15 Minute Blog

Why do I always wait until 15 minutes before the end of my lunch break to get a eureka moment for a good blog idea?

Clock is ticking, fingers are clicking and I’m failing to spell check as I go along, so dance with me as I share my thoughts…

There are so many deliciously crafted journals around, these are a source of inspiration, as I absolutely adore the perfection in which these are presented. I admire the attention to detail, the handwriting, the illustrations, the layouts and such. I mean look at this shit here, look how fucking beautiful it is, how elegant and delightful to the eye.

Now beyond my little corner of cyberspace, out there in the real physical world, I write and create journals of my own, I love shit like Smash Books and Wreck this Journal I collect scraps of papers with pretty pictures, quirky quotes, darling little clips of information and those intolerable motivational quotes, which are Ooh-so-Hispter! Yet it doesn’t stop me obsessively collecting them.

I am inspired by this and that yet in reality, as my mind spews its nonsense across the pages, mind thinking swifter than the pen can write, thoughts race faster than fingers tap keys and instead of graceful artistic perfection…

…Brain Vomit! –  Binder1.pdf Blanks
(Inside the boooook-in-a-blanket. An insight into my messy mind)

 

Anne Harrison 31.05.16

The Boook in a Blanket

In my Blog ‘After the Storm’ I mentioned the curious little gift I lovingly refer to as The Book-in-a-Blanket, and promised pictures…So I’m upholding that promise and posting something cheerful after getting myself all in a muddle over my broken words.

Perfectly crafted by a dear friend (who designed this concept) my Book-in-a-Blanket is a place for all my brain vomit, it is most cheerful, with bright colours and Zombie material. This is my writing companion, my loving friend, my agony aunt and store room for all funky snippets of information.

I’m considering sharing the inside pages of my manic scribblings… Maybe…

 

Anne Harrison 25.05.16

Kill Your Darlings

I’m not going to lie to you… I absolutely *hate* the post I wrote yesterday. It’s a jumbled mess of scattered thoughts without any real structure or argument. I failed at trying to write a comprehensive essay about the rules of writing and my frustration at these limitations (as I see them). Though as usual I could not get my words across, my views were scatty and I skipped from subject to subject without any clear conclusion.

In brief… I suck!

…and you wonder why I will never be published? It’s simple really, as much as I love words and I am forever writing, I simply suck!

I break all the rules, I string together great lengths of words, which really aren’t all that necessary to try and say something, which makes sense inside my head, but somewhere between my mind and my fingers, everything is lost in translation and what I wanted to say becomes garbled in the process.

However, I’m not going to remove my post, I’m going to keep it there, like some morbid trophy, a testament to my frustration. Hopefully one day a lecturer somewhere might come across my work and use this in class as a perfect example of ‘how not to write’ that I expect shall be my ultimate writing claim to shame.

 

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Anne Harrison 25.05.16

 

Breaking the Rules

The Rules of Writing – Why I can never be a published author and why do we feel the need to place limitations upon creativity. PART TWO…

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The Prologue:

Please don’t judge me too harshly, but I had never heard of this Gent before a University class one evening, where these ‘Rules of Writing’ were covered by our lecturer. To appal and alarm you even further, I still hove no idea who he is or what he has written, I remain blissfully ignorant. Perhaps I should be a good little student and familiarise myself with everyone quoted in class, but I’m a little rebel and staying true to my rebellious nature (as well as my blissful ignorance) I can not agree (or understand) these rules laid down before us in class.

 

It was a dark and stormy night:

I love this! It automatically makes me think of Snoopy, or Frankenstein…. However the weather is a non starting point regarding stories. But how does the day start? If not with throwing open the curtains and seeing what the weather is doing? The weather creates atmosphere, mood, emotions… A misty morning conjures images of Silent Hill, bright sunshine can inspire a romantic picnic and a dark and stormy night can create monsters.

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When most people think of Prologues, they relate this to deep classical literature, Shakespeare and the link. Prologues relate to a time and style of writing, which isn’t widely regarded or used today. However, in my mind a prologue, or ‘The Prologue’ I can only ever hear in Frankie Howerd’s  voice, avoid prologues and how would ‘Lurcio’ start his tale? Having said that, even ‘Up Pompeii’ is dated and is a form of comedy which now belongs to another time and style.

Times change, styles come into fashion and slip away again, prologues remain… Should you choose to use them…

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She said, he said, the monster under the wall who didn’t even speak a language … said …

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… Don’t you just love contradictions?! She exclaimed

 

I could continue and work my way through all of these rules, indeed there are some I would prefer to go into detail and the examples I have given so far are only my opinions and a little vague with no academic evidence to back up my words, as these are nothing more than observations. I always found, and still find, the ‘rules of writing’ used throughout creative writing classes to be exhausting and suffocating. Writing is an art, we paint scenes with words, we create worlds with nothing more than 26 letters (in regards to the English Alphabet) it is called ‘creative’ writing after all.

I feel lost with all these rules … it’s like juggling with too many balls … How do you write and remember to keep everything in mind to create a perfect story, when your words are trapped by limitations, restricted by plot structure diagrams and basic spelling/grammar.

 

I can never be published, because I can not take my writing so seriously. I cant even argue this point without going off on a tangent and carrying a measure of guilt for wanting to disagree with professional authors.

However, before this blog quickly becomes TLDR, I would just like to leave this topic with one lingering thought…

… Recently at work I had to print off over sixty different CV’s for business studies, however, I am clearly aware that each and every CV is individual, BUT! Every single CV looked exactly the same, because of the way we are taught to write CV’s they all appeared identical… Is that what we are creating? Clones of ourselves? Clones of our creativity? Clones of our writing? Because that is how we are taught success should look like…

 

I re-posted this tweet recently and thought to myself, if I ever send in any work…

… I’ll print the fucker on Pink Paper!!

 

If you think finishing a script is a great achievement, here is a pile of 2000 unread scripts at a friends office!

 

 

Anne Harrison 24.05.16

 

The Rules of Writing – Why I can never be a published author and why do we feel the need to place limitations upon creativity.

 

The Prologue:

 

Once upon a time there was a middle aged woman who in the midst of a mid-life-crisis decided spontaneously one lunch time to enrol in a University course. Her previous education experience had never evolved beyond a BETC course blah blah blah years ago, therefore University was rather an alien concept and one she considered to be way beyond her intellectual capabilities as well as considerably expensive. Yet our budding heroine ventured forth, blundering her way through evening classes with the delusion that her work was worthy of instant stardom without any real clue what she was doing when it came to writing…

Indeed she foolishly believed that writing was nought more than a jolly good idea and the carefully placed order of words to create an epic tale…

Ohh foolish traveller! Ohh innocent wretch! How mistaken those dreams! How pathetic thy quest! Did you not understand mankind’s obsession to neatly label and categorise even the arts… (For writing is an art) and beyond being boxed up and stored away in a multitude of genres, one’s imagination must also be restricted by a collection of strict and ever ever changing rules, depending on who wrote them and how far up the pecking order they were. These oppressive rules appeared to contradict and confuse our humble would be author, who basically didn’t understand the flourishing tones of academic speak.

But! Onwards she did travel, scribbling notes and pretending to read books written by people she had never heard of, attempting to engage in intellectual conversations, when in reality verbs and adverbs were confusing. A naughty rebellious imp took up resident within her mind, implanting ideas of breaking rules in a literacy fashion. ‘Show Don’t Tell’ became a bane… Hads and Saids and Buts became taboo and heaven forbid if you use more than one exclamation mark per seven part epic novel!!!!!!!!

It swiftly felt as though every published author had directions and instructions for writing, all these rules and restrictions, had everyone forgotten the purpose behind writing? Was there no enthusiasm to weave a good tale under all those layers of Do’s and Do Not’s? … Where was the story in the story telling?

Our little adventurer felt trapped under all these suffocating laws, so with the naughty imp in mind and a total blatant disregard for these ‘rules of writing’ she put finger tips to keys and wrote a cheeky three part story, (links below) breaking every rules she could find, giving her lecturer a headache and consequently falling in love with writing all over again…

 

Anne Harrison 20.05.16

 

The Child of Evil

The Guardian of Evil

The Lesser of Two Evils

After the Storm

I want to try to make this entry my last personal blog, where I share my thoughts instead of my writing, I’ve lost track of the direction this page should have been taking and I have been using this as a platform for my brain garbage.

Having said that, I doubt this to be the case and anticipate that I shall ignore my words entirely, as usual, totally disregarding my current thoughts and getting distracted by other thoughts which pop up randomly to steal my attention.

 

 

2016 has Not been an easy ride so far, in fact it has been a little bit of a bastard. With the exception of my glorious holiday, I have had the sensation of spinning round and round in circles, chasing my tail, waiting for appointment dates, visiting times, more appointments, assessments, cancelled appointments, cancelled assessments, more visiting times and among all that chaos, work – eat – sleep – a wobbly social life and cancelled plans. I shall spare you the details of the chaos erupting situation, suffice to say that as briefly mentioned in Tuesdays post – this regards my Mother’s Health Care.

For the record, apart from my Parents and an 102 year old Great Aunt (somewhere) I have no family – No brothers – No sisters – No aunts – No uncles – No grandparents – No hidden cousins – No children of my own and No husband. So everything has laid directly upon the shoulders of myself and my father, we have had the support of some great friends, but we can only ask so much.

We have turned a corner on Tuesday, we have the support we hoped for and yet this good news came with a price… The painful understanding that there is no form of recovery, nothing but a slow decline to the end…

In some respects this year has been a fluctuation of emotions, normal life scattered with the struggling to mourn someone who is not physically dead.

And that is my own journey and that is also where I need to leave this subject…

 

 

From 12.05.16 Onward…

At Christmas a Darling friend got me a ‘book-in-a-blanket’ (I’ll post a picture at some point to help you understand this concept – which she personally designed) This book has been dreadfully abused by my hands, it has fell apart, lost pages, repaired and utterly loved. I write in this near every day, stick in images and snippets of information. Random crap with no theme or focus…

…So, how is this related to my earlier thoughts?

By writing and going through old notes, my being able to have somewhere to mentally dump all my emotional baggage, my ideas and all the various plots and plans (which never come into being) has been a tremendous way to deal with everything. Even though the majority of subjects scattered throughout the book are hardly related, the process of writing has kept my mind focused on keeping going, instead of getting wrapped up on misplaced grief and suffocating in my own negativity.

Each time I have dipped I have leaned against a good friend or two, who have always kept me upright and prevented my from stumbling into doom and gloom, I would be lost without their support, for they have kept the Black Dog at bay…

… Then I have written, utter nonsense, but I have written!

And that my friends has been my answer, I have turned a corner today, the clouds have lifted and I feel I can move again, breathe again and focus. So maybe it’s time to actually write something beyond my garbled thoughts and create something more beautiful (or tragic) with my words…

 

Anne Harrison 12.05.16