The Satisfaction of Completion

Words cannot describe the sensation of finishing the story line you have been working years upon. It’s not so much that a weight has been lifted off your shoulders, more that you are that step closer to completing something you have wanted to do so for as long as you can remember. Of course this feeling not only relates to novels but pieces of art, a portfolio, anything.

I have chosen to focus on writing as this is what I find most pleasure and satisfaction in. Don’t get me wrong, I absolutely love music and take great joy in playing the violin, but there is nothing better than sitting down at your computer and letting the creative energies flow. I can usually see the story unfolding in front of me. I love to take it down and put order to the colourful worlds I imagine. I know several wonderful people who love to do the same and are getting that much closer to the feeling I am now experiencing. I wish them all the luck in the World with it.

Do you know where I am coming from? Have you recently finished something and are just now perfecting it?

I know I still have a lot of work to do; editing, proof reading and maybe padding out, but I am so very happy at the moment that I don’t think anything could top this. My next intention was inspired by my friend Jex and I may put a synopsis of the novel on here but will check it a million times first.

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Passion: Underrated or Over Used??

Can you ever have too much passion in your life? We always see it as such a positive emotion to have about your work (and life), be it writing, playing an instrument or anything else. If you have a love for what you do, surely the creative energies will simply flow; but what if too much passion isn’t such a good thing?

I was recently having a conversation about writing with my friend and fellow author Jex (mentioned in the pervious post) and we fell onto the subject of passion. I mentioned that what I admired about her work is she puts so much effort and love of the craft into every piece that you can really see the story unfolding in front of you. She replied that she felt like she waffled too much as the story runs away with her (she has never waffled), much as it has done to many of us.

I can understand her point though. If you find a part of the story you love you tend to run with it and try to get across to the reader your pure pleasure in the writing but you can risk losing the reader should you get too carried away, but it’s so hard to reign in the passion. As writers we need to focus, combining the passion with structure, story and love for everything written and I like to think that Jex, our writer friends, and myself pull this off well without sacrificing anything.

As both a singer and a musician you have no idea how hard it is to say that.

What do you think?

That *Ping* Moment

I’ve been wondering recently where inspiration for writing comes from. It must be different for each person. Does it slowly filter into your subconscious like treacle from a tin, or does it hit you sqaure in the stomach; forcefully, aggressively, until you have your *ping* moment? They both have to be equally effective as creativity can come from anything and create masterpieces.

I think I’m a treacle person. I can have a vague notion for a story; a saying, a type of character, a major incident; and will wait for it to come to me. I tend to nurture inspiration with a notebook, music and incense; something soft to create a relaxing atmosphere where the ideas can flow. Doing this allows my mind to open and then I know I’m writing the best I can, all the while developing the story along the way. I wish I was like my wonderful friend Jex (check out her blog, she is awesome – http://jcollyer.wordpress.com/ XD) who had her *ping* moment the other week. An exceptional idea for a story came to her in her dream and though she is currently concentrating on her current novel, I know when she starts on this one it will be great. It goes without saying, each writer works differently and all works cannot be compared in the same light. What one fantasy writer may indulge in, another historical writer may see as uneccesary.

For the novel I’m writing now, the Inspiration came merely from one sentence. I’m writing about the Angel of Death and I got the idea solely from, ‘I am the Angel of Death. The time of purification is at hand.’ From that came multiples characters, so much lore to play with and multiple worlds to develop. It’s been interesting to see where the story line has taken me and how it’s developed my protagonist but I hope Inspiration hits me for the ending. I’m not to far off now and would love it to be action filled and breath taking at the same time. In itself I have been debating whether to post the opening chapters of my novel on here but need some inspirational editing before I do.

How do you find inspiration? How does it develop you and your writing? Please let me know.

You

This one was written for someone who was my friend for years. She was a happy, confident woman who always inspired me to greater things. I miss her.

You

Tomorrow I would like to see

Rainbows spring forth from your eyes

A smile that tells us what we know, Stars

Cannot compare to

You.

 

Look up to see white clouds hover

Over mortal life’s eternal grace and

Understand that you and

I are bound through

Shimmers of an

Eternal bond

 

Can Heaven know your true worth?

Of this there is no doubt.

Where Angels tread is not on high, they

Are here whenever I look at you.

Never have I ever known a bigger part of my heart.

Men!

This was another stab at poetry a while back. I was bitterly cynical at the time and just broken up from my very first boyfriend. Enjoy… hopefully.

Men!

Have you ever wondered why
men are always needed?
All they ever do is lie
and do not ever attempt to try
to understand the reason why
we just feel impeded.
Have you ever wondered why
men are always needed?

Echo

I dabbled in poetry for a while years ago and found that my interest in it didn’t out do my love for novel writing. They were ok but not great. I always had an interest in greek myth as it was rampant with imagination and colourful description. This is my take below…

Echo

Look at me.
Your golden locks fall forward as you stare at
your one true love,
that rippling façade which has your eye.

Look at me.
You gently touch that shimmering form,
your fingers meeting his,
caressing that familiar cheek.

Look at me.
I watch you daily,
staring into that watery void,
longing for that one which you cannot have.

Look at me.
Why can’t I tell you?
Why can’t I say those words that I long to?
“I love you.”

Look at me.
You moved forward,
gently reaching for that beloved nymph as
you utter those words, “Look at me.”

Look at me.
Where are you?
Nothing remains but a splash on the surface.
You and your love are gone.

Look at me.
I’m alone.
You don’t sit by my side anymore.
I am here remembering your words.

Look at me.
Nothing remains but my tumultuous song,
my dirge of your voice.
Not even I am here.

Look at me.
Look at me,
my Narcissus,
look at me.