I read this article. This one here by Bryan Hutchinson at Positive Writer. And I really liked the article. I like what he said about the audacity of being a writer.
The reason I like it is that in these upside down modern times people are rarely audacious anymore. No one really stands up and speaks their mind. It seems everywhere I turn, someone is offended by something. People, on average, tend to shy away from their true feelings on subjects when in public. The fear of being shamed or ridiculed has made humanity cower in a corner and only speak their mind in small circles of close friends and family.
So this begs me to ask the question: are writers audacious anymore? Are there any writers out there writing against the flow of the PC River that flows through our lives daily? Continue reading
As I have begun this journey into becoming an author (I already consider myself a writer because I write) I have learned many things. One of the more interesting things I have learned was not as much about the craft, but about those that live behind the words. The people that go through the day as a writer, struggling to form the perfect sentence or craft intriguing plots or worse still, trying to find their unique voice.
This strange breed of creature lurks behind keyboards in dimly lit rooms or cafes, glaring at the smiling, laughing creatures that gleefully sip their lattes and know not the struggles of translating worlds in your head into coherent words on paper. These other creatures laugh amongst their compatriots and call them strange words like “friend” and “buddy.” They walk into the sunlight without a pen or paper to jot down a fleeting idea before it disappears into the wind. They casually touch others of their kind, feeling the warmth of flesh beneath their delicate fingers. The others drink their coffee-drinks for status and because everyone else does, and not for the life-giving fuel that a writer knows it is. Continue reading
In the fiction writing class I am currently taking, my first ever attempt at being taught the rules of writing by the way, we are discussing conflict and resolution. A few other things have occurred to me while in the class.
For years, nay decades, I have bucked against the traditions spoken by teachers and critics. I have viewed most forms of art as my interpretation. It means what I want it to me. I often questioned authoritative figures who tried to tell me this artist was trying to display this emotion. The reason the man is wearing a blue coat is to denote the sadness in his soul. The dark clouds that are slowly creeping over the lovers in foreshadowing dark and troubles events to come.
I would often look a teacher in the eye and ask how they knew this? Without record of the inner thoughts of some writers and painters, we had to interpret the meaning behind their work. So I always pointed out that maybe they just liked the color blue, it had nothing to do with sadness. What if he just thought a few storm clouds moving in would be a good way to go? These are the things I questions, because at the the time, I was an outsider.
I read the writer’s words. I looked at the artist’s drawings. Each had as much meaning as I gave it. Many of my peers would think the same thing, I was the only one idiotic enough to challenge authority.
Things have changed a wee bit. Continue reading
Well, National Novel Writing Month conquered me. I was unable to accomplish this monumental feat of writing in the span of 30 days.
Looking back, I didn’t even stick to any schedule at all. Not one to make excuses, I will now make excuses. Continue reading
One of the best pieces of advice I have read in a while.
WORK UNTIL YOUR IDOLS BECOME YOUR RIVALS