Writing and the Things of Dreams.

Dreams

Dreams

Getting through your nights and days, you stare at the things you wish to do, the lives you wish to live and the projects you wish to write.

Through different thoughts our mind comes through in the worst way.

We only see certain things. We only exist in certain places and in all our journeys we laugh at the things even our mind sees.

What happens when we see the life coming at us?

You know the one. We see it in our dreams, but it’s always too far off to grasp.

Within our dreams we see the world differently, this is because our dreams suspend the reality which our subconscious hides while we’re awake.

Tapping into the reality within our dreams is the true way to write what our heart wants, and it will bring out the writing which will make things seem different.

Our journey is to get through this life, find out as much as we can, move on to whatever comes next and gain more knowledge.

Maybe in our next life we can live our dreams?

The truth is, why should we wait until after death, when we could do it right now, in this life?

Life comes at us in different directions and keeps us guessing, this is why we dream.

A suspension of belief happens. We’re free to do what we need, and free to see what only our mind sees.

This discovery will make your writing better, keep your mind sharp and dress your stories in a way which will baffle you.

Keep writing and don’t forget, write down your dreams and tap into the reality of your mind.

 

 

Writing and finding the Honey Pot

The laughter, pain and confusion of the day rolls by. We’re seething with what we’ve seen, but we put that away, stare at a blank screen and write.

Daily we see things, things which we’re sick about, confused about and sometimes, scared about.

When we see these things we could be worried about what it will do to us. Whether it may cause us mental harm or if, and this is a big if, whether it will affect our writing or on the off-chance, it may do things which could bring out the worst in us.

These are the moments we should be taking notes.

These are when our environment is giving us cues into the labyrinth of the world. This labyrinth hides many things, but sometimes it leads us to creativity, great wonderful ribbons of creativity filled with long writing sessions and awesomely incredible characters.

Our notes, whether written or jotted down in the folds of our grey matter, are the things which lead to the creative honey pot, and like Winnie the Pooh we should bury ourselves in the honey pot, finding every little piece of honey until we’re full.

The honey pot comes more with each time we take these notes, and it continues until we don’t need the notes anymore and we’re just experiencing the things around us, but our subconscious is taking notes, which will be unlocked in our writing session later.

Finding the honey pot, and getting our fingers into the warm, gooey wonderfulness keeps us writing every day.

Without the honey pot, we’re left with a blank page, nothing more.

The more we write, the more the honey pot comes into play and the less we realize we’re pulling from it, but afterward, when we’re reading our stories, that’s when the realization of the honey pot hits us.

It’s always there, but it comes more often when we’re writing regularly.

The best thing to do is get out, experience things, live and do the things you’ve wanted to do and never hold back from what you’ve wanted to do. Then you’re free to find the honey pot and it will appear when you least expect it.

Dig in, find the honey pot, take notes and write, and when you think you’ve written enough, write some more.

Writing is Believing

stacked books

Life is full of wonderful beautiful things. We know this through our discovery of the world around us.

We see them walking through a park, hear them at a concert and smell them at our favorite restaurant. Then why is it so hard to believe in our writing?

There are many reasons for our lack of belief. but the main ones I’ll list here, then I’ll make you believe.

  • We’ve been told by someone we trust that our writing is horrible.
  • We think there is some kind of magic those who’ve been published possess.
  • Your family doesn’t support you, this is the hardest to deal with.
  • You don’t believe in yourself.

Let’s begin with the First disbelief: It’s not that your writing is horrible, it may be that the person you’ve let read it doesn’t understand your story.

My wife doesn’t enjoy reading sci-fi or fantasy, she’ll read some of my stories and just stare at me. That’s how I know I need different eyes on the story than hers, because hers aren’t the correct lens to view the story and I have to find someone else.

You have to find someone who enjoys the same type of story you’re writing or there will be issues with whether they like it.

Second disbelief: There is no magic pill. There is nothing to change your writing from having grammar issues to not.

When I first started writing I bought a lot of books on writing. I did this because I believed in the myth that there was a magic pill or book to help me. What I learned is this, The only thing that will improve writing is to write. The more you write, and nearly more importantly read, the better your writing will be.

There is no magic book to help you. You can learn a lot from those books, but mostly you’ll only be frustrated and envious of the book’s author, which is never good.

Third disbelief: Having a support staff is wonderful, but sometimes there isn’t one.

When I was writing short stories and angst ridden poems in my teens, I never showed them to anyone because I didn’t want to be judged by my peers, parents or teachers.

Unless it was for my writing class, no one saw it, not even a girlfriend. That last part was mostly from learning that those you date will use things you’ve told them against you in the harshest ways possible.

I didn’t have many friends in high school, and even less in middle school, but those I did have had no interest in my writings. Showing them to my parents would have been a one way ticket to a therapist’s office, not a good thing.

Fourth disbelief: Your lack of faith in yourself is always the thing which holds you back from doing so many things.

You worry about the consequences. About the after..

Look at what you do as if there were no After.

We should think about life as right now. What you’re doing right now, what you’re writing right now is the most important story in the world.

Remind yourself of this daily, either through meditation, prayer or notes pasted around your dwelling.

These subtle things will keep you wanting to do the things for you. They’ll remind you of a couple of things, 1, You’re important…2, What you write is important and 3, You’re important.

Finding yourself and not doing what the world wants is what makes each of us unique.

Keep being unique, never let anyone change that and keep writing…

 

 

Crawling from the Chasm of Doubt and into the Pool of TM.

When we think about truth, we usually think about the opposite, lies.

What if the opposite of truth weren’t a lie, you just didn’t know the truth to begin with?

This is how I came to understand my life before TM. The fact that I’ve improved my life, relationships and writing through TM isn’t the big thing, it’s discovering the lie we’re told as kids.

The lie says this: We have to follow the things those before us did. We must have the family, job and spiritual life of our parents h. At least that’s what I believed growing up.

In truth, we’ve always been in control, but the things we didn’t know about who we were are great enough they were overwhelming and thus creating a chasm of doubt you’ll struggle to climb out of your entire life, not mention the loss of creativity due to trying to climb from the chasm.

Each day we wake up and decide what to do with our life.

What if you could get past the lie and create a world all your own and dive into a deep, calming pool twice a day? A pool filled with radiance you’d never felt before.

This is how TM (Transcendental Meditation) feels.

I wake up an hour earlier than I did before TM, I go to bed earlier and I have more energy than I did in my teens.

One the biggest, and most obvious to those who know me is the feeling of your mind being at rest all day. There are hiccups, but for the most part nothing bothers me.

I go through my day job with such energy people have asked what I’m taking. None of them know what’s going on, and I like it that way. I like to keep them guessing.

My creativity is higher than its ever been. I can recall my dreams, and nightmares, with clarity; something I’ve never been able to do before.

Writing is no longer as difficult as it once was, the editing side still is. The first draft comes faster, I get in a rhythm earlier and I hit “The Zone” earlier than I have with anything I’ve written before.

I’m taking more time to enjoy my wife, kids and my wonderful 16 year-old dog.

Honestly, there a million ways to describe TM, but until you try it, you’ll never understand.

If you have any questions about TM, ask them here or find me on Twitter.

Writers, stories come from anywhere.

French Quarter

While I stared at nightlife along cobblestone of the French Quarter, a man stopped in front of me. He wore no smile, he bore no burden, he only looked at me, nodded his head and kept going.

My wife was nowhere to be seen, my fedora, which I began wearing again resting softly against my scalp, pulled at me, as if it were saying follow him.

I stumbled along the cobblestone, my shoes scuffing as I nearly fell a few times in pursuit of the man, he turned a corner, I followed. Then, when I nearly gave up, he turned, tipped his top hat and began walking again.

Through alleyways, in front of churches and finally I was on Bourbon Street. The man, the gleam of his top hat catching the light of the gas lamps lining the street, glowed eerily, but I pressed on.

I was nearly out of breath when I caught up to him, grabbed him by a dirty sleeve coat, and asked him, “Why?”

He looked at me quizzically, “Young sir, you’ve been chasing me through the quarter, I thought you were mad, or inebriated, but standing next to you, I know you’re neither. What could I do for you?” He said.

My eyes must have looked like fire as I stood underneath a gas lamp of the quarter, “I only wish to thank you.” I said.

“Thank me?” He said, his large eyebrows crawling into his scalp.

“Yes sir, you’ve given me plenty to write about when I return home.” I said.

“Than this has been a good trip indeed.” He said and vanished into nothingness.

Stories can come from anywhere, remember that.