Why Does It Sucks Knuckles...

Why is it that I can think a helluva of images of my story, create really good ideas and scenarios, so on and so forth, but yet issues on piecing it together into a workable draft?

 

Geez, I'm stuck in mental storyboard mode.

 

I need to be permenantly stuck in typing manuscript mode!

 

Or whatever you wish to call it when put your story down for others (hopefully) to read!

 

Like the blog title says: SUCKS KNUCKLES!

 

Eeeeek... The HORROR *hides in the dark corner twiddling her thumbs while banging head up against the wall singing Johnny Cash songs in reverse*

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Oh lord... I'm a numb-knucker blogger that hasn't BLOGGED a knub in fo'ever

Quicko, memo! Indeedo, I've been BADDO! As shown in previous posts, it looks like my brain is all over the fracking place. And then.... STATIC... SILENCE... Natta a word from little OLE moi!

I'm still interested in my writing. I'm concentrating solely on one project, science fiction of sorts. But I'm only in the development stage, meaning I ain't writing any of the story down in draft form... In a way I'm kinda procrastinating while inadvertently psyching myself out. My OCD and perfectionism issues kinda prevent me from writing by the seat of my pants... If I'm gonna write the story down I'm gonna make sure I know what's gonna happen in every scene... No gaps, no hang ups, no surprises, no voids, no distractions that will cause me to stop and reread everything and psyche myself out some more (hence what I meant by my OCD issues). I want my story to be challenging and fun to visualize in my head. I want it to read out the way I, as an avid reader, would want a story to read out!

So... I'll try to improve as a writer and blogger!

The lapse in posts are because I've spent the last couple months trying to clear up my bad health. And in that timespan, I got massively addicted to reading lots and lots of books... OH MY FRACKING GOODNESS... Yummy goodness books! Though I've spent too much time reading stories than trying to write any... Yeah, I get distracted easily but only when health is off its kilter!

I try to be a good person. Definitely don't wanna be thought of, AS EVER, a flake and FAKE! Person whose all talk and no play, blowing boring ass smoke up everyone's keister!

Hopefully when judged by all, my final review of me as a whole is slightly more in the positive field!

Off Topic: Political Upsets... told from DracoGem's Perspective

This image [above] has been quite recognizable lately, even by teenagers... who'd probably wouldn't even know how to be politically correct or incorrect if those very notions were harpooned at warp speed directly into their cerebral cortex (or whatever, sue me, I ain't got no medical degree thingie asshats, so chill and give this soul sista a break!).

Below is a statement, originally posted on Facebook, that was sparked by that very muppety image [top of page]:

Just like I was telling people Obama didn't have a chance on coming out on top by the end of his first term. He had to stop a war, wipe out major threats, try to fight against congresses possessive and aggressive pull and attempts at pulling all the strings, rigging any outcomes to their liking, and controlling and resculpting a nation that suited people more the likes of them than letting it be a successful, fair, and great nation that it had originally been intended for! Last couple decades we've forget those values or at least lost focus on it and sorry to say, got a little lazy! I think if we had really allowed freedom for every soul that first walked and claimed the dirt of this land we call America (though Native Americans lived the land for centuries, just being politically correct... But I digress), we would be in better standing today... Instead European prejudice and injustice carried over the ocean and declared several groups, deemed too "unsuitable", were to be left out of the final Freedom Run from prior tyranny!

That's what I got to say! I don't ever like to disrespect any President! Even if I didn't vote for him, he's my President. And though I don't follow blindly, he automatically gets my attention and benefit of a doubt! Trust me, I disliked Bill Clinton to the utmost passion at the core of my soul... But I respected him and still do. Obama gave me hope when he went into office. I know of many others who think that's absolute crap and might even want to disassociate themselves from me. I don't agree with some of the things Obama did but a lot of what he did, what most Presidents handed disintegrated country, he had no choice but to do or felt it was the thing to do at the time. And as Donald Trump would probably say, "It takes money to make money!"... It's gonna take a lot of destroying, a lot of breakdowns, messes, and failures before we start righting up all the wrongs that we let bring us down! Trial and error, it's a bitter sweet lesson but its something that is always well-learned!

 

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CHAPTER ONE COMPLETED... WOOT WOOT!

Well, I'm knocking the hell out of all the wood that's within my reach hoping that by simply saying "CHAPTER ONE COMPLETED" that I haven't jinxed myself and allowed this to be the only chapter I will ever complete. Though I do this dreadful feeling, a panic perhaps, thats bubbling up inside me saying 'I won't ever come close to finishing it or finish anything I set my mind off too from now on'. I hate that. I really do. It just seems so hard to put a complex set of storyboard thoughts into words. Of course as I'm typing this, my fingers are just flying away across my keyboard since I'm writing from myself and not writing for character. How do all my favorite author's and authoresses do it? Its why I will never put myself up there with all my favorite writers since I know that nobody can be like them. I can only be as good as allow myself to be if I just give myself a damn chance. I'm trying, honestly I am. Just not easy with the weird life I led, constantly being told I can't do this, I can't look like that. I'm not pretty enough. I'm not skinny enough. I'm not smart enough. I just don't have the right stuff, the right leads, right contacts.... the RIGHT ANYTHING. Its amazing what you have to have to get anywhere or get anything in this world. Almost makes you wanna question why living is such a big deal! Society sure does know how to make downers out of its citizens!

I'm working on it... Honest!

Damn, I sound and act like a freaking anti-social sometimes. I don't mean too. I'm serious about writing and anyone who knows me knows that I'm also serious about reading books. They are, after all, what I'm trying and hoping to make my blog all about. It's about all I want to talk about these days. But the heat from summers just take so much out of me. I simply don't tolerate it well. You see, I live with epilepsy [Visit http://www.epilepsy.org for more info on the neurological disorder that plagues millions around the world]. For me, my seizure triggers are heat and stress. Heat in both body temp (fevers no good, bad evil little demons they are) and environmental surroundings contribute to the easy to set-off trigger... TRIGGER HAPPY SEIZURE MAKER... And since we're dealing with the brain and basically the self-electrocution of itself (it's simplest way to describe epilepsy), it messes with the emotions and hormones, so epilepsy in women are far more severe. So emotional issues, stress in other words, unfortunately just come with the seizure territory... It often can't be avoided. You'd be surprised the amount of young people in therapy groups who have depression or stress disorders are in fact suffering from epilepsy as well.

But despite all this, I am trying my best. I do have my support team of friends and most importantly, family. In the writing world, I am being pushed (nicely, constructively) by my friend and fellow storyteller, W. Andrew Mullin. So keeping all fingers, toes, and eyes crossed!

Keeping faith in myself. Even if most of the outside world doesn't.

Off-Topic: I've been reading loads of books lately, which best explains why I'm not getting much writing done. But I feel it is my duty to suggest a few damn good books.

 

First off:

The Scourge by A. G. Henley ... Oh, goodness, it's damn-damn, double damn-damn good book. It's post-apocalyptic story though you don't feel your reading a book based in the future. You are simply reading a book about survivors and their way of working around their fears. You will fall in love with the characters. And you will enjoy it. I guarantee you that! Please read it.

 

Easy by Tammera Webber ... This is pretty good. The dialogue is catchy and funny. And extremely intellilectual. This book, with its characters backgrounds and knowledge, required someone who could do more than just write a book about a girl meeting boy and falling in love. Its a little steamy so if you are a prude-minded person, this book might not be the one for you.

 

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Robotic Idea

Here I go with my writing and showing its conception to you right here, right now... How 50 Shades of Gray of Me... Though ironically enough, I'm writing it from my bedroom. If I actually have any actual followers following and you read two previous entries ago, I said I needed to get the hell out of my bedroom more since it should be only used for its only intention... To bedded in (amongst many other sinful lustful things purrrrr MEOW)... Mind you what you are about to read will be utterly first rough draft material so don't whip out the nasty "Get a real day job missy and stop wasting my oh so precious Internet minutes that I could have been using watching porn in my parents basement while making minimum wage at burger hut on Main St and Central..."

"I'm broken." I said.




I was taught to act and talk like a robot. So to simply say, I'm hurting, for whatever reason for, my conditioned response was always "I'm broken". The reason this time I was broken this time around was that my eyes ached something as I was practically dragged out of the cellar, which I only came to find out just moment ago was called by the very people dragging me. They called themselves the "Police".





It was always brighter upstairs than in the cellar. There had only been one little light in the center of the room in the ceiling. When it was working that is. Either they, my owners, turned it off to punish me for crimes I committed against them or the light just blew out suddenly I guess from being left on all the time. Many times in the past I had heard my owners yell to each other upstairs, after the the light went out, 'why the hell did ya not pay the goddamn electricity. Goddamn it, useless'. That was always my owner Cecilia telling her husband Freddie that.




I was only ever brought upstairs though to use the shower up there since all I had in the cellar was a toilet. Never really saw much of the rest of house since the upstairs bathroom was only feet away from the exit of the cellar door. The bathroom too was always brighter than the cellar. But I guess just about everywhere would be brighter than the cellar since I spent my whole known life in it, with the exception of coming up for my showers, which I so loved since I never felt like I ever really clean...




To be continued...

 

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I have been bad... Oops says I!

It's not that I haven't had anything to say. I haven't been avoiding. I haven't been ignoring. It's just been weird and stressful time. I know that I have the creativeness to develop in the storytelling world. I have the dreams to succeed or at least enjoy permanently vacationing in a literary universe. But what the hell stops me? All my favorite authors, both independent and professionally published alike, have of course succeeded to hurdle over the obstacles that writing a story/book usually provides. I'm not trying to be the next "Them". Who knows what I could be capable of. But I'm fed up with this completely unlife-like existence. I don't want to go out and travel the world (well, I do sorta want to but right now just USA), sleep with thousands of people, dance my nights away at the most trendiest clubs... I know some wish for some sort of life that's exciting and gives one the most salacious bragging rights. But I don't just want to stick myself in my room and waste away. I'm trying to find what this rut is that I am in, lace it with some nasty c4, and blow the sucker into another dimension. Just any place outside my room... A bedroom should just be what it's suppose to be built for, to be bedded in... Only! I got the imagination. I see it everywhere I go. I can look at the most simplest of objects and imagine a story from it... Modern day Scheherazade... Well, slight version of her!

 

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