by Naomi L. | July 19, 2013 | Flash Fiction, J.C. Wolfe's Writing |
Backstage, she was a sweet and outgoing young girl. Behind the scenes, she had a happy life with her family and friends. Everyone loved her.
But when the lights came on, she was suddenly a different person.
The world around her changed. Before a watching crowd, she would transform into any character she wished. One night, she was that adorable little girl dancing in the chorus line; another, the diva singing her heart out in the spotlight. She could take on any role from a timid teenager to a fiery vaudevillian chanteuse, and always put every bit of her soul into her act. She stood a cut above the rest, never failing to charm her audience and draw them into her world.
And still, everyone loved her.
The way she spoke, the way she sang, the way she danced captivated every person who couldn’t take their eyes off her, following her every move executed with impeccable grace and confidence. No matter what part she played, her heart and soul always shone through, and after each performance, the truth became ever clearer to the world watching in awe from off the stage…
That sweet and outgoing young girl was a rising star.
Happy Birthday to my incredibly talented baby sister and favorite actress! You’re a wonderful performer, and I wish you all the best in everything you do. I know you’ll make it big someday! Keep reaching for the stars! I love you!
by Naomi L. | July 17, 2013 | Blog, Creative Writing |
I love TED Talks. From science to politics to social topics, they’re always inspiring to watch, and they’ve opened my eyes to quite a few fascinating perspectives in a wide array of global issues. But one Talk that really – if you’ll pardon the pun – spoke to me as a creative and soft-spoken individual was author Susan Cain‘s take on the power of introverts.
This video was shared with me some time ago by my best friend, a young man just as introverted as I am who found this Talk very inspiring for people like us (and those who wish to understand us). Instead of running through the entire 19-minute transcript, I thought it more convenient to embed the video here for others to watch themselves. Enjoy!
(Note: in case it doesn’t load properly on the page you’re reading, you can watch the Talk on its original TED page here, where you can also find a full transcript).
[ted id=1377]
Since there isn’t much I can add that Mrs. Cain hasn’t already covered perfectly well, I just want to give a brief review of how I can personally relate to her Talk and the ways I consider her case valid to my experience in creative writing.
Avid reader
I too spent much of my childhood reading books. Although most of my reading time was in the privacy of my own bedroom, I did make a habit of carrying books in my backpack to enjoy at school. Whenever I felt exhausted by the energy of my surrounding classmates (which was quite often), I would find a quiet corner and retreat into the world of my books to recharge. Maybe it seemed like an overly reclusive practice, but in a way, my books were like a lifesaver that helped me through my grade-school years.
Introversion vs. Shyness
I’m glad Mrs. Cain brought up this distinction, as it’s important to know there’s a difference. A great example of this is my dad: he’s one of the most social and friendly people I know, but when it comes to work, he much prefers handling tasks on his own. My dad is what some might consider an unusual type of individual: an outgoing introvert.
Having noted this, I’d like to point out that I’m both introverted and shy. The main difference is that my shyness is a trait that I’d like to be able to overcome, at least to the point where it no longer holds me back from doing most of the things I’d like to try in my life; whereas my introversion is a characteristic that I will always be proud to consider an important part of my personality. In other words, I’m not always happy about being shy, but I am always happy about being introverted.
In the classroom
At the risk of sounding boastful, I was an excellent student growing up. I’m talking straight-A, perfect-record, all-my-teachers-loved-me excellent. And I honestly believe that my introverted personality played a major role in my academic achievements. That’s not to say that extroverted students were beneath my level; my best friend in middle school was an extrovert, and she was in the gifted program with me. My low-key approach to my studies just worked best for me because the time I used to work on my own allowed me to think much more clearly.
However, I do remember some classes I took in elementary and middle school where the desks were arranged in the pods described in the above video, so I’d have to be facing at least three other students and often work with them in group assignments. I understood the point of this arrangement, but to be frank, I much preferred the rows.
Solitude = creativity
I agree with the speaker’s argument that we shouldn’t stop collaborating altogether, nor should we stop valuing the great qualities that extroverts bring to the table, but we should at least have a decent balance between teamwork and solitude, since the latter is often important for creativity to blossom. I’ve always found that my best ideas come to me whenever I’m alone with my thoughts, especially when I have plenty of time to daydream (one of my favorite pastimes). But I know that writing isn’t a completely solitary profession, which brings me to my final point…
The budding writer
I love creative writing for the freedom I feel it gives me. I’m in total control of my ideas, my characters, my settings and plots. But there’s only so much enjoyment I can get out of writing on my own, because after I finish shaping my ideas into my stories, I can’t wait to share them with the rest of the world, and that requires stepping out of my introverted shell.
I know that after I finish my novels, I’m going to have to put them out there somehow, helping to promote them and get them to the readers that I want to inspire. And I think I’m OK with that. As long as I still get to be my introverted self (and be appreciated for it), I’m OK with having to face the extroverted lifestyle once in a while for the sake of that all-important balance for which Susan Cain so strongly advocates. Looking up to the countless introverts who have graced the world with their amazing qualities, I hope to have equal courage to – as she so wonderfully puts it – speak softly.
What about you? Are you an introvert or an extrovert (or an ambivert)? How well can you relate to Susan Cain’s Talk? Do any of these notes apply to you?
by Naomi L. | July 15, 2013 | Blog, Word of the Week |
Word: exacerbate
Pronunciation: ig-ZA-sər-bayt
Part of Speech: verb
Definition: make (a problem, bad situation, or negative feeling) worse
Source: Oxford Dictionaries
“Exacerbate” isn’t a word I’ve seen or heard a lot in my lifetime. In fact, I didn’t even discover it until I started studying vocabulary words for a standardized test I took as a requirement for university admissions. The first time I read it on the flashcard, I might have guessed that it had a similar definition to the word that it sounds the most like: “exasperate”. Turns out that’s a common mistake, though these two words are not as unalike as common test prep materials might have you believe…
To “exacerbate” something is to take a bad situation and make it worse. For instance, a movie or play with a terrible script can still be exacerbated by poor direction and talentless actors. The word stems from the Latin verb exacerbare (“make worse”), which in turn is made up of the roots ex- (as in inducement of a state) and acerbus (“harsh, bitter”). Interestingly, this verb can also mean “irritate”, placing it in the same lane as the common word with which “exacerbate” is easily confused. Note, however, that “exasperate” has slightly different roots behind it (such as asper, meaning “rough”), so this shouldn’t be mistaken as a green light to use them as synonyms. The noun “exacerbation” may have meant “provocation to anger” in the past, but for the sake of modern comprehension, it’s probably best to just acknowledge the words in their separate current definitions!
So remember, as much as they may seem similar, these are two different words that are intended to have two different meanings. Take care in your choice of verbs; you don’t want to exasperate your readers by exacerbating your flawed writing with mixed-up vocabulary!
What are your thoughts on this word? Any suggestions for future “Word of the Week” featured words?
by Naomi L. | July 12, 2013 | J.C. Wolfe's Writing, Short Stories |
“Cela? Cela, you’re up.”
The illusion of darkness was broken as a pair of amber eyes opened to look up at the silhouette towering over them.
“Celandine, did you hear me?”
As her eyes adjusted to the light, the young woman saw the face of her friend – a well-built man with bushy hair – looking down at her in concern.
“I heard you, Lee…”
“It’s your turn. You don’t wanna keep ’em waiting…”
Celandine didn’t move right away, sitting with her back to the wall as she looked around at the dozen other people in the room. From the flaky old man crouching in the shadows to the mousy girl flitting in and out of the light every few minutes, each face had a story to tell. But it was always the same story.
“I can’t…”
“You don’t have a choice!”
The two friends turned simultaneously to see who had spoken. A tall, slender woman emerged from the shade, eyes gleaming almost menacingly in the light.
“You have to do this, Cela”, she said softly, ” for all of us. Remember their promise…”
“I don’t believe them, Psi!” Celandine rose to her feet to level with the approaching woman. “They were never gonna set us free! We’re just animals to them! They like controlling us, keeping us for display! They’re all liars!”
“You won’t know that until you finish the task you were trained for!” The taller woman turned to the young man beside her. “Leonidas, help me out.”
“Psipsina’s right; if you don’t go through with this tonight, they might never let us go. Please, just get up there…”
“And let all those people stare at me like the freak I’m supposed to be?!”
As she shouted these words, the young woman thrust her right arm out to the side. Still her greatest desire for the last five years remained unfulfilled, for where she wished she could be seeing smooth bare flesh, there were nothing but brown feathers.
“I’m not normal!” Celandine continued tearfully. “None of us are! You think Lee wanted to be born part-lion? And you, Psi? I don’t remember you ever saying you love having pointed ears and a cat’s tail! I’m sick of these wings that were never meant for me! I hate being a Hybrid! I wanna be human!”
“Ungrateful child!” All eyes now turned to the elderly man in the corner, who rose to his feet and stepped into the light as he glared at the avian woman through livid reptilian eyes. “You dare defy the humans’ will? You’re a product of years of refined biotechnology, a marvel of genetic engineering! They made you the superior being that you are; you owe them the chance to proudly display their work to the world! Now get out there and fulfill your purpose, siren!”
Celandine felt a tear slide down her cheek as she looked up at the saurian man now standing a foot from her face. “Siren” was one of the derogatory terms that inevitably came with having a humanoid body with the wings of a bird. “Harpy” was even worse, but fortunately, not as common. Noticing his friend’s despondency, Leonidas offered her a kind smile and reached out to gently stroke her feathered arm.
“Don’t worry, Cela”, he whispered. “You’re not a freak; everyone else will see that. Now get out there and make ’em wish they were Hybrids. After tonight, you’ll be free.”
The young woman gazed fondly into her friend’s yellow eyes, then timidly dropped her gaze to his torso. His standard-issue jumpsuit did little to hide the superhuman muscle of his Spartan-esque physique, and she had always admired the dark human-like skin on his powerful arms. After a minute’s hesitation, she reluctantly nodded.
“All right, I’ll do it… for you.”
Though her lips spoke the words as if addressing the entire group, her eyes deemed the promise exclusive to her dearest friend. With her head held high in newfound determination, Celandine strode past the others toward the plasma screen on the opposite wall, which was currently showing her test subject profile. Upon stepping into the cylindrical chamber beside it, she was immediately scanned from head to toe by the same invasive laser that had verified all her peers before her. Then the lift slowly rose into the opening ceiling, until the next thing she knew, she was staring through the glass at a sea of white coats and curious faces. As the chamber door opened onto a stage, an amplified voice echoed through the enormous hall.
“And finally, Specimen Omega of the Fusion Project: the Avian.”
The Hybrid slowly stepped out of the chamber to approach the transparent barrier near the edge of the stage. The moment she reached her mark, the spectacled man at the lectern to her far left spoke into the microphone again, his voice booming through the speakers. By now she knew every cue of the speech by heart, and followed her routine with mechanical precision: spreading her feathered arms to first display her wings from the front, then turning to show the back; demonstrating her agility through the obstacle course erected on the platform; and showing off her flight capabilities by gliding between the perches placed on either end of the enclosed portion of the stage. She fulfilled her purpose, exactly the way she’d been trained.
Throughout her demonstration, the spokesman’s words echoed hollowly in Celandine’s ears, the same words she’d been hearing for the past half-decade. “Fusion”… “splicing”… “Hybrids”… “spy units”… “future of military operations”… None of them meant anything to her. She was just going through the motions, waiting for a promise that might never be fulfilled. As she returned to her mark, she gazed out at the multitude of eyes staring back at her in awe, scanning the audience one last time before she would be called back into the lower deck.
Then two things happened in quick succession: she noticed the control panel window high on the back wall, and a second later, a grinding noise from above drew the attention of the entire room. The enclosure roof had gotten stuck while being replaced after the flight demonstration, leaving an opening to the bright ceiling. Suddenly, the Hybrid knew what she had to do. It was now or never…
Celandine spread her wings and took off with the speed of a falcon. By the time anyone realized what was happening, she was halfway across the hall, flying over the panicking crowd toward the controls that would grant freedom to her and her friends. Her focus was unfaltering; she barely heard the alarms going off, and she didn’t see the uniformed men charging past the fleeing scientists…
But she did feel the sharp pain of 100,000 volts coursing through her body at once. Stunned in midair, she crashed into the window at high speed, shattering the glass as she fell onto the controls that triggered the opening of the Hybrid deck and the doors leading out of the symposium hall. Weakened by the collision, the avian then plummeted the several feet to the ground, some of the large glass shards falling after her only seconds before she hit the floor…
A great roar resounded over the screams of the crowd, driving the humans out the doors at twice their initial speed. The dazed Celandine noticed the pairs of black boots near her head retreating with the stun gun probes in tow, then the silhouettes of several wild-looking figures barreling toward her up the aisle as a familiar voice called her name…
“Cela!”
The young woman felt her upper body being lifted into a pair of strong lionlike arms. Only then did she notice the rather sizable shard of glass jutting out of her abdomen, as well as the red stain spreading on the floor beneath her. Still numb with shock, she looked faintly up into the yellow eyes that were gazing anxiously back into her amber ones.
“Cela”, Leonidas whispered, “what did you do?”
And then the young man saw something he hadn’t seen in years: a smile forming on his best friend’s lips. While the rest of the Hybrids chased the humans back during their escape, Celandine found comfort in her friend’s embrace, now gazing past him into the bright lights of the metallic ceiling to which, for one minute, she had been close enough to touch.
“I told you I’d do it…” she breathed, “for you. You were right. Thank you, Lee…”
The noises around her were beginning to fade. Leonidas’s face was becoming blurred. She couldn’t feel his tears on her lacerated face, and she barely heard the three words he was uttering to her now. But Celandine was content, for gone with everything else was the life of imprisonment and helplessness she had known for too long, and as the silver skies above her slowly grew dark, her smile never faltered in the light of the truth…
She was free.
This story was my entry for the Dark Futures Contest recently held by Writer’s Carnival in collaboration with Dark Futures e-Zine. The rule was to write a science fiction or horror story, 1500 words or less, that was themed around a gathering of people. The theme I chose for my sci-fi story was a symposium for genetic engineering, the main characters being human-animal Hybrid test subjects. With the contest now over and the winners’ stories already published on the DF website, I decided to share my (slightly edited) piece here on my blog for others to read. Enjoy!
Special thanks to Writer’s Carnival and Dark Futures for hosting the contest, and congratulations to the winners!
by Naomi L. | July 10, 2013 | Blog, Creative Writing, Writer's Toolkit |
I realize I haven’t written a Writer’s Toolkit piece since my review of What If? Writing Exercises for Fiction Writers. For my second post in this topic, instead of a specific book, I’ve decided to write a brief review of the importance of a more general tool that every serious writer should have at their disposal: a personal journal.
Writer’s Journal
I’m sure we all remember the innocent grade school days when the most trustworthy friend we had was that little book sitting in our bedroom, whose sole purpose was to guard our deepest thoughts and feelings. Many of us at one time or another have owned a notebook of some sort that we kept as a diary or journal (I myself kept quite a few during my childhood and adolescence). It was our outlet for the private ideas we couldn’t share with anyone else, an emotional release that left us with the satisfaction of knowing our secrets were still safe from the rest of the world. But for the budding writers among the countless young people pouring their hearts out in secret, that book was so much more. While all the other children and teenagers would keep their journals and diaries as a vent, we writers would keep them as a net to catch the little seeds dispersed throughout our lives that could eventually grow into our stories.
A journal is an important tool for any writer mostly because it serves as a log of the potential story ideas that might otherwise elude us. To give a personal example, during my college years, I kept a journal in my backpack in which I would write the thoughts and emotions I experienced while at my university. The book was a record of my college life, and several of its entries – about which I might otherwise have forgotten – later became inspiration for my fiction writing. Without that journal, I likely would have missed a lot of opportunities to find relatable traits for my characters or interesting scenarios for stories.
But my journals have helped me in an even greater capacity. Writing down my thoughts and being able to read them back objectively has allowed me to gain a better understanding of how I tend to see the world around me, and consequently, learn how I can best channel my ideas into my writing. On top of that, while my fiction pieces are for showcasing my refined writer’s voice, my private journals are for unleashing the raw voice fresh out of my mind that has yet to be shaped into the stories I want to tell. As I’ve come to realize, even creative writing comes with basic rules when intended for other readers, but when writing just for yourself, there are absolutely no limitations except you.
Summary
Advantages of Keeping a Journal
- Intellectual and emotional release
- Keep a record of possible ideas for future stories
- Objectively observe and understand the voice(s) in your head
- Unleash your raw creativity without inhibitions
Based on my experience (as well as similar accounts from other more established writers, including authors to be mentioned in future Writer’s Toolkit posts), I highly recommend keeping a personal journal as a good exercise for any writer. Sure, many of us probably don’t have the time to fill half a dozen journal pages (or even one) every day, especially in these modern times of ultra-busy lives filled with a hundred daily tasks that leave us exhausted by the time we get a chance to crawl into bed. Still, it’s good practice to set aside at least a few minutes every day to jot down some key observations of recent events, no matter how simple. Remember, even if your thoughts don’t seem particularly interesting at the time of writing, you never know if they could prove useful in the future!
Thanks for reading! Now, if you haven’t already done so, go and start your journal! Happy writing!
Recent Comments