There was one story that didn’t need writing, she just had to live it instead.
There was one story that didn’t need writing, she just had to live it instead.
February is here at last! January seems to have lasted forever, probably because I spent most of it being ill. I would like to say I’m feeling better today but it seems I have a cold – been sneezing, coughing and got a sore throat again. I blame the weather! Last night it snowed again and it wasn’t meant too.
I stayed up waiting to see the super blue moon and it wasn’t until 1am that the clouds cleared enough. I then wasn’t impressed! I thought the moon was going to be huge and bright, well it was bright but not as much as I thought it would be. Maybe the bad weather had something to do with that. The photos from America of the added Luna eclipse looked really good and the moon was so massive!
It’s almost 5pm now and I should start making dinner, but I’m not hungry. My new diet is basically not eating which I hear is the wrong way to go about it but on the other hand the book I’m reading says to eat only when you are hungry….So, its a Catch 22. I should really read the novel at some point. Everyone knows that saying but not may know where it comes from.
But I’m on a book buying ban this year! Promised hubby I wouldn’t and the flat is bursting at the seams with everything. This year we should be able to get a house. Thinking that looking in the next few months is a good idea. Our own real place finally! Then maybe I could suggest the ‘b’ word again….Oh, to be like all my other friends and have a little spawn!
I get ahead of myself diary. New job first – I’m so tried of being everyone’s slave at the office. I’ve been applying for lots of things and I get interviews for a three places next week. Hopefully one of them will work out. Perhaps, I’d then find the time to start doing some writing again. Finally get that novel idea into reality?
I’m far too dreamy today! Must be this cold and the weather, though there’s no snow outside now and it’s sunny for a change! Hubby will be home soon, so I must figure out what we can eat. Or at least him…
Till tomorrow then!
It was all ready a week into the new year and I still hadn’t decided on any resolutions. Though as my best friend had delighted in telling me, ‘goals of the new year,’ was now the fashion. Instead of being negative and ‘giving up things,’ make what you want to do more positive. So like saying ‘this year I’m going to go on a strict diet and really going to lose this weight,’ turn it around and say ‘I’m going to buy that dress one size down to inspire me eat less everyday.’ It didn’t seem to matter to me though, they both meant the same thing.
Tapping a pen from my new stationary set on the blank piece of paper before me, I wondered why I needed to write down some yearly goals anyway. What was behind this tradition of setting these goals in a new year? Why couldn’t you write them down some other time? What if you had no goals?
I slide the piece of paper away and placed the pen on top. I folded my arms over my chest and stared at them. This year, I wasn’t going to set any goals. I was just going to live how I wanted to.
(Inspired by; https://mindlovemiserysmenagerie.wordpress.com/2018/01/04/tale-weaver-153-the-new-year-4th-january-2018/ with thanks).
It’s raining today, so I can’t be bothered to write. It’s more of a drink tea and read day.
The sickness is growing, I can feel it and if you’ve found this letter it means the time has finally come. I’m now too sick to sick to talk to you. I’ve gone to my bedroom and will die in my bed. Don’t bother coming to see me, there’s no point. My life has been so empty from the beginning that it only seems fitting that I should die alone now.
I’m trusting everything to you. Underneath this letter is the envelope containing my will. Only you and I know about how I live and that what people say about me isn’t true. I want you to up hold that imagine of me though; the quiet, yet social writer and artist. Who attend a different party or grand opening or some other important event every evening. Who’s house was always full with friends and he slept with different women each night. The too kind, mysterious, rich young man I wish I’d been in my youth.
Please carry on writing my ideas and books for me. You were always so good with new technology. I made it so in my will that you were able to write under my pseudonym, that way you can carry on perfecting your craft. You’ll make a great writer someday and finally be able to step out of my shadow.
I’m sorry to have to leave you like this. You have been like the wife and daughter, I daydreamed about having. I feel I should give you more but you already have my name and career in your hands, so what else can there be?
What I want is simple enough, I wrote in my journal, I want to feel the fall leaves brushing past me and winter’s icy breath on my skin. I want to watch the early nights come then curl up before a fire with a hot chocolate. What I want is to walk during the dry days and sat reading on the rainy ones all though this season and the next.
I paused, tapping the top of the pen against my lips. Thinking, I then added; If only I could do that! If people could be like the animals that hibernated then winter would be more joyful. I could just do what I want; the above. But life doesn’t work that way and the rain and snow don’t stop peoples’ plans.
Still though, to be a squirrel running around and collecting food, scampering through the leaves and curling in a little hidey-hole to sleep. That life seems simple and easy. But then I wouldn’t be able to read or sleep by a fire! And what if the other squirrels were mean to me?
No, I guess being me is easier for the moment, even if that’s not what I truly want.
(Inspired by; https://mindlovemiserysmenagerie.wordpress.com/2017/09/07/tale-weaver-136-7917-what-i-want/ with thanks.)
WordPress has just told me that today is The Story Files’ 3rd anniversary even though I started writing this blog in the middle of 2014. I don’t know how the dates and times work out, I’ve a disability in maths. I’m also dyslexic, so how I ended up with a love of reading and writing, I’ll never know, but I’m thankful for it.
Writing stories has been my escape and stress relief since I was a child, despite the challenges I’ve had with letters, words and grammar! I’ve always found that novels- the ones I read and the ones I write, were there for me when no one else really was. Luckily, things are different for me today but I still finding writing good for dealing with my problems.
I started writing this blog soon after a graduated from a Masters degree in Creative Writing. I had serious depression and was feeling at a lost as to what to do with my life. In doing this blog, I forced myself to write a story a day, thus giving me an active thing to do each day no matter what. This and also rediscovering a love for crafts, helped me get over the depression.
Now though, I’m in the habit of writing stories for this blog. I enjoy it and I know for an hour or so each day I can escape into writing. if I can’t make time for it, I work it into whatever I’m doing during the day; I’ll write at lunch and my breaks, sometimes even when I’m meant to be working! Sometimes though, I don’t write a story everyday because I might be away for a weekend etc and it’s good at that time to give my mind a small break. In that case, I’ll write the number of stories needed on other days and that helped to mix things up for me and allows the creativity to grew further.
Originally, I started this blog to give myself some space. I didn’t care who read it or liked or commented because that wasn’t important to me. Over the years, that has changed and now I love feedback in anyway. It’s important to help my writing improve and I feel so happy every time someone lets me know they’ve liked a story and or they take the time to comment to tell me so.
I don’t know what the future is for this blog or my stories. I hope to continue as long as possible. Perhaps, one day I’ll make an anthology, or work on some stories to publish or maybe even write another novel – been awhile since my last one! Whatever happens, I just want to say a big thank you to everyone who follows, likes, comments and shares my blog. I appreciate you all so much and you help inspire me to keep writing.
If you’d like to know more about me and also read the book reviews I write please check out my other blog; https://hailscrazyblog.blogspot.co.uk/
Thank you again!
I’ve lost the inspiration and motivation again. It’s like there’s a light bulb above my head that burns bright for a few days then dims and dims till it goes out. Turning it back on is so hard. And I swear each time it takes longer and gets more difficult.
I know what people say; ‘you shouldn’t wait for inspiration,’ ‘find your own motivation,’ ‘just keep going and working through no matter what you feel that day.’
But they are not me.
Someone of them are more successful and they use that to conquer the bad days. Others, have to do it because otherwise they won’t survive so they can’t give up. The rest are chasing their dream, the knowledge of one day getting there seeing them through.
I’m in between all of that; successful but not, surviving just, wanting the dream but also boarder line living it.
Everyday I see people moving on with their lives; getting married, having kids, getting a house, getting a better job, a new car, holidays and celebrations. Getting divorced, losing everything, maybe living on the streets for awhile but then rising back up like a phoenix and going through it all again.
Whilst, I feel trapped. I’m living through the characters I write about, seeing the world and problems through them, feeling their emotions. Some say that’s living better then anyone else, for why would you actually want to go through that?
You know what I call it? Fake living.
I can go to the park and watch the children playing and the parents talking and instead of thinking about my own life, I’m thinking about theirs’. What would happen if a child went suddenly missing? Or if that mum told that mum that she had slept with her husband? Why is that dad alone this afternoon? Is the man with the cap covering his face and trying to look normal really up to something bad?
Those thoughts can’t be helped. I try to stop the flow, to think of things I believe normal people think about; have a left the stove on? When are my library books due back? What happened to that girl I swapped numbers with at the bar last weekend? My life would be easier if that was the only stuff in my head.
I don’t know what to do about this lack of motivation again. I should maybe take a holiday, go some place new. Meet some new people too. Have a life again. It’s all well and good to live in your own fantasy world all the time, but sooner or later, you realise that it’s just not the real world no matter how hard you try.
The hotel staff knew him like they knew the numbers on a clock which was very useful because he was always on time. He arrived without flash, in comfy clothes and carrying a small black suitcase. To anyone else he looked like a tourist, but the check in desk girls knew him not to be.
He said his name quietly and he would check in. With his card, he would take the lift up to his room and he would roll his suitcase down the carpet corridor and to the door. There, he let himself in and the door shut firmly behind him with the please do not disturb sign swinging.
He would be seen frequently around the hotel; in the restaurant, in the bar, in the lounge and lobby. Sometimes he would be typing away on a laptop, other times writing in a notebook and whilst he eat; reading a book, always alone. No one seemed really interested him in, a quick glance then on to what they were doing.
His stay could last a few days or a week, sometimes though it would be more than that; two or three weeks, a month or two. It just depend on what he needed. Then he would tidy his room and check out. Often looking more cheerful then he came in.
Months later in the post, the hotel always received a copy of his new novel.
I had been wandering around for a few weeks looking for a quiet spot where I’d be undisturbed to finish editing my latest novel. All my normal places; my study, my bedroom, the library, the park, the coffee shops and pubs I haunted, hadn’t allowed me to complete my work.
It wasn’t lack of motivation, determination or inspiration that was stopping me, it was more the background distractions. So, I had come out here to the middle of the woods to find the peace I needed. It was a bright hot day, unusual English summer time weather but also a week day so most people were trapped in work and school.
It had been awhile since I had last strolled or ran through the woods, so I was surprised to come across the wooden sculpture of a bed. It was made out of thick, but smoothed down tree trunk cut in half with a smaller part of the trunk shaped into a pillow.
I sat down, thinking it would be too hard to sit for long, but actually it was quite comfy. Settling back against the pillow, I set up myself to work and some good hours later I had finished editing my novel and was napping in the dappled shade.
(Inspired from; https://scvincent.com/2017/07/06/thursday-photo-prompt-peace-writephoto/ with thanks)
Life is make believe, fantasy given form
Dark vampire fantasy. Because dangerous fiction is sexy.
A man with dyslexia writing about this and that and everything else!
Crimson's prose, poems and photos