The Coffee Club Review

I find that I write my best stuff when I am out of the house and drinking really nice coffee. I don’t know what it is exactly, but it always works. The better the place and the coffee, the better my the writing.

I don’t do this every day, because, hello, broke! I do the bulk of my writing at home. But there are times when motivation to write just won’t come. Or my mind goes completely blank after writing for a few days in a row. Sometimes I feel like I can’t come up with any new ideas. Most of the time, I am just really bored from sitting at my desk for days on end. A change of scenery will do wonders to any creative type. Actually, scratch that, it will do wonders to any human being out there. Alas, this is not about you people, this is about us, those who’s work is not traditional. Continue reading →

Me Before You*Spoilers*

I just came home like 10 minutes ago. I went to watch Me Before You at the Cinema and for the entire drive back home I was feeling rather subdued. I didn’t cry when the movie ended. I did enough of that after I read the book late last year. I worried the tears will come on the drive back. Some did eventually, but I was thankfully filling up my car with petrol when that happened. I couldn’t stop thinking about Will Traynor and Lou. Would anyone in his position choose to live?

**Do stop reading now if you haven’t read the book or watched the movie. I don’t know how to write this without revealing the plot or the ending. You’ve been warned. SPOILERS AHEAD.** Continue reading →

The Flight of the Hummingbird

For as long as I could remember, I wanted to be something. When I was around 3 or 4, I remember having an oven with plastic plates, cups and food, and I would play pretend with my dad and he would pretend eat everything I made. I want to be a chef, I’ll cook for people because it makes them happy, yes, I want to be a chef, I thought. When I was 8 or 9, I remember writing a story that had come up when I was coming up with a lie to tell my parents about why I didn’t want to do something. I can’t remember the details, but I remember coming up with the story, I had the wildest imagination. I know, I can be a writer and a story teller. It’s fun, and it makes people feel something. Fast forward to a myriad of “I know what I want to be” moments throughout my adolescence and eventually throughout my adulthood.

Continue reading →

We know what we know

 

The words are nothing but a jumble

The heart feels solid

The soul wanders, either searching or escaping

It’s pretty hard to push forward

Continue reading →

Just Undiscovered – Why I quit my job in 2015

Several months ago, I was sitting in my cubicle (a big fancy cubicle on the highest floor in the building where I worked). I felt trapped. I stared at my screen for hours, my mind wandered and I thought the same thing I’d been thinking for nearly a year. What on God’s earth am I doing here!?

I didn’t know how to answer that question. I genuinely didn’t know what kept me going, other than the money of course. I kept hearing “I’m not lost, not lost, just undiscovered” over and over. It was annoying at first, but I finally realized it was from the song Undiscovered by James Morrison. And it was exactly what I felt. I didn’t feel lost, I didn’t feel sad, I just wasn’t utilized. Potential oozed out of me. I worked as a web content and project manager for 4 years, and I was ready to give more but the ridiculous work politics made it impossible. I soon realized that I wasn’t willing to fight any longer, because I wasn’t passionate about my work any more.  Continue reading →

A State of Comatose – Post Nanowrimo

Part of me knew that something like this would happen. That I would shut down after the words marathon my brain had – not willingly – participated in. I had never spent more than a few days writing in a row, let alone an entire month. It was a binge-like behavior. I was binge-writing and coming down from that high was a little depressing, I am not going to lie. It has felt like there weren’t any more words to write, as if my brain had run out of words.

I’ve mentioned this on my blog a few times before, but I’ve never actually written more than 10k words a year. This includes my diary, the myriad of blogs I’ve kept over the years, and any type of personal and recreational writing. For work, I would write nearly 40k words a year. Writing has always been a means to an end, despite the passion I have for it. Continue reading →

I win I win I win

What!??? I did?

HELLZ YEA I did. 50 thousand words. 50k.

My draft is not even done yet, I still need at least 20k words to wrap up the story, but that doesn’t matter. I made a promise to myself, and I kept it. I completed NaNoWriMo, and it was one of the hardest things I’ve ever done. I am very proud of myself, and everyone who participated this year.

Yay Us. YAY US!!!!!!

Tw0-Sentence Story Challenge

C.S. Wilde – Great name btw – is hosting a challenge on her blog, and I decided to join the fun. Plus, it’s a writing challenge, so Hellz Yea!!

Here’s my two-sentence story

She knew how wrong it was to kiss the married man she loved, but she’d been waiting for this moment to happen. Tonight, of all nights, she was just a girl, getting kissed by the boy she liked.

It’s actually part of the novel I am writing. I tried to make it work. Hope you like it 🙂

 

I Write, Therefore I am

Looking back at the amount of journals I kept over the years – not necessarily keeping them filled and fed – and the number of blogs I started – again, not truly committing to them – and how many notes I have on my iPhone and even the old blackberry, notes about my feelings, emotions or experiences, all written down for posterity and a little bit of therapy, and finally, the folder I have on my computer that is called [My Writing], which is filled with word documents of things I wrote. I honestly don’t know how I can look at all of that, and still question my vocation as a writer, and natural attraction to write it all down – do I need someone to stamp it across my forehead in order for me to believe it? Continue reading →

An Effort in Descriptive Writing

In an effort to expand my horizons, get myself out of the house and force myself to get inspired and notice my surroundings, I took a trip to the beach.

I actively saw what I saw, I wiggled my ears so as to test it’s hearing abilities. That’s silly, don’t do it, you’ll look stupid. Or maybe do it, who cares if you look stupid. I tried to identify what I inhaled. I gripped the steering wheel tightly, focusing on the heat coming through and the smooth texture.

I thought about all the missed opportunities, all the things I saw, smelled, heard, touched and felt. Things that are now forgotten.

I arrived at my destination. I paid attention to how I parked the car. How people look when they are driving and finally spot the parking they want. I couldn’t help but imagine a jungle where the survival is for the fittest and fastest. I pushed the thought of the reckless drivers out of my mind, that’s not a pretty picture.

I took a seat at a cafe on the strip across from the beach. I wasn’t dressed for the beach and thought it best to sit back and watch.

As soon as I ordered an iced frappe, which is pretty for a very cold coffee, I noticed the man occupying the table next to mine. Alone. Why is it that men who dine alone seem more charming than a man dining with company? Does his solo status elude to his actual status? He just seemed so interesting to me. He picked up his phone and I imagined his secretary on the other end, confirming his schedule for the rest of the day. After his call, he looked into the same direction, the beach. Was he trying to notice his surroundings too? I really wanted to know what he was thinking. I couldn’t help but watch him watch people as they went about their days.

In my peripheral, I noticed the leaves fall and I celebrated internally, for noticing this happen, and for the welcome suggestion of an upcoming winter. Out here, it still felt like a cool summer. Autumn was merely a suggestion and winter was just around the corner. Winter here feels like a very cold spring; perfection.

Tall trees surrounded the cafe, I looked up to admire them. Practically yellowing where the sun light hit them, and vivid dark green were those in the protection of the shade. I need to find out what kind of trees they are. Their leaves were tiny, I don’t think I’ve ever seen them before. I probably just didn’t notice.

The (big umbrellas) – I don’t know what they are called, they covered the tables that were out of the shade – hung free, hoisted to the ground by weights. It wasn’t windy but they swayed from side to side as if dancing to Adele’s song “Hello”. I mouthed the words and caught myself swaying too.

I sipped from the sweaty glass and frowned when it wasn’t cold anymore. The ice had completely melted and I was barely half way through. Serves me right for noticing my surrounding instead of the drink infront of me.

I wondered about every one that was out on the beach at 11 AM on a Tuesday. I didn’t have anywhere to be, that justifies why I am here. Could it be? all those people are jobless too? That didn’t sit well with me. Surely some of them are tourists, some set their own schedules and some work shifts. Maybe that explains it. Regardless, it felt naughty, like ditching school or calling in sick.

Finally, I noticed that descriptive writing is hard, but it’s so much fun trying to paint a picture with words like a painter or an artist, I’ve never been happier about being a writer and an artist. I feel proud and lucky that I can do what I love, spending a morning sipping a cold frappe at a cafe overlooking the beach at 11AM on a Tuesday.