What are we knowing?
Knowing that this book will never end?
What we get is some lovely telling. No really. We’re told that Eragon asks after her and that she answers briefly. Really. That’s pretty much it almost word for word. With all the other expositing and rambling Paolini does in this book, a brief exchange between two main characters right before they spar is too much? How does Eragon greet her? The text says, “as he had done every day since arriving at the city”. (Follow the Fake Link)
I'm taking a creative course over the summer for fun.
It's a beginning writing class so it really is just for fun. For me at least.
Our first assignment was to describe an object in detail that meant a lot to us. Or had some
value. We had to make the object come alive. So. This is what I did:( LightsaberCollapse )
We have a Pretentious College Student Writer in the class who I may smack down if he continues with his possibly well meaning but utterly unacceptable forms of writing subjects. He's going for Shock Value. Unfortunately his Shock Value is just... not shocking. But instead dumb and tired and cliche.
Still, it's been fun nonetheless. Beyond having to wake up at ridiculously early times.
In less than a week I’ll be mailing off my manuscript to the publisher for them to read and to say this is wonderful/awful/meh. And I’ll be one step closer to being a published have a book in my hands writer. It’s still something I can’t wrap my head around. I’ve spent so much of my life working towards this goal that I can’t actually believe it’s real. I probably won’t even believe it when I have the book in my hands. I suppose now I can go onto the more finicky desire of I want to be a published fiction writer.
Talking to a friend on Monday I said that I couldn’t say that I was an aspiring author any more. She said interesting thin back.
“Writers write books; authors wrote books.”
Which seemed like an odd idea or an odd differentiation.
But after thinking about it for a while I realized that it did make sense.
A writer writes. Getting published doesn’t stop a writer from writing. They will still march onto the next project or projects. They sometimes can’t stop. They may not get all their projects published, but they will still keep on going. Writing has a very active and mobile feeling to it. You can see people writing. Their fingers move on keyboards or they scribbling on pads of paper with pens. Always a constant movement. (Except when they’re staring out into space because of Reasons.)
Authors, authoring doesn't feel very kinetic. It’s the photograph of the writer posing at the back of the book. It’s still and done. You have authored something, you’re not authoring. You’ve authored a book. You can’t really see someone authoring.
So, I think I will be a published writer and perhaps when I’m dead I can be a published author.
A friend of mine died suddenly over the weekend.
We only knew each other over the internet but we were good friends. She was even coming out in May – around the 21st- to visit me on her way to New York and grad school. She was going to be getting a Masters and then a PhD in History specializing in like the Prohibition era. I was going to take her to the restaurant where they filmed the Schwarma scene in the Avengers.
We met over Journal/DW rping at a game called the Library and eventually we hit it off smashingly. We clicked over banana slugs of all things.
I was talking to another friend, one that I met through her, about how strange it seemed that we both missed her so much. After all we never saw her in person, just through photographs she posted. We never heard her speak, except through voice recording memes. Our entire contact was through words and screens. Why should someone like that, someone we’ve never had a physical contact with hurt so much when they go?
After some thought, I realized what it was: we told stories together. In our Role playing, during games or private story lines, we were telling stories together and that’s a very intimate thing to do. We were creating lives together. We were creating worlds together. Opening ourselves up to the other person and saying this is something I think is interesting that I created and I want to share it with you. I want you to be apart of it.
We told stories with characters and lived their lives, their private moments, their hours, days and years. Births and deaths, finding love and losing it. Anxiety over things, over family and friends and the world around them. Laughing at the good things, enjoying the strange moments that happen between lovers and friends. Every piece of a person’s life that they could go through with another person, we did together. Several times over.
And now these stories, all of them incomplete, all of these lives incomplete are gone forever. They will never be finished. They are lives cut short, just like hers. We’ve lost a part of ourselves, a creative and intimate part of our self that we shared with another person. We lost a bit of our self that said to someone let’s make something bigger and better than just the one of us.
Even if we were to find another person who plays the same characters she did, it wouldn’t be the same. The new person would play them differently. They wouldn’t have the same history or knowledge of the ideas we came up with. They wouldn’t have the same experiences that the two of us shared to get to these stories. After all, everyone has their own spin on what makes a character tick or work.
I think this is why role playing, is so involving. We’re not just playing make believe. We’re creating something more than ourselves and we’re sharing it with other people. Saying, I want you to help me make this thing. I need your help to make this thing, to put this idea into the world and to make it grand and wondrous and glorious. It may only be the two of us who ever see this, but it will be an awesome and amazing and fantastic and beautiful and I want to do it with you.
I am choosing you, I think you would be good, perfect, to share this experience, to help create this experience.
And now, it’s gone.
Gone forever, a broken book with the ending pages torn out. A doll left by the wayside on the road caught in the rain. The sad house, falling apart in the field. You can see the glory of what it used to be, but all you have is memories.
At least the memories are good ones.
And at least I can go back and read the stories we created.
Dumb but worthwhile things to do when you're sick: Go to a book signing that's over an hour away. It's actually only 45 minutes away, but with traffic it ended up being about two hours away. Hahaha LA traffic I hate you. So, we - my mom and I - left a bit before 4 pm and didn't get back until 11:30 pm.
We went to go to Brandon Sanderson's signing for his new book "the Words of Radiance". Apparently it was originally going to be called "the Book of Endless Pages" but his editor was like, "You realize you probably don't want to call a book that's physically the largest book we can print that, do you?"
I, because of boredom of having been sick the ... well... the entire week, designed some bookmarks for him. I thought it would be nice because I know that authors are like just sort of hounded upon by fans and it's a terribly long book tour with long hours and it'd be nice to get a little something back of appreciation. ( Bookmarks!Collapse )
He really appreciated them. He gave me a Shin card.
Also, I mentioned my book to him and that I was using him as an example in it. He wanted to know where he could buy it. :D So, I told him I'd let him know when it came out.
And now I'm going to read my massive book and be sick and wobbly having over extended myself.
Cats and world building.
I just came home from my Monday night writing session with a friend at Denny's. My roommate, after having switched cars (hurrah tandem parking) says that the cat knows that I'm here a couple of minutes before I actually show up. Like he will be hanging out in my room and then will suddenly run off to the front door and start meowing and walking around in front of it and then bam! a few minutes later I show up. This is even when I'm gone for a few hours randomly. He just seems to know when I'm going to be coming home. Psychic?
So, that short story that I wrote last week, with the Super Heroes?
I’ve now done over 7,000 typed up words and over twenty handwritten pages of scenes from it. I’ve been trying to work out the story arc of it so I can maybe turn it into a novel, but also I need to do more world building.
One of the things that I really need to figure out is how do Super Heroes fit into this world. Especially since I don’t want it to be a complete clone of Marvel or DC or Image or the other super hero type universes. I know I want to keep the whole Reed Richards is Useless (Warning, TVtropes Link) idea afloat because that’s what Alec changes. He’s been to plenty of Super Hero type worlds where the heroes develop all sorts of awesome technology and… don’t share it with the populace. In this world then he decides he wants to change that. He wants to – well not be Reed Richards, because he doesn’t want to do the Super Hero Shtick – but give the populace access to that kind of technology.
Why doesn’t the populace have access to some of that technology? Maybe because the Super Heroes are keeping it from them. It’s a horrible conspiracy. Maybe super Heroes need an edge of some sort to help protect the population. Or maybe they’re just bastards. Don’t know yet. But I need to figure that part out.
Also, since it’s a Super Hero universe there are certain things that I’d like to throw in. Somehow. The big sort of Event Cross Over Type Things. With the Huge Unspeakable Unknowing Things that Want to Destroy All of Reality, like Darksied or Galactus, or even something like probably not Infinite Crisis type level, but definitely something that requires all the Heroes to gang up and cause a lot of property damage. I want to do this for two reasons. One because it’s pretty much a super hero staple and two it’ll be hard for Alec to see it. He’s used to being able to just curb stomp these sorts of creatures. Now he’s got to worry about being curb-stomped. It’s getting him to realize about being human more. About the dangers of not having powers. Plus it’ll give him something to really worry about with Nate/Silver Hawk. After all Nate is a Super Hero.
What else? Well, how are the Super Heroes organized? How do Super Heroes get their powers? Is it something like random like in the Marvel or DC universe or is there a Certain Thing that can cause it. What about the Super Villains. I introduced someone called the Time Master. Can he really do anything with time or is it just something he calls himself? Oh, and Nate in particular. How did he get his powers? Was it unusual? Though that’s more character development, isn’t it?
Then there’s the technology level in the world itself. Is it like about our level? Is it not as advanced as us? Well, I did indicate that Kickstarter did exist, but that doesn’t mean it has to exist like that in a longer story. Also some things might be as advanced as we have them now and others not so advanced. Though the more advanced things will be introduced by Alec.
These are things that I’ve been pondering.
Never mind the fact that I’ve got no story arc. I’ve got a bunch of scenes! But no story arc.