'Writers are liars by nature, but just because of that, don't discount us. For it is through our lies that we tell the truth. Our stories become the mask.'

Wednesday, 18 July 2012

The Cordial Evening for Drunken Gentlemen...if you would be so kind, please wear this black mask...

On a prior note so I can get this out of my head. I have, awesomely, been called to attend my next military assessment day in one month.
  Shan't that be exciting? :D It's very bizzaro, thinking that if this all works out, my whole lifestyle and future will change. I want it, but at the same time it is BIG.

   I also wanted to ask you a question, dear friends...how did it feel when you first killed someone? (Blink, blink, stare unnerved back at me as I smile cordially)
  Yess, I asked the question. Heehee, don't worry though I don't mean in actual life, more with characters and writing. No doubt it's vastly less horrid and soul-wrenching as actually killing someone, yet it was a strange time for me. I think, that if you write enough in your life, eventually you start to remember the significant points in both your characters and your own progression as a writer. And it's amazing how far we come and what we grow used to.
  I remember the first character I killed. It was a story based on the islands of the Black Ocean that I attempted to write. It was meant to be a Chronicle and it was a good storyline or premise - based somewhat on the idea posed in Unicorns of Ballinor (which is this coolio five or six part small book collection that I read years ago) - but my character was a king and he was murdered by the villain of the story. For one reason or another I didn't complete that book, but it still stayed with me: that first death, and it actually jolted me a bit when I wrote what happened.
  It's also curious that, every time a character is faced with a really hard decision, you're also posing said question to yourself. You have to work it out as much as they do. You grow with them and eventually they start to advise you.

  It's also hard to say who my first villain was, and in most ways, all of my villains are adaptations of all my other villains I've envisioned or thought of. Probably one of the earliest (in regards to the first story I tried to write as a novel), was a shark in this tale about heroic dolphins, rescuing the entire underwater world and so on. 
  I also, had the peculiar notion and desire with all my early books that they should eventually become movies, and even since then I've always envisioned my stories as movies. I'd have to also say that the stories that had consumed me the most were two:
  The first was a novel called Wolf Story that I got about a quarter of a way through writing before I was convinced in various ways not to write it. But my gosh, I so obsessed over it. I was able to experience many key sections of my novel through music that I planned to use if it ever got to the stage of being made into a movie. I drew all the characters, and planned a movie poster. It was this beautiful story about this outcast wolf who had no voice and yet who was royalty called Relshka. He was the Brother of the Moon as some called him, and he was in love with the beautiful wolf princess Amore. The music added to it all, and basically yeah...sometimes I still think of completing that story one day.
  The second is of course Cara's story: The Golden Dragon Series. Which was the first series I ever completed and kept at despite everything. It runs through my veins, and even before I finished it, I'd dream of the IMA for years when I was younger. Wild, and colourful dreams.

Probably my heart story (which is the one I wrote in one week: which I mentioned in a previous entry here), is named Bidadari. Now perhaps my only problem with said novel is that I'm still having a hard time deciding what exact premise it has. It's complete and I'd say is the closest book I have that's basically ready to be published.
  The other I have completed was my longest written and paged novel called The Society of the Pen. It looks into this futuristic society where the world has basically been destroyed by this event called the Wars of Terror, (atomic bombs), and as a result of this, a percentage of the population who survived gave birth to children who had a side effect. The curse of writing uncontrollably with no memory for two weeks until the object of their writing comes to life.
  The other book I'm working on is a secret, sorry, hushhush. 

  Ah but anyway, enough jabber and I hope this finds you well,

Miss CLScarlett xx

My veins flow with cider,
my eyes dilute with ink,
I wear the coat of doom-laden vice,
and a smirk to be-smirch the dead,
My hat is tall, and my madness reaches higher,
My feet have wings - 
though they've forgotten that running doesn't produce flight-power,
My hand is a mirror, as to laugh at myself,
whilst my scales are dark, hiding away the monster and human within.

(by me)

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