The Starling

Be Forewarned: this post includes a graphic image that may be offensive to some viewers. 

As I was on my way to visit my friend Kendal at Sizizis last week, he happened to send me the photo of the starling shown below. His co-worker found the bird, heart removed and laying on the seven of diamonds, positioned on a crosswalk while headed to work. 

Creepy and heart-wrenching stuff if you ask me. 

Despite my immediate repulsion, however, I was drawn in. There is something alluring about the composition of the photo itself; the contrast of reds and blacks, the bright dash of yellow beak, the soft glow emanating from the center. I don't know, but something about this captured my imagination. 

While showering, brainstorming for the writing I wanted to do for the day, the starling's story unfolded. 

While the starling's story unfolded, I realized it was the next step in the short piece David I posted several days ago. 

Writer's Itch

Miller's Facebook status yesterday.
click to enlarge

I've got a slew of stories to write in conjunction with my last post, David.  It feels amazing to not only be in the writing mood, but have inspiration to write from as well. Donald Miller, author of Blue Like Jazz, posted a thought on Facebook that really hit home for me. I felt like it identified exactly where I've been with my writing for the past few months - or perhaps forever - and exactly where I want go instead.

Today, I asked myself what wants to be written.

I've got posts for The Daily Heretic I've been waiting to write and really should. I want to progress the stories related to David, but I got enough of an outline finished yesterday that I can easily come back to it a few days from now. Burnout is an issue I'm learning to preemptively conquer. Though I want it, the story itself wants to rest.

A filming session crossed my mind. Last Fall, Jeremiah and I filmed our friend Forest Child the Distiller concocting a custom recipe commissioned by his tattoo artist. The footage has rested, partially edited, ever since.

Today, Forest Child's story wanted told.

Breaking down creative Walls

Sometimes my husband seriously inspires me.

I often begin stories by recording dreams I've had. Today's inspiration came from a dream Jeremiah (the husband) had. "We went to a certain room in a specific hotel," he said. "The closet was lined with tile. You ran you ran your finger along the tiles and loved them." We paused for a moment to reflect on this. "Love springs the gates of Hell right open. Isn't that great? It's the second time I've watched you do it."

While driving Jeremiah to work at 5:45 this morning, a story began to take shape in my mind. I've been feeling super un-creative lately, like my imagination is broken. So I knew I had to write this down.

As if to confirm, I discovered Jeremiah's Facebook status after completing my shitty first draft:

Click to enlarge.

 
Ain't that the darndest?

Without further adieu, today's shitty first draft:

David

By Kay L. Steele

“The Gates of Hell open as easy as that,” the tiny red-haired girl explained. Against her fair skin, the rose in her cheeks glowed. Her hair hung down to the middle of her back in an intricate fishbone braid; bangs framed and accentuated slightly too large, too green eyes.

Write Or Die

Click to enlarge.

I often use Write or Die when I have writer's block. Today I used it because I was short on time before work. Write or Die is a web app you can purchase or use a free version of. I discovered it during NaNoWriMo last year and it radically changed my writing process.

Using the free version, I set my goal at 700 words, 15 minutes on "Evil, Kamikaze" mode. Once you hit go, a blank writing space pops up, with a timer in one corner and word count in the other. If you stop writing, the screen flashes increasingly brighter shades of red until you either start writing again or the program starts erasing your words.

I love it.

Here's a screen shot from today's effort to progress my NaNoWriMo project, Fire Starter. It's not pretty. That's the point.

Click to enlarge.

Unexpected Experiment

Whenever I've got writers block, or I'm itching to write but can't conjure a creative thought, I think about my childhood. I was a freak, so there's ample material nestled back there. 

This piece is the result of such a time. It was written about a year ago, and went through its first edit today. While editing, I was reminded of how surprisingly experimental the work was for me. 

For the sake of context I'll post the entirety of the writing,

Hope this doesn't skew the experiment.

although I'm sharing for the purpose of feedback on the portion that surprised me - a description of a game of dodgeball. The piece isn't particularly long, but if you're not overwhelmed with free time and want to get to the point, I'll highlight the dodgeball scene so you can skip to it. 

I didn't change much in my first round of edits. Perhaps because the memory is mine, so it's easy for me to picture. Childhood memories are so abstract in such vividly clear ways, though. I'm unconvinced I've given the reader anything like the film playing in my head.