The blog of the highly opinionated Sgt. Octopus

Posts tagged “Writing

four thousand two hundred thirty-seven

Let’s not talk about how I didn’t make it to 50,000 words.

And stopped before I crossed that finish line.

four thousand two hundred thirty-seven.

Instead let us focus on the good things that happened this month:

I started writing for fun again.

I did start reading a bit more than usual.

I got five days with the one I love.

Snuggling, reading, secret kisses.

Admiring the glitter of snow while holding hands.

Coffee is making its way up my drinkable beverages list.

Never mess with Starbucks.

Tumblr has lost its appeal as a procrastination machine.

I have two weeks of school left and

a homework pile that makes NaNoWriMo

look like a spec of dust.

 

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Liverpool Street by Neil Gaiman

I found this story on Neil Gaiman‘s blog. It simply captivated me.

Neil Gaiman is one of those authors who I greatly admire because of what I’ve seen on their Tumblr or twitter (and possibly a YouTube video or two) but beyond a novel or two, haven’t actually dived into their work. Honestly, I am ashamed of myself for this because when I listen to or read his stories I am always mesmerized. If only I could have a drop of the talent this guy possesses.

This story you can listen to in its full glory above, but for those who can’t watch the video at the moment here’s a little summary: it’s the story of a young Neil Gaiman as he waits to get picked up by his parents at Liverpool station.

I am always amazed at how people can create creative nonfiction and how they can tell stories about that happened thirty odd years ago with such minuscule and gorgeous detail, when I could barely do that about something that happened today. My creative writing teacher loves this kind of work however, I think it’s mostly because it’s easy to teach to those who are just taking it as a fun elective and she’s in the process of publishing her own novel in the same genre.

Nevertheless, this story is one that I really enjoyed. It was told beautifully. It starts off rather simply with a point that I think becomes rather important as the story progresses, he was only sixteen years old when this happened. He related to his audience very well throughout this, and I think that’s where it connected with me. My parents were the type to be late as well, I’ve even had instances similar to this. Not that my parents have ever gone on impromptu trips to Austria… but you get the point.

And I really need to pick up one of his books…


I AM A WRITER.

It is not a common known fact about me anymore that I am a writer. This used to be my identifier, if you will. I was the girl in the back of the class who didn’t give a damn what the teacher was saying because I had my own notebook and my own thoughts to get down on paper… unless it was a lit class, then I usually listened.

Nonetheless, now I’m in college. Been here for almost 2.5 years, and I’m udderly bored of this whole thing. I’ve started to neglect the things that made me happiest in favor of the things that are supposed to create my future. I’m sick of living in the future. I want to live in the now. And with that comes writing.

So here comes NaNoWriMo once again, time to put on the old writers cap and snuggle up with my laptop for a month thinking of worlds that I could never truly visit. And this is where I’m going to document my experiences, along with my various other writing ventures.

I just have to figure out what the heck I’m going to write about…