Brand
10-26-13, 06:39 PM
Im not sure what this is. I just grabbed my mug, my laptop, and wrote. and am still writing...
It seems a man is only a measure of his words. Unknown to most. Tried and true, his laptop keys clicking away into the night... This is what most writers experience, and with their coffee next to them, they sit at a desk, their screen bright white, as their word document is typed into existence. It seems that it echos through cultures, the Americans and Brits, the Mayas, Incas, Aztecs, all with their form of the odd one out, who wants to sit there, and do, absolutely nothing but write... But me? You? I don't know, I am only a man with a computer, and this word document, slowly pressing this unto the page of my document.
Well, to start, a writer can only know what his mind gives him. I may sound a bit cryptic here, but, it seems to me, that one man has no idea that is not inspired from something, processed billions of times through your brain, then spat out through your fingers, to the screen, or to the paper through your pen. This all begins with what? A question with no answer, some crazy idea thrown to you by riding a Centro bus. It has something behind it. There is that little nag behind your thoughts, saying “Write about this, come on” Like a tiny little author in your brain maybe... Those thoughts, wrapped into a package of words, beginning with an inspiration, are writing.
After you begin, all is lost, as you crank out words, check it twice and thrice over, and then published through a send button, or maybe a button to post it on some forum, but either way, you put it out there to be read, to be judged, and looked at. You know, that somewhere out there, someone will be “This man is an amazing writer!” That person will be another inspiration to write more, to help, to make it better. To become a writer, no matter how late it gets, how much caffeine you take in to stay awake, to make yourself good at what you do. I don't know what drives me to this, what idea pops up. It just does. So, take into the stride of life, your embrace of happiness, with writing.
Well, after some musing. And a quick conversation with elthas, I am posting this on behalf of myself, and anyone who reads it. A musing on writing. A word on behalf of my own skills, which I want to improve. So, I beg you, reply, and post ANY tips at all that I can use. I just want to get better at it. Maybe go into a career with it sometime in the far future. This has been a comment.
After your little writing escapade, you look it over, ask people to read it again, maybe edit it. You will see what happens to it. Maybe. But you, the one who wrote that post. That email, to your boss, a company. The satisfaction you may get from them smiling when they see it. Or the hope you might have for getting something approved, or judged well. It matters not. It is art, in the form of words of all sorts. Be them fiction or truth, happy or sad. They are your soul, your life, a dedication you love and would never give up. Let it grow into a passion, those who have not already. And love it as you would a small child...
Writing is a lifeblood that runs through us all in books and screens, in code and games. Know that you will experience it sometime, and that you may, or may not love it. But know once. That there is no good writer who needs no help. So be helpful here, to me, please I beg. Just some tips. Anything. Thank you in all ways.
This has been a something. Im not sure what, or why. It just is. -Erik
It seems a man is only a measure of his words. Unknown to most. Tried and true, his laptop keys clicking away into the night... This is what most writers experience, and with their coffee next to them, they sit at a desk, their screen bright white, as their word document is typed into existence. It seems that it echos through cultures, the Americans and Brits, the Mayas, Incas, Aztecs, all with their form of the odd one out, who wants to sit there, and do, absolutely nothing but write... But me? You? I don't know, I am only a man with a computer, and this word document, slowly pressing this unto the page of my document.
Well, to start, a writer can only know what his mind gives him. I may sound a bit cryptic here, but, it seems to me, that one man has no idea that is not inspired from something, processed billions of times through your brain, then spat out through your fingers, to the screen, or to the paper through your pen. This all begins with what? A question with no answer, some crazy idea thrown to you by riding a Centro bus. It has something behind it. There is that little nag behind your thoughts, saying “Write about this, come on” Like a tiny little author in your brain maybe... Those thoughts, wrapped into a package of words, beginning with an inspiration, are writing.
After you begin, all is lost, as you crank out words, check it twice and thrice over, and then published through a send button, or maybe a button to post it on some forum, but either way, you put it out there to be read, to be judged, and looked at. You know, that somewhere out there, someone will be “This man is an amazing writer!” That person will be another inspiration to write more, to help, to make it better. To become a writer, no matter how late it gets, how much caffeine you take in to stay awake, to make yourself good at what you do. I don't know what drives me to this, what idea pops up. It just does. So, take into the stride of life, your embrace of happiness, with writing.
Well, after some musing. And a quick conversation with elthas, I am posting this on behalf of myself, and anyone who reads it. A musing on writing. A word on behalf of my own skills, which I want to improve. So, I beg you, reply, and post ANY tips at all that I can use. I just want to get better at it. Maybe go into a career with it sometime in the far future. This has been a comment.
After your little writing escapade, you look it over, ask people to read it again, maybe edit it. You will see what happens to it. Maybe. But you, the one who wrote that post. That email, to your boss, a company. The satisfaction you may get from them smiling when they see it. Or the hope you might have for getting something approved, or judged well. It matters not. It is art, in the form of words of all sorts. Be them fiction or truth, happy or sad. They are your soul, your life, a dedication you love and would never give up. Let it grow into a passion, those who have not already. And love it as you would a small child...
Writing is a lifeblood that runs through us all in books and screens, in code and games. Know that you will experience it sometime, and that you may, or may not love it. But know once. That there is no good writer who needs no help. So be helpful here, to me, please I beg. Just some tips. Anything. Thank you in all ways.
This has been a something. Im not sure what, or why. It just is. -Erik