15 Minute Journaling: Don’t let fear get you down

June 8, 2014 / Ajmorse / 3 Comments

I need to do some writing, so what am I doing? I’m sitting here doing everything but that. I’ve painted my fingernails, I’ve gotten on Facebook – I’ve even read a few other blogs here on WordPress, including some of my own posts. Then why aren’t I writing? What am I afraid of? I thought I’ve gotten past all this.

Me, being silly!

I guess the fear was this: What’s the point of writing if its going to turn out terrible? Well, that’s not the point is it? The point is WRITING.

All things writing. Write, write, write, write, write!! Gahhhh….Now why am I sitting here staring and fearing the blank page?

In all things in life you can’t let fear let you get behind, and that includes writing.

I’m even sitting here with my new headphones on (a nice birthday present from yesterday, woo hoo!) trying to drown out the world, and FOCUS.

Hmm…okay, let me visit my book shelf and see if I can scrounge up some writing prompts. That might help.

A few weeks ago at the Barnes and Noble, I found this book: A Writer’s Book of Days: A spirited Companion & Lively Muse for the Writing Life by Judy Reeves.

It’s basically like a writing devotional. It offers you daily writer prompts, as well as lessons for each month on writing and how to improve the craft. I have a tendency to over think some of the writing prompts – actually now I’m starting to realize that I work best sometimes with a challenge. It’s okay to take the prompts where you need them to go.

It is fun sometimes to see how creative you can get. Instead of just one word or one sentence to get the creative juices flowing, lets try about five of them.

Here are the prompts for five days in June from June 6th – June 10th:

June 6: While the world sleeps

June 7: I have a confession to make

June 8: “There is a place somewhere called Paris”

June 9: Across the railroad tracks

June 10: The place where wild pines grow

15 MINUTES ON THE CLOCK….GO!

“There is a place somewhere called Paris,” she told me with a flick of her blond hair as she started reapplying her lipstick. She squinted at herself in the tiny blue compact mirror and then smacked her lips loudly. “They say that everyone walks around naked, I’d like to go there sometime.”

I eyed her smooth body, the tan legs and free arms, the way her hips curved over her jean shorts. “I bet you would.”

“Don’t be an ass,” she snorted as she put her make-up away. “It exists somewhere out west they say, across some railroad tracks at some nudist colony. You know, the place they say where the wild pines grow.”

I couldn’t imagine her anywhere surrounded by naked people, much less trees as a walk through the park seemed too much for her most of the times. She hated the squirrels that scurried down the trees, she hated the babies that cried on the playground, sometimes I think she even hated me.

I was her boyfriend, too. The one she was supposed to love – supposedly.

“I have a confession to make,” I breathed into her ear as I wrapped my arms around her thin frame and crushed those curves against me. “You’re beautiful.” I kissed her neck. “You’re sexy.” My hands trailed down her hips. “You’re lovely.”

She laughed a cruel, sarcastic laugh, and pushed me away. “Please,” she said with her hand on my chest. “Don’t make a fool of yourself.”

“I didn’t want to be here anyway,” I muttered. She’d taken me for a drive, and then had parked on the side of the road across from the local park. I could see pine trees and several screaming kids running towards picnic tables as she’d put the car in park. The air tasted fresh on my tongue, was cool and fresh in my nose.

Then she’d uttered those dreaded words as she turned towards me. “We need to talk.”

We walked hand and hand for about two minutes and then she pulled away from me. I could see the coldness in her posture, the way her body seemed to be trying to avoid me. She adverted her eyes, pretended like she was crying. But I knew she wasn’t.

“You live in your own world,” she continued then. “Like, everyone else could die, and the world could continue sleeping and you would be the one outside of it, like in slow motion or something. Living your life oblivious to those around you.”

God, she was so stupid sometimes. “I have no idea what you are talking about.”

“Of course you don’t. The world doesn’t evolve around you Isiah Crane.”

“It doesn’t revolve around you either,” I said.

“This is exactly what I’m talking about!” she cried, as she turned back towards me. “That sarcasm! You’re so God-damned sure of yourself!”

I thought about that. I mean, why wouldn’t I be? I was smart, strong…and intelligent. I was pretty sure I was good looking. I shrugged. “Yeah, I got nothing.”

She started to cry then, loud, horrible tears. “I don’t understand why you’re so mean to me.” I didn’t really understand anything either. How she seemed to use everything but the truth to get what she wanted. She played games. She probably thought: maybe today, I’ll grab his balls and tug just a little bit more. I winced as I thought about it.

I didn’t want anyone tugging anywhere. “So this is it, huh?”

She brought her hands away from her face. Her mascara had left black tracks down her cheeks. “Aren’t you even just a little bit sad?”

I looked out at the fresh air surrounding us, the trees and green grass and water gurgling in a fountain nearby. Everything seemed brand new all of a sudden. I laughed once. “Should I be?”

Character Files: “The Conductor”

May 30, 2014 / Ajmorse / Leave a comment

I’d like to try something new to add on here – I call it “Character Files.” In my struggle to find some kind of story inspiration some time ago, I purchased a book called Writerific II: Creativity Training for writers by Eva Shaw, which offers encouragement, but most importantly, writing prompts for the creative writer.

One such prompt, has a page full of groups of words. Each group of three words is meant to inspire a story, by using each word in a story or situation that you may create. I decided to take it a step further, and as such created – Character Files.

Each group of words inspired me to create a character, someone who may or may not have a story – a character that I could store away in a file with other characters I created, that I could return to and use that character for story inspiration if need be.

There are a lot of word groups in the writing prompt, and I’ve only created a few different characters already. But I was pleased with the different results. This particular example took me to a place and genre that I don’t normally write, but it allowed for some nice practice of sensory images. Here goes…

The words are: pigeon voltage train

“The Conductor”

He is a nobody, tall and willowy with a pale face, and dark brown hair. His back is straight as he sits on the park bench in his navy blue conductor’s uniform, his long legs bunched up in front of him as he reads the newspaper.

Looking at him, no one would know that he’s killed someone and framed somebody else for it, although, he twitches occasionally at every other sentence he reads. His brown eyes squint, his face bunches and then goes straight. Two-thousand volts of electricity frying their way through his veins. It could have been him. The memories eat at him, peck at his brain like a flock of crows.

The sight of the butchered man he killed in the alley late that night. The rain pouring in his ears and over the curve of disgust on his lips. The bastard he caught sleeping with his wife…maybe he should have killed her too.

He smelled the rain that night, and he never smelled anything more visceral. Felt his thoughts mix with the sewage and the blood water that swirled around the man’s body, the man that he killed, a milkman, another nobody. What was so important about this stranger that made his wife take her pants off?

He thought, just once – it was a fleeting thought really – that maybe he should be down in the sludge and the darkness of the alley, too. Let the smell of something putrid, the river of feces, blood and rain water pour over him. Feel the fear of something cold and slimy creep its way across his bare skin. Let it feed off of him for a moment and taste the sponginess of his brain, the holes there, the parts that were missing that tasted brown, like something sweet and rotting. Let blood pour out of his nose and his eyeballs bounce down his face. Let him feel hell just once.

Instead, he swiped at the water on his chin, shook his head like a dog, shivered once, pulled his coat around his shoulders and walked home. The knife he used on the stranger who was defiling his wife, he hid in his cousin’s apartment, still wet, the blood dripping.

The next day, while drinking his morning coffee, he placed a call to his local police department to let them know that his cousin, an alcoholic and a man who occasionally liked to feel up little girls, was in town and that he came around the other day begging for money. His cousin had threatened him with a knife, which the conductor described to the police in great detail. A butcher’s knife, he said and then shuddered with a slight catch in his throat. There were groves and barbs on the blade, the kind that shreds through skin when you use it. Mostly likely cut a man in two. Or remove somebody’s head.

The next day he read the front headline of the newspaper while he sat on a park bench on his lunch break: Child Molester Arrested for Murder. He folded the newspaper carefully and tucked it under his arm. The sun felt warm and soft on his navy blue uniform and he looked down at his shiny, black shoes and smiled to himself. It was going to be an excellent day.

Inspiration in the dead of winter – the beauty of old things

January 1, 2014 / Ajmorse / Leave a comment

It’s snowing here in upstate New York, (which isn’t surprising) and I’m ringing in the new year slightly hung over, but with a positive spirit. This is going to be the year that I’m going to get published! Doesn’t matter what, and doesn’t matter where or when, I will see my name in print in some form of publication and that’s that!

And despite the cold, the winter reminds me that a writer can find beauty in the most stagnant things. I often chaff at being cooped up inside and whine about the air that bites and dries the skin, but some days the sun does come out and you see the snow, white against the trees…

You notice the blue of a frozen lake or pond…find the joy in a bit of gurgling water in a creek…and you wonder why it always sounds louder when icicles are dripping nearby, as if the rest of the frozen woods are holding their breath…

The sun came out the other day and I was able to go out walking and took these pictures. In the ravine next to my house, there is an old junkyard. And where there is an old junkyard, you will find old things:

Like the hood off a 1950 green Buick that my father says he remembers having as a child.

I was inspired by an article I saw that showed the beauty of abandoned places, how old things feel haunting, have a sense of mystery, a story of their own to tell.

Walking in the woods, I often find inspiration in the beauty around me, the sights, the sounds, the fresh air and blue sky. (This might also be why I love fantasy novels so much.) But inspiration is all around us – even in the dead of winter! You just have to open your eyes and see it!

What inspires you? Share something if you got it! Any New Years resolutions anyone?

What’s up buttercup? Copywriting?! Freelancing?!

August 29, 2013 / Ajmorse / 4 Comments

Just got a notification that informed me that a year ago, I joined the wonderful world of WordPress!

Although I don’t have the thousands of admiring followers I would love to have, I’ve been thinking about the other benefits that blogging has done for me over the year:

Firstly, I’ve learned about blogging. Everyone has their own voice. And although I am still developing my own and learning as I go, I’ve learned it is very important to keep your posts to the point and accessible to everyone.
Don’t ramble if it’s not necessary and remember that everyone has the attention span of a peanut – it’s not very big.
Attract those readers with pictures, catchy phrases and good quality writing. Make them excited about what you’re writing, get personal with your readers.

Me! Aww…

Essentially you are selling yourself to your readers and that’s another thing I’ve learned over the year:

How important it is to market yourself as a writer.

It’s important to sell yourself to your readers as much as it is to make your writing readable. Show this through your writing – through your posts, through your confidence, your ability to be versatile in your writing. Write what you know of course, but don’t be afraid to stretch the boundaries – to learn as you go.

I might be preaching a bit here, but it’s something that I struggle with A LOT and I’d like to take this time to remind myself and anyone else who cares to listen:

Along the way, Don’t be afraid of failure.

Just don’t. It doesn’t do you any good and makes you procrastinate and not get the things done that you need to get done.

And on that note, it’s time to get to the point of this post:

I’ve decided to expand my writing knowledge and try my hand at Copywriting and Freelancing. It’s been something I’ve been thinking about for a while now and for some reason this time I feel serious about it. Going to order my copy of The 2014 Writer’s Market now!

I’m not sure what will come of it, but maybe I’ll get a part-time writing gig! 🙂

Happy writing people!

PS: More posts to come on this new venture of mine – it might change the focus of how this blog started out, but I’ve decided to treat every new journey as a learning experience. There is always room to grow!

Between the raindrops

June 16, 2013August 26, 2013 / Ajmorse / Leave a comment

I sometimes forgot how much I love to lose myself in the setting of a book or a movie, the way it feels to lose yourself in a different world, a character’s emotions – to be swept away and return only when you need to…

when its time to face the music.

But this also reminds me of dreams, which brings me to the point of this post: Last week I had a dream…

No, really I did.

I had a dream that…well, I don’t remember much, but in the dream was music. There was a girl running from something, she was full of emotion; longing, fear, desire…she was running to something and she couldn’t get there fast enough and she was worried that she was going to be too late.

Too late for what? I have no idea. I woke up with a song in my head that matched the beating of her heart and I could not figure out where I had heard the song or even what it was. I had a tune in my head, and didn’t even know if it was a real song.

Well, I heard that song on the radio today, jotted down some lyrics and through the power of google, the song has a name.

It is Between the Raindrops by Lifehouse feat. Natasha Bedingfield.

It always amazes me how a good song can sweep you up just as much as a novel, or a great movie. It is where I find some of my inspiration…and why I don’t always like to watch the music videos that go a long with songs. I like to create my own story.

There just might be something here, too. I can still see the girl running, the mud flying up on her t-shirt as her legs tear across the ground, as cold, water dribbles down her bare legs and her cheeks and eyelashes, mixing with muddy rain and tears.

Can you guess what color I am?

December 24, 2012 / Ajmorse / 2 Comments

Dusk at Binghamton University’s wildlife reserve.

It’s early morning, and I really should be sleeping, but thought I would post my latest assignment from my writing class. It really is forcing me to stretch back into that creative mold and realize just because I’ve been to a few college classes, doesn’t mean that I am the expert that I think I am – sometimes I forget that we writers can get cocky sometimes. 😉

Anywho…the assignment was to describe a color and do this in the first person. (Pretend we are essentially the color.) The bit I wrote was a broad scope of how one color can be many, but I like the phrases I got here:

I am that periwinkle color of a forgotten sweater. I am royal, I am sweet, call me what you want; pop in your mouth grapes, a plum, hanging loose from the vine. I am everything that you want to go right in your life. Find me on the highway, stripped from its owner; a scarf blowing in the breeze. A dark, bleeding sunset, a midnight sky so inky. I am velvet, I am happy beams of ambrosia, lavender, freesia. The sparkle in a raindrop, no larger than a pin-prick. Find me soaring, the color of wind, grey and regal. Find me goofy. A bulky mauve dinosaur that everyone hates. Flowers in a field of straw, choking out the other plant life. Birthed by two colors, given life from two opposites, warm, cold, light and dark.

What am I?

The Boy with the Bread

September 8, 2012September 8, 2012 / Ajmorse / 1 Comment

Been reading The Hunger Games today because I recently watched the movie last night and am struck with a particular scene in the novel: Where Peeta, the bread boy, throws a starving Katniss burned bread from his kitchen.

For those of you who haven’t read the book, I suggest you go read it now. Not only is it great reading, but great writing too! From the first page you are drawn into Katniss’s world, you feel her emotion, and the unrest in the dystopian society that she lives in. (I can’t tell you how much I don’t like that word, for some reason it just irks me.) It is a fast read, but not a read for the faint of heart, certainly.

Anyway, I guess the English Major in me is stuck on the Boy with the Bread Scene and the juicy little bits that scene may or may not represent. Oh, it certainly doesn’t have to represent anything, but I love that it can and that Suzanne Collins isn’t dumb. That deliberately or not, she has created a scene that sums up the heart of the novel, or at the very least a great portion of it and that is:

Sacrifice.

What does Peeta sacrifice when he throws Katniss the bread? Well, he certainly didn’t get hurt for nothing. He was willing to risk injury to himself, in order to be “kind” to help out Katniss, who was someone in need.
His motives? Well, love. He later claims that he’s been in love with Katniss ever since a young age. (Although it certainly takes her awhile to believe it).

And isn’t that at the very heart of the novel? Peeta’s initial sacrifice only goes to emphasize Katniss’s sacrifice; the offer of her own life in exchange for her sister’s at the reaping. It is because of her love for her sister that she sacrifices herself. And other characters experience their own sacrifices as well. It is the love and the sacrifices accompanying them that says a lot about family, about life and death throughout the novel.

Any thoughts? What do you love about the novel? About the characters? About Katniss?

New TV Show: Revolution! Yeah!

August 24, 2012August 25, 2012 / Ajmorse / Leave a comment

Is anyone as excited as me about this new TV show coming on NBC in the fall??

My Dad’s only comment: “Where do they get the bows and arrows and swords from?” Hehehe. I love him.

Finally, NBC’s taking a show of post apocalyptic proportions and presenting it to us for entertainment! (Eh, with the exception of Terra Nova…and we all know how thaat turned out.) J. J. Abram’s involved, so it can’t be too terrible, right? Very excited about this!

As I am an avid TV watcher and lover (of course I am! I’m nerdy like that!) I will occasionally be reviewing some of my favorite TV shows on here. Revolution will most definitely be making an appearance. Also, keep an eye out for reviews of Vampire Diaries, Bones, and Once Upon a Time later on.

I love the summer, but I am excited about the new season of TV starting soon! FINALLY! Something worth watching! Can’t wait!

What do I stand For?

August 23, 2012August 23, 2012 / Ajmorse / Leave a comment

Feeling a tad irritated at life, the world and blogging today so I’m trying to find that song that’s been stuck in my head since last night…

Ah, here it is:

I know it’s not the regular music video, but sometimes I don’t like the them because they change my own personal view of a song, and where’s the enjoyment of that? If I can’t relate to it on a personal level?

Anyway, looking over the lyrics…Wow, they really do reflect how I feel right now: Very disconnected, and very adrift…always the questions that pop up in life: What do I stand for?

Mostly the questions for me now are this: Am I making the right choices? Am I doing the right thing? What’s the right job? What’s the right move? Always the startling questions for a struggling artist…and someone who hopes they are getting everything they want out of life…

“What do I stand for?”

Photoshop update #2: I have abandoned my quest for download and have decided to seek greener pastures: Ebay.

A. J. Morse

Some fiction, some poetry, and a lot of writer's block.

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