Chromatic Compositions

...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
_~"Hands"

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. ♥

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.

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.

<3

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.

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.}