Post by Idazle on Apr 5, 2014 17:54:56 GMT -5
1. When it comes time to write, it is like I am saying “no” to everything else in existence and becoming one with my own imagination.
2. Many people have tried to teach me how to write, but how can you teach someone how to breathe?
3. Friends have asked me to go outside. “Put down the computer,” they said. “There’s more to life than writing.” Obviously, they do not know my life.
4. The keys on the keyboard click and clatter. Peaceful to me, but it’s an annoyance to anyone else in the room forced to hear my fingers move at 90 words per minute.
5. No one else in the room. All is peaceful and quiet until I play my music at full blast. With my fingers tapping along to the beat, I am unstoppable.
6. I stare out the window. They say inspiration can be found anywhere, but I don’t see how a clump of grass would be of any assistance in any way, shape, or form.
7. Writer’s block: the bane of my existence. It clamps over my mind like a steel cage.
8. There is no such thing as writer’s block my instructor used to tell me. I still think she’s wrong.
9. I wonder how the professionals deal with writer’s block. Do they find some way to just plow through or do they simply take a break? So man questions, so little answers…
10. Twenty-five thousand…a point for giving up…push through…must make it past…always…there is a way…always…
11. A burst of imagination comes, but does it really have to come at two in the morning?
12. A rainbow of notebooks covers the floor. Each one contains a new beginning, a new idea, a new ending. If only I could actually compile them all with the ease it takes in my imagination.
13. An entire month spent sleeplessly staring at my computer. I begin to wonder if my hands have become a part of the keyboard and my eyes attached to the screen.
14. The alarm clock chirps. Why must school interfere with my writing?
15. Adults scoff, thinking that my goal is too large for anyone my age. Although they most likely are jealous that they cannot write a story themselves. I know that I can prove them wrong.
16. Some people find that authors are antisocial, but it is really just the opposite. Authors simply choose to interact with those they have made out of nothing. An author always has a large group of friends by their side.
17. I write not so that I can gain fame. I write so I can be an inspiration to other people my age.
18. Writing for fame isn’t writing at all. Writing should be a personal relationship between oneself and his/her work. It is not trying to become the most popular or most famous.
19. At times, life just seems too hard to bear, but writing always offers that much needed release.
20. The home stretch, the final five thousand. It feels as though it should be easiest, yet it is always the most difficult.
21. My inner editor hisses in my ear, trying to tell me to give up because the last 45,000 words were trash and that I must start over again. I tell my inner editor to be silent. I wonder if it is illegal to kidnap a figment of my imagination.
22. Only one day left. Sweat beads on my brow. True, there is no real prize for succeeding, but who needs any reward other than the satisfaction that you have just created something out of nothing?
23. The word count flips from 49,999 to 50,000. All good things must come to an end.
24. I flip through my calendar. I refuse to let this writing marathon come to an end. November looks like a good month to get back to work.
2. Many people have tried to teach me how to write, but how can you teach someone how to breathe?
3. Friends have asked me to go outside. “Put down the computer,” they said. “There’s more to life than writing.” Obviously, they do not know my life.
4. The keys on the keyboard click and clatter. Peaceful to me, but it’s an annoyance to anyone else in the room forced to hear my fingers move at 90 words per minute.
5. No one else in the room. All is peaceful and quiet until I play my music at full blast. With my fingers tapping along to the beat, I am unstoppable.
6. I stare out the window. They say inspiration can be found anywhere, but I don’t see how a clump of grass would be of any assistance in any way, shape, or form.
7. Writer’s block: the bane of my existence. It clamps over my mind like a steel cage.
8. There is no such thing as writer’s block my instructor used to tell me. I still think she’s wrong.
9. I wonder how the professionals deal with writer’s block. Do they find some way to just plow through or do they simply take a break? So man questions, so little answers…
10. Twenty-five thousand…a point for giving up…push through…must make it past…always…there is a way…always…
11. A burst of imagination comes, but does it really have to come at two in the morning?
12. A rainbow of notebooks covers the floor. Each one contains a new beginning, a new idea, a new ending. If only I could actually compile them all with the ease it takes in my imagination.
13. An entire month spent sleeplessly staring at my computer. I begin to wonder if my hands have become a part of the keyboard and my eyes attached to the screen.
14. The alarm clock chirps. Why must school interfere with my writing?
15. Adults scoff, thinking that my goal is too large for anyone my age. Although they most likely are jealous that they cannot write a story themselves. I know that I can prove them wrong.
16. Some people find that authors are antisocial, but it is really just the opposite. Authors simply choose to interact with those they have made out of nothing. An author always has a large group of friends by their side.
17. I write not so that I can gain fame. I write so I can be an inspiration to other people my age.
18. Writing for fame isn’t writing at all. Writing should be a personal relationship between oneself and his/her work. It is not trying to become the most popular or most famous.
19. At times, life just seems too hard to bear, but writing always offers that much needed release.
20. The home stretch, the final five thousand. It feels as though it should be easiest, yet it is always the most difficult.
21. My inner editor hisses in my ear, trying to tell me to give up because the last 45,000 words were trash and that I must start over again. I tell my inner editor to be silent. I wonder if it is illegal to kidnap a figment of my imagination.
22. Only one day left. Sweat beads on my brow. True, there is no real prize for succeeding, but who needs any reward other than the satisfaction that you have just created something out of nothing?
23. The word count flips from 49,999 to 50,000. All good things must come to an end.
24. I flip through my calendar. I refuse to let this writing marathon come to an end. November looks like a good month to get back to work.
and that kills me