Where do you get your Writing Inspiration?

You can be the best writer on the face of the planet, but if you don’t have anything to write about you’re screwed.
Lets face it, a writers least favourite past time is having a face off with a blinking cursor, but often that’s exactly what we find ourselves doing. (Wait what…? Did I just call myself a writer? I guess I kind of did.. :S Hmm..lets go with extreme amateur writer, that seems a little more accurate.)
There is nothing I find more frustrating than sitting readily at a computer full of proactive excitement ready to write the best prose in history and then stopping short, because hey there’s just one problem. I have no story.

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Perhaps I should backtrack a little. You see, what prompted this spur of the moment post is my Creative Writing class. For my first semester I had to write a 2,000 word short story. I was stuck. Desperately searching in to the depths of my brain I wondered where all my childhood imagination had run off to. I used to have endless ideas zooming around up there but after years and years of not writing anything fiction at all, I felt pretty rusty.  Continue reading

On Dreaming About Books:

This morning I woke up feeling absolutely terrible. I straight away decided that I would not be going to school, or doing anything work related for the rest of the day. But as I was sitting in my bed in all my illness, surrounded by tissues, medication, and my snuggly cat, I couldn’t get the dream I had earlier out of my head. And since my dream was book related I’ve decided to share it with you guys. I can’t believe my love of books has gone so far that it’s now actually breaching my subconscious in the form of dreams!

‘Dreams are illustrations from the book your soul is writing about you’ – Marsha Norman.

Ok here we go:

World War 3 had ended.
My country was in ruins; livelihoods were destroyed. There was panic, fear, and sadness everywhere. So the government stepped in. They put forward the idea of a Dystopian society, promising that with it, there would never be another war. They were smart. They picked their moment carefully. A moment when we were weakened, a moment where we wouldn’t fight back. We’d had enough of fighting.
We didn’t mind it at first. It meant we didn’t have to think too hard.
We just followed.
But slowly, things we loved began to disappear.
Internet sites were blocked, taken down, and censored. Paintings were destroyed because they showed ‘too much self-expression’. Films were discontinued.
They began destroying books.
And that’s when I decided to take a stand.
I came up with a plan. When they came for my books, I was ready.

Continue reading