Author: tragicpete

not really InMon

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It seems that “mindstorm” is rather popular and I feel compelled to participate, though I wrote this many years ago, so this doesn’t really count, but it goes well and I wanted to share it.

In the distant years to come, a man overwhelmed with his emotions will look up to the sky, and whisper to himself in speculation;
“Is it the weather that affects ones emotions, or a gathering of feelings that influences the sun and the rain?”
Although he will be deep in sorrow, and pain, and anger, and hate, the sun will shine the brighter and the calm breeze will gently carry the soft clouds across the delicate blue sky. So he will come to the conclusion that it is not the dreary weather that makes him sad, but his sadness that brings the dark clouds. Yet in all his sadness, the storm will not come. He will think the sky is too far away to hear his cry of pain, his mass of anger is too deep within to be seen by the rays of the sun, and his hate too great to be tamed by the blue sky.
He will desire to be rid of his inner pain, and in his wanting to cast it out, he shall venture close to the heavens where the wind will touch his feelings, and know which clouds to bring. So he shall obtain a great basket and set upon it a giant balloon to lift him off the ground. And he will sit in the basket and ride it as the balloon carries him up into the heights where the air is cold.
He shall float amongst the clouds and plea for them to envelope his sorrow with joy. He will ride the wind and request it to blow away his pain and replace it with peace. He shall absorb the sunlight and beg it to shine through him, gaze upon his anger, and melt it into calmness. He will be roofed by the sky so blue, and shout at it to cover his hate with love. Then he shall sit and wait for the weather to take away his unwanted emotions and turn them into feelings of good. But in all his asking, they will not respond to him. The clouds, and the wind, and the sun, and the sky will do nothing to change him, and he will not know how to change them.
So he will weep in failure, and try not again. And his terrible emotions will consume him and bring him to utter turmoil. Then the sky, and all contained within it, shall be disturbed by his outcry. His deep sorrow will become dark clouds around him. His pain will burst forth from him and strike down and pierce the sky as lightning. His cries will howl as fierce winds of a tempest. His anger and hate shall roar and shake the ground as great thunder. His tears will pour from his eyes and rain down a monsoon of grief. At last he will spill his dreadful feelings, release his burden of emotions, and be a calm, peaceful break in the center of his devastating storm. With his wrath escaped, he will bring upon others a taste of what was his inner turbulence, to remind them of how much they miss the sky of a beautiful day. And he will no longer be human, weighed down with feelings, troubled with the things of mankind. No longer be called man, but thereafter be named Hurricane.

Daddy, I want one of those.

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Everybody wishes they had one.

Many devote time to thinking about one.

It’s impossible to get one.

Unless you’re fictional!

What is it?

A soundtrack to life.

 

Yes, many of us have certain favorite songs that we wish would play during certain events or situations or circumstances, whether good, bad, ugly, or just neutral. Some have one song or a handful of songs that even sum up their entire existence. Music is an important element to everyone’s lives, and one doesn’t have to be a musician to enjoy or appreciate it. We can’t actually have one, and an iPod hanging from your ears does not count, but why not give one to your most prominent characters?

 

Listen more, write better:

While you’re sitting there, trying to think of decent words, listen to the kind of music that best fits the book or scene you’re writing.
Start with the genre of music that feels right with the genre of your story. I use classical for ye olde fantasy, and various modern rock groups for my sci-fi adventure. Think of what would most likely be playing in the background if your book were a movie. Narrow that down to the particular style/era, and find groups you like that play it. If your story is historical fiction, pick music from the decade in which it takes place. To go further into it, pick specific songs by those groups that may describe events or feelings pertaining to your writing. I have a playlist of about 50 songs with lyrics that actually sum up the entire plot of my book, and I did it on accident, or at least, subconsciously.

The music you choose could help shape your story, give you lots of ideas from cool phrases that stand out or lines you never paid much attention to before. The least it can do is help you get in the mood for what you’re about to write. Music is full of rhythm and flow and interesting transitions—exactly what a good book needs to be a great book.

This is what I do; it’s an essential part of my writing process that gives me excellent results. It could work for you.

However, if you are among the rare persons who need absolute silence while writing, then why did you read this post?

This means you

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Everybody, especially those new to this blog, I strongly recommend finding time here and there to go back and read all the non-InMon posts, to benefit from the advice and to get a better understanding of what our purpose is here. There are rules and there are suggestions. Advice does not have to be taken (but usually should be), and rules should never be broken until you know and fully understand them.  Without understanding the rules breaking them is just bad writing. Once you know the reason behind the rules, break them when appropriate, and never let suggestions write your stuff for you. If you take all advice completely literal, you will lose your style and your voice. Write what you write, but be smart about it, and make it the best possible.

Read the whole blog, it does a body (of work) good.

Go Ahead, pull your Finger

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Musicians do it, so should we.

Snap, crackle, pop. It is important to properly maintain your tools regularly. Whether one writes with a pen(cil) or a keyboard, we must all take care of our hands. Some people think popping knuckles is bad for you, some are just uncomfortable doing it.

Do it anyway.

Chiropractors pop necks, backs, elbows, ankles, and all other joints, and you pay them for it. Writing for hours can be a big strain on the hands and fingers. Once my fingers got stuck in the pencil-grip position for several minutes after. It could happen to you. 

Pop your knuckles

Stretch your fingers

Bend them behind the hand

Pull them gently out from your hand to extend them all the way from your wrist

Bend your wrists back

Bend your thumbs back

Extend your fingers in a wide stretch then bend them like claws, repeat that a lot.

Play with chinese medacine balls (they’re the little metal ones that jingle); this is for dexterity.

Put a rubber band around your fingers and thumb and move them in and out repeatedly to create and release tension in the band; this is for strength and stretching.

Massage your hands

Do the Mr. Miagi rub together for warming up.

Do these before/during/after long writing sessions and your hands and fingers with be happy and crampless.

Don’t let your hands get like this.

That is all.

The New Kid

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Good day to you all. I am Tragic Pete. I will be assisting bekind with this blog, posting various tips, as well as a few of my own pieces of writing on occasion. Below is my most recent random thing; a sample, an introduction.

 

All the bits and pieces of the earth collide, combine, tear apart and reconnect repeatedly and continuously forming new and different bits out of the same elements. New grows old and becomes new again, disintegrate, rearrange, and converge into a bit that was not there before and yet has always been. All that I am in contact with becomes me, and I a part of it. I walk on the floor, I sit in a chair, I wear clothes and yet am naked, for my skin touches the cloth, the cloth touches the chair, the chair touches the floor and the floor is the ground where the earth is kept neatly out of sight. Everything touches everything else, molecules brush up against others that are not the same, but opposites attract and hold on to communicate what could be accomplished if electrons make the effort to produce and reproduce in a consummation of elemental harmony. I am therefore out of my body and into the earth. I am the wood of my desk, I am the circuits in the screen that displays words that are the fruit of my labor, my life’s work, an accomplishment of my brain to my fingers to the keys to the light that beams from the screen to my eyes that tell my brain I have written this, for here it is. I am what I write,what I write is what you read, what you read becomes a part of you. I am you.