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Writing
Former Member
Posts: 1,876,323 The Mix Honorary Guru
in General Chat
I dunno where to put this, so yer.. thought I'd put it here! 
I used to write stories and stuff all the time, but I've had writers block forever. And basically, I've become a crap writer. I spend too much time on getting the beginning perfect. I know you should just write anything and then go back to it later to neaten it up. But I mean.. any techniques I could use to write better?
And.. I need help of getting writers block.. and coming up with ideas :crazyeyes
HELP?
I used to write stories and stuff all the time, but I've had writers block forever. And basically, I've become a crap writer. I spend too much time on getting the beginning perfect. I know you should just write anything and then go back to it later to neaten it up. But I mean.. any techniques I could use to write better?
And.. I need help of getting writers block.. and coming up with ideas :crazyeyes
HELP?
0
Comments
Used to write poetry and others years ago, but haven't got much advice for you sorry, everything just basically came to me...
I can't get inspiration and I don't get past the first paragraph. Pretty annoying. I worry too much about quality than quantity. I mean, I can just go back at the end to neaten it up..
And the story goes nowhere. Need ideas for a good twist or something..
:mad: :rolleyes:
You can borrow my imagination if you want. It's hyperactive and yet I'm too lazy to write stuff down......
Go ahead post it, would like to read it...
See Spot run. Run Spot, run. See Spot plucked from the ground by an undead creature. See the rotting corpse eat Spot's brains. Shamble forward in a never ending quest to quench your constant thirst for human brain Spot, shamble.
All you need is a spark. In all seriousness, I just picture zombies or something stupid in a weird situation and it gives me an idea. Not always a good one but if you just let your mind float around, you'll get something.
Oki doki
As for stories, with twists, think backwards. Think of a situation they've ended up in, and then work back to figure the previous step that lead them there. Sometimes works.
One is basically 50 pages of me moaning about what's shit in life (like when you're in a rush to get somewhere, but the person infront of you on the escalator won't walk up it at the same time....god it makes me angry :mad: ) and the other is the first volume of my self edited works of Aphra Behn which i've constructed from the first 1689 publications
Anyway, if i'm writing fiction and need inspiration, sometimes i'll read a novel and adapt their ideas. Another good way is to look in the newspaper (local i find is best) and try and adapt a short story around one the small articles in it, just create a character out of the people mentioned, and set them in the plot (ie the story). You should easily be able to get 5,000 words out of a 250 word piece
I sometimes get the impression that my favourite authors (Ian McEwan for example) get their ideas from all sorts of crazy places.
Take his book 'Saturday' which i'm reading. The main character is renowned neuro surgeon who gets involved in the Anti War protests. His book 'Enduring Love' is about a man who gets a stalker after he and a group of strangers try and rescue a man and a boy from a hot air balloon. Another one called perfect geometry involves a great great great relatives diaries and a pickled penis in a jar.
These books are generally regarded as some of the best works of modern literature, but the concepts...seem a bit...paradoxical (if that's the right word..well they're strange concepts anyway)
Perhaps you could do a historical fiction writing; robert harris' Pompeii is a pretty good example of this, basically he's created a character who understands the disaster at pompeii in ancient rome is about to happen. Another good example is Birdson by Sebastien Faulks, maybe detail the life of a soldier in the war as he does.
If you have an idea, don't make the language and plot elaborate from the start; outline a beginning middle and end, and then develop them into a story.
My (vague) idea for my next novella is about a few monks that live in the hills of greece. I'm not sure where i'm going to go with it exactly, and it may seem like a difficult thing to write, but just now i can think of things to add...people stumbling across it (maybe like the wicker man), or someone leaving the order and moving into a city - not understanding it. Perhaps it could be about the monks battle to hang on to their traditions, or it could be an individuals struggle - maybe he meets a women and has to choose between his monastrey and her. If i really wanted to construct this into a novel, i'd probably add all these and a hell of a lot more.
Draw on personal experience, even if you don't think you have much to write about, you probably do, you just might have to change the genre you want to write in. I'm sure you've been through school, maybe college and uni, just this makes a great basis for fiction, especially kids fiction, but you could perhaps write a story about a child struggling to balance a crappy homelife and an even worse school life.
The most important thing i can say about poetry is to get a good meter. Iambic pentameter usually works best. I usually write mine in free verse though, as i don't like to be restricted to rhyme patterns and line limits etc etc.
Well anyway i fear i've rambled on here, but i reckon the bbc get writing website might also be a good source at http://www.bbc.co.uk/getwriting
another good one was eastoftheweb.com/uncut but it appears to have disappeared
Hope this helps and good luck.
(if anyone wants to read some of my stuff i'd feel special)
My eyes shot open. Loud music blurred from my alarm clock, echoing against the 4 walls that surrounded me. My birthday had finally arrived. Excitement filled my stomach, making it leap. Darting out of my bed, I flung the hot pink duvet off me onto the floor. The colours of my room seemed brighter somehow. Happiness filled my body, projecting a huge smile across my face. A picture of presents and laughter was all that was in my mind as I danced around the room in time to the music. I opened my wardrobe, trying to choose what clothes to wear. I decided to wear my ruby red polo shirt, worn baggy jeans, faded grey hoody and black converse shoes. When leaving the room I sprayed myself with a blast of perfume and headed downstairs.
My mum was perched in front of the TV as usual, with a glass of beer in her hand. It was only 11am and she was already hitting the bottle. The room stunk of stale smoke, with no presents in sight.
“Hi Mum…” There was no answer. She kept her eyes fixed on the chat show she was watching. “Hello..?”
“What do you want?” She barked. Her voice was slurred, automatically telling me she was drunk. I searched around the room for my gifts but all that was seen was trays of cigarette ends, empty bottles of wine, even plates of mouldy food from last week. My happiness seemed to have drained. It was turning to anger.
“Mum.. you do know its my birthday today don’t you?” I asked her.
“What birthday?” I can’t believe she had forgotten her only daughter’s birthday.
“Just forget it.” I sniffed. I bet if I went missing for a week she wouldn’t even notice. She’d been too busy downing her stash of beer. Marching over to the silver wide screen TV, I pulled the plug out of the socket, looking my mum in the face. She glared back at me, with rage burning in her eyes. Her dark brown hair was packed of grease, practically sticking to her head.
”Put that back on. Now.” My mum screamed. Getting out of her seat, she gradually moved closer to me.
“Haha. I don’t think so. This is the only chance I’ve had to tell you how much of a bad mother you are. I can’t believe you have forgotten my 16th birthday. But I guess it’s just typical of you isn’t it? The only friend you have is the drink.” My mum edged nearer, her face nearly touching mine. The smoke on her breath make me want to throw up.
”Well at least the drink makes me happy. All you do is moan, use all of my money and get under my feet.” I couldn’t believe what I was hearing.
“I won’t stay around for much longer.”
”Thank God. I’ve been wishing you would get out of my life since the day you were born. You’re a waste of space.”
I couldn’t stay within the company of my mum much longer. She had a habit of making me feel like me being alive is a waste of oxygen, that I’m not worth anything. Her eyes burned into me. She tightened her fists, aiming a punch at me. I ducked. On the table next to me was one of many empty wine bottles. Grabbing the top, I swung for my mother. The bottle smashed, flinging shards of green glass everywhere. Before I could see her reaction, I headed towards the pearl white front door, opening it fiercely, slamming it behind me. There was no going back now.
That morning the streets where empty. The only sign of life was an old man walking his dog on the opposite side of the road. As I ran, my loud footsteps were all that could be heard. I kept looking behind me to make sure she wasn’t chasing after me, but after whacking her with the bottle I had probably knocked her unconscious. After about 5 minutes of running, my lungs were burning. I didn’t know if I should take a chance at stopping incase my mum was behind me. Running on for another couple of minutes, a row of about 6 shops appeared. I rummaged around in my pocket for some spare change and headed into the newsagents.
The shop was silent. Behind the counter sat a middle-aged woman with bright red hair, glasses sitting at the end of her nose. She was reading a celebrity magazine, humming to herself. I headed over to the huge blue fridge and reached for a bottle of coke on the top shelf. The door of the fridge banged shut making me jump out of my skin. Approaching the counter I could here the woman humming, minding her own business. I coughed loudly to get attention.
“65p please.” She quickly asked. Handing her the money, she grabbed the pound coin out of my hand. The woman took her time opening the till and handing me my 35p change. I smiled at her as she gave my money, but she gave me a false look, sitting back down on her chair, burying herself back into the magazine.
I’d been wandering around for what seemed like hours when I came to a park. There was still no sign of life anywhere, I felt like I was the only person in the world right now. A playground was poking through the trees ahead.
I flung the black metal gate of the playground open. My heart was beating so fast that I suddenly became dizzy, my head spinning. My legs felt numb so I staggered inside the abandoned playground, perching myself under the nearest tree. The light was gradually getting darker, grey clouds filling up the sky. A drop of rain lands on my nose and cheek, making them tickle slightly. The grass underneath me was damp with frost, and I was surrounded by red, yellow and orange leaves. A blast of wind brushed against my face and through the branches of the tree above me. The playground was deserted. A chill ran up my spine, my hands were red raw from the cold. I placed my hood up over my head and hid in my jacket to avoid the chilly breeze. All I could hear was a creaking sound. I peered around the playground. A swing was swinging slowly, as if someone had just pushed it. I knew I wasn’t alone.
There was a loud rustling sound coming from the trees. A hooded figure suddenly appeared. As they came into the light, I could see that it was a boy, maybe a year or so older than me. His ripped jeans dragged along the floor as he came nearer. Black hair covered part of his face hiding his blue eyes. He seemed shy as while he walked towards me, but I didn’t know what to think as he could have been anyone out to do anything. I sat motionless while he approached me. The boy crouched down, flicking his hair out of his eyes.
“Erm… hi.” He stuttered sitting down next to me.
“Who are you?” I asked him.
“Blake…” he replied.
“I’m Emily.. “
There was a silence. Blake seemed to look anxious and worried.
”Um.. Emily… “
”Yeah?”
“Can I tell you a secret?”