Why I Can't Write... And Why I Do

Heavy Title, isn't it? But the truth's the truth.

I can't write.

I have ideas all the time. They plague my dreams. I get up in the morning and, furiously brushing my teeth, try to fix the details in my mind. The stranger, the more surreal, the better. I've had dreams that I'm scared of, about murderers and repressive societies that kill non-conformers. And I think, 'What a great idea!'. But I never remember too much. So sometimes my ideas are little gems; but I've never found the nugget or vein I'm looking for. Very, very rarely, I try to put several little gems together, to get one big pretty piece of jewelry, and then stick it together with some random glue, like new characters or convoluted relationships.

I work on my stories a lot, but never enough. When one's half-done, I switch to a newer, more exciting idea. I sometimes wonder if I'll ever finish a story. I guess I'll never know.

Okay, that's not completely true. I did complete a story once. Or twice.

A fanfiction, about Detective School Q and CLAMP School, was my first completed fic ever. Also the first that I ever put up online. If you want to look over it, it's fine. But remember, this was six years ago, and it is bad. (Not that I'm not proud of my twelve-year-old's scribblings. I am.)

Linky: My First Fanfiction 

Another one, which I was in the process of submitting to a beta-reader(not a very experienced one, 'tis true), was stored on the old home desktop and seems to be lost forever. Ah, I'll always remember you, my friend.

One more, a poem, that is not worth the paper it's written on, but somehow other people disagree.(Note: The last few lines, the 'you' parts, are all serious crap. The first few ones I like.)

Linky: Here it is.

Then there was the fanfiction I'll probably take to my grave. It was probably my best work so far, and I even thought of several alternate endings for it, but I was too embarrassed to put it up anywhere, or, heck, let anyone see it. FMEO. For my eyes only.

My last novel attempt. That one I'm genuinely proud of. But it's incomplete and not well-thought-out, and I want to improve it. I want people to read it---I... I...

I just had the most amazing idea! Thanks, people, you rock!! A kidnapping attempt is just what it needed!!

*heart* This is gonna be great, I enthuse in my mind, thinking of it even as my mom shouts for me in the background. I won't stop thinking, writing, writing, writing, until it's perfect. And then some.

And that, ladies and gentlemen, is why I write.

More updates on my uber-novel soooooon.

For now, goodbye.

BdK

PS: Hey, you! Yeah, you who I'm going to be conning into reading this blog this very afternoon! Let's have some fun! Let the MI begin!!

Christopher Paolini: Copycat! Copycat!

Eragon and Star Wars.

What have they got in common?

Oh, nothing. EXCEPT THE WHOLE PLOT.

I'm not actually kidding.

ASOIAF sjdhg

Yeah, I know. What the hell is up with that title?

Actually, it's the abbrev. of A Song Of Ice and Fire, by George R.R. Martin.

Wow, it's been a while

It really has. Ever since I came away to college, even after I bought a brand-new lappy(that's laptop to the less squeally-minded) and got a lan-cord, so I could surf--with the exception of ALL the fun sites(The IITB internet facility is designed to cater to your ACADEMIC needs!)

Day 6 of serious JulNo writing: Progress

Is it just me or is that cheery little meter filling up substantially?

I know, I know. I'm pretty awesome. Unfortunately, I'm still behind the official minimum by about 4K words. But what can you do? In my case, write more. Maybe word war. No one really wants to word war with me, I've found. Too bad. I'll just keep using WoD(Write or Die) and keep increasing my word count slowly. Meanwhile, I used the snowflake method to hash out a plot of sorts. So maybe this novel will have an eventual point after all.

*Squints*

Nope, can't see it.

BdK

JulNo Progress Report! Day 5

So this is where I am so far: for those who do not want to squint at the Write or Die meter, it's 8960 words so far. I confidently expect to write about 1.5K words more today (right after I drink my tea and check my mail/update my facebook/twitter and go on the forums to play a word game and read 'The Girl Who Kicked The Hornet's Nest' and maybe taking a little nap) :)

Not too shabby, but imnottelling, the user I've chosen to decide to beat, is a full 3K words ahead of me. I figure if I write 3K per day for the rest of the month, I'll coast into a spot ahead of him/her. So that's my plan. Also, Vrushang's agreed to join me in trying to write as many words as possible and annoy as many people around us as possible by obsessing on our novels; so let's give him a warm welcome, people!

I started this story with just one character. I made the other one up racing against the Write or Die red screen. So far, I'm thinking hard decisions, slice of life. Following your dreams? Forgiveness? And these are just the values I need to get across. Now for the actual story. Scroll down, please.

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...

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A computer geek who wants to get into a good university takes up a sort-of-job with the girl she used to idolise in high school. There, she teaches her a thing or two about life and the living. Also, this scary guy keeps showing up. End summary.

I got nothing else. Someone kill me now.

BdK

So there! I've decided(a little late, I know) to do JulNoWriMo. For those of you not familiar with it, it stands for: July Novel Writing Month. You're supposed to start on the 1st, but I've started on the 4th; and end on the 31st, with at least 50,000 words written until midnight on the last day. Things are looking good, I think, mostly because of this site- Write or Die. It's awesome. By awesome I mean it starts deleting your words if you stop writing. Cool, right? So you keep writing, and writing, and writing, and writing... well, you get the picture. So far my basic story revolves about Ria, one of my favourite characters. She's Japanese, and sweet and kind and more than a little naive. She's just inherited a lot of money, and hired a friend of hers to help her(the friend) out of her financial problems. That's what I have so far. Not bad for half a day's work, some would say. My goal is two sessions, about 45 mins each, of 1000 words each, so a total of 2000 words written every day. That would mean 27*2000 = 54000 words, a cool 4000 words above the winning word count. Yeah. That would be great.

BdK.

PS, my actual word count's : 2147 words!

Vacations!

Hey all!!

Might I be sounding full of pep to your delicate ears? Well, the ears would have it, since I've been (insert drumroll here) on vacation!

I went to Binsar. (Is proud for a moment, before someone hesitantly raises a hand and asks, 'Where?') It's this place 200 kms Northeast of Jim Corbett National Park, in the state of Uttarakhand. Oh, and for those of you not in the know, that's in India.

Now that we've got that out of the way, here's a pic:

Not that Binsar was all flowers, just most. And besides, I can't get the thing to upload any more and it's 12 o'clock, time for beddy-bye.

Good night.

IRL: Real-ness

Hey,

So this is a real life topic, something I don't usually go into.

Why?

Because: Reality's a nice place but I wouldn't want to live there :)

Just drop in to visit every once in a while. Sometimes I actually feel like I'm living underwater--which happens to be one of my favourite places. And whenever there's something important going on in real life, like an exam or result or family function, someone tosses me a line and I have to break the surface. But I can't take it very long, and I'm always anxious to get back underwater again. Back in my own world, snug and safe and surrounded by words and music.

What is my world?

I've never defined it, but it's whenever I sink so deep into a story that I forget what's real and what's not.(There I go, sounding like Leo in Inception--love that movie :))

But it's true. My world is whatever world the authors that I read, the movies that I watch, even the songs that I listen to, create. I'm safe there, because I'm the only thing living in it that can think for myself. Everyone else has a set pattern of thinking or doing that I am aware of. In a movie, it might take till the end to find out what drives a character, but you do find out at some point.

As I was writing those words, I just realised--I'm not like that. I don't really have any motivation, any real drive. Not in real life. I mean, my dream is to write and have my books read. That's true enough. But it's not a true dream, not considering where my life is going. I'm supposed to be an engineer, or a scientist, whatever it is that I finally become. But I've never woken up in the morning, the ecstasy fading as I realise that what I dreamt wasn't real, to recall the dream being where I was this great scientist. Writer, yes. Scientist, no.

((Though on a side note, I do love to teach. I've taught; well, handled a class of kindergarten students, and other imaginary classes consisting of most of my stuffed animal population, and I've loved every second. But I refuse to be a schoolteacher in this age of complete and utter disrespect for rules and ...well, you know...))

Disillusionment

Hallo, again!

Like I said in my first post on the difficulties of writing, stories I write usually go through approximately the same phases- I start out loving the idea or scene that I felt like portraying, then I write and write and hope and pray that it comes together cohesively. Since I've never written long pieces of writing, over 30 pages, anyway, I'm not always sure how to write, say, novel length stories. So I mess up. My first chapter doesn't grip the readers enough; the characters don't suggest themselves to the audience--somehow they never love them quite as much as I do--or a million other things. Maybe the way I'm writing it isn't good. Maybe I'm using flashbacks too much. Maybe I'm using them too less and incorporating stuff into the present story which I should've just left alone. I want to edit when I realise what's wrong with it, but by then I've lost interest in the idea. Or I feel that the damage done to the story is irreparable. So I take another story and continue with the cycle. Sometimes I feel like it's a normal part of writing; other times I hate myself for giving up so easily.

You just can't win.

Love,

BdK.

The Cat Barks

Hear Ye! Hear Ye!

BelltdieKatze has officially rechristened her blog 'The Cat Barks' ...um, duh.

It was about time I gave up that stupid name : Written Thoughts, you served me well. R.I.P.

I don't remember what gave me the idea of 'The Cat Barks'; or, as my username suggests, BelltdieKatze, which is the approximation in Deutsch ...actually I do ;)

Um, so, anyway, I'm hoping that people will like the banner --that I slaved most of the afternoon over(lies, lies, all lies, I barely spent ten minutes on it...)

I dunno if it's perfect, but it's good. Yeah.

Bdk

P.S. Comment on the banner, please! I need to know if I'm good or bad at making them, since this is the first time I've ever done something like it.

Ubers Ende Der Welt/Ready Set Go

I listened to Ubers Ende Der Welt(Zimmer 483 version, not single) over and over and over and over and... well, anyway, this is what I came up with, just writing what came into my mind at the time. Read at your own risk(preferably listening to Ready Set Go):

The world was collapsing but she wasn't sad to see it go. They were running, making it into some sort of absurd race that no one was going to win. But they were free.

It was a wild, exhilarating feeling, this feeling of letting go.

There was a moment, of course, when she felt like she was going to fall instead of fly, but he was right there beside her.

“Do you trust me?” His lips quirked into a smile.

“No,” she said, laughing.

But they both knew better.

They looked back. She wondered...

Then he wheeled her around, to face him and the future.

“Do you still trust me?” He asked, no smile on his face now. His face was so serious it could have been set in stone.

“I've nothing to lose.” That was true enough.

“But do you-”

“Yes.”

She knew about the abyss he was trying to save her from. But she wasn't going to fall. If she did, she'd fly sooner or later. She trusted him more than he trusted himself.

He smiled, no longer conflicted.

“Then, let's go,” he invited.

Infinity beckoned.

Life beckoned.

**

As an endnote, I'm aware that it's complete crap. Thank you for reading.

BdK

Reviews, Games and Songfic

Hey-lo!

No, this isn't me trying to be funny and put an old/new spin on the normal greeting... Thing is, there's a Tokio Hotel song called 'Hurricanes and Suns' the chorus of which basically goes 'Come pain, come hurt, see the halo, hey-hey-hey-lo, hey-hey-hey!' Yeah, I know. But I love it! Seriously, I go about singing 'hey-hey-hey-lo' at the top of my voice these days. So, this post wasn't supposed to turn into Tokio Hotel song appreciation, but it did, probably owing to me listening to that song as I type. :)

Till the sun won't shine

Till the end of time

see the halo, halo, halo!

Ahem.

Back to the title, I was surprised and shocked and amazed and a million other good things when I checked on my fanfic--the same one I was complaining about earlier. There were eight reviews!! And over a 100 reads! I could die of happiness, I really could. But, more importantly, it made me feel like wanting to write again... which I did, upto about 12, which is late for me, the early bird. I guess writing always starts out on it's own fuel, like 'this is a good idea, I'd really like to put it on paper' but then the pace slackens and you don't feel like writing more. You actually feel like your writing's crap. But reviews are just the thing to remind you that maybe you're not so bad after all :)

I wrote quite a bit compared to what I've been churning out before, which was around half-a-page of writing every time I opened the document, managing to up it to almost three pages--then I got distracted again. There was this awesome game on Newgrounds that I started playing, you see, and... The words RPG just seem to draw me in. It's actually my favourite genre of game, role-playing. Usually it involves being the hero and swinging a sword around or something like it, but this was different. Rather like the Sims, you had to build up a life for your character. Okay, so not exactly like. I mean, all you can do in the Sims is around the house(at least, as far as I got) but this game is about attending school to be smarter, smarter means more promotions-or, if you're a hitman or something, you need to work out to increase strength. So it was a little like strategy-cum-roleplay, and it got me hooked for like six hours. That was about the game.

Now, songfic! Basically, I had an idea for a story--unfortunately fanfiction--from a Tokio Hotel song. Not telling either the idea or the song, but, um... hint, hint to all the aliens out there! Now this is a problem I've only faced once or twice-- sometimes I get these ideas, visualise them completely, even think out the whys and wherefores of the characters. But I never do anything about them. Those ideas are just too good for a novice like me to try and attempt and probably fail miserably to capture. So then I thought, if just one song can give me inspiration for a fic, why not do a bunch of them? So I am. Drabbles, vignettes and short stories, 74 in all. Yes, all the songs ever performed by Tokio Hotel.

Takes a bow, then scurries off to write the one based on Spring Nicht (Don't Jump)

BdK

Writers' Pain In The Neck ...um, I Mean, Block

Do you get the feeling, when you finally have the time and energy--all the time and energy you need to write, and you stare at a blank page with nothing coming out?

Well, that has yet to happen to me. When I see a blank page, I have the urge to fill it with something, anything. It can be meaningful or crappy, parts of a story that I recently read and loved, or a song that I've always listened to; a new fiction piece, poems, or drawings. But what does happen to me--and all the more easily since I have the whole 'spaces' thing on our Mac--is that I put the document somewhere else, another space, for example, and conveniently forget about it. Oh, I don't put it out of my mind entirely--not possible since I can see the light under the OpenOffice icon telling me that document is open--but things keep coming up. I think, I'll just talk to thisone on facebook, or, I'll just update my bio over here, or whatever. I always have something constructive to do, and keep putting it off until- surprise, surprise, it's midnight and I can hardly keep my eyes open.

Right now, for example, I'm supposed to be working on a piece of fanfic that I started an eternity ago. I recently posted the first chapter up on--uh uh uh, I'm not telling you where! The point is, it's on there, and if I'm going to be updating on a regular, possibly weekly, basis, I need more than the nine chapters I've already written, because I'm already through three, and so have only six possible weeks to crank out several more chapters. I've discovered several things through this, my only piece of grown-up writing. By 'grown-up' I mean planned, with a thread and consistent characters, and--very dimly--an end in view. I work on the characterisations through small pieces that may start off as chapters but are relegated to simply being there. It turns out that great writers do not, as previously assumed, simply pour beautiful words onto paper. No, there is editing and cutting out and writing more than your reader will ever read involved. Which is great and all, but so annoying! I mean, I'll probably end up posting about 50% of what I actually write!! Therefore the procrastinating, and sighing and ranting.

Sometimes I wonder if I'll ever be any good as a writer. Then I smack myself upside the head, take a break from the computer and go get a chocolate smoothie.

Love,

BdK.

PS I think suicide threats work when asking for comments. Or maybe my brother's just lucky and people like to read what he thinks. *is pouting though you can't see her*

Comment, please? Tell me I'm not useless at writing, and I'll thank you for it.

Chemisty!! Er... Chemistry? Yes, Chemistry!

Don't get me wrong, I do like Science. A lot. I love that feeling you get when you understand some concept or other, and then apply it to some ordinary phenomenon, to discover that what you thought was so simple was actually so complex. I love it when you look at some other phenomenon, something terribly rare and complex, and realise that it was so simple to begin with. And I am addicted to the sensation of getting a sum absolutely, completely right. ((Oh, yeah, who's your girl? I am, that's who!!))

But these exams are never-ending, honestly. And to keep every little formula related to a concept in your head, to just apply it mindlessly in the paper to get into some institute or other--now, that's annoying.

Anyway, gotta go slave over another bunch of formulae to give yet another exam. *sigh*

BdK

PS, did you know surfactants use miscelle formation to clean oil and grease off of things? But only above critical concentration. Basically, they swoop into the grease, getting their lyophobic tails in it, then when there are enough to form, like a big ball, with the grease in the centre and their lyophilic heads on the surface, they just float off into the sunset together. *sigh*

Anti-Feminist Feminist? Or ..not.

Ohayou!

(It's not actually morning but that is the only Japanese greeting I remember, so... I'm pretty sure it's morning somewhere in the world!)

When I was a kid-scratch that, even now, I still read Tamora Pierce's books with the same fascination with which I picked up the first book of hers I ever read. They're well written, I truly enjoy seeing a slightly different view of knights and their training-I think the worlds she creates are perfect in their medievalness, but there is the nitty-gritty side to the whole world which most people who write for say, teens, forget to mention. Research never seems to play a part in their writings, it being more important to show the relationships between the characters. But Tamora Pierce was different. She was special. More importantly, her protagonists were all female.

Girls out there, don't you get tired of reading fantasy or historical novels in which the cool sword-swinging/magic is done by guys, while girls have to use their cunning(whatever that is) and special skills to get anywhere? Even then, I've never seen a standalone girl protagonist whom society respects, even as she swings a sword around, and never minds the boys. So I love Kel. Kel, short for Keladry of Mindelan, is the kind of girl/woman I would love to be. She has no gift(unlike Alanna, whose books were a disappointment after reading Kel's 'Protector of the Small' quartet), she's afraid of heights, and doesn't go out of the way to break society's rules. She's polite, restrained-maybe too restrained, and most importantly--she doesn't ever try to hide the fact that she's a girl. She flaunts it, even. And this is what I think puts her above Alanna in my 'Feminist' book. Alanna has paved the way for Lady Knights, she has brought the dominion Jewel back to the Kingdom and faced off a supervillian who possesses the power to return from the dead. But she has done all this slightly ashamed of being a girl. Not Kel. She wears dresses to dinner and ribbons in her hair. Kel allows thoughts of boys to flit through her mind--but not when she has work ahead of her. Kel has no place for heroics and riding off alone, though she entertains those fantasies now and again. Though her job may be small and seemingly unimportant-to protect a refugee camp-she does right by it till the end.

Thus ends my 'Kel' rant. :)

I was excited to read the 'Circle of Magic' series after the success of 'Protector of the Small' but unfortunately, have been doomed to disappointment. The first book I ever read from the series raised my hopes high, but I found out, too late, that the others didn't compare. The Circle of Magic consists of three girls and a boy, all of them mages.(Yes, once again the girls outnumber the boys in a Tamora Pierce book!) But the only one whom I really liked was, unfortunately, the only boy in the group. Briar is fun to read, and seems to be given a great deal of affection by the authoress herself, simply because he has no faults. No major ones, unlike Sandry, who can be thoughtless in her nobility, Tris who is stubborn and wilful, not a good thing when she can control storms and lightning, and Daja who can be... I wouldn't know, actually. Daja seems as two-dimensional as the metal she is perpetually in love with. Briar and his interactions with Rosethorn, his strict, wise and secretly loving teacher are the most fun I had, but they should not be missed. I may be being too harsh on this set of books, not having read all of them yet-there are twelve, and I've read five-and if that has happened, I have no problem coming back and editing my post. If this post remains as is, then my opinion hasn't changed.

Once again, Ms. Pierce, I do love your books! I just wish there were more Kels and Briars, and less Alannas and Tris's, that's all. :)

Tschus! Bis dann,

Bdk

BK And What Other People Term An Obsession

Hello, all!

I mean, can you blame me?(Short answer, yes) :)

But it really isn't my fault when a natural interest in Bill Kaulitz, his hair and doings, is interpreted by the people around me as an obsession. A completely natural interest. Else I'd think there was something wrong with the thousands of girls, all around the world, who have the same-or larger-level of interest as me. So there.

Who is Bill Kaulitz?

The lead singer of the German band Tokio Hotel.

Why do you care?

Because Tokio Hotel makes seriously good music.

What's so special about him?

Nothing, probably. But what I see is someone with a wonderful voice-who *cough, cough* may possibly look like a doll come alive. Seriously.

Any other thoughts?

When Bill smiles, genuinely, like when he's on stage and he's smiling at the screaming, singing audience, then it's contagious. You can't stop smiling, too, no matter who or where in the world you are. That's the kind of smile he has. *shrug*

Signing off, (and looking at more BK pictures)

BdK

Move over, commercial nonsense. The Liars are here!

Guten Tag!

I recently finished reading Stephen Fry's 'The Liar' and came to the conclusion that it was a very good book. Not that I recommend it to anyone who knows me--they'd be very surprised, and it wouldn't be pleasant.

Most people my age and in the same location tend to struggle through some boring old morality tale-like Chetan Bhagat's Five Point Someone, or Two States, or any of his other books-with some humour interspersed with it, just enough that someone with more than a couple of braincells won't be bored reading it. They then turn around and recommend it to another blithering idiot and come off feeling superior and well-read. That is the kind of book that drives me insane. And not the good kind of insanity, the kind that possessed me while reading Oscar Wilde's 'The Picture Of Dorian Grey' the first time. Or possibly the fifth. But more about that later. The kind of books that most people tend to read, the ones with a moral and a happy ending, seem to me about taking the least amount of effort, both to read and to write. The reader, quite obviously, doesn't think once throughout the process, and the writer doesn't feel the need to make the reader think. On the whole, it's a good system for just one kind of person. The one who doesn't really want to read, but does, anyway. Because it's the educated thing to do, and because they want to feel superior. But not me. Those books literally leave me with a sick feeling inside, which has nothing to do with what my stomach has digested and everything to do with what my mind has.

Stephen Fry's book is a bit confusing, and I'll admit I don't like to be confused as much as the next person, but it makes me happy. I identify with Adrian, the protagonist, though I'm not a chronic liar.(I do sometimes feel like I'm the only person I know who is truly living life) At the end of the book, I'm left with admiration for Professor Trefusis and a grudging respect for Adrian's whoppers. While this is just one example of a book that is truly good, for me, I was introduced to the genre of morally ambiguous, but oh-so-interesting books-by Oscar Wilde's only novel, 'The Picture Of Dorian Grey'. I read this book twice the first time I read it. Or would that be the second time? I loved it so much on the first reading--so much of it escaped me on the first reading--that I had to read it all over again, just as soon as I'd finished.(The advantages of being a speed-reader, anyone?;))

These sort of books don't just interest me because of the premise, or the plot, or even the characters. It's everything. Everything in the book, wrapped up in a neat little bundle that doesn't leave me wanting more, like some of those trilogies, or quartets or whatever. But it leaves me glad to have gone through the effort. And given half a chance, I would do it all over again.

Tschus! Bis nächste Monate. Velleicht. :)