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 Posted: Tue Mar 13, 2007 7:11 pm
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I’ve been having writer’s block for a while and it’s been driving me nuts. Today, inspired by my writer’s block, I came up with this. A character came to me with the same problem, and now I think I’m over it. What do you think? I love constructive criticism.
Writer’s Block
I hate it! she thought. The constant rebellion of my characters! Talk to me, damn it! Tell me your story. Please.
She sat in bed, bent over a blank notebook page, one hand clutching a pencil, the other massaging her eyebrows. It had been weeks since she had written a word. The stories just wouldn’t come to her. Her characters were silent.
The door opened and a man wearing silk pajamas and a robe stepped into the room carrying a candle. “Danielle, don’t you think you ought to go to bed now? It’s nearly 1:00 and you’ve been staring at that notebook for hours.”
Damn, she thought. It’s 1:00 AM and I have to be up by six in the morning.
“Danielle . . . ?”
“I’m sorry, Uncle. I’ll, I’ll go to bed.”
She placed her notebook and pencil on her nightstand and blew out the lamp. “Goodnight, Uncle,” she said.
“Goodnight, Danielle.” He turned, and the light in Danielle’s room from his candle faded as he walked down the hall to his bedroom.
Danielle waited until the she heard his door closed and then relit her lamp. She wondered what was wrong with her. What could she have
possibly done to have offended her characters so that they wouldn’t talk to her?
She took her notebook and pencil from the nightstand. Placing the tip of her pencil on the paper, she let her hand do what it wanted. She looked down. Lines. Lines on blank paper.
What is a word, if not lines on blank paper? she thought. She looked once more at the scribbles she had allowed her hand to draw. A word is nothing, it’s the story behind it. The realization came to her. It wasn’t her words that had held magic, it was the feelings, the stories.
“Now you’ve got it,” a voice said from the end of her bed.
Danielle blinked, surprised, and looked up. A very petite girl was sitting cross-legged at the end of her bed, her pointed chin slightly in the air and a sly smile on her lips. She wore a dark leather tunic and slowly stroked a tiny brown monkey that was sitting on her shoulder. She tossed her head, removing a strand of her sleek, black hair from her face.
Danielle smiled, placing her pencil on the paper once more. Now, she thought, I can write.
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Posted: Sun Mar 18, 2007 7:59 pm
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Posted: Sun Mar 18, 2007 8:12 pm
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Posted: Sun Mar 18, 2007 9:20 pm
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Posted: Mon Mar 19, 2007 12:21 pm
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Posted: Mon Mar 19, 2007 7:42 pm
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Merenwen99 I’ve been having writer’s block for a while and it’s been driving me nuts. Today, inspired by my writer’s block, I came up with this. A character came to me with the same problem, and now I think I’m over it. What do you think? I love constructive criticism.Writer’s Block
I hate it! she thought. The constant rebellion of my characters! Talk to me, damn it! Tell me your story. Please.
She sat in bed, bent over a blank notebook page, one hand clutching a pencil, the other massaging her eyebrows. It had been weeks since she had written a word. The stories just wouldn’t come to her. Her characters were silent.
The door opened and a man wearing silk pajamas and a robe stepped into the room carrying a candle. “Danielle, don’t you think you ought to go to bed now? It’s nearly 1:00 and you’ve been staring at that notebook for hours.”
Damn, she thought. It’s 1:00 AM and I have to be up by six in the morning.
“Danielle . . . ?”
“I’m sorry, Uncle. I’ll, I’ll go to bed.”
She placed her notebook and pencil on her nightstand and blew out the lamp. “Goodnight, Uncle,” she said.
“Goodnight, Danielle.” He turned, and the light in Danielle’s room from his candle faded as he walked down the hall to his bedroom.
Danielle waited until the she heard his door closed and then relit her lamp. She wondered what was wrong with her. What could she have
possibly done to have offended her characters so that they wouldn’t talk to her?
She took her notebook and pencil from the nightstand. Placing the tip of her pencil on the paper, she let her hand do what it wanted. She looked down. Lines. Lines on blank paper.
What is a word, if not lines on blank paper? she thought. She looked once more at the scribbles she had allowed her hand to draw. A word is nothing, it’s the story behind it. The realization came to her. It wasn’t her words that had held magic, it was the feelings, the stories.
“Now you’ve got it,” a voice said from the end of her bed.
Danielle blinked, surprised, and looked up. A very petite girl was sitting cross-legged at the end of her bed, her pointed chin slightly in the air and a sly smile on her lips. She wore a dark leather tunic and slowly stroked a tiny brown monkey that was sitting on her shoulder. She tossed her head, removing a strand of her sleek, black hair from her face.
Danielle smiled, placing her pencil on the paper once more. Now, she thought, I can write.
the parts were I wasn't scared blew my mind. -gigles and runs away- |
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Posted: Mon Mar 19, 2007 7:44 pm
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Posted: Tue Mar 20, 2007 1:04 pm
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Posted: Tue Mar 20, 2007 3:41 pm
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Merenwen99 NovaKing its odd today im not experiencing any sort of writers block. what i am experiencing, though, is a school work block. This is quite upsetting to my internal balence because i have about twenty stories i want to write about right now and i cant because i know i have twenty tons of home work to get done! sad help me!!! gonk crying
Hmework's just practice. I dont really mind it, and to be honest i like school. Every new thing i learn is just added potential for insperation. |
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Posted: Tue Mar 20, 2007 5:48 pm
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NovaKing Merenwen99 NovaKing its odd today im not experiencing any sort of writers block. what i am experiencing, though, is a school work block. This is quite upsetting to my internal balence because i have about twenty stories i want to write about right now and i cant because i know i have twenty tons of home work to get done! sad help me!!! gonk crying Hmework's just practice. I dont really mind it, and to be honest i like school. Every new thing i learn is just added potential for insperation. |
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Posted: Tue Mar 20, 2007 6:50 pm
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Merenwen99 NovaKing Merenwen99 NovaKing its odd today im not experiencing any sort of writers block. what i am experiencing, though, is a school work block. This is quite upsetting to my internal balence because i have about twenty stories i want to write about right now and i cant because i know i have twenty tons of home work to get done! sad help me!!! gonk crying Hmework's just practice. I dont really mind it, and to be honest i like school. Every new thing i learn is just added potential for insperation.
dont listen to yourself! school is fun you just have to find that thing you used to like about it! trust me home schooling is dull and boring and just completly bad. School is an ejoyable experience within itself.
YOu just have to find a subject you like.
AND YOU BETTER LISTEN AND TAKE THIS NEXT PART TO HEART BECAUSE NO ONE EVER DOES AND THEY JUST GO ABOUT THE SAME THING AND I DONT LIKE being ignored sad
and if you love that subject, then let nothing stand in the way of your love.
thats it, i cant stress enough the deph of that statment so please think about it. Think about its meaning, how it might have been derived, everything.
please. |
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Posted: Tue Mar 20, 2007 7:56 pm
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Posted: Tue Mar 20, 2007 8:00 pm
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KirbyVictorious My geometry homework took 5 hours today. Because, three of them were spent goofing off with my beloved novel heart and generally following every thread of an idea I had--still not done--and half spent eating dinner. And half spent sleeping. :XP: Nova, you giggle too much for a boy...
eh? where? [I try to chuckle, honest!] |
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Posted: Tue Mar 20, 2007 8:11 pm
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NovaKing Merenwen99 I’ve been having writer’s block for a while and it’s been driving me nuts. Today, inspired by my writer’s block, I came up with this. A character came to me with the same problem, and now I think I’m over it. What do you think? I love constructive criticism.Writer’s Block
I hate it! she thought. The constant rebellion of my characters! Talk to me, damn it! Tell me your story. Please.
She sat in bed, bent over a blank notebook page, one hand clutching a pencil, the other massaging her eyebrows. It had been weeks since she had written a word. The stories just wouldn’t come to her. Her characters were silent.
The door opened and a man wearing silk pajamas and a robe stepped into the room carrying a candle. “Danielle, don’t you think you ought to go to bed now? It’s nearly 1:00 and you’ve been staring at that notebook for hours.”
Damn, she thought. It’s 1:00 AM and I have to be up by six in the morning.
“Danielle . . . ?”
“I’m sorry, Uncle. I’ll, I’ll go to bed.”
She placed her notebook and pencil on her nightstand and blew out the lamp. “Goodnight, Uncle,” she said.
“Goodnight, Danielle.” He turned, and the light in Danielle’s room from his candle faded as he walked down the hall to his bedroom.
Danielle waited until the she heard his door closed and then relit her lamp. She wondered what was wrong with her. What could she have
possibly done to have offended her characters so that they wouldn’t talk to her?
She took her notebook and pencil from the nightstand. Placing the tip of her pencil on the paper, she let her hand do what it wanted. She looked down. Lines. Lines on blank paper.
What is a word, if not lines on blank paper? she thought. She looked once more at the scribbles she had allowed her hand to draw. A word is nothing, it’s the story behind it. The realization came to her. It wasn’t her words that had held magic, it was the feelings, the stories.
“Now you’ve got it,” a voice said from the end of her bed.
Danielle blinked, surprised, and looked up. A very petite girl was sitting cross-legged at the end of her bed, her pointed chin slightly in the air and a sly smile on her lips. She wore a dark leather tunic and slowly stroked a tiny brown monkey that was sitting on her shoulder. She tossed her head, removing a strand of her sleek, black hair from her face.
Danielle smiled, placing her pencil on the paper once more. Now, she thought, I can write. the parts were I wasn't scared blew my mind. -gigles and runs away-
And you didn't even spell it right...
wink |
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Posted: Tue Mar 20, 2007 8:18 pm
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KirbyVictorious NovaKing Merenwen99 I’ve been having writer’s block for a while and it’s been driving me nuts. Today, inspired by my writer’s block, I came up with this. A character came to me with the same problem, and now I think I’m over it. What do you think? I love constructive criticism.Writer’s Block
I hate it! she thought. The constant rebellion of my characters! Talk to me, damn it! Tell me your story. Please.
She sat in bed, bent over a blank notebook page, one hand clutching a pencil, the other massaging her eyebrows. It had been weeks since she had written a word. The stories just wouldn’t come to her. Her characters were silent.
The door opened and a man wearing silk pajamas and a robe stepped into the room carrying a candle. “Danielle, don’t you think you ought to go to bed now? It’s nearly 1:00 and you’ve been staring at that notebook for hours.”
Damn, she thought. It’s 1:00 AM and I have to be up by six in the morning.
“Danielle . . . ?”
“I’m sorry, Uncle. I’ll, I’ll go to bed.”
She placed her notebook and pencil on her nightstand and blew out the lamp. “Goodnight, Uncle,” she said.
“Goodnight, Danielle.” He turned, and the light in Danielle’s room from his candle faded as he walked down the hall to his bedroom.
Danielle waited until the she heard his door closed and then relit her lamp. She wondered what was wrong with her. What could she have
possibly done to have offended her characters so that they wouldn’t talk to her?
She took her notebook and pencil from the nightstand. Placing the tip of her pencil on the paper, she let her hand do what it wanted. She looked down. Lines. Lines on blank paper.
What is a word, if not lines on blank paper? she thought. She looked once more at the scribbles she had allowed her hand to draw. A word is nothing, it’s the story behind it. The realization came to her. It wasn’t her words that had held magic, it was the feelings, the stories.
“Now you’ve got it,” a voice said from the end of her bed.
Danielle blinked, surprised, and looked up. A very petite girl was sitting cross-legged at the end of her bed, her pointed chin slightly in the air and a sly smile on her lips. She wore a dark leather tunic and slowly stroked a tiny brown monkey that was sitting on her shoulder. She tossed her head, removing a strand of her sleek, black hair from her face.
Danielle smiled, placing her pencil on the paper once more. Now, she thought, I can write. the parts were I wasn't scared blew my mind. -gigles and runs away- And you didn't even spell it right... wink
well, i guess theres nothing to worry about then is there?
[ imature guys gigle sometimes >.>] |
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