Had the day off in which all I accomplished was doing my laundry (yes it remains unfolded in the basket) and I went disc golfing with Paul. And about halfway through the course I figured out how to underhand. Or side-armed? And the distance/accuracy is amazingly better than my normal frisbee throw. So to say the least I'm pretty hyped about playing more this spring/summer!
As far as writing... I think I've realized that I've been trying to write to please other people. Focusing on them liking it. So in a sense I guess you could say I've been trying to write something I think would sell... And that is something someone should never do. Definitely something I've always told myself I would never do. I'm mildly upset with myself now. But I guess it was a good thing to realize it. This is something I need to do for myself and not everyone else. I think I'm going to leave a little snippet of what I've written at the end of this post.
Before I wrap it up I have another question for writers... How/when did you get your inspiration for your writings?
Mine came to me roughly three years ago while I was living out in Colorado. I was on lunch break at work and was sitting in the locker room. I had always carried a spiral bound notebook with me at work. Randomly I take it out and start writing "______ the butcher's apprentice...." I actually drew a line as I couldn't think of a name. Eventually the name Wolt formed in my brain. So I went back and filled it in "Wolt, the butcher's apprentice..." And that was the start of the story. I've made a coulpe rough outlines. Scrapped them. Made another. Tried writing in multiple notebooks, online, on a computer, even an alphasmart I bought. But after three years I'm still plucking away at trying to figure out who Wolt is and what his story is...
I think I may have posted this pic as my very first post but I feel it's appropriate to add here. As this is the little spiral memo pad I started writing in three years ago. I still have it somewhere. Dirty, ripped, bent, with pages falling out and haphazardly tucked back in. But this little guy has made it the whole way. Across the country and through a lot of abuse.
Edit: I totally forgot I was gonna put some of my writing at the end. Hehe opps!
Wolt entered the tavern, glad to finally escape the cold. He glanced around taking in the other occupants. There weren't many. A couple of gruff looking men sat at the bar. A few more spread through out the building at various tables. Wolt chose a small round table in a shadowy corner. The barmaid approached him as he sat.
"What will you be having tonight?" the woman asked.
"Just a mug of ale will be fine," Wolt replied with a smile.
The maid left and was back in a minute carrying a pewter tankard of foaming ale. Wolt set a gold piece on the table, which the maid took and with a nod continued to make her rounds of the tavern. Wolt sipped his ice cold ale and waited for the man who was to meet him here.
Wolt sat waiting for his friend. His mind started to wander. First he thought of his grandmother. Then of his adventures up to this point of his life. Then of the mayor's daughter. As he was wondering how this meeting was going to change his life the tavern door swung open and a tall man entered. A long dark hooded cloak hung from his shoulders. With a wave of his hands the hood was flung back and a head of long dark hair was revealed. He had a fair face graced by bright green eyes.
The stranger swung his head from side to side, looking for someone.
"Wolt!" the stranger yelled, looking flustered. The force behind the man's words make Wolt jump straight up. Fear threatened to overtake him. The man ran through the bar and grabbed Wolt by the arm.
"We have to go. Now!" he whispered harshly, "I picked up a tail when I entered the city. Follow me."
The man led Wolt toward the bar. With a nod the man behind it rolled a keg from out of the corner revealing a trapdoor. The barkeep grabbed the small iron ring on the door and with a grunt the door swung open revealing a dark staircase.
"This way," the stranger whispered. The darkness threatened to overwhelm Wolt. "Come on boy! We haven't the time to lose!" Wolt shook away his fears and descended the old wooden stairs. Each one creaking loudly, protesting his weight. Setting his foot off the last step the thin stream of light from above was cut off as the barkeep shut the trap door and placed the keg back in place. From up above Wolt heard a loud crash.
"Hurry," the man urged, "it won't be long before they learn where we went. Not everyone in that tavern is friendly to us."
"Who are you?" Wolt asked, "And who is chasing us? I've done nothing wrong."
"None of that will matter if we can't escape them. Hurry."
Wolt had no choice but to follow the mysterious man. With one last look up toward the trap door Wolt hurried after the stranger, hoping that he wasn't being led to his death. They followed the dim, musty passage for what seemed like an eternity to Wolt. At the end they came to a dead end. Wolt almost panicked when the man pulled a bundle from under his cloak. Thinking this had all been a plan to lure him away from the crowded tavern. An easy kill for anyone interested in doing so. Unfolding the bundle the man revealed several foot long pieces of wood. With a practiced hand he put the pieces together forming a six foot long staff. On the end he placed the pendant from his necklace. The pendant was in the shape of a dragon curled around a ruby. The ruby was made to look like fire spewing from the dragon’s mouth.
With the pendant end of the staff the man traced a large square on the stone wall. Wolt watched in wonder ad a white like stayed behind on the wall. At first it glowed faintly, but the man had started to chant in a low voice. It seemed he was speaking in a different language. The white line started to glow brightly and suddenly the wall turned into a wooden door. The same dragon symbol carved into the wood.
"Hurry," the man whispered, "Through here." He ushered Wolt through the door and closed it behind them.
Wolt glanced around himself in wonder.
"Where are we?" He had never been so awed in his entire life. The room they had entered was enormous. The walls were flat and polished black stone. Though they were black the walls shined with an inner glow, illuminating the rooms. Strange writings were carved into the stone in a language that Wolt couldn't begin to understand.
"Where. . . ," Wolt stammered, "where are we?"
The stranger turned toward him. "This is the great land of Seron. This is another world Wolt."
"Another world?" Wolt asked incredulously, "how is that possible? Aren't we still in Belthany?"
"Magic Wolt, magic," the stranger replied.
"Magic? But how can it take us to a different world? From what I read in the book it only works in our world," Wolt replied remembering what he had read.
"And that it does," the stranger answered, "THIS is our world."
How do I find my inspiration? I don't. It comes to me. (Just not as often as I'd like. lol) If I try to create a new story or force a storyline, it's doomed from the beginning for me. The story I'm working on now and a couple of others I've put on the backburner just "come" to me. I'm really not sure how to say it. It can happen any time, any place, and all of a sudden it's almost as though I hear a character's voice or see their face or see the tiniest snippet of a scene, and all of a sudden I know that in time, the rest of the story will come. I can't control the inspiration, only the time I put into the work. I've found that sometimes the more time I put in, the more often inspiration comes, so it tends to pay off.
ReplyDeleteAnd hooray for your realization! It's a frustrating one, to be sure, but once you realize you have to write for YOURSELF and no one else, writing will begin to become a bit easier and definitely more enjoyable. So congratulations for taking that step. =)
As for Wolt...3 years? Don't worry. You'll get his story when he's ready to tell it to you. The one I finally started working on in November has been rolling about in my head for nearly 8 years. I've written little snippets and partial rough drafts, but always kind of halfheartedly. It wasn't what I wanted. Now it is. I'm finally at a point where mentally I'm ready to write it, and apparently my characters are ready to tell it. If Wolt's story is meant to be told, set aside time to scribble and listen for him, and when he's ready...he'll tell you the whole thing. =)