Well I am finding all sorts of things out about myself already. My writers block seems to be going away. I guess the old adage of when you are happy you have nothing to say comes to my mind. I had to go in to work for a few minutes today (45 minutes to get there... do 5 min of work... 45minutes to get back) and was shocked. As I was walking I wrote a good opening paragraph to what could be a very interesting story.
Here it goes:
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Dec 12th
The city is cold. To be expected this time of year. Few trees to hold in the heat, the cold cement beneath your feet and every where you turn a windtunnel is created by the cold stone buildings. This is winter in New York City, but this time it is different. The city was an almost perfect snow globe. The snow fell in large flakes but gently made their way to their final destination. But there is something else here with me. Making me colder, making me walk harder. Indeed something is different about this cold.
The wind whips about my uncovered face, forcing the snow to burn as it whips across the skin. I should have at least worn a hat, maybe even a scarf.
I take a long, deep breath to puff up my chest and warm myself with the air in my lungs. It's a useful trick, keeping air in the bottom of the lungs for heat and using the top of your lungs to breathe. I am sure you will find I have a lot of useful tricks. If only one of those tricks involved mending my mourning. Perhaps that is what it is. This cold is a different cold, because something in it is colder. Something that is stalking me. I am sure that in due time the thing stalking me will make it's move. Is it friendly? I don't know, but any hardened criminal knows to expect everything. My time in upstate taught me to be on my toes. Fresh out of jail on a cold December day. The world around me is an almost perfect snow globe. The only flaw in this sea of fluffy white fantasy... is me.
I thought I would never get to see the snow again. But it's cold... I need to find a place to stay.
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So... what do you guys think? I think it has the makings for a good story of revenge and redemption with a tragic hero. I am thinking of doing it in interior monologue and telling the action from the Tragic Hero's point of view. Sorta film noir but in a book.
I think I like it.
-Daemian
2 comments:
Has a sort of Dashiell Hammet feel. I like it. It is evocative of the noir mood.
Well it would seem that in my sorrow I have let open the floodgates of my creativity. I have been banging my head against a brick wall trying to come up with something... anything. I would try to draw, another passion of mine, but my imagination had left me. I tried to write but my gift for words had left me as well.
I guess I was so wrapped up in making my relationship work. Was always told relationships take work... and work I did; we did. I ignored about everything I had as a hobbie or general interest. I stopped acting. I stopped drawing. I stopped writing. I stopped singing. I stopped doing anything that took time away from US.
Now that US is no longer, as of the end of this month, all of that stiffled creativity is coming out. I have never been so inspired. I think my naive nature as a young person kept me from truly understanding. Having loved and lost, watching it slip away... I understand now. That experience has given me a wealth of things to write about.
I think I will be ok mi hermano. The advice I was given was 1 -2 months of no contact with him to rest, relax, heal... then start dating or at least talking to people.
But do know Jae... I am gonna be calling you over to the apartment just so I am not alone. :P
-D
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