Writers without borders

So I wrote 1,000 words a day after I came back from my holiday, sometimes even more (good -girl-patting-my-own-shoulder-thing-going-on-at-this-moment). I felt good about writing too.

I entered three competitions, started a new short story and went on with my "novel".

The thing is, although at the beginning writing became easier, I now find it extremely hard to go on with my stories. It's like a spell has been lifted or the effect of some kind of drug is wearing off. So I don't write. But I find that writing about not writing is quite idiotic, so I'll try not to write about not writing.

Instead I'll write about why I think I don't write, which is far more interesting.

My Opus Magnum a.k.a. the reason I don't sleep well at night

I have had an idea for a novel ever since I was 17. The sudden illumination came during class (I must have been bored to the point of a nearly vegetative state) and I wrote down in 20 words what the story would be about on the last page of my biology book, between learning about the human genome and the heredity pattern for the sex chromosomes (how can one NOT get inspired???)

If it sounds like writing, I rewrite it

I just read a very interesting article in the NY Times by Elmore Leonard, concerning the 10 things a writer should avoid when writing.

Here it is:
http://www.nytimes.com/2001/07/16/arts/writers-writing-easy-adverbs-exclamation-points-especially-hooptedoodle.html

Enjoy!

Where does the love go?

So...where have I been for the past month? What is my reason for being a sorry excuse of a blogger and neglecting the few people who actually care enough to read this? And the answer is, I have been "buried" under a pile of work which kept me busy every day for 2 weeks in a row until late at night. So there you have it. Money doesn't magically appear in my pockets. I actually have to do something for it! Isn't that a bitch?

But, when I wasn't translating, I was relaxing watching films. And during that time I watched an amazing film about relationships. I know some of my friends don't see eye to eye with me when I say it was great, but I agree to disagree with them and insist: IT WAS!

The film in question is "Blue Valentine" and I thoroughly recommend it to anyone interested in watching a realistic depiction of some human relationships, that leaves you with a sweet-sour aftertaste in the end.

This post is not going to dwell on the film-making of this movie, but the train of thought it led to afterwards. The basic question of the story is "Where did the love go?", or where does any love go, once it's gone? And the answer is actually simple: down the drain. Sort of...

Beach in Gutturu 'e Flumini, Sardegna

I have thought many times about relationships and why some work and some don't. And the truth is, I don't think there's a magic rule to having the perfect relationship. Well, let me correct that: There is no perfect relationship to begin with.

I think finding the right person is half of the deal. Making it work with that person is the other half. And if it doesn't,well...maybe they weren't the right one, maybe the timing was wrong, maybe you gave up too easily, maybe a relationship wasn't really what you wanted, who knows? I've heard many crazy stories about couples coming together and breaking up: some funny and some pure tragic. But I guess it all boils down to luck, (yes I said luck, because that's what it takes to meet someone you can love and who can love you back the same way, respect you, someone who wants the same things, makes you laugh, someone you can count on) and then persistence in keeping what you have with that person alive.

The biggest fairytale ever written, is that once Cinderella or Snow White or Sleeping Beauty or Maria la del Barrio found the Prince and defeated all enemies set out to destroy their love, everything magically fell into place and they spent the rest of their lives happily ever after, living in a condo/tower/beach hut, with many little dwarfs/maids/foreign nannies, popping out babies like bunnies, not having a care in the world. WRONG!

Because after all they had been through to be with each other (the evil step moms, poisoned apples, scary dragons, etc.) there was one more tiny little detail they had forgotten all about: They still had to live with each other. BAZINGA! Now who's laughing?

And once you share every day with Prince Charming, you have to learn to tolerate the little things that bother you about him and vice versa and then you also have to find a way not to forget why you loved him in the first place. All I can say, is that every single relationship is different, because every single one of us is different, but one thing's for sure: None of them are easy.

When the love is gone, maybe we shouldn't try to find it with a PI, but rather wonder why it left in the first place. Maybe it will then come back or maybe not. Who knows? I certainly don't and to tell you the truth, I hope I will never have to find out.

Burning the midnight oil

So much for not neglecting this blog...Well, at least you will be pleased to know that I have written one short-story and two flash-fiction pieces since the last time I posted here and besides that I have completed reading "On Writing" by Stephen King and started reading "The tortilla curtain" by T.C. Boyle (which shows a lot of promise).

"On Writing" was a great book. If anything, it lifts the veil of the writing fairy-tale and myths and confronts some simple truths about it, which personally made my life a little easier. If you're looking for a book that will take you by the hand and give you all the much desired "tricks" to write the next best-seller...well then this isn't what you're looking for.

But for those eager to find out, how the mind of probably one of the most successful contemporary fiction writers works and how he makes his magic happen, then rest assured this book is everything you ever wanted. I thoroughly recommend it to any writer! King doesn't promise to turn you into a best-selling author. What he does say though, is that hard work almost always pays off, unless you are a really bad writer. In that case, there is no hope for you. Sorry! Try cleaning a car instead.

I will keep up my writing then (in the hope that I am not a really bad writer) and submit to short story competitions and literary magazines. And should I get accepted for publication or actually make a shortlist of any kind, you can count on me shouting it out from the rooftop and in this blog, for the whole world to hear.

I think I should go to sleep now. I still have to work tomorrow.

"I can do better than this!"

Steven King's advice to aspiring writers

On writing

I started this blog because I wanted to do something about my writing. I wanted to get it out there. Practice the craft of telling stories and hear what other people thought of it. So far though I haven't written so much in that respect. I am shying away from actually doing what I set out to do, because let's face it: It's terrifying.

Writing is a very personal thing. You put your heart into it in the hope that, what you have to say will interest other people. It may even be considered vain. To me it's a necessity.

I've been writing ever since I could hold a pen steady enough in my hand and put coherent sentences onto paper. My first poem was called "Travelling" and it talked about the joys of seeing the world. I was 9 or 10 when I wrote it. I kept a diary for most of my life. My first diary was a little magenta block, where I wrote things like: when I got my dog, what I did at my aunt's house when I visited and so on. The entries became more eloquent with time and it was the most cathartic process during the awkward years of adolescence with all its frustrations, heartbreaks, fights with family and friends, school or just the stress of growing up. I continued writing when I went to university. I wrote short stories in the form of grown-up fairy tales, poems, anything that went through my mind and needed to get out.

I stopped writing for 5 years. They were good years, probably the best so far, but something was missing. When I realised I needed to write in order to feel complete and happy, I decided to do something about it. So I enrolled on a course. Maybe you find the idea ridiculous; "A course to learn how to write! All you need is talent". Talent is the start. The rest is the work you put into it.

I don't expect to learn how to write. I am hoping for guidance, in order to see if what I'm doing has potential, to get into some useful writing habits and maybe gain a different perspective on the art that's telling stories.

Try writing a book or, better yet, forget about the book. Try writing a good short story and you'll see that writing is more than an instant inspiration. It takes time, discipline, perseverance, patience and many cups of coffee. Writing is a risk. There's no safe way doing it. There's no magic rule for a good novel. There are no rules in general. You just have to sit down and do it and hope that what comes out, is worthy reading.

So yeah, I'm scared about putting myself out there, for the whole world to see and judge. I'm going to take it one step at a time. I'll start by saying that, from now on, I will try posting things relevant to writing and not random topics. II'll write about the troubles and joys of writing, I'll post links that I think might be interesting or useful to any other writers out there. And at last, I'll even attempt to show you what I'm made of: a universe of fiction characters living in my head fighting for their voices to be heard.

I hope you'll stick around.

REC

What is it about horror movies? Honestly, I don't get it. I know I'm stepping on many toes here but I don't really care.

Maybe I just don't like spending two hours of my life watching how one or more psychos/monsters/evil spirits etc. terrorize, torture and eventually chop up some poor, unsuspecting 20-somethings (have you noticed that old people almost never find themselves in such a messy situation - what IS up with that?) who could've saved themselves a LOT of drama if they had just picked a different movie to star in.

The not-so-lonely Planet

During the last seven years I've had the fortune of visiting 64 cities in 10 countries, or so TripAdvisor tells me. It's not much, but it's a start. I can't even begin to describe what travelling means to me. It's a reason to live. Period.

The very first time I was away in a foreign country, was October 2003, when I came to Germany as a student for one semester. It was one of the best experiences of my life. I remember dragging two large suitcases, one fully packed back-pack and a handbag he size of aforementioned suitcases (all weighing approx. 30 kilos) at the airport. I got on a train for the first time in my life accompanied by my fellow students. As the carriages sped through the German landscape, I watched out the window speechless. I wasn't as awestruck by what I saw, but by the fact that it was all new and different! I remember pointing at the houses and telling my friends "Look at the rooftops, aren't they pretty? They're sooo German". Of course back then I didn't really know what "sooo German" was, but that didn't matter.

 The second trip I took to a foreign country was Luxembourg. One of the things that impressed me the most was a magnificent tower in a castle that looked a lot like the one Rapunzel might have dropped her ridiculously extravagant pony-tail down from. I later found out that it was actually a bank, like most buildings in Luxembourg. After the initial disenchantment I decided I didn't care. It was still beautiful!

There are no ways to describe my state of mind when I board on a plane or get in the car for a trip some place new. I'm high on adrenaline, endorphins and whatever other chemicals my body produces when I land somewhere I've never been before.

"Road" sign in Sicily...

Even the slightest things are hilarious, like trying to cross a street in England. This goes something like: I look to the left, I look to the right and then run for my life. I can never tell where the cars are going to come from.

Or facing the inside of a Spanish tapas bar for the first time, where the floor looks as if napkins and cigarette butts fell in love, had amazingly messy sex and popped out many little babies that went on reproducing. I was told that it's considered to be a good thing if the place looks like a pig sty: it means that it's popular and the remnants of the day show how many people visited it...go figure.

I can't wait to open my wings and fly across the ocean, to see, touch, taste, smell, and hear even more. I dream of busy metropolises, sandy beaches with palms, big museums, picturesque little villages and alternative night clubs. And on that note I will now go to sleep and count sheep until I find myself dreaming of those things. Good night and good luck.

Me

I am a 27-year old writer trapped in the body of a translator (not the kind that translates Martin Amis and Philip Roth, but the one that deals with sentences like "silane-modified polymers" and "put screw 1 into hole 2" - not as exciting as it sounds I can assure you...)