The process of writing my four novels was different each time, but they all followed a similar emotional pattern. I've discovered that this emotional path is essential for writing success.
The Emotional Path Your Most Successful Writing Follows
In the beginning, an idea struck me. And I don’t mean a ho-hum, random thought. A plot or character zapped my brain like a lightning bolt of awesomeness. Excitement coursed through my veins.
I thought, Yes, I must write this.
Soon after, that same idea made me feel seasick. My entire body became awash in nausea. I felt incapable of writing that book, or talented enough to plot the next chapter, and was unsure if I should bother to send my final manuscript to a literary agent at all. Queasiness coursed through my veins.
I thought, No, I cannot do this.
For a full four-hundred pages, I flip-flopped back and forth between the two extremes. It’s not just with my novels, either. It can be blog posts, or setting up my Facebook fan page – anything that takes me one step closer to my dream.
I’ve since termed this phenomenon as T2.
It’s a must for writing success. What I’m talking about is feeling both…
THRILLED and TERRIFIED about your writing.
Staring at a fresh, blank page, a continual tug-of-war wages inside me, with super highs and horrifying lows.
Do you experience this?
If not, you should.
Why T2 Matters
Your craft craves both elements of feeling thrilled and terrified. You need it to write, launch your author website, or create business cards for an upcoming conference.
Otherwise, you’re just playing it safe.
Selling yourself short will show on the page, too. Your words will ring hollow, and won’t excite your readers. It will be a waste of your time to write, and a waste of their time to read (which is much worse, by the way).
Complacency and mediocrity do more harm than good.
If you’re writing for fame or fortune alone, hang up your pen now. There are so many other ways to fatten your wallet and ego faster than spending countless hours alone banging away on the keyboard about imaginary characters in faraway places.
Some call that schizophrenia.
Writers call it another day at the office.
#1 Reason for Writing
You can’t not write. Sorry for the bad grammar.
Words feed your soul and give you life, just like the oxygen you breathe. It’s the only reason to take the time, effort and energy needed to excel at this craft.
You should feel both thrilled you’re on a literary adventure, but also terrified you’re not good enough to pull it off.
That’s T2.
It’s how you know you’re onto something special, and that you must absolutely, positively write fill-in-the-blank. The words will crackle with electricity, and you’ll feel energy in your prose.
Reach for the stars. Write what you’re not sure you’re talented enough to accomplish. Go for T2, even though it’s scary as hell.
You and your audience will appreciate it; both deserve the very best.
What thrills and terrifies you about your current writing project (or one you’d like to write)? Share your list in the comments section!
PRACTICE
Spend fifteen minutes free writing, trying to write something that both thrills and terrifies you. When you're finished, post your practice in the comments section. And if you share, please be sure to give feedback to your fellow writers about their thrilling, terrifying writing.
As always, when you write, I drop everything to comment, my dearest Marcy! #HUGSSSS
Gosh – I missed you. And I am so glad you posted this today. You always know what I need to read.
I have some nice ideas for a few articles, but every time I open my Word document – a strange depression washes over me. I am just not able to probe the depths of my soul. My writing feels hollow and I feel discontented, so I resign myself to caressing my superficial emotions.
I hate that though.
GUess I just don’t KNOW how to describe my most heartfelt emotions. And my fear of failure goads me to close my document and browse the Net instead 😛
I am terrified and thrilled, but this combination is quite deadly and makes me procrastinate. LOL
But I keep reopening the document anyway. I am not quitting #HUGSSS
I apologize for rambling, but you always make me feel grateful for wanting to write, dear Marcy <3
OODLESSS of love
Kitto
OMG, Kitto,
I WISH I could bottle you up and use whenever I’m suffering from dreaded LSD (Loser Writer Syndrome!). Thanks for the generosity you always heap on me.
You bring up an excellent point. Our writing desperately needs T2, but that can expose ourselves so much to others. It’s FRIGHTENING.
However, as you’ve seen. We don’t really have a choice. When we don’t give our writing our all, our words ring hollow and we feel disconnected, as you so aptly put it.
My suggestion is: baby steps. Share your work with someone who loves you deeply. As you feel braver, move out to others from there.
I love that suggestion – thank you! #HUGSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS
And I cannot believe that YOU ever suffer from LSD – you ROCKKKK!
Honey, EVERY writer on the planet suffers from Loser Writer Syndrome at some point. Don’t sweat it!
Hi there ! Good to hear from you again, and good to see you around The Write Practice. I’ve lost the last gazillion practices, but here’s to you. Cheers !
———————————————————
From Tales of the Fall
It was 26 A.F. (After the Fall), and I felt numb. Not numb as one could be when in a cold, but heart and mind numb. Like being home alone just after the holydays. Can’t say my life is neither good nor bad, but definitely a third possibility had drilled its way to my conscious mind. This possibility were the state of questioning.
Silently going through the pathway that leads to Finisterra’s home, in a cloud day – I love this weather – suddenly slowing my pace I began to stare the valley below. “How beautiful” – crossed my mind – “why didn’t I ever stopped midway the big house to look around?”. Quickly, the all tidy-up mister obvious that lives in my skull comes in “of course you have no time for doodling around, you’re the Quartermaster Assistant, the second busiest man in the whole province; flocks of mouths and bodies several miles around depends on you to be fed and dressed.”
Then I got startled. Good Logoi, am I becoming schizophrenic ? I’d loose my position in a glimpse ! Crap, I can’t let it happen ! All of a sudden I’ve straightened my back less than an inch before my forehead bang the outer fence of the big house. I took a deep breath and gathered my wits together trying to wonder how could be this transition between awareness enough to observe my own thoughts to a state where I didn’t eve noticed I have walked the pathway all the way up. “Stupid”, I muttered, “put yourself together at once or the old man will bully you for a month”, and darted with another deep sigh towards the big wooden front door.
Thanks for the warm welcome, Joao. I’m looking forward to hanging with you more around here.
I REALLY appreciate you sharing your work. That’s very brave. I could really sense the numbness of your hear and mind, and enjoyed how the story progressed. Good job and keep writing!
Intriguing start, Joao! More, please 🙂
Thrilled AND terrified–you nailed it. And it’s amazing how a human head and heart can experience such extremes at the SAME time. But it’s also amazing how the two, combined together, create the idea formula for creation, isn’t it? So, what thrills and terrifies me about my current WIP?
Thrilling: the potential I see with this story.
Terrified: that I’ll never, ever figure out a workable structure that does it justice.
Great post, Marcy! 🙂
Hi there, Robyn!
I love that: the idea formula for creation:
Thrilled + Terrified = Writing Success!
T2. Aiaiai. Family history hidden from offspring of my siblings, like a ticking time bomb when truth will be discovered — that leads me to writing memoir, and I now facilitate “What’s Your Story?” workshops in communities relatively nearby. You pull one thread, and follow where it leads, whether in fiction or n/f. Truth requires bravery.
Wow, you are so right. Truth require bravery. Bravery demands truth. I think that’s a writer’s #1 responsibility (whether if fiction or NF) — to tell the truth. Sometimes, that’s easier said than done.
This exactly describes writing for me. I feel the thrill of the words on the page. The excitement of creation, the terror of refection. I can’t wait to read your posts as a regular contributor Marcy. you always seem to have the right thing to say to me to get me to keep going.
Trilled about creating.
Terrified about rejection, not being good enough, not being a ‘real’ writer.
Thanks for this post Marcy. 🙂
Hi there, Miriam,
You just described what 99.9% of what all writers feel with their T2. You’re perceptive, girl. I’m glad you enjoy my posts because I really enjoying connect you and everyone else here @ the TWP!
That makes two of us Marcy 😛 happy writing! do you mean “I really enjoy connecting with you and everyone else here @ the write practice?
Yes, yes, yes! Thank you sometimes I think faster than my fingers can keep up. I write like I’m ON FIRE! 🙂
I’ve been trying to find the time and energy to start a second novel. I have had the idea for months, and in my head, it is perfect. However when I close Facebook to start writing, the words do not match the images I have in my head. My characters don’t speak on paper the same way they speak to me.
Thrill: Once the story is written, I have a sure feeling that it will be well received.
Terror: Actually writing it
I suppose sometimes we just have to jump in the water and have faith that we won’t drown.
Oooooh, Lauren, I love, love, love your writing metaphor, “I suppose sometimes we just have to jump in the water and have faith that we won’t drown.”
Yes! Dive in, baby!
I hope you’ll go ahead and start that second novel. You’ve already written one, so you know how hard it is. You also know that the first draft is about getting the BONES OF THE STORY down on paper. Much later is when you polish to start to match the images from inside your head.
If you stick with it, I’m sure your story will be well received. Good luck!
Hi Lauren
I wrote a short novel last year. First draft – thrilling. Going back to re-write etc – terrifying. My solution – avoidance 🙂 Not recommended as usually this is the surface manifestation of some deeper fears – like success perhaps!
You might find that once you start writing – and move through the terror – the thrill will kick in. Perhaps I could take some of my own advice. 🙂
I feel like this about every story I write, even if it’s flash fiction. Sometimes, I think I’m not really cut out to be a writer. The weird thing is, I can write and edit things like emails all day! I love seeing my words on the page. Except when it comes to fiction. ‘:-/
Totally get it Chris. i write during the day for work etc and confidently pump out the communication. Yet creative writing feels a lot less objective and unframed (in a business sense), hence more revealing. And not necessarily revealing to others, even just to ourselves as we delve in.
Hope it doesn’t stop you though.
cheers Dawn
I have new for you, Chris. You’re definitely a writer. If you’re even thinking about stories, penning flash fiction, it’s because you’ve been given a gift with words.
Still, I can relate to what you’re saying 100%. With magazine articles I’ve been paid to write, or my blog posts — there are certain things I write that I can do with such confidence.
But, with fiction, my confidence is shaky the entire time. I wonder if the whole thing sucks. Still, I keep writing it. I feel compelled to put my words on the page. I’ve done this enough times to know this is all part of the process, even is it still terrifies me so.
Bottom line: you’re a writer. Please continue to write.
I do a lot of different kinds of writing and I think lyric writing is the most difficult emotionally, because music is something that carries so much powerful feeling and I worry frequently that I’m not clever enough to write it well. The solution I’ve found is practice. This is one I’ve just redone:
She said we gotta keep quiet cause her ma might hear
I said we’re not doing nothing
So she killed the lights and sat by the window
My little soul felt twenty one
Everyone says that we’re fighting a war
Who’s the enemy, can you tell me
I know Salinger’s ghost is kicking my ass
Someone hold me down and kiss me senseless
Well we’re queer as a book and right as rain
Oh babe we’re sweet like fiction
We’re as a queer book, don’t make me say it again
Oh babe you’re sweet like friction
We’re queer as we look and right as pain
Oh babe we’re sweet like fiction
We’re as a queer book, don’t make me say it again
Oh babe you’re sweet like friction
She said it’s the solstice of our lives
And I said if you say so
So we went to the park and danced by the lightning
The fireflies ran away like halos
Well we’re queer as a book and right as rain
Oh babe we’re sweet like fiction
We’re as a queer book, don’t make me say it again
Oh babe you’re sweet like friction
We’re queer as we look and right as pain
Oh babe we’re sweet like fiction
We’re as a queer book, don’t make me say it again
Oh babe you’re sweet like friction
She said kiss me, don’t, oh kiss me, don’t
Oh kiss me, kiss me, baby come dance with me
Sing to me sweetly
I said kiss me, no, oh kiss me, no
Oh kiss me, love me, baby come stand by me
Talk to me softly
I said we’re gonna die someday
And she said if you say so
Well we’re queer as a book and right as rain
Oh babe we’re sweet like fiction
We’re as a queer book, don’t make me say it again
Oh babe you’re sweet like friction
We’re queer as we look and right as pain
Oh babe we’re sweet like fiction
We’re as a queer book, don’t make me say it again
Oh babe you’re sweet like friction
Oh babe you’re slick like friction
Oh babe you’re my favorite addiction
Great work.
Need some sweet melody to go with it.
Fantastic. I especially love, which I’m assuming is part of the chorus, “Oh babe, you’re sweet like fiction.” That could make a killer title — even shortened to, “You’re sweet like fiction.”
I’m both impressed and so jealous that you write lyrics. Music is SO POWERFUL for me, but words to songs never come to me.
Then, again, I’ve never tried. Hmmm, you’ve given me much to think about. Thank you!
I for the past several weeks I’ve written and rewritten the same page, or rather the only pages for a story that I have been thinking about for awhile. Every sentence and word just seems wrong for each draft. The only part I like is the two quotes that I start off with. I guess the terrified part of T2 is trumping the thrilled part right now.
Ouch, Helaine, I have so, so been there, and I hate it. Here’s one of my favorite posts here at TWP that Joe wrote. It helps me so much: https://thewritepractice.com/writing-exercise-unstuck/
I suggest you go to a blank page and write this way for at least half to a full page (with what Joe recommends). Write until you can feel your mind softening, rather than the harshness it seems to be stuck in now, “That word is wrong. So is that one. NONE of this is right.”
When you feel your mind soften, go into your story and write fast….faster than your inner critic. Type like you’re on fire. See if that doesn’t help you get the story out.
And! Don’t worry, if it still sounds “wrong.” The first draft of anything is getting the bones of the story down. Real writing takes places in the rewriting. Editing and polishing. Hope that helps.
I can identify with this, Helaine, where nothing written on the page seems deserving of the great impulse behind it.
Now you see me. Now you don’t. A flickering shadow. A flirting flame. The ghost that dances the pen and the dancer that pens the ghosts. A-hah!
Twirling between the thrill of terror and the terror of the thrill, I am captured, snared in my own mad net; sickened by my own dark desire to write.
By candle light, by LED, by pure unadulterated sunlight, no flame required, as the writing burns me from the inside out. It claws against metallic and bloodied mental membranes, seeking vengeance, roaring for release, and a narrative to plunge its frothing fangs in to: deeply.
Oh the terrifying freedom that abounds when pouncing upon a fictional life only to incise with pleasure and sketch out the pain.
And then… the story softens again.
The pendulum-ic dance of ink swings with ease. The creative dance finds some grace. And, in-between the terror and the thrill, a tiny voice wails from an unseen corner. And a sensible curiosity consumes the moment, teases tranquility onto its ticking tongue, tastes the change in pace. The sweet spot arrives – again.
Reassurance taps a jolly tune upon my tensed trapezium, it bounces off the lactic loaded tissue, leaps into my outward breath, then, before I even take another, it turns and sniggers.
Now you see me. Now you don’t. The moment circles in full wrath, a snarling beast drives it back. Rams my chest: voracious and smothering. I can’t breathe, its drilling in. A flickering flame.The shadow flirts, sucks the dance into a ghost of its former self, and
retreats beneath adrenaline sails, and fear-fanned wings.
This writing life is so thrilling it terrifies me. Tracing romance to tragedy, and contemplating the arc between compassion and human savagery was never meant to be easy. What was that? I swear I just saw a shadow flicker past my window. Perhaps another ghostly narrative beckoning me? Am I bold enough I wonder, staring into the mid of night. ‘Probably’ I remind myself – and the sinister smile of manic muse creases along the familiar furrow burned across my cheek.
YOWZA, Dawn! Everything you wrote was pure magic. I cannot pick out just one line that spoke to me most because I loved it all. What a pleasure this was to read. Thank you and thank you again.
Thanks Macy. That’s very generous feedback. It was a fiery fifteen minutes. 🙂
Regards Dawn
Love that, Dawn. What an inspiration to us all what we can accomplish in just 15 minutes when we turn our brains off and our fingers on!
Rousing imagery, Dawn, pulling us through the thrill and terror of your writing experience.
Thank you 🙂
Wow.. Insanely good, “The pendulum-ic dance of ink swings with ease..” Very nicely worded!
Thanks Cheesed (love that word 😉 ),
Insanely – yep I love that word too!
Welcome to TWP, hope to see some more of your sharings.
Cheers Dawn 🙂
I’m experiencing T2 right now. Two weeks ago, after consuming Robocalypse to its final page, I had a sudden, unprecedented, surging compulsion to write sci fi. In the same strange moment, the idea of continuing my (as yet unpublished) literary fiction efforts became incredibly nauseating to me.
I’ve always loved reading sci fi, and watching sci fi movies, but it somehow never
occurred to me that I could write it myself. I now realize a scientific mind that is
completely unnecessary in writing sci fi. What’s needed is imagination, curiosity about human reactions to realistic yet unreal situations, and the ability to inject some authenticity into scientific details of a story.
That day, two weeks ago, I wandered the fiction stacks at my library, and came upon a lone, worn paperback among the mostly plastic-armored hardcovers. The paperback is Robert Silverberg’s Worlds of Wonder, subtitled, Exploring the Craft of Science Fiction, a collection of 13 sci fi stories with his instructional commentary on how to write good science fiction. I put it back on the shelf, thinking, I’ll never do it. The book drew my hand once again, and insisted I take it home, where I studied it, taking notes. Though I don’t like all the stories, his instruction with each is very insightful, such as that a plot’s conclusion should be related to its science fiction conflict, to be effective.
Robocalypse wove several different plots together into a single greater one. There was
action, deep emotion, humor, novelty, authenticity, and insight into the human condition. My goal is to one day accomplish a book with similar qualities.
So, currently, the Thrill has me wandering the net, following links on progress and arguments towards eventual Mars settlement, as well as sky monsters, star jelly, and the anatomical effects of space travel upon astronauts. The Terror renders me unable
to settle on a few elements to wrap together into a practice sci fi short story or novel.
WOW, sounds like Robocalypse was a literary awakening for you. That’s fantastic. Most DEFINITELY you can write sci-fi and I think you should.
However, my question for you is (and YOU have the answer): should you start your sci fi novel now? Or, finish your literary novel first? I’m only asking because I have a friend who had “Shiny Object Syndrome.”
He would jumped into a novel gung-ho and get about half-way done, then would find another genre…a better idea and start over. He did this for years until he realized it was procrastination and fear that wouldn’t let him finish any of his novels.
That probably is NOT the case with you, but I just needed to mention it, to save you unnecessary heartache. Again, only you have the answer for your sci-fi story. Start NOW, or save for later. Good luck.
Thanks for your reply! That’s food for serious thought, and I will consider it. I’m hoping that I’m just trying to find the correct genre for the same basic story. My story undoubtedly will contain elements from my life, and I don’t want it to come out bland or depressing, nor do I feel comfortable writing an autobiography. So far, I’ve attempted magical realism and humorous literary fiction (not working out well). Maybe sci fi is the medium for telling my tales. If I find I’m not finishing this either, procrastination is probably a problem, and I’ll have to learn to stick to it. I hope I’m not just putting it off.
Good luck in deciding the best route to go. And don’t worry, no writing is ever WASTED. It’s all practice. 🙂
… The thrill has me wandering… The terror has me unable.
Yes. That pretty much sums it up. 🙂
Thanks for sharing.
Regards Dawn
Marcy, congratulations on becoming a more permanent part of The Write Practice. You deserve it!
I have two T2 projects in the works right now. One is a passion project, the story I’ve been dreaming about for years, and that I have been editing for too long. I want it to be perfect, because it’s my baby, and I’m going to be upset if it’s not as well-received as I want it to be. It’ll be thrilling to publish, but it’s terrifying to think of it not being loved like I love it.
My second T2 project is a story that I’ve NEEDED to tell for a long time. It’s brutal, it’s close to home, and it’s difficult to write. A lot of the experiences in it come from my own life, but a large part of who my main character is, and who her family are, come from a perspective that I can never expect to truly understand. I hope that with enough careful crafting, I can bring it to life for those who have lived it in a real way.
Thanks for the well wishes, Adan. I’m very excited about being a regular around here.
Both your T2 sound POWERFUL of why you want/need to share them with the world. I want you to publish both because it sounds like the world needs them.
I’m so excited for you and don’t want to dishearten you in any way, but want to prepare you since the first project is your BABY. Some people are going to love it. Some people are not. That’s just life. You and I could name ANY book every published and none will have 100% praise for it.
Since this passion project is so important to you, have you considered paying a QUALIFIED editor to make sure you’ve crossed ever T and dotted every I? If you want a suggestion, email me: marcy@mudpiewriting.com
Bottom line: you have T2 for both these projects and that’s FANTATIC. Best of luck as you share them with others!
Very good post about both sides of the coin! It sounds almost as a subgenre: the Terrifying Thriller!
Another way to say it would be: Be afraid, very afraid, and happy, very happy.
I specifically liked “You can’t not write. Sorry for the bad grammar.” As a matter of fact, I just used a very similar bad grammar in FB on a post about a disabled karateka: “You can’t can’t do it” Mine is even worse. Terrifying!
Also, I wanted to post a curiosity that I have just discovered, but wasn’t sure where to share it with the write practice community, so I’ll post it here.
It is a computer “game”, about exploring 3 dead civilisations and writing a log about them. You can have writing prompts or completely free adlib. Also, you can read what others wrote. Could be a good way to get out of writer’s block, or if you are in a very terrifying fase, to change path. Or, just a different kind of writing exercise.
Elegy of a Dead World
http://www.dejobaan.com/elegy/
You’ll be happy to know, Bruce, that your Terrifying Thriller cracked me up so much that I spit my hot tea out of my mouth when I read that! Fortunately, I was not aimed at my laptop.
I think your computer game/writing exercise sounds intriguing. Quite frankly, I don’t know where/how to suggest to explore the idea further. However, google it and see what you find because you never know what’s going to be the NEXT BIG THING! Thanks for your thoughts.
Rese stood on the edge of the universe, staring out over the horizon at the endless golden sea that reflected the light of the setting sun. Stars were starting to appear, peppering the darkening blue with pinpricks of light. The craggy shoreline dropped out from underneath his feet mere inches from where he was standing, swooping down to meet the water where it flirted with the rocks. A bead of sweat dripped from his brow, mingling with the tears that had not yet stopped falling from his weary eyes. Rese felt no shame from his grief; rather, he embraced it as a sign that he was alive, still helplessly alive. He wished so much that his troubles would end, and at the same time he knew that he didn’t have it in him to jump.
Footsteps approached behind him; he sighed, clenching his fists, trying not to panic. She’s going to kill me, he thought, not entirely convinced that it would be such a bad thing. The girl, with wild red hair not quite kept in check by a semblance of a ponytail, stepped up beside him. She barely came up to Rese’s shoulder, but she still intimidated him. Having seen her in action before, he knew that while he might be bigger, in a fight she could certainly outpace him. Rese’s heart gave a squeeze in anticipation of her next move. Is she going to kill me? Considering the decision he’d made, he thought, she surely had a mind to, at least. But she hadn’t started strangling him yet.
After a moment of tense silence, Rese finally tilted his head slightly toward the girl, still not looking at her, and murmured, “Go ahead.”
“Hmm?” she replied, turning her eyes fully on him. He flinched, as she had struck him with that emerald green gaze.
Terrific, Leah! I like the attention to detail, the emotion + the mystery ( I WANT to know what decision Rese made that the girl had the right to kill him). I want to know MORE and that’s always a good sign.
Thanks for sharing your practice.
Thank you very much – and thank you for the awesome post!
My pleasure.
I’m sitting bored in class one day. I look at the clock. Ten minutes till class ends. Ughh. My mind wanders. I wonder what mom’s making for dinner today… Suddenly an idea hits me. A fantasy world, exiting characters, an epic adventure! I impatiently wait for my release of this torturous wait, I have to write NOW. Ideas for scenes race through my head, fragments of sentences flit in my mind. My hand itches to put them on paper. When school’s out and i finally escape to my room I grab my pencil and a note book. And freeze. What, am I crazy? I can’t do this! Panic courses through me making me scream inside. But this is such a good idea, why are you hesitating? You’re wasting time! My hand jerks. And pauses. Excitement and fear fight for control. What do I do?!
Thats how most of my writing happens.
Thank you, Clara, for so beautifully describing what happens to most writers. When we can’t write, we’re DYING to do so. And when we have all the time in the world, we freeze up.
I’ve found when I write anyway, the words eventually begin to flow. Your photo is wonderful, too!
Thanks, I found that too. If I ignore all the mixed up feelings and just write, even if it sounds bad I can always go fix it later. At least the words are on the page. And the picture was an accident, I didn’t realize I put it there, haha.
You nailed it, Clara. Ignore the mixed-up feelings and just write. Fix whatever is bad later. Just WRITE!
I came across an idea when I was playing one of my classic PC games, Planescape Torment where the intro to the game you see a scene at the beginning of the game with a what I would call a zombie pushing around a sarcophagus since he was working in a temple with other zombies the cult of the temple used for all of their menial work. I thought to myself “what would happen if the zombies unionized and went on strike?” That started me on thinking of writing a quick HR article on the proper management of the undead – specifically zombies. That then worked into the thoughts of coming up with a complete manual/business plan for evil geniuses, the arch enemy bad guys, well, I hope you get the picture. This both thrills me and terrifies me because I believe that nothing has been completed like this and terrifies me because I don’t know how well this could be received. I would like this to be a book filled with tongue in cheek views of being a bad guy and how to make being a bad guy a long lasting and profitable business. So here goes with the first paragraph of my fictitious guide/business plan.
Not
many evil wizards can find within themselves the true mettle to manage and use
the undead. Seen by many as outright foul and abominations to nature and
religion, they also can greatly reduce your reputation when seeking alliances
with other evil ones, basically hide hat fact that you use the undead, make
alliances with others who see the benefits of necromancy and/or if you can
skillfully market it to others, sell them on the benefits of having a little
support from the “life alternative” staffing method. The bottom line is support
and if you can sacrifice some reputation to save on your minion budget, you may
find the exchange is very negligible.
Hello all, I stumbled upon thewritepractice and found some amazing tips and pieces.. It’s truly inspirational.. Looking forwards to being an active member of your vibrnant community!
______________________________________________________________________
The wind carried the monotonous beat of terror,
just as the clock struck 12.
My brain bounced then off of the pale, cold concrete
Then a leg came down from the sky,
And stomped on that which was left inside.
suddenly all of me, was nothing but a void,
A mere and bare shell.
So I got dressed and left the house.
I really needed a drink.
I ordered my first, and yonderly sipped on my poisonous brew.
Soon a man came up to the bar,
The man had a black hat,
His nose drooped down from his face as though made of wax.
His limp kept him from walking straight, though he held himself with a crooked cane.
His presence seemed obtrusive,
As though mocking the human race.
He sat on the stool left to me, he sat there and stared.
I caught his cold glare from the corner of my eye- a fast glance and turned away.
And that alone was enough to get my blood to pounding in my ears;
An ostentiferious sensation swallowed me whole,
As though that man had omens by his side.
I avoided eye contact, sat there bemused.
I looked down at my drink, still some alcohol in sight.
Funny, I couldn’t remember a time when a drink lasted this long.
The man in the black hat chuckled and beneath his breath he
muttered: “You’ve died”
I got off my stool, left the bar through the back,
And into the flashing lights of provocative thighs signaling me to a cold bed and an empty house.
But now I was rushing to my dim lit room, with a pulsating crave,
to violently write serenading scriptures and scripts of foretold memories.
I grabbed my pen and started to narrate the tale,
Of the wind that carried the monotonous beat of terror just as the clock struck 12.
let me show you how to do this badly
for the next fifteen minutes I’ll show everyone that you are a writer and that you were born to write
why
because after my time limit is up you will know no doubt that you can write better than i can anyone can and that is why im nothing special and why my mother tried to abort me when i was just her warm tissue in her gut because deep inside she knew all along
a mothers intuition
that i wasnt going to amount to a hill of beans
that didnt even matter because i was born anyway
i came out kicking and screaming and i almost got my revenge when i was born because i found out later that my mother almost died when she gave birth to me
i guess that will teach her to try to abort me
over time i grew to love her it wasn’t easy at first but i kept going to see my shrink every week and he would tell me
i needed to look on the positive side of things
i needed to be thankful i was still alive even if i would never walk
even if i could not talk or learn or do things that kids of mothers who didnt want to abort their babies could
that part made it hard
to love her
to know that if she really wanted me i could be normal like normal kids are but that is ok who needs to walk and talk anyway im just glad im alive and so im thankful for that at least that is what my shrink says be thankful for that
This is probably my favorite article of all time! (Okay I have a lot of favorites.) But I read this article at the perfect time. There is a novel that I want to start writing and it thrills and terrifies me, which, after reading this article, I learned that those are the perfect conditions for writing! I’m going to write chapter 1 today, and see what happens. Thank you so much for writing this article!