Ink Dreams

Ink drips from my fingers while I sleep

Dropping onto a lake of words

That flows down a river

Of Consonants and Vowels

To pool onto my notepad.

Words bloom into bloody flowers

That grow in a man’s abandoned ribcage

And are trampled underfoot

By wolves that feast upon children’s nightmares

And cuddle with the victims of their prey.

In the morning it dries

And I am left

With a blank page.

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Advice 2

So, I had to give up on NanoWrimo. School decided that this semester wasn’t quite hard enough, so it procured three research papers and a creative writing portfolio for me to put together and then lumped on top of the pile of misfortune two final cumulative exams on the same day.

Great.

So, I have a partly finished novel that I am forced to put aside until the semester stops dogging my heels. In the mean time, I am also taking a larger hiatus from here. Don’t worry, it is only three weeks. I will be back before you know it. I do, however, want to offer this to you until then.

So, my creative writing professor here at college is Dr. Robert Vivian, a man who walks around the world in perpetual wonder. He is amazing and offers some of the best advice when it comes to writing that I have ever received. This is my third semester in a row with him and I regret nothing except that I have taken all of his creative writing classes and can no longer continue (though, I am currently trying to devise a way to change that… we shall see). His curiosity about the world can never be fulfilled and he is continually astonished by the beauty he is surrounded by.

Seriously. You may think I am exaggerating, but I am not in the slightest. He refuses to hold his creative writing in a normal classroom because he feels his mind is too confined and moves them permanently to a corner in the library where we are surrounded by books and that unique smell they give off or the basement of the chapel where occasionally piano music drifts through the floorboards as we work. He offers assignments where he simply gives us a list of characteristics and asks us to write a story where they are all included, has us create a fictional town and then insists we propagate characters to fit inside, takes us outside to sit in the sunlight on the lawn and write about a ray of light on some object, or sends us on a scavenger hunt for the last half of the class period to find the oldest book in the library and then write about it (by the way… I highly suggest you do these prompts. They are quite engaging.).

So, I have decided to share a bit of his wisdom with you. He is a firm believer that writing comes from a place of other, a dream space that sends us inspiration to the point where we are simply a conduit of words and phrases to place upon the page… sound familiar? Yeah… kind of like my theory about my Muse. That probably explains why I like him so much. The following link is a paper he wrote about the writing process and I do hope you will take the time to read it. He wrote it several years ago, but it is still relevant to what he teaches and the writing process in general. He explains his theory in more detail within and I think it will help those of you who are actually managing to finish NanoWrimo or simply write and are looking for some new inspiration/writing advice.

http://www.sosyalarastirmalar.com/cilt1/sayi3/sayi3_pdf/vivian_robert.pdf

Godspeed!

Dreamy Inspiration

Sometimes, after waking from a particularly vivid dream, I feel like something is missing. I’ll find myself reaching for objects that aren’t there, trying to accomplish tasks that are beyond my ability, and searching for thought processes that I’m sure I was thinking just a moment ago, though I don’t know what they are. I just feel my mind reaching for something and whenever it isn’t able to grasp it, I find myself feeling confused and sad, like I’ve lost something important.

I have come to suspect that my mind is looking for creation, the power of changing the world around me to create something more that is only possible to attain in a dream. When nothing changes, that is when I realize what I am doing. The realization doesn’t end the feeling, though. Instead, it intensifies as I actively search for it along with my subconscious.

The lure of writing grabs me best at such times. Throughout the day, all I will want to do is write as I go to classes or work and run errands. I spend the day as though I am still dreaming and the world around me becomes secondary. It is times like this that I understand how some people could become lost in their dreams. When dreams become so similar to, or even take precedence over, reality, it is hard to break free. So I just take advantage of my extreme introversion at such times and use my wildest imaginings as inspiration.

Dream’s Creation

I am surrounded by nothingness. I am a nameless entity in a sea of possibility. I reach out and snatch tendrils of thoughts and weave them together. After some examination, I am satisfied and release it to form however it wishes. It grows in leaps and bounds until I, who was once in control, am lead into a story of its own creation. I jump from character to character, scene to scene, finding no reason in any of it and not caring. Stories are unveiled before me as I am rushed along on the tide of thought and I find myself anticipating something, though I know not what it is. I know I’m close, so that my goal is almost tangible. If I had just a moment more, I could reach it.

But then the alarm clock wakes me. I don’t remember any specifics of the dream, knowing only that it was a good one. I feel satisfied, as if I have accomplished something in my slumber, but I also feel that I have forgotten something very important, something that never should have been forgotten. No worries, though. I’m sure that I will rediscover it tonight, when I once again build a new world for myself to experience.