1.6.1 This Journal is...

This Journal is…

A project. A goal. A beginning. I have to be able to dedicate time to writing and developing my skills. To eventually write a novel. Or three. Even if they’re never published, even if no one likes them. Even if Matt thinks that they’re garbage. I believe that this journal can serve as a marker, a starting line, a jumping off point for my inner creative spirit. Crochet is a physical exercise of expression, but I want to build something more ethereal with words, and this is where I’m starting from. And I will not allow myself to turn back.

1.1.12 Dream

Dream

I had a dream that I can’t remember anymore. It was so vivid and colorful, full of ferocity, heartache, tragedy. I wish I could remember it because it would make a wonderful story, one that I could write and develop and study until I captured the essence of the dream, and found the story that I’m meant to tell.

It’s happened before, the dreams, not the storytelling. This was all long before writing became a goal, a hazy, fanciful flirtation that has now developed into a fully blown rose, serious and sensual.

Goals always seemed like such dry, practical, unimaginative things to me, so imagine my delight in discovering that they can be fantastic and wonderful in the truest meanings of the words.

Alas, it faded too quickly for me to capture, too quickly for me to even consider jotting it down. And now I must wait until it visits my dreams again.

1.1 Story Ideas by Anna Rae

SLAM!
POUND!

"GAH!" The yell of frustration awakens the cat, who glares and saunters off annoyed.

SLAM!
POUND!

"WHY CAN'T I THINK OF ANYTHING!?"

SLAM!
POUND!

The maker of all this noise finally stops slamming his notebook and settles in his comfy, black, rolly chair. The man also known as William, is not an extremely good looking man, even when calm. His hair is his best feature and his eyes are his second. The rest is forgettable. However, along with his golden hair and chestnut eyes, his mind is sharp and his writing hand even sharper. A man like him can be found in a local coffee shop or sitting on a bench at a park looking fashionably bored. His clothes make poor men weep. For one that normally has a cool reserve, why is he freaking out? Why did he annoy his cat with all the slamming, pounding, and hollering?

He has gone where no writer likes to be...where writers quit and the weak perish...

Writer's Block Central.

It is a place where story ideas can not be found. Where story ideas are lost. Where story ideas do not flourish and wither and die. One might call this place the cemetery of story ideas. Every writer has stumbled here before. William, though, never has. This day is the first day and he seems to be struggling with this fate...this poor writer. This really must hurt William's pride.

William rubs his eyes and looks out the window in dismay. He must be torn up in the inside. He lets out a huge sigh. After a moment or two, he pulls out his cell phone and shoots a test to his friend and fellow writer. The name of the friend is Yvonne. He sits and stares at the phone. More then likely he is waiting desperately for a response. 

Finally, it cones. It reads, "Calm down, William, it happens to everyone. Come over and we'll clear your mind."

William allows a half-smile crawl to his face. He is obviously pleased that Yvonne will aid him in "clearing" his mind, so his story idea can be formed. 

1.1.6 Fantasy Conversation R.D.

One last conversation with my dad?
No.  Because the deep down and honest questions I want to ask I am not allowed to bring up.

A job interview for the perfect job in the perfect place?
No.  Because I don't even know what my dream job is.

Oh!  I've got it:

"We are here today with Samantha Peters, better known by her pseudonym Reece Darlene.  The author of the best selling novel, "On the Rocks".  Welcome, Samantha."
"Thanks for having me."
"So, first and foremost, what inspired you to write this unique and provocative novel?"
"Real life and bad relationships."
Applause.
"So was everything true in the book?"
"Oh no!  Ha ha, there were parts that were true, but most of it was just projection and exaggeration."
"Interesting.  What made you willing to share such intimate moments with the world?"
"I feel life is meant to be shared.  Honestly, I can only start writing based off of something I know.  I'm not a person who can pull a plot out of thing air."
"Well you did a great job formulating one Hell of a storyline."
"Well, thank you."
Additional comments made, perhaps and excerpt read.  I blush with excitement and anxiety.  Then in an act of god, an up and coming move producer confronts me about making my book a movie and I nearly faint.