Poetry Soup

Sophomore year I had lunch with Kurt and rambled to him about whether or not I should buy a book called Poet's Market. At the time it was the 2004 version. In the end (and in no way due to Kurt's thoughts - he was basically like, "Uh, I don't know...why the hell are you asking me?" which was totally legitimate so don't worry Kurt) I bought the book...and never used it.

Until now.

I guess I was busy then with school and didn't have time for poetry and cover letters and postage and all that nonsense. Now it's 2006 and the problem is this: Every year the creators of Poet's Market, Writer's Market and the other books of that family (my Writer's Market is the 2002 version I believe) update everything and punch out a new edition. So who in this book still exists and who does not? That's what I need to find out. I already went to the little library here to see if they had one I could compare with, but no such luck. I was expecting that though.

So I've been combing though the pages, picking out specific places to look into. First I went with themes, then openness to submissions (beginners, experienced, etc.). Right now I'm focusing on places that have websites as they are the easiest to determine whether or not they are still in business. Email submissions are good because they cut down on envelopes and postage.

I've sent off a lot of poems so far - why poems you ask? To be honest, I'm not really sure. I don't do well with short stories, as I think many of you are aware. I need to go with a different approach. But I figured it would be important to get my name in print somewhere so I don't look like some slug amateur. So I guess I'll tell you something interesting.

3 poems have been accepted by a little publication called 3 Cup Morning. The funny thing is that A.) it's Canadian (but who's complaining?) and B.) I got a response in roughly an hour. That's got to be record time. Are they legit you ask? Well, yeah. Poet's Market doesn't put bogus places in their book. Besides, I did a search on 3 Cup Morning because searching for a publication usually yields somebody's publication credits. Anyway, when putting this kind of thing in a cover letter, editors don't all know each other. There are (in this edition at least) over 1,800 places to send poetry. In short, it looks good.

I think now I'm going to hit the hay after a bit of entertainment. I should send some more stuff and then get to work on a query letter and send off a book or part of one. That's getting heavy duty, but hey, I'm not getting any younger, and how the hell am I ever going to get a book published if I just let them sit there?

Currently: Magical

*Nyarg*

I've organized a lot of my writing pieces. Some of you may have seen the dark blue binder I have which carries the maps I've made, along with various pieces and ideas for things. I stuck my revised #1 in there, so it got pretty crowded and thus I had to move a section into a different binder. I might even move more and keep the dark blue binder restricted to books 1-6.

But that's as much as I've done so far. The muses are still asleep, though I have had one stirring. I wanted to write a bit about Anna yesterday but then suddenly found myself out of commission and lying on my bed dying. Wasn't a very good time. So I didn't do much. I want to see a certain something in order to try and get things awake more, but I also want a writing desk for peace and quiet and good lighting. Honestly, after too long this yellow light in the computer room sucks. Hurts the eyes.

Perhaps instead of trying to come up with an entirely new scenario, I should just write down the two I have sitting in my head and get them down on paper. One deals with Anna, the other does not. My only slight worry of that is both have music that inspired them and I've had times like this before where I've had an awesome song for something and I just play it over and over to go with the writing. 7 minute song though one of them may be, the scene is just absolutely gigantic. It's a friggin' war for goodness sake. A lot of detail, a lot of stuff going on and I'd have to play the song for an infinate amount of time, which I don't want to do because the last time I did that I grew tired of the song and it doesn't impress me anymore. Heh, like I've sucked all the awesomeness out of it. I'd have to supplement this one with other music. I'd just have to. I really don't want to suck this song bone dry of all its coolness.

Either way, muses or no muses, I'm going to have to start forcing some stuff onto the pages. Be aggressive, b-e agressive and all that jazz. Stacey gave me two 5-subject notebooks, college ruled, as a graduation present. *drools everywhere* Yes, yes, I'm a slave to the blank page. She gave me some pencils too, and though they're not the kind I usually write with, they will be used - oh yes, they will. In fact, I should go look to see what size lead they have because I haven't thought to look until now.

Either way, I have the tools, so I guess I should just start improvising. Yes, that's the ticket.

WRITING IMPROV HERE I COME!


Currently: A lil spaztic

Wrong Key

So I've been holding off on reading a certain fanfic for, oh, all semester. Why? Basically because I was afraid that it would trigger a certain muse and I'd want to go on a writing rampage, but because of all the reading I had to do (amongst other things at the time) I wouldn't have the kind of time I wanted (hours on end) to write. However, last night I decided to risk it as I can finish my last three things in at the most three days, which I have, and read until 4am. However, things did not look promising. Still, I finished it today at risk of running out of shopping time (well not really, I just wanted to get out by 2 and didn't leave until at least 4ish. Part of that was because my grandparents got online and started chatting).

But to move on. The story disappointed me. It wasn't the right key, if I even want to bother calling it a possible key at all. And so that particular muse still sleeps, much to my aggrevation. I know there are keys to waking up the other muses as well, that's usually what happens, I just have to find them. It's like this is turning into a video game or something. Find the correct keys, get blocked by homework and tests and other crap, get to the muses, and finish the game by writing something super-awesome. Mmm...sounds nice. Despite the fact that this one didn't work, I think I know where I can find the real key, but I just have to wait. After all, it was the first opening of the door to that muse. He was awake and hanging around before then, but it wasn't until I did the reading that he came up, tapped me on the shoulder, and smiled right in my face. Ironically, that author is bogged down by the same things as myself.

So the others are still asleep, and I'm banging on the see-through coffin of one of them. It's a matter of time. Just a matter of time. I think another key will at some point be through Deviant Art...and something else somewhere....

It's just a matter of time.

Currently: A bit tired and weary

My Muses Sleep

All my muses are currently in comas.

I know, that sounds weird, but several times now I've sat in front of a notebook and have been just totally unable to write. It's not so much writer's block really, I just don't know where to start or end or anything. I know what I can write, but it's just not coming through, like there's a block in a creative pipe (so maybe it is writer's block) and I need a muse to come through and free things up.

This doesn't count because this is what it is - a ramble. Thoughts that float around in my head that really don't take too much creative thought (if any) at all. They're all there, my muses, I can see them all, but they're asleep, floating in clear coffins in a sea of starry darkness, like in some abyss I can't get to until I'm done with all this school nonsense. As though all this current junk causes so much interference they had nowhere else to go but sleep. Yeah, I know all that sounds melodramatic, but it sucks. Just as if you were a math major and couldn't get what you think is a simple problem to work out right and it makes you want to pull your hair out or cry. Or if you're a bio person and the experiments just aren't doing what they should be and there is no real reason why not. Ironically though, I'm not frustrated, because I know that it will all come back once I'm out of here at at home where I don't have to worry about homework anymore. I can focus on what I want to focus on and start sending out more things. Especially big things. Yes, big things.

My first book is all edited and pretty much ready to be sent to an editor/agent. I just need to make up some really good query letters and hope they like what they see. Rejection can bite my ass. I will be published. Even if it doesn't happen right away, I will be dammit.

All my characters are waiting. I just have to find the way back to them.

Currently: Searching for my muses

"A Struggling Writer Lives Here"

That's what it says on my dry erase board. Why is that?

Because I've been rejected by all the graduate schools I applied to.

No, no, don't give me your sympathy; I don't want to hear a bunch of "I'm sorries," that only serves to annoy me and remind me of what happened. And this is writing related, which is why this post exists.

For those of you who don't know, I was rejected by Carbondale Monday the 6th (or at least that's when I got the letter). Edwardsville said no in the first package of mail I opened Sunday night, and today my father informed me that U of I had sent the rejection there (why they sent it to the house, I have no idea). Of course, my dad started getting all these ideas, which (of course) only began to aggrevate me, the main thing being when he began spouting his belief of why I was rejected when I knew all along why. I admit, I was really irked when I had to explain yet again to someone what the deal was and why. But dad forgets stuff all the time so oh well. You see, writers have their niche, and what I was afraid of was that my writing samples wouldn't be good enough for them. They weren't, as the guy from Edwardsville outlined after I inquired. The problem? I didn't have enough of what I knew they would want to see. I've felt awkward in a few of my creative writing classes because the professors have their styles and if you don't write within 5 feet of that, they seem to look down on you a little as not as good of a writer. Of course, my last creative writing class with Dr. Lamonica (where this blog was spawned from) wasn't like that at all and I believe my total freedom helped give rise to some of my best creative ideas that might have made good samples to send. Ah well.

So now what? Well, I'm glad to know I'm not the only one out there like this. Interestingly enough, my sister Stacey informed me that Nick's (her boyfriend) sister Mari was in the same boat as me. I'm a writer, she's an artist. She's not going to grad school, but instead is just going to find a job good enough to give her what she needs while she tries to get her art into the public scene. Hmm, sounds like my plan, haha.

Honestly, that is my plan. You see, when I first got my rejection from Carbondale, I laughed. Not in spite or anything weird really, just "God, finally I have an answer, time to move on with life." I'd become so hung up on grad school and didn't really notice how much until I read that letter. It felt like a weight was off my insides. If anyone had seen me that day, I was bright and chipper, and bouncing all over. I was that glad to finally know. I won't deny that I was a little bummed because I wasn't going to live with my sister and have good times, but I was able to live with that. And that's not all. The rejection was like a wake up call to my writing, which had been sitting dormant for a long while. Suddenly I got out my red pen and went bonkers on the draft. If Carbondale rejected me, then there were only two left, and they could easily do the same. A part of me expected it really, so I started right then and there to get back into what I've been leaving on the back burner, something I am not exactly happy about. All this stuff about getting into graduate school in order to get a job as a creative writing teacher in order to make sufficient enough dough to live on has never been my life's aspiration. That was more of a survival plan. But I can survive without it. I have to. All that was pushing away what I wanted to do most - I wonder now how much it would distract me from my true life goal. My focus has shifted and a tiny part of me thought, "Well, looks like God has other plans for me." You all know I'm not overly religious (but I'm not atheist either), but I do wonder sometimes.

After getting the final rejection today (or I guess, techinically, yesterday), it seemed like the final barriers were down. I opened up old favorites I haven't visited in years and started making lists of places to send my work. I've been too wrapped up in school to do anything with them. Hell, I've even sent off material electronically already. I spent from around after 5ish until about 2 hours ago perusing online publications, listing things, planning ideas, what to send, to who, and when. I looked at my old "Attempts Made" file and noted how in 2002 and 2003 I sent out a total of 14 pieces to 12 different places. In 2004 and 2005 the total was a sad 8 (5 of which were a group of poems) to 4 places. And you know what? I only sent items to them because of my creative writing classes. The 2005 single submission only occurred because that was literally a requirement of the class.

As much as an MFA sounds good to tack on a resume, if I never get it, I don't mind. Like my sister said in her email to me today, "This sounds dumb, but in a way, I'm pretty jealous. You're done. No more school! " She was right. That's exactly how I felt.

So don't feel sad for me, I don't want your pity. Instead, tell me I rock and that you know I'll be published someday. Give me support in what I do. That makes me happier than anything.

Currently: Yay! Happy!

Daytime Fantasies

This post might weird you out, but then again, some of you might do the same things so who knows?

Anyway, now that I've given you the disclaimer, I was going to come back home from class, put all my junk away, and then just flop down on my bed and pass out. However, as I figured would probably happen, the cold air outside woke me up (some...well, enough) so that I know flopping right down on bed wouldn't get me anywhere.

So instead I've decided to blog about what I was thinking during my Philosophy class today, and I can do this because it does relate to writing (which is what I wanted to keep this blog restricted to).

There are times when I zone out during class (and I'm sure most of you do this too), and think about whatever I want. It can range from a lot of things. One day my black dragon is curling around Watterson Towers and I'm the only one he'll listen to. Other days I'll be walking in the quad and one of my bad guys (currently deceased though he may be written) will show up and kidnap my ass out of this world. That's usually the typical thought that snakes in. It doesn't even matter - the guy can be anyone. He'll show up and take me with him right then and there to his world (or technically, mine). It's never a girl - because I'm usually the girl. One facet of me anyway, but that's another blog for another day. And I'm not gonna have one of my other girls come and retrieve me. They're pretty much all based on someone else. No offense, but screw that. My boys rule. The only problem is that there is always a stipulation and I can't seem to get away from it. I always have to leave, right there, and I can't ever explain to anyone where I've gone, which really sucks because then my family would be all distraught, not knowing where I went, thinking I've been kidnapped and lying dead in a ditch somewhere when I'm really in some lavish bed in different clothing, eating something pleasant and...well that's if I'm with one guy...I'm not sure it would be so pleasant with the other. Heh, I might get thrown in a dungeon, but that's a whole other concept in itself (no, if you're thinking along the lines of kinky sex, for God's sake go to a church and confess to having a dirty, dirty mind. Sheesh.).

Anyway, that's one thing I think about. Now you can put your mind in the gutter because other times I'll be thinking about sex. I won't lie. It's true. Most of the time it's not me though. It usually revolves around a story, a couple of characters in whatever situation, good times and all that. Well, I guess I could say that I'm involved since I've already said that most of my female characters (main ones) are based on me or some characteristic of me. So in a sense it's not really the true me, just one side. But that's beside the point. It amuses me, to get to the basic point about all this daydreaming. Do you ever wonder (probably not, but now you will, haha) how many people are thinking about sex while in a class? I don't mean, "Man...I need to get some." No, no, not the fleeting thought, I mean having all out fantasies. It's good times. I suggest you try it sometime. Then again, I don't know how any of you people would handle it because for me it's all rather casual. I'm sort of writing as I fantasize, coming up with descriptions, hand placements, eyes, words, etc. etc. I usually have to rewind and do some editing. Add something in, change some lines there, continue on. Hahaha, now that I think about it, it's like I might as well be directing pornography. But it's good stuff, not that lame ass shit they crank out these days. Got that "real" quality in there, as much as it can be real seeing as it's just some random fantasy. No one would probably ever think it of me, which makes things even more amusing. They'd probably think I was totally zoning out or thinking of what I'd like to have for dinner later. Not that I don't sometimes.

Ironically enough, this stuff never gets written. Yeah. That's not to say I haven't ever written any of said scenes - I've written the same one twice, another as a gift to someone (that one was fuckin' hard by the way), and I think another just for kicks. I don't remember because the last time I wrote a scene was freshman year and that was the gift one. So if I fantasize as often as I do, why don't I write it out? Well for starters, I like to give my characters their privacy. Yes, I know that may sound dumb to you, but my characters aren't on the page to satisfy a reader's taste for sexual literature. And it really doesn't need to be in there. I imply it, and I feel that is enough. Secondly, I would strive for accuracy, and well, seeing as I've never hopped in the sack with anyone, one could say I wouldn't know what I was talking about. True, imagination is pretty handy, but in the long run I'm missing out on key items; scents, feelings, touch, etc. etc. I suppose I could write it and get it across, but at the same time it's a bit like describing say, the experience of eating ice cream when one has never had ice cream. Sure they could make it up, easy enough, but experience goes a long way.

That's not to say I'm about just go have sex though. And besides, I'm quite content with my fantasies as they are now. Hehe. XD


Currently: A Lil Tired and Dreamy

Muses

The muse is inherently female. If you start talking Greek muses, you'll get up to nine of them, all female. Even now, movies like Dogma and The Muse have female muses. And why not? It makes sense - there's nothing wrong with that.

And then there's me. My muses of the past several months have been male. Based upon one I get a new character, which usually spawns some female invention as well. The Phantom lead to Rosiel, who was given Cordelia. Kakashi lead to the detail sharpening of Malacai, who until then had been stuck in a sort of Cameron form from Dragonlance - one I did not like but was unsure how to fix. This lead to the sharpening of his brother Mordecai and from there the sharpening of Fiara. I guess I can't really attribute Dr. Beckett to musedom because he was not the main insipiration for Anna.

It's odd, but I never attribute my female characters to muses - I mean in the sense that their inspiration was thanks to a muse. I suppose I could, in which case the muse would be invisible, I would never really know it was there, and walla! the job would be done. I suppose that's the way a muse is supposed to work. To show up without the artist's knowledge, give him or her a eureka! moment and then float off. Not that I know muses actually float. Maybe I should just renege on the concept of the male muse and fall back to the description of Kakashi and the Phantom as mere inspirations. Maybe I am getting visits from muses - female ones - who then inspire me once my eyes hit one of the two men or certain music hits my ears. Actually I'll allow the music to be female muse inspired, the only exception perhaps the Phantom of the Opera soundtrack.

You might think I'm weird, pondering things like these, but then I guess you should be aware of me by now and my line of thinking. The thing is, I sort of want to keep this bloggy writing oriented. Even though I could mention other topics or lament over the same things as I have been - my lit professor says we write about things we don't understand in order to understand them, but I don't want to write certain things anymore for the simple fact that I will never understand them. Maybe I should just start taking quotes and babbling about them.

Anyway, old Greek men came up with all that mythology - so who's in charge? Zeus (man). And of course, who would give men inspirations? Women (duh). So in the end maybe the muses aren't even real enough to bother with. In which case, my muses are male and I win. Sha-zam. Haha.

Currently: Indifferent

Last Entry?!

Journal 14-2

Ah, last entry of the semester eh? How sad. Looks like I'll be on my own from now on. Maybe I'll stick to the idea of writing...maybe I'll sneak into your folder next semester if you're doing this class again and have different topics to write on, haha. But anyway, me, as a little plant? Have my tiny leaves unfolded and soaked up more sunlight than they were before?

How have I grown... Well, I will say that this class has given me more fuel for my writing flame, which was more like a pile of glowing embers at the time. Over Christmas I plan to go through Book #1 and do some red-penning. I went back into Book #2 and came up with some alternate ideas. I've been reading more books and picking up more vocabulary, and though I often try to do the same thing every class, I purposely challenged myself with certain projects for the very purpose of improving my writing. To be honest, Project 3 is going to be a pain in the ass, but I'm fine with that. After all, it was my idea.

My reading has led me to new ideas and words, and though much of that isn't present in my projects, it is in my notebook. Mostly for description, but a bit in style too. Starting sentences in a few ways I haven't done before - which is more or less just breaking me out of habits I've grown into. But before I ramble, I'll move on to the actual projects.

The first project has yet to be fully culminated. I submitted it to my online workshop and have responses so the final draft will be up soon (I'm going to go through them today). I think the best way I've improved is by learning from mistakes - taking on writing projects that are challenging me and if I do something that doesn't work I have to find out a way to do it better. In Project 2 I've finally had the chance to find ways of making older poems better and worked with punctuation more. I'm still not the best when it comes to puncutation, but having been nudged to use it more, I've looked into its use. For project 3, well, to be honest I have yet to find out how that will be, but I'd like to think that the experimentation will challenge me to open up to a different style of writing entirely. Emulation of something rather old will be hard. I'll soon see how well I handle it.

It's been the little things that have given me growth. I'm still a little seedling, and for the most part, the same. No blooms yet - just a little green shoot drinking in all I can, hoping that one day I'll have enough nourishment to show just how beautiful I am.

Currently: Hiding Inside Someone's Beautiful Dream

Project 2

Journal 14-1

My second writing project was slow. Probably - no - definitely because of me. I couldn't really get into the swing of things, no matter how much I tried (so it seemed). I knew what I wanted to say, what I wanted to convey, but it just never came out right and no amount of editing seems to help.

Poetry is hard. Of course, I knew that. I haven't written poetry in a long while. After my poetry creative writing class, my view on poetry has been off...or skewed...or something. Poetry has sort of turned into art (I mean the visual type). There are canvasses people simply splat paint onto and call it art and get paid hundreds, even thousands for them. Then there are people like me who don't believe it is art and wish for the days when people actually put time and effort into their work and had skill to do it. My point is this: when I was in my poetry class, we read some things that made absolutely no sense to me. I still have the book because of the reason that it boggles me. Dr. Lamonica mentioned to me that poems should make sense to the reader in some form, but the poems I read? Nothing. I simply read them and think, "....Ok." Maybe I'm just not into the "new" stuff - I'll admit that I miss the days of Shakespeare and Christopher Marlowe and William Blake.

Anyway, poetry isn't anything new to me. But because of all the differences and influences within poetry I find myself unable to stick to one style I feel I can get behind. Maybe I should just say "screw you" to all those modern poets out there who insist upon whitespace in various locations, weird topics, the absence of punctuation, and things like that. Either way, when getting reviews on my poems, I didn't get much at all, so then I was really left in the dust. I don't know, audience-wise, what is "good" or what I could work on. All I have are instructor responses, and though highly valued, most mention things I was going to do anyway (i.e. add punctuation). So I just toyed with things until I figured they were good enough (for me anyway) and let them go. I think so far in all cases that's been my biggest issue - only having one to three responses. I understand the why, but there was no Critters for me to go to with poetry. Ah well.

At least I got to bring some of my really old poems out of the basement and into the light and got to know that, from those that responded, they weren't that bad.


Currently: Tired

The Human Soul?

Journal 13-1

“The writer is the engineer of the human soul.” -Joseph Stalin

...I don't like that word; "engineer." Not with "human soul" right next to it. I always think of industry, black smoke, metal, and ugly things with engineer. Just mechanical non-feeling things.

But in a way, I suppose. People always tend to look to artists and those in "artistic" fields to be the tellers of soul. We search for the words and emotions, artists (such as painters and sculptors) search for visual or 3D styles and emotions. Not that emotion is the essential part of soul.

In Writing Down the Bones there's a part where Goldberg mentions that writers are a bit dumb - but only for the reason that people around us think so. For example, I'll be outside and stare at a crimson, autumn leaf and admire all its darker veins, the fact that it's not green anymore, what makes it different from the others, and as a whole, the sheer beauty of it all. My friend Sandra, well, she would just think I'm weird, give me a "You're weird" look, and move on. I'm not saying that writers are the only ones to appreciate certain things, but there are times when we just look at the world around us with different eyes, keener eyes, eyes that look for the little things, details others might miss. Once on a writer's crawl on the quad I noticed a praying mantis, the poor thing was flattened on the sidewalk. Dozens of people never noticed - I wonder if anyone else ever did. The world is our stage - we use it and write about it even if we're not writing about it directly. All things, human and not, are utilized. I write fantasy, but I take things from my reality and change them into something else for people to fall into.

But really, we can only do so much. We can see and hear the Light and Sound, but we can't always touch it. Heheh. We can only make somewhat educated guesses and go from there. We do our best and others look to us for that best. I can only give you so much of my soul, and maybe some of yours, but in the end you've got to do your own looking. Besides, that little sparkle is so far beyond a page with tiny symbols - words can only go so far. The rest is something else.


Currently: Ugh, It's Just One of Those Days.

Journal X-X

DAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!

A Couple of Bones

Journal 12-1

Some of the important things she has to say about writing eh? Well, it's not much different from other things I've heard, but here we go:

~Try writing in a place different now and then in order to see things with new perspective.
~Just write, just write, just write.
~Pay attention to detail, but don't get psychotic about it.
~Read, read, read.
~Listen, listen, listen.
~Look for things other people might not notice; be aware of everything, sight, smell, taste, touch, sound and soak it all up the way dogs and cats do.
~Go beyond; when you feel like you're running out of things to say and the piece can come to an end, keep it going - take the 11th minute.
~Find a good writing medium (even though she demands pens and I will never give in to them)
~Even if you don't think you have support, just remember that you have air in your lungs and earth to stand on. You're alive - that's support enough.
~Even if your mind is blank, write, even if it is garbage.
~Don't try too hard to make a fancy writing place for yourself, otherwise you might be more into the place than your writing or feel inclined to write well when that's not always possible.
~Be able to take compliments; "As human beings, we suffer enough as it is."
~Beware of the editor inside you and don't always let that side take over while you write.
~Go back and reread what you've written.
~Writers do like money; artists do like to eat.
~Don't be afraid to experiment.
~Don't force yourself to write something you don't want to (i.e. if you're into poetry, don't make yourself write a novel).
~Make sure the notebook you have you'll be able to write in (if it's super fancy - kinda like the room - you might feel inclined to write good things in it, which isn't always possible)
~Verbs rock out.

Ok, time to sign off!

Currently: Happy

Haiku

Journal 11-3

Three haiku - can you tell me what they're about? ^_~

Thousands of pages
Billions of little letters
One splendid story


So many people
All are a part of my mind
What chapter is next?

Keyboard and a screen?
Does not compute in my mind
Pencils are my keys

Arigatoo gozaimasu.

Currenly: Bright-eyed and Bushy-tailed

Damn I Love being a Writer

Journal 11-2

“A writer is somebody for whom writing is more difficult than it is for other people.” -Thomas Mann

Yes. In a way. Granted, when we get on a roll things are all sugar and spice and singing birds and you want to laugh and dance around. Like for me for most of book #1. It was going splendidly. Then for some reason I took a break or just allowed a lapse of time to sneak in. When I went back to it I didn't have the same stride and went from daisies and lollipops to the other side of writing. The one where we sit and stare at a blank page and think, "This fucking sucks."

Sure, there are people out there who claim, "I can't write," and so they don't. That's pretty simple if you ask me. I think the difference lies in caring. Those people who say they can't write and don't both just don't care. To be honest I'm confusing myself a little. Let me think.

A writer gives a damn about their work, their characters, their setting, time, why this character does this, and that character does that. They care about all the little things in between. They have to play God for a little while and it can be exhausting sometimes, or just get them to the point where they don't want to do it anymore. There are people out there who might write, and think it's hard because they agonize over correct spelling, grammar, punctuation, and technical details. That's what a lot of people think writing is - the technical aspect. The rest of us know it's more than that. They're looking at the tools - the silverware. We're looking at the meat and potatoes. We just use the silverware to get to something delicious. Writers consider everything when they work, how people will view it, how the author would like them to view it, why the antagonist is the bastard he/she/it is, what drives the protagonist, and so many other things. What words to use that would be most effective. To tag dialogue or not. Italicize or no? How deep to go into a mind, setting, etc. And this is just for fiction. Poetry is a whole other ballgame, but it's just as rough.

I remember during high school, everyone knew I was working on a book. For some reason I think it inspired other people to do the same. I don't know why. But my best guy friend Coby and my older sister Stacey decided to write books too. Now? Well, Coby gave up. That's another point I think works. I don't know if Mann meant writing as a process or everything it entails, but I know that a lot of writers can't give up writing. God knows I can't. I never will. As sucky as it can be sometimes, it's so important to me I can't abandon it. It's easy to give up. It's a lot harder to keep on going. I don't meant to imply that writing is always hard, but in the history of man, it's usually been a lot easier to just give up instead of forging ahead.

As for Stacey, well, initially she couldn't even write school papers well. I'm a self-taught writer (which a part of me still doesn't understand how that happened), and she would send her papers to our dad and me to look over and edit. But when she started working on her little book, which, much to my humble joy, uses my work as a base, she gradually grew much better. I'm sure college helped a lot, but I don't know for sure. I'd have to ask. But I do think she got a taste of what it's like to be me while she worked on her bit. She didn't want to work on parts that were boring, had to work around plots and dialogue and figure out who was going to be what, and all the other goodies that come with writing fiction. Sometimes when she was bored I would suggest she should work on her book. Heheh. She didn't really want to. It wasn't a negative, "Ugh, no," but more of that writer, "Yeah I should...but man...that means I have to sit down and write," type of feeling. I thought it was funny and always grinned when she declined because I knew why. Often she wrote when the feeling struck her. Writing is hard for writers because we have to write even without the muse, and that can be a real struggle.

And it's time for me to do just that.

Currently: Happy

Cemetary Crawling

Journal 11-1

Haha. I knew this entry was going to be about the crawl in the cemetary.

It was a lovely day. Gorgeous in fact. It was so nice and pleasant it kind of took away the somber mood I was expecting to encounter there. Instead of being presented with the thought of sheer death and decay (which I think would have happened to a certain degree had the weather been cloudy and gray), I thought of rested souls sleeping peacefully, no one truly alone because they are surrounded by so many others. Flowers left by love, and the squirrels, those crazy squirrels.

Aside from the sunshine and happy fall leaves drifting around me in gold and orange and red, it was the squirrels that distracted me the most. They're not normal squirrels. I wrote about them instead of what I had expected to write about (which was nothing in particular, just a few vague ideas, but with the same feeling of quietness and somberness). They kept fussing at me and I could hear them chewing on nuts and whatever other snacks squirrels chew on. Several would just stare at me from their perch on a branch or from their upside-down position on the side of a tree. A lot of times I got squeaked at. At one point I thought I saw one asleep on his little broken branch and was making noises due to a dream. I was wrong. He was just still and huffing at me even though I was still far off at the time and had only come closer to see if he was indeed talking in his sleep.

But anyway, I think if the weather had been grayer and the squirrels more normal and subdued (maybe they're just not used to humans), I would have had something more interesting because I was (and always have been) intrigued by vaults and above ground tombs people decide to lay in as opposed to going into the ground. That's how I want to be when I die - placed on a bier in a tomb like a hero. I decided this long ago.

Either way, I enjoyed it. To be honest, that's the first time I've ever stepped foot in a cemetary. I liked it.

Currently: Comfy

How Many Times Will I Repeat Myself?

Journal 10-2

Haha. I think I've said the same things already about these books in relation to my writing. But, considering how I think usually I've just mentioned them in passing (or as I ramble), I'll go into full on detail this time around due to the question.

Breathing In, Breathing Out hasn't had much influence on me. Granted, I was excited to see that I do pretty much everything he does in his notebook and encourages others to do, but once I realized that I was already on the right path (which I was sure I was on anyway), there wasn't much else for me to soak up. It was a good book, but I've been there, still doing that, so there wasn't much influence.

Writing Down the Bones hasn't done too much either. She just presents ideas, some of which I take offense at - okay, maybe I don't exactly take offense, but I get defensive. Like the comment she made about pencils being slow and how one should find a good pen (even though she claims hers is fast, but it leaks). I hate pens. I've always used a pencil. I always will use a pencil. It's not up for debate. And it's not slow at all. Maybe she was living in the time when mechanical pencils weren't the thing to have. Then it would make more sense. Anyway, there are a few good ideas in there, but nothing has hit me.

However, I think if you put the two together, not what they say, but what they represent gave me a definitive push. That and the fact that I've been doing a lot of reading this semester, both in class and outside of class. Finally near the end of the week at one point all I wanted to do was write. So I pushed my homework out of my way as much as possible and poured over my notebooks (yes, plural). I wrote and wrote until finally I had though I lost my muse. When I found myself surrounded by notebooks and books and books about writing and pencils and pens that I actually like, I cracked and just had to write more. It was a burst of, well, something. A veritable writing spree. And when I'm finished with all this grad school stuff, I'm going to jump back on it again.

I've simply had everything I believe in reinforced is all. Knowing that I do similiar things to other writers make me proud because it means I'm not just some goof who writes in a notebook all the time, I am making progress whether or not I know it, and lapses happen. The books couldn't have done it alone though. With the help of music and various forms of entertainment (which lead to the sudden appearance of muses), I've been pushed along the edges. Not much mention of muses have been made in these books. I think they're being underestimated. I'm not saying that a writer should wait for a muse before getting to work, but when you do find yourself inthe presence of one, well then use it for goodness sakes! Use it until it can't be used anymore and has to go back to muse haven to replenish itself. I've had that happen twice (or almost twice) already. The Phantom just about passed out (haha) and Kakashi's lookin' pretty weak. Poor guy. It's easy to tell who and when each muse appeared by what I've written in my notebook.

Hehe. Delicious.

Currently: Happy

Project 1 => Project 2

Journal 10-1

Project 2 is working a little differently from Project 1. Because it's poetry, it's going to take a little more time and thought than just pumping out a draft of something. I know that sounds bad, like I don't consider my prose when I'm working on it, though I actually do (sometimes more than I should I think), but prose flows a little easier; it can be planned and all you need are the details. Things like that. Poetry, well, poetry takes more time for me, especially if I sit down with the purpose of writing poetry as opposed to letting it be spontaneous. But spontaneous isn't always the way to go. Besides, I haven't been spontaneous for a while now soo...

Project 2 is going to be harder to edit too. Editing poetry always seems funny. There are times when the reader has good points and suggestions, and there are other times when I just don't want to change what I have because I feel it loses something I wanted to say. I'm wondering how to go about questioning my group. Maybe I'll ask for some of their interpretations just to see if the poem is going in the right direction.

I guess maybe I'll go work on it now...

Currently: Somewhere Between Comfy and Dreamy

Oh The Irony...

Journal 9-3

The one day you finally decide to grant us a free write and I'm not feeling much of anything. There have been days in the past where I would have willingly spilled my guts due to frustration or sheer bright-eyed-bushy-tailedness, but today I'm pretty "meh."

But, because it is me, I'm sure I'll be able to ramble enough to get onto one specific topic and then go all out. After all, it's what I do.

Let's start with last night, shall we? Good times.

Actually, that's a lie. Last night was not good times. In fact, last night I was freaking out because of all this graduate school stuff. I felt like I was stuck. There were things I needed to do, but essentially I was stuck because I didn't know how to do them or just what to do with them. It was weird. Like one of those days where you have a list of things to do, and in all reality it's not that hard to get started, but there are just so many of them, little and big, that you don't know where to begin or how you'll finish. What made things really stupid is that at one point I flopped down on my bed at around 7 (or was it 9?) and laid there muttering to myself.

"It feels like I don't have enough time. But that's stupid because I totally have plenty of time. I could do stuff right now..."

But did I do anything? No. I was too wound up, too stressed to get anything accomplished efficiently, and if I can't do something efficiently, then I don't want to do it at all. I don't like half-assing stuff if I can help it. So finally I opted for something more relaxing.

I painted my nails. They're quite lovely too, all decked out in their French manicure glory. It was nice. And while I did that, I reread some of my book (#2) and thought about things I needed to change in it. I did have an inspiration at one point and sat there typing, nails wet with little white strips over them to keep the tip-paint at bay. I had to change the manner in which Akira had her memory blocked. Instead of giving Kaiton the ability to play with minds (which in truth, makes no sense), I busted out an old idea used ealier (which will be ironic because later on I'm going to remove it), in which Kaiton uses a chemical to get her into more of a berserker rage. Anyway, I had him pump her full of the stuff instead. It makes more sense and is a lot more fun.

I read some more. Used the Track Changes to keep tabs on what I did and eventually saved it as a revised version. It's not all revised, I'll have to go through that baby several times before it's the way it should be, but hey, .01% is a start right? I did look at it in that book view though. that was fun. Near 500 pages of goodness (single-spaced mind you!). That gets me excited.

*sigh*

What else?

I'm still concerned about graduate school. I don't know what my sister had to send in, but I have to send in writing samples. My problem? I don't know what to send. I mean, I understand what I need to send (poems, fiction, etc.), but out of my material, what do I send? The age old question of what they want is plaguing me. The issue of what these people consider "real" writing and what they don't eats at me. I suppose I'll just have to sift through and find a variety. A novel chapter here, a short story there, a bit of creative nonfiction...do they want is single-spaced or double spaced? Probably double-spaced. Which kind of sucks in a way because then that means I actually get to send less material than if it were single-spaced. Hmph. I still need to get my statement of purpose ready. Ugh.

I guess I should go back to work on my portfolio now. Time to get crackin'!

Currently: Determined

Diamante Poem = Randomness

Journal 9-2

Not something I was expecting, but here I go:

Color Orb

eyes

green, blue

revealing, sparkling, searching

worth so much and yet taken for granted-

shining, hiding, forming

red, golden

jewels

And good times were had by all. =P

Currently: Comfy

*snort*

Journal 9-1

As the title implies, I've done little. I'll admit it. True, I have my discovery draft, and I do have lists of poems to work on and polish up (only using a couple out of 15), and have things planned out, but I have yet to write anything new.

Poetry-wise that is.

However I have been meeting with a new muse who has, to be blunt, been rocking my world. No, don't be disgusting, I don't have a new boyfriend or anything like that. I get different muses here and there, sometimes I can identify them, other times I can't. But this one I know and he's been very good to me. My notebook has since abandoned the numbered entries (considering I'm way past the grade-A mark anyway) and gone back to 3-asterisk divisions as is my normal routine. At the end of the semester I'll count up the different sections into a total for you, but that is by no means the correct number based upon your "entry" definition. In fact it's probably going to be less.

But no, I haven't been working on any new poetry. I haven't been in the mood, and even though I know it's not necessary to be in a mood to work on poetry, I've just been way into other aspects of my writings world. But don't worry, I'll get to them. It's not like I dispise them or anything, they're just not my top priority right now...which is kind of ironic. You'd think that my project would be the top priority when in fact my notebook and book are. Yes, my book is making it's comeback finally, which is very good. I spent all weekend, starting after my book group meeting, writing on and off, this and that, music on and off and feeling around in the dark for ideas I can use and mold into something beautiful.

I'm rambling. I always ramble. I'm in a violent mood today actually. More violent than on the sharingan day. Anyway, I don't have any questions for my group. Maybe just what they think of my theme. But actually even if they think it sucks, I don't give a shit. Because it's what I want to write, and if they dont' like it, it doesn't matter because they're not my real audience anyway. But I doubt that will be the case.

...I think I'll sit outside with my muse today.

Kakashi....watashi wa anata to ikitai desu....

Currently: Violent