Wednesday, November 21, 2012

What Writing Does


I am failing at NaNoWriMo worse than I failed algebra (I rocked pre-calc by the way, even though it's ten times harder. No idea how that happened). I write solely during church services. Oh, and waiting at the psychologist's office - for my sister, surprisingly enough. That's about once a week for maybe two hours tops. Not much writing gets done.

But, beautiful thing writing is, I still feel the effects of it. I'm not sure whether that's good or bad, as, well, you'll see.

So, since I can't say anything about my writing, outside of it going somewhere slower than a sloth, I have a list of things writing does. Some of these may just be me and my weirdness, but other things are pretty universal. Outside of occasional freaks who write simply because they are good at it and might as well be clipping their nails. By the way, those people are not humans. If you meet one - RUN, very far and pretty darn fast.

1.) It helps express emotions.
     Writerly people either have a ton of emotions that are everywhere and everyone can tell what is going on because it is practically written across their faces or they hold it all in and seem to be a constant weird. I tend to be the latter one unless PMSing. Then, forget it, you know exactly how I feel. 
          Note that the latter kind of writer is not emotionless. We are not Bella Swan and walk around either looking like walls or we are about to barf. 
                                                            Not us. Not in the least. We spaz at least.

      Well, anyway, those emotions need to get out somehow - or in a healthy nonallovereverybodywithinreach way. Writing does that. Having a bad day? The character has a bad day or goes through something or the pen is suddenly on the verge of breaking through to the other page. And whenever the writing is over, it's all good. We don't have to pretend to be okay or go around stomping/crying everywhere.

2.) It gives us something to do in class or at the doctor's office or anywhere boring.
     This is pretty much self-explanatory. But just in case you haven't been anywhere boring lately (I envy you. Please share how this is possible, maybe take my place at the doctor's office), sometimes, in life, things happen that have us sitting there not entirely sure what to do, our attention on nothing in particular, sleep seeming really exciting. But, suddenly add a pen and some paper and viola! Suddenly there is nowhere you would rather be. (This is a great way to get through class because it looks like insane note-taking, given a few pauses over possible grammatical errors or the name of a character, when the teacher sounds like he came from Charlie Brown's world.)

3.) Writing provides a fantastic way to scare people away.
     This is something entirely optional, but if ever looking to scare someone away, just look to whatever story you are writing at the moment and I promise you, something can be found to gush over that will scare that annoying guy who keeps on smiling at you away. Perhaps it's a death you are absolutely torn over (begin crying and snotting everywhere if at all possible). This is considered abnormal because aren't we in control of who dies? So why do we get upset over character's deaths? (If this question is asked, feel free to glare and begin shouting at the top of your lungs). Or maybe you are absolutely ecstatic/very very mad over a romance. Either way, extreme feelings towards a romance and going on and on about how amazing/annoyingwhydidtheyhavetoenduptogether? can scare someone off.
      My personal favorite is when a language being created is mentioned and then the language is used. That can be scary as heck. Or so various guys I scared away have said.

Without writing...
4.) Helps with sanity.
     Seriously. It does. Those voices going around your head that just don't make any sense? Try writing them down. Suddenly there's a story and they are happy, and when the story is done, gone! Unless you beg them to stay that is. Some are just that loveable.
    Writing really does help me with my sanity. I can tell when it's been too long since I sat down and wrote if things beginning making less sense and I'm depressed and angry and acting really weird. If I'm suddenly acting like five different people, chances are I need to write. And then I write and almost instantly am back to good ol' optimistic, freaking people out, bouncing off the walls me.
    And, when stressed, instead of dealing with all the crap that can come from that, simply writing really eases the stress and is something productive. So instead of going insane from stress, writers try to write.

5.) Writing is a way to escape reality
     Life sucks. Let's face it. There are bad people and the news is scary and Billy Graham is alive when we thought he died ten years ago (or maybe that's just me...?). And there's not much magic left to reach out to and grab ahold of. Even if you try to, someone is there saying it's not scientific and thus not real, you are insane. Sometimes it is enough to make the beautiful things fade away and you are left with a burnt biscuit that is glaring at you.
Lucy uncovers the Wardrobe     Writing helps us remember the good, helps us to see it in everyday life and situations. We give our characters hope and find we have it ourselves; it was just buried away somewhere deep. And even if the ending isn't a happy one, my goodness, something turned out alright. Things all worked out in there own sad, beautiful way.
          To get to that place, we must first delve into another's reality and stop living our own lives. When we pick up the pen (or begin pounding on a laptop), it's like that moment when Lucy whisks the covering off the wardrobe. It's exciting, unsure, and the beginning of a journey, en escape from whatever war is happening in our own lives. We go on adventures and meet new people and help them. Sometimes we visit old friends and learn more about them. When we come back, it's as a new person it seems. And we are slightly better suited for reality. We come out of our wardrobe of words knowing that there is a certain magic in the unfairness of life.

6.) New Friends!
     Really. I kid you not. Writing is pretty solitary for most people and writer's aren't always the best people persons. But when a writer meets another writer, there is something there that breaches awkwardness. Even if all they do is talk about their characters and how upsetting the characters are and the inksplots that may or may not look like a cow that appeared randomly on a leg, nothing can take the place of a writerly friend. It's fantastic.
    And fun! So much fun! Having someone who shares your weird pains and fears that deal with beings that do not live in this reality is fantastic. At times it's as though that other person is a drug and you walk away from them high. You can scare people together! And learn each others' languages! Argue about what genre a story belongs in!

Writing does so much more, by the way. It's like peanuts. Thousands of uses and purposes. There are even people who claim to be allergic to it (those people we feel really sorry for. How can they live without writing??). And a whole ton of people take is for granted and dismiss it. Use it only for their sandwiches. Such a waste. But writing stands firm in its wonderfulness.

It's also hilarious at times....


Tuesday, November 13, 2012

People Suck abut Anberlin is Amazing

People Suck. Absolutely positively suck. They enrage me and cause parts of me that really enjoy weapons to flare up and wish the peace-loving part of me weren't so strong outside of my house.

Happy, I know. But people just keep on failing and keep on giving me reason to dislike them and want to incinerate them on the spot and then bring them back to life because I would rather not have guilt eating me up all my life. They ruin everything! Not just lines in the grocery store or movies that could be good or my drive home from work. Nope. That was too easy. Now, they have to find new inventive ways of ruining my concert experience.

I'm used to the typical Concert Jerks. You know, those people who believe that even though they are five times your height they need to push past you to stand in front of you? Or the drunk people who smell so strongly of alcohol it feels as if you are the drunk one? But the people I had to deal with really brought out that secret psycho killer in me.

I am all for Dancing at concerts. The jumping up and down and fist pumping (Okay, maybe that's not dancing, but it's the closest thing for most people at a rock concert). Some swaying. Maybe even hip movement. But when the dancing takes over twenty feet and involves insane groping, tongues flashing everywhere, and pelvis interaction that normally makes babies - I now want to see you thrown out.

And it wasn't just a single person, or even a person and their Person. Nope. It was a whole group of ridiculous people who seriously need to learn the difference between their bedroom and a concert.

I should have known to run and hide when I first looked over. She was wearing tighter-than-skin pants with a tighter-than-skin shirt that covered very little of her feminine charm. And there was a guy slung around her hips. I decided not to be judgmental.

Ten minutes later the group is next to us. And now two guys are hanging on her. I turn to say something to The Boy and holy bits and pieces! There is a hand down her shirt. Does anyone else find this awkward or is it just me?

By the time the main band came on, I was trying not to puke as the group, now directly in front of us, began trying to have sex. Then more joined. Lovely!! And then were moving back, to allow for the space needed to do... stuff. Within five minutes, all because of this "dancing", we had gone from within reaching distance of the stage to so far back I could hear myself singing along to the songs. And the wonderful sight of pelvis thrusting and moaning and groping and stuff I try to avoid was still right there.

Until I decided, what is ten feet anyway? And went back even further.

But, outside of that, the concert was amazing. The first two bands - unknowns with really attractive members and amazing vocals - were good. I later bought their CD and got made fun of for being "adorable" when asking them to sign. And the headliner - Anberlin - was amazing. This wasn't the first time I got to see them live, hopefully not the last, but I was still amazed. Especially because I'm not the biggest fan of their newest album, Vital, but the songs were up to par live.

To anyone who is a fan of Anberlin  - seeing them live is totally worth it.

Wednesday, November 7, 2012

NaNoWriMo Begins to Infect Me

It's a week into National Novel Writing Month and.... I have written very little. It's a bit of a disappointment. But. BUT BUT BUT. I have a title. Which may not sound impressive. At all. But I have this habit of avoiding naming my stories as if they are the name of He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named (is that secretly saying that everything I write is evil?).


The story has nothing to do with him though. Or, as far as I can tell it doesn't. Who knows? Little psychotic Belle/Macy/Lily might have a secret obsession with him. Believe you me, that would not be surprising. Her one joy in life is freaking people out with how dark and creepy and morbid and awkward she is. When she was four she would threaten to tie her parents to their bed and light the bed on fire - and laugh as they burned to death. So taking a fancy with a certain Creep would be right up her alley.

She's actually the one who whispered the title to me. I think it's lame and cannot see the relevance of it for my life, but she is insisting it will fit perfectly in the end.

Comatose. The name of the first Skillet album I bought. So it feels all unoriginal and slightly stupid, but hey, I have a name.

Of course, the three people hanging telling the story won't tell me their names. Maybe I can threaten to send them off to fight a war or into a collapsing building or something life-threatening to get them to spill. Having to put ________ where all names should be is sad and frustrating as I begin to think I am a complete failure at being a writer.

Which I am, I'm sure, but do I really need to be told so through a lack of names fifteen pages in? No, not really. I much prefer having The Boy laugh at whatever obvious mistake I made.

Well, of to sew some pants, throw some pillows, and dance in the snow.

Saturday, November 3, 2012

On the Risk of Being Mushy

I have decided that the best part about any romance is the tacky quotations I can procure and pretend I want to happen in real life. You know, the part where the guy declares his undying love and the girl goes all mushy and then they kiss and happily ever after? Then the guys watching it roll their eyes and the girls go "Awwww!" Yeah, that part.

I actually really hate that part. Hated it. I would roll my eyes, maybe even laugh, 'cause seriously, what guys says those thing? No guy who isn't a fictional character. (Thus the lack of amazing romantic quips from any of my male characters.)

And then I met The Boy. I should have run away screaming and throwing things as soon as my lovely friend said anything about how perfect we would be for each other. I should have kicked him when he stared at me and shook his head when I was muttering about how I am a useless stupid human being. I should never have said anything about liking being the one in darkness because then no one had to see my face and then he never would have said "But I like seeing your face, it's beautiful."

And I would have never found myself thinking OhmyGoodness. An actual real-life breathing boy that I know said that! 

Love Comments

But then, I wouldn't have been being a grouch today and stomping around grumbling about anything I could when a certain Person wrapped his arms around me in a hug. And that made me smile. 

And if that hadn't happened this wouldn't have happened:

The Boy: Do you know what is one of the best things in the world?

Me: Erm... Bagels?

The Boy: No, silly. When I see you smiling like that.

And suddenly, I was in a book. Or a movie. And the Perfect Guy was looking at me and saying that me smiling is the best thing in the world. And I went all mushy and there was a kiss. But instead of rolling my eyes this time, I closed them and thanked God for giving me a guy straight out of a book.