Thursday, June 10, 2010

I'm published!

Sort of, I guess, haha x]

My heart goes out to the wonderful Shuichi Cullen for giving me such a beautiful and thoughtful gift. :] It's so legit - it even has an ISBN number and a bar code on the back cover! xD

The title of the work comes from a project that I wrote last winter, as well as a poem - "Words I Can't Say". For him, he sees it as a piece that epitomizes my writing: "The title suggests that the words she can't say are those that she would simply prefer not to say, but in some senses, it can be interpreted that the speaker is simply unable to speak them."

What makes this book even more special and dear to my heart is that it's not just a book full of my works from these past three years. Oh no. Shuichi actually sat down and organized the poetry and prose into an order he found logical and wrote a thoughtful analysis and opinion on each.

And the thing is, his analysis of my writing is just about always spot on. When you have a close friend who you love and just knows you inside and out, it shows. Initially, Shuichi gave me pretty jewelry for gifts because he didn't know what else to do. And that wasn't a problem for me. I loved it! :) But now we've become so close that he knows what I like. He makes such wonderfully personal birthday cards, and as you can see, just spectacular birthday gifts. :]<333

My heart swells with the time and love he must have put into this. ♥

And the dedication. Oh my goodness, I feel like I should share it with you because it really warmed my heart. (It's been slightly paraphrased to protect his privacy and my own, fyi, but not much x])

As a wee lad of a youthful age, my passions for writing were, to say the least, uninspired. I'd wrote before, and I still wrote, from time to time. But simply writing just doesn't cut it for those who strive to be authors, the stupendous masters of the written word that imagine, create, and render completely novel. I know from hindsight, now, that what began my new uprising into the literary world was one person, a person whose own writing stimulated worlds of fantasy, thoughts of romance, and paragraphs of emotional angst and pain. Her name is Rose Lee.

We began the 2009 NaNoWriMo as aspiring authors, and together, despite the struggles that it presented, along with the never-ending schoolwork, we triumphed by the end, passing the 50,000-word mark. Besides being an exhiliarating moment of success, we also rejoiced in how we both had managed to encourage each other, and we acknowledged that without the efforts of the other, we may never had reached that monumental goal.

Long after NaNoWriMo, she and I are still writing fiends, although school always seems to get in the way. As is evidenced by the works to come, she was, is, and always will be a vicarious writer whose pencil, pen, and keyboard will forever shine.

Here's to you, Rose.

That second to last sentence really gets me. :") Honestly. ~<3

I... I hope he realizes, though it's not always said in words, that I sincerely love him, and I don't want him to ever leave my life. I love you so, so much, Shuichi Cullen. <3

Monday, May 17, 2010

Trapped in a doll's house

It's been a very long time since I've been excited over an English assignment, haha. x] My very last English essay of this year, and my teacher has permitted us a creative writing option, where I have much more free rein! :D I'm so happy(: I have to do it on the play A Doll's House (Et dukkehjem in Norwegian) by Henrik Ibsen. My feelings on it are rather neutral, but I can't say I detested it, I suppose. x]]]

The three act play tells the story of Nora and Torvald Helmer and is set in the same room the entire time. It has been hailed as a feminist play, though Ibsen had not intentionally meant for it to be taken that way. He had written it for a female friend of his, to encourage her to be strong and independent, I believe. He conveys the societal norms of marriage and family life in Norway, and one can clearly see the strong chauvinistic views of Norwegian men, as well as how easily women simply accept it as the way of life. For example, women are not permitted to sign or hold contracts; that is for the man to handle.

"When I was at home with Papa, he told me his opinion about everything,
and so I had the same opinions; and if I differed from him I concealed the fact, because he would not have liked it. He called me his doll-child, and he played with me just as I used to play with my dolls...I have been your doll-wife, just as at home I was Papa's doll-child; and here the children have been my dolls. I thought it great fun when you played with me, just as they thought it great fun when I played with them. That is what our marriage has been, Torvald."

I won't say too much, but I would love if you would read it to help me out when I post up my piece(s) on dA. :] It's a short read, perhaps a couple hours tops.

On another note, I'm actually in the process of writing a short story for a contest on dA, and funnily enough it has to do with dolls as well :D Be on the lookout for that as well. C:

"When I was a child, I believed that my toys would talk behind my back and have parties while I was away. I’m twenty-five years old, and I still believe that."
~"What a Doll"

Friday, April 2, 2010

The ink runs dry

as I prepare for essentially pure hell in April and May @-@

Sorry I've been so inactive on the netz lately. School is literally taking over my life. ._.

I did manage, however, to write up a vignette that I had been mulling over for a while. \o/ Always a good start to be writing little pieces at the very least. But even the ink in my poem well has gone dry o-o;; And those come to me so naturally.

Once June hits and finals are over, I promise I'll be roaring with ideas if I'm not playing Pokemanz. :D

But I thought I'd just make a quick comment on how useful dreams can be. :) No joke, I highly recommend that writers have a dream journal that they keep near their bed. Our subconscious concocts wonderful plot bunnies and spins these lovely little yarns every night. Don't you want to keep those little gems someplace safe?

The scene I wrote about a girl playing her violin didn't come from me, actually. Contrary to the vague author's comment I wrote on dA. And the idea has been collecting dust in the back of my mind for a while. I think it was in February or so.


In reality, this dream came from the protagonist himself, Kevin.

I was talking with Kevin and "Rachel" before our concert, and he randomly mentions that he dreamt about me. Playing the violin. In the rain.

I found the idea both amusing and fascinating, and "Kiss the Rain" was born on a late March evening. xD

Yeah, I'm "Felicity". The names have been deliberatly changed, obviously. xp Except for Kevin. For some odd reason, I felt that his name fit perfectly without any alterations, so I didn't change it.

I think mentally and creatively, dreams are wonderfully helpful, as a means of inspiration and just rethinking yourself. :)

A few recommendations, tips, trivia, etc:

1. It's hard to remember dreams! We have quite a few a night. When you first wake up in the morning, have your journal at the ready with a writing implement and start jotting down all the details you remember right away. With practice you'll get better.

2. Get a pretty journal to write in. :D Not too pretty that you won't dare write in it, but nice enough that it'll encourage you to write them down.

3. Personally, I find it fun to look up what experts say about your dreams. Check it out, and see if your subconscious is trying to tell you something. When you're aware of that, sometimes it helps develop a theme if you plan to write on it later. :]

4. Talk to other people about their dreams! Sometimes, people have some weird/wacky/enlightening dreams, and they make lovely stories. :3

5. Random fact: Most people, do, in fact, dream in color. :)

Always dream in technicolor, kids ♥

Friday, February 26, 2010


...Grasp a pen and begin
Scritch scratch

Trembling fingers

Knuckles cracking
Bench creaking

Dance across steel and ivory

Eyes up front

Freeze, then
Breathe out

Let's give a round of applause

I was talking to Shuichi one day about a few piano songs by Enya he wanted me to learn, and it gave me a few story ideas, but even more than that, it got me to thinking.

If I lost the use of my hands for any reason, I think I would die. Honestly. Not just because we use our hands for everyday things like holding things and moving them and the like. But for the wonderful things we do with our hands to create.

I can write stories with my hands.
I can make music with my hands.
I can create.

I started to think about how lost I would be with writing or music. If I couldn't do either of them, I'd be completely devastated.

I think a few months ago, I was talking with Yuki how cool it would be to get together with a small group of friends to make an ensemble and play in a public place together to collect money for a charity for deaf children.

Living in a world where you couldn't hear a thing and everything is silent... How terrible. :/

And yesterday, Shuichi and I were discussing perhaps starting a write-a-thon of sorts at our school to raise money for NaNo.

I would love to do both of these things. I think I just might do both.

I feel lucky. I have hands. I have ears. I can create. I can make things better. ♥

Friday, February 12, 2010

This is me trying to give a pep talk to myself young writers

After receiving my first critique on deviantART from Kazaein on a short philosophical piece I wrote about a year ago and recently submitting the first in the Heavenly Virtues project that I've put on myself, I've been thinking.

Writers are always dreaming and cooking up new ideas for a new work. But let's be a bit realistic here - not all of those ideas are going to be out of this world phenomenal. You'll have those off days when something you initially thought was a great idea turns out flat when you actually sit down and write it all out.

I'm sorta feelin' that way with my Virtues project. :/

But that doesn't mean that your story is completely beyond help and unsalvageable.

Ah, the wonders of editing. ^^ Snip a word here, trim a phrase there, tweak the plot over there. Something that you couldn't stand to look at and read over can be remade into something wonderful(: Despite detesting my story on patience, I'm still optimistic about its potential. :3 Which leads me to my ~*~sagely~*~ advice for today.

Write. Even if you think it's bad, jot it down. Just because it starts out bad doesn't mean it has to end up bad.

I've gotten into that habit after NaNo. If an idea has any potential, best believe that I've written it down. :D In general, I'll post 'em up on dA for feedback, and then eventually I'll put them through the editing process. :) That's how you grow and learn as a writer.

Do this for me, if you haven't done so recently. Flip through old notebooks or peruse your computer and look through some old writings from a few years back, or if you're daring, ten years ago, or twenty.

I have memories of third grade poems that I thought were so clever and pieces of stories that I thought were pure literary art at the time. Now I look at them and just laugh. It's so funny how far I've come. It all started in second grade when I started getting creative with some colorful similes and realized that I could smith words together to make something worthwhile. Now I can actually write something a tad more coherent and mature that people can enjoy. Practice makes perfect, no? :]

I commend you for your efforts, writer. They have not gone in vain.

A weary traveler, ready to take a break. He gathers the strength to lift his head, only to see the path in front of him stretching way past the horizon. His chest heaves heavily, breathing with much effort. "Can't I just stop for a little while?"

You've got a far way to go, I know. We're all human; we'll need to stop and take a breather every once and a while.

But just look behind you, and you'll see how far you've come.

Friday, February 5, 2010

C'est la vie

Not a star could be seen in the pitch black night sky. I purse my lips broodingly and stare absently at the blinking cursor on the screen before me.

Just try to think of another word to type, it leers. I dare you.

My expression sours, cursing that small flashing line of mere pixels. How does something as simple as a line dictate and take complete hold of my mind?

I tap my pencil against my notebook listlessly, not in the mood to listen to my teacher lecture today. I could feel myself falling into a haze, soon getting caught up in the world of one of my characters. Like the artist in front of a block of marble, I chipped away at the unnecessary bits, coming closer and closer to my target.

If I want to get good grades, it would be best for me to stop dreaming, I realize shortly. I fall back down to Earth with a disappointed smile. Time to start studying again.

(This lovely little stamp can be found here, created by vamptasticA.)

Ah, the life of a young writer. School is really nothing but a hindrance to one's art.

Somehow, in between the chaos of starting a new semester and shifting around the knives I've been juggling, I've actually made some headway on my story. I've gotten over 2000 words on it now.

When I first started sketching out this story, I had a faint outline of what was to come. I essentially had the characters vividly drawn out and a barely there skeleton of a plotline. I thought that it was going to be an easy oneshot that I could crank out in one sitting, in a couple hours, tops.

I never anticipated it to take so much time. But even beyond that, I never expected to be so in love with this story. I would close my eyes and suddenly I was seeing through the eyes of "Jonathan" (the protagonist's temporary name) - I cringed at the pain he experienced, I began to map out my suddenly unfamiliar surroundings in a daze. A self-satisfied smirk settled itself on my face, uninvited. These feelings weren't mine. Suddenly I was that rebellious teenage boy who did as he pleased, dumped in a new environment.

I really love this story. Once the next plot bunny to progress it hits me, I feel really happy to start spinning this yarn. This may turn out that it necessitates being split into two chapters. Maybe even three.

NaNoWriMo (International Novel Writing Month) was a daring and crazy thing for me to take on; I still can't really believe I conquered it. That was most definitely what solidified my love for the written word. Now, thanks to Miss cinnamon-quill and many other fantastic deviants, I've become a stronger and more prolific writer than ever before.


For one moment, Jonathan's curled simper is my own as I sneer at the blinking cursor. Just try and stop me.

This is it.

This is how it should be.

This is the life.

Monday, February 1, 2010

The Beginnings of a New Journey

After much poking and prodding from comrades of the writing community on deviantART, here I am, putting my blogspot account to use. \o/

I cannot promise that I will write with the eloquence that you will see on Cinnamon Quill or other writing blogs, but I can assure you, I will open my mind to you on the workings of my mind on the writing process.

My person. I think it is made up of notes. Musical and scribbled. When I am not preoccupied with one, it is the other that dictates my actions. Always listening, always writing. There is Rose the musician, and there is Rose the writer. Each will express herself in what she does best.

How do both live so equally in one person?

I may never know.

Shall I discuss my latest project? It has consumed me for the past few days. It is... *drumroll* a fanfiction.

I know that fanfiction gets a really bad rap, but sometimes I write fic too, albeit quite rarely. If you judge me for writing fic on real people, I suppose I understand. :| I would probably judge me too. However, I for one personally believe that fanfiction can be a wonderful springboard for a struggling writer who is in a fandom.

And to tell you the truth, I am horrid at fanfiction. Case in point being my Epik High fanfic, "Free Music". This is a feeble attempt to make a teenage Tablo who is even mildly in character. But if you look at it as just an angsting Daniel Lee who hates playing the violin, I suppose it is an all right piece.

To be quite frank, I prefer crafting my own original characters because I have more free rein over them. But sometimes, there's ideas I really can't resist to turn into fic. And this would be one of them. The title in progress is "And 'Ring Ding Dong' Went The Bells", but you know how much that rolls off the tongue. :p I am planning on posting the story on dA with westernized names to make it more relatable to a western audience. When that happens, please do tell me what you think.

At this moment in time, it is a whopping 1,057 words long. Woo hoo. Have the opening line for a taste of what's to come:

"His first and last memories are of darkness, the clear toll of church bells in the distance."

By the way, how do you like the layout? It took me eons to format x-x;; And it may only be temporary, if I find something better. :|

The blank notebook beckons. It is time for a new story to begin.