Revisiting Old Books

I did a little bit of cringing today, while looking at my old writing. My sister told me it really wasn’t that bad…and I do agree, for the time it was good. The stories I told were engaging, it was merely the old idea I had, where I thought I had to use sophisticated words in my writing. I didn’t use the words incorrectly (thank God), however it gets pretty annoying after a while…like…people don’t actually talk like that.

Oh well…I’d better go. I have some editing I need to do.

The Girl – By O. Ryder

She wished that she could fade away,

Like the petals that decay

And become like dust

Upon the shelves of homes

And through the pages she would roam.

A lingering scent she might be

Amongst secrets of the wardrobe,

or within the old Curiosity Shop.

From each one she would hop,

And find herself on a train

That would run and she’d wonder

If I stay will they notice or remember?

Will my story be told if I hide in the pages?

Shall I be swept away by many imaginations,

Only to lose sight of reality,

And forget how paper cuts once made me bleed?

Then that longing to be evanescent,

Faded along with the thought

And the girl found she’d rather her story was not forgot.



Poem By O. Ryder.

March 16th, 2016.

 

Editing

As you know I’ve been editing the first draft of my novel, and transferring it all from my binder onto my laptop. I’ve realized that I’m able to type a lot faster than I’d originally thought.

I was a bit concerned that because I had been working on this book for three years, that my writing style would be drastically different now as opposed to in the 12th grade. Surprisingly, my writing back then doesn’t make my cringe. Obviously, I’ve learned a lot since then and have made improvements to my style, however so far I haven’t read anything from the first few chapters that has made me grit my teeth. It’s actually fun seeing how different my hand has become…not necessarily the difference in my printing but the words I choose to put on the page, and the pace I create. I’ve found differences, which honestly…are good differences, and then I’ve found similarities. I’m watching myself grow as a writing, by reading over a work that took me three years to complete. It’s really cool.

Anyway, gotta keep this short today. I’ve got to be on the road soon.

Till next time.

–R.

Confidence, Caution and Publishing

Hola,

I haven’t blogged in a while because I was on vacation. I had taken advantage of being able to schedule blog posts before I left. I’m also recovering as I came down with a fever during my vacation.

So…I’m sort of battling with myself right now. I have the opportunity to have my work published in a collection, however, I’m not sure what it is I want to submit and if what I submit will be accepted. I also am uneasy about having my name on my work…as I always write using a penname. I guess I just don’t want people to judge me.

It has to be work I haven’t previously published…and I don’t know if what I have is honestly any good. I suppose I’m lacking confidence. I can only say that I’ve written two short stories that I’m actually satisfied with…and as for my poetry, I’ve been told it’s good. I find that it is sometimes very corny or very depressing though.

I’ve never really known myself to be so…insecure. I just don’t know how I feel about this. I don’t doubt that my work will be selected…it’s just that the work I choose to submit will have a reflection on me as a person, and that is what concerns me. I don’t always write about myself, especially when it comes to my poetry. More recently, yes, I have been writing more personal poems, however they are not under my real name. My nickname is R, yah, but only my family would recognize that.

Perhaps I’m over thinking this…I haven’t actually entered my work into anything since I graduated from high school. It’s been three years. I mean…I’m going to be publishing my novel soon. I’m going to have to publish my work eventually. I just feel…uneasy. I want to do it, but something is preventing me from making a move. Maybe I’m being too cautious?

–R.

Reactions to My Old Writing

I always feel really happy when people react to my poems. Especially my much older ones from when I was around 16. I still get responses from people telling me what they think and its great.

I haven’t posted anything on that website in a long time, mainly because I started this blog and didn’t want my work to be under two different names. It was mainly in case someone claimed I was stealing somebody else’s work, when in actuality I’d just been writing under a different name. That could have become problematic. I have some friends on that website who would rip someone apart on my behalf simply because they know I try hard not to get involved in any sort of drama. They’d do it behind my back too without saying a word because they know I’d protest. At least I know they have my back.

freakingout

Yah, I like that even three, four years later people are still finding my poems and responding to them. It makes me happy and also makes me realize that what I consider to be my “bad” writing has had an effect on people. Like…I’m sitting there going “I rhymed a word with the same word…why? WHY!?” but they’re like “Wow this really touched me. Thank you for sharing.”

Try not to think that because your writing is older that it isn’t any good, or worth looking at. It can help you grow. It shows the techniques you’d been using before, and you can compare it with how you are writing currently. For example, I used to try and use a lot of description, now I like to use a lot of dialogue. When I read my older work, I’m actually impressed with the way I described things but also annoyed at how detailed it is. I wrote something like,

“The bricks of the wall were a mustard yellow colour. The charcoal pavement looked strange up against the yellow bricks.”

I’d look a lot like this:

zonedout

Yah…a thirteen year olds writing versus a twenty year olds. Same person…very different writer. I’ve never actually disliked my writing style. I’ve always been good with dialogue…but like man those descriptions were just sad. They were sad. I don’t know how else to describe them. They did nothing for the passages. They had no purpose. I just always felt like I wasn’t writing enough. Now I’m like “Okay end of chapter. Onto the next!” without questioning myself.

I would encourage everyone to go and look at their older work. Even comparing what genres you used to write is hilarious. I used to pretty much write the same two stories over and over again when I was little until around the 7th grade. Scenario, there is a kid (or group of kids) and they save an animal…or multiple. That’s the story. Some times it was talking animals saving other animals. I was one of those little kids that really liked animals. Yep…now I write about people. And I don’t use the same names over and over again. Like Jordan and Karen and Mac and Emily.

Mac and Emily are very, very famous characters of mine. They have three books and two were bound by my teacher in gr. 4. There are even pictures. And yes…they save the animals from bad guys who are trying to ship the animals off to another country to sell them.

Karen and Jordan also saved the animals from a ship that was trying to sell them to another country.

I wrote them in the same grade. Don’t judge. I wish I had them here with me, because I’d scan a page to show you what I mean.

And there was that story about the baby owl that lost its family and was raised by a human. I wrote that for my brothers birthday when I was maybe in first grade? I used to steal a needle and thread from my moms sewing kit and sew the pages together.

…I wrote so many stories as a kid how did my parents suddenly think I was a weirdo when I wrote six novels at 13? Guess its because I carried my notebooks everywhere and fell asleep with them in bed aha…yah. Good times. Don’t recommend sleeping on a binder. It’s cold and uncomfortable. Also you risk ripping pages.

This is longer than I expected it to be.

I have work to do including chores so I’d better go.

— R.

Break

I just finished my midterm exams, and I’m now on my long-awaited break. I’ve seriously needed this…I’ve been under so much stress lately, it’s been effecting my health. Now I have this time at home to catch up on sleep, do my homework and get myself back into my usual schedule. I’m just glad that I was able to write my exams without completely losing it. I haven’t slept well in about four weeks….these last two nights I’ve slept like a baby.

So, I’ve been doing character designs recently for one of the novels I’ve been working away at. I’ve found it really relaxing lately, as I was so focused on writing essays I didn’t really get the chance to do any of my own work.

Anyway, I’ll try to post some more while I’m home. Hopefully I start to feel better. My stomachs been bugging me all week…not sure why. I did have a fever a while back and some people said that it hits you, and then the bug comes back once you think its gone…so I’m just praying that it isn’t coming back because I’d really like to do something this week other than lie in bed.

Till next time,

— R.

Up Late Reading

It seems that I have a fever. I guess staying up till two in the morning wasn’t such a great idea. Especially on a school night…but I couldn’t stop reading. Even today when I got on the bus I was reading. I kept getting drawn into the pages. I just read and read and read, and I wandered. I almost forgot how much I loved to read. How much books become a part of me. How they heal me, and give me strength so that I might forget for a little while the hardships I may be facing. Hopefully I’ll feel much better tomorrow. Hopefully with each and every day that passes my heart will heal…as a story progresses at every page that is turned.

Up in my Noggin

Even when there’s no pen in my hand, or a keyboard at my finger tips, I find myself creating stories of all kinds: the socially awkward boy, who skipped out on prom because he didn’t get a date. The loyal fish. The artist who dropped his sandwich.

Random yes…but all make me laugh, cry and wonder why I spend so much time up in my noggin, versus doing what needs to be done. I suppose this storytelling is a form of procrastination…but whatever, there’s never a dull moment up there. Especially when my thoughts end up with a foreign accent while I narrate, and colourful pictures start flashing before my eyes.

Yep…imagination is fantastic…and yes, I am sane. I just have an overactive imagination.

Hope everyone enjoyed their weekend.

–R.