I know that software isn't entirely necessary for accomplishing this task, but it seems that if I'm going to do this seriously, then I need to at least use serious instruments.
After a bunch of searching, it appears that Scrivener is going to be the software for me, at least for the time being. If anything, it gives me 30 days of use for free, and then I can decide whether or not to buy it after that.
Anyway, that's all for now. It should be done loading now, so I can install it and try to plunk down a few words.
Monday, May 9, 2011
Saturday, May 7, 2011
Fan Fiction
The first story that I remember writing, was a piece of Treasure Island fan fiction. I vividly remember the story coursing through me, although after nearly two decades, I haven't the foggiest idea of the plot.
I do know there were pirates. I also know that my classmates loved it. These were my first thrills as a story teller.
In 5th or 6th grade, I had a scary story published in the local paper, and again, I was just thrilled. I think it had something to do with druids and caves. Beyond that, it was probably terrible. It might be fun to track that story down though. I wonder how I would rework it as a 28 year old. If anything, it might be a spooky look into the mind of an 11 year old.
High school came and creative writing more or less came to a halt. High school English, in my experience was reserved for two tasks: 1) learning how to properly churn out a serviceable research paper. (4-5 pages, double spaced.) or 2) reading classic literature, that while often quite good, had the life sucked out of it by soulless teachers. (Mr. Carlisle, a positive exception.)
By the time I left those halls, the only stories I ever told, were the lies I created to amuse my friends. I shouldn't really call them lies, no one believed them, but people seemed interested in my silly tales of lunchroom monster slaying. Still, I told them with enough conviction, that I think they deserve lie status.
College came and sucked the life out of me, filling the void with arrogance, politics, ales, and liquor. The only time I wrote was when I was crabby, and it was only my silly little opinions. I could write well, on occasion, but it wasn't sustainable, and it brought me little joy. So I stopped.
I've spent the last couple years putting my mind back together in a way that I see fit. In that time, I remembered how I used to love telling stories. I never had the guts to stick with it. This blog is going to be my own little documentary of my struggle to do what I'm choosing to do, after I spent far too long doing things I dislike.
I do know there were pirates. I also know that my classmates loved it. These were my first thrills as a story teller.
In 5th or 6th grade, I had a scary story published in the local paper, and again, I was just thrilled. I think it had something to do with druids and caves. Beyond that, it was probably terrible. It might be fun to track that story down though. I wonder how I would rework it as a 28 year old. If anything, it might be a spooky look into the mind of an 11 year old.
High school came and creative writing more or less came to a halt. High school English, in my experience was reserved for two tasks: 1) learning how to properly churn out a serviceable research paper. (4-5 pages, double spaced.) or 2) reading classic literature, that while often quite good, had the life sucked out of it by soulless teachers. (Mr. Carlisle, a positive exception.)
By the time I left those halls, the only stories I ever told, were the lies I created to amuse my friends. I shouldn't really call them lies, no one believed them, but people seemed interested in my silly tales of lunchroom monster slaying. Still, I told them with enough conviction, that I think they deserve lie status.
College came and sucked the life out of me, filling the void with arrogance, politics, ales, and liquor. The only time I wrote was when I was crabby, and it was only my silly little opinions. I could write well, on occasion, but it wasn't sustainable, and it brought me little joy. So I stopped.
I've spent the last couple years putting my mind back together in a way that I see fit. In that time, I remembered how I used to love telling stories. I never had the guts to stick with it. This blog is going to be my own little documentary of my struggle to do what I'm choosing to do, after I spent far too long doing things I dislike.
Ex Post Facto
ex post facto
adjDefinition of EX POST FACTO
: done, made, or formulated after the fact : retroactive <ex post facto approval> <ex post facto laws>
- m-w.com
- m-w.com
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