Archive for the ‘Writing’ Category

Together, They Grew Closer


2010
02.24

Deep in the heart of a forest, a flower grew.  Even as the thicket encroached upon its leaves and petals, stubbornly she grew there, her petals basking the forest floor in their beauty.

Yet, as that flower grew taller and taller, she found the thicket above her, pushing down on her, restricting her growth.  She struggled to push through, but each time, the thicket seemed just as dense as before, so that finally, after much effort, she gave up.  Her stem started to bend as she leaned forward to find another path to the rays of sunshine she so desperately needed to live.  Her lean diminished her beauty, but not enough to prevent her bloom showering the forest floor, giving her a child, which began its life nearby.  She accepted her place in life and tended to her child’s safety and nutrition.

One of these children blossomed into a strong, bright flower and outgrew all his siblings.  From time to time, his mother would remind him that he could not grow forever, that one day he would reach the thicket, upon which he would have to stop.  Here, she would indicate the stoop in her stem, the crinkle in her leaves.  He saw his mother from a different angle, though.  He saw that were she to push a little harder, she might break through the thicket branches, which were only a few inches thick.  With a few pushes in the right places, she might push them aside forever and grow to her full height.

But try as he might to encourage her, she had long ago believed it to be impossible and had grown forward too far.  And this was how she died in the end, bent over and crippled.  Her child vowed not to repeat her mistake – he would push through any branches to reach the sun that stood in his way.  Unknown to him, he grew under a large branch of a tree above.  As he grew taller and taller, he found the branch above him, pushing down on him, restricting his growth.  Though he pushed, the branch seemed impervious to all of his efforts against it.  He looks upon the wasting shell of his mother, curled over and hunched with new eyes.  He saw her struggle in his.

Yet in that recognition, he realized that in her struggle had been a solution, one which she had given up the search for.  Seeing how she died, he decided it would be better for him to struggle and try all his life, than be bent over and only live half a life.  So he pushes some more.  He meets a girl flower, who is swept up in his vision.  While all the flowers around her had accepted their limitations, he had shown a resolve she had never seen.  Together, they pushed against the heavy branch.  The days and weeks went by and each day they pushed harder.  Though lightning did strike other trees in the area, it had not struck this one.  Together, they looked at each other and realized they might spend their whole lives to no avail.

The girl was the first to break, weeping bitter tears of frustration.  The boy stopped pushing for a moment and grew that little bit closer to her, that he may lend her comfort.  She, feeling safer in his presence, grew that bit closer to him.  They put aside the branch and for the first time in so many days, enjoyed their time together.  They opened their petals to the light from the suns rays that little bit more, stretched their leaves and allowed the summer rains to wash them clean.  Bees danced in their blossom, sending messages back and forth between each other all day.  And together, they grew closer.

One day they were enjoying the gentle push of the breeze while soaking in the light when the girl flower looked over her head.  There was no branch!  She alerted the boy who looked up to see a radiant blue sky staring back at him.  As time had passed and their love had blossomed, they had grown closer to each other and away from the branch that had been above them.  They looked at each other and saw their bright future in the sun together.

A couple and their son happen by the flowers one day, and stop when the wife notices the two flowers which had so romantically grown around one another.
”Oh look at these flowers!” she remarked, clasping her hands to her face.  “They are in love, just like mommy and daddy.”

The child rolled his eyes and ran to the tree nearby to climb it.  He had gone no higher than the first branch, the branch that had troubled the flowers for so long, when his father instructed him to go no higher.  The boy was quick to complain.
”But Dad, I can climb to the top!”
”Those branches are not safe!” his father said.
”They are too!” replied the boy.
This exchange continued for a while until, after a spirited point, the boy’s weight broke the branch and both tumbled to the ground, missing the flowers by inches.  The father, feeling vindicated, repeated his point to the child and promptly comforted the boy, feeling the lesson had been learnt.  But as the boy nursed the pain in his backside, he felt the urge to right the wrong this tree had done him and to one day return to climb to the top.

The mother, on the other hand, had been greatly concerned as the branch narrowly missed the flowers she had been marveling at.  She threw a look of scorn toward him.
”You nearly damaged these beautiful flowers, please be more careful!”
The child shrugged, his face still creased in pain.
”They’re just flowers.”
”They’re not just flowers, they’re flowers in love,” she spoke to him slowly.  “And you must always protect true love.”
For the second time, the child rolled his eyes, while the father’s widened.  An idea had struck him.  After his wife walked the child ahead, he ripped up the entwined flowers from the ground and placed them in his coat.  As his wife seemed to love the flowers so much, she would surely appreciate being given them as a gift, he thought merrily as he returned to his family.  He was, then, quite surprised when his wife’s reaction was one of anger.  It seemed to him there was no pleasing some women.

And as the flowers felt their world uprooted and life slip slowly away from them, they stared at each other, remembering the life they had shared, hoping their children would find their own version of destiny and to not be defeated by the struggle.

And once again the wife was moved by the flowers’ gentle grace, even in death.  Seeing the love they shared reminded her of the love she and her husband had shared those many years.  She forgave him his transgression and smiled.  The husband, puzzling at the mysterious currents of his wife’s mood, was relieved to be back in the favor of such a beautiful, complex creature.  He stood slightly taller that day and all the days after that, and together, they grew closer.

Popularity: 5% [?]

The Artist’s Struggle


2010
01.09

In the process of every artist’s life, he or she must ultimately come to terms with his or her own self.  When we create a world in our art, we do so by grasping the world around us.  It’s why the artist is observant.  He looks at things that others don’t notice and reflects it back to show the others what they were missing.  Some skip this step entirely and go straight to the next, harder step which is to look within.  When an artist is able to do both, he or she has stepped out of existence for a moment to depict, with clarity, the inner and outer truths of our lives.

Inner_Universe_by_algenpfleger

Every artist must pass through both challenges. How accurate they can be at then displaying the result depends on their technical skills. But technical skills will not suffice unless the artist has revealed something of our human potential. Nobody would be pleased if, after all the buildup, the joke your friend has been telling you for the past hour has a lousy punchline. The artist must use their technical skills to reveal an unknown truth or to illuminate a known one. This is the artist’s struggle.

Popularity: 5% [?]

Sticking Points


2009
03.01

Geniuses are just those who have no sticking points. Their engines are running smoothly at full capacity. Us non-geniuses have sticking points which stop our engines running. If we can clear these, we will be able to become geniuses ourselves, roaring ahead with an unencumbered engine.

‘Mental Block’ by Elif Ozkoc

Inspiration is just a momentary clearing of one of the blocks. Drugs, alcohol sometimes allow us to temporarily clear these blocks, but we must find a way to clear them permaently by a study of their underlying causes.

Imagine something you do well. Maybe you can hit a tennis ball well, maybe you can peel apples or maybe it’s just wiping your own ass. Actions we are good at run smoothly from start to finish, as soon as we have the inclination to instigate them. A geniuses process is the same. A genius writer might turn his mind to create a new play. His mind will leap to selection of a striking idea to base his new play on. He draws from his experiences and chooses an idea that stands out. He then relishes in selecting an appropriate scene on which to display that idea, a scenario that would show all the qualities of the idea. His mind dances around it, a dreamlike fantasy as he composes places and characters, all the while drawing from his experiences to flesh out the scene. Having shaped the story in his mind, he then sets out to write it down, to play with words, searching out the right one in an instant. In his mind, there is no effort. Everything is balanced and has no weight. His mind is free from doubt, just as your legs are as they walk along. Just as you could stop walking at any time, or change course or break into a run, this genius writer’s mind is free from the fears, doubts, worries or shames that would silence or crush his ideas. Writing, to him is a pleasure.

To me, and most of the world’s other writers, we find ourselves blocked at various stages of the process. To clear these sticking points, we need to examine ourselves very hard. We must look into our own psyche and find the fears, doubts, worries we have had, the automatic assumptions that we have made which shut down our engines. For some of us, it may just be a lack of knowledge. Even the genius may need to expand his knowledge and experiences to flesh out his idea.

Acquiring knowledge and excorcising demons are all ways to convey our ideas. And conveying our ideas is just one more way of communicating a part of ourselves to the universe.

Popularity: 18% [?]

An Important Lesson


2008
12.23

Now, for a special treat: The first three videos in my new series: An Important Lesson

Videos made courtesy of xtranormal.com

Popularity: 12% [?]

Xtranormal


2008
12.19

Ok wow. I just came across this amazing site called Xtranormal, which allows you to write and produce animated movies instantly! Yes, you heard me. Control the characters, put the words into their mouths and then shoot the movie. It’s a writer’s dream. Take a look at animated Jean Claude Van Damme quotes:

I said in the last post that stereoscopic imaging is the future. Well, this is my very immediate future. Expect lots of videos involving foul-mouthed cartoon characters. Stinky Willy for example:

Popularity: 20% [?]

The Skies Above (Part Zero)


2007
03.01

It had taken dozens of years and millions of dollars, but it only took a second to fail. As the Admiral pushed and then hit the button, the realization dawned on him, as it would soon the rest of the world soon after, that this was never a war at all. This was no more a war than the flower might wage war on the hand that plucked it out of the dirt. They had nothing but their hands and those pathetic weapons their meager grips would afford them. Their guns, bombs and rockets utterly useless. Their defences, their hopes, their arrogant notions of victory, all gone, vaporized by an enemy seemingly without limit.

And that feeling! The desperate need to rest, to surrender and give in. But which had come first, the loss or the despair? The proud men the general had seen, unified in defence from the four corners of their blue and green orb, glistening with medals and pride. How they had suddenly fallen, every strength they displayed defeated and lain bare in turn.

And now, as he slammed his fist against the button one last time and slumped onto the floor, he felt nothing but defeat, of his post, his army, his kind, his world. Defeat, sudden and total.

Popularity: 6% [?]