A Writers Tale

Day 12 Take the first line of your favorite novel. Remove and replace the nouns and verbs, and write a story that begins with your new line. Delete the first line. "The alchemist picked up a book that someone in the caravan had bought. " The alchemist traced his fingers over a book that someone in the caravan had hidden under the supplies. How foolish of that young traveller, the alchemist thought; to hide such valuable books in obscure places and assume nobody would find them... Or did the alchemist have it wrong? Maybe this is exactly what was meant to happen... The soul of the universe communicates in such ineffable ways, and the alchemist was more than aware of the nature of existence. The leather bound cover was in amazing condition, the gold laced over the cover conveyed an intricate pattern and symbols completely unbeknownst to the alchemist… A feeling of familiarity washed over him as he traced the cover, he recognised these symbols but he couldn't re

Day 11 You are now a dragon. Describe your hoard. Deep under the ocean surface I can be found, Guarding the tunnels of which lead to my mound, A mound of treasure, I speak of, you know, A mountain of precious gems, silver and gold. Let it be known there lies a deeper treasure than this, For the trinkets and shiny things may look most valuable to thee, But there is something much more precious to me, Deep within my hoard you see, lies my kindred, armoured eggs, a three. If one were to try swim to invade, I would snap at them with my gnarly teeth, For how dare they try to loot my keep! This is why I nest down in the deepest caverns of the sea, For there are not many who dare to venture so deep! Lucky for me, I have evolved like so, Many on the surface, know not what goes on below. They think me dead, they think me a myth, Just wait 'til my babies and I  are unleashed! We shall soar the skies once more, just wait and see... Until then believe not in me,

So, I'm losing my passion for writing. I don't feel any desire whatsoever to write so instead of doing the challenge I think I just need to write about what I know and what I know is that right now, I don't feel like I can write about anything rather than this. Lunar ran out today, she has yet to return. I am slightly worried because we're right next to a train track, hopefully she's street smart enough to make it home. I don't know if it's the cannabis and alcohol from last night speaking but I feel pretty damn... dampened? like my fire has been put out... I almost want to conjure up more fire by blaming everyone but nobody is responsible for my irresponsibility with fire. It saddens me what is happening in Brazil... my grandad has informed me that apparently the amazon rainforest provides 5% of the oxygen in our atmosphere. Only a matter f time before the norm on this planet is to walk around with a gas mask and to live in an oxygenated base, li

So today my challenge is to write as if I am a dragon and I am describing my Hoard. To be honest, I'm not feeling up for this challenge today and feel like I should give it more thought. Even so, I wanted to still make sure I write something. I have not flunked on today, I just need to take some time out for myself as I started a new job this week and it is taking me a while to adapt to my new routine and to get my writing in as wholey as I can. In other news, I thought it was absolutely uncanny that todays challenge was dragon related... I swear to god when I wrote yesterdays challenge I did not even bother reading the challenge for day 11 it was just the only mythical creature I could see realism in and so chose to write about it. I quite enjoyed that challenge! Anyhow, for anyone reading this; I hope you have an absolutely beautiful evening and I will see you tomorrow... or you will see me... whichever. Ciao :D

Day 10 Try to convince your reader that the mythological creature of your choosing exists. Why is it that in so many cultures... Chinese, Welsh, Indian, Japanese... there is this recognition of dragons? Where did the idea for the dragon even come from?  I often wonder this. When you look at the 12 zodiac animals within the Chinese culture... 11 are known, real, recognised animals... But then... there is the dragon sign... Unless they're referring to those little bearded dragons you can get as pets but they're hardly something to celebrate every year for a new years party... maybe the bearded dragons are all that remains of the original dragons... but over the years they've genetically evolved to be smaller, for whatever reason. Why,  in Wales have we decided to put a red dragon on our flag? Who came up with this design and what were they thinking? Something must have inspired this image of the dragon! On top of this there is evidence that even the ancient Greeks

Day 9 Turn a Tweet into a haiku . So... I'm not a Twitter-er and as such I have no clue who or what or where to find such things as "tweets". BUT  I can develop an understanding of what a Haiku poem is. Traditional Haiku Structure The structure of a traditional haiku is always the same, including the following features: There are only three lines, totaling 17 syllables. The first line is 5 syllables. The second line is 7 syllables. The third line is 5 syllables like the first. Punctuation and capitalization are up to the poet, and need not follow the rigid rules used in structuring sentences. A haiku does not have to rhyme, in fact usually it does not rhyme at all. It can include the repetition of words or sounds Five syl-a-bles makes The first line of a haiku. Poetry varies. I do not twitter, It does not do much for me, No need to twitter. First, five syllables, Second, I type seven more, Then another five! Beau

Day 8 Take a nondescript sentence such as, "How are you?" Write the same line from at least five different points of view. "How are you?" You alright?  How are you feeling? Are you good? Are you okay? How do you feel today? Is everything okay? "What do you think?" Share your thoughts. Where does your mind wander? What is your opinion on the matter? Penny for your thoughts. He exchanged a confused glance as if requiring explanation/ What is on your mind? Where does that thought train go? Edit: I misunderstood what was meant by point of view "What do you think?" "What does he think?" "Where did her mind wander?" "What did I think?" "What were they thinking?" "What is on your mind?" Taken from: 30 Day Writing Challenge

Week 1 Write a poem, style of which... you decide! Able to Create a way of Remembering Other Sorts and Types of Incredible Creations, Patterns Of which Every Thought is Rhythmically Yours to remember To be Happy As Never Known Yet to be Overly Understanding Taken from: The 52-Week Challenge Different types of poems

Day 7 Spoil the ending of your favourite movie without any context. And just like that, the last mortal man on Earth drew his last breath, with the entirety of the immortal new world watching on the big screen.  This is the precise moment where time began to reverse.  The Big Crunch. Nemo Nobody's eyes open once again, everyone and everything around him is happening backwards. He met this backwards nature of time with so much joy and understanding..  A smile overtook his face and a hard, choppy yet contagious laughter followed.  "Here we go again!" Taken from: 30 Day Writing Challenge

Day 6 Think of your favourite food. Try to make it sound as disgusting as possible. Forced to eat this godforsaken meal yet again.  Who ever decided to mix all these saucy ingredients all together in one dish was an absolute imbecile, it just seems to melt on a plate... A sad excuse for a meal! That blend of acidic, garlic-y, tomato sauce and mince meat... Such a disgusting mix. It just ends up being a chewy gooey pile upon your plate and don't get me started on the mushrooms! Who the heck decided to pick a fungus and cut it up and eat it! It's like chewing on slugs for god sake! As if it couldn't get any worse the Italians were silly enough to make sheets of pasta! As if pasta wasn't annoying enough to eat in the first place, with it's chewy and chalky texture... it doesn't even taste of anything! Blech! Why anyone would cook with pasta, I will never know... what a way to ruin a perfectly good mixture of ingredients!  This brings me to m

Day 5 The last liquid you drank has turned your protagonist into a superhero. What do your character's new powers allow him or her to do? Many of Sana's friends wondered why she never came out on the weekends when they invited her. They had all imagined her to be the type to order 'whisky on the rocks' by pushing ahead of a queue and shouting across a busy bar, nonchalantly. They imagined her to be the sort to shamelessly flirt with those mildly threatening, yet ruggedly handsome biker men playing pool at the pool table that nobody was ever able to play at because they always seemed to hog it. She seemed like the type of individual who would add fire to any evening and make it just that little bit more exciting than a standard night on the town. But the truth is, Sana couldn't drink alcohol... one drop of it did horrific things to her. Now, I am not talking the usual horrific, alcohol-induced type of thing; like turning into a blithering idiot falling ov

Day 4 Imagine that your protagonist has just turned into a statue. Describe his or her thoughts. Have you ever wondered how it would feel to be a statue? Maybe your first thoughts lead towards the horror of not being able to move or maybe you take a more comical stance at the thought of suffering an itchy arse and being hopeless to scratch it, pure torture... Absolutely petrifying. A statue. A solid, inanimate, unchanging structure. Completely devoid of movement and feeling. In the middle of the abandoned building stuck with its arms mid-wave in the air, like a crazed chimpanzee protecting a young-ling; was the Statue of Sana. Her feet were firmly glued and grounded on the rocky surface that she stood upon and her face was stuck with an expression conveying complete confusion, one brow furrowed the other slightly up from it’s usual place. Her mouth was open and curved down as if she had been mid-way saying, ‘What the f***!’ at the time that the stoney illness first began

Day 3 Now send your character to his or her grumpy grandmother's house for a visit. Write the scene of your character's arrival. Sana glanced out of the car window at the blurred forestry on her way to Granny Dot’s home that afternoon. Family duty was one of the most tedious lifestyle necessities in her opinion, but yet here she was, on her way to her demented grandmothers home like a good little red-riding hood. She didn’t very much like people, granny was no exception to that  rule . All humans were pretty much the same from Sana’s point of view, we all bleed, shit, cry and we’re all so darn needy. The last time Sana had seen her grandmother, she had been force fed tea cakes and jammy dodgers by the thousands, she had been made to sit on the old net curtain style sofa chair, sipping at a china cat mug of tea and feigning interest at Granny’s absolute shock that her good friend Dorris had fallen down the stairs and broke her fragile little old lady hips, resulting in 5 we

Day 2 Think of three people in your life. Give your character the hair and laugh of person 1, the face and bedroom of person 2, and the wardrobe and mannerisms of person 3. This is your new protagonist. Feel free to give him or her any other characteristics you'd like. Give us an idea of who your character is by describing only the first 60 seconds of the character's day. Sana spent the first 10 minutes of her morning fading in and out of consciousness. Restlessly repositioning herself in search of comfort. She spent a further 10 minutes with her eyes closed, contemplating her steps to get out of bed. As this was the ultimate chore for her. When she finally opened her eyes she realised she was lying on her bed upside down… She had always been the fidgety type, never being able to stay comfortable in one place for too long, this was no exception in her sleep. Sana had once woken up, her head on the floor with her body draped from the bed like a sock on a washing

Day 1 Take us through a written walk down your street and to your favorite place through the eyes of somebody else. starting from the train station down the ramp, across the road, up the path, bench to left, another ramp to train station on the left hand side, bushes at the right hand side next to the path, further up the path, traffic lights, cross the road, over the windy bridge, into town, turn right walk along the one way road, to my left across the road is a shop that sells stoves, a café, a shop which sells holidays but never seems to be open, turning left, to the left bernados, to the right a nice little area to sit down, 3 benches in a curved area surrounded by scenic bushes and trees strategically placed in half an arc, up the road I walk, past an empty shop with a smashed front window, it has been like that for years, to the left a tunnel towards the town market. forward I plunder past some optician, mannequins with glasses all staring ominously out of the window

So it has been roughly 4 months since that beautiful day of clarity. The day of decision! I remember being sat around, constantly weighed down by the thoughts of what I should be doing with my life. I remember thinking... "I need to stop trailing around blindly, what the hell am I going to do with my life... I can't live in customer service jobs 'til the end of my days." I remember racking my brain over this very complex decision to move forward for quite some time, with quite a lot of intense contemplation. Squinting my face like a baby passing stool, in concentration of what the heck I should be doing. I remember feeling every single one of my cogs spinning around and around in my head, as I attempted to solve this very difficult equation. As you can imagine, that moment of eureka was an experience I welcomed with open arms. All of a sudden it was so infallibly clear, I should take the route of THE INFAMOUS WRITER! (After-all, given my thirst for knowle