Humanity comes with the most complicated of decisions. Were not totally ruled by the animal kingdom law, it’s not the strongest against the weakest; although there are those who wish it was like that, their mostly uneducated, big, dumb and stupid.
We hold on to love and connection because deep down all the webs we have made, make us feel more than we are. We still have that moment where we look into the mirror, and you’re alone. Looking for inevitable truth in original words crafted by past ancestors, I’m a coward. I want to be a hero, but I can’t even help myself. It’s a un satisfying thought when it sinks in. The demon behind your eyes tells you your fears.
But I keep moving, these eyes haven’t seen everything yet. And I don’t care about material things. I’d give up this computer for a beautiful sunrise. A traveller, the world has so many adventures to be lived. And I’m blogging…
Through the Infinity of my soul,
And these eyes and what they have seen.
Let us not dwindle around the movement of Twilight
But remember where we have been.
The Future already decided,
Fates are entwined and true love is blinded.
My Fears are what drive me, now it feels
I drive fear.
This planet as ever reminds me of a prison,
Whilst the empty space of gleaming bright lights tease me with freedom.
It’s my breath, my wisdom, my truth to try
And pass down the system. Though I wish it was just over.
In the world, we breed; we pass down on our knowledge, our differences and similarities to our kin. We all sit with our heads in the sandbox at some point or another. Heads down to the fact the worlds turns again, decisions ripple round the earth changing landscapes, and we’re a too busy still fighting each other, I can’t even imagine what the world out there is really like, but I’ve seen eyes that do know. And those eyes tell stories.
The world made me this way, I say this lightly, no blame; I don’t have any time for blame anymore, for a long time. But the place itself, changing, often throws obstacles for us to overcome. We’re guests of this planet, the entire bunch of us. Choices made my own, and I can be grateful for that, the responsibility I have for my actions are my own, and that’s the same as the 6.8 billion others here too.
In truth don’t we have a responsiblity, to be an example to the rest of the world? We could be so much more.
I can hear the small voice in the back of my head creeping out, speaking in the voice of the people,
“You can’t help everyone” “People bring it on themselves” “I do my part” “no one helped me”
If I can hear them, you’ve heard them, somewhere along the line of this life you’ve come to a cross-road, your conscious has pushed you forward in another direction.
I often speak with, one of the homeless down by the local co-op; the shop doesn’t like him outside, and I’m sure the pedestrians find it awkward as a cash machine is just feet away from the lad. But I like it, I don’t presume to know all his dark secrets, but I see him.
He doesn’t have a hope in the world, I’m not sure what he can do really, he could head to the job centre, get accommodation, because he’s someone who really needs help, but regressed so far that he needs guidance all the way. Is that, what we’ve left behind? Our own people broken deep down there somewhere. Our hearts and souls pushed further down the consciousness piling reason upon reason again.
We all write stories, it’s in our blood to leave our mark on the world, a little more dignified through opinions and words rather than… well… marking your territory, after all were mammals.
Trace back your Facebook account to the day you opened it and you’ve got a personal record of your past thoughts, that and the infamous “What’s on your mind”, who you were talking then, how many friends may have come and gone. Read it back through and read your own novel.
It seems every time I make it two steps forward it always ends in me having taken four steps backwards. It’s always been this way; it’s not something I’m totally agreeing with. Were all born with something wrong with us after all? Just trying to make my own way, wasn’t blessed luck, I did not receive the big box, wrapped with a bow and a card saying “lots of luck” on top, I think I forgot to pick mine up. (Just saying, it doesn’t really bother me either because) I was given love, and everything and more than many others may have killed for. The love I did not always return in the way it should have been.
A lot of us, poor, coping, rich. All have it better than others somewhere else, and in all the most random of thoughts right now, I wish I was a musician, music can do all sorts of healing, and I’m sure in a mad max apocalyptic world we will all need good tunes to get us by. Even still now, I think we should use our gifts to change the world in our liking. In our hopes and desires, because in a hundred years, the world will be facing up to the choices we make now.
The first time we met, it was perfect. You knew what I wanted, and you could read my mind, you were simple then and I still loved you. Over time we grew apart, I never stopped caring for you, I just found that the world had a lot of adventures to be lived, anyway we recently found each other again, and the honeymoon period began, but as with all things we move back into a stalemate, I want something from you but before you can deliver you definitely need something from me… A real beginning.
Two scripts complete, minus one introduction. Four years ago when the idea for the story first popped into my head on some idyllic Thursday afternoon, I sat and wrote the beginning, The Tales of Emily.
Since then it evolved so much in my head and on paper. Over the years I mapped out and planned where each character would go, who would live and who would be lost.
Now finally when the time came, where I sat down, I looked at my notes, they were now four themselves, and had sat patiently awaiting hands to pick them up. I think my eyes closed and I carried on, painted the picture, now I hold in my hand two perfect scripts… I say perfect; taking into account a re-draft is needed they can’t be perfect, and also… I scrapped the original beginning.
Note to self: I DID WHAT?!
Now I’m starting to open my eyes, see where my character began, am I doing this or is something guiding me. To be honest it’s a simple scene where we our introduced to our protagonist, Emily. Wandering the gardens of her family home, thoughts and introductions to members of a family that we will soon never hear from again due the inconceivable issues that our dear Emily are about to face.
But finding balance in getting a hook into the readers and already knowing where the story is to go is a hard place to be today, it’s a world soon to be full of magic, gold dust, cities that are alive and the glorious Knights of Amsterdam. I’ve mapped it at around 3000 words, enough not to bore readers, but enough to keep them page turning because soon there’s a big surprise on the way.
Beginning again though is never easy, things have moved so far, can things ever be simple again?
Aiming to crack those words by midday, I already have another task to complete this afternoon, another beginning,
This actually more of a professional script, written using script writing software (We should all be “Ooooo-ing” in wonder, I certainly am. This though more comedic, more relaxing, a chance to hopefully stretch my brain muscles instead of straining them it’s looking like a whole day of writing ahead.
“Always waste time when you don’t have any, Time is not the boss of you.”
One weekend, one virus, one stupid text message and one regret.
Not bad for 48 hours. The weekend. Time spent away from the books, away from the computer trying to fit back into the world.
Such a bad idea, as I sit down to start “my world again”, my computer looks at me and looks away, as if it wasn’t good enough for the weekend, why is it good enough now.
My answer… Stop talking to the computer. So there I am, sitting facing a blank screen, as some note it’s their fear, that white screen. No story crafted, no picture seen.
To me, it’s enough of a push to get me going, a blank page is like jumping out of an airplane at 20,000ft. I wanna fly with my creations today, I want to lose myself in my stories, but alas not today. The world has turned, we have all moved on from remembering those lost. There are some that will never move on, and it pushes me to write something that matters today. To hunt through that muscle of a brain I have to pull something from that and make it into something pretty.
It’s Monday morning, 09.56am transitioned too 10.23am, I swear I only blinked.
On a general note:
I’ve noticed others have samples of short stories online on their blog. What do other writers think, is the blog a good place to sample your work.
It’s September already. I’ve known this for days. It doesn’t make it easier; it just makes it more frustrating. Achievements aren’t in the high, neither in the low; I’ve already met a number of very good people this year, a number I did not know before April.
I was completely a different person then, I feel actions, choices and decisions shaped the next few months and now something more determined stands in my shoes. I like it, and I like my shoes.
A drifter, in and out of lives quicker than a butterfly, that’s how I’d describe myself. I wonder how the old friends are; be a good communicator, with friends and family, that’s advice I’d give to you, keep in touch. I’m not great with that, but I do feel I take a piece with me, as I leave a piece with them. Months spent pushing me to something new, a hundred different possibilities laid out before me, how was to know which path to choose. There have been so many, and today there were hardly any. Not a problem, quite inviting, quite relaxing really when you’ve cleaned the house, changed the sheets, Hoovered the previous day away. You walk around the room, look at the laptop and look away. Nothing… You could job hunt I suppose……
I tried my hand at piano; I swear I played it once. Anyway, the keyboard wasn’t as familiar as this one. To many notes, and as I often got somewhere, frustration took the form of my other finger, one I was not paying attention too because I was all about harnessing Professor X’s mutant ability on the one pressing the keys, I knocked another key causing me to lose my concentration and have to start again. Safe to say, I got nowhere. Making it a point not to fall into the abyss today, I set myself a test to not write today, so instead I sat and played editor to myself a horrible habit, now script sits, 10,000 words complete, covered with Biro scars and flourescent tattoos, and ready for another beating on the word processor it’s going to love. So change is in the air again, clock is turning and our we have moved slightly around our star, Betelgeuse gets heavier in the constellation of Orion. And we all have decisions to make about our next move in challenge of life. It’s late, What’s happening tomorrow, what will a new dawn bring for each of us? Whatever you get dealt good luck with that. Go on through.
It’s September already. I’ve known this for days. It doesn’t make it easier; it just makes it more frustrating. Achievements aren’t in the high, neither in the low; I’ve already met a number of very good people this year, a number I did not know before April. April was a good month.
Where were you?
GEEK WARNING BELOW
On a further note: Surfing the internet i came accross this little pic. I love The Tardis, and had allways wondered what it looked like… you know when it isnt a blue box, the imagination didnt do it justice. So sorry geek moment.
If fate doesn’t exist, and everything is random, saying that alternate universes also don’t exist, and everything is this universe is what we know, then our world is a very plain one; put aside all the human differences we have between each other, from business meetings over oil prices, damaged hearts and broken countries. After two thousand years, you’d simply think we’d be able to get along better. I’d think it be all about finding the answers about where were going, finding an equal balance where we could all live and share the benefits, everything in retrospect is so small and tiny and insignificant in the larger role anyway. Money only exists because we say it does.
But that’s a different post altogether I write this whilst talking to a friend currently studying at a Shaolin school, is it school? A temple anyway in Zhengzhou, China, we’re talking about ghosts, spirit guides, the world turning.
It got me thinking, those Meta universes, tiny ultra small universes, ultra cool universes, and alternate universes, all exist out in words in the world and in our heads because people, us, you me and we, created them. The human imagination is magnificent, creating and destroying every day physically and mentally, writers painting universes in their own minds, these characters growing voices, is it in our nature simply to create, give life, the biblical saying states “we were made in his image”, we create our characters in ours, they represent our fears or strengths, say the things sometimes we don’t have a voice to say.
I was raised never to question the darker things really, (curiosity killed the cat sort of thing), and too many rants on religion or the bizarre more or less ended up resulting in awkward silences. Still grown up and occasionally a conversation heads the way of the weird and unknown. Talks of ghosts and things we can’t really explain still raise hairs the back of necks and it’s all just speculation.
We’ve all had the feeling of something in the corner of your eye as BBC Ones Doctor Who often relies on to tell its darker stories, the presence around us when were alone in the dark, eyes on us when we’re sure no one’s watching.
Stories are by the many on bookshelf’s, and online, the infamous horror section , from big names in fiction, to the “true stories online”, my personal favourite being about the Ouija spirit ZoZo, a terrifying demonic spirit who resides in the netherworld.
(I was going to post a link, but I would rather not endorse any usage of such things, for your own mental well-being and the fact that your friends might start alienating you because you’ve become a nut, plus if you go looking for something you’re sure to find it).
The shorter abridged version being it was visited by the devil himself and left in ruins haunted by a young girl. (Yeah right!?!)
Closer to home, Penmere Station is supposedly haunted by eerie music and two Victorian children on the train track that apparently beckon you down the grassy track. Something right out of a Poe story and for Cornwall and Devon and that’s just the beginning, the entire area is peppered with local haunts and eerie hot spots. Safe to say I have never seen anything yet, cautiously touching the wooden chest next to me already succumbing to superstition.
Is the search for the unknown just a way of trying to make up something were lacking in our inner consciousness, we all deep down must have some desire to understand what makes us tick.
Anything scares me, anything scares anyone but really after all considering how dangerous everything is nothing is really very frightening.
Do we believe in these tales so we hold on to some semblance that if the “out of this world” exits, then the beyond exists? If I believe in ghosts am I suppose to believe in Angels, I suppose science has ways of seeing things the naked eyes cannot see, reality TV is full of ghost hunters watching the echoes of the past, and maybe it’s time to get in on the action.
So I’m considering putting together a team, my own Scooby gang if you will, “The Debunkers”. It could be good research for a book, searching high and low, for something tangible, not to mess or interfere with spirits, but to seek out the truth behind the legend, where it began, those who were left behind the story, who told the story. I may even start with the above few, to be sure if I were to uptake a project I would do with the up most care. As I already said if you go looking for it, you’re sure to find it.
I’m just looking for an adventure, to laugh in the face of fear, are there any left to be had?
Today was a writer’s block convention for me. No invite needed, I just turned up, the space was my own mind, and I was the only one attending, waiting to hear some aspiring words, Unfortunately, I realised, that wasn’t happening, not today. Spending most of the day reading blogs instead of thinking of writing one, today’s’ entry is entirely personal and simply based on the necessity to write and, to push on and keep my focus, without it, today would have been a complete waste.
No muse and no magical calling to change the world fell in my lap today so I forced myself through a final scene on a project I’m working on. Something that’s been in my mind for a quite a while yet still found it extremely hard to get out of the brain, it wasn’t a matter of the words, I just found myself adding and over adding, definitely over thinking too much because the characters needed it, deserved it, had evolved, It’s nice to know others find the same problems. Today even music hardly helped, it stopped my thinking which was unusual. Maybe it was my questionable choice in music, stumbling upon Damien Rice’s playlist on YouTube, how do artists earn money through YouTube…? Anyway, as entertaining and as beautiful as “volcano” is, it still stunted me then pushed me on.
Anyway breaking through with the final scene of my project I hope to send out into the world one day, I decided to dissect and re approach, started a fresh canvas if you will, I found the approach helpful as with clean sheet I managed to fill with the emotion and character dialogue I needed to get across the story, I ended up breaking the story in the early evening and finishing the section I’ve been working on at just over 5000 words, which to me, means revisions need to be made, however as it’s only a second part out of three sections I’m hoping to complete by the end of the week I’m beginning to see scenes of an unnecessary burn out, remember, don’t work too hard, the brain will explode.
Spending the rest of the day searching literary agents in the United Kingdom and abroad, which seemed interesting as I prepare to send other works out, looking forward to framing the rejection letters, as it hopefully means one acceptance is on the way. As for the next couple of days, I look forward to completing theses final drafts and storing them away for a week or so to muster dust for a while before revision starts and I carry on my search for an ideal situation.
Look forward to the return of the heavy thoughts. Cause I’m thinking.
Last year I was lucky enough to visit Malaysia and Langkawi.
From someone who has frequently traveled to Thailand I was expecting more of the same, safe to say that was just my ignorance, travelling into Kuala Lumpa by coach I got to see the landscape that surrounded the city, surrounded by palm trees, the same ones scoured for their oil grew in the thousands as the city loomed in the distance, on arriving in the city I discovered the different side to asia, the multi cultural asia.
Kuala Lumpa being famous for its landmark The Petronas Towers measuring at an impressive 451.9 m (1,483 ft) I was still shocked by the sheer size of it.
The Hotel Impiana, had this impressive decoration hanging in the lobby, where as the hotel corridors took on an eerie quality under this orange light.
After 24 hours in Kuala Lumpa we flew off to Langkawi’s main island for a break from the city life. Famous for its legends full of Vampires and curses maybe most famous of all is the Telaga Tujuh Waterfalls which is believed can help women become fertile.
Langkawi which roughly translates Reddish Brown Eagle is surrounded with wildlife, from the famous brown eagles (Brahminy Kite Haliastur indus), to beach monkeys which covered the road too and from the resort waiting to steal your food.
The monkeys (Macaque) above weren’t so interested in us as we ventured back and forth, more interested in what we were going to drop, the locals advising us to show our teeth if they became to aggressive. Though thankfully none got aggressive, I did though manage to accidentally scare a baby whilst focusing my camera on it.
The photos are many, but winding down, I was often confronted by theses nasty looking alien creatures jumping down from trees… ( I truly had no idea what these were, except giant mangos, but I still don’t think so.)
I also had the opportunity to catch donkey from Sherk playing around in the sky.
Dont you think? No?
Anyway the rest of the holiday was spent relaxing, and discovering what Langkawi had to offer, which what was exactly needed. This little pier you could book out for special evenings for two, with a private waiter included, but we were happy to make do at the local restaurant instead.
A traditional Malayan Rogan Josh
And a fantastic Club Sandwich, one of which im off, to attempt making now.
People always ask, how I come up with ideas, or they have ideas and find it hard to get them onto paper and quiz me on that, I find more and more that I don’t have an answer.
Getting ideas down on paper, I don’t seem to have this struggle, I write as I’m currently surrounded by loose papers and note books. I like to write over a wide range of topics, probably not the best idea when trying to find work in this field.
Stephen King said once when asked about how he comes up his ideas. With a number of horror stories under his belt, he replied that he can’t choose what his mind thinks, that we each have a sort of filter in our heads in which the thoughts drain through, and some things just stick. I like this analogy.
Sometime the thoughts are dark, deeply personal; completely fantasy or I just feel the story should be told. A lot of the time an idea can be crafted easily, noted and drafted, but to get a finished piece it takes perseverance, locking myself away with an iPod works best, but time needs to be spent, nothing gets crafted over night. Music has its influence so much that the mind starts unfolding, creating lives out of nothing, crafting a universe full of wonders; I find myself making a playlist of some truly odd tunes from Philip Glass to something heavier, but alas this isn’t about my offensive taste in music.
To me it’s simply think, and go, but apparently I’m lucky, I’m not saying the well doesn’t occasionally dry out, but ideas to me come thick and fast, seeing through on them now that’s different. Sometimes inspiration comes in the form of a person, a Muse if you will, but they usually too dry up so don’t overuse them.
Its only recently I’ve found the drive to push through sit down and craft work to its full potential. All I can say is start how you want to start, if its just parts of dialogue that’s fine, you could even start at the end, work your way through, like a puzzle, the story may naturally unfold in front of you.
Of course everyone wants to make a living out of writing but luck only happens to few or otherwise it wouldn’t be luck. I believe each story should be told, should be available to read, the dream is to be noticed but isn’t everyone’s, (except obviously those of you who don’t want to be noticed) so you too don’t expect millions from a story, all I hope is that in words you touch people, after all its all about connection.
And to those around Plymouth, Devon and surrounding area
Moving away from thoughts, as a friend said, thinking is bad.
Searching through my phone today struggling to find storage for all the nonsense apps I seem to download and never use, I stumbled upon my phone’s media storage, and got lost searching through photos of days past.
I remember this shot below, the first and only attempt so far at scuba diving. The view was more impressive.
Some Recent Meals down at the Meze Grill Plymouth, a generous helping of whitebait and squid, followed by some Mains, in the form of traditional lamb skewers and a t-bone steak.
Whilst this little beauty was served up at Steak & Omlette when I just popped into to say “hey” to an old friend.