…

but goddamn, they’ll all be easier than this paper. 

As for specific blog updates- I might see if I can’t get an Honest Poem up tomorrow? If I can’t, I’ll probably talk about something that’s been on my mind recently that I’ve just been inwardly debating.

I really want to get a Flash Fiction written, but honestly, that’s going to have to wait until I’ve crashed after I finish this paper because cranking this out has been exhausting.

Have a lovely night, ladies and gents.

-D

Outlining vs. Going Unplanned (A Superhero Story)

The deadline for my second story is coming up and I haven’t written a lick of it yet. I’ve written plenty of ideas and basic premises and even character plans and world building….

And yet, I don’t know if I’m going to stick to any of it. I might just grab a vague notion of a protagonist and dive wildly off script.

It’s entirely unprecedented, as all of the fiction I’ve written since I restarted trying to master this genre has all been carefully planned out and everything has taken shape in my head. But not this time- this time I’ll be making it up as I go, jiving to the character’s beat, you know?

I know that recent, earlier attempts to write in this way have crashed and burned, but I think I have a voice to channel into a story, so we’ll see how well it goes.

The voice is also telling me something that I’m not sure is such a good idea.

This story? It’s going to be a superhero story.

Oh, joy. Personally, I think the entire genre’s getting a little tired but you know what? I’ll work with it. See if I can’t get anything fresh out of it- although I’m pretty sure the entire animals has been hollowed out and stuffed with a printer that makes money.

There are so many ways this could go wrong as all hell… but eh, what’s a life without a little bit of a risk.

I’m running late on a couple of things, so I’m afraid no flash fiction or honest poetry today unless inspiration strikes. Sorry about that!

(However, you can expect another post later today.)

Until then, folks!

-D

Honest Poem – Sunscreen

It smells like kindergarten.
warmth of a mother,
jubilant laughter as the sun
immerses but never burns.

It feels like melted butter
rubbed onto a frying pan before
hissing batter
snakes its way into a cake.

And you look at the child
reading about gingerbread boys
on that first day
tucked between two parents.

And you wish that they recognized you.

Honest Poem – Pudding

Cliff’s edge bites at my soles
I’m looking for some footing
trying to walk before I dance
Listen for the tick-tick of a clock
to give myself a chance

To steady, steady, thread the needle
to calm the storm, angry black clouds of
“You cannot leave us” and “How could you do this”.

Like a child’s arrhythmic toddle
towards the reassuring cool
of chocolate pudding, the sweet
and the smooth, I stumble towards
peace.

But then I remember what I deserve
And the smooth blankets become unforgiving stone
And the house becomes a cardboard box
And everyone is a specter- especially me.

The forest is no place for a child
Like I have no place in the crowd of
happy chatting people. I can run,
but the cliff will give way
to the gaping maw of my mistakes.

Promise Every Day

I will not be arrogant.

Everything that I am will go into supporting the people I love.

Everything that I am will go into every piece of work that I create.

I will be kind.

I will always put others before myself.

I will not look down on people or think them beneath me.

I will be brave.

I will starve my distractions.

I will feed my focus.

 

 

Evernote, To-Do Lists and Zelda’s Open World (in which I make too many references to explain something that’s really simple)

So, I generally use Evernote to write out a strict schedule for myself- I set goals for myself and I tell myself to achieve them.

Guess how well that works?

https://socialmediaweek.org/wp-content/blogs.dir/1/files/social-fail-940x492.jpg

Nooooooot well at all, as of late.

So change of pace- I’m using Evernote for to-do lists- giving myself objectives and not getting myself a regimen. Rather than a Super Mario “you have 500 seconds to get to the flag” approach, I’m doing a Zelda: Breath of the Wild “open world” approach where as long as the objective gets done at some finite and reasonable point, I’m a bit more free to move around the metaphorical cabin.

I’ll let you all know how that goes.

-D

 

Flash Fiction – Observers

(A/N: This is a very rough, very experimental draft. Descriptions of the child and the aliens are a bit sparing so you, the readers, can build your own images in your heads.)

Above the Earth, two entities reclined in their seats. One taller and thinner leaned back, almost indifferent, while the other, a face unlined with age, leaned forward, as if they were preparing to study what happens next. At the moment, their viewscreen was focusing on one house in an idyllic neighborhood like any other.

Right below them, a young child was trudging up the stairway. While their light feet did not stomp in any kind of angry march, their footsteps couldn’t sound any more heavier. As they finally scaled the staircase, they walked into their room and gently pushed the door closed. As the latch clicked quietly into place, they leaned the door and gently slid down. Holding their knees to their face, tears began streaming down their face, and they cried in earnest. Heaving sighs and wails of grief punctuated the silence of solitude.

The elder looked at his student and said, “Do you understand now, youngling? This is what it means to be human. Sooner or later, the inhabitants of this treacherous world will destroy each other and everything that they ever had. Even those with the purest of intentions will fall.”

“But sir, they were so happy before we interfered…”

“It does not matter- if we had not broken them, someone else would have.”

“You don’t know th-”

“Yes, yes. I do.” The elder’s voice grew steely, “But it’s far too late to show you now. Even I cannot reverse time, and show you all the heartbreak and horrors for this little… thing.” Composing himself, his blank, impassive face smoothed out, the creases of age thinning out. “It is clear that you do not yet understand, youngling. Come, and I shall show you another exa-”

“No.”

“No?”

“You can’t destroy any more lives just to prove a point.”

“Lives,” he scoffed, “These pathetically fragile, corruptible beings hardly count as lives. Their entire time on this mortal coil is barely a hundredth of ours. Their planet is insignificant compared to our smallest colony. They could never-”

“What does that matter? They are still beings like us.”

They couldn’t even begin to be like us.” He stood, grabbing the younger being out of his seat and tossing him to the ground. “And I’m going to show y-”

And that was when a *thwip* of a blaster reverberated through the old man’s body.

“No,” said the student, “Perhaps it is we who are more like them than you think.”