Writing and Publishing (week 6)

Another week has gone and now time to post another one.
Not entirely happy with the result. I started off writing romance and soon warmed up my mind to thinking quite bitter thoughts for some reason. I seem to write better when one of the characters is bitter about something. One thing I learnt today was nobody is ever totally evil or totally a good person, there is always a balance between the two. I guess this guy is more good but obviously in his past there could have been some evil thats making him go into hiding now

But I'll let you be the judge of that!

Enjoy

The stench of the fire as water sloshed over it snaked around the living room. I listened for any sign of disturbances in my house as I crept to the bedroom, now prepared for another sleepless night as I clutched the cold metal under my pillow while my wife played with my hair on the other side. Every night previous to this she would whisper in my ear for me to lie with her again, for joy to cling to our bodies, but every time she would wrap her warm hands around my chest I wouldn’t make any effort to move from my position. She would soon braid my hair and rest her head on my chest defeated once again. I used to wake up in the middle of the night in a sweat, with my hands covered in blood from clenching, while still holding my knife. My hands are now covered in old and new scars from accidently slashing my hand.
My wife used to say the best part about me was my hands. They were soft once, yet manly at the same time. She would guide my hands over her body just so she could feel my silk strong touch, and now she’s too afraid to even hold my hand. Every scar she feels is a reminder of my fear. It’s as if fear is scraping at my skin slowly taking away my sanity. If a strong man like me is terrified of what creaks in the night then what is my wife going to do when the time comes and they finally take us away? I can’t protect her even with the knife I hold at night. It’s a poor defence compared to the weapons they use to make us cooperate.

Night washed over us as I fell into another trance wondering what to do. We could no longer escape, for it seemed every planet was taken over by them.
I sighed heavily as she tossed and turned next to me while whispering
“What will this world come to if everyone was under their spells?”
“It will die my dear” I rasped back
“So why are we still hiding when there is no hope for us anymore?” she rolled over to me and started braiding my hair “are you so afraid of freedom that you would run and hide for the rest of your life?” I thought about what she said through the whole night. I never answer her and she knows I possibly never will. I am confident though, that one day I will come up with an answer, and when I do finally reply to her I will taste the sweetness of freedom and then can die with her peacefully. Instead, I still taste the bitterness of war and like licking a battery it will remain there until I can think of a reason why following orders and slaughtering innocent people is their answer to the end of war…

Writing and Publishing (week 5)

Yet another entry about my writing class. This one I'm actually somewhat proud of. Perhaps because I can see a little of myself in the character.
The main male character was influenced by a character from my favourite anime Full Metal Alchemist. We're all meant to hate this character, yet at the same time we're driven to love and understand everything he does and somehow that sometimes justifies the lives lost because of him.

Give me your words of advice, I love all of your opinions!

I woke in a cold sweat that clung to my face and chest. My breathing was heavy and as I lay there I began to wonder about the dream that took hold of my mind.
My body felt hot despite me lying on cold ground. Lying there felt peaceful as I let the dream cover my mind in a cloud of knowledge, yet somehow I felt unsafe. Watched. I tried to sit up to check my surroundings but as my arms bent back to lift me pain shot through my wrists and my arms stopped abruptly. I was chained. I lifted my legs and once again pain and a forceful halt seized me from moving much of my body. Straining my head up I could just see ahead of me. Bruises covered my whole body, blood spilled from my slashed skin and I realised what had happened. I was defeated.

“Fucking hell” I yelled “that really hurts. Didn’t anyone ever tell you not to beat up on women?” feet walked towards me and I winced as they swung up to kick me again. They stopped in mid air only to say
“But you’re not a woman are you Charlie?” the man laughed and kicked my already bruised thigh. I jumped at the pain forcing both my ankles and wrists to cry in protest of my movement.
“No but I resemble everything there is about women. The mind, the appearance, everything. Except—
“Except the fact that you are not. Shall we negotiate” the man swung his leg over me and sat down on my stomach. He was light for a man of his size, but then again, I thought, he wasn’t as strong as what he looked. His mind was his strong point and no doubt his loyal dogs gave me these bruises and scars. No wonder I was defeated, I was out numbered. He played unfairly.
“I will never negotiate with a man who lies.” I stare straight up at the sky. Perhaps I was afraid of his face, not because of what his true form held, but because if I looked at his face I was afraid upon looking in his eyes, that I would cave in. cave in just like last time when I first saw his face in my village.
“I never lied to you Charlie, I only protected you from the truth. Why don’t you look at me anymore” he touched my face lightly catching a tear that had fallen from my eye “protecting your village is like me protecting your heart. Here let me help you” he unlocked one chain and let my hand slide out of the cuffs. I lashed at him but his hand locked around my broken wrist and I cried out in pain
“Ah ah ah” he tisked at me “naughty girl, be gentle or the cuffs go back on” he laced his fingers through mine and leaned forward blocking my view from the sky so I was forced to look at him. His eyes, I thought I can see again. My body froze up once more and my mind shattered, too afraid of the information held within his eyes. I could see everything. The destruction of my village, the lives I killed, everything that I destroyed was there. He stared unblinking at me until he was satisfied I saw enough. The man I once loved and whom I killed for was punishing me for feeling such love.
And now he too must die…

I lashed with my free hand at the ground as I undug the chains that were buried deep in the earth and swung it towards his face. I heard a crunch and scream as he fell back. My claws extended as anger and pain shot through my body, transforming me to my true form. Breaking the chains through little force I was able to stand once more and defeat him. I looked upon his face one last time as my memories showed through his eyes
“My dear you’re looking beautiful once more.” He said shedding his skin for the last time and revealing his true form.

I hope that was enjoyable. Back to "Highways" about the character above. Helsinki knows!

Jinx xx

Chasing Feathers

Working in a bookshop can have more benefits than you can imagine. Apart from the obvious, a bookshop being the best part-time job for my career path, it also opens your mind and lets you explore stories that you wouldn’t usually notice.

I saw a bookmark with a creature on the front that was utterly charming. On the back it led me to a website (www.liquidmoon.com.au) and there I found the most beautiful children’s book I’d seen in a long time. The story can only be bought online but an extract can be written if you just follow the links.

This is Jodi’s first novel, as she is a Melbourne based artist and usually makes clay-like models of her creatures and even paints occasionally. This is probably why you can only buy the book online, because she wants to make the story a sort of art piece in itself. The illustrations are just gorgeous you must flick through just to see what she creates out of our world

The story is about a normal city; however, if you look closely creatures are operating everything. For example inside the traffic lights are little traffic controllers operating the lights to change from green to red. This job is Yogi’s job however when he finds himself fired, he realises that he’s been searching for something else. As here is the beginning of his journey to follow his dream.
I will certainly be reading this to my kids when I’m older. Just beautiful!

Jinx xx

Fly on the wall

Fly on the wall. A phrase that’s used by many people, “wouldn’t you love to be a fly on the wall”
E. Lockhart takes that idea and uses the saying literally. A little too literally if that makes sense.

The story is about Gretchen Yee. Gretchen as a kid, Gretchen as a fly…yes I thought it was weird too…and Gretchen as a superhero…at least that part wasn’t literal.

By being a fly on the wall of the boy’s locker room Gretchen learns about what happens in their lives behind closed doors. I guess I liked the idea in the end because I enjoyed the character a lot more than the last few chapters of The Disreputable History of Frankie Landau-Banks, however, it took a while for me to like the literal use on the saying, but then again that made it unpredictable! I expected…I don’t know…for her to find vents to sneak through, it even crossed my mind that she might dress as a boy and pretend she’s new to the school, just to get a peak at the guys in the locker room. What!? It could happen!
What made the story so much more interesting, also, was her reasoning for wanting to be a “fly on the wall in the boy’s locker room.” It had that air of feminism, that I’m pretty sure Lockhart is an expert in now! And more importantly it wasn’t ONLY to look at the boys “gherkins” but to also try and understand them. The guy that she likes is quiet, why?…Titus Titus Titus and she can’t understand why Shane (her ex-boyfriend) likes Jazmin LeMaitre more than her. She wants to know whether he still thinks about her and why anyone would EVER be interested in someone like her. The comic-book freak.

Having such an experience makes her realise that when things go wrong in peoples lives there’s no Spiderman to take care of you. You have to fix things yourself. This was a very smart and enjoyable message to read, when clearly this story is aimed at young adult. I give this book 3 out of 5. Geez I’m a hard marker! 2 marks were taken off because it dragged slightly and I felt that by making the saying I love to quote too literal, E. Lockhart therefore made situations that happen in our own life seem somewhat fictional.

Titus

Titus

Ti…actually I liked Malachy more...

Malachy

Malachy

Malachy

And can someone please tell me how to pronounce him name correctly. The pronunciation I have is not sitting right in my head!! (Mal-ac-k-ee) ewwwwww

Jinx xx

Writing and Publishing (week 2)

Writing classes were held on Tuesday and this is another extract that I wrote in an hour. It was much harder this time because I was trying to write horror, which is a genre I haven’t done before. I’m thinking I’m better with genres such as fantasy, science fiction etc.
BUT! Here it is anyway!

I don’t like it but tell me what you think!

Drowning is often described as a peaceful death. Blue images surround you as your lungs give way and it’s just a slow motion ride to the bottom. Its quiet and nobody can touch you anymore. My uncle always told me that if he were to die a perfect death, to drown him in a river. He made me promise I would, if the topic of death was ever bought up again. I said my perfect death would be to wake from a peaceful sleep, wake up my wife and kiss her goodbye, before lying back on the bed and quietly passing. He said that was a silly way to die and that everybody should die alone. There is no need to say goodbye, when you’re always with the people you love
“Don’t ever think that death is the last thing that happens to you. It’s just the beginning of change. A new life.” My uncle never believed in heaven. Maybe that’s why, when he finally died my hands never felt dry again, and he never really left me alone…

* * *

My relationship with my uncle was always different compared to other families. Even my own family found it weird that I spent more time with him than my own father. Probably because my father and I were nothing alike and my uncle never seemed to mind me letting myself into his house to watch TV with him, play chess, and discuss my day at school. I never liked to tell my father about my time at school because he worked so hard to put me in the best school there is. Alabaster college was an affluent school that I didn’t belong to, yet a school my father wanted me to.
When my auntie died my uncle could no longer fend for himself. He lost all the will to live his life properly and slowly begun to sink into a slimy bile of depression. At this stage in his life, the topic of death was prominent in our afternoon conversations after school. While doing my homework as he cooked baked beans on the stove he would often recite his “fun facts” like
“Drowning is often described as a peaceful death…”
When walking to his house one afternoon I could see him sitting on his roof. I didn’t go to school for a week after he broke his ankle falling on it.
Another day I walked in on him standing in the living room with a gun to his head. I didn’t sleep from that day forward.
It soon became obvious that my uncle couldn’t be left alone anymore. I offered to stay in the house with him until he got some help…or found another way while I wasn’t looking. The day I moved in was the day I had to promise I would, if the topic of death was ever bought up again.
After a year of living with him he seemed to improve and I started to believe that my presence was helping him get over the death of the person he loved. One night when he was singing in the kitchen while washing up and I was finishing my homework he sung out
“I might have a bath before I sleep tonight Jimmy. Could you start running the water?” and I knew then, this was the night…

Jinx xx