The Importance of daydreams

I cant write when there's noise. Clutter of the airways, that barrage the senses and stifles deep thought.
Loud music, people talking, dishes clanging, there's all sorts of noise.
But when I press my hands to my ears, and block the noise with streams of Claude Debussy piping through my ear phones everything stills. I have stepped through the veil from the physical world and am now floating through the imaginary creative world.
This is my ideal place, the place where dreams are tangible and the world that I dream of can be reached.
The place that everything is possible. Nothing is withheld from me, a place where I can flit with fairies and fight alongside king Arthur atop Glastonbury tore our swords matching the blows of our adversaries.
A place that;  every place, every bit of green every stirring of breeze holds magic that I can touch and experience.
But what about when I'm not alone, with just the wind and chirping bird to inspire and stimulate my creative side. What about when I'm barraged with the noises of a family, with the noises of human existence. I have learn'ed to block out the sounds of cars and clatter of people at will. I live each day telling myself to look at beauty, to find that one thing that can get the creativity and inspiration flowing.
The azure sky like a beautiful gem that hardly gets noticed at all by people unawares of the heavenly show placed right above our heads a picture pregnant with creativity and beauty just waiting to be seen and felt in our souls.
I close my eyes and a wave of longing washes over me, to play among the white fluff of clouds, and bounce upon beams of liquid light would be heavenly. But seeing with my eyes is touching it in a way, and that scene is captured within and treasured for some day when the sun does not shine and the clouds are a frightful grey.
When I'm hurtling about on paved roads and the foliage is whipping past me with no definite shape or form, its the idea, there colors   there blurry shapes that impress me with a terrifying beauty. I close my eyes in the same afore mentioned state, and the experience changes, everything is solely the feeling sense; The wind kissing my cheeks the sun hot and bright upon my skin and eyelids. There is a faint aroma of wild flours on the wind that mingles with a yet softer aroma of fire somewhere burning bright. The wind encapsulates me, no longer am I just in a car on an obscure road, no longer can I hear radio noise or car horns. I'm flying among the realms of imagination. Past impossible dreams that only need be touched to spark to life. Every moment a training within to see, taste, touch, beauty and inspiration for any aspect of creativity, not just for writing inspiration alone.

I got caught in a thinking that I needed time alone, time spent quiet and hidden away by my self to cultivate any idea of novels and writing. Yes I do need time alone to write, but to be honest thats just not really realistic in my life. I share a room with two of my siblings and when were not living in eternal sleep over mode there is still just noise. Thats life, and for a long time I made excuses that I couldn't write, it didn't work because I wasn't inspired when I did get that precious rare quiet time alone, And when things were loud and hectic or when I was making dinner something would come to me that drove me nuts because I couldn't just drop everything and write.
But in time I learned.
Every moment must be utilized otherwise nothing would ever get done.
And I hate nothing more than waisted time. I find there is nothing more annoying for my personality than time with nothing to fill it, inactivity frustrates me with a stronger vengeance than I care to admit I posses. So I have learned to fill every moment. It keeps a person out of trouble and one can really come up with some very interesting stuff in that time.
I have discovered for me that every moment there must be a watering of my soul through music through books through beauty to ignite the creative flow.
I'm not sure about you dearest reader but if it weren't for these such things I would have nothing to feed off of. And a state of a starved creative spirit is so tragic. Trust me I know that tragedy well.
But this has gradually become such a usual thing that it can be an inconvenience, I find that I day dream at the most inopportune times. And often times cause problems such as absent minded messes. What my family doesn't know is that my aggrievances are often due to some new found way to torture or make blessed my most recent character. Its a distracting past time but a productive pastime.
I wish very ardently to express how much this has helped me creatively. No moment is lost to the out lands of waisted time or lost opportunities.
I don't feel empty when I find myself alone, but also I have cultivated a sense to block out inconvenient noise that cant be obliterated.
Perhaps if you have some spare time try and dream, it will do wonders for everything.

Your imagination is a garden CULTIVATE it !





















Photos via pinterest

A general partaking of a happy birthday, and a Tag.

Having meant to post this ages ago I finely dragged myself to it. The it being miss Joy's tag in celebration to her second year of blogging. I love the questions she asked, there just so unique that I couldn't help but partake. She's celebrating over at her beautiful blog, and I highly suggest you either find time or make it to pour over her lovely and thoughtful posts. I now feel the need to say that she is a very talented writer and if you love that sort of thing I.E. Adventure, and thoughtful and heartfelt sort of books. Than I think you would be blessed to follow her blog, Here 
The tag is open to anyone who wants to answer any or all. If you do I would love to read your answers, just leave me a comment. 

1. Pretending if need be that you never read any of those titles, (unless you actually haven’t), which book-title intrigues you the most that it would make you abandon all the others and read THAT one book...?Roverandom, The Keys of the Kingdom, That Hideous Strength, The Conflict of Religions in the Early Roman Empire, With Christ in the School of Prayer, Kidnapped, The Ballad of the White Horse, The Robe, The Man Who Was Thursday, or Surprised by Joy...?

ok well pretending I have never read any of these, which a few out of the group I have had the good fortune to beguile my time with. I would say Roverandom, The ballad of the white horse, and The man who was thursday.

2. How do you reconcile yourself with an offended cat? (Tell a clueless girl, here!)

well in my experience one must be genteel, use only soothing words in a voice thats an octave above reason. let the ofended one come to you, let it sniff your hand, animals do that, and stroke it from the back of the head, dont go at it from the front. Cats feel that you are coming on to there personal space. And there none the wiser when you with a slight of hand trick begin to rub there ears, there basically catatonic at that point. In the event that you have a fiendish devil that is faster than lightning and, catches you then at that point one mist come bearing gifts. Fish or chicken flavored gifts. 

3. Can you describe to us in a seven-word sentence your current surroundings using the five senses: sight, hearing, taste, smell and touch? Otherwise you can name in order the thirteen dwarf characters in The Hobbit without looking the info up online. ‘Tis your choice, you know!

Well the hobbit naming just isn't possible, wipe that look of horror off your face please, I'm not that good with names. um a seven word sentence,
 Coffee in a blue cup, messy desk, bedroom serene. that really wasn't very good, my apologies. 

4. Tea or Coffee? Or lemonade?

All the above mentioned, at different times and for different occasions. Coffee morning, tea afternoon or after dinner. And lemonade of a hot summers day. (with a sprig of fresh mint) or as dessert. 

5. Do you think your writing voice and style on your blog (or novel) is so very different from your normal, day-to-day voice and personality? Or is almost identical?

This is so good, I try and keep it real here, on my blog, it took me some time to realize that the way I write is in many ways the way I talk, but sometimes a bit more eloquent. And with out so many ums and you knows. Im trying to cut those out of my vocabulary. But style wise its pretty much the same. 
for my novels they differ due to the time period and how I feel the story should be written, though there are strains of my voice through out. So I took the long way around to say yes, I think its nearly identical. 

6. Puddleglum or Mr. Tumnus?

Oh my goodness, someone finally asked me the question I have been waiting for my whole life ! 

Puddleglum, Theres just something I liked about him, with his pessimistic view on everything, he added a sort of charm to the silver chair and a bit or humor that wouldn't otherwise be there. 
he was a damper on everything but had a strength that when it came to it aided the children in there mission, with hidden wisdom that comes from just looking at things the way they are. and we find that in spite of himself hes a secret dreamer. What I lokes was the evolution of him from gloomy marsh wiggle to out witting giants and defeating witches with strength he didn't know he had in the underlands. That speaks to me saying everyone no matter what they look like outside has gems under the surface just waiting to be discovered. But I cant leave Mr Tumnus out of this either because I loved his character just as much, and if were talking about hidden strength then I must mentioned him too. 
Hes the dreamer that will submit, we see that if he wasn't he wouldn't have been a spy for the witch. But he also has this strength and courage that gives lucy a chance to flee placing himself at the wrath of the white witch in her stead. I love that kind of moral character and strength in someone. he saw her innocence and just was too good hearted to let her be hurt, knowing fill well that firstly lucy might hate him for tricking her and tells the truth anyway, and secondly the wrath of the witch would cost him his life. whats not to like about these two different characters. Who can teach us so much in there own ways. 

7. Which of the seasons, spring, summer, autumn, or winter, appeals to you most in a literary sense and inspires you to write?

All of them, but in different ways. winter i want piles of delicious words from stories I didn't write, But also gives me a nostalgic air that I must write to get in order to get out. everything floods with cozy thoughts and memories. That creatively helps a lot, flooding the mind with all sorts of ideas stemmed from memories. Spring is so inspiring nature especially. Misty mornings and budding trees, theres nothing like new life to get the creative juices flowing. I probably have more novel inspiration in spring than any other season. Everything aligns to be perfect in a fleeting way, and I feel an urgency to capture that. summer is one of those months of experience where I watch people, in silent observation. due in  part to more stuff happens in summer than any other time. I look around me and notice society. Where I wonder about time and the speed at wich everything seems to happen. Early mornings with the sunrise and silent reveries, and a graceful growth of nature that matures before my wondering eyes. Also, nature has a way of inspiring me with writing, when I'm pulling weeds or planting and tending the garden I usually have a head full of plots, knightly sword fights, daring damsels, and strange happenings. the best time to plot is when your knee deep in soil and fresh earth, with gentil summer flower scents excite the senses. Its all a very natural process. And autumn in its colored splendor gives me a mood that I havent found a word for yet. A daring sort of mood that drives me to daring and majestic things with my characters and plots. Autumn is mysterious, shrouded in misty grey, wet mornings and chilly evenings. Its cider and jacketed walks which if you havent figured it out yet, is one of my favorite ways to be inspired. I don't know, theres something about musky woods and smokey wind pared with the rush of gees calls that just ignite a warm glow of creativity within me. 
Each season my mood changes and each time its different. cozy and sad and thinking about the past, new and fresh with resolve and romantic inclinations, mature and bright and natural, or deep and mysterious. I couldn't choose one season I love them all creatively speaking. 

8. Cast your mind back to childhood, what was your favourite Old Testament Bible character as a child? What was your most dearly loved Bible Account? Why?

Hmm, this is a hard one for me, I had a illustrated children's bible that I read all the time. It looked like a real one and it made me feel like a grownup. but every story in there awed me. I loved the story of daniel and the three jewish boys, Shadrach, Meshach and Abednego, as characters they are quite strong and wont relent, I appreciate that in people. Lets see favorite account, um, the stories of Jesus really were my favorite. And I cant pick just one.

9. What are some of the films/books or songs that make you tear-up or cry the most (be it because it is so beautiful, or really sad or tragic, etc), tell us why they do that; do you actually like to cry in a movie/book? 
Um I normally cry in the film area when theres something really touching. usually relating to families. Families are a subject close to my heart, like reunions after years or just touching moments. Its hard to define what makes the heart go all soft. but thats one of them, also tragic moments especially if I'm attached to the character, this goes for the reading department as well. Stories of sacrifice especially get me. I do think its ok to cry at something like a book or film. It shows that one, your heart is soft, and two, that the thing film or book has captured my attention and heart and I feel connected to that in some way. Example I totally cried when beth in little women died, book and film it doesn't matter which fim either. Its just too touching the conversation she has with jo. Ugh I'm  sniffling already. 

10. Do you have any special literary goals or dreams that you wish you could accomplish as a writer during your lifetime (besides publishing, that is!)?

wow this question, right now I would say that to inspire people to look at the world in a more romantic way would be it. I want to creatively inspire and encourage. I want to create the kinds of stories that are timeless, that long after my life people are getting something from them. I want someone to read my stories the way i read Dickens or Austen, I'm not saying I have reached there writerly merits or will ever. What I do dream of is some day, someone in a library finds a worn volume of some story I wrote long ago and glows with excitement at having found the book. I think that would be very fulling.

11. If you are a writer, which one of your characters’ internal makeup most echoes a likeness or similitude to you? If you have none of your own – what other fictional character (book/film) does? Explain your answer. 

Well as a writer I could say all of them has some residue of the creator in them. But Especially My courant character sophia, I suppose she's more like me then I would like to admit. 

My brains going explain ! explain ! (Sorry for that doctor who reference) I'm a dreamer and I put that into my character because well it had bearing on the plot. she's adventurous but in that home loving way. Like dreaming of seeing the world but dearly loves home. make sense ? um, she has a inner strength thats silent and the flip to that is a weakness for being painfully honest and a lot sarcastic. oftentimes causing problems for herself. She doesn't like to get involved and loves being alone, hating large crowds. feeling more herself in solitude. Thats a lot like me. 

12. Excuse me for another Tolkien reference, but I couldn't help it, alas! Which of the five Middle-earth hobbits do you identify with the most: Bilbo, Frodo, Sam, Merry, or Pippen? 

Hmm, I dont really know. 

13. What special topic do you relish talking/writing about the most? Like – like a tap that can instantly be turned on... please, do tell!

Peoples daydreams and reveries, which usually are caused by emotions. I really sove to write emotions. Its weird but I get this deeper understanding of the character and i think that the reader does as well. I am a bit psychological by nature, so I'm always asking peoples motivs and there emotional state. Usually when I get warmed up for writing the first thing that comes out is a thought or idea of emotional musing, and everything that goes with that.

14. Make your choice, adventurous Stranger; Strike the bell and bide the danger, Or wonder, till it drives you mad, What would have followed if you had.  – The Bell and the Hammer, C.S. Lewis ...thus said the inscription next to the bell in that mysterious place in which Polly and Digory came upon, in The Magician’s Nephew. If you had been in their place, would you have taken the adventure of ringing the golden bell as Digory did (not knowing that the White Witch would be awakened) or would you have acted sensibly like Polly but risked being driven mad by the thought of ‘what if’ when you were back home in England?

Unfortunately I would have rung the bell. I would have hesitated at first but I would have figured that I could get out of something if I had to. Who wouldn't have found something strange and mysterious and not poked it with a stick. Or what ever one dings bells with respectively. 

15. What is that which makes you keep blogging and writing in general in the times when your blog/and or you yourself are at a low ebb? Do you like taking breaks from blogging or miss your followers too much? 
I usually break, just because I dont really like to complain too much on here. In the hopes that I can maybe be an inspiration or something to someone else. Like so many have been for me. But i do like to keep it real and so if I feel that to be truthful and write what I'm feeling, (Theres no shame in that its human) will give me some clarity or maybe help someone who's going through what I am. Its a fine lined balance of too much or too little.  
But that said, I do miss the reads of unknown friends so I read and do comment. 

Hello Old Friend

I haven't had much time to write anything lately, with summer comes many duties. But I'm never far from writing in my mind. I thought I would post about what I do in the times I'm far from paper and pen. When I finely sit down to write, its like the meeting of old friends. I miss my characters more than I would have imagined.
Its as though I finely get to converse with someone, or someones who have a mutual mind. every second spent with these non existent beings our relationship grows stronger and stronger. deeper and deeper. I would have never imagined growing so attached with figments of my imagination.
I never thought that building characters was much like building relationships, with real people. The more you spent time with them, the more you know them at there essence. quarks, style, ticks everything that makes them them. and this is easier now because I can meet them in the doorway of my imagination at any time. morn or eventide. There are some you just click with and others who are a bit more elusive, I have learned this and its added a deeper growth to my writing than I could have imagined. I know lots of people stress the character thing, and I was one of those people who `nods head´ Yes yes I agree, I get it its important, but then never gave it much time or thought to deepen the idea.
I always thought that this meant writing, but I was wrong. Lately being far from anything that writes even a pen I have been dreaming all sorts of things in my mind. what would happen if, or what if that. I have been doing an extensive research of my characters far down to small details like there favourite colours. Its been wonderful.
Thankfully this is the first novel I have really stuck to. And I have spent so much time with, three years writing a novel is a long time, and there are more reasons why its not finished apart from the I'm terrible at just getting to it than can be written here.
That the characters are more and more like old friends than just narrators whispering in my ear.
now instead of a cold face to face factual interview, we chat at our leaser on sofas and have bergamot and french vanilla scented tea. And we stray to many things apart from there past. I do need to spend some more time with the rest of this cast, but hey the the two main protagonist is a good start. I'm just imagining a friendly interview with a sputtery cold old antagonist, and its very hilarious. Well see.
I just thought I would encourage you to spend a little more time with your cast, and give it a try. Close your eyes picture your characters give yourself time to dream all sorts of scenario's. Even ones that stray far from your plot. you'll be pleasantly surprised with what you discover. I know I have.

What about you, What do you do to understand your characters ?





Pictures from pinterest

Novel Talk

I feel like a terribly lax blogger lately. I have in so many ways thrown aside this little space I have so come to love and dig deep into other things, to name a few tumblr and a plethora of new old books.
But I'm determined after a bout of non inspiration (I know how is one to be uninspired when in complete literary abandon. I truly have no idea) To be faithful to post something of worth.
 This is a post written on an I pad. So that's new, and this thing is infuriating with its auto correct.
Sorry for the side note.
I have been at lately something I never thought I would find my self doing.
Namely writing a summery of my book, I shall title it Victorian dreams, but that's to change when the time comes, it sounds a bit cheesy and I'm not inclined to like that title.
I have written about this story before, but I have had a strange apprehension that made me not want to write about the details. Why I'm not sure. I follow so many writers who do so and I enjoy hearing about what they are writing. So I have been thinking why not.
The question is how to not write too many details but not bore you all to distraction in the process.
I have been on these lazy sort of winter days when there isn't much else to do, confined to my room weaving a web, plotting and trying my best to be worthy to my literary hero's. As I have said at the beginning of this rambling post found my self writing a summery. I have no idea about the proper way to do it, but by the method I have found myself summarising seems to be amiable for the present. What I really am doing is writing a detailed summery of the story as it came to me, and of the small details which seem trifles but have a great baring on the plot. Then I have made a character description in hopes of getting to know my characters, better. And it's helped tremendously.
I now know the main characters Jack and Sophia better than ever, and the side worthy characters that colour the plot with there varied abilities and pasts.
 This full fledged novel, as I hope it will be, started as a short story endeavour. But after trying to take that plunge I fell prey to the story and the complex twists that kept on whispering in my ear. So in the end the characters won, I gave up my endeavour to write a short story and have been waist deep in the thick of it since. My ears have not yet tired to the sound of the characters detailed telling of there story, and my fingers have not grown weary at the typing of the same. I have been in a pool of excitement as I think and sort out the wrinkles of the plot and as I write another page. And then another, of the story that I have come to love. Whether I ever get this story published or not has become a trivial thing that doesn't matter anymore I just love this story that I have had nothing to do with, and If I and my immediate family only ever read it. I shan't be unhappy. Due to the fact that I have been privileged with this story. Jack and Sophia came to me. And not I to them. And they are wonderful hosts. I feel quite privileged. I will say for starters that its set in victorian London. But I think you got that from the "title"
This is the novel I shall be detailing on this blog o mine. And hopefully it wont be boring.
Though I have no idea about how to go about it. Here's a thought, if anyone of you my dear readers are interested. Perhaps you will leave me a comment and say what it is you would like to know first ?
And if anyone of you are prolific writers with a plethora of novels and stories under your metaphorical belt perhaps you might have tips ? well this ends this long and varied post which I am absolutely sure bored you all.
photo via tumblr

The Timepiece That Was Elusive

"There's so many words to be said, so many to write. And scant time to fill the world with the beauty of the hearts thoughts and words that should be spoken but usually get left unsaid. The desire is there but the means get away, adding to the complicated strange and terrible beautiful world we live in"© Rachel Hope 2012




I posted this on a whim on my tumblr page, and I still feel its true.
I have been thinking as of late theres so little time to write everything I want to write, and that's a horrible and maddening thought. The stories that are in my head, sketched into a yellow spine pad, and on tiny papers that are scattered here and there in the room I share with my brother and sister might never get written. Now I'm not one to often think in a negative way, dramatic doesn't mean negative. But the thought, though overly dramatic and pessimistic is still sobering when I think about it. Imagine if at the end of your life, may that be a very long time, you had done all the things you wished, completed all the things you wished to complete.
Now imagine you hadn't. Thats a very different and sort of sad thought isn't it ?
And I think I find this a bit motivational to do everything I can do every day to complete my goals.
There the only way we can get things done, ya know. Because I don't want in about two hundred years to regret all the things I didn't do as apposed to the things I did.

There just, as I said above not enough time to do so much. So I shall make the best of every day. How do you dear reader feel.
Do you have goals and sometimes pressure yourself to complete them ?





All photos via  tumblr

The Mark Of Inferiority

If you wish to be a Writer, Write. 

~ Epictetus 

I have always hated the Aspiring writer label.
I have merited it unworthy of every young or old UN published writer out there.
Mainly because I have to ask my self just because I don't get payed for my writing, just because no publishers or readers know my name. Just because I am not flying all over creation signing books for my latest hit novel. Does any of that truly qualify me as a writer ?
I don't think so, what I have just described is the product of being a writer,

Most of the time young penners go about saying they are aspiring, in a way giving them selves a note of ineligibility. But I must ask why ?
Why do we think that just because we have ignoble beginnings, that means we are not writers already.
If you have ever written a poem, a short story, a badly written novel that you are just terrified for anyone to see. Or just dream of penning something great, than you are in your heart a writer.
I myself have used the term aspiring, and every time I do, there is something in my heart that stops me cold. A sort of indescribable feeling, a feeling that I truly don't like.
Its as if I am pronouncing a sentence on my self. I truly cant explain why I feel so strangely, and its probably because in part I am a dramatic person, always have been.
But I believe that I am in some way right about this mark of inferiority we give ourselves, and the question I ask is why ?
Why do we feel that because we don't have a professional stamp on our foreheads and a check with our name on it that makes us in some way less than those who do.
When we say aspiring I cant help but see something thats yet to be attained, but clearly if you take up your pen and write words on a sheet of paper, or if you are typing them in a less old fashioned way, or have ever spent days plotting within yourself the worlds and characters and emotions, creating and shaping a world thats entirely your own.
Why to say you aren't a writer is like saying that the winter roses, are not roses, because they arent yet in full bloom.
Why do you say you aren't a writer, what is yet to be attained ?
I mean minus the check and international fandom's in love with your book, what is there yet you must get in order to feel like a writer ?
To be a writer one must write,
to be an artist one must draw or paint,
to be a photographer one must take a camera and photograph,
to be anything else one must first do that something in order to become professional.
I implore every person trying to attain the goal of professional status, just because you are not there yet. Doesn't denounce you as being the something that ties into that dream.
Lets stop the words of self given inferiority, and rise to who we are. Take our place among the stars and truly not care if we ever have the kind of fame that this industry creates.
And just write create because its in our very core to do so.

© 2012 Rachel hope 

November Snippets First edition.

I have never, and thought I would never, do snippets of story.

But I am in the mood for adventure, and I thought, If I cant jump off a waterfall into the face of white foam below in Australia. I had to put that there. Or walk the roof tops in Belgium. If I can't stand n the edge of the white cliffs of Dover, and feel the wind whisper of far away places to me.
At least I can do snippets of writing.
The story is one I have spoken of before on this here little Blog of mine, ( I just developed a southern accent, don't ask why) If you wish to read more about it you can do so here  and here . I have been scribbling away fervently as of late, and its behaved like a good little child.
But that's only because it just a wee babe, and not a toddler with a mind of its own. Yes I'm thinking of a certain story now, with knights and chivalry, and epic battles, and dragons. Wow that sounds so stereotyped. Moving on.
So its sort of being an open book posting something my own hands wrote.
But I said adventurous didn't I ?  Squelching fear, calling it excitement.

Here Goes.

His features softened from frustration to kindness and she relaxed at seeing so.

As a person who knows a lot about being alone, I thought you might not want to be.

especially not now.

The clock seemed to tick like it had nowhere to be, 

Sophia turned from the desk where she reclined, and gave it a good long look. 

one that held a slight flavor of vehemence. 

She shivered and moved gracefully to the fireplace, where she leaned on the mantle as if she herself had no strength. If any were to see her she would have seemed a statue crafted by some artisans hands. 

Her skin so pail and white, not at all like in her youth. When there was scant a day her shoulders and blooming cheeks were not kissed by the sun. As it seemed were her dreams, blessed with a kiss by the same. 

The rain that feel was unrelenting. The sky had opened and dropped its contents without remorse. 

No here too he saw the symbolism of his life. and that picture did him no great justice he pulled his collar up around his chin and tried to do his very best to keep warm.

What people saw in his eyes, he wondered, it must be something awful. 

True most vagabonds that traverse the streets of london they called home were ruffians that meant no good. but Him ? 

The sweetness being lost, the memory turned sour and Jack couldn't stand it for another second. The face of Sophia white and ghostly evading him in an otherworldly manner more than he could stomach. 

Shaking off such a foreboding shadow she stepped across the threshold. 

I love how stories become something completely different than you would expect. 

They take a life all there own and grow like children, almost unnoticed. Until one steps away and looks. 

That wasn't so hard. 

Have a blessed day with creativity at every turn.

© 2012 Rachel Hope 
photo via pinterest 

In which I try and be intellectual.

Today I'm going to indulge my literary fancies. And pretend that I am some great writer dictating to my self, in a indulgent intellectual sort of way. I my mind I'm pedagogical, I sit in my high backed time worn leather chair, the kind that has eventually memorized my favourite way of reclining, and cub my chin whilst I think and twiddle my thumbs. Here I will attempt to set my erudite intellect in motion. Do be so good as to remember I said attempt.
Lately I've been thinking about characters.
Most of the time characters are so coped, yes a lot of things have been done, almost all plots have been done in some way or another. But how to keep the person that drives the story intriguing enough to peak the interest of the reader and keep them from first to last page without boring them. What makes a memorable story ? What will you remember after the last word is read.
Why the characters of course ! Don't tell me you haven't ever read a really wonderful tale that transported you to another time another world, that captivated your heart by some special character, one you cried with one you marvelled with. One you felt the crushing pain of emotions and the glory of victory. One you fought inner dragons with, one you watched fall in love, one you gave your heart to in order to understand that said character. yes I know a bit dramatic and a bit too epic for all stories.
but all stories do have some element of something that makes you fall in love with the story, and I will guarantee that even if the plot is something told a thousand times before, if you add a beautifully complex character, you've got something. If you think about it that's whats so special about the tales told from the dawn of time, from the dark ages with there myth and lore to the romantic Victorian era with there stories of mystery and intrigue. the ones that are remembered are the ones with a really relatable character, someone that you feel you could be best friends with.
But how to go about it.
 When I write a character, I don't worry about the norm for such people.

I think, who would this person be if I met then on the street, would I like him/her ? would they annoy, fascinate, intrigue me ? Characters are people too, though merely in ones head. But imagine if that person were real. Imagine they had a life a family and all the wonderfully hard and lovely things about life followed them. I suppose I  might say that when I write my characters, I try and think who I would want to be, if I were in the situation that face the said protagonist. I do this because I am excessively afraid of writing flat characters, who wants to read rubbish with no one to relate to ?

Every person in the world has a story of who they are , and why they are the way they are.
Evil in not born its made, and so when discovering the antagonist I try and think completely opposite of who I would be, completely the night to the day something so far from who I should like to be that it creates a good villain. In short I suppose I try and decide to write about who I would like to be, or who I would not like to be. And all the baggage that goes with that. The best characters are real, or seem to be.

 As if they could take form and climb from the pages, and live in the visible world. They must    
have heart, and all the deep emotions that the heart holds, even sometimes the two polars that some have. Then you find a plot, most of the time my characters come to me with there own idea of there lives, its just my job to write them down. Sure I can improvise when they become especially difficult and they do depending on the weather. There so temperamental. There lives seem to just play out, most of the time anyway. I'm a person that is obsessed with the psychological side of people, there whys, what drives them, there stories and how that effects them for good or bad. every one has there reasons, there insecurities there hurts all differentiating of course but there their just the same.
So I feel that if one is to write a really good character, and that's something that all good stories need, they must include this.
I do hope this wasn't too pedantic. And it did a end a bit abruptly, but what can I say. my scholarly mind ran away from me much too expeditious than I would have liked.

Words to be read words to be written

I just need to read ! I have lamented to my self at least twice today. Its been sometime since I have cracked a page of anything. And I have started to notice. My mind craves the food for the soul, more than my body craves sustenance. Dramatic yes an overstatement no. Its unfortunate that I don't have a library, I do so want a library. And I think I know of at least two girls who share everything with me and I with them, that would be happy to wile away hours with me within those hallowed walls.
Pictures help, but there's something about stories that just stay with you, there was one such that I read in may that I still haven't forgotten. A certain Ted Dekker book that my sister and I have mutually become an ultimate fan of. Even my younger brother read it, or more I should say devoured in a day, something I have never seen, Respectively.
Books have that power, that's why I love them so much.
There movies without the theatrics there ancient and modern and I would be so bored without them.
Which reminds me of my quest to re read every book I have at my disposal. A certain Charles Dickens novel about two cities siting alone and without a companion comes to mind. I need to find some time to finish that one. And now I find my self rambling.

But with November here, and every young writer getting ready for the national novel writing month, starting today, I feel a bit lonesome. You see I'm not joining, and probably will never join.
 I can hear the appalled sighs from all you young dreamers who shan't have scarce enough time to lift your heads from your writing and shoot me a shocked glare.
For two reasons I will probably never join, I say probably because, well,  never say never. I have no idea why I heard that in a french accent.  
My life is hectic as can be, I know who's isn't.
 I seem to have some issues with "getting to it" the it being  certain story that has been collecting dust this past summer.So you'd think that something that would force me would be beneficial, but that's not how I'm wired, when I'm pressured I give up. But I will say that I have pledged to not be a snobbish smug writer, and join in my own way. I see my need to finish some story, and I hope that will be my yet to be titled, medieval novel. So my future of book reading will have to wait, its a small sacrifice, not reading to finish a goal. I will try and write as much as I can this month, and I cant wait to read who wins this years National Novel Writing Month.
Pens at the ready, See you all in December.
Oh and that doesn't mean that I won't be here typing away on this Blog when I can.
I haven't the foggiest idea if this post made an ounce of sense.

Photos via pinterest 

Words of my life

To have an idea about something and fall so short of it due to bad decisions and incompetence,
 is Ruinous.
To feel words in your head and ideas about things one might want to say, and then spend extended periods of time looking at a blank screen and jumbled keyboards,
 is Annoying
To have these thoughts comeback to me at some obscene hour of the night when I dare-not  turn a light on for fear of waking my poor sister who has the unfortunate fate of sharing a room with me,
is Unfortunate.
Solving any of these things Impossible.
Autumn here already,
Inconceivable.
I mean come on summer, I thought we talked about this, you were going to last just a little bit longer for me, Summer being over,
Doleful.
Having a typewriter for my room,
Convenient.
It being so loud its distracting,
 Inconvenient.
Sometimes its just better to stay in bed.

Please forgive the messy appearance of this desk as its under construction.