Each and every single one of us needs a way to escape reality from time to time. Some of us go for a walk to let go off all thoughts and worries, others workout or go and get lost in one of their hobbies. There are various ways to release stress and anxiety, yet not all of them are suitable for every person.
Ever since I remember I have loved to write stories, and I am still doing it today. Over the years I have learned how to make better use of my passion, how to get better at it, and how it helps me when I need to shut down for a while.
You don't have to be passionate about writing for it to help you dealing with your problems and worries. All of you should know that talking about things helps, but so does writing. When you don't want to talk about something to anyone, or you just don't feel ready yet to do so, write your thoughts down. Tear all of your feelings out and pour it onto that piece of paper.
Don't worry about the world around you and focus on this, because afterwards you will feel so much better about it, because you released it and let go. You put that stone off of your chest which was weighing you down all along. You finally gave the ability to breath back to yourself, and even though that might not solve your problems, you will now have a clear mind to re-think everything and make the right decisions for yourself.
I don't really know where I am heading with this blogpost. Somehow I felt like saying a few words about this. Sorry if, once again, this is a completely unstructured mess, because this coming out straight from my head.
Even as a fiction writer you will always put pieces of yourself into a story, whether you like to or not. You probably won't even realize it. You might give the love interest of your character almond shaped, and hazelnut coloured eyes, purely because that's your preference in real life. You will choose the character's hobbies, names and living situations from your own experiences and preferences. If you hated anything concerning football, you would probably not make your main character a person that loves football more than anything and doesn't shut up about it. In fact, you would probably rather make that person hate football just like you.
People say that many books tell the same things today, because they've got a pretty similar story line. But that's not quite true. Yes, there are a shit ton of books out there were the main character falls in love with someone, then finds out a dark secret about them or they have a jealous ex or good friend, and then they break up before they get back together in the end.
But if you look closely, none of these books are the same. Look at the books like people. There are no two people that are the same, because we're all different and each of us is perfect in our own way. Books are like that too. There are similar ones that get along in a category and will follow each other for years and years in the world of book shelves and book shops. Yet, even though they have a similar main story line, they will never be the complete same.
An author will always put their own preferences and hates in their, their own experiences, plainly because that's how writing works, and that's why writing gives many of us such pleasure and happiness. Because through writing these words, we can express our feelings, without having to say them out loud or writing these exact words down.
His deep frown always made him appear like one of those bad guys, who's girlfriend you better not touch because he might as well kill you. Yet, whenever you saw him talking to someone, it seemed like there was a hint of relief to be seen in the corners of his strong but pale grey, almond shaped eyes. I always thought him to be fascinating somehow. There was something about the way he moved through the world around him, something about his closeness towards anything and anyone trying to come close to him, that drew me to him.
See? A few sentences that might seem very quick written and with little thought put in it, yet there is so much more to it, that even we as authors don't discover ourselves. Out of these few sentences you could read so much about me.
Maybe I like grey eyes, maybe I just have a love for face details, maybe I have a thing for bad boys, maybe I like watching the people that are around me, trying to find out more about them. Maybe I would just like to have someone like that in my life, because we also put our own wishes and ideals into these words.
It's a list of maybes and I won't tell you what my own interpretation is, but doesn't this prove to you how much you can pour into a few words on paper? Isn't it fascinating how making these weird little drawings in our notebooks or on our computer can make us feel better about ourselves, our problems and the world around us? Sometimes it truly does feel like magic to me, and I hope I'm not the only one thinking that way.
A few months ago, in November to be precisely, I started a new
NaNoWriMo (National Novel Writing Month) project, after planning out many ideas for the few weeks beforehand. Pretty much every day expect for Christmas week I've been working on that book, and I still am today, three months later, still sitting on my first draft.
Writing books is not as easy as everyone thinks it is. Sometimes I wish it was, particularly in the moments when I'm really bored of the scene that I am currently writing, and I just don't know how to put it down on paper and get it right. But then again I think - nothing in life comes easy, why should writing do that then. If writing books was easy, everyone would be doing it, and that would definitely take the fun out of it.
The thing is, if you love writing you will start writing at some point, even if takes a while, because you won't be able to let go of it, even though it's hard. I often find myself struggling with scenes, especially the ones in between big events happening in the novel that I am exited for. I get so eager to write that next event that I loose the motivation to write that scene I am currently working on. It's annoying and tough, but at the same time I know it's worth it. I do it, because I enjoy it and it makes me happy, and as you all know - we should always do the things that make us happy.
The goal of hopefully being able to publish books of my own one day, definitely helps too, I've got to admit that. But without working, which will also contain these boring scenes in between that I don't want to write because I am so exited about the next one, I would never be able to achieve that dream. A book needs a few scenes in between huge events, even if it's just the character taking a breath and thinking about something for a few lines. Wanting to achieve that dream also includes lots of practicing and without me trying and writing and writing and writing, I would never get better at things.
My writing style has changed a lot since my first stories, because I am now a lot more educated and into it, because I didn't stop writing over the years. But I would have never gotten to where I am now, if I wouldn't have done that. Practice makes you better. I won't tell you to write every day if you love writing and want to publish your own books one day, just as much as I won't tell you to hop on a plane each day and fly somewhere new if you would like to fly airplanes yourself one day. Bad example, sorry, but you get what I mean.
For the sake of this blogpost, I might as well share with you a scene from my current project, which is kind of inspired by Harry Potter but not. It's still my own story and completely different, even though they have similarities.
It's basically about a girl who lives post world war three, so slightly set forward into the future (although I am praying there will never be a number three), who thinks she's finally done with school when something strange occurs, which then throws her into the middle of a supernatural college. There are several kinds of magical creatures, and she has to face a transition of her own into one of these ones at the beginning, before school starts. But even though she seems to fit in a lot better there than human school, soon she has to face an enemy which she never thought to would have to fight.
Did that sound like a full fantasy children novel? Sorry if it did, it's definitely not that! I just don't know how to describe and summarize it in the right way.
I would love to tell you more about that part, but that would just give way too much away. As I said, I haven't edited any of this yet, purely because I am not even finished with my first draft, but I might as well share it with you anyway, because there is no chance I will get that done before uploading this haha. There are many many changes going to happen in the editing process, and I am already kind of exited for it. I really hope that this will pretty much end up as a masterpiece that I might be able to send off one day, because I really really enjoy the plot and the characters that I have come up with, but that will probably take a long time because I am quite the perfectionist when it comes to my writings.
I should also mention that this is the first time ever that I am writing a book in English because I really really wanted to try it, so please forgive me if it's still pretty horrendous. I only realized when starting this, that even though I thought I didn't have the worst vocabulary, there is so much left to learn for me. It's like I am having to learn to write pretty much all over again, because sentences sound so differently. That's a shitty explanation of the situation, but whatever. It's harder than I thought it would be to find the right words sometimes in order not to repeat myself a billion times. But anyway, here's the excerpt. Enjoy, and let me know what you think!
When I awaken, I search for my memory, keeping my eyes
closed. What happened? There is a weird feeling tumbling through my
stomach. I can't make out what it is, but something is wrong here.
Something is definitely not like it should be.
I open my eyes, and stare at a bare, and grey ceiling. I
slowly get up, and precisely put my naked feet on the floor, trying
hard not to make any noises. I slide onto my feet, the grey, and
washed out night gown making its way down to my thighs. The colours
of the room seem to have faded, the sun probably being on the
opposite end of the building right now. I stay still for a few
minutes, examining the room, that is pretty much empty except for the
bed that I had just been on. I wait for noises, but when they don't
come, I finally set my hand on the door knob and very very slowly
turn it around.
I nearly faint when I open the door and look straight
into a face only centimeters away from my own. I am paralysed for a
few seconds, maybe minutes. The young man that is standing front of
me can only be few years older than me, maybe 5, maybe 10, or
somewhere in between. At least that is what the slight and starting
wrinkles on his forehead tell me. His hair is somewhere in between a
dark brown and a black, the lighting makes it hard to guess, but it's
slightly curly, even if it's not that long. His bright and ice blue
eyes seem to stare right through my soul. His nose is slightly
hooked, but pretty geometrical. There's a little grin on his lips,
the left side of his lip slightly moving upwards and revealing a pair
of pretty white and straight teeth. A little too white and straight
to be real, and quite creepy, especially that close.
My eyes start to follow down to his black suit, but he
stops me by starting to talk: ,, I see, you have finally woken up,
Miss. May I?” His hand touches the door, as if asking for
permission to enter. His voice is rusk, yet has a tone of youth to it.
If I had any idea where I was, I might have thought it sounded pretty
nice. I stare at his suit a few more seconds, trying to make out how
I will find a way home quickly, before I slowly take a few steps
back. Still, the door nearly hits me in the face, when he throws the
door open. Only now I notice his lean and athletic figure. He's nearly
two heads taller than I am, meaning I have to look up to him.
,, Do you have any idea where you are and how you got
here, Maisie?”, I can't stop staring into his eyes whilst he is
talking to me. I jump a little at the sound of my name. My actual
name. How does he know my name? How does he know that name? I have
never told anyone about it before. No one but my parents and my
sister know and knew about this name. How does this person know more
than I have ever lead out of my mouth. I'm missing something. My
instinct is telling me that immediately.
,, Who are you?”, I ask, instead of answering his
question. ,, Answer me first. This is extremely important.”, he
responds with a concerned look on his face. ,, No.”, is all I say.
,, No as in you aren't giving me an answer or no you don't know where
you are or how you got here?” ,, The last thing I remember is a
fire. And no I have got no idea where I am, but you mind telling me
so I can get some clothes and leave real quick. I have got some
things to figure out. Thank you.”, I answer with an angry undertone
in my voice. I don't even try to hide it. ,, Wow, easy little bird.
You are going to find out all you need to know as soon as you have
changed into something occasionally fitting clothes. It's a big day
for you, and I am way for exited for you than I am allowed to be.”,
a goofy smile runs over his lips. I would have melted at this a few
days ago, but right in that second I am more annoyed and confused
than being able to let any other emotion control me.
,, Keep that to yourself. Tell me right now and let me
leave.”, I respond quickly, my whole body put under tension. ,, I
like your confidence, but you aren't going to get far with that here,
if that is all you have got. Trust me, you don't want to hear it from
me, because you will probably faint anyway. At least, that is what I
would probably do. Better in a sensitive way, than hard and quick
from me... There's a dress under your bed. Change and you will be
waited for. Don't worry about it, just do it. You will understand
very soon.” I can't quite make out whether he is making fun of me,
especially because he hasn't stopped smiling, and I feel like
punching him in the face. Who is he and why does he think he is
obliged to tell me what to do?
,, Don't even think about it, I have got a hard punch.
Trust a stranger for a few moments, will you? And if let you down,
you will never have to do it again.”, he steps outside and closes
the door behind without another word.
Before I am even able to breath again, the door opens
another time: ,, Amphis.” ,, What?”, I ask, confused what he is
talking about. ,, Amphis. That's my name.” A second later he is out
again and I am alone.
Sorry if that was really shitty. I was trying hard not to edit more than some spelling mistakes, as I am forcing myself to wait with that until I have completely finished the first draft. It's not perfect yet, but that's what the editing process is for. It's probably going to take me so long but I am looking forward to it so much. Reading over this for the first time since writing it to put this in here actually made me realize how much I actually enjoy and love this story. But, I think it's time to leave you alone and use the time off of school work to do some more writing. I've got a book to write.
How did you like the excerpt? Any constructive criticism is always very welcome! :) Do you love to write yourself or do you have a different passion that you love spending on? Let me know.
Have a great day ♥
Love, Jacqueline Xx
P.S. Please do not copy/share/use the excerpt of the novel above without my permission!
