Ideas Stalk Me

What would you do if, one day, you got a chance to see into the future, and you saw that you were going to be killed within the next week by a fatal chain of events leading to one big accident?

Would you yell? Scream? Cry in frustration? Or would you do everything you could in an attempt to save yourself?

What if, on this very same day, you managed to find a chance to travel back in time to stop that chain of events from ever starting. Would you take that chance?

And, let’s just say that there’s a slight hitch with the aforementioned time-travelling. When you alter something, a rip occurs in space/time and tears open by about five centimetres, the amount doubling every time something is altered. Would you still keep going? Or would you stop and await your fate to be dished up to you, even with the knowledge that there was a slight chance that you could have saved yourself without tearing the universe down the middle?

This is the tale of just how selfish one man can get when faced with total annihilation, and the devastation that he alone can cause. It’s just a story idea, but I want to have a crack at it when I’m completely finished (or really need a break from) the novel I’m currently writing. I’m thinking it’s going to end up rather entertaining to write…

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Being a Writer

It’s easily one of the best and one of the worst hobbies/occupations you could ask for.

You go on the incredible highs, and then you get smacked in the face with absolutely horrible lows. We could almost compare it with an alcohol addiction, but we won’t, since writing’s actually productive, and probably won’t have nearly as much of a negative effect on your health.

Now, when I say writing, remember that I mean the writing of fiction, not simply, the writing of this random blog post that I’m about to paste on the Internet for everyone to read, should they be misfortunate enough to stumble upon this lonely little blog.

More to the point, there are times when writers and all other artists have great amounts of inspiration. And then – well, then there are the times when there is absolutely none. You sit and stare at a blank page for hours upon hours on end, longing for something to write.

And then, on top of that, it’s very easy to get tired of what you’re currently writing. Since I’m doing the NaNoWriMo and have to get to 50,000 words by the end of this month, this comes quickly. Creative output is forced out of you and stretched into a novel-size manuscript, and by the time you’ve reached a fair amount of words, you find that it starts to get hard to keep going. To keep concentrating. To keep churning out that same style of description that you love to describe with.

Writing’s the best thing I ever got into. This is true. But sometimes, it’s also the worst. And yet, no matter how bad it gets, I still find myself infatuated with it. When I decided I’d begin writing, I didn’t know it would be a lifetime decision. But once you’re in on the game… you’re on the field, permanently, whether you like it or not – and it’s most-likely that if you picked to write, you will always like it.

It’s amazing what a bunch of once-meaningless symbols on a page can do to your mind.