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Post by piph on Apr 20, 2008 0:39:08 GMT -5
I began writing in my 20s when I thought I'd found something to do, to wake up. I'd kept a journal then. That was my first writing in life.
Later I wrote because I was in love. Then I wrote ravished by love lost. Lives suspended.
After that I didn't write for many years.
10 yrs ago I came back to creative writing, just fooling around, really, I like to write pieces that encode something of this work to awaken that has taken my fancy. Not all my poetry hits the mark. Its a study... in progress.... and I keep playing.
Tell us what inspires you in your act of creative writings?
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Post by OscarWillebeest on Apr 20, 2008 2:25:11 GMT -5
In short: writing, for me, is a manner in which I can express myself without prostrating myself in public.
Even when very young I was ancient, avidly reading, devouring every book within sight, always thinking, always contemplating, always observing, fascinated by human behaviour. Living to the inside, unwilling or unable to share what went on inside of my little mind, unobtrusively squatting in my little corner.
At the age of ten I finally found a way around it, and started to write, and at age 13 I started on my first novel, but never finished it. Then it was letters, always written by hand, with a real pen, and compositions on behalf of my fellow students, for which they had to pay, of course! Still today I am hacking away, reading too much. However, it is probably true that I prefer humans, in the stead of paper!
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Post by rascoeasthaven on Apr 20, 2008 10:31:09 GMT -5
Were time a commodity that I could own I would relish in the pleasure to write all the time.
Unfortunately life happens and reality is the ONE truth that we are obliged to abide by.
Something quite stupid can trigger an idea in my head and most of my writings do not HIT the mark. I get a thrashing from a man who I respect (sometimes) but his insults prove to be motivation to become better.
Only time will tell...
Rasco
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Post by cabernet on Apr 21, 2008 15:37:07 GMT -5
I started scribbling when I was 9 or 10. Silly little rhymes to impress my family. After I realized the ooh's and aah's only last until a certain cute age, I started writing seriously for healing effect at 14, when my best friend died in a car crash. Since then, humanity is a vague dream and my imagination a vivid reality.
And so, words become my life . Words are my life. And people are mere puppets in the creating of my reality. Depending on how good they work.
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Post by grevilman on Apr 24, 2008 3:09:54 GMT -5
I too started writing at the age of 9. My first poem. I have tried over the years to put my hand to other forms of creative writing only to find it crushed by the weight of my incompetence. I can only write poetry for better or worse. That probably describes it quite well as i feel married to my poetry. having gone through two divorces it has only been this writing that has proven true. I have always been a dreamer, living mostly in my head and sometimes a good poem will find its way from there onto paper. Like Oscar I too am in love with the feel of a pen in my hand and seeing blue(or black) inkblood leaking onto the tribal sheet. I write all my poetry on paper first before transcribing onto "Word"
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Post by gemstone on Apr 24, 2008 8:51:22 GMT -5
I used to do the poetry thing myself once.....circumstances of long ago however put and end to that....but I must admit...I have an everlasting love affair...with words...I love twisting them, turning them, playing around with them.. People can can let you down, but words, somehow, always stay constant once they are on paper. What is written is infallible..and can not be denied if signed..
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Post by katrienakatryn on Apr 24, 2008 9:14:51 GMT -5
Got to agree with Gem: "People can let you down, but words, somehow, always stay constant once they are on paper"Started writing when I was 18. Also after a friend of mine passed away in a car accident of some kind. I do not, however, think that I am a professional writer in the making. I use my writing merely as interruption of my mundane routine of a life that I so often collapse in. I do find it interesting how different people interpret each poem in different ways, as opposed to how you initially intended it to turn out. Sadly I have not succeeded in writing non-storylined poems, as yet. Could try harder as I owe it to my very loyal support structure...
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Post by on Apr 24, 2008 13:27:07 GMT -5
At the moment I am writing, to fill the few moments and seconds that the hand of time allows me. My time is now. I will not be granted much longer. And for the past few times I have written all that I could, before the time which arrived today, would take up
Sometimes when writing at such crucial time, knowing that it might be the last, is more than you could ask for. Is the time when you are most inspired?
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Post by jade on Jun 16, 2008 6:13:02 GMT -5
For me, wallowing in words was always obscene, as it simply had another person inside me come to the fore and express. Every time I put my thoughts to paper, and afterwards read what I wrote, t’was like it was somebody else, and not me. I could not be so utterly deranged, it simply HAD to be someone else!!
Throughout my whole life, I realised that it is easier to relate to people when one does not expose oneself through the kind of honesty that happens when it’s only yourself and your pen.
It was like hiding behind a mask, the true self, and then the self that one expect others would like to see.
Explaining the mask: When somebody asks, “How are you?” it simply means—“I really do not care, and please do not try and tell me about your life, ‘cos I really am NOT interested. I am only pretending to be, because that is what is expected from society.”
And it worked for me, well that was, before the monster I created on the inside grew stronger and more perverse than the mask I was hiding it behind.
I lived my life according to what the mask expected of me, and thus made all the wrong decisions. After my divorce – directly linked to my own inability to be forthright and true – I decided to give this creative monster a chance. Only to be scared to death by it and reaching frantically for the mask, once again.
My father (may his soul rest in peace) had this vile questionable natural endowment towards words, and that did not give him any other advantage than dying a lonely death, marking the end of a tormented life.
Well, the monster is on the rampage again, and this time, it’s a battle till the end. It vows to take no prisoners.
And with a quote from Robert Heinlein (1907-1988), I’ll conclude: ‘Writing is not necessarily something to be ashamed of, but do it in private and wash your hands afterwards.’
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Post by distantlight on Jun 16, 2008 8:06:24 GMT -5
I just do it for kicks and giggles, really. When I was 12, my writing got banned for having too much profanity. After that, it was like taking babies from candy.
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Post by jade on Jun 16, 2008 10:13:24 GMT -5
Whaha Distantlight, very sharp,-- 'taking babies from candy' in the stead of taking candy from a baby.
This indicates to me that we have not seen the best you have to offer. A mind like your's should be preserved for centuries to come.
Changing the subject (baby) and the object (candy) is absolutely brilliant!! At first I thought it to be an error, and then I realised your utter genius in this swop.
Well done!!
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Post by distantlight on Jun 16, 2008 10:42:01 GMT -5
It was a very difficult task, to switch those around. I mean, imagine *actually* taking a baby from the candy. Slowly pulling it away. Imagine the pain on the candy's face.
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