of titles and things.

it seems to be a trend in the y-chromosome population of the class to have no title. some of the stories so far have had titles, and then now, a lot of them don't. some stories i'm able to help with a title (such as david's "purgatorio del mare" [purgatory of the sea] and john's "checkmate") but yeah. and don't get me wrong, it's hard to come up with a title.

for my story, it wasn't hard really. kayla and i discussed the relative outline of the story and the title was where we started. it all expounded from there... so it really depends when you name your story.

brotherhood.

okay, no, not the type of brotherhood that goes around assassinating people or anything, but a TRIAD. and by that, i also do not mean the chinese mafia. nope, nothing like that at all. ...although half of the triad is chinese if that counts for anything.

1.1.11

yet another year that i have to accustom myself to writing. i'm sure that half of my school papers will end up with a "10" on them instead of an "11." so, a couple things about writing and then some things not about writing.

fading/vanishing characters.

so one thing i know that i'm good at is being super negligent and leaving characters out.

the power of words.

some words by themselves can just have really "bam" effects. sorry for my horribad. for instance:

empty.

broken.

goodbye.

power.

there is a story behind each of these words. and like juli's story, "saudade," there is a whole boatload of emotions that come along for the ride. this is why it's so important that we as writers continue to choose our words carefully. select the wrong word, and you might end up picking your father with your dear old potato. (spanish speakers, i'm sure you can figure that one out.)

i love my (extended) family.

okay, i posted this here but was thinking about how to tie it into writing. i think i got it.

pink has been having insane character dialogues between herself and her main character. while she thinks this is crazy, i think it's great--it's only going to help her develop the character in her story very well. i should probably try and do the same with my characters to flesh them out and help them to find the right words in which to respond.

tying this in, characters should be a sort of extended family to the author, quite honestly. we should be able to know them on such a level that we know their exact mannerisms, their exact speech, and exactly how they act and feel. in some ways, you parent your character are best friends with your character to the point where you consider them family. now i'm not saying that you should go and ask your characters to counsel you on life's problems--they probably won't help you there since they are constructs of your imagination (and maybe sometimes your subconscious), but you need to know them well. when you're writing the story, the characters are your best friends, and you're simply telling their story through your eyes. you simply just happen to be playing god, and this is probably the best time to be doing so.

reward video for you guys for dealing with my three posts in one day. :D

stories -- your own, personal cannibal.

travesty. three blogposts in one day. how could i.


anyway.
on page 13 in the writing life dillard brings up the fact that "we have no choice" in finding what to spin a story off of. she equivocates an idea to a "strip from our own thighs." and i agree with her. the best stories and reflective pieces that i have written come from my own person experience. starsandthemoon can also relate (even though i equivocate her to taylor swift, to her chagrin) as most of her pieces are just spin-offs of her life. and then it's also a bit of lovetowrite2011's wisdom too--the experience that we went through is so personal to us. if you haven't gone through heartbreak, don't write a story about it. if you've never lost someone, don't write a story about it. if you've never been in love, don't write a story about it. a kind of echoey answer to waysofgettinghome's blogpost here, as well. if you've never had sex, don't write a story about it.

stories and shoutouts

so here we are, at blog post one hundred and ten. will i ever stop? maybe. important question!


but more importanter (that's not a word) are the stories. i just skimmed through both of them. mira's has a fantastic ending line that just made me smile like crazy, and then blender has an awesome opening because there is buttery sunlight and thanks for making my day, dear sir. and yeah.

to those who have beta'd for me, thanks a ton! your advice is totally valued, and really helpful. huge shoutout to brainbroth who gives herself way less credit than she deserves. more shoutouts to catandamouse, nameless, and blender for also beta-ing and helping me come up with fabu-tastic endings. additionally, for those of you who want another eye for your story, i'm open to it! a note in advance--i tend to take awhile on these 'cuz i mark up what i like and what i think can be changed. just make sure to give me a couple hours ahead of time to work my magic.

abp#7:old friends, brand new eyes.

first things first. to those of you who got the paramore reference, congratulations. please don't be ignorant, please don't play god, and above all, let someone be the only exception.

anyways.

to be honest, this isn't the first short story that i've ever written (well.. but it is the first one finished, at least). sure, the other stuff that i've tried my hand at were just total honest junk and trash (although there are some things that i've written which are not!) and storywriting is kind of an old friend that i keep meeting up with. however, it's an old friend that somehow looks different all the time. either that, or i'm seeing it through different eyes. also, there are some days on which i'm able to take a hold of the writing and really just craft beautiful worlds with my words--others, on which i cannot. take some of my blogposts. some of the postsecret stories are just not that good. sure, they could be better with (lots and lots of) revision, but sometimes, they are just bad. some of my muses are bad, and sometimes i'm just bad with words. to me, writing this short story has been revisiting my old friend, viewing it in a new light yet again. i've managed to choose my words okay, but of course writing begs and demands that i do it better.

how to end a story.

now that i've written up the first draft of "the longest recess," i'm really stumped about how to end it well. i know that i've wrapped up several loose ends (and left one hanging purposely) but i have a problem pulling out of the story. i know that it's good to get opinions, but i don't want to run it by many people for fear of dampening the surprise.. i think i might keep it a maximum of five people who get to help me make my ending better. blender's already given his input, so one down, four to go.

planning.

so it really seems to me that every time i try and plan something, it fails epicly. all in terms of writing, of course.

for instance, my original short story was going to be based off of roflpets and a prank. i made a story map out of it, but then i tried to write the actual thing. that didn't go so well. i found myself just writing to get from point a to point b, and not really showing everything that unfolded. everything just happened, and i didn't do the story justice by just telling about everything. so, maybe with short stories, you don't really need planning--you just need the premise, what happens in general, and all of that. then, just write, write, write, write your heart out. choose the right words (pun intended) so that everything happens as you picture it--you don't want some part of your world not functioning just because you didn't choose the right word.

movies, and how they are stories.

so, a group of us (sorry everyone, there weren't enough letters to evenly link so starsandthemoon got an entire word. love you~) got together today to watch the worst movie EVAR best movie in the world: mega shark vs. giant octopus.

now, let me start this off by saying that i personally knew it would be bad, it was pimped badly on livejournal. i think i let everyone else know this, and maybe we all knew this because of the faces of the actors on the box just tipped us off. like a lot. additionally, actor credits are le horrible. 'cuz lorenzo lamas is just a horrible person and he honestly said (to the japanese character): don't worry, we're not taking you to manzanar. which is absopositively horrible, and america just sucks.

anyway, we all tromped over to kayla's house to watch this thing trainwreck brain-numbing mush movie. people, watch it. watch it with friends to make it better. we made so much commentary that we didn't even know what was really happening. for instance, there was a scene where the characters suddenly decided to make out, and we didn't even know. like, seriously. there was no context, no nothing aside from a sketchy porno night that we deemed happened ourselves. and by ourselves, i mean that i kinda yelled that and we decided it was so. and then, ace hannah (being the genious director he is) decided to make the characters do the nasty. (but not onscreen, 'cuz that's icky and like the matrix.) once again, no context aside from the fact that the two characters got horny in the laboratory because they were doing chemistry junk (which was really pouring water with different food coloring in it together) and then decided, hey, we're doing chemistry, oh wait, we're doing chemistry and we have chemistry so let's snog and make babbies but in all reality this was just a device for them to realize that they could lure giant animals into largely populated bays with pheromones! and they had to have sex to realize this! (and the pheromones were a glow-in-the-dark green. go figure.)

anyways. my point. right.
there was no flow in the movie. horrid transitions, even more horrible storyline. but, i really think this could've been a slightly more decent movie with just better everything. and by everything, i mean everything that we've learned to do in our class as we've learned how to write fiction. ('cuz that movie, people, is pure fiction. i'm pretty sure we won't find a megalodon cryogenically preserved in a glacier up near alaska.) and my final comment about it is that it falls into the category of "so bad that it's good."

a thanks, and reflections.

to those who responded to mobile2: need. i really appreciated your comments--it was uplifting to me.

also, the stories so far. they are interesting. both have taken interesting viewpoints on traditional things. a second-person view, and then a charmed life view on the question of what is reality. what i must say though that really irks and upsets me is when the characters are flat, one-dimensional, and have no yearning. as professor cross said, yearning is what drives the character. without yearning, the character is still words, a flat being with no life, no direction, no anything. the character is still words. it is our duty as writers to find, mold, and create our characters with their flaws. characters are supposed to be a portrait of the human news, about people's shortcomings. if characters do not have flaws or yearnings, they are one dimensional, still letters on a page. only once a character has things that hurt them, things that they yearn for, and shortcomings that inhibit them do they become a full-fledged character, a magical being woven from words that lives and breathes.

that is our duty as writers. to show the human news in our characters, to create worlds woven from words that live and breathe. that, friends, is what writing is.

edit:
elapse is a beautiful story. the time passage is done amazingly, it moves like a song. this is probably the best story i've read so far, the first to move me to tears. second person draws me in like nothing other, and there is so much attachment built up with the characters that i didn't even realize until the tears almost fell from my eyes. so a congratulations to you, dear sir!

silver water, and communism.

so far, as of this moment (11:00 pm), i have only read silver water. i loved it. maybe because i love stories about the crazies, or maybe because i am one myself question mark.

agh2o (see what i did there? i'm definitely a dork.):
i'm not sure i really got why rose went crazy slash how she was crazy. she just seemed to not have any limitations on what she said slash did, thereby making her crazy only to society. also, bloom uses amazing metaphors, like the gold and silver voices, etc. i really super liked it! now, to address pov. 1st person. i'm not sure what else i'm supposed to say about pov... really. also, time passage on 78 is really really All Sorts of Wonderful. "watched the stars fade... and when they were invisible" and i was like oh my goodness, i wish i could write this goodly (that's not a word).

now, for communism. jay kay, communist.
(can't think of anything witty):
umm... what a weird story. i didn't like it. told from 1st person again, don't know what to do with that.

reflections on girl. why is there no boy? muse:human

so, girl. (SO, GURRRRRRRL.)
no, but this was an interesting story. it was from a "teacher" point of view, telling a girl how to be a girl. kinda. which was just hilarious to read because kincaid was constantly like "don't be a slut like i know you wanna be" and i'm just over here laughing my head off. 'scuse me, i'm a boy. write a story for me please? :) in other words, i liked this one.

muse:
as i stare at his retreating figure, i finally feel some trace of regret. but not much, just a sliver. the wind blows my hair, and some strands flow across my eyes. i hate it when that happens. he's finally out of sight, but i think i can still see him from my vantage point up here on this beautiful hill. this beautiful hill that i'm going to hate for the rest of my life, simply because every time i come here, it'll remind me of what happened here. who knows, later, it might make me cry or smile, but for now it makes me angry. and sad. and all sorts of other emotions, but that's for another time. but... to risk my heart and put it on the line. that's not being stupid is it? isn't it just the same as just living, just being human?

musica, and oh my goodness. oh, and how to become a writer and also a bit of you're ugly, too.

so addressing oh em gee first:
i stayed away from the blog the entire weekend! well... more like since friday. which is easily explainable really... i had internship and then got home, ate dinner, and then went to youth group. and then saturday i... actually did a whole lot of nothing and maybe some chem (and by some, i mean like none at all, for those who are super curious) but yeah. and then today, i went to work, got home and then cleaned my room for my new desk (yay! now while i don't have a new computer, it sure as heck seems like i have a new one.) and then finally started on my homework... blog, whatever. i should do hw. really.

musicas. yes. mui importante. (that's about the extent of my spanish knowledge, don't get your hopes up.) brooke fraser has a new single (well... relatively new) called "something in the water." it's really country-esque and i'm kinda addicted to it (diane can testify to this) and then taylor swift's album is coming out this month and it's just All Sorts of Awesome. really.

how to become a writer was just All Sorts of Hilarious and it was great. lorrie moore has just an amazing style and i love it because it's hilarious in a snarky way, and she's just really really great. and then you're ugly, too has some great lines. i think i texted them to kayla, and they were just really great non-sequiturs... as follows:

• i swear, if this fucking xerox machine breaks on me one more time, i'm going to slit my wrists.
• a painting like that, it just makes you shit. 

and yeah. :) i haven't finished reading it yet, so no spoilers plx. okay. i shall go study for psych now. D:

a temporary matter (of life and death?)

wow.
that's all i have to say about this story. (in case you can't hear my tone of voice through the typed characters, i like this story.)
lahiri is so talented at crafting settings, it's a little ridiculous. now i couldn't picture the characters, but that's not the focus of the story. until baltimore was mentioned, i pictured shukumar and shoba living somewhere in new york city, in more of the suburb-ish areas in a house just like the one from the stuart little movie. i could picture it all, and it was thanks to all the tiny details and nuances of setting that lahiri chose to include. it was pretty freaking amazing.

also, lahiri did a really good job at describing her characters--the way shoba sleeps, the way that shukumar knows how his wife looks like even in the dark... it was done extremely well. i'm thinking that one of the reasons why i liked all these details so much is because that's what i want in a significant other (which makes perfect sense)--i want someone who can tell how i'm feeling not by what i say but by my eyes, i want someone who just knows me inside and out (don't go places with that comment).

the darkness in the story was used so well to just show secrecy... and even when the lights went back on, shukumar and shoba still felt the need to confide to each other their final secrets in the dark. and i guess sometimes we need that separation, whether it's over the internet, through the phone, or just sitting together in the dark.

those three we had to read over the weekend?

i never did a reflection post on them! although... maybe that's 'cuz i didn't really like/get/whatever any of them. MAYBE. or i just slacked. that too.

a good scent from a strange mountain:
this story was... rather interesting. butler ties the smell of sugar on ho's hands throughout the story to weave a semi-consistent motif (if you will) kinda showing the fluidity of time in the narrator's mind. in relation to yearning... hrm. dao (the narrator) yearned for unity in his family while ho yearned for unity in his country. the line that really sticks with me is the very ending, where dao finally realizes that ho came maybe not only to say goodbye, but to understand him as well. dao knew that "you had to understand everything or you would be incomplete forever." i addressed this point in class, but i'm not so sure how well it got across. so... here we go. life is a giant kitchen. everything you come in contact with is one of the smells. dao came in contact with ho. he "got" him for awhile, but after they parted ways, not so much. ho became one of the smells dao no longer understood, and he was incomplete. before dao passed away, ho appeared to try and understand their time apart and their time together, thereby making the ho-smell (um... that didn't come out well) understandable to dao. since he was finally complete, he was able to pass away. but that's my perspective?

robert kennedy saved from drowning:
i personally didn't like this story. i know it shows bits and pieces of the main character through many different situations, but... i think i like a character that is gradually revealed to me (not like this though?). when it's bits and pieces, i have to do the hard work of piecing them together to get the whole picture. like i said before, i'm a big-picture guy, fitting together many little pictures doesn't work so well for me.

fiesta, 1980:
this one, although it was by junot diaz (finally realized i was spelling his name wrong, ops) i liked this one. it wasn't quite as coarse as nilda, and also we saw a return of some of the same characters (i love it when that happens!), letting us see another facet of them. in nilda, we saw rafa as just kind of this dude who got the chicks, was compassionate in his own way, and then... that was it. i felt like i liked the characters better in this short than in nilda. i'm not exactly sure what the main character yearned for... maybe a stronger stomach?

abp#2: pulling myself from between the letters.

lemme say in short that i tend not to pay a large amount of attention to people.
i'm a big-picture guy, and the little details (unless hilariously creepy or just utterly funny) don't stand out to me. i know people's mannerisms, but only slightly. if someone were to do something, i could probably say, "i knew that they'd do that." and now you want me to answer this about my skills at recognizing styles? um.... it doesn't get any better. i can pick out diaz's style, only because it's so unique--he never really uses quotations, he italicizes, he has his own individual voice (which i like, i think) and... that's all i can really think of. to phrase it badly, "i know it when i see it." butler's style is harder--i don't think i know how to pick it out as well. i would feel safe saying that i probably don't even know how to pull it out from between the letters.

as for my writing... i myself cannot distinguish a certain pattern. ask more little-picture people about my writing, and maybe i'll say, "yeah, that sounds about right." i know that mostly in my muses, it's been a sad portraiture of my inner landscape, and maybe that's my style. i never seem to be able to write well when i'm happy--just in the midst of sadness or heartbreak, that's when the ink flows. well... that or when i'm feeling creative enough. when that is, i don't really have any idea. also, adding on to my big-picture-ness, if you've read any of my muses, you'll notice that there's no exact setting--i'm horrible at constructing a setting. make me an architect of a dream, and you'll just find yourself in a generic somewhere generated from a memory of mine (sorry, the connection had to be made). i miss small details of the setting, i give just barely enough to get by. why i do this, i don't really know. my signature, i guess, is... that's a good question, actually. what do you think?

reflections on jealous husband the parrot, and muse:fallen

so. this is also another one of my favorite stories that we've read so far! mainly because i could imagine the bird doing all of these things, and it brings back bittersweet memories.

butler did an amazing job of putting things into the bird's point of view--and now it makes me want to write a story from the point of view of a pet. it'd be really interesting to do, as well as just plain fun.

favorite lines:

• "i flap my wings and i squawk and i fluff up and i slick down and i throw seed and i attack that dangly toy as if it was the guy's balls, but it does no good." (i can just picture a parrot doing this. and while we would think that the parrot was only restless and wanting to play, this gives insight on what might've been going on in the animal's mind. it's quite funny, actually. the throwing seed part made me laugh because i remember one time we tried to feed my bird lettuce. he kicked it.)
• "even though i know there is something between me and that place where i can be free of all these feelings, i will fly. i will throw myself again and again there. pretty bird. bad bird. good night." (this was my favorite but not in like a happy way or anything! it just made me heartbroken that the narrator could do nothing really to express his love for his wife. additionally, i can relate to this because sometimes life just hurts too much and i just want things to just go away so i can live in peace. or die in peace. whichever one, really.)

muse:

he had decided that morning that everything he did would be to impress her, the girl of his dreams. he could explain math problems to her, share insight in english class, the list went on and on. and last of all, before she left, she would see him getting into his car and drive away like the cool, mature person that he was. 

he didn't expect it to all backfire. the insight-she had seen it already. she didn't even pay attention when he opened his mouth, letting loose the new knowledge that he thought was so revolutionary. but it didn't stop there. math problems-he couldn't even begin to explain them. he knew the concept, but he didn't really know it. so when questions arose for her, all he could do was blink in frustration at feeling so helpless. after school had brought about even more failures-he couldn't even catch her eye, summon the courage to talk, walk the same direction as her, look in her direction without feeling failure. and as he swung the car door shut in the parking lot, he didn't see her waiting on the sidewalk as she usually did. he slumped in his seat. his hopes were dashed, he was crestfallen. but tomorrow was another day, another try, another time to just build up that courage to talk to her. just to fix things up.