“Perfect Story”

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seven steps to the perfect story

They make this seem way too easy.

 

I understand the need for guidelines and general rules in writing, but some of this just seems so…cliche. I can make up whatever characters I want, gosh darn it. I don’t want titles to fit my characters into. They’re people that are alive in my head, and they all have cool back-stories that are way too long and involved to put into the book. No one can limit them or make them fit into a stereotype unless I do first. They’re like, my imaginary children. But not.

I definitely want a mix of a few of those plot lines too. Who says you can’t go on a quest and escape a monster and get rich at the very end? XD

Also why is hobbit misspelled? 😛

Yeah it’s late, or rather, early. End rant, bed time for me. 😛

Although, if you find this helpful, then that’s awesome. I wish you luck in your writing endeavors. I’m just a little overprotective of my characters. :3

 

 

 

 

That awkward moment

If people ask what projects I’m working on, or what my long-term goals are, I can always say, “I’m writing a novel!” But deep down I know that I’m really just procrastinating as the first draft ferments and stagnates in My Documents.

I’m at an awkward point in my novel where I’ve just passed the last scene that I actually had a plan for. That is, I had several main ones in mind that were in a nice, connected, chronological order. With those successfully written, I have a few other random ones that may or may not happen since I never really decided how to link them to the overall plot. I only planned up to a certain point when I first started writing it. At the time I assumed that I’d figure the rest out as I went along. Well of course that didn’t happen. 

I’m lucky to have an engineer and serious sci-fi fan as a boyfriend, because when I need some crazy scientific reasons for something, I can ask him for ideas. [I’m honestly not sure why I started writing sci-fi when I really think it’d be easier for me to write children’s fairy tales or YA fantasy.] Anyways, I got a few things from him, but that doesn’t cover everything. In fact, talking to him only brings to my attention the multiple problems and plot holes. I’m starting to realize that I need better motives for some of the characters. I need more diversity. And I should probably do more research on green technologies and energy crises, since that’s kind of the setting of this whole thing. 

Part of the time I feel like starting over and fixing every problem I can find, even though I’m only about halfway finished with the first draft. It’s difficult to continue when I see so many errors. And I can only lament the lack of plot-relevant ideas within my brain.

I opened my story doc last night for the first time in a few months, and wrote a whopping 346 word conversation before getting distracted by tumblr and YouTube. [Curse you, internet!] I know, it’s no one’s fault but my own. I also know that the only way to get this done is by sloughing through it.

Those how-to-write-a-good-book authors always say “Just write!” And that works fine, if I’m writing for NaNoWriMo and I don’t even have a perfectly coherent plot. [Some people have wonderful plots in their NaNoWriMo projects, I’m sure, but I generally don’t think everything out. It’s kind of a reoccurring theme in my life.] It’s so much harder to word-vomit when I want things to be nice and consistent and make sense.

Maybe I just need to let go of my inner control freak editor. I mean, that’s always a good thing to do for a first draft, right?

Save Our Souls

It must be strange, to take confessions.

How do you manage? As the masses come before you, spewing their dirtiest wrongs before your feet, what things go through your head? Do you pity them as you watch them fidgeting, with shifty eyes outside the window? Or some instead calm and silent, waiting to be absolved from the guilty burden on their shoulders. Do you wish them well as they  depart, hoping that God will bless their endeavors to repent, to improve, to live a good life? Do you pray that grace and forgiveness would fall upon their souls?

Or perhaps your thoughts run on a different track. Mayhap you see them for the umpteenth time, saying the same exact thing, for the same exact sin, as the very first time they came to confess. And then you think that they might as well not come, because they haven’t really tried. You think that in their hearts they have no real desire to repent, and that they only come out of obligation. And if people do this out of duty and not in truth, well, every word they say to you could be a lie. Perhaps this goes through your mind and you begin to despise and mistrust them, silencing a weary sigh and forcing yourself to sound inviting when you see them outside the window yet again.

I don’t know what it’s like, to take confessions.

But one last thing I wonder, and I wonder it the most of all, is how you can stand holding the foulest secrets of the world in your heart. Maybe you don’t hold them all, whispering them to a fellow brother or sister when you finish your tasks.  But if you do manage to keep them and not break I admire your strength.

I have had those dearest to me lay their souls open, and I’ve seen a mere glimpse of their inner monstrosities.  The disgusting, enthralling depths of their hearts put in me a strange weight. I feel in myself an oddness…not quite pity, not quite fear, and not quite sadness…or perhaps it is all of them at once, plus a little more. Like a mother trying to comfort her child and chase the shadows away, I want to help, to fight for them, to fix their wrongs with what I think is right; because surely that would be better than what they’ve had all along. And then I realize, when I bare my soul to them, to myself, and to my God, that I am no better. That in my head lies nothing but an altered version of their helpless fantasies and sickening wrongs.  That I, who would erase their sins and replace them with good, would only warp and twist and ruin if I tried.

Do you ever have these thoughts, when you take a confession? Does the weight of knowing a thousand sins become unbearable when you realize that you are powerless to fix them? That you, too, are a mere human, who alone can do nothing but try and fail again and again and again? Or do you push the confessions from your mind, ignoring them in full until you forget?

I am not an official in the church. I have no power of my own, and the masses would not come to me if I asked.

I will never have to take confessions.

Of that I am glad. Because seeing the wrongs of those closest to my heart will only ever bring before me the utter darkest depths of my soul. And when I see all these I can only cry, Oh God, Save Us.

I’ve had the ideas for this swirling around in my head for about a month and I finally sat down and wrote it.  It’s rough and rather incorrect, I’m assuming, since I’m not Catholic and therefore am unfamiliar with how confessions work and all that…anyhoo, please feel free to comment, give critique, and suggest changes. I like how the concept came out but I’m not entirely set on all the wording yet. 🙂