10/28/2005

NaNoWriMo

The National Novel Writing Month this November is a bit of a misnomer isn't it? It's not a national event, it's a voluntary international affair.

But, oh well what the hell, I'm joining it. I'll doubt I make the cut come 11:59 November 30, hell, trying don't hurt does it?

So expect unanswered SMSs, emails and IMs from me. I would be probably be too busy procrastinating. Now I'm lost in proto plotweaving.

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update: I was lost and got out too late...

10/22/2005

Damn rut...

Is it writer's block when you could write but have no compulsion to continue after the first paragraph? Everything written feels like crap.

fiction no.1:
by the blade we live! by the blade we rule! by the blade we prosper!

The shouts were without any sense of weakness. The shouts as promises were sincere.

These are the shouts of those who knew what was expected of them, the hard life that is upon them.

To be sent to the far reaches of the outer sphere is an honour and burden taken by these young.

A thousand bushels per cycle for the house of each selected, a thousand for each that does not return after ten solar cycles, ten bushels for each young that would return after their tour.

Not that it matters very much though, the average income is a thousand bushels per cycle per capita. It is a matter of house honour to send as many young to bridge the gap of the Warp and worked to contribute towards the betterment of the race.

To be one who had stared into the starless eternal night for ten cycles and stayed sane. To understand the insignificance of one's self when looking at the ego-busting sight of the galactic disk. To truly understand loneliness and helplessness when working in a on a one person sentry pod for days.
fiction no.2:
He made the sky his playground, he flew without effort and without any fear of falling.

On the ground was detached from everyone else, for only when gliding in-between the clouds that he felt truly in-control.
there were some more, but not up to standard and/or are deemed not safe for the image of me that I am trying to project to the world (the stories would only justify the suggestion that I am, regretfully a freak) and could harm the sanity of you, my readers.

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I finally made up my mind, my political standpoint is the same as this guy. Just that for different reasons, eluvium's views are because of philosophy, while me, on the hand, due to apathy.

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Hope I'll get out of this rut, write a book, write another, quit my job and father a son. ktnx. Bye.