THINKING OUT OF THE BOX
Writers Block. What is it and how do we as writers, cope with it?
For some, writers block is as real as yesterdays rejection slips. Others declare that it's only a state of mind. I tend to agree with the latter. But for those who take it seriously, it can become very real. All too real. That's when it begins to fester into a terminal illness. One that could actually destroy a writer. They wrestle with the concept for days even months, putting off the gory job of finishing an agonizing bit of revision, or the dreaded, yet uninspired detail their manuscript needs before the task of quering can begin. The illness only grows worse with time if not corrected quickly. This can be done by reading about or listening to other writers who are dealing with the same disease. So, don't just sat and wait for relief to come to you, start looking for an answer as soon as WB appears.
There are many things that contribute to writers block; Coffee, chocolate, noisy children, barking dogs, a trip to the mailbox, even a change in the weather. Any excuse will do. Because during a bout with WB we are looking for some kind of excuse. Anything that will keep us out of that chair. Because in a untangible way, it threatens those of us who like to (Dare I say it?) Procrastinate.
The funny thing is . . .The very things that keep us from writering can be the ones that inspire us to continue our writing, if, we look out of the box. Determination. That's the key word here. Determination and ones state of mind. Take another look at the causes I listed above for causing WB. These things are with us each and every day. How we choose to look at them is our own personal decision. How we choose to use them is also up to each of us. But they can be our vantage points for grasping new ideas. Each of these causes can in reality furnish us with new Ideas and concepts to make our stories shine. Take coffee for instance, when I sip my hot cup of java, I close my eyes and can imagine myself anywhere and in any situation. Chocolate can do the same thing. Listening to children is a special resource that a lot of writers don't have. Children can become, when truly being observed, a wealth of information at ones fingertips but not if the observer isn't interested in learning. Dogs, cats and other wildlife carry with them their own unique tales but it takes a willing mind to capture their stories. These are true stories that are always presenting themselves to the animal enthusiast.
Look out of the box the next time you need to be inspired. Watch your dog or cat play in your living room or the back yard. Listen to the children play. Take a walk wheather in the park or your own back yard. Truly look at the blue of the sky, the racing dark clouds, trees bowing under the wind.
If nothing else works, try playing your favorite song or light a candle. Anything to get that muse jump started!
Tuesday, June 3, 2008
Tuesday, April 22, 2008
Sensational Idea, Brainstorming, Story
When I think of writing a story, I think of more than a simple story idea. I like to brain storm every aspect of the idea; original characters complete with emotions and short-comings, idealic settings that will add to the story and frame it out, carefully chosen words that color the character and exemplify his/her emotions-thoughts & world. That takes a little time but pays off in the end when I go to write the piece. Usually by that time, I have a solid outline of the story already in my mind and the story seems to write itself! By then, I'm excited about getting all the stuff floating around in my mind on paper and I can't rest until I do just that. And at that inspirational moment, the words have a mind of their own and are flowing from my fingertips like hot lava from a volcano. My fingers fly across the keyboard. Paragraphs form almost by themselves. A story comes together like magic. And before I know it, the thing is done! When that happens, I can at long last, lean back in my chair and breath. Whew! I love, love, love it!
This is exactly what I did yesterday when I created a new PB for a contest. The whole process of creating something entirely new is very challenging and wonderful to me. It is fun. It is exciting. It is very, very satisfying to know that I have created something new in this vast world of knowledge.
Next, comes the edit.
This is exactly what I did yesterday when I created a new PB for a contest. The whole process of creating something entirely new is very challenging and wonderful to me. It is fun. It is exciting. It is very, very satisfying to know that I have created something new in this vast world of knowledge.
Next, comes the edit.
Saturday, November 3, 2007
NANOWRIMO MADNESS!
NANOWRIMO is in full swing! I hope everyone is as excited about creating a new novel as I am. Creativity is flowing through my fingertips like magic from a wand! I love my spooky characters and can't wait to see what they're up to. Melissaa is the protaginist and my favorite character. Although, I feel so sorry for the EVIL ghost, which is the antaginist. I love the other characters as well and hope they make it through my novel alive! Hehehe!
Friday, November 2, 2007
Mad Dash to BLOOMING TREE PRESS
Yesterday I, and many other authors began writing a new novel (for NANOWRIMO), national novel writing month. It's a creative race to finish a novel of say, 50k words. No one takes the time to edit or redo anything. You just begin with a plot or character and go for it! My novel is a YA paranormal titled, Meissaa. It's oozing with mysterous ghosts and evil spirits!
I also took an opportunity to sub my latest picture book, chapter book and ya novel to BLOOMING TREE PRESS. I'm sure many others joined me in the persuit of getting their work looked at my one of the best company's in the world. They offer only a small window of time (one month) to get unpublished work to them for a chance of publication. BTP is one of the most sought after among published and unpublished writers alike.
I also took an opportunity to sub my latest picture book, chapter book and ya novel to BLOOMING TREE PRESS. I'm sure many others joined me in the persuit of getting their work looked at my one of the best company's in the world. They offer only a small window of time (one month) to get unpublished work to them for a chance of publication. BTP is one of the most sought after among published and unpublished writers alike.
Monday, October 29, 2007
FREE, Creepy, Haunting, Halloween Story
BLOODY REVENGE
by
C.S. Davidson
*Sometimes, all we have is the dark side.*
“Scratch, scratch, scratch!” His desperate cry for help at low hanging windows and locked doors continues, but no one answers. No one dares! The creature he’d become terrified all who knew of him now. For now, he killed to survive. Living off the blood of the innocent in his search for the guilty.
He awakens when the full moon beckons. Crawling through the darkness on the only path he knows; urged on by one thought, one desire. Revenge. His dismal mission for all eternity is to search out and find the one who murdered the girl he loved. He will search forever but in vain because the person he seeks, lies motionless in a cold grave . . . Next to his own!
It happened ten years ago, when Ricky Truman moved to Middleport. He inherited the old house on the hill above the graveyard. Truman mansion looked inviting from the town below but inside the old house, a raw chill caused boards to creak and intruder’s to look over their shoulders. The creaking floors and bare walls were mirrored in black window panes that gaped at all who came near.
Ricky Truman didn’t seem to mind the place being ruin down, he was eager to move in. He wasted no time, making it his home. He had been on his own until he got his inheritance from a step-grandfather who he had never met. After settling in, he started fixing up the ruin-down place. Ricky wasn’t afraid of work, he enjoyed fixing things. Besides, this was his home now.
The house was creepy at night when the hollow walls amplified weird noises; noises not heard in the daytime. The cemetery was over-grown with weeds. Trees cast long shadows across the grounds at sunset. The old tombstones were worn and unreadable; others had fallen from decay. It was going to be a challenge but Ricky was a fighter. He worked on the house every evening after school. On weekends he did odd jobs around the neighborhood to support himself.
It was at one of these jobs that he met Julie, Mr. Weirton’s daughter. She had been helping her mom clean junk
from their attic for Ricky to haul away. He fell in love with her that first day. She was a dish in her blue tee-shirt and cut-offs. Her red hair was pulled back into a pony-tail that hung across her shoulder.
Julie and Ricky were in the same classes at school so they saw each other a lot. By the end of the school year, they were both in love and Ricky gave her his class ring. Everything was great in his life now. Julie was sweet and beautiful. The house was coming along little by little. Ricky decided to ask Julie to marry him. But then . . . things started changing. Little things like a nasty look, an unanswered phone call, a few broken dates.
Fall came and they were invited to a Halloween party. A full moon cast long shadows as they walked toward Thomas Bowden’s house. Pumpkins lined the front steps. Inside music blared and hairy bats swung from the ceiling. Thomas came to greet them, dressed in a vampire costume.
“Hi, glad you could come,” he said smiling at Julie. Thomas was a football player but he was a no good. Often bragging about the girls he had made out with. Jokingly laughing about the gullibility of girls.
“Is everyone here?” Julie asked, looking around. She was overly friendly, it was her nature. And, she had never gotten over handsome Thomas Bowden. He had used her in the past but
she was still drawn to him.
“Yeh, now that you guys are here,” he said. They both grinned at each other and looked down. What was he up to? wondered Ricky. Him and Julie had dated once but Julie had said that was over. “Come on, Julie said, let’s mingle.” The party was really rocking. They walked around the wall toward the group in the corner.
“What was that all about?” asked Ricky, flashing his
eyes in Thomas‘s direction. He felt that Thomas was probably up to something. Why had Julie encouraged him?
“What?” She asked, “he’s just being friendly. Come on, he didn’t mean anything. Julie flung her red hair across her shoulder and kissed Ricky. Now come on.”
After joining their friends, Julie went to the kitchen for something else to drink. Soon, Ricky got tired waiting and went to look for her. She was not in the kitchen nor was she anywhere downstairs, neither was Thomas. Ricky threw down his drink and started up the stairs. He grabbed the banister to pull himself faster. Hot sweat covered his forehead, the knot in his stomach was jerking as he opened the first door, then another, then there, on the bed lay Julie, naked! In Thomas Bowden’s arms! A pain shot through Ricky’s stomach as he pounced on Thomas.
Thomas seeing Ricky’s rage, pulled a pistol from the bed-side table and tried to aim at Ricky. Julie grabbed his neck to choke him when that didn’t work she reach for the pistol and he blew her hand off. Ricky took the pistol from Thomas and shot him in the head, then he shot himself.
A week later on Halloween, three coffins were carried to Truman cemetery. To this day, Julie’s hand with Ricky’s ring has never been found. But from that time on, strange things started happening in the neighborhood on moonlit nights. The Weirton’s thought they saw Ricky looking through their bedroom window. The Bowden’s heard scratching at their doors. The old mansion on Truman Hill stands empty but lights mysteriously go off and on by themselves.
Nobody goes trick-or-treating in Middleport anymore. If they hear scratching or knocking at night, they don’t dare open their doors. Ricky has never given up his search for the killer. Until this day, he crawls through the thick darkness thirsting for the blood of a murderer.
© 2003 Sue D. Frye
Frye is the winner Mochamemoirs.com Halloween contest.
by
C.S. Davidson
*Sometimes, all we have is the dark side.*
“Scratch, scratch, scratch!” His desperate cry for help at low hanging windows and locked doors continues, but no one answers. No one dares! The creature he’d become terrified all who knew of him now. For now, he killed to survive. Living off the blood of the innocent in his search for the guilty.
He awakens when the full moon beckons. Crawling through the darkness on the only path he knows; urged on by one thought, one desire. Revenge. His dismal mission for all eternity is to search out and find the one who murdered the girl he loved. He will search forever but in vain because the person he seeks, lies motionless in a cold grave . . . Next to his own!
It happened ten years ago, when Ricky Truman moved to Middleport. He inherited the old house on the hill above the graveyard. Truman mansion looked inviting from the town below but inside the old house, a raw chill caused boards to creak and intruder’s to look over their shoulders. The creaking floors and bare walls were mirrored in black window panes that gaped at all who came near.
Ricky Truman didn’t seem to mind the place being ruin down, he was eager to move in. He wasted no time, making it his home. He had been on his own until he got his inheritance from a step-grandfather who he had never met. After settling in, he started fixing up the ruin-down place. Ricky wasn’t afraid of work, he enjoyed fixing things. Besides, this was his home now.
The house was creepy at night when the hollow walls amplified weird noises; noises not heard in the daytime. The cemetery was over-grown with weeds. Trees cast long shadows across the grounds at sunset. The old tombstones were worn and unreadable; others had fallen from decay. It was going to be a challenge but Ricky was a fighter. He worked on the house every evening after school. On weekends he did odd jobs around the neighborhood to support himself.
It was at one of these jobs that he met Julie, Mr. Weirton’s daughter. She had been helping her mom clean junk
from their attic for Ricky to haul away. He fell in love with her that first day. She was a dish in her blue tee-shirt and cut-offs. Her red hair was pulled back into a pony-tail that hung across her shoulder.
Julie and Ricky were in the same classes at school so they saw each other a lot. By the end of the school year, they were both in love and Ricky gave her his class ring. Everything was great in his life now. Julie was sweet and beautiful. The house was coming along little by little. Ricky decided to ask Julie to marry him. But then . . . things started changing. Little things like a nasty look, an unanswered phone call, a few broken dates.
Fall came and they were invited to a Halloween party. A full moon cast long shadows as they walked toward Thomas Bowden’s house. Pumpkins lined the front steps. Inside music blared and hairy bats swung from the ceiling. Thomas came to greet them, dressed in a vampire costume.
“Hi, glad you could come,” he said smiling at Julie. Thomas was a football player but he was a no good. Often bragging about the girls he had made out with. Jokingly laughing about the gullibility of girls.
“Is everyone here?” Julie asked, looking around. She was overly friendly, it was her nature. And, she had never gotten over handsome Thomas Bowden. He had used her in the past but
she was still drawn to him.
“Yeh, now that you guys are here,” he said. They both grinned at each other and looked down. What was he up to? wondered Ricky. Him and Julie had dated once but Julie had said that was over. “Come on, Julie said, let’s mingle.” The party was really rocking. They walked around the wall toward the group in the corner.
“What was that all about?” asked Ricky, flashing his
eyes in Thomas‘s direction. He felt that Thomas was probably up to something. Why had Julie encouraged him?
“What?” She asked, “he’s just being friendly. Come on, he didn’t mean anything. Julie flung her red hair across her shoulder and kissed Ricky. Now come on.”
After joining their friends, Julie went to the kitchen for something else to drink. Soon, Ricky got tired waiting and went to look for her. She was not in the kitchen nor was she anywhere downstairs, neither was Thomas. Ricky threw down his drink and started up the stairs. He grabbed the banister to pull himself faster. Hot sweat covered his forehead, the knot in his stomach was jerking as he opened the first door, then another, then there, on the bed lay Julie, naked! In Thomas Bowden’s arms! A pain shot through Ricky’s stomach as he pounced on Thomas.
Thomas seeing Ricky’s rage, pulled a pistol from the bed-side table and tried to aim at Ricky. Julie grabbed his neck to choke him when that didn’t work she reach for the pistol and he blew her hand off. Ricky took the pistol from Thomas and shot him in the head, then he shot himself.
A week later on Halloween, three coffins were carried to Truman cemetery. To this day, Julie’s hand with Ricky’s ring has never been found. But from that time on, strange things started happening in the neighborhood on moonlit nights. The Weirton’s thought they saw Ricky looking through their bedroom window. The Bowden’s heard scratching at their doors. The old mansion on Truman Hill stands empty but lights mysteriously go off and on by themselves.
Nobody goes trick-or-treating in Middleport anymore. If they hear scratching or knocking at night, they don’t dare open their doors. Ricky has never given up his search for the killer. Until this day, he crawls through the thick darkness thirsting for the blood of a murderer.
© 2003 Sue D. Frye
Frye is the winner Mochamemoirs.com Halloween contest.
Friday, September 14, 2007
Gazing Into Space With A Silly Grin On My Face
Woot!!! I had nearly given up on hearing from my publisher concerning the illustrationing of my upcoming PB, when the phone rang! It was her! My fabtabulous publisher, Dindy. She said she had an illustrator interested in my book and that he was ANXIOUS to start! The only thing holding up the process now is the time thing. They have to find the right time to get all their working ideas on paper for my PB. I'm sure that the illustrator has done several mock-ups by now. That's what I do when I'm planning something. I make a rough draft of it in my mind, then on paper, then rework it all into some sort of orderlly fashion that can be improved upon, little by little, over time.
(Gazing into space with a silly grin on my face) I wonder what the cover will look like? And the other illustrations? And the book? I know that I will love it no matter what. I just hope, hope, hope everyone else will too. I've been gathering information for months concerning the advertisement and promotion of books. I've been working on a media kit, press releases, and yes, my own web site; which has been really hard for me because I'm not WEB SAVVY. This week I will make personal contact with all my local bookstores and libraries. I have already developed a working relationship with a radio station and my local newspapers via the traditional grassroots music that I help host and PR for every weekend at the Stables in our local state park. What else? What else? I have a wordzillion other projects to complete before next month. I hope I don't forget to do something really important like, finish editing my novel!
(Gazing into space with a silly grin on my face) I wonder what the cover will look like? And the other illustrations? And the book? I know that I will love it no matter what. I just hope, hope, hope everyone else will too. I've been gathering information for months concerning the advertisement and promotion of books. I've been working on a media kit, press releases, and yes, my own web site; which has been really hard for me because I'm not WEB SAVVY. This week I will make personal contact with all my local bookstores and libraries. I have already developed a working relationship with a radio station and my local newspapers via the traditional grassroots music that I help host and PR for every weekend at the Stables in our local state park. What else? What else? I have a wordzillion other projects to complete before next month. I hope I don't forget to do something really important like, finish editing my novel!
Sunday, May 6, 2007
Kentucky Hullabaloo
AN AUTHORS JOURNAL Wednesday, April 11, 2007
It's Hullabaloo month here in the Bluegrass land of Kentucky. So while all my Kangawrite buddies are in Arizona having the time of their life’s at a book fair, SIGH! I’ll be singing, playing the mandolin and carrying coffee to the other band members. The music and festivities won't start until later toward the weekend but we'll arrive three days early to get the lowdown on everything before it starts. Hmmmm! Don't take me wrong. I love music, especially bluegrass, but I really hate to miss the book fair! I sent my publisher Dindy an email. I wanted to let her know that I'm getting antsy waiting for my picture book "Bad Dragonflies" to come out. Plus, I wanted to ask her a question namely, should I just sit here waiting or should I be doing something to prepare for the mementos event? Anyway, I just got a new notebook laptop and I'm writing this to try it out. Just one question. “Now that I finally got my laptop, will my writing improve?
It's Hullabaloo month here in the Bluegrass land of Kentucky. So while all my Kangawrite buddies are in Arizona having the time of their life’s at a book fair, SIGH! I’ll be singing, playing the mandolin and carrying coffee to the other band members. The music and festivities won't start until later toward the weekend but we'll arrive three days early to get the lowdown on everything before it starts. Hmmmm! Don't take me wrong. I love music, especially bluegrass, but I really hate to miss the book fair! I sent my publisher Dindy an email. I wanted to let her know that I'm getting antsy waiting for my picture book "Bad Dragonflies" to come out. Plus, I wanted to ask her a question namely, should I just sit here waiting or should I be doing something to prepare for the mementos event? Anyway, I just got a new notebook laptop and I'm writing this to try it out. Just one question. “Now that I finally got my laptop, will my writing improve?
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