by Mayumi-H | Jun 8, 2013 | Short Stories
Today’s Saturday, when I’m supposed to post some Original Fiction. But, engrossed in our student film contest, I didn’t get the chance to write anything new for y’all this week. So, I figured I’d go back in time a bit, and share with you a little something from my past.
This is a comics script I wrote around the time I was in college. I’d never written a script before, and I didn’t know what I was doing. But, like anyone just starting out with a new venture, I knew what I liked, and I had a pretty good idea for what I wanted to see. This project never came to fruition beyond my first draft below, but, when I found it the other day, I figured it might be a fun change of pace for this blog.
Take a gander if you’re so inclined. The script is silly and stupid and full of comics in-jokes, and I didn’t bother to retype it from this old printout, for fear I might be tempted to fix all the mistakes. But, it still makes me smile. I think that’s worth something.
The story/script has a lot of faults. It’s too slow to get started, doesn’t get to the action quickly enough, and it’s clunky overall. But, I think the world could use more heroic Tater Tots – and more imaginative Edwards – no matter how ridiculous and flawed their stories might be.
Do you ever look back through your old stories and writing projects? Do they make you smile, or cringe, or both? (It’s okay if they do both. đ )
by Mayumi-H | Jun 3, 2013 | Short Stories
I know, I know: I had reserved Saturdays for original fiction posts. Shame on me for breaking my own rule.
I hadn’t planned on doing any of the writing prompts this week, because none of them immediately grabbed me. But, while I was writing a “real” chapter, the scene below came to me. It’s back story, I suppose, of an alternate-universe sort. Or, maybe it really did happen; I can’t decide. At any rate, both Kellie Elmore’s Free Write Friday word bank and Lillie McFerrin’s Five Sentence Fiction prompt (DESOLATE) conspired with my evil little brain to create this. I didn’t keep things to five sentences, so I can’t submit to Lillie’s link list, but I wanted to give her some credit for getting the juices flowing.
Warning: Sensitive situations included below. Nothing graphic, but I’d suggest not clicking if you’re uncomfortable with descriptions of sexuality.
I’m slowly returning to normal with this blog. Hopefully, you haven’t already left me behind! Though, I guess if you have done, you won’t be reading this, anyway, so the hopes are moot. I’ve got a conference and an awards thing to do over the next two weeks, but, after that, I’m looking to get back in the thick of things.
Did you write from any prompts, this week? Which ones? Feel free to link to them in the comments, because I’d love to check them out!
by Mayumi-H | May 25, 2013 | Process, Short Stories
“A Little Sliver of Nirvana”
Another 20-minute effort, funkified with Photoshop
Wading through the sea of boozehounds and whores pressing flesh and passing money, an unending rolling tide of vice and greed, he settled in to the corner booth, the one with the well-worn center cushion seat and the uneven grooves in the grain where metal stiletto heels had tread for too many nights. He clicked the control pad beside his seat, prompting the silencing swish of the heavy velvet shroud, and sat back, closing his eyes in the dim dank, to wait.
A flutter of music â high winds with low brass, though more than that he couldn’t tell â made him breathe deep, the scent of soap and lilies filling his nose, erasing the thick stench of sweat and despair. And, looking up, now, he saw her: legs shifting, hips rolling, belly and breasts shining with some invisible light; arms swaying, hair swinging, lips and eyes focused on him, holding him in the trance of her magic-making for as long as they both could stand it, this little sliver of Nirvana.
Slowing at the whisper of the final chords, she frowned, reaching out to him â forbidden, but she’d never cared â to touch his face, when he grabbed her wrist with one hand and slapped the other on the space of table between them, around a treasured bundle of cash, and murmured, âMarry me, now?â
Today’s original fiction piece inspired by this week’s Five Sentence Fiction prompt, “CHARMED,” from Lillie McFerrin.
I wrote this entry on my morning commute on Friday, so it’s about 20 minutes’ worth of concentration and typing. I didn’t bother with any editing or refining. I’m not making any apologies for it, either. I’ve decided that, if a prompt doesn’t inspire an idea within 5 minutes, I let it pass. If I do get an idea but I can’t make it materialize properly in 30 minutes, I set it aside in my ever-growing “Random” folder. No offense intended to the folks posting these lovely prompts – or those participating more fully than I’m doing – but I want to concentrate on my larger writing goals. For me, this plan is a nice balance.
Do be sure to visit Lillie’s site for more Five Sentence Fiction submissions, though, and for other flash fiction goodness!
How do you balance between all the stories in your head?
by Mayumi-H | May 22, 2013 | Persona 4 Fan Fiction, Process, Short Stories
A few weeks ago, I wrote about a particular Free Write Friday picture prompt (Free Write Fridays from Kellie Elmore). What came from that free write session was about 1600 words of a relationship story, one that flowed so naturally from my fingers, I just couldn’t stop writing it. As I mentioned in that earlier post, what struck me as I wrote those characters was how much of a role their religion played in their dialogue. Their sexuality also featured prominently, which is one of the main reasons why I didn’t post the piece at the time. Because you never know who you might offend.
Generally speaking, offending potential readers is not something I care very much about. It’s my belief an artist should create Art that speaks from the soul, no matter how dark, bright, raunchy, or chaste. Whether the artist can then sell that creation if they so choose is an entirely different debate. But, the Art at its core should be honest. Otherwise, it’s not so much art or even craft, but simply a consumable.
Side note: I’m not saying there’s anything inherently wrong with producing for consumption. Nor am I saying consumables necessarily exclude artistry, or vice versa. I think A Song of Ice and Fire has proven that pretty well. Besides, every one needs to eat, no matter how high-falutin’ their principles.
That said, I recently revisited that piece of free writing because I was curious to look at it with fresh eyes. I wanted to see if it really was as bad as I’d originally thought. Holding a marker, I went over and redacted everything I thought anyone could possibly find offensive in any way. This is what came of that exercise:
If, for some reason, you’re interested in the actual words, click the images for a more legible experience (they’ll open in a new window or tab). The scene itself isn’t important, though. The reason for this exercise – aside from fueling my own personal amusement – was for me to see just how much black there’d be on those pages.
I’m not particularly smart, so I can’t write good mysteries or thrillers. I’ve only ever held a gun once, and never in a conflict, so I’m not qualified to write a big war epic. But, I understand people, and the everyday conflicts that can arise from personality and heritage clashes. I know love, too, because I experience it in my life every day. And I like sex, because…well, who doesn’t?
I don’t pull many punches when it comes to my stories. I try my best to warn folks ahead of time if a story contains questionable or mature material, but I also believe any individual should be able to decide for themselves if they want to continue or not. But, I’m writing these for me, first, and those topics are the ones I personally enjoy exploring. If they need to be redacted later, to fit someone else’s idea of what’s appropriate or salable, well, that’s life.
Have you ever redacted or edited something you’d written to fit someone else’s sensitivities? Why did you do it? Or, if you didn’t do it, why not?
by Mayumi-H | Apr 24, 2013 | Uncategorized
Before I get into this post, I need to take a second to apologize to those bloggers whom I follow. I’ve got a backlog of your updates sitting in my inbox, pestering for my attention, but I want to be able to approach your shared words with a clear headspace, and I haven’t had that, in recent days. I promise, I’m getting there, but it may take me a few extra days, yet.
Anyway….
I try to keep this blog to talking about my writing, as that’s been its purpose since its inception. But, sometimes, life intrudes into my work in confounding ways.
“La Grammaire” (1892) Paul SĂ©rusier [Public domain], via Wikimedia Commons
I don’t hold many feelings of nostalgia for the place itself, perhaps because I haven’t lived âat homeâ since I went away to university. But, the people still hold significance to me. Understandably so, as they’re my closest relatives. I visit perhaps once or twice a year, and that’s been enough for me, in the past. But, lately, I’ve really come to notice and realize how…well…old my parents are getting.
My mother and father were not typically young parents. My husband’s parents, for example, were married at not much past twenty, and had him when they were still in college. My parents were in their thirties when they had my sister and me. In the pre-Millennial generations, that was old.
Deep down, I’ve always had a concept of mortality. But, faced specifically with my parents‘ mortality has been scary. Especially when discussing wills, deeds, insurance financials, and what happens if one of them âgoesâ before the other.
Over this last visit, both my mother and father approached the subject rationally with me, and I tried to do the same. Maybe it’s a kind of emotional denial on my part, but I kept thinking, âHow would [character X] deal with this situation?â It’s timely and fitting, right now, as I do have a story where this subject â that of a parent’s death â is an integral plot point. It doesn’t really make the issue any easier, though. It just gives me a safe sense of distance.
“Death of Barbara RadziwiĆĆ (detail)” by JĂłzef Simmler [Public domain], via Wikimedia Commons
I’ve written about death in my stories before. I don’t like treating it lightly, because even the most insignificant of deaths â relatively speaking, that is â has an impact on somebody, in fiction just as in real life.
Hmm. Reading over that last sentence just now, I can’t help but think I’m still a bit in denial about the whole process.
Part of the scariness of the prospect is that I’ve always been close to my parents, even though I’ve lived far away. I may not speak to them every week, but I certainly think of them that often, or more. To consider life without them is unsettling. Realistic, and likely unavoidable, but discomfiting nonetheless. Without them, I’d be an orphan.
That sounds silly for an adult woman. The word âorphanâ has a connotation of a sooty-faced, Victorian-era street urchin, or a child sitting alone by a window, waiting for a nice couple to come along to adopt them. But, it’s true. Not that I’d be alone if my parents passed away. I have a family of my own, and a sister, cousins, aunts and uncles…. They’re not the same, though.
I’ve always known one of the principle building blocks of good fiction is conflict. It creates tension, builds character. I strive for realistic conflict in my stories. In my life, though? I could do with a little bit less of the stuff.
I’ll try to return this blog to its regularly scheduled programming by next update. Til then, bear with me, okay?
The story/script has a lot of faults. It’s too slow to get started, doesn’t get to the action quickly enough, and it’s clunky overall. But, I think the world could use more heroic Tater Tots – and more imaginative Edwards – no matter how ridiculous and flawed their stories might be.
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