Unblocked

I finally managed to write chapter two, though when I looked back and read chapter one I sort of felt bored with it. It had too much unnecessary information. I'm thinking of probably cutting it down and insert bits and pieces of it in the story, but I think I would have to write all the chapters first before I do that. I would most likely add a different scene, but I couldn't figure out what yet.

I can't say I'm in the zone at the moment. I'm having real difficulty constructing scenes for chapter three. I will find a way to get by this problem once I regained enough energy. It's really late right now, though my mind works exceptionally well during these hours. They had a name for writers like me in storywrite.com. I believe it's night owl writers. I've already considered myself as a night owl even before I discovered that.

The ideas flow every now and then, and I have to be really careful not to get off my original plot. The whole purpose of writing this story will be pointless if I get sidetracked for even the slightest detail in the scene. It was a good thing that I had my friend from America read the chapters. He pointed out obvious errors that I needed to revise, though revising at this moment would be a bad idea. It will throw off my momentum. I just made notes of it so I won't forget. I should have just asked him from the beginning to save myself the trouble.

Managing writer's block is not easy, but it's possible to overcome. I'd like to think of it as mind over matter. I just disregarded what's keeping me from writing and just wrote until no ideas were left. Then I took bits and pieces out and tied the rest together. Clustering also helps, but I prefer daydreaming. So finally my writer's block has been unblocked.

Post Secret

Not As Easy Anymore

I've been having difficulty finding the will to write my novel. I'm guessing it's because I have so much free time now. I read a book on creative writing and a chapter that discusses writer's habits got my attention.

According to the book, writer's have different writing habits and they sometimes can't just write even if they feel like it. An example would be mine.

I realized that the pressure of lack of time helps me think clearer. I had classes during the day, and lots of piled up homework and notes that needed to be reviewed for pop quizzes. These things compel me to make use of my limited time to write. That's how I was able to write more than 8,000 words of the book.

It's just a start but it's a big leap for me. I can't remember the last time that I've even made it to 2,000 words. The whole idea just dies by the time I've written about 1,700 words.

So I'm thinking my two weeks vacation isn't really going to help me finish the first two chapters of my novel. But I've thought of a way to get by that. I need to keep myself busy, like finish that book on creative writing.

It might or might not help me, but it's the only thing that would keep my mind on the story. I need to think a lot to keep my brain creatively active.

So that's my plan. I just hope I can stick to it.

Safe

I kept looking over my shoulder, always thinking that someone might suddenly sneak up on me and take my stuff, or worse. I'm not as cautious during the day though. It's unlikely someone would sneak up on anyone with a number of audiences ready to point their fingers.

But this time it was different. The sun was gone and there isn't much light on the street. It takes less than ten minutes reach my house. I should be one of those smart people and get a ride home, but I didn't see the need for it. I wanted to walk home. It helps me think.

It wasn't the wisest decision though--not for someone as vulnerable as me. I could easily disappear on the street for a brief moment, if anyone dared to take me. But somehow I felt brave and strong, and like most stupid girls, I ignored the danger.

As I reached halfway home, the street grew quiet. Another glance over my shoulder and I caught sight of the pending danger approaching. There was a silhouette following behind me. He was three times bigger than I was, and was strong enough to suppress my cry if I decided to fight back.

My pace quickened, hoping to quickly reach the safety of the light from the church ahead. But I couldn't walk as fast. The ground was muddy and my vision could not see well in the dark. I was afraid I might fall into one of the holes that was supposed to cover the canals. But I made it.

I didn't bother looking back. I went through the shortcut by the church, until I reached the houses. Luckily people were still awake, pacing in front of their houses, enjoying the cool night air.

I slowed down, knowing that the danger was gone. I smiled thinking that it was probably nothing. I was just paranoid. There wasn't any real danger, but I was just being cautious.

When I reached my house. I let myself fall on the couch, letting out a deep sigh. I'm home now, and I'm safe.

Inescapable

I've dwelt into so many thoughts in my head, not really knowing what I'm searching for. An unknown question continues to linger as it drains everything from me, causing me endless longing for something I cannot attain from this world.

The dark path I'm heading seems safer than the easy one. The dark and difficult path is the right place to walk on to. The right way; the one that is not truly pleasing and beautiful. But the wrong path pleases your eyes like a shiny red fruit--luscious yet poisonous. It is very much...inviting. Nonetheless this beautiful path leads to death quicker.

This longing grows stronger by the day, and as each minute passes I feel myself slipping away--becoming more...empty. The hole in my chest grows wider, and it takes everything to fill in what's missing, but none would fit. Nothing will fill that hole--nothing in this world, that is.

The missing piece is known, but the search for it is endless. My last breath, if life has been lived righteously, shall open the gates to contentment. The endless happiness will welcome me with open arms. But as time is present and age is unavoidable, the long journey on the dark path will not cease on one soul.

The world will grow divided by the two paths. A destiny within my grasp depends on the choice that will show revelations of truth. Though tongues will be twisted by crooked beliefs, the choice will not change what is written for those who goes the wrong and beautiful way.

If one breathes his last breath it will not end life itself. The birth of a new eternity will reveal after the flesh closes its eyes for the last time. This is the fate written. An inescapable truth, and time does not stay in one soul for long. Age will not be forever. The endless battle for freedom to control one's breath will only bring one closer to death.

It's Promising

I needed to stop writing for a week. I have my finals coming up. I've got a lot of good feedback from the set of people I've sent my prologue to. They boosted up my confidence, although I knew it still needs polishing, and I need to do more research.

I'm also hoping that I could keep their minds interested in the story. The message I'm trying to present in it might not be easily accepted by the audience. I also fear that they may misunderstand it, and see things the other way around. I want to avoid that.

Overall, the novel's progress seems promising. But since I have college stuff and all, I don't have that much time to write it. I still have the first chapter brewing in my head, and I am confident that the outcome will be great. I love my characters, and I hope my audience will love them too.

Drowning In Words

After I read the whole Twilight series, I decided to write a novel. I'm trying to be brave about it. I've never given much thought on writing novels again. It requires too much work. But after a week of nothing but Twilight, my brain sort of malfunctioned.

After a night of having Bella's voice in my head, my mind decided to narrate everything I did. I couldn't control it. It was disturbing. I never thought that Twilight would have such a strong effect on me. So I decided since my brain won't stop describing everything my eyes land on, I would write a novel.

I actually had a few ideas that was rotting in my files for years. I wasn't brave enough to write them. English isn't my first language, and I have difficulty describing stuff. But after reading Twilight, Stephenie made me understood what was missing in my writing style. Passion.

I don't love the art enough, so I struggle with it. But after Stephenie reminded me the beauty of the written world, I fell in love it. I was able to appreciate it more, and I was thankful that I was given this gift to express my thoughts and ideas.

I love Stephenie Meyer's writing style. I wish I could personally thank her.

Aniah, Aniah, Aniah

My name doesn't stand out as much anymore. I feel like every time I google my name, the number of Aniah's on earth increases. This shouldn't really affect me, but I find it a bit irritating, because I'm used to being told that I have an interesting name--unique.

I went to the school library, and when the librarian saw my ID she said: "She has the same name as my baby girl." Then I thought she probably got the idea from my name. So far, I'm the only girl there with the name Aniah. Then I checked out friendster and facebook. Aniah's are everywhere.

I want to stand out somehow. I figured it helps that my name isn't so common--well not anymore. It sounds silly, but I feel like I've been robbed or something. It's not really identity theft, a lot of people have the same names, but I'm still disappointed.

I feel like I'm being a baby at the moment. I guess I just have to look at this at a different perspective. I just have to figure out what that perspective is. I mean, I surely don't want to hate every Aniah's out there, that would be really ridiculous and stupid. For now, I would just have to accept this change. I mean, it's not like it's a bad thing--as long as it doesn't become a hooker name--or any other name type that would stain it--then I'm okay with it for now.

Unexpected Twilight Fan

I should be studying right now. But I can't keep my mind focused. Every time I try to read from my textbook, the words seem to dissolve, and my mind would play from one thought to another. My thoughts had a specific subject though. It's about Stephenie Meyer's Twilight Saga.

Yes, I admit. I've become one of her victims, captivated and consumed by her vampire story. I shouldn't be open to the subject at all--about vampires I mean--but my curiosity emerged after I've finished reading Breaking Dawn. I'm not allowed to entertain such thoughts knowing the consequences they hold, but I couldn't help being mesmerized by the way the author painted the characters. They seem so real.

They are probably more real to Stephenie. But what amazes me about her
is her ability to make the rest of us believe it too. I never understood Bella in the movie. It was probably because I couldn't really see through her point of view. But when I read the first book I finally get her, and I felt myself feeling everything she felt almost as if I was her. Silly isn't it? But who wouldn't want to be in her place, knowing how Edward felt about her? Such love could only exist in a girl's fantasies--in a fairy tale she had dreamed from childhood. A prince, sweeping her off her feet, breathless. And even more, this prince, an immortal who is strong and overprotective, and unquestionably romantic--not to mention gorgeous-- is madly in love with his princess. The perfect man, who is unfortunately not human. A vampire, a myth. Such a perfect man could not exist in this world. But how lucky for Bella to have someone like him.

Stephenie's words in Twilight was as clear as a painting. I experienced a moment when I was only seeing scenes rather than words. It's an amazing experience. I wasn't surprised that I was instantly addicted. I love reading good books, but this was even better. I've never read such a clear description of everything. I didn't even need to use my imagination to fill in the details. It’s like she experienced the whole thing and just recorded every moment.

Then came the part when I finished the story. Every scene played in my head like I was watching a movie over and over. I was consumed by it's entirety--the story, the romance, the characters, the scenes--it was enough to keep me away from reality. I knew I wasn't contented by the ending, I wanted more from it--I wanted to know what happens next. Surely other readers weren't really satisfied with 'they lived happily ever after'. Bella and Edward have forever and I wish the story would continue to that--though I know that's unlikely.

To have forever. This thought played in my head, and I was suddenly envious. Who wouldn’t want forever with someone they loved? Better yet, who wouldn't want forever with someone like Edward? To be taken care of by someone so madly in love with you, knowing within yourself how too good he is for you, is simply a piece of heaven on earth. I've never seen how truly beautiful love is until I read this story. In my mind I couldn't help but wish to experience that kind of love too. But as humans we have our flaws, and such love stories only exists in our minds and in books.

Forever. I thought. How I wish time doesn’t exist. Twilight seemed to have made me hopeful, but I know better, yet I don't seem to listen to my own reasoning. The love I have for this story is unbelievably insane for me. I never wanted to entertain such unreal thoughts, but I knew from the moment I read the book that there was no way for me to turn back.

I usually find myself sighing, more deeply than necessary. I imagine myself being part of the story. Being part of Bella and Edward's world--not as Bella of course,as some girls might wish, but as a friend of theirs who's in on the adventure. I sometimes catch myself smiling foolishly at these thoughts. It reminded me how unhealthy for my mind to welcome such fantasies, but I felt happy in them, almost content--if only they were real.

I'm a little anxious though. I'm not really sure how this will go for me--to what extent this will affect me. I can't really say that I'm relieved to know that I'm not the only one who wishes to exist in this fictional world, but for now this seems safe. I don't think I'm crossing any lines--I don't think I'm insane yet. So maybe it's okay, to let Twilight get to me. Maybe it's okay to dream of such characters. But that's only a maybe. I guess controlling my thoughts is entirely up to me. Wish me luck with that.