Once upon a time, there was a blank page.
It was an evil blank page.
The writer came to it, and screamed in horror.
Then she took a pen.
The pen was sharp and stabby.
It was a very good pen.
Ink dripped off the nib and onto the page.
Then it splattered all over the room as the writer stabbed and ripped the paper to shreds.
Do you ever wonder about how an author would describe you in a novel? Not only your appearance but the way you talk and laugh and hold yourself and all the expressions on your face?
I finished my homework then worked on my novel. So much angst and death.
Only 1600 words into my novel and I’m already planning on killing someone off. >:)
A snake came writhing, crawling on its belly. He shed his skin and left it in the dust, his pilgrimage complete.
“The novelist Chaim Potok recalls being urged by his mother to forgo writing: ‘Be a brain surgeon. You’ll keep a lot of people from dying; you’ll make a lot more money.’ Potok’s response: ‘Mama, I don’t want to keep people from dying; I want to show them how to live.’”
-Social Psychology by David G. Myers.