Live stream ended but available EVERY Sunday. So in the meantime..for your listening pleasure and writing inspiration.
Live stream ended but available EVERY Sunday. So in the meantime..for your listening pleasure and writing inspiration.
So I was very sad when one of my RP’s on the side from wifey (she calls them side bitches) faded. It was going really well. A bit lewd and colorful but very descriptive and the story had potential. Oh well. However I will post a piece of what I wrote for it just because I like it. Enjoy!
The rule was simple: No direct contact with anything outside of the Keijukainen realm. One could observe and that was all. Lithia Inestra, a primitive Keiju, followed that rule without question for over a century. She spent most of her time occupied with the transgressions of man against the wildlife within the dense forests of her domain. A protector, as many saw it fitting, neither ‘good or evil’; those titles quite subjective. Lithia was a mischievous sprite, finding pleasure and beauty in all things broken, occasionally twisting the fate of those that crossed her path. It wasn’t exactly frowned upon, as long as she followed the cardinal rule and stayed out of sight. There were severe consequences for any that breached that verbal contract, but it had been thousands of years since anyone of her species dared broach the subject, thus it had been all but been forgotten.
Lithia had two forms.
Her most common was that of a seven inch porcelain figure, resembling much of a lesser scale to the impressive statues that scattered Imperio. Silver, transparent wings endowed the full length of her tiny form, changing colors with her mood emitting a curious glow that could only be seen by those who lingered between the planes of existence. Life and death was also subjective, and humans tended to only believe in what was right in front of them, never seeing past that thin veil that lingered like a shadowy fog in which she thrived within. Thus, she was invisible to most. If one were lucky enough to bestow upon her beauty in said form, violet eyes shimmered like a threatening storm, thick raven locks cascading down between her delicate wings, clothing her naked hourglass form. Wisps of hair would cling beneath her voluptuous breasts as if to cup and support the supple flesh, defining her hairless peach that blushed like a rose between her thighs.
Lithia’s less frequent form wasn’t too much different than the normal except she could manipulate herself to blend in with her surroundings, giving the facade she were human. Her wings would be concealed beneath the ‘veil’, her curves lucid, embellishing a hunter green, tight knit corset that barely covered past her nipples. Her belly would be bare, a disheveled skirt ruffled and seemingly torn at all angles like crumbling leaves brittle to the touch. Most times her feet were unclad, her skin impermeable to the harsh climates and rocky terrain.
Lithia was growing tiresome of the redundant repose of her mere existence, so more and more she would travel into the cities in her minuscule form, perching along the shoulders of those marble sculptures, seeking out to learn and understand the mundane existence of man. On occasion she would whisper into their ears inspiration or corruptive impressions, finding amusement in how things played out in turn. Lithia had only felt remorse for her fellow creatures she watched over beneath the pale moonlight and never had she regretted her playful objectives; that is until one night.
For reasons obscured from reality, eyes befell upon an impeccable subject of a man, his scent being what caught her attention in the first place. There was something animalistic about his essence that lured her interest beneath his ethnological anatomy, only heightened through his perspiration, overwhelming her carnal senses. Lithia found herself stalking him for days, watching from the shadows, whether it be in dark corners or nestled within his long blond hair as he slept. She became obsessive, forgetting all else as she yearned to understand what compelled him to follow his brethren and then suddenly stray. His muffled curses and starset eyes tugged on her heart strings, finding his reason for questioning all that he knew, harrowing her own reflective purpose. And so, she found herself whispering into his dreams, her voice harboring an angelic sting as she sang to him with a siren’s call….Until he was excommunicated from his home.
Lithia pursued him through the forests, a place she could meander in her sleep by smell and sound alone. His cologne magnified and now changed somehow, sending her focus into a daze, the pixie under some perception of hypnosis. She wondered now if his soul had awakened, the strength he displayed clearly beyond any mortal she had ever seen as not many had dared to trespass the boundaries as he had. As she roosted along a small stone by the side of the cave’s entrance, she barely noticed the raven until it was already flying off into the midnight fog. Lithia worried if he had noticed, thus subconsciously breaking the cardinal rule when she called out to him, her voice carried in on the back of the winds of her beating wings with a haunting peculiarity, remaining in the open to be seen in her tiny form by any who knew where to look.
Anyone looking for a publisher? I came across this site with a list that I found helpful, so I am sharing the love. Best wishes! Click below.
Okay, Wifey knows I can not resist.. So I’ll post what lead up to her above scene. Enjoy!
“What are you doing?” Ess chuckled, kneeling down beside Lily who was staring very intently at Puppy in a cold stone expression. She looked so serious and was silent as the grave as the large dog stared right back at her, his expression much more curious and adorable as his ears perked up at Ess’ approach. When Lily didn’t answer, Ess folded her hands in her lap and watched the two for quite some time. Ess felt like it had been forever and went to ask Lily again what she was up to, when the girl tilted her head back, her face stretching in a wide and noisy yawn. Essence quirked a brow, thinking that maybe the child had grown tired of this staring contest, absently stifling a yawn of her own. Puppy’s tail thumped happily over at Lily as he reflected her gesture and let out a soft whine, his jaws parting in a yawn of his own, tongue lolling out of his mouth. Lily broke her statue like pose and began giggling and tackled her fury protector in a massive hug, the dog covering the girl in kisses.
Ess snorted shaking her head. “Lily…what are you doing?” She smiled in amusement.
“Hi Miss Ess! I was trying an spearmint..” Lily giggled, when Ess’ expression when dumbfounded.
“ A what?”
“A spearmint! Jason said that he read that animals and people…who are good…sense someone is good and you can tell this by if yawning and seeing if that animal or person does it too.” Lily lifted her head proudly as if she were giving a lesson on morality.
“OOooh…an experiment.” Ess laughed and nodded, tapping her chin thoughtfully as she listened to Lily’s explanation.
“Dat’s what I said, Miss Ess. An exspearmint. And it worked. Puppy yawned when I did.”
Ess fell silent for a few moments, watching the girl lovingly play with the Wolfhound. Thinking over the girl’s words, she began to understand what she was doing, a warm smile touching her eyes as she quietly appreciated the girl’s intelligence. Lily had a pretty good understanding of what Jason had explained to her, but Ess was familiar with what the boy had read and knew it was still quite a bit over the young girl’s head.
“It’s to tell..if someone has Empathy, Miss Lily. Do you know what Empathy is?” Ess sang softly, reaching over to ruffle up Puppy’s fur. Lily looked up at Essence and tilted her head in curiosity, staying silent to politely wait for the woman to finish.
“Um..well basically it’s..for example…Let’s pretend you fell and hurt your leg and I found you. I would feel bad and sad that you hurt yourself and want to help you. Your pain I don’t really feel, because I’m not hurt, but I see you’re in pain and I want to help it go away.I would want to take care of you.” Ess reached over and lifted the girl onto her lap as she spoke, running her fingers through her hair to separate and braid the loose strands.
“So…it’s wanting to help people?” Lily asked, quietly settling into Ess’ lap.
“Sometimes. It’s understanding what someone else feels, even if you don’t feel it. Sometimes you do feel it too.” Ess snorted, shaking her head when Lily looked back at her a bit confused. “Ok..what if Puppy didn’t yawn back, what did Jason say that would have meant?”
Lily was thoughtfully quiet as Ess twisted six small braids; three on each side of Lily’s head, uniting them at the base of her neck where she began braiding those together into a much larger design. When Ess was finished, that was when Lily seemed to come to an answer.
“I think…it would mean that Puppy was bad. I think if someone didn’t care about me then they’d be mean. I’m a good girl and I like making people stuff and helping Jason and the other kids and Maga. I was sad that day your hands hurt Miss Ess and you couldn’t eat..so I helped. So..I have mapthy..”
“Empathy..” Ess corrected, brushing a few hairs from her eyes. “..Yes…you do. and you’re right…those who don’t..can be very mean..”
“You have empathy too then.” Lily smiled.
Essence giggled. “Why don’t you go find out if Mr Luckas does too? Go play your game with him…but don’t tell him why until after, ok?”
“Ok!” Lily jumped up with a small burst of energy and went to run off to find Luckas. “Miss Ess?” Lily paused in step and looked over at Essence with what could only be recognized as confidence. “…You know what?”
“What is it, Lily?”
“Mr. Luckas has to have empathy because he’s never mean to me.”
“Is that so? Well, you sure it’s not because he knows he’d get his butt whooped by a camp full of guardsmen and women if he were to be mean to you?”
Lily laughed, clapping a bit in amusement. “Maybe..but I don’t think so..”
There is a bit of a history to the scene I’m going to post below and to those of you who are reading, or participating in, SOF it may actually be posted there in the future although. Read at your own risk, although it contains no plot relevant anythings and it’s just something I wrote for cuteness sake. The history I spoke of, well… I’ll tell you guys about it in the end. 😉
Luckas sighed, holding back a laugh. They had been doing this for a while now; Lily followed him around for a bit then stood in front of him, stared for a few seconds, and then yawned vigorously. After some time of making the girl chase him down for this; with no explanation as to why whatsoever, Luckas finally stopped trying to get away and just sat down by the oak, compliant, watching as she stared…
View original post 1,281 more words
I’m pretty sure I read something similar to this list before on Camila’s blog, but I can’t recall where. She’ll find it if it bugs her enough. Details are her weakness. She MUST know!
1) So you’re still writing your little book/poem/etc?
Yes. It’s a HELL of a lot more interesting than looking at your face! Ehem, I mean… >.> Writing is stressful but also stress relieving. It helps channel our minds into a more productive and beneficial way so we don’t go homicidal. Or the fact that fantasy is just more interesting some days than reality. Seriously. O.k, only sometimes. Truth is if we are still working on something for more than a week, chances are it has blossomed and become our baby, therefore we will work tediously night and day (mostly at night when it’s quiet) to help it grow. Not to mention we become perfectionists. So two years later if I’m STILL working on a rewrite, buzz off.
2) Must be nice not having a real job.
Speaking for myself, I have a ‘day job.’ For those of you who have extra time (if they like it or not) to work on their book, kudos! Guess what, people who say the above are just jealous. I am not saying that as a comeback to make you feel better because it is the God’s honest truth. People who say the above are working miserable day jobs that they refer to as ‘real jobs’ to pay the rent but they get nothing out of it besides that. Writing is something we enjoy as creative people and if we actually can bank a paycheck from it, you think we are ever going to go back to the customer service position of getting screamed at? The moment I get there, I will flip out on the next person who calls me names and quit triumphantly.
Even if not as successful as one would like, working at something you love is far better than living in eternal misery.
3) Writing doesn’t sound too difficult.
Oh no? Did you just pass kindergarten finger painting and come up with that conclusion all on your own? Bravo! English language in general is a nightmare. Maybe coming up with a story is easy for some but there’s consistencies you have to keep an eye on. I’d like to think those who are serious about the profession want things to make sense in whatever reality their story takes place in. Also, I know no one is perfect and typos happen but I would like to read a story that isn’t completely in emoticons, Ebonics, or some other ‘hip’ slang used by young adults and poorly educated individuals. One should not write as one speaks. These are instances where that is acceptable for text or chatting online only. ENGLISH PLEASE. (Or whatever language you speak, in it’s proper form)
4) I always thought I’d write a book after I retire, once I have some time to kill.
…And then one day you are hit by a bus and become a vegetable. It’s horrible, but the point is there. You may not live to retirement. Also, if you look at writing as ‘only’ a hobby, that’s fine but then you could start here and there, now. Why put off what you can do today for tomorrow if it really interests you?
5) Wait a second, creative writing degrees are a real thing?
If that is abnormal to you, then are these normal? There’s actually a school of wizardry. Hogwarts? Where do I sign up!? Apparently anything can become a scam-I mean college course to major or minor in. Honestly I didn’t realize there was a sex school. Mkaaay.
6) Have you been published yet?
As nice as that would be, that isn’t always our goal. However, if our goal is to make sure we get to share our story with people, there are other ways such as self publishing or pitching it as a screenplay. Personally I still want to do that when our RP is over, but there probably will be too many legal hoops to jump through, even though I got the other author’s o.k. in writing.
7) Can I be a character in one of your stories?
Famous last words. That isn’t something you really should ask because you most likely won’t like it. Especially if we don’t like you, we may just express it as a brutal and agonizing, in-scene death. Or as one fellow writer wrote in the RP, “she might just stab you. Or light you on fire. Or poison you. Or tie you up in a tree upside down covered in honey for the bears.” -Mageria, taken from Shadows of the Forgotten
8) So I have this great idea I think you should be using in your book.
Bitch, please. Go write your own damn story. That is how I feel towards some, but then there are people who you talk with in regards to your story and may help you brainstorm, especially if you are feeling stuck. That’s not such a bad thing, but unless you are writing it with the person, it’s best not to start a conversation that way. We get defensive of our ‘babies.’
9) Aren’t writers just professional liars? They tell stories for a living after all/
I have not actually come across this before and I find it odd to be on this list. However I was a good liar as a child and became an expert at getting away with just about anything. But, hey, that is only because people were convinced I was lying all the time when I wasn’t so when I was actually, they believed I was telling the truth. Oh the drama of middle school/high school. Boo, hiss.
10) You’re writing a book? Tell me everything!
Two hours later you either have a doe-eyed fan demanding pages (like my friend Dori who asks me every time I see her, “Where are my pages!”) or they are praying for you to stop going on about your main character like it is your best friend. Isn’t that how we talk about our babies though; as if they are real life entities? Do we not get excited when they live or succeed and cry when they are hurt? Do we not hear them talking in our minds, their voices becoming to loud that we have to drop everything and get it down on paper before we forget? They have little personalities all their own that once they come into existence, all bets are off. They are not in our control per se, as many would like to believe. We can’t just NOT kill a character because it would depress us, unless it fits the story. If someone gets cut in half, there’s no coming back from that. (well I guess depends on the setting and rules. but most of the time there’s no coming back damn it) Just make sure there’s a body, right?
This has been viral around the net for some time now, but each time someone posts it on Facebook or it pops up somewhere random, I ALWAYS listen. We need more moments like these in this world. Through writing, music, or even silence, more people need to focus on the beauty of life and not drown in the negativity.
There’s this brick wall that exists inside my head from time to time. Usually it appears when anything more complicated than simple math is involved. I hate math and i don’t understand how I ever got through it. I’ve always been an English/Literature or History gal. That brick wall is the best way to describe the way my mind goes blank and I feel stuck as if I literally am sinking and can not move forward. I will stare into nothingness, beyond the inanimate object before me for hours getting nowhere just trying to get that one spark that will set the rest into motion.
Lately I suffer this writers block and have taken the time to distract myself from it with life, books, movies/television, family, hobbies, but still I can’t knock down this wall. Usually for me the bits of inspiration arrives in spurts or flashes, such as that place between dreaming and awake. That is always the worse because you can never write it down. Driving usually it comes to me and then I have to try to record the idea onto my phone. Music is a large motivator in my writing, but what can I do when I temporarily stop caring about it?
So, therein lies my dilemma. I have this idea, which I’ve had for some years, for a series. I finally started to sit down and list off what I could for plot points, characters I have thought of so far, and of course the exciting world building. I started with generators for a map and that helped to give me some ideas, but that wall is still there, just with a few bricks missing so some light shines through.
I still am missing some key plot points, which I am told will come to me, but I feel lost and a bit discouraged. I know I shouldn’t doubt myself, because this is all apart of the process, but I still do. I’d like to believe writing is something I’m pretty good at when I get going; that and wood burning, but my talents are few. Some of My favorite pieces so far are the Dragon for my sister in law and the Wolf I sent to Camila.
Still, I will keep my eyes open and try to pay attention to the world so not to miss my key moments of inspiration.
So, some time ago I wrote a scene for the RP Shadows Of The Forgotten, called Spring Storm. My good friend, Camila, re-blogged it a little while back and it reminded me of how I tried to put together sound effects and music to myself reading this aloud. Sadly, the cheap program I have made the sound…well less than perfect. It certainly has tons of room for improvement, but you get the point. I didn’t include the reading in this version because I couldn’t get the audios to not clash enough to my liking, so here is the music and sound effects. Camila was kind enough to take my writing and audio clip and put it into a visual youtube video for me. Thanks again wifey! ^.^
In regards to the scene, it is personally a favorite of mine for a couple reasons. One, I actually managed to get what I was daydreaming about in my head, out into paper. I am pretty proud of this scene because of that reason but also it shows some metaphorical beauty that one may get the basics from reading out of context, but not all of it. For those of you who are not familiar, Ess had found an unlikely friendship in a stalker; a stranger, that which is Luckas. The scenes giving some nice beginnings and background to their unexpected bond, can be found on this blog, referenced as ‘Ess and Luckas Meet Again: parts 1-5’. Anyways, I would like to think here, as Ess, she was experiencing a moment of peace that she wanted to share with Luckas. At this point in the story, it is fairly new, the realization and discovery that they share a psychic bond brought on when Luckas tried to erase her memories. This ‘bond’ lets them communicate in a way, unintentionally at times, so that in the past, Luckas had briefly experienced some troubling things Ess was living in a present moment. This scene is to share with him, those peaceful moments that are rare and far in between and I’d like to think also, to share a little piece of herself. It’s the only time I can remember, showing as her ‘adult self’, an innocence which she believes she has fully lost.
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