Of Musings and Nonsense

Just in case any of my awesome followers want to follow/take a look at my free-form writing blog it’s located here. I don’t update it very regularly because most of my creative energies right now are going towards my book, but I still do post stuff occasionally.

Go on and give it a look-see.

there is a jug of it in my house and i want some but my mom was like “you can’t have that” and now i’m sad

What a pity. I write best after a couple drinks, and I imagine most other writers do as well.

Just drank a healthy amount of rum. Time to write.

Just realized I’ve written over 10,000 words for my book. It’s all uphill downhill from here.

Not sleeping is bad, but writing is good. Things even out.

That moment when one of the posts from your writing blog gets almost 200 notes.

Sometimes I get upset at myself for taking characters and stories in a certain direction. Even though I am the writer, the story goes where it will, and I must follow.

My most creative ideas for writing come to me while I’m doing homework.

quixoticminds:

These words are war, and hate, and power, and love. Ideas are dangerous. especially when written down.

These words, these words.

I’ve got loads of homework due by class time tomorrow night, so naturally I have been writing all day instead of actually doing said homework.

Creativity has bad timing.

karenfelloutofbedagain:

Lots of things might happen. That’s the thing about writers. They’re unpredictable. They might bring you eggs in bed for breakfast, or they might all but ignore you for days. They might bring you eggs in bed at three in the morning. Or they might wake you up for sex at three in the morning. Or make love at four in the afternoon. They might not sleep at all. Or they might sleep right through the alarm and forget to get you up for work. Or call you home from work to kill a spider. Or refuse to speak to you after finding out you’ve never seen To Kill A Mockingbird. Or spend the last of the rent money on five kinds of soap. Or sell your textbooks for cash halfway through the semester. Or leave you love notes in your pockets. Or wash you pants with Post-It notes in the pockets so your laundry comes out covered in bits of wet paper. They might cry if the Post-It notes are unread all over your pants. It’s an unpredictable life.

But what happens if a writer falls in love with you?

This is a little more predictable. You will find your hemp necklace with the glass mushroom pendant around the neck of someone at a bus stop in a short story. Your favorite shoes will mysteriously disappear, and show up in a poem. The watch you always wear, the watch you own but never wear, the fact that you’ve never worn a watch: they suddenly belong to characters you’ve never known. And yet they’re you. They’re not you; they’re someone else entirely, but they toss their hair like you. They use the same colloquialisms as you. They scratch their nose when they lie like you. Sometimes they will be narrators; sometimes protagonists, sometimes villains. Sometimes they will be nobodies, an unimportant, static prop. This might amuse you at first. Or confuse you. You might be bewildered when books turn into mirrors. You might try to see yourself how your beloved writer sees you when you read a poem about someone who has your middle name or prose about someone who has never seen To Kill A Mockingbird. These poems and novels and short stories, they will scatter into the wind. You will wonder if you’re wandering through the pages of some story you’ve never even read. There’s no way to know. And no way to erase it. Even if you leave, a part of you will always be left behind.

If a writer falls in love with you, you can never die.

Seek me, and you won’t find me

Forget about me, and I’ll be gone

Children are unaware of me, yet we are together always

I come to you when you have no time for me

I will not be forced or coaxed

I will simply be

I was there first, even before time itself

I love writing.

But sometimes, I really don’t like writing.

It feels so good to be writing again.

I really do love stories.