So I've told myself time and time again that I will eventually get this scheduled writing thing done at least once a week. Even went so far as marking it on the calender what I'll write, when. This is why blogs are good. You don't have to commit to writing an entire chapter or ten pages every week, but every post can be different with varied lengths. Blogs are good for people with a demanding work schedule or other things.
I've also learned that writing a free flowing article like this with whatever pops into my mind at any given moment helps spark ideas for writing. That's always a plus! I think writing free flow like this is also helping me with my writers voice as well, allowing me to learn to be comfortable letting go and writing like I talk.
Back to the topic though, when it comes to a writing schedule it's a little unrealistic to force yourself to write every day. I've read articles and such that say writing every day is what needs to be done, but I've found that having a good weekly writing session is a lot less stressful. I guess it could be done, writing every day, but I know a lot of you writers out there have real jobs that you have to work to make real money. We all know the writing career can take lots of time before it can make make any mula.
Anyways, look at me, I sound old, babbling off topic not even remembering where I first started the conversation.
Oh yeah! Scheduling. Well, I guess that's pretty much it. So the most important thing is that you HAVE A SCHEDULE. Whether once a day, three times a week, or once. And it doesn't have to always be writing your novel. You could babble on like I've been doing here on this blog, or, instead, you could skip this whole writing thing and go eat a large box of little cesars pizza all by yourself.
But where's the fun in that?
Ariwrit3s
Thursday, June 25, 2015
Friday, June 19, 2015
Writing Active Hooks
When it comes to writing about writing, there are a million and one things to think about. Just as that song from Sound of Music Goes: "Let's start a the very beginning, it's a very good place to start." We're going to start talking about Writing Active Hooks. So first of all, let me define a hook.
Hook: something that attracts attention or serves as an enticement.
Sounds like something you want in your writing? Heck yeah! And where do you think it would be best to put your hook? First sentence. You heard me folks, first sentence of your novel. If you can hook readers there, you'll have them 'hooked' for at least until the end of the first paragraph. And then guess of another spot to put another hook? End of first paragraph! In fact, stringing hooks where you novel breaks naturally is the best way for your readers to keep reading. For example at the ends of chapters. After all, let's face it, it's human nature for us to be curious. We're curious beings and that's the point of hooks. What can be better than using our very nature to help sell our novels?
Now, I'm not saying that you can string a bunch of enticing sentences throughout your book and expect it to sell. Of course, you need a good story too. But all good stories have a beginning, so why not make your beginning the best it can be? For those editors and publishers out there who have a stack of papers a mile high, maybe that first sentence of your book is all the chance they'll give you to make them want to read more.
So there are many different types of hooks. Depending on the genre of story you're writing, you'll want to include more than a single hook.
1) Action or Danger Hook
2) Overpowering Emotion Hook
3) A surprising Situation Hook
4) The Totally Unexpected Hook
5) Raising a Question Hook
6) Unique Character Hook
7) Evocative Hook
8) Foreshadowing With or Without Warning Hook
9) Surprising or Shocking Dialogue Hook
Now I don't have enough room on here to write about the details of every single one of these hooks. If you want more information I highly recommend the book "Writing Active Hooks" two part series by Mary Buckham which is where I get my information for this article from.
Ariwrit3s
When it comes to writing about writing, there are a million and one things to think about. Just as that song from Sound of Music Goes: "Let's start a the very beginning, it's a very good place to start." We're going to start talking about Writing Active Hooks. So first of all, let me define a hook.
Hook: something that attracts attention or serves as an enticement.
Sounds like something you want in your writing? Heck yeah! And where do you think it would be best to put your hook? First sentence. You heard me folks, first sentence of your novel. If you can hook readers there, you'll have them 'hooked' for at least until the end of the first paragraph. And then guess of another spot to put another hook? End of first paragraph! In fact, stringing hooks where you novel breaks naturally is the best way for your readers to keep reading. For example at the ends of chapters. After all, let's face it, it's human nature for us to be curious. We're curious beings and that's the point of hooks. What can be better than using our very nature to help sell our novels?
Now, I'm not saying that you can string a bunch of enticing sentences throughout your book and expect it to sell. Of course, you need a good story too. But all good stories have a beginning, so why not make your beginning the best it can be? For those editors and publishers out there who have a stack of papers a mile high, maybe that first sentence of your book is all the chance they'll give you to make them want to read more.
So there are many different types of hooks. Depending on the genre of story you're writing, you'll want to include more than a single hook.
1) Action or Danger Hook
2) Overpowering Emotion Hook
3) A surprising Situation Hook
4) The Totally Unexpected Hook
5) Raising a Question Hook
6) Unique Character Hook
7) Evocative Hook
8) Foreshadowing With or Without Warning Hook
9) Surprising or Shocking Dialogue Hook
Now I don't have enough room on here to write about the details of every single one of these hooks. If you want more information I highly recommend the book "Writing Active Hooks" two part series by Mary Buckham which is where I get my information for this article from.
Ariwrit3s
Thursday, June 18, 2015
For some reason I'm at this mental block as to what the background of my main character should be. I'm not gonna give any novel title names at this moment since I always end up changing them umpteen times. I will reveal this though: it's my very first science fiction novel. Or better yet: my very first novel ever! Well, Ive written quiet a few stories. Even got put on the front page several times on Teen Ink when I was a teenager for writing a short story called Held Hostage. That was my first thriller. But of course, nobody voted for it to be in the magazine. After all, most all teens prefer romance to thriller.
I've also written a ton of poems. In fact the one I'm proud of is the longest one I've ever written. This one can also be found on the Teen Ink website. Just thought I'd share it with you for the fun of it:
The Canidae's Cry
Hunters once thought they made ones safe
Expired wolves, all over they lay
Town surrounded with children there
In meadows played, forests shared
Surrounding the towns they were,
Separated from the outside world.
Wolves once ran when they saw a face,
Their own shadows they once chased
From winter to spring they were kept away
And if territory they crossed, in their grave they'd lay.
But by Summer's came, they were dying out by tens
They had had enough, they wanted revenge.
So the ones residual, grouping their pack,
Their neighboring town was under attack
Two split off, one this way and that
Confusing the hunter for planning he lacked.
Blood now tricked down the hill down into the stream
The only source of its kind was now unclean
And when ones from towns, the stream they swigged,
ailing they became when they did.
So out from the forests, down from the hill they came
There was only fifty in all, what was left of the Canidaes
They went for small ones, ones with no means
Ones that can't hasten themselves because supporting they need.
They carry them by their tiny cloths
The mothers, they cry. Their face a reddening woe.
But this was not a mass murder, this was just a threat
All they wanted was to be treated with more respect.
So in their caves, one child per all, they wait lying down
for some cry to arise, sparking the town.
Back at the town, all ones are sick
and mentally distraught, every mother frantic
Physically indisposed, the stream to blame
And for one poor widow, two losses they became.
"Hineros, Hineros!" she calls her hunters name
But he's not there, his life the Canidaes claimed.
So back on her sickbed she does go
To weep, to mourn, blowing her nose.
So eventually the Canidae's cry got around
Putting in shock, the entire town:
"Our little ones now are probly' notin' but rubbish!"
"The killing of wolves was not right and was foolish!"
But then a hush came across the crowd
When poor Hineros's body was found.
Soon thereafter the town came to a charter
Yet some knew deep down that the Canidae's were smarter.
Meat they'd lay across the hill
And when they came, their pack leader they'd kill
Not realizing how many there were just yet,
They went ahead and set up their trap.
Awaiting in caves, the Canidaes did
For some sort of noise or smell acrid
But not acrid did they learn, but the smell of something sweet
Something to bite, something to eat.
But a warning smell filled their noses to the brim,
They knew of hunters' presence, and that a trap they'd begin
So they drowned out all their drooling tongues
And they pushed away the thoughts of free meals among.
So there they stayed and together they waited in a heap
Upon the ground they sat, the children bundled, all fast asleep
The hunters that spied across the hill
They waited and waited, with no Canidae's killed
For not one even peeked out from the bush
The one right beside where the lonely meat stood.
Now the widow, she waited, watching the men wait
She waited and waited, but not a single one came.
She had known in her heart even before, now after
That the Canidae's themselves were going to be smarter.
But then from the woods she did hear a little one cry,
A sigh of relief, her child may still be alive!
So right then and there she figured out why
The Canidae's came and called the Canidae's cry.
So then she snuck into the lonely forest by herself
For not threat to arise, she went by herself.
She walked and walked to where she knew of their den to be
She then secreted behind a florescence tree.
The Canidaes smelt that smell, they had waited
The the smell that they smelled, the one that was acrid.
Their plan was one that no human would understand.
They were to wait for the humans, whoever came,
And if more than one came, with guns and with spears
One single child's flesh they would certainly tear
Then if the humans started to attack
If they'd threatened to kill the rest of the pack,
Then the Canidaes would surely cry
And not a single child would remain alive.
Yet, if just one came, rested and unarmed,
The children would be sent away without being harmed.
So with that smell, they brought the children out, they all came,
Fifty in all, one for each Canidae.
So the leader set out to follow the smell
To find the one that was brave but unwell.
Behind a tree the widow did sit
Planning her next move, hoping she'd live.
But then when she heard a leaf crack, she then delayed
Then several more, she knew were more, to her dismay.
She took a deep breath, then turned around to see
Five cautious wolves staring back at thee
But they seemed somehow different in some odd way
And the widow felt no threat to run away.
The leader stared at her and tilted his head
Seemingly showing her friendliness and peace instead.
The leader then reached out from behind him
And pulled out a small one that looked safe and tired.
The widow's eyes widened for this was her son she faced
She reached out for him and they lovingly embraced.
Tears ran from her eyes, her face was smeared
"Oh thank you!" she said, letting out her tears.
But then came out the rest of the pack
One child per one sitting upon their back.
She felt relieved, not a single one harmed!
The vision of beasts, well most certainly were not!
So to her town they did her follow
And each mother retrieved their little ones after each other.
Soon the whole town saw
That the Canidaes were not a threat at all
So they fired their guards and retired their spears
For the thought of the Canidaes now brought no fear
And so the Canidae's cry turned into a Canidae's smile
And that acrid smell turned into a sweet worthwhile
And soon the boundaries were completely disregarded
For a new species of friends they had started.
And all this, as you know, is owed
To the sickened yet brave-stricken widow.
Moral:
So this, dear friends, is a lesson for all
It doesn't matter if your stout or tall
Maybe your perception of someone else
May bot be true at all, it may be completely something else.
So no matter who you are, everyone has feelings
So before you start hurting, before you start dealing
Remember these words: respect is the key
Treat others the way that you want to be treated
Then everyone would get along and hatefulness would end
Who knows, one day, your worst enemy might end up your friend.
Ariwrit3s
I've also written a ton of poems. In fact the one I'm proud of is the longest one I've ever written. This one can also be found on the Teen Ink website. Just thought I'd share it with you for the fun of it:
The Canidae's Cry
Hunters once thought they made ones safe
Expired wolves, all over they lay
Town surrounded with children there
In meadows played, forests shared
Surrounding the towns they were,
Separated from the outside world.
Wolves once ran when they saw a face,
Their own shadows they once chased
From winter to spring they were kept away
And if territory they crossed, in their grave they'd lay.
But by Summer's came, they were dying out by tens
They had had enough, they wanted revenge.
So the ones residual, grouping their pack,
Their neighboring town was under attack
Two split off, one this way and that
Confusing the hunter for planning he lacked.
Blood now tricked down the hill down into the stream
The only source of its kind was now unclean
And when ones from towns, the stream they swigged,
ailing they became when they did.
So out from the forests, down from the hill they came
There was only fifty in all, what was left of the Canidaes
They went for small ones, ones with no means
Ones that can't hasten themselves because supporting they need.
They carry them by their tiny cloths
The mothers, they cry. Their face a reddening woe.
But this was not a mass murder, this was just a threat
All they wanted was to be treated with more respect.
So in their caves, one child per all, they wait lying down
for some cry to arise, sparking the town.
Back at the town, all ones are sick
and mentally distraught, every mother frantic
Physically indisposed, the stream to blame
And for one poor widow, two losses they became.
"Hineros, Hineros!" she calls her hunters name
But he's not there, his life the Canidaes claimed.
So back on her sickbed she does go
To weep, to mourn, blowing her nose.
So eventually the Canidae's cry got around
Putting in shock, the entire town:
"Our little ones now are probly' notin' but rubbish!"
"The killing of wolves was not right and was foolish!"
But then a hush came across the crowd
When poor Hineros's body was found.
Soon thereafter the town came to a charter
Yet some knew deep down that the Canidae's were smarter.
Meat they'd lay across the hill
And when they came, their pack leader they'd kill
Not realizing how many there were just yet,
They went ahead and set up their trap.
Awaiting in caves, the Canidaes did
For some sort of noise or smell acrid
But not acrid did they learn, but the smell of something sweet
Something to bite, something to eat.
But a warning smell filled their noses to the brim,
They knew of hunters' presence, and that a trap they'd begin
So they drowned out all their drooling tongues
And they pushed away the thoughts of free meals among.
So there they stayed and together they waited in a heap
Upon the ground they sat, the children bundled, all fast asleep
The hunters that spied across the hill
They waited and waited, with no Canidae's killed
For not one even peeked out from the bush
The one right beside where the lonely meat stood.
Now the widow, she waited, watching the men wait
She waited and waited, but not a single one came.
She had known in her heart even before, now after
That the Canidae's themselves were going to be smarter.
But then from the woods she did hear a little one cry,
A sigh of relief, her child may still be alive!
So right then and there she figured out why
The Canidae's came and called the Canidae's cry.
So then she snuck into the lonely forest by herself
For not threat to arise, she went by herself.
She walked and walked to where she knew of their den to be
She then secreted behind a florescence tree.
The Canidaes smelt that smell, they had waited
The the smell that they smelled, the one that was acrid.
Their plan was one that no human would understand.
They were to wait for the humans, whoever came,
And if more than one came, with guns and with spears
One single child's flesh they would certainly tear
Then if the humans started to attack
If they'd threatened to kill the rest of the pack,
Then the Canidaes would surely cry
And not a single child would remain alive.
Yet, if just one came, rested and unarmed,
The children would be sent away without being harmed.
So with that smell, they brought the children out, they all came,
Fifty in all, one for each Canidae.
So the leader set out to follow the smell
To find the one that was brave but unwell.
Behind a tree the widow did sit
Planning her next move, hoping she'd live.
But then when she heard a leaf crack, she then delayed
Then several more, she knew were more, to her dismay.
She took a deep breath, then turned around to see
Five cautious wolves staring back at thee
But they seemed somehow different in some odd way
And the widow felt no threat to run away.
The leader stared at her and tilted his head
Seemingly showing her friendliness and peace instead.
The leader then reached out from behind him
And pulled out a small one that looked safe and tired.
The widow's eyes widened for this was her son she faced
She reached out for him and they lovingly embraced.
Tears ran from her eyes, her face was smeared
"Oh thank you!" she said, letting out her tears.
But then came out the rest of the pack
One child per one sitting upon their back.
She felt relieved, not a single one harmed!
The vision of beasts, well most certainly were not!
So to her town they did her follow
And each mother retrieved their little ones after each other.
Soon the whole town saw
That the Canidaes were not a threat at all
So they fired their guards and retired their spears
For the thought of the Canidaes now brought no fear
And so the Canidae's cry turned into a Canidae's smile
And that acrid smell turned into a sweet worthwhile
And soon the boundaries were completely disregarded
For a new species of friends they had started.
And all this, as you know, is owed
To the sickened yet brave-stricken widow.
Moral:
So this, dear friends, is a lesson for all
It doesn't matter if your stout or tall
Maybe your perception of someone else
May bot be true at all, it may be completely something else.
So no matter who you are, everyone has feelings
So before you start hurting, before you start dealing
Remember these words: respect is the key
Treat others the way that you want to be treated
Then everyone would get along and hatefulness would end
Who knows, one day, your worst enemy might end up your friend.
Ariwrit3s
A letter to Arcadia Page.
Okay. So you got me Arcadia Page. You're the one who got me to start writing my own blogs. Especially after reading your post about being shy and weird I realized that this thing may help me move along my writing career. I've always been inspired by you Arcadia. Ever since you used to teach me at ten years old how to draw those manga girls. I was always in awe at your skills. And then that one time you let me read a novel you wrote called Omni Girl. Yup, I've never forgotten that. I remember reading through the entire thing and not being able to put it down. Whether you realize it or not, you're my role model and I hope one day I'll be able to reach your skill in writing
I may not talk to you much anymore. Heck, if you ever even read this you'll probably think I'm some weirdo. But guess what? All writers take risks and I guess this'll be my first.
Ariwrite3s
Okay. So you got me Arcadia Page. You're the one who got me to start writing my own blogs. Especially after reading your post about being shy and weird I realized that this thing may help me move along my writing career. I've always been inspired by you Arcadia. Ever since you used to teach me at ten years old how to draw those manga girls. I was always in awe at your skills. And then that one time you let me read a novel you wrote called Omni Girl. Yup, I've never forgotten that. I remember reading through the entire thing and not being able to put it down. Whether you realize it or not, you're my role model and I hope one day I'll be able to reach your skill in writing
I may not talk to you much anymore. Heck, if you ever even read this you'll probably think I'm some weirdo. But guess what? All writers take risks and I guess this'll be my first.
Ariwrite3s
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