November 25, 2008

Strange new world

I'm not entirely happy with the idea for my world, but once it got into my head it tickled me and I couldn't get it out. So here we are, in a very strange new world.

It was dark. The broken buildings clawed at the night sky, blotting out stars, but no longer the power and strength they had once been. There was no one to look after the physical any more. No one had the strength, of arm or mind, to put back together the fallen pieces. The city had devolved from the metropolis it had once been. There was once a time when the inhabitants could work together, could use the best of both of their strengths to ensure that everything prospered. They had been rich in technology and military. They had been clever; strong.

Now the race had devolved; or perhaps evolved so much that it could no longer work together cohesively. Man had turned against woman and woman against man. Neither could see why the other would be useful any more, and yet they both still lived in this city, separated by what they were. The women concealed themselves high in the broken buildings, while the men scurried in the shadows, barely remembering how to take care of themselves, fighting anything and everything that they could. It was all a battle to them; a show of strength. There was nothing if they could not be on top, if they could not beat other men in a show of strength, then they had nothing left. Sometimes they even challenged females to battle to assert themselves, though there was little point in doing so. Women never fought them. They backed off, allowing the men to take whatever they wanted, allowing them to get away with anything.

While men had lost how to feel compassion and think things through, women had lost all strength. They could do nothing in a world where one needed to have someone to build houses, where they needed protection. Now they were easily picked off by disease and silly little things, like a fall on the road.

Nothing could protect this race, dying out while they did not work in cooperation. Nothing was done, nothing was developed. Without cooperation there was no procreation and slowly but surely they were dying off.

“Don’t move, Lynn.” The two women stood very still, watching the man as he stumbled towards them, making inarticulate words. Even language was dying off. All it did though was make him into a more terrifying creature, a more pitiful creature. The women fought not to tremble, clutching their bags close. They could not fight, must not fight. Even if they had been strong enough to hold off the man, they would not have fought him. They couldn’t bear the thought of hurting anyone else. Such was their weakness.

The man grunted again, raising a threatening fist and gesturing at the bag Lynn was carrying. He was challenging her, hoping that she would rise to it so that he could fight her, but she would not. The women always just gave the men what they wanted. The men would not fight when they were given what they wanted, when a woman showed them enough subservience, though many suspected they still would have quite liked to fight.

Lynn held her bag tighter to her chest. It held precious items in, as well as all of her money. The man’s face twisted further and she quickly loosened her grip on the bag. There was nothing more important than preserving her and her sister’s life. Nothing. She did not want anyone to get hurt. Slowly the bag was held up before her, not wanting to get too close to the pitiful creature. He seemed disappointed. No fight. No challenge.

All the same he snatched the bag off her, staggering away as he ripped it up, trying to find what was inside. There would be nothing that he could use, but that wasn’t the point. The point was that the women had given up against him, a stronger being.

Lynn looked at her sister fearfully, then back to the man. He wasn’t coming back towards them, his back turned as he rooted through the contents of her bag, ripping up everything. Tears filled her eyes and her sister gripped her arm tightly, pulling her gently along the road, trying not to make any more noise that would draw the man back to them.

“Hush. We’ll just have to stop carrying bags around for them to try and take.”

October 28, 2008

There in darkness

Brassy beneath hand, hard;

Vindictive vines of metal

Trap a nutshell of mankind.

Where, there in darkness, shadows,

There are no straight answers.


Taunted by the greenist apple;


No more brave heroes here

To ride stale white stallions;

Climb highest trees.


We doubt.


Follow the path laid out.

Innovation in conformity.

What are you doing?


Joys of childhood are lost.

Not yet forgotten;

But soon.

October 22, 2008

Leaf haiku

Leaf haikuMy My haiku placed somewhere on campus.

Basically just wrote it on some autumn leaves using a CD marker and took some pictures, afterwards upping the contrast and desaturating them.

If you can't read it:

Here hang nature's flags

Heralding the season's change

Gold, red, brown banners


October 21, 2008

I knew I wouldn't be very good at this =]

No good at keeping up with journal-type things. Mostly because I haven't been doing a huge amount work that I am proud of. Poems really do go over my head, even when I am the one writing them.

But I've written quite a few at the request of David Morley. This week's have kind of been put off to the last minute as I have felt little inspiration for writing poetry, and instead have been working on my novel-in-progress. But inspiration did strike me tonight for the haiku we're meant to write, but I'll have to put up the photo tomorrow as the lighting is no longer right for such things. If I'm not still feeling unwell I'll get up early to catch the early morning light and hope and pray it's not raining again! And hope that my idea works, otherwise I'm going to be putting it on a post-it note and sticking it somewhere random.

As for the poem we started last week and had to re-work, I decided to go with the very first draft in the end, as it seemed most immediate. And, well, quite honestly, most technically good, to my eyes. Poetry = hard.

Mushrooms, mulch and moss;

Damp golden and brown.

Dying, living, reborn: tossed

And collected in Jacob's box.

That is what I saw in my metre squared. Entirely true. Might as well have a bit of fun with this if I'm not going to get a load of deep meanings from it, right?

As for walking poem, that will be done tonight as I rush towards anime and manga society. Will cause for interesting hand-writing, no doubt. Hopefully will still be legible.

Anyway, must be off, more lungs to cough up.


October 07, 2008

Kind of last minute, neh?

Yeah, so I finally finished my poem (or at last became happy with a previous draft, should I say) for Modes of Writing. I'm no good at poetry and making it have deep, meaningful comments about the world, only about my personal life. Which I'm certain is acceptable. I'm just not very confident on the poetry front.

Anyway, yes:

You will never know all;

I keep it all tight

Behind my great wall.

But you do not care.

There's but one thing to know;

In the end it will be alright.

Oh, and my two random lines were:  With glass and walls and windows   ;   Of my mother what she wants

I do have a reasoning for getting where I did, though I think my poem became very ironic in the end version. In my earlier drafts I had intended for it to truly mean how much my mother wants to protect me and make me happy, but I gradually realised that a lot of what she thinks is my happiness is just a front, and she doesn't really know everything about me. When she sees my troubles, or when anyone sees my troubles, a lot of what comes out is 'in the end it will be alright'. Very useful. Thanks. But then again, I think because I do not explain my troubles properly, or seem to brush them off as I explain them, people maybe don't think I'm as affected as I am. I find it hard to tell the whole truth, particularly to my parents, as I do not want them to react badly to what I tell them. I know I will have to eventually, but it's hard. It is, I guess, something I can only work through by myself.


I just made this a diary entry, didn't I?

Well, I was explaining my poem and giving a follow-up. That's my excuse and I'm sticking to it.


October 02, 2008

Writers Lunch…

... Leads to awesome talks. I really enjoyed being able to sit around with a group of like-minded book-worms and writers and just talk about random stuff that we like to read and write. Inspired by that, I'm going to post up here a list of my favourite books, ones which I think other people should read if they are into the genre. Or even if they are not. Expand your horizons! Though I do know now that a load of the creative writers seem to like fantasy, so these will be good for you!

First and foremost would be anything and everything by Raymond E. Feist. He is an epic fantasy author (and I don't just mean that he's awesome, epic as in the genre. Well, he's awesome too, clearly) and has written about a million books in total. The one to start with would be Magician, and everything follows in order from there (Silverthorn, Darkness at Sethanon etc...)

Second would have to be Juliet Marillier (I still don't truly know who comes first out of these two...) She is more of a romantic historical fantasy author (mouthful much?) and one of the only authors who has managed to make me cry in just about all of her books. A book that can make you cry (or, make me cry anyway) must be really sad, and, as such, well written to evoke such emotions. The Sevenwaters trilogy is the one I started with, and somewhat more traditional than her other books, basing the first on the German folk tale of the six brothers who were turned into swans and their sister had to keep a vow of silence and weave six vests from thorny weeds to break the curse. It is truly brilliant and extremely sad. I definitely recommend anything that she has written, though.

Speaking of tears, I think I'm going to end on Malorie Blackman. I know that a lot of people have already read her Noughts and Crosses, and so there is little more I can do to advertise her. However, I do believe that this is one of the most amazing books; trilogies, in fact. The first one was devastating, and though the others are sad, I do find a sense of satisfaction with how they end.

I shall leave it at that for now because I have written more than I expected. More updates on brilliant authors to come later. Please put the ones you love most so that I can find their work and read it; I need some recommendations (despite the heavy reading load as it is...)


October 01, 2008

First Blog

Well, here we go. Have been informed by David Morley that it is a good idea to make a blog, and so I have done so at his bidding, even if at the moment I find it a bit superfluous seeing as I have nothing yet to write 8D

I have only one project in the works at the moment, which is my current novel, which I have been working on... oh, say a year. Not got very much actual writing done (apart from background stuff that won't appear in the end result) as I have mostly done research on what I want this to be like. Sounding kind of interesting? In most likelihood it won't appeal to most people who will read this. It is a fantasy novel, which I am very proud of, and dreamt up, quite literally. I'm still working on how I wish to present it, whether I want it to be darker and show more modern problems affecting those in a typically renaissance lifestyle, or if I want to keep it simpler and more naive.

Other than this... I just have scraps, a doodle's equivalent of writing. I find little gems, but rarely follow them up, as I am quickly taken by another idea. I do need to learn to focus more.

Must not make this like a diary.

Enough rambling.

I hate diaries.


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