Saturday, November 22, 2014

You Probably Want Inspiration Too

Let's face it: you have a hard time finding inspiration. 

Allow me to define that. 

Inspiration comes in a flash yet instills lasting courage and drive. It makes you want to get back to it, every morning, without fail. It gets you past the distractions, the imgurs, the forums, the quick memes and videos... the Internet. It makes you thirsty to get back into the trenches, fight in the scrum and the dirt, through the blood, sweat, and tears. 

Inspiration makes that shit exhilarating. I believe that inspiration lets you look beyond your frontiers, and lets you know, "Hey, that over there, those greener grasses? It's in reach. Yeah, go get it."

If you think that you're struggling in your writing, finding it hard to place the pants to the seat, then you gotta look for some inspiration. These are hard to find. It will take time, and do not let the false inspirations get you. 

There is little worse than believing that you are inspired, only to burn out. You only have so many burn-outs in your tank. The discouragement from these is brutal. Really think, really believe that when you have found your inspiration, that it will take you far, push you to grow. 

After you've done that, the necessary stuff—the stuff that you kinda hate and avoid doing—makes sense, and you understand the purpose behind the brutal, daily work. You are officially inspired to chase your dreams, one step at a time.

Thursday, November 13, 2014

November Story #1


A short little clip I want to provide for you, my dear reader. Hopefully, you enjoy it (and even if you don't, expect to see much more from this new character). As always, please leave me any comments/feedback wherever you can!

The Mage Without Magic

He was not sure whether the darkness was in his mind or reality. Several times, he blinked and rubbed his eyes until his vision was sprayed with stars. And yet, when the stars faded, nothing remained of his sight but complete darkness. He knew that this unsettling darkness was real. “What is my name?” he said to the darkness, and when not even an echo dared to reply, he became unsure whether he had ever spoken at all. He opened his mouth to speak again, by habit mostly, for he realized that his voice held no value, that speaking meant a conversation, and a normal one with two people. He would be insane to hold a conversation with himself, or so he thought. So he did not speak.

What is my name? he thought. Where am I, in darkness so absolute, that I dare not take one step? If I take one step, and I reach nothing, have I truly gone anywhere? If I cannot see that my step has taken my somewhere, is it still a step?

He hugged himself and found that he was naked, yet comfortably so. Hesitantly, he reaffirmed the existence of his limbs, the long scrawny arms with barely a hair to the soft skin and the legs, thin, yet still retaining some of the once-muscular form. He tugged at each ear lobe. With his left hand, he snapped his fingers continuously, tracing from his left ear to his right, and back again, then snapped away from his ear and repeated the snaps nuzzled close.

So I exist, he thought to himself, and suddenly, he knew that he had made this assertion before, that this whole act had happened to him already. And fear became real once again.
This is not right! I should be free, with my family, my dear wife, Rona, and my sweet children, Daisy and Dylan, but instead, I am here, in this god-forsaken darkness, trapped not only with my thoughts but also my body. Damn!

Something like a groan escaped his body as the memories flooded back to him.

His name was Kyborn Tjelvjekr, student of Doshta Firn, descendent of the Mountain Circle. He had once been a mage, and that had meant something. People had respected him, sought him for advice, aid, and ability. What did it mean to be a mage? Kyborn searched his mind for the answer to this question, and when none appeared, his hopelessness—much darker than his environment—bore down on him. He crumpled, only vaguely wondering whether his fall would be infinite. It hurt him that he should not know the answer to this question; it hurt him more than knowing he would never see his wife and children ever again; it hurt him, beyond all his memories, and struck deep in every muscle and fiber of his body. He knew he used to be a mage, and yet, with the certainty of his breath and bones, he did not know how he had been a mage.

In his fetal position, Kyborn Tjelvejkr cried himself to sleep, hoping full well that when he awoke, he would forget all he had remembered.

Saturday, November 1, 2014

Dear reader:

Tonight, I am packing my bags and boxes (hopefully all within one trip of my little Corolla) and heading to a new apartment. I've been staying with my grandma, looking after her in the eleven months since my grandpa's passing. 

In spite of the reason for me being here, these last few months have been really really awesome. Growing up, I never had the chance to spend this much time with her—just 24/7: sharing bathroom, kitchen, laundry, chores, cat frustration, cat love and all the rotting food. Language barriers be damned, there are just lots of little moments that we've had, no words needed. I won't forget whenever she grinned sheepishly at buying too much food, laughed hysterically when the cat did something stupid, or got mad at me for refusing to eat six whole meals a day (we settled somewhere around 4.5). 

I'm always gonna remember those moments.

But, it's not a long-term solution for me to stay with her. I think she realizes that just as much as I do. Family is everything, and we're always trying to do right by one another. I think, for both of us, we need to show we can live on our own. 

That knowledge didn't make it any easier when she stood in my doorway—having just heard that I'm moving out—and was just speechless. Behind the glint of her glasses were some parts understanding and more parts sadness. But she didn't say a word. We were past that. She just sighed, the short hiccupy kind from too much crying, and shuffled off. 


That was a long night for me. 

I thought that maybe I was really wrong. Really wrong. Maybe I didn't know anything about her, had projected my own goals onto her. Maybe she wasn't ready. Maybe I was destroying all the confidence she had been rebuilding. 

But that night did end, and when I woke up, I knew she was going to be alright. And I think she knew, too. 

The thing is, you never know what's going to happen, but that doesn't mean you should be afraid of change or growth. Accept that good and bad outcomes may arise. You'll be there to meet them. 

Sorry, no October Story #2 from me. Just real life stuff. Stay tuned for a busy November though!