February, 2010

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The Importance of Ideas.

Sunday, February 28th, 2010

Okay so I haven’t started carrying around a little notebook, as I’ve heard a lot of other writers do. But when a great idea dawns on me I repeat it over and over in my head until I am certain that I remember it and when I put myself in front of the computer, I write it down in the notepad. This is not something I recommend though, because when notepad gets closed because windows insists on restarting every now and then for “security updates”, and notepad doesn’t restore :( So I’ve lost a few of the less memorable ideas along the way. But the defining ideas that affect the way I think of a story remain.

Actually I’m going to find an awesome notebook and buy it. I have to start thinking practically instead of the road of least effort. And if you have also been somewhat of an” idea-book” skeptic, I will let you know how it goes. Anyway what I really wanted to talk about was the importance of a great idea, something intriguing that even with crap writing shines through and makes it bearable. It is no doubt the combination of such an idea with decent or better writing that makes a good book. And instead of focusing on the originality of the idea, (even if it has been done before you can still do it better right? ) focus on the quality of the idea and how interesting you can make it.

And even if someone tells you it’s bad, if you like it someone else probably will to, and if nobody likes it… well you can credit yourself with being unique in your tastes. Even so try to make sure the idea is something within the boundaries of acceptability for at least part of an audience.  And of course, do not underestimate how much professional feedback can help you on the way to perfecting not only your idea, but your entire story. Therefore it is imperative that you find a way to communicate with writers within your genre.

That’s it for now, well take care and keep on writing.

Writing is a socially acceptable form of schizophrenia.”  – E.L. Doctorow

Short Story – Seeking The Calm – Part 1

Saturday, February 27th, 2010

“To think you can smell it from the other side of town, it must be a huge one this time…” I said, commenting on the faint scent of scorched wood. I was standing on my friend’s porch staring at the 7th case of arson that month. “The fires so far have been contained, none spreading beyond a single house. Does this mean that it’s a different perpetrator, or just that he’s escalated due to some sort of perverted need?” He still lived with his parents, in a luxurious house on the western hillside.

Carl stared at me. “You’ve been watching too much ‘Criminal Minds’ dude. Moreover why are you so interested in these fires? You should really find yourself a better hobby, a girlfriend even.” he said, adding a wink for the last part. Why I’m interested? I thought, bringing forth a faint grin. It should be obvious you idiot, I’ve always had an interest in these things. Ever since I was a kid I had been interested in crime, but also in fire itself and the calming effect it had on me. “Girlfriend eh? Those kinds of relationships always go down the drain though, so in the end a waste of time huh? Just like this…” I said, staring at the rising smoke.
“Geez. You sound like an old man already, stop thinking and live some, man.”
“No thanks. Thinking is something I like to do after all… man. Anyway I’ll head home, time to make dinner, I’m starved.” I said as I walked over the grass and out the gate. I barely heard him say “See ya.” just as I left.

But I was not hungry. Nor did I have any noticeable desire to eat anything. At that moment; the smoke had my complete attention. Not only did I need to see the fires, but also find the person behind them. The sidewalk rang with every step I took, announcing my arrival to the people nearby. However I took no notice, I did not have the time to soften my step, I didn’t have the time to be considerate. After all, if the fires were out by the time I got there, the trip would be for naught. All I could do was hope the firemen failed to extinguish the fires, that, and hurry.

Without noticing it I had started running, after all catching a bus in the middle of the afternoon would be nothing less than a miracle, and hardly faster than walking anyway. Racing past people and ignoring their indignant stares. I could feel my lounges protesting and inevitably I started coughing. The fires were close, and I noticed that the firemen were keeping their distance, most likely caused by a lack of interest I concluded. Why should they risk their lives for a few abandoned buildings? I thought, quick to accept their  choice.

When I finally observed the flames, time stopped. Unpredictable dancing shining brilliantly, chaos itself embodied in the hungry flames. I felt full, and calm. Then I realized… the perpetrator did not do this for a rush, nor to rebel.

This was his art.