Hey, it's me. And some quotes.

I'm sorry for the posts (or lack of them rather). I've just been in between busy, lazy, and uh, melancholy, for the lack of a better term.
Not much to post anyway. I am enjoying my summer, but I wanted to do a lot more. I mean, I wanted to do everything this summer.
Unfortunately all I can think about is writing.
Bunny trail: Do you ever read something and go Yes! yes, yes, yes! Do we have shared minds or something? That is exactly what I think!
*ahem* or is it just me?
Janeal at This Journey Called Life posted:

Dear Self,
I have had this story in my head for the longest time now. Anyone who knows me knows that I live via stories. Birth is a story. Death is a story. Life in between is a long, long story. I enjoy stories. Therefore, I enjoy reading stories. Most people know this about me. What some do not know, however, is that I also enjoy writing stories. I have not written many before, but there are so many stories in my head that I do not know what to do with them all. There is one particular story in my head currently. It has been there for quite some time. I want so desperately to make that story come alive for other story-fanatic people like me. The question is, can I do it? I know I am a writer at heart and I love to write and tell stories. I might as well write this one, right? Yet, authors cannot just be people who like to write. They need to be able to give depth and substance to their work. That is something I do not know I am capable of. I am finishing Chapter 2 with so many more chapters awaiting penmanship. The answer to writing is easy, I suppose. I will always be a writer. I will always do it and enjoy doing it. The real question is, will my story be for my eyes only or will I share it with the world?

yes, yes, Yes! K, so it's definitely no secret that I love to read. It's no secret that i love to write either but very few people have actually read my writings. I have had a couple (mostly one) stories in my head but whether I will write them or not I can't decide. Or rather yes, of course I will right them because I have to.

...It’s not the most rewarding obsession in the world, but despite the hardships now and then it is, after all, an obsession. There’s no other way to describe it. For some reason, I am constantly plagued—or blessed, depending on how you think about it—with new story ideas. It’s not that I don’t want to stop, it’s that I simply cannot. That’s why I write.

And another yes! yes yes! to Brayden. (see here) So the question is not will I write them but will I share them? Can I write them? Will I be able to give life to my my story? Will I write just for me, and just whenever I feel like it? It will never get done then. I would have to commit to it. I would have to risk so much. And not only risk but actually face things that are bound to happen. And I know they are bound to happen because They've already happened in my past writing experiences. Miriam's post deserves another yes about what writers are really like. I can't put it all here, (You can click on the link if you want to see it) but I loved the quote by Limney Snicket:

“For one thing, writing is a dying form. One reads of this every day. Every magazine and newspaper, every hardcover and paperback, every website and most walls near the freeway trumpet the news that nobody reads anymore, and everyone has read these statements and felt their powerful effects. The authors of all those articles and editorials, all those manifestos and essays, all those exclamations and eulogies – what would they say if they knew you were writing something? They would urge you, in bold-faced print, to stop…
Besides, there are already plenty of novels. There is no need for a new one. One could devote one’s entire life to reading the work of Henry James, for instance, and never touch another novel by any other author, and never be hungry for anything else, the way one could live on nothing but multivitamin tablets and pureed root vegetables and never find oneself craving wild mushroom soup or linguini with clam sauce or a plain roasted chicken with lemon-zested dandelion greens or strong black coffee or a perfectly ripe peach or chips and salsa or caramel ice cream on top of poppyseed cake or smoked salmon with capers or aged goat cheese or a gin gimlet or some other startling item sprung from the imagination of some unknown cook. In fact, think of the world of literature as an enormous meal, and your novel as some small piddling ingredient – the drawn butter, for example, served next to a large, boiled lobster. Who wants that? If it were brought to the table, surely most people would ask that it be removed post-haste…
Of course, it may well be that you are writing not for some perfect reader someplace, but for yourself, and that is the biggest folly of them all, because it will not work. You will not be happy all of the time. Unlike most things that most people make, your novel will not be perfect. It may well be considerably less than one-fourth perfect, and this will frustrate you and sadden you. This is why you should stop. Most people are not writing novels which is why there is so little frustration and sadness in the world, particularly as we zoom on past the novel in our smoky jet packs soon to be equipped with pureed food. The next time you find yourself in a group of people, stop and think to yourself, probably no one here is writing a novel. This is why everyone is so content, here at this bus stop or in line at the supermarket or standing around this baggage carousel or sitting around in this doctor’s waiting room or in seventh grade or in Johannesburg. Give up your novel, and join the crowd. Think of all the things you could do with your time instead of participating in a noble and storied art form. There are things in your cupboards that likely need to be moved around.
In short, quit. Writing a novel is a tiny candle in a dark, swirling world. It brings light and warmth and hope to the lucky few who, against insufferable odds and despite a juggernaut of irritations, find themselves in the right place to hold it. Blow it out, so our eyes will not be drawn to its power. Extinguish it so we can get some sleep. I plan to quit writing novels myself, sometime in the next hundred years.”

Now for those of you who looked at that quote, thought about it, and decided to skim/skip it because it looked too long (shame on you cause you were wrong and you missed a good not to mention funny quote)... Or for anyone else really, this is what I was thinking:

Besides, there are already plenty of novels. There is no need for a new one.
It's true. I know the quote is dripping with sarcasm at most points but it's actually all so true. There are enough novels in this world, some are a waste of paper, some were never published but should have been. Who cares if he's a genius, it's just another random story. Who cares if one more nobody writes another random story? Who cares if i write one?

Of course, it may well be that you are writing not for some perfect reader someplace, but for yourself, and that is the biggest folly of them all, because it will not work. You will not be happy all of the time.
This paragraph makes my head spin in different directions. You will not be happy all of the time. Welcome to writing. Confession: I write for myself. Even this blog, I would still write if I didn't have anyone to read it. I've noticed that most bloggers have a blog for readers. What's weird about me is that I made this blog for me. I invite people to join me but in the end, it's just me, sitting here at my keyboard posting my thoughts and ramblings. (speaking of rambling...)
Anyway I don't know how many authors have said to focus on pleasing your audience, not yourself. If you want something to get published, you have to write something that people will read right? To do that you have to write to please other people right?
wrong.

A great author is the one who has something to say and knows how to say it.... He writes passionately, because he feels keenly; forcibly, because he sees vividly; he sees too clearly to be vague; he is too serious to be lazy and ineffective; He can analyze his subject, and therefore he is rich; He embraces it as a whole, and in it's parts, and therefore he is consistent; He has a firm hold of it, and therefore he is luminous; When his imagination swells up, it overflows in ornament; When his heart is touched, it thrills along his verse;...He expresses what all feel, but all cannot say.

I read this quote somewhere in my English book, (I don't remember who said it, I think it was taken from a magazine...?) but i think it's great for any writer/reader. I don't want my stories published because I can get money by entertaining a reader. No. I want them published because i have a voice to be heard, a story to share. I have a heart that understands other hearts, that wants to speak to the heart who has ears to hear, to reach to the heart that feels the same. He expresses what all feel, but all cannot say.

So of course were back to that series of questions that refuse to leave my mind, refuse to stay answered: Will I write it? Can I write it? Will it work? Is it worth it?...
*sigh* ya. Summer. (If you read to the end of this post comment and say "potato soup" just to confuse the people who didn't ;)

okloveyoubye