Update From Personal Diary: April 20th 2010

Sitting here in the middle of CAMH waiting for mum to come out of her first meeting with the doctor.  I’ve literally got knots in my stomach.  This isn’t the first time we’ve been here.  Well, not here specifically but “here” as in the situation.  It’s been 8, no, maybe less than 8 years now since she was diagnosed with depression – it feels like longer.

It’s been less then 6 when she was diagnosed with a schizoaffective disorder.  It’s been…hell.  There’s no other way to describe it.  It’s like living in a bubble, or rather, that’s what it feels like.  I would be lying to myself if I said that this whole situation hasn’t effected me to.

All that energy, that motivation during NANOWRIMO (National Novel Writing Month), is now almost completely gone.  But somehow I’m finding the strength to write this.  There’s a glimmer of hope in me, I suppose.

I can hear them talking in the other room, and I can’t help but wonder, since I can hear the hesitation in mum’s voice what she must be thinking.  We’ve been here so many times, this must be, maybe the 3rd of 4th hospital we’ve been to.  Although I don’t know if I’d classify the CAMH (Centre for Addiction and Mental Health) a hospital.  The environment feels lighter, friendly even, not so stuck up and judgement.

What’s harder is the fact that the disorder mum has is based in paranoia, it’s hard for her to trust people, which is why we’ve been here so often.  The medication helps some.  Keeps these tendencies under control, but they haven’t completely gone away, and I doubt, although I sincerely hope, that they will one day.

Because of this whole situation, I myself, have been depressed.  Who wouldn’t be?  I just seem to lack any sort of motivation.  Even the motivation to go back to school.  I feel so lost.  As the months start and finish I just feel like I’m hanging on by the skin of my teeth.  I try so hard to keep it all together.  But sometimes it just gets a bit too much and I wish I’d just die.

I’ve spoken to mum about this, because I feel like she’s the only person, who understands.  And she is.  But maybe I need to seek professional help, before I truly snap.

There are days where I feel okay.  Life feels bearable, and other days not so much.  Today is a good day.  I feel like we’ve possibly taken a step in the right direction by coming here.  I feel better.  More hopeful.  But I’m not going to get my hopes up completely, just to have them smashed.  Let’s just say, I’m weary and hopeful.

Right, I can hear them coming.  More soon. x

Now What?

“Writing isn’t just a job that stops at six-thirty…It’s a mad, sexy, sad, scary, obsessive, ruthless, joyful, and utterly, utterly personal thing.  There’s not the writer and then me; there’s just me.  All of my life connects to the writing.  All of it.” — Russell T. Davies

So, at around 10:30 pm last night, I crossed the metaphoric finish line of NaNoWriMo.  I hit 50,000 words.  But did I stop writing?  No.  And I don’t plan to.  Ever.

I learned a lot about myself while participating in NaNoWriMo this year.  I’m tougher than I thought I was.  It never occurred to me for a moment that I would actually win NaNo.  I can’t tell you all the number of times that I wanted to give up.  And almost did.

There were times where I wanted to tear the hair out of my head, cut myself, bang my head against the table, or kill myself.  It was incredibly hard to keep going, even with all the encouragement.  I did what a lot of writers during NaNo make the mistake of doing; I read over my work.

It was (and still is) rubbish.  I felt horrible, I thought who in the world would want to read this?!  It doesn’t even make any sense. But after calming myself down, going on the NaNo forums, I realized that everyone felt the same way.  Firsts drafts are never meant to be good, it’s all about getting the idea written on the page during NaNo.  Nothing more.  Your idea doesn’t have to be perfect, your plot doesn’t have to make sense, your characters don’t even have to be fully developed yet.  It’s all about the idea.

Right.  So the ideas are written down, the dialogue written, the characters developed (somewhat)…now what do I do?  

1) I’m going to go through each story and rip it to shreds.  Metaphorically speaking of course.  I’m going to strip away the rubbish, add to, cut and expand on scenes.  And basically edit the hell out of it until it’s begging for mercy!  But I shall be ruthless and cruel!

2) Give it to people to read.  This is going to be tough for me because I always fret about what people think.  Yes, I know I shouldn’t but it’s genetic.  It’s built in.  I suppose if I want to be a writer, then I should get use to negative comments.  Guess I’ve got to develop a thick skin.

3) And probably, more editing after that…

4) Then maybe, possibly consider getting it published?  There are lots of Doctor Who tie-in books, so this could be a possibility.  As my mum says: “Nothing ventured, nothing gained.”

While I’m editing my first novel (how wild is that?!) There are also some other writing projects that I have to take care of:

1) I promised a couple of my friends that I’d finish writing my Harry Potter Prequel and I keep putting it off.  Sorry.  I’ll start the next few chapters in a few days!  I know i’ve kept you waiting for over a year, I’m a horrible friend, what can I say? :p

2) Doctor Who radio play/screenplay.  This will be something new for me.  I’ve never written a screenplay before and the format baffles me slightly, but I’m learning!  The reason I want to attempt this is because of this guy:

http://www.youtube.com/user/timelordfromhell 

A couple of months ago he posted this video:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Ph0WgBcDi6g 

Asking for scripts for a 20-25 minute Doctor Who audio drama.  Up until now, I’ve been sitting on this opportunity, because I just didn’t know what to do with it.  But now I have loads of ideas.  There is still the problem of learning how to write a script properly!

3) Script frenzy; brought to you by the people who run NaNoWriMo.  It’s the same concept: starts April the 1st, ends April the 30th.  Thirty days to write a 100 page screenplay.  Why am I telling you this?  Well, I just had so much fun during NaNo that I thought I’d attempt this to!  Why not?  Check out the website: http://www.scriptfrenzy.org/

4) SFX magazine is always looking for freelancers, and I thought that I’d apply and see what happens.  They said and I quote:  ”Formal qualifications are not essential, as we’re really looking for talent, enthusiasm, expertise and an ability to write. Examples of published material or (at the very least) copy written in the magazine’s style or format are essential as part of your application. “

Chances are nothing will come of it, since I’m a newbie to this writing shin-dig.  But if I don’t at least try, I’ll be kicking myself later!

Alright ladies and germs I’m off to finish the last short story in the series! Woo!

 

 

Alright, you asked for it!

Okay, so this is what you’ve been waiting for.  These are just excerpts of the first three stories in my novel, I hope you enjoy reading them as much as I enjoyed writing them!  Keep in mind these are very rough drafts and most of the excerpts will probably change.  Tell me what you think in the comments.

-Dana x

 

This is an excerpt from The Origins of the Cybermen:

Milo knew that if he stopped running, he would die.  But he had to stop.  His sides were beginning to sting painfully in protest.  Slowing down to a quick pace he looked up and down the dark corridor, the lights flickering.  Nothing.  Not a sound.  He wiped sweat from his pale, frightened face, trying to steady his breathing.  

Keeping his back against the wall, he started to edge towards the nearest door.  But all these doors seemed to lead to more corridors, no exit.  It was like a maze.  

Suddenly without warning, he was grabbed from behind. Realizing to late that he was leaning against a door. Two burly security guards in dark blue suits, and blank expressions seized him from either side, grabbing his arms, and forced him painfully to his knees.  The guard on his right, grabbed a fist full on Milo’s dark hair and forced his head upwards.  The guard on his left forced his mouth open.

Although his head was tilted towards the ceiling, he could see a tall, thin, man with gray hair, a tooth brush mustache, and dark gray eyes walking slowly towards him.  Milo stiffened.

“You should have stayed in the lab,” Said the man as he walked closer “Once you enter these doors you’re ours.”

Milo could finally see the man, he was leaning right over him.  The guard on his left, used his hand to hold Milo’s mouth open.  Milo struggled, but it was to no avail.  The man slipped his hand into his pocket and pulled out a small, harmless, looking bluish white pill.

Milo, spoke as best he could, he could barely manage a whisper as the man lend forward.

“Why are you doing this?”  He chocked.

“Doing what?” said the Man with a slight smile on his thin, lips as he forced the pill down Milo’s throat.  “You did volunteer.”

Excerpt from The Findorian Complex:

Opening the TARDIS door, the cold hit them both like a brick wall.  Donna screwed her eyes against the chill.  Through her limited vision, she could see tall cliffs of white stone;  She stepped outside and was shocked to feel her feet hit something wet.  Looking down, her feet were submerged in icy water.  They had landed on a desolate beach. 

Forcing her eyes open wider, Donna could see that they were miles away from civilization, it seemed.  She began to shiver.  Turning her head round, she was about to yell for The Doctor, but there was no need.  He was already standing next to her and holding a long black woolen coat.  She put it on gratefully.

“Can’t you ever wear anything practical?”  The Doctor teased.

“Says the man with only two suits.”

“I have more than two,” The Doctor challenged dusting off his brown suit lightly.  Putting on his coat. “I just happen to like these two colors.  Is that a crime?”

“Suppose not.  And anyway, how can I dress accordingly if I have no idea where we’re going?” She smiled at him.

“I don’t know where we’re going half the time either,” The Doctor answered stepping out of the TARDIS and jumping slightly as his trainer sunk into the ankle deep water.  Looking from side to side, he saw that the shore wasn’t that far away.  Backing slightly into the TARDIS he braced himself.  With an almighty jump he landed perfectly on the stony landscape.  He turned to Donna who was looking uncertainly at the distance between the water and the shore.

“Come on Donna!  You can’t stay in there all day!”

“Don’t rush me space man! I happen to like this dress I’m wearing!”

The Doctor sighed and put his hands in his pockets.  Donna, braced herself in the same way he had and jumped.  But instead of landing like The Doctor had, she landed right in a puddle of luke warm water.  Her new, green dress soaked along with the coat.  She staggered.

“Need a hand?”  The Doctor asked turning back to her.

She looked up at him, with a deadpan expression.

“Thanks.  For.  Nothing.”

The Doctor chuckled.

Except from Stones of Time:

The darkness, seemed absolute.  The stars, that shawn every night, were absorbed by the inky black.  A women with soft brown hair, a plump frame, and great blue eyes was walking along a stony, dirt road.  She wrapped her arms around herself with the aid of her cloak, trying to keep warm against the biting cold wind.  Looking ahead, she could see that the town she was heading towards, was at least another ten minute walk.  But she could see the town illuminated by it’s torches, like beacons.  Her pace quickened.

About five minutes away from the small village, she stopped dead.  Feeling a chill that had nothing to do with the night.  A scream filled the air and broke the din.  It was completely shattering, that the woman felt as though it was consuming her very essence.  As she half ran, half walked towards the village, she could see men, women, and children alike running away from it.  She tried to stop them, but no one wanted to. Grabbing whatever they could from their homes and legging it as fast as they could.  

Confused, Anya pushed forward through the teeming crowd of people.  There did not seem to be any immediate danger.  She could not see what they were possibly running from.  All she knew was that she had to find her son.  He worked in the old mill half way across the village and it was not long before it came into view.  Anya blanched, and stood stalk still at the scene.  The mill was on fire.  

She was transfixed, her legs did not seem as though they wanted to move.  A man who was stained with ash from head to foot, slammed into her as he ran.  She seemed to break out of the trance.

“For all that’s holy, run my dear!  RUN!”  The man yelled after her.  Anya moved forward, towards the mill.  She had to find Micka.  Soon, there was silence, she looked about her.  She was alone.  Completely alone.  She tried to steady her breathing as she walked towards the burning building.  It was impossible to think that anyone could survive this.  She tried to push the thought out of her head.

Moving a little closer, she could feel the intense heat of the flames and took a step backwards, shielding her eyes.  There was no way she could get inside.  As she walked around the perimineter of the mill, slabs of wood began to fall at random.  There was no way inside.

Her eyes seemed to move beyond the mill as she began to take in the rest of the village.  It all was going up in flames.  But what could have caused this?  Where was her son?  Anya looked desperately around her.  There was no sign of life.  She had to try and get out of here, as fast as she could.  Back to her family.  Tears stained her face.  As she turned to walk away, there was a sound of movement from behind her.  Turning back towards the mill, her gaze was met by a shockingly electric blue eye.

“EXTERMINATE!”  The creature said.

There was a horrible flash of light, and Anya’s body glowed a toxic green.  She dropped to the ground, dead before she hit it.

 

NaNoWriMo Prep Post # 2: Scene construction – Quick update

“There’s nothing to writing.  All you do is sit down at a typewriter and open a vein.”  ~Walter Wellesley “Red” Smith

Right.  So this is just a quick update before I go to the land of nod.  I won’t have time to update tomorrow since i’ll be out costume shopping with some friends

Last night, I started planning the scenes that will be included in each story.  What surprised me was the manner in which they came to me.  Out of order.  Each scene that I began to construct came to me in no particular way.  That’s never happened before.  

For me, this felt unusual and wrong, but it seemed to work.  Each of the scenes began to slot themselves together and flow.  It just goes to show there’s no particular way in which to write.  It’s all about what works for you.  I know a few writers that have to do scenes in order because, for them, it wouldn’t make sense otherwise.  In my case, i’m able to write the scenes out of order, construct them.  Build them up then slot them in.

When building a scene, you have to keep in mind the fluidity of it.  You can’t have a scene where you’re character is in the park one second, then all of a sudden in a supermarket the next.  There has to be a reason behind every move.  Everything has to be broken down and explained.   

The breaking down of scenes for me is my issue.  It’s hard, because once I get started writing my stories, I get all excited and just want to rush from scene to scene.  I constantly find myself going back to scenes and asking myself: “What was I thinking?”

 The key is to slow down and breathe.  Break it down.  Make sure everything flows.

 

Days Til NaNoWriMo: 11.  Holy crap 0_0

NaNoWriMo Prep Post #1: Setting

You must stay drunk on writing so reality cannot destroy you.  ~Ray Bradbury

Okay, so here it goes.  I’m really nervous about writing 50,000 words in a month.  But I figure if I plan it out over the next couple of weeks it may make it a little bit easier to start on the first of November.

Once November hits there will be no time for planning, it’s all about the writing.  I already know that I want to write five short stories.  All at about 10,000 words each.  I’ve already chosen a genre (sci-fi ) and have a good idea about how each story will start.

The stories will be centered around the Doctor Who universe, and will correspond with the television series both old and new.

I’ve been wanting to write my own Doctor Who stories for ages now, and thought that NaNoWriMo would be the best way to start.  Now that i’ve committed myself to doing this for the whole entire month, there’s no way i’m going back now.  Whether I win or lose the fact is that I tried. 

So the settings for each of the these short stories, will take place through out time and space.  The great thing about writing stories for Doctor Who is that there are no limits to the setting.  There are no boundaries.

Story number one is going to take place in the present, so 2009 (obviously).  I know that The Doctor is going to meet his new short-term companion in this story, and is going to have to face a new enemy ( I haven’t chosen the villain just yet).

Story number two takes place in the 1920s.  Short-term companion is still with him.  But not for long.

Story number three takes place in the future on a planet 10 million light years from earth.

Story number four  takes place in Bonn Germany around the 1700s.  Companion is a very young Beethoven, before he is deaf.  This one is being written for my friend Vineeta.  We were brain storming one day walking down Bloor and thought that this would be a perfect match for The Doctor.

Story five (the last in this series, but who knows, I may continue writing more :p) will take place on present day earth.  But all is not as it seems.

Of course, all of these settings are just preliminary, and will most likely change.  Except for the first one.  I’m completely set with that, and already have half the story thought out.  What i’m more concerned about is the other four.  But I have time…well, a little over two weeks.

Days Until NaNoWriMo: 16

Taking Risks and The Fear (again)

Hugh Fennyman: So what do we do? 
Philip Henslowe: Nothing. Strangely enough, it all turns out well. 
Hugh Fennyman: How? 
Philip Henslowe: I don’t know. It’s a mystery. 

- Shakespeare in Love.

Oh, I love writing blog posts at 12:03 in the morning.

Summer is almost over and it’s time for everyone to go back to school on tuesday.  Except me.  It feels weird.  I don’t get to experience those butterflies that come with a new school year.

In a sense i’m relieved.  And also terrified.  I know that’s an oxymoron.  But, whatever.

Somewhere deep in my gut I know that things will work themselves out.  They always do, but until then I have a knot in my stomach that refuses to go away.

For the longest time school has been what defines me.  I think it defines a lot of people up until they leave.  But without school what am I?  Apart of the work force?  A grown up?  Ugh.

Though life is being a bastard right now, I maintain hope that things will get better.  Does that make me an idiot?  Yes, I suppose it does but it’s better to live in hope than not to live without any at all.

In these coming months of no school and work, I chose to write.  Writing, I have discovered is better than sitting down and staring at the television screen all day and letting my mind go to mush.

Although, I have to admit television as of late has been quite the inspiration for my passion for writing.  As i’ve mentioned in my two previous blog posts i’ve been reading The Writer’s Tale by Russell T. Davies and Benjamin Cook.  I’m still reading it, and along with it watching Doctor Who and many other television shows.  The book has given me a new respect for television writers.

 Actually writers in general.

Where do these ideas come from?

After reading a few chapters of The Writers Tale, you begin to realize that the imagination is a powerful, amazing and terrifying thing.  The ideas come from anywhere, everywhere.

So why not combine the two?  Television and writing?  I have a passion for both, so why not?  What’s stopping me?

Fear.

That damn fear again.

My ideas, my imagination, are at the mercy of  ”The Fear”.  Basically, i’m afraid of being complete rubbish.

It’s there nagging at the back of my head.  How do I get rid of that?  Do I just take the plunge and hope for the best?

What if I screw up? What if writing isn’t what i’m truly meant to do? What if? What if? WHAT IF?

In the end, I think things end up working themselves out.  I don’t know if writing is my true calling.  Whether i’m meant to do it or not or whether i’m meant to write for television.  What I do know is this:  If I don’t try, if I don’t at least try than, well, i’m back at square one.  Which is nowhere.

I don’t want to be sitting here, years from now kicking myself for not taking the risk.  Life is full of them, i’ve never encountered one that makes me want to bang my head against the wall though.  In a sense this blog is a tiny step, now all I need to do is take the leap.

 

Writer’s Block and the Fear

“Every writer I know has trouble writing.”

-Joesph Heller

Who else suffers with this?

I know i’m not the only one who goes through writer’s block but sometimes it feels like it.

So what to do?

How do I combat this?

I get to a stage in my writing, where the ideas stop flowing.  It’s probably one of the most frustrating things in the world.  On the one hand, you want to keep writing, on the other, there are no ideas coming through.

After reading “A Writer’s Tale” I know that writer’s block never leaves you even as a professional but what is the solution?  Do we just plough through and hope for the best?

For me, trying to continue writing when all the ideas have left is completely unbearable. Especially when I feel what I have written thus far is crap.

Sometimes I become so frustrated staring at the hot computer screen willing something to come it just refuses to.  There is nothing more intimidating than a blank sheet of paper.  Even writing these blogs are hard for me when I face a blank template.

I believe, in the end, that writer’s block in nothing but fear.

Fear of failing.  Fear of disappointing.  Fear of being made a laughing stock.

If you can get past the fear, and write what you feel, maybe even write about the fear than maybe the writing of your next novel, screenplay, blog, or short story will seem a little less daunting.

 

Failure and New Beginnings

“You might never fail on the scale I did, but some failure in life is inevitable.  It is impossible to live without failing at something, unless you live so cautiously that you might as well not have lived at all – in which case you fail by default.”

- J.K. Rowling

Why are we afraid to fail?

Why is it horrible to make a mistake?

Sometimes making mistakes is the best way to figure out what in your life has gone wrong.

Right now, my life is in complete disarray, to an almost overwhelming degree.  And sometimes I feel completely beaten.  As hard as it is, I try to remember that I am not.  

Life is full of obstacles, disappointments and heartaches but there is so much more.  Life doesn’t have to be hard, if you let it.

Stand still and nothing will change.

You have to make it.

One of the reasons I started this blog is to become a better writer, to take that little step, instead of waiting for my life to change.

On a brighter note, today was my day off.  I had planned on going shopping but I over slept then it decided to rain.  So, I decided to stay home, nap and read (which I feel I don’t do enough of).  And I was glad I stayed home.  I became enlightened. 

Right now, i’m reading “The Writer’s Tale” by Russell T. Davies and Benjamin Cook.  It shows a year long correspondence between the two about the process of writing screenplays for the television series “Doctor Who“.

I’ve learnt a lot from it so far.  It’s informative, funny and entertaining.  I knew writing was not an easy job, but this book puts it into perspective.

Writing, is the job for me.

Now, i’m still a novice. But I have the drive and the motivation.  I believe I have what it takes to do this.  And that’s a note to end on.

Insomnia and Late Nights

Well, not really.  I wouldn’t classify this as insomnia.  It’s my choice to be up this late.  But I was so excited I had to start blogging.  

I’m so tired I don’t think that I can come up with any more coherent thoughts .

Tomorrow will be my proper start to blogging.

Night all.