Well on ym free time or atleast when I get bored I write about either something funny or like a story that would never happen like a monster eating some or something stupid along that line.
I normally write whatever comes to my head. Yesterday, for example, I was walking in the park and a baseball came to my head. So I wrote about it.
I write sci-fi/fantasy. My novel has yet to sell; my agent failed me. Now, I am thinking to turn it into an eBook, if I find the time. Just have to get my manuscript onto my hard drive.
I write what I think. Sometimes I write down things that are happening, and just observe and describe stuff. I occasionaly write decent poetry.
I usually make a connection between two previously unrelated things and ask a question like what if...
Sometimes I write until I find two words, usually an adjective and a noun that I like... sometimes I combine them. For example: hypercrowd Then I write about the hypercrowd! So now they are are waiting for the show to begin. Soon the doors will open, and the man in the back with his hand in his coat will give them a nice surprise. None of them wonder what it will be, because no one ever notices the man in the back. Is it because he has his hand in his coat? Or is it because he remains in the back, through every performance, hidden in the shadows, afraid of the light? Why be afraid of the light? You have a surprise... let everyone know! But then he would not be the man in the back. He would not have his hand in his coat, and he would not have his nice surprise. He would be out there, exposed. There would be no surprises, and everyone would know. How horrible! How utterly mundane and depressing! The more he thinks about it, the more he senses that perhaps surprises make the world. And if surprises make the world, doesn`t he have a duty to keep what he has a surprise? Pondering, he concludes it is better for everyone here that he not bring it into the light... not let it fade or grow old or unsurprising... but keep it well-hidden, alive in the dark, potentially wondrous, potentially redeeming, potentially salvation for the world`s darkest moment. He takes a few steps, takes his hand from his coat. It falls to his side and his walking finds rhythm. The musicians are stirring, the air is electric. He follows the crowd through the doors. THE END
My writing is usually abstract writing... I usually write stuff thats thought provoking... Really deep stuff.
This is the story of one man trying to battle the odds against the largest thing a man could face. His wife, this mans was just ur average man though his wife seem normal on the out side, with there friends, at the movies, though when she was alone with him she drove him like a slave through hard and grooling acts of sex! This may seem to u to be the best wife ever but when u had to go through it 4 times a day every day it was a killer and he was feeling it. This man was on the edge, and today was proof as the strong winds coming of the ocean was threatening to nock him off the 10 story apartment blocks that he was currently standing on staring out into the distance. below him it was chaos there where heaps of people staring up and pointing a woman fainted a child screamed and the police sirens cam blearing around the block racing to stop the mad man from jumping to his death on the ruff and depressingly grey pavement below him. As he was about to take the last step of his life, he hesitated looked around and thought again about ending his life, why should he, he wasn’t the one that should do it, yes he was going to live, just at this moment a hand shoved him of the ledge. As he fell away from the ledge he looked back up and saw the most frightening thing he has ever seen, there standing in a fiery portal was the substance of evil, the devil him self or should I say she, for yes it was a girl and what a girl she was, she was the temptress of fiery might. if lust is a sin this is why, it is her lavish body, large and plumb breasts, round and firm ass and long elegant legs though these only added to the lustrous beauty of her face, the long lashes the flinty green eyes and fiery red hair. As he fell to his death he felt a sudden surge of will to live and suddenly he halted in mid air, the man looked around at nothingness around him and shuddered at the black starry nothing ness around him , then SLAM he smashed in to the soft turf of a forest, he stared around dumbstruck at his surroundings. The forest was a lush green there were all kinds of ferns and plants from vibrant green to a really dark brown. The forest it self was a humming mass of movement from the insects to the animals that where staring at him in a quizzical fashion. They started and ran just as the temptress her self came out of a fiery portal off to the left of a great weathered Greek style stone collum with count less symbols all over its surface. The temptress stepped towards me with the alluring walk of a woman who knows she turns heads. She said 2 words to him “last chance†and then she vanished in a buff of green smoke. As he slowly got up he forgot every thing that had happened in his life, up until he started standing up. What was his name he thought to him self where am I, who am I. As these thoughts buzzed through his head a savage looking man jumbled out of the bushes to his right brandishing a large and threatening spear, the man dressed in clean shining chain mail brought some knowledge to his mind, the word night floated up through his mind, yes this man in front of him was a knight. He started talking to him though it took sometime for the man with no memory to understand what he was talking about then he suddenly understood the language. Who am I, and what am I doing in the sacred forest of the velotaony, of coarse the man with no memory didn’t know who he was or what he was doing there so he bowed and stated telling him that he new nothing! Then the knight suddenly thrust the spear at him at the last moment reversing it so that the but hit hard in the head and he fell to the ground in a cloud of darkness More ideas go through the velotaony land then get in to clan the city people then he will win a war and the devil will clauim him in the end He is sacred night of the velotaony they train him talk about that whilst i dont remember writing this, apparently this is what i write about. when i write that is. hmm. i think theres some jokes there that only i can get so thats why i think i wrote it yeh um the filename was stonedstory.doc
Writing is something I've always liked. Sometimes I write stories, but mostly I just write something random. You see, I've got a diary, but it's not a boring enumeration of what I have done during a day. I just write whatever I feel like writing. Sometimes it's poetry, sometimes my vision on a moment or a situation. It's not that I always write about the same things or in the same form.
I write about music, poetry, mystical experience, higher levels of communication, myth, allegory, parable, synchronicity, and What Is. http://www.giftofgabe.com/
I write a lot of different things. mostly poetry, I seem to have a nice fascination with love, and suicide when it comes to writing.
