The Big Idea

I got it.


Finally.

Yo Elana Johnson!

Because I'm too lazy to scroll through the comments section of your contest bloggy thing...I'm giving you your own thread--yeah baby.

I think the prizes for the contests should be gift certificates to Taco Bell! Or Energy saving light bulbs...


What?
Those things are kinda cool looking.

I wonder if they come in purple.

Japanese Story

So, I went on ahead and signed up for NetFlix, which is just all kinds of awesome might I add.

Anyhow, I've been wanting to see this movie for ages--literally. And the first movie I want sent is Japanese Story with Toni Colette and Gotero Lastnameican'tspell and I loved it. I cried...oh my goodness I cried. Eric is like, "You're weird' and I'm like "You have no soul!"

I was just marveling over the simplicity of the story--and how it was so moving at the same time. It took an absolutely ordinary situation--and made it extraordinary. Huge and epic plots are all good and well sometimes--but sometimes you just want a story. Sometimes you don't want the gimmick or the hype. Another perfect example is a book I mentioned before by Anita Shreve 'The Last Time They Met'. It's so detailed and not a whole lot of dialogue, but when it is, it's so human and real and seemingly not contrived that you are pulled into the story--even if books like that aren't your thing. It's like overhearing a conversation that wasn't meant for you, but you listen anyway.

I don't know, I just--I love that. I love reading about human emotion--and watching movies about it too.

Especially in a world where it seems like nothing is authentic anymore. Everything is computerized and 'There's an App for That!'

Strangely enough, I didn't dig The Notebook too much. It was...obvious and...I dunno--Hollywood? I don't know how to describe it. For Hollywood, it was deep--but then again, I'm biased. I'm more drawn to films like, The Hours or Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind (which is weird, but the basis of it is really simple).


I am writing...I don't know what...but I am. It's just more of the act of putting something on paper--I'm not really worried about anything coming from it. I think what started to kill the passion for what I do was the fact that I was trying to write to make an agent happy, instead of myself. I have gained so much confidence, that worrying about being published doesn't phase me anymore. It'll happen if it's supposed to, you know?

Writing makes me happy. It's my happy place. And at the end of the day, that's all that matters. If I write a story worth sharing with the world--great. If not...that's fine.

As long as I do what I'm put here to do...

So...I've ranted long enough. Happy Valentine's Day.

Blood, Guts and Words

Since I haven't been able to blog, and my urge to write has only come in sporadic, ephemeral spurts, I've been reading, trying to find inspiration. Okay, I wasn't exactly looking for it, but I found it. Manuscripts are still waiting for me even now, but it's not right yet. For one thing, it feels odd writing or rather typing a book on a computer when I'm used to writing on paper. I have like, a thousand notebooks. Secondly, I'm waiting to get to that point where I need to write so badly that it's going to burst out of me if I don't. And trust me folks, we don't want that to happen. Bloody guts and bloody words.

So, like I was saying--I've been reading right? I have all these books in my tiny apartment, many of which I hadn't read. I was tired of reading the same stuff so I picked up a book I had by Anita Shreve called The Last Time They Met. It was amazing and totally unexpected. The other book I found was called Smoke Jumper by Nicholas Evans. Reading both of those books made me feel like I stumbled across something great.

I don't have an elaborate description about the books. I'm not a book reviewer. But I will say that they made me feel good, and sad and worried. Desolate, hopeful...just from reading some words on paper.

And I like that.
It made me want to write again.
So I will.