Words on Writing and Creating Creativity

Writing. It seems so easy when you feel creativity flowing right through you, and there are words swirling around inside you that need to be written. There are times when you have to stop whatever it is you're doing and let those words pour right out of you onto the paper. There are times when you start writing and cannot stop. You write things that don't make sense, and things that never made sense until now. Every emotion you've ever felt is depicted clear as crystal. You don't have to think. You just write.

And then... There are times when you need to write, so you sit down with pen and paper, or word document and keyboard. You sit anxiously waiting for something to come forth. And nothing does. Your mind is blank, and so remains your paper. What do you do during those times? How do you create creativity?

William Carlos Williams writes "prose has to do with the fact of an emotion; poetry has to do with the dynamisation of emotion into a separate form. This is the force of imagination."

How do you get your imagination going? Is it all based on emotion? Must I be feeling something to be writing something? Williams also writes that "nature is the hint to composition." We have the ability to create something new based on the most simple thing that we have witnessed. So how can the imagination run dry? It can't. You  just have to get out there and witness one small thing and create something wonderful from it.

My balloon boy story...

Most of the time, when I get an idea for a story, I sit down and crank out several pages. It just isn't working for me this time. I don't want to trash this story yet because I have a lot of ideas for it. I know what kind of story I want it to be, I've got my character down, and the plot figured out, I don't know how to form it all together just yet. A friend from college once told me about these books that he used to read. He said that the author wrote out notes and bullet points of his character development/plot. Maybe I'll do that. Go back to the drawing board. It's all just filler from there. Right?

Stuck Already

The goal of the 52 writing prompts is to start and finish one prompt a week. I've started this one about a boy with a balloon, and I'm already stuck. The week is over, and I haven't finished. I don't see an issue with taking my time with it, as long as I keep on writing something. This story has got me thinking about where creative inspiration comes from.

When I played  a lot of video games, I created/wrote stories about my characters. Now, I'm working in the mental health field, and my character in the balloon story is seeing a therapist. I haven't quite fleshed out his back story, and that's where I'm stuck.

I finished up my Zine today. I put all of the pages together, and it's ready to send out to my sister. I tried to take pictures of it, but it didn't work very well. I guess you don't get to read it after all. That's okay because I'll finish up my balloon story and post it up here.

New Stories

I found a free ebook with 52 writing prompts in it. I'm on my second week.

My first story is a zine - something my sister wanted me to try out. The history of zine's are quite interesting, but it's basically just a self-made small magazine. My content is a story that I wrote. My prompt was "botched alien abduction." I then went through all of the magazines I have and pulled/cut out pictures or words that I wanted to use. After that, I formed my story. I have yet to put it together, but once I do, I'd like to take pictures and post it up here. I really wanted this story to be silly and stupid. I think I got it just right.

Today's prompt is a black and white picture of a boy holding balloons. It's titled "A Boy and His Balloons."  I some how connected this with the things I see on the job. The story starts out with the main character talking to his therapist. I really have no idea where this story is going, but I've made a few notes in my journal.

I'm really excited to re-start with writing. Stay tuned to hear more about what I'm writing :-)


p.s. if you want the free ebook, you can find it at www.renegadeword.com

Journalist story (Part 1)

If crude language offends you, read no further. Here is a story that I wrote back in college for my creative writing class. I'm posting this in parts, so if you want to know what happens, you'll have to come back next week. As I'm posting this one, I'll be writing another story for your personal entertainment.

I woke up in a cold dark cell; it was dirty and gross. I could feel dried mud on my arms, legs, and face-- pretty much anything that wasn’t covered by clothes. I had a splitting headache and no idea why I was here.  “Ugh. I could really go for a hot cup of tea right now, and a warm bath,” I said, not even thinking that anyone was around except for the pacing guard who was currently on the other side of the hallway.

“Well you ain’t gettin’ any of that in here sweetheart,”

I could hardly see the man that was in the cell with me, but I could see that he was fat and had chains around his ankles. His voice was rough and cracked like he hadn’t had anything to drink in a while. I wished he would lick his lips or move his tongue around in his mouth to salivate before he had spoken.

“Why would they put a man and a woman in a cell together? I thought there was some kind of law or something about that?”

“Ain’t no laws here honey, they do as they please. Ain’t nothn you can do about it. Afraid I’m gonna hurt ya? Don’t be scared sweetheart. I’m chained down good and tight.”

“Where the fuck are we?”

“Mexico’s finest prison,”

“A prison? How the hell did I get here? Man I’ve gotta get out,”

“You ain’t goin nowhere sweetheart; they keep you here on their terms. Ain’t no one broke outta here in a long time,”

“Well today’s your lucky day because I’m getting out of here, and so are you,”

“Ah, that’s sweet of you honey, but why d’ya  rekon’ I’m gettn outta here too?”
“Because, you are going to get the guard’s attention and when he comes to check on you, I’m going to knock his sorry ass out,”

“Anything for you sweetheart,” he said, half annoyed, “what do I need to do?”

“First of all, don’t get any ideas. After we get out of here, we have to go in separate directions. I’ve got things to do. I was sent here on a mission,”

“They must have hit you hard when they captured you honey cause you don’t make a lick of sense. Sent here on a mission psh who do you think you are?”

“I’m a journalist for a newspaper, but that’s none of your business. Now be on your toes because when that guard comes back you are going to double over, hold your stomach and start groaning. Make as big of a scene as you can,” I took the rest of the water that was in a bowl set out for me to drink and threw it under him. I wasn’t going to drink it anyways, there was barely any there, and it looked gross, “there, it’s dark enough in here that he’ll think its blood. I’ll freak out and tell him something is wrong with you, when he comes in to check I’ll knock him out and we’ll be free.”

“I can’t be on my toes seeing as how I’m chained to the wall darlin’ but I’ll give it a shot.”

“Shh. Here he comes, go.”

“Marrrggggghh”

“Aaah!” I screamed as daintily as possible, “oh my god you’ve got to help him, he’s bleeding all over the place. Please hurry. Oh my god, what’s wrong with him?”

The guard ran to our cell, pulled out a ring of keys, and quickly opened the door. He came in and the fat man was still groaning like an idiot, I couldn’t believe this worked. When the guard took a close look at the fat man, I kicked him in the head. He fell over unconscious.

“We haven’t got much time, he’ll regain consciousness soon,” I said, rummaging through his pockets. I found a roll of cash, a knife, and a canteen filled with some kind of alcohol. I grabbed the keys, unlocked the chains around the fat man’s ankles. I handed him the keys, a little bit of money, and the canteen.

“Here, don’t spend it all in one place. It was nice knowing you, thanks for your help,” I said as I ran off with the rest of the loot.

The next guard I came across was sitting on a wooden stool. He was asleep, easy target. I quietly enclosed the distance between us. I hit a rock with my foot which woke him up. Before he could call out I slashed his throat. Blood oozed out of his neck as his head fell forward. I grabbed his keys just in case I needed them. He didn’t have as much cash as the last guard, but I pocketed what he had anyways with another knife and ammo for the gun that was strapped to my back.

This place was like a maze. I finally found my way out after killing a dozen or so more guards. I was literally in the fucking middle of nowhere, besides that, I’m obviously wanted, so I can’t just walk up to anyone and ask where the nearest hotel is and expect to be accommodated. I didn’t know what to do so I just ran. 

Inspiration- or lackthereof

I know that I'm not consistently posting, and I've looked at my blog post dates, and they reflect the same.

Inspiration. Where does it come from? My professors in college told me that I can't just wait for inspiration to appear.  I have to go find it, and if I can't find it, I have to just write anyways.

In college, I mostly wrote about books. It feels so good to read a book and analyze the characters. Not just read the pages and say “that was a good book,” but to also read what the author left out, what the author left for you to discover. I have learned so much about this in college. I enjoyed all of the research and the papers. Yet I have left it behind. I have thrown it in the wind and let it float away. I have let dust grow on my Chaucer, Boccaccio, Frost, William Carlos Williams. I loved Virginia Wolfe, Hemingway, and Bronte, yet now I read a book and think, or even say to someone “I would love to compare the blah blah blah to da da da,” or “I want to read this from suchandsuch standpoint and write about it,” but I never do. I don’t do the research, I don’t go back, re-read and write papers, and why not? I don’t have an answer for that, but I bet it’s floating around somewhere in my subconscious. 

I also have written short stories, and I used to write poetry, but I don't anymore. I need to change that. I'm going to change that. 

More about books

I did get very frustrated with myself because my book posts started to become a book log with just summaries of what happened in the book. I wanted to blog about books, so  I wouldn't lose the skills I learned in college. I also wanted to hone those skills. I'm going to try again, this time writing analytical statements of part of the book. 

While I wasn't blogging, I read through the Harry Potter series, and I read more of R.A. Salvatore's books.