Writer’s Curse

Lost in an eternal moment, a pensive, overwhelming mood. My thoughts devour me until I grow empty, yet the complexity of the world is within my mind. If only I could bridle the chaos of words and create meaning. I am emotion, so hidden, but at the same time barely contained in myself. One day I wonder if the world shall pour out of me, an aching waterfall of feeling that has no end, consuming every problem in the world.

My thoughts are fleeting, writhing, mangled things. Mysteries. I find myself considering humanity’s predicament and am plunged into the deepest ocean, choking on my useless tongue. I have a voice that could be heard clearly from heights of mountains, but it is trapped inside my beating heart. Words are but abstract sounds; we give them significance. Entropy is beauty incarnate, refusing to follow the river’s flow and instead becoming my Plague.

The earth is a looming weight upon my broken shoulders, but the Creator’s hands prevent it from crushing me.

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How To Snare a Reader

“The Earth trembled beneath him as if rattling its final breath.”

That is the opening to my novel. There must be some secret to catching readers, but I doubt my ability. Each phrase must be crafted with the utmost care; each sentence must be flawless.

Do these words create a sense of urgency? Do they make you wonder what is happening? To whom?

Fellow writer, would you read this book or set it back upon the shelf?

I leave my words here, vulnerable to your venerable opinion.

The Struggle is Real

Imagine a novel without dialogue.

Horrifying?

When you open a book for the first time, your eyes are seeking white space. No one wants to read pages of lengthy paragraphs burdened with aimless, wandering descriptions. Readers need to see your characters interacting, moving the plot forward, otherwise the pages are filled with silence.

Dialogue is not small talk; it must serve a purpose.

This is my struggle and also the struggle of many others. I don’t want my audience to grow bored with my one-dimensional characters. I borrowed an excellent book from the library that has various suggestions to practice writing dialogue.

For example:

1) Create a conversation between your protagonist and antagonist. Ensure that their words clearly convey motives and we can have sympathy for both characters.

2) “What if [your] characters start talking and they all sound the same?”

“…Stop writing for a moment, pull up a page, and just start writing like a mad person in the character’s point of view…Don’t think about what you’re writing. Write about anything. Explode.”

Thank you, Gloria Kempton for the advice!

Thought I’d Do Some Light Reading..

“She wandered within the Forest of Tales, her fingers following the trail of spines until her imagination became lost.”

As I am writing a fantasy novel, I have decided to read up on the genre. I recently visited the library, thinking I would borrow a book or two. Library Books

But, as you can tell, there are many YA fantasy novels to choose from. Unable to make up my mind, I carried about a third (of the ones I found interesting) to the checkout desk. I told the librarian I am “doing research”, but I’m pretty sure she doubted the veracity of my explanation.

Furthermore, publishing companies seem to really prefer images of swords on fantasy novel covers…

*Featured image found on Rachel’s Studio Blog

Words Sprout from Clever Hands

As a chronic klutz, learning American Sign Language is a challenge for which I was woefully unprepared.

This semester I decided to take ASL classes. I imagined myself slowly mastering signs and gaining the impressive ability to interact with deaf people.

Then reality hit me.

You have to be able to read the other person’s signs. Duh! Well, it is much, much more difficult than I had anticipated. Every time I attempt to decipher my instructor’s words all I see is blur of hands and a grimace or eyebrow-raise every few signs (for grammar).

Chinese was easier for me. At least the characters stay still!

Hopefully I shall find motivation to pursue ASL after this semester, but for now I remain a perpetually embarrassed student.

 

Dread of an Author

What if my passion is for naught?
If the novel I have attempted to perfect for so long results in an unopened dream on someone’s shelf, collecting dust upon yellowing pages?
What will happen if not a soul appreciates the words I have so zealously pondered?

Why are some books great and others tossed in the trash? When I walk through the bookstore and see the thousands of books that line the shelves I worry mine will be one of those that never feels the stroke of a hand within its pages.

Do other writers fear the same fate or am I the only one?