Promoting Creativity: A Monthly Blog Series

And I’m back with another Promoting Creativity! 😀 I started this blog series just a bit ago, in the hopes of being able to promote fellow writers, dreamers and creators.  This time I have a wonderful fellow writer and artist, Abby

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1) Tell us a little bit about what you do. 

I am a high school student, a history enthusiast, a boxer, a writer, and sometimes a freelance graphic designer. Unfortunately, the first item on this list of titles has tended to engulf and starve the latter occupations almost to non-existence – but as they have still somehow managed to survive, I will attempt to describe my involvement with them. As a history enthusiast, I strive to seek the humanity in the darkest times; I strive to analyse current events through the pattern of past events. As a boxer, I strive to seek the limits of my spirit and stamina. Boxing is a beautiful sport: almost an art, but an art laced with savagery, pain and sweat. It’s not very pretty, but I write about it. As a writer, I can barely call myself a writer. I write infrequently: a few times per week at best. My novels are sad, undernourished children and my blog is rarely updated; my journals and poetry books receive slightly more attention. Regardless of these disappointing facts, I can never seem to completely let go of creative writing, for it has kept me alive. Finally, as an occasional freelance graphic designer, I am pursuing new opportunities. I am currently involved in some profitable business card ventures, (which require terrifying adult things such as invoices) but I also do some private blog design on the side.

2) When and why did you start writing? 

I do not remember when I began writing stories, but I have been writing in general since I was about four years old. Some of my first stories were something akin to fanfiction – mostly for the Redwall fantasy series. This would have been when I was close to seven years old, but I had been spinning stories in my head for much longer than that. From the beginning of my memory, I remember telling stories to myself. My sister used to read to me often when I was quite young, which instilled in me a passion for books. However, my brothers and sisters were all much older than me, and I was often alone inside of my head. This gave rise to the stories: stories of dragons, of faeries, of talking squirrels and rabbits and female kings and firebirds. I wanted to be a novelist for most of my childhood, but this dream began to wither as I entered adolescence and was replaced with more things more realistic and terrifying, such as “lawyer”, “history professor”, “economist”. “politician”, and “public policy analyst”. There is still a little flame in the dark recesses of my heart that would like to write novels.

3) Tell us about a project that you are currently working on that has you really excited.

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You Can’t Win is a novel about a boy named Ivar. He is a Russian, an immigrant to NYC, an idealist, an inhabitant of the year 1989, and he is a boxer. I speak from through his mind of his experiences, of his little crew of club fighters, of the lights and hard canvas and taped hands and dried blood.

The pain rose to the edge of my skin, in the cracks and in the bruises. My vision was clearing, but my head was swelling with rage and sadness and there was blood on my eyes. I hoped that it was his blood, but I was probably wrong; I usually was. I usually am. I thought that my heart was filled with pieces of broken glass, and my lungs with water, and my gut with stones. But the stones had been his fists. It was the third fight that I had ever fought. [chapter 1]

Ivar wants to win with something because he has been broken down again and again. He pushes himself almost to the point of existential collapse, and it is here that he meets Jesus. I also have 50,000 from 2013 somewhere about a ghost on his post-kicked bucket list adventure, and I have considered writing about an undertaker who gets caught selling organs on the black market. Some more vague aesthetic clouds of stories like to float across my head, but lately my ability to write has taken up a hunger strike due to densely packed life schedules and paralyzing writer’s block. However, I have managed to write a slim volume of poetry this year and I am on to the next.
4) What are some of your goals for the future? 
My short-term goals are currently to survive this term and study the passion week of Christ of the four gospels. My mid-term goals are to train for fights and apply to universities. But my long-term goals? God knows; I definitely do not. I cannot see what lies ahead, but I know that it is likely to involve words, fists, and history. I suppose I could say that my goal is to find my goal.
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5) How can we support you? 
Pray for me, if you have the time. Thank you.
And don’t forget to follow Abby on social media! Her blog, tumblr, deviantart, and pinterest

Why I Write

sometimes words on paper are more natural than spoken

sometimes i feel but can’t explain

and that is why i write

 

sometimes i see humanity in small corners

sometimes i find broken bodies

and that is why i write

 

sometimes my heart breaks

sometimes my heart bursts

and that is why i write

 

sometimes the day is sunny

sometimes the earth is singing

and that is why i write

 

sometimes i’m thinking about him

sometimes i’m thinking about life

and that is why i write

 

sometimes i am dead

sometimes i am alive

and that is why i write

 

sometimes i can’t think

sometimes the words don’t come

and that is why i write

 

sometimes life just is

sometimes life sparkles

and that is why i write.

Happy Thanksgiving

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Sorry I didn’t post yesterday, but I was busy. I hope everyone had a wonderful Thanksgiving. 🙂

I had a lovely Thanksgiving with Grant’s family. And I will be going to my family’s on Sunday.

I just wanted to write a quick post and tell you all how thankful I am to have you reading my blog, commenting, liking and all that jazz. I really enjoy writing on this blog, and I’m thankful that you seem to enjoy reading it. 😀

Happy Thanksgiving to everyone.

NaNoWriMo Pep Talk

That’s right, a pep talk written by yours truly. 😀  And without further ado, here it is.

I’ve spent the last week trying to prepare for this, because I’m a perfectionist. I keep asking myself what do I want from a pep talk, what’s some advice I haven’t been given yet?

This is the 7th time I’ve done Nanowrimo, and only the third time I’ve won. I’ve read a lot of really good pep talks over the years. And so I guess today I’m not going to be able to say anything new, or even something super enlightening.  I’m just going reiterate something that I need to hear.

 

It’s okay for your Nano novel to be complete and utter crap. November isn’t the month for perfection. You can edit in the weeks after, or in next few months, or even next year.  Now is not that time.  Today you just need to write.

And don’t feel bad about what you’ve written.  Don’t compare your novel to the person whose blog you’re reading whose story and characters are coming along beautifully.  Your story is going to be okay. Your characters are fabulous.

Don’t compare your wordcount with the person who finished Nano on week 2.  Your word count, no matter if it’s 1,456 or 40,999 or whatever, is AMAZING.   
You are writing words to a story.  You are doing your best to complete this challenge. You are amazing.

 

There’s only five more days left of NaNoWriMo.  You can do this.  You can write to 50,000 words. And even if you don’t make it to the complete goal, don’t beat yourself up about it.  Relax, enjoy your story. Have fun.  That’s the real point of this month. 🙂

How are you doing this Nano? Tell me about your favorite part or character, I’d love to hear all about your fabulous novel. 🙂 

Such A Secret Place – A Review

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Goodreads Synopsis: When sixteen-year-old Ambry Csille’s brother gets taken in a raid, her utter fear and panic should be enough to invoke tears in any normal world. But for Ambry, tears are a thing of the past.

Because of a spell, people can no longer feel emotion; not enough to cry, and definitely not enough to defend themselves against the tyrannical soldiers stealing her people’s magic. A rare vial of enchanted tears chooses Ambry to reverse the spell, and soon she finds herself the target not only of the Arcaians, but of battle-scarred Talon Haraway, who wants the tears for his own reasons.

All Ambry wants is to rescue her brother, but when her tears get stolen, Ambry determines to work with Talon to get them back. Any day the Arcaians could drink her tears. Any day they’ll succeed at draining her people’s magic completely, and all hope will be gone—not only for her brother, but for her world.

Find on Amazon and Goodreads:

My Thoughts: I stopped reading this after I got to the 25% mark. This isn’t a bad book, I just found it boring and confusing. I felt like the plot was really jumpy, going here and there without explaining the world. And I had no interest in the main character. Honestly I think that this could have been a very unique and interesting book, but when it came to actually reading it the main idea of the book was lost.
I wish I could give this a better review.

Body Hate

  1. I Shout

there’s nothing wrong with you

i whisper

to my my face that’s fat and full of acne

there’s nothing wrong with you

i whisper

to my curvy stretch marked thighs

there’s nothing wrong with you

i tell my stomach

just because you’re bigger than what i want

doesn’t mean you’re bad

there’s nothing wrong with you

i whisper

to my boobs that also have stretch marks

there’s nothing wrong with you

i shout to my body in the mirror

i’ve spent too long hating you.

I wrote this poem just minutes ago after reading a friend’s blog post.  Like so many others in this world, I look at my body and dislike my body.  And when I say dislike I mean I loath it, hate it. I’ve never felt comfortable in it. I don’t like looking at myself in the mirror.  Usually I all I can see is the fat that needs to be lost, the acne that needs to be cleaned, or the stretch marks that I wish were gone.

But enough negativity. That’s not what this post is about.

As I said earlier I read a post today about someone else’s struggle with body hate issues and I cried. I cried for myself. And for the hate that I’ve placed on myself.

Today for the first time in a long time, too long to actually remember, I looked at myself naked in the mirror and tried to love what I saw. And I think it was a little easier.

This isn’t to say that I didn’t see my imperfections.  I did walk away thinking: “I need to care for myself better. I need to eat better. I need to exercise more.”
But I didn’t shy away from what I look like.

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