Archive for the writing et all Category

Creator ::The Itch::

Posted in writing et all on Sunday, March 11, 2007 by dragonsvamp

Alright. My suspicions are now confirmed. It was all the university’s fault that my writing (not blog writing evidently) and reading have suffered (but mainly my writing). 

Now that I’ve quit school…

I’m already reading like crazy since I dropped out of school (best decision I’ve ever made I believe). So far since the end of January I’ve read four novels (all in about a month and half); Drowned Wednesday, Sir Thursday, Venus in Furs(which I read in less than a day), and I’m almost half way through with A Million Little Pieces which is a 500+ paged deep(writing-wise) book (I’m sure I read another novel but I can’t remember it right at the moment). Though that’s not even close to the usual I had before I started university, it’s still way better than reading a single novel over a two month period.

But I’ve got nothing as cheery to say about my writing. Dark Desire hasn’t seen the light of day in over 8 months and that’s a conservative estimate. 

The thing is I really never got writer’s block for this story. I just couldn’t get myself to write during the time I was at the university. Even though I had tons of ideas and stuff I wanted to write, I would always find an excuse to do something else instead of write.  And before I knew it I found out I couldn’t write anything more for the novel (which is over 35,000 words) until I reread what I’ve already written. That’s sad because it shows how long it’s been since I’ve picked this up. 

Even though I write everything first before I type it up on my computer, I can no longer rely on the notebooks of mine because they are very early first drafts and my stories tend to take a life of their own and evolve and change when I type them up.  Even if the change is small it is still vital.

I, also, know for a fact that I’ve got so much more on the computer than I have in my notebooks.  So that means I have two choices. To print what I’ve written so far (and give my mom a heart attack) or I read it on the computer. Since it’s around 200 pages I don’t have the patience to read it on the computer. And I don’t have the heart to use all the new ink my mom just bought for the printer. And there you have it, before I knew it I had just come up with a huge excuse not to write.

But this time its different. I need to write. I want to write. I’m itching to write.

And so that’s why this excuse will not last very long. Soon (hopefully within the next week) I’ll have figured out a way to print the story (maybe at one of the printing places outside my ex-university or maybe I’ll put my friends to some use by getting them to let me use their IDs and passwords and print the story out using their paid for but unused 100 pages of printing allowed them each semester in campus computer labs- I know I rarely ever used them). 

Either way my fingers are begging me to write and that lame excuse won’t last long. I’m so excited to be writing again! 


Creator ::Fantasy: Could It Ever Be Real?::

Posted in writing et all on Monday, February 26, 2007 by dragonsvamp

Andrew recently wrote about his thoughts on ‘realistic fantasy’. It made me think a bit about it. I’ve always had my own criteria on how I judge a book to be good. I’ve always read fantasy and one of my main (come to think about it ‘unconsious’) criteria was that the author must make the reader believe the store could happen. No matter how out of this world the story is if the author is good the story will captivate the reader and make the reader forget ‘reality’ as he knows it and to a certain point believe the reality that is in the book.

A well written fantasy novel, in my opinion, must feel true. Not necessarily ‘real’ but true. That the characters in the book, though a figment of the author’s imagination, are true. That they exist within the authors imagination. Now for a story to feel ‘true’ the author must make an effort to make the story seem plausible. Of course since it’s fantasy the reader will obviously know that it is not part of reality as we know it. However, the author can either make the reader forget reality as we know it or create a new ‘possible’ reality.

All ‘realities’ must have explanations; they must have reasons; and above all the world must be real to the characters. So if you magically were transported into that world everything should make sense around you to a certain point of course.

I’ve never thought of ‘realistic fantasy’ being an oxymoron but now that I think about it I understand how it could be taken that way. As a first impression it could be an oxymoron but that’s just on the surface. We as ‘humans’ can only comprehend things within a limit. So a story that doesn’t explain things so that the mere mortal may comprehend it is a poorly written story. The reader can not know what is going on inside the author’s mind/imagination so the author must go into details on certain things so that the reader may understand where the author is coming from. And ‘fantasy’ doesn’t completely cancel out ‘reality’ from it’s vocabulary.

I must say I’ve read many novels and stories where the author is able to make a completely impossible story seem so real.

Creator ::Over 10 Years::

Posted in writing et all on Tuesday, February 13, 2007 by dragonsvamp

Well Andrew (a new blog I’m beginning to frequent) made a post, a few days ago, about when he first began writing two years ago.  He asked all his readers how we began our different journeys in writing.

So here’s my story.  I started writing when I was about seven or eight.  And the first piece of creative writing I came up with was a poem. A poem about a rock.  I have no idea why I decided to write or anything but I think it was just something spontaneous and random. Not something I planned or thought of before writing.  I just had a pencil and paper on me and since I’m not much of a drawer I just put that pencil to the paper and started writing. I wrote the poem in a few minutes and ran out to show it to my parents.  I might have touched up the memory but I remember it so clearly.  I was so proud of it and it all rhymed!

Now over ten years later (and a handful of short stories, poems, and longer stories under my belt) I must say that I am actually very happy that I do not have an original copy of it but it went something like ‘I walk, you talk, about a rock…’ You get the picture.

But that’s what I needed to spur me on to the path of writing and even if it’s only a hobby right now, I will never stop.

So if you are a writer, or have writing tendencies: Tell us what began it all?

Poems ::#3::

Posted in WORK ::POETRY:: on Thursday, October 12, 2006 by dragonsvamp

So here is a poem I wrote today while being bored at the university watching some dudes messing around with kc’s cape…

I’m falling

Drowning in my own tears

Darkness surrounds me

Has been surrounding me

For as long as I can remember

Sitting in a cold room

A dank, cold, metallic room

Locked in my mind

I shout, get me out!

Out of this self made prison

Help me!

Yet no one listens closely

And though I scream on the inside

I smile on the outside

And no one’s the wiser

Can’t you see?

I’m banging on the walls

The walls of my cold room

Scratching the smooth grey surface

Trying to claw my way out

Why will no one hear my shouts?

I cry out, ‘please!’

But to them I just smile and act accordingly

This self made hell

Was once a sanctuary

I used to run to it

Welcoming its coolness

Its dankness

Run away from reality to my sanctuary

Now it’s my grave

And I don’t know how to get out

Someone please help me!

I’m falling

Drowning in my own tears

Locked in the metal room

The square box in my mind

I scream till my voice went hoarse

I scream till I could scream no more

I no longer expect salvation

I no longer think I want it

I am the one who created my prison

So I’m on my own to break free

I don’t know why I had to call out

There is no point to rely on others

Before I can rely on myself

I’m no longer screaming

I’m no longer crying

I need to get out of here by myself

I don’t need anyone

But someone did come

And helped me get back onto my feet

Just when I no longer tried

Salvation came

He helped me find the door

Helped me remember

How to feel that other than despair

How to see that other than darkness

And though I finally had been willing

To find the way out myself

I needed him to guide me

Lest I fall back into my prison

A cold grey prison

One that I had fashioned for myself

I am no longer screaming

I am no longer falling

I am no longer drowning

And though I cry, tears coursing down my face

It’s no longer the cry of the desperate

Poems Cont’ed

Posted in WORK ::POETRY:: on Thursday, July 20, 2006 by dragonsvamp

Here are a few poems I wrote yesterday and today…Will have them up in the ‘Pages’ section soon…



I Care Not 

My mother dies, my brother

My sister dies, yet I care not

A wall of poison ivy encircles me

And I feel not

A wall as wide as it is long

Renders me deaf to this world

And I hear not

So thick this wall

Through it I can not see

Nor do I care to

Within this wall nothing penetrates

Within this wall I am safe

Within this wall

I see not

I hear not

I feel not

I care not

My mother dies, my brother

My sister dies, and with every death

A bit of me dies as well

And though I die slowly

I have yet

To feel

To see

To hear

To care

For life is but a fleeting memory

And I but a passenger on this short journey

My mother dies, my brother

My sister dies, yet I care not.





Looking out of my tower

I shudder and turn my back to the window

I do not want to see

To see the pain the world is going through

I close my eyes

I do not want to hear

To hear the cries of those in pain

I cover my ears

I do not want to feel

What they are feeling

I keep my back to the window

And block everything out

Safe in my tower





Smiling, deceiving

Happy? Who are you kidding?

Suicidal? Perhaps

Homicidal? Most probably

Yet an angel all the same

No one suspecting

No one doubting

Got the world wrapped around a finger

Burning it while looking the other way

Suicidal? Perhaps

Homicidal? Most likely

Destructive? Without a doubt

Happy? Who are you kidding?


Posted in WORK ::POETRY:: on Wednesday, January 11, 2006 by dragonsvamp

Poem #1:    White Wings

Swooping down on white wings 

Landing next to thy motionless body

Thy heartbeats are slowing to a stop

Its white claws grabbing hold of thy soul

Shaking thy soul, it askes three things

Answer correctly and thou shalt live eternally

Answer incorrectly and thou shalt forever live in pain

Death on white wings soars away from thee

For thou hast answered incorrectly

Poem 2:

I gaze down at thy motionless body

A glint of steel flashes from my hand

The moonlight’s rays fall in from the window

It plays on the dagger in my hand

Thee grunts like a pig

and turns around in thy bed

thee rests in an undisturbed sleep

My hand raises, my eyes close

I sigh and in depression lower my hand

I can not do it, my courage hath failed me

I leave thy bloated living body

I have shamed myself for thee still lives

But I have done the better thing

comments are appreciated!