…it would tell you a lot of stories.
…it would tell you a lot of stories.
I was writing a poem when I saw him hack the body a part.
It was the second time. The first time I saw him I was in class. It must have been a week prior. I had drifted of into a frivolous daydream during history class. Mr.Hanikus was writing something on the tronic-board. There was a black bird outside, cawing. At first I didn’t know what to do. I let it envelop me completely.
The window before me was frosted. The figure, shattered in light, was tearing the corpse a part limb by limb behind it. No blood. Sounds. Dynamos and motors. Everything became still; a humming void of nothing behind my eyes. I found my hands clasped around my hair when I awoke. Dust and decay had clawed its way into my nostrils. Maybe others have felt the same as me. It happens just like that. Thoughts. Feelings. The pouring of another soul into yours.
The Chain event. I don’t exactly know when it happened. Probably at a time when everything and everyone seemed most connected. We liked to think of ourselves that way before it happened. Linked. By cables and computers and our ‘smart’ pocketed devices. Thousands of miles in one electronic nano-second. There must have come a point when the Universe had gotten sick of it. It wanted to shake things up. Toss us into the wild. To see if we could survive, if the only thing we were connected to, was each other.
But it didn’t happen that way. We slowly began to feel, see and experience the worse of us. Connections to people we could neither relate to nor understand. People that defied explanation. That defied logical sense. Bad people.
I feel Tox for the second time in my room. He’s tearing a part another body. I taste sweat on my own lips. It isn’t mine. My eyes search for something that isn’t there. I’m seeing his memories – I know it. He tears the flesh from a man in a black suit. His jaw snaps and breaks across his fingers like a chicken bone.Tox’s arm is metallic- a cannon of twisted chrome. He’s obviously a Kinetic. One of those things.
By the time he’s finished I know he has stopped trying to remember. He can feel me too. That I know. I envision him sitting up, wherever he is, and trying to remember me. It’s difficult for me to remember his face. There’s too much haze. I don’t think he can see mine.
But he knows my name. Samantha. I heard him speak it once in a dream.
Recently a person told me, “Nobody will ever tell you that you’re a somebody. Don’t undervalue yourself. You’re a somebody when you say you are.”
Many times we think of ourselves as ‘wannabes’ or ‘amateurs’. We’re looking for validation. Some measure of success that will proclaim to others who we are. We don’t really have the confidence to say we already are what we want to be. It’s frightening. Scary.
But is it true?
Does 100,000 Twitter followers make me successful? What about 1001 email subscribers to my blog? 999 Tumblr followers must mean I’m successful…right?
Whether you aspire to be a writer, a producer, an accountant or a business man – there a moments in life where we all share that feeling. We look at other people’s success. We compare ourselves to them and wonder, “How come I’m not there yet?”
It’s taken me a while to realise that it doesn’t take a number to define success. It doesn’t take tons of awards or testimonials. It just takes one moment. One single moment when you make a choice. In other words, it takes a plan.
A 24/7, 365 day plan that is. It’s about dedicating yourself to what you want to achieve and just heading in that direction. It’s a start.
Just don’t stop. Keep going.
I don’t consider myself amazingly successful at the moment. I have no major Hollywood credits to my name, no book deals, no million dollar bank account and no Mercedes-Benz to back it up. However, I do feel I have one thing.
I feel I’m a somebody.
I may not have all of those things just yet (don’t get me wrong, I’m aiming for a mansion haha)…but I have little things.Little things that have changed and touched — on teeeny weeny scale — some people’s lives.
Not in a big way — but little successes. Sometimes, it’s just about starting.
Here are my starts:
I have a story that’s currently in development at a major television network. It’s a start.
I have two fully completed novels that are awaiting to be edited. It’s a start.
I have a blog that I feel connects with people on some level and is the beginning of something perhaps even greater. It’s a start.
I had an idea this morning about a young girl that changes the life of a murderous cyborg. Hey…it’s a start.
Starting is the hardest thing. Just remember you’re a somebody. And the more starts you have, the more possible endings you will create for your own story. So here’s to starts.
Why don’t you tell me yours? 🙂
Finally gotten around to developing the main villain of ‘Dinosaurs…with Problems!’
His name is Mr.Quasi, a genius inventor, that as a child, managed to solve ALL of the worlds problems (global warming, wars, lagging computers…everything!) .
A zillionaire through his company PRO-GONE Corp, he singlehandedly changed the world. However, realising that he has no other problems to solve, he slowly began to create his own brand of problems for the world (secretly of course), through creating monsters, robots and witches. He’s a straight out villian – believing it his destiny to cause problems for the world.
It’s up to our hero, Rock, and his dinosaur pals, to show him that there’s hope. And…they’re gonna kick his ass.
Writing is hard.
I haven’t said that enough. It really is. It drains you. It takes time away from doing more “fun” things during your week, and sometimes, even time away from your loved ones (at least in mind). Friends ask you to go out – you can’t. People wonder why you work so much – so do you.
It’s just bloody difficult!
Writing is hard.
I’ve been on a pursuit of what I like to call “The Voice” for the past few months. I think I’m nearing it. An original voice that I’m most comfortable writing in and telling stories with.
I’m waking up early, I’m writing and reading everyday and I’m cooking up ideas and penning them down. Most of all, I’m learning.
But yes, it hasn’t always turned out the way I wanted it to.
I haven’t been tending to this blog..but for good reason. I’m proud of myself. I’ve been writing like a mad man for the past month or because I want to reach the next level. The next milestone of my career.
The next mindset of my art.
And I’ve made a big decision by putting down a project I’ve been editing, because it was finally time to say goodbye.
It was truly a life defining moment for me. The project in question was the culmination of at least ten years of thinking, writing, tinkering and dreaming. It was a part of me. It was a story populated with characters that I can never ever forget.
I haven’t finished…but I had to stop. There comes a time when you just have to.
Because of a deal that I have recently struck over this project (which is exciting in itself but not literary in nature), I was put into a difficult position. I had to stop. I just had to put it down.
It will live on in other forms…but not in a book for now.
I consulted by girlfriend before doing it and to be honest, without her perpetual love, understanding and intuitive ability to put things into perspective, I couldn’t have done it. She’s my guiding light and I cannot express how profoundly grateful I am for her.I was glad she was there to coach me through it. I’ll never forget that.
Now sitting in bed and for the first time taking out my notepad, I did something today that I have also been neglecting.
I wrote on a piece of paper.
No Facebook. No Youtube. No Internet or television. No distractions.
I know that’s crazy – everyone writes on a piece of paper maybe once a day. But for me it’s different. I wrote on a piece of paper without an end, dream or outcome in mind. I wrote on a piece of paper just to write.
It was simple. It was refreshing. And it was bloody fun!
We can sometimes lose the fun factor in simple things we take for granted. We can “fall out of love” with what we do because we are bogged down by deadlines, the (sometimes horrible) people we work with and our finances. It happens. It’s natural.
But don’t forget it.
Over this past month I’ve fallen back in love with the art. The excitement of penning things down. The smell of paper and the simple strokes of a pen. The art of dreaming.
Don’t ever fall out of love with the one thing that makes you happy.You’ll work, rush, play…but never forget it. If it makes you happy it’s worth holding onto (including relationships).
Now, I’m focused on a new direction…for my next story. And I’m not writing this for money, fame, a “deal”, a contract or an agent. I’m not even writing it to be a bestseller or to be a groundbreaking novel.
I’m writing this for fun.
And for you.