When I listened to this song for the first time, it nearly startled me
This is the soundtrack to my dreams
I'd never heard this until today
But it gives me an eerie feeling
And that's because it's familiar
Remotely.
Monday, October 15, 2012
NaNo-ness
I'm kind of stuck here. I want to write for the annual NaNoWriMo (National Novel Writer's Month). But as of late, I have pretty much turned m' back on the attempt of novel writing. Yeah, I'll write in a blog, but writing books?? Psh. Kismint still has a hard time trying to write three measly paragraphs.
But NaNo is a chance. These crazy people literally encourage the imprisonment of your inner editor (for a month).
To be honest, I really wouldn't care about book writing---if it weren't for one annoying little thing.
My head is a saga-creating machine. There is not a moment when my brain doesn't have something it's juicing up.
I have a library full of stories and a circus full of people in there (to my surprise, it happens to hold an amazing amount of capacity). Creating things is the way I function and entertain myself. It's just a thing about me.
If I were to do a NaNo this year I'd set an exceedingly small goal for myself. Most people go with the intention of writing about 50,000 words in 30 days.
Yeah.
Well I'm not most people. And that doesn't really work for me. It takes me hours to write five hundred words. I don't have enough time to write more than triple that every day ON TOP of (increasingly piled up) school work, house work, and the Thanksgiving festivities that come with November.
Small goals aren't bad. Maybe a short story will work. I really just want to type out the words "THE END" on something. That's all. That's it. I want a finished work of jumbly-mumbly. Last year I went almost a week at writing 1,700 words a day and then crashed. This time I'm thinking that I might just give myself an hour each day to spill out a little of the accumulating plot.
And I'm sort of kind of maybe possibly and indirectly attempting to for a suitable plot.
Back in August I had the brilliant idea to steer nearly every original literary idea that's burst through my cranium into a collision and make on whopper of a tale out of the best parts of each piece.
Well my MC (main character) is probably getting mad at me by now because he's been sitting in the same history class waiting for his teacher's next words for a few months now. HOWEVER *ahem* from that collaboration I have devised the beginnings of a sub-short story that will take place in the same places.
Yeah (for the second time).
Woohoo...
Another problem that I happen to have is the fact that I don't know much about the topics that I like to write about. Actually, I don't really much about anything---but that's another topic for another time, hmm? =D
The other thing that might become a conflict is lack of inspiration. Notice that I don't say writer's block. I think I've decided there's a difference.
See, writer's block is when you can't decide what your MC(s) are going to do next.
Lack of inspiration is when, for the life of you, you don't WANT to type what your MC(s) are going to do next...or even HOW they do what they are going to do next.
I don't have questions of what they should do next. I just can't get myself to get them to their desired destination.
I guess writing a novel is kind of like being in control of people at a train station.
Something or other like this:
You need Mrs. MacAurther on train 224 heading to Westbond and Greyfarthing at 12:15 sharp. Then, over here you need Mr. Gary and his entire family of nine on the rail going to Detroit at 1:30 PM. In addition, you have the Maryvilles, the Rootes, AND the Jetsons who are vacationing together and need to get on the quickest train to the nearest airport (wherever that might be---but you're in charge so it's up to you to help them get there). There are more, but it's rather exhausting to elaborate.
Also, in order to make their trips more appealing to a general audience, you are to send a batch of man-eating badgers to attack one of them (that character will fend them off with his cleverly-concealed crossbow), an infestation of robots to damage tracks, and a mad hamster in a ball who happens to be bent on enslaving the human race. These are your story conflicts.
In the end, a selection of yourcharacters passengers must mistakenly die, then come miraculously back to life, a romantic relationship must be expanded upon, and each one should eventually have their lives concluded in a full-length biography (otherwise called an "afterword").
Your one thing standing for you?
Music.
The most excellent writing tip ever:
When epically chronicling your masterpiece, listen to all things Thomas Bergersen (one of the reasons why YouTube is actually very awesome).
Happy NaNo-ing!
But NaNo is a chance. These crazy people literally encourage the imprisonment of your inner editor (for a month).
To be honest, I really wouldn't care about book writing---if it weren't for one annoying little thing.
My head is a saga-creating machine. There is not a moment when my brain doesn't have something it's juicing up.
I have a library full of stories and a circus full of people in there (to my surprise, it happens to hold an amazing amount of capacity). Creating things is the way I function and entertain myself. It's just a thing about me.
If I were to do a NaNo this year I'd set an exceedingly small goal for myself. Most people go with the intention of writing about 50,000 words in 30 days.
Yeah.
Well I'm not most people. And that doesn't really work for me. It takes me hours to write five hundred words. I don't have enough time to write more than triple that every day ON TOP of (increasingly piled up) school work, house work, and the Thanksgiving festivities that come with November.
Small goals aren't bad. Maybe a short story will work. I really just want to type out the words "THE END" on something. That's all. That's it. I want a finished work of jumbly-mumbly. Last year I went almost a week at writing 1,700 words a day and then crashed. This time I'm thinking that I might just give myself an hour each day to spill out a little of the accumulating plot.
And I'm sort of kind of maybe possibly and indirectly attempting to for a suitable plot.
Back in August I had the brilliant idea to steer nearly every original literary idea that's burst through my cranium into a collision and make on whopper of a tale out of the best parts of each piece.
Well my MC (main character) is probably getting mad at me by now because he's been sitting in the same history class waiting for his teacher's next words for a few months now. HOWEVER *ahem* from that collaboration I have devised the beginnings of a sub-short story that will take place in the same places.
Yeah (for the second time).
Woohoo...
Another problem that I happen to have is the fact that I don't know much about the topics that I like to write about. Actually, I don't really much about anything---but that's another topic for another time, hmm? =D
The other thing that might become a conflict is lack of inspiration. Notice that I don't say writer's block. I think I've decided there's a difference.
See, writer's block is when you can't decide what your MC(s) are going to do next.
Lack of inspiration is when, for the life of you, you don't WANT to type what your MC(s) are going to do next...or even HOW they do what they are going to do next.
I don't have questions of what they should do next. I just can't get myself to get them to their desired destination.
I guess writing a novel is kind of like being in control of people at a train station.
Something or other like this:
You need Mrs. MacAurther on train 224 heading to Westbond and Greyfarthing at 12:15 sharp. Then, over here you need Mr. Gary and his entire family of nine on the rail going to Detroit at 1:30 PM. In addition, you have the Maryvilles, the Rootes, AND the Jetsons who are vacationing together and need to get on the quickest train to the nearest airport (wherever that might be---but you're in charge so it's up to you to help them get there). There are more, but it's rather exhausting to elaborate.
Also, in order to make their trips more appealing to a general audience, you are to send a batch of man-eating badgers to attack one of them (that character will fend them off with his cleverly-concealed crossbow), an infestation of robots to damage tracks, and a mad hamster in a ball who happens to be bent on enslaving the human race. These are your story conflicts.
In the end, a selection of your
Your one thing standing for you?
Music.
The most excellent writing tip ever:
When epically chronicling your masterpiece, listen to all things Thomas Bergersen (one of the reasons why YouTube is actually very awesome).
Happy NaNo-ing!
Sunday, October 14, 2012
Friday, October 12, 2012
The Man: He Resembles Both Owl AND Hobbit
Sorry it looks squished.
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Someday I'm gonna have a fangirl outburst. Dread that day friends. Dread that day.
It's weird how I already can't wait for his next work of art to be produced, published, and public-ized. Seriously, this guy is one of the most amazing artists of the century. And when I say artists, I don't even mean music. I mean artistry in the fine craft of photography and wordsmithing too. This dude is good at things. Things that I very much want to be good at. And to top if off, he still keeps his head and faithfully follows our Savior. Even when fame is a very nasty, twisted, and tangled business, he openly proclaims the truth:
I guess this is just a re-statement of what I've said in previous posts. But why not have two more copper coins in the jar?
Another reason to love Owl City:
Every time I hear this it's like childhood nostalgia dances a tango straight into my ears.
^_^
G'night.
Whoa There Windspeaker!
Do I call on the wind, expecting it to howl, or do I simply want it to sweep me off my feet? Some say that you can't whistle to a thing as wild and free as it is, and then simply expect to have it at your side within the hour. But I guess I don't believe them. At any rate, I whistled and it came.
I'm one of those people you don't like to think about. Not because I'm a terrible person per se. More like because I concern you. People in general tend to become uneasy when someone unlike "normal" society is among them...and, well...I'm probably not the most normal of beings you might find in a big city like this.
But even here you have to wonder. Even here you'll find a few things under the surface that aren't quite what they seem. After all, you don't really think that the air just circulates on it's own, tunneling its way in and out of these subways like it has its own road map.
Nope.
The authorities aren't rearing to speak of it, but they really do have several Windspeakers working down in the tunnels---even the ones right beneath your feet, or the ones below Times Square itself.
Imagine it! The stations you happen to use, day in, day out, work to home and back again, are made possible only by my people. Well, it's a jolly good thing we don't require much credit or attention, otherwise you'd have a National crisis on your hands. If the Windspeakers went on strike, all the oxygen and air that reaches below would stop short, like a tab turned off. And that would be the end of something.
And the beginning of something else.
I'm one of those people you don't like to think about. Not because I'm a terrible person per se. More like because I concern you. People in general tend to become uneasy when someone unlike "normal" society is among them...and, well...I'm probably not the most normal of beings you might find in a big city like this.
But even here you have to wonder. Even here you'll find a few things under the surface that aren't quite what they seem. After all, you don't really think that the air just circulates on it's own, tunneling its way in and out of these subways like it has its own road map.
Nope.
The authorities aren't rearing to speak of it, but they really do have several Windspeakers working down in the tunnels---even the ones right beneath your feet, or the ones below Times Square itself.
Imagine it! The stations you happen to use, day in, day out, work to home and back again, are made possible only by my people. Well, it's a jolly good thing we don't require much credit or attention, otherwise you'd have a National crisis on your hands. If the Windspeakers went on strike, all the oxygen and air that reaches below would stop short, like a tab turned off. And that would be the end of something.
And the beginning of something else.
* * *
I literally just had this weird inkling: A book plot which takes place in modern day about the percentage of population who can actually control wind (and windspeed). One of the jobs available to them would be to control and stabilize air content in subways (like the really big metros used in NY and DC). Without them, underground travel would be impossible.
Like I said, "weird".
Hmm...Dear old slapdash inspiration strikes again. Anyone wanna use my new found idea?
Thursday, October 11, 2012
Of Snippets and Socks
"What is it?", they say.
"What will it be?", I say.
And then I forget about it and dump it in my ever overflowing closet.
* * *
Hi all! How are you this fine afternoon (no, it really is fine---overcast and cool...The WINDOWS ARE OPEN!)? Lately you may have noticed the local trend of me posting random dialogue in the beginning of each post.
In explanation: I get these all the time. Just random snippets from some unheard of story that is non-existent and never will be.
Nice isn't it?
And by the way, my closet doesn't always overflow. That's just my fictional characters as she talks to you all in the three-lined snippet inserted above. I think I'll be doing that more often. I like to start blog updates off by picking you up onto your toes with randomness.
So now that I've started, where shall I begin?
*runs through titles in head*
Chapter one, "My Life As Recorded in 5 Minutes worth of blog time"...
*shakes head*
Nah. I won't bore ya. Nothing going on that would be extremely excited to the lot of you wonderful cyber friends. However, I do come baring a picture of what some may call "Awesome Sauce".
(Apologies for it not being the greatest of quality...)
*evil laugh*
My socks!
Whilethrowing my room upside down and shaking the pennies out of its ears cleaning my room, I happened upon this pair of socks I seemingly forgot I had ownership of.
In conclusion then, I feel that now is the appropriate time to announce that to the world.
That is all.
K-Minty
"What will it be?", I say.
And then I forget about it and dump it in my ever overflowing closet.
* * *
Hi all! How are you this fine afternoon (no, it really is fine---overcast and cool...The WINDOWS ARE OPEN!)? Lately you may have noticed the local trend of me posting random dialogue in the beginning of each post.
In explanation: I get these all the time. Just random snippets from some unheard of story that is non-existent and never will be.
Nice isn't it?
And by the way, my closet doesn't always overflow. That's just my fictional characters as she talks to you all in the three-lined snippet inserted above. I think I'll be doing that more often. I like to start blog updates off by picking you up onto your toes with randomness.
So now that I've started, where shall I begin?
*runs through titles in head*
Chapter one, "My Life As Recorded in 5 Minutes worth of blog time"...
*shakes head*
Nah. I won't bore ya. Nothing going on that would be extremely excited to the lot of you wonderful cyber friends. However, I do come baring a picture of what some may call "Awesome Sauce".
*evil laugh*
My socks!
While
In conclusion then, I feel that now is the appropriate time to announce that to the world.
That is all.
K-Minty
Monday, October 8, 2012
P Sherman and All That
Hiya all.
Ever notice that when you're listening to a really good song and writing at the same time, all you wanna do is type the lyrics? That's what I've been feeling like. I've been walking around in agonizingly repetitive circles wanting to create something beautiful. I don't care what with---gimme anything: words, photos, music, crayolas,---ANYTHING!
But I can't.
Actually, I don't mean that like a "can't can't" more like just a "can't". Get what I mean?
It's something horrible to be an abstract thinker. I have a swirly twirly line of ideas and dreams dancing in my head, and I can't get the orchestra to play a number slow enough for me to catch up with them. I'm not an insomniac, quite the opposite really, but there are those weird nights when my brain is literally doing this to me:
You get the idea, right?
It's a colossal whirlwind of voices, words, pictures, and past. That's when I want my fingers to fly over a keyboard and start writing out every inkling I get...but it doesn't work that way. Inspiration comes to fast and leaves before I can hang up it's coat and hat on the rack.
Ain't that annoying?
So long live dashes of inspiration that I can never quite get down, eh? ;)
Ever notice that when you're listening to a really good song and writing at the same time, all you wanna do is type the lyrics? That's what I've been feeling like. I've been walking around in agonizingly repetitive circles wanting to create something beautiful. I don't care what with---gimme anything: words, photos, music, crayolas,---ANYTHING!
But I can't.
Actually, I don't mean that like a "can't can't" more like just a "can't". Get what I mean?
It's something horrible to be an abstract thinker. I have a swirly twirly line of ideas and dreams dancing in my head, and I can't get the orchestra to play a number slow enough for me to catch up with them. I'm not an insomniac, quite the opposite really, but there are those weird nights when my brain is literally doing this to me:
You get the idea, right?
It's a colossal whirlwind of voices, words, pictures, and past. That's when I want my fingers to fly over a keyboard and start writing out every inkling I get...but it doesn't work that way. Inspiration comes to fast and leaves before I can hang up it's coat and hat on the rack.
Ain't that annoying?
So long live dashes of inspiration that I can never quite get down, eh? ;)
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