The average heart weighs less than a pound and is the size of a human fist. It begins its work around the fifth week of pregnancy. And it has an enormous workload. It beats about 100000 to 150000 times a day, pumping about 7000 litres of blood through the body. Sometimes, it can get a bit out of rhythm. So it’s lucky that the mind stands by its side. It has developed a small machine to help the heart: The pacemaker. Even with this helpful little device, the heart isn’t invincible: A heart attack is precisely what the name suggests: An assault, which can sometimes be parried, and sometimes not. Statistically, most heart attacks happen on Mondays, and Christmas Eve is the most dangerous holiday. But I can assure you that a heart attack on a Sunday, two days after New year’s Eve is equally disastrous. In a way, many hearts are connected. Through family ties, friendship, love or a mix of all. So if one heart loses its battle, it affects a lot of other ones. The result is extreme heartache. Unfortunately, there is no helpful little device or pill in this case. All you can do is wait. But as already mentioned, the heart is a solid little thing. After a while, it will recover, helped by the good memories it has stored over time. It may be a bit chipped, but it will carry on. Aside from the times of grief, the heart is often quite adventurous. There is this song ‚Geh aus mein Herz und suche Freud‘ (Go out my heart and look for joy). And that’s precisely what it’s up to. Constantly looking for happiness, new connections, and maybe even healthy alliances. It knows no worries of getting lost or being broken. In a way, it actually yearns to be lost to someone. Usually, though more wary and open to reason, the mind is its steady and willing accomplice. After all, humans are (mostly) quite sociable. So what harm can be done by looking for a like-minded companion? Here starts the trouble. Giving its best efforts, the mind will look for safe and promising surroundings. Because it’s the sensible thing to do. And as soon as the heart hears the word ‚sensible‘, it starts yawning. Stubbornly it will refuse to do anything. It may even get a bit pouty. At this point, mind and heart are only united in their constant moaning about being lonely. But though not being famous for its patience, the heart can wait. So it begins to roam in secret, meanwhile lulling the mind into a false sense of security. Decisively looking for THE MOMENT. And when THE MOMENT finally arrives, it is ready, throwing itself into it head over heels, regardless of any obstacles, red flags or apparent futility. Leaving the mind stunned and a bit furious because it fell again for the heart’s treacherous disguise. But the mind wasn’t born yesterday. It knows the heart very well despite falling for ist tricks. So, it will turn to damage control with a deep sigh, working hard to keep the heart’s integrity and dignity safe. Knowing that any attempt to talk the heart out of it will be in vain, it will wait patiently. The heart will come back soon enough, maybe a bit bruised but otherwise unharmed. And maybe, though the mind would never admit it, sometimes it even enjoys the turmoil, the sensations. Because nothing makes you feel more alive. And after all, there is always this tiny bit of hope. Because the heart, despite its recklessness, often chooses wisely. So what to do with this hard-working, foolish, brave and treacherous little thing? Treasure it. Nurture it. Be kind to it. And – within reason – follow it. Because, after all, its beating creates the rhythm of your life.
It took a bit longer than I’d thought, but I think I’m finally back into writing my current WIP. So as promised/threatened, here we go: Welcome to Armsburn! Enjoy your stay cause you won’t be able to leave! This or at least something like this could be the inscription on the big and a bit cheesy sign standing at the road leading into town. Armsburn is your typical small town. Take a stroll along the high street. There you can rummage in the bookstore, discover old treasures in one of the antique shops, or do some quick shopping at the grocery store. There is even a cinema right beside an ice cream parlour. Or perhaps you’d like to relax in the green heart of the town, Tranquillity Park. With its expansive green lawns and the small lake in the centre, it’s the perfect place to spend a lazy summer afternoon. Are you into history? Then you should visit the main attraction of the town: The Old Manor. Until today it’s unclear who initially built it. However, whoever it was was a fan of the medieval knight’s castles. If you aren’t discouraged by the mighty stairwell that leads to the inner court, you can plunge into stories from a long time ago. The vast rooms hold various exhibitions, affectionally composed by the local society of Ancient History. And from the high parapet walk, you have a lovely view of the surroundings. Since the mine closed its gates during the late fifties, jobs have become rare in Armsburn. Things got better after the new Highway was built, connecting the town to the next bigger city. Nevertheless, it’s not a place with a high fluctuation, especially since the college in the neighbouring town opened its gates. Most young people shuttle between school and home, saving the extra rent. Some turn their backs on Armsburn after graduation. Still, a few always stay, filling the gaps in the public services or working in the software company nearby. And since the department of culture got a new head, there are a lot of local events, always worthwhile a visit, like the Festival of Lights in early spring. You won’t find Armsburn on any real-life map (at least I hope so) because I’ve settled it in a fictional world ( later on, you’ll see why, when I get into the lore). But if you could visit, it wouldn’t be any different from the towns you know. The people who live there are average citizens, with regular everyday jobs ( like being a teacher or a police officer) and more or less big or small dreams. The story starts on the evening before the already mentioned Festival of Light. But first, I should shortly explain how I structured the whole thing. So far, I’ve got five parts. The first is named ‘Falling Apart’. Instead of chapters, I’ve chosen days, which are parted into scenes. Every scene is told by a different character (the POV is first person simple present). So my beginning looks like this: Day 1 Dylan Don’t worry. I have no intention to tell you every day’s happenings. And not every character will have a scene on all days. But especially at the beginning, it was an enormous help to structure the events and get into the story. And now it’s time to meet the first of the main characters. Dylan Simmons left Armsburn fourteen years ago, right after he had finished Highschool. He returns to Armsburn on a rainy evening, visiting his mother, Claudia (the already mentioned head of the department of culture), and his siblings, Francis and Elyse. Unfortunately, the visit isn’t going well. His brother and sister are estranged from him (they were about eleven and seven years old when he left). In addition, it becomes clear that he has a very strained relationship with his mom. Finally, after a pretty horrible dinner that Francis and Elyse flee as soon as possible, he reveals the real purpose of his visit. He warns his mom about an imminent danger and demands that they’ll leave town the following day. His mom refuses, and they have a big ugly fight. Finally, his mom promises that they will talk again in the morning, simultaneously threatening him if he talks about it with his siblings. Worried about the things to come and disappointed about his mom’s reaction, Dylan leaves the house to catch some air. This summary might sound a bit dry, but I had a lot of fun writing the scene (though I felt a little bad because his mom is really horrible). And I was relieved because finding my first sentence, not to mention the entire first scene, was a real struggle. As far as I can tell, there are mainly two opinions regarding the beginning of a story. Some people prefer to be thrown into the action without further ado. Others don’t mind a slow start, learning about the characters, the setting etc. As a reader, I usually prefer the latter. So my first try was different. I tried to play with the contrast between a perfectly normal day and the following events. So I wrote a scene about another character and his dad, introducing them on the way and ending with a slightly ominous ‘It’s a beautiful day. What could go wrong?’. Curious, I put it out for feedback. And the feedback was that it was - boring (well, that was the quintessence, it was much nicer expressed). Although to be fair, the feedback giver had no chance to read the following scenes, so the whole contrast thing fell away. But why is it so hard to find the right beginning? Of course, every story has to start somewhere. But how do you find the perfect point, giving enough suspense to make the reader read on without overwhelming him with too many unsolved questions? At least in my case, it might always be a case of try and error. While writing this, I thought about my previous WIPs (the three that are currently delayed). Only one of them has a proper beginning. I’ve no idea how to start for the first one, though I’ve finished a lot of scenes further ahead. Maybe it’s related to the fact that I tend to start my stories somewhere in the middle. Anyway, since I wasn’t pleased, I started over. And now I’m glad I did. If it’s a good start is a question for the workshop (if I ever find the courage to put it out there). But at least I’m satisfied. And the problem of the missing beginning has been solved. What will happen next? And even more importantly, where is the next pitfall that throws me back into profound writer’s despair? Hopefully, this will be the subject of the next part: We are … and we want to…’ or how to introduce your villains properly As always, thanks for reading and take care!
Originally my next blog was supposed to be about my recent WIP. No, it's no longer Oscar and Laney. I've put them on hold for a while. The most recent thing was - or better is – huge. I started in February. Coincidentally, this was also when I started to use Scrivener after Word decided it wouldn't count my words anymore. As some of you might know, I like to get some inspiration by playing the Sims 4. But this time, it was different. Before I started, I had already a loose plot in mind. So I made my characters (or more the basics), set some rules and was ready to go. Everything went fine, and soon the spark hit me. So I stopped playing and started writing. I did another thing differently this time. I started to write in first person simple present, and I think I've never been so close to my characters before. While watching a movie, I found a face for one of my characters. The others followed immediately. I had a lot of fun choosing the right person for every one of them, and it was definitely an improvement to their former Sim selfs. Pretty soon, I had a gallery of 17 ‚real 'people. I used pictures of actors/actresses. I know that isn't really original, and If I could draw them, I would, but since I can't (they never look like they are supposed to), it's the best I can do. Nothing is written in stone, but it helps me a lot when I try to picture a scene. I even made a video, like a trailer, which covered the characters and some parts of the setting. Scrivener made it so easy to keep things organised. Before, I always had had a large word document, structured by headlines at most. Now I had parts, chapters and scenes. I even could do a short summary of everything. It was so much easier to find my way through the story. In addition, the whole thing looked kind of professional, which always made me a little proud. I continued to collect pictures, this time for my setting. And I made notes for unsolved problems. And all the time I was writing. In April, I challenged myself to write at least a thousand words every day, noting my progress in a weekly diary. And after some trouble at the beginning, it worked. I even developed a kind of writing routine. First, during the day, I thought about what I was about to write. Then I wrote right after dinner until bedtime. I was about to hit the 60k mark when I suddenly started struggling. Two things happened at that time. First, I got a newer version of Scrivener, and I bought a 2-in-1 tablet exclusively dedicated to writing. So what could possibly go wrong? But suddenly, all my energy to continue poofed away. Just like that. All of a sudden, my plot and logic problems seemed to be insurmountable. When I sat down to write, I was lucky when I managed a few words. I knew the sensible thing would be to finish part one first (there are so many essentials explained in it). Still, my mind jumped merrily to parts way further into the story. Until I finally got stuck, at least partly because there were elements I had to develop first before I could continue. Life went on. I broke with my usual gaming habits and started Resident Evil 2, which I liked surprisingly well. And I learned that apparently, gaming in itself influences my writing. Don't ask me how and why. It's not like I copy the things of the game, but while I'm in the game, the essential ‚What if? 'thought occurs more frequently and is easier to grasp. And it doesn't matter if I play a game where I'm free to create the story (Sims 4) or if the story is set (Resident Evil). So I got some new impulses and looked forward to my ‚alone time 'when my family left for summer vacation. But I failed. And now I'm sitting here, worrying that I'll lose another set of great characters and good ideas. They aren't totally gone, at least for now. But all I can do at the moment is thinking about a tiny plotline. Every night when I go to bed, I develop it further. It's silly because the event may be essential for the involved characters but not for the whole story. But still, I go on and on. Since I really started to write my stories down, this is my fourth project. The other three are on hold, not ditched but far from being finished. The terrifying question is: Will I ever finish something longer than a short story? I know this project was - and is - quite ambitious. First, the number of characters- though not all of the mentioned seventeen are main characters. The new and relatively unfamiliar point of view. and the intention of giving everyone enough room to tell their story. The latter increased the word count in dizzying speed. But I really miss it. And it felt so good when I was writing. So what now? Will I give in, abandon my story and leave my characters to the terrible fate of whatever I wrote last about them? Well, the good news is that the words you've just read are the largest amount of words I've written over the last two months. It felt good. And maybe, it's a start. So here is another scenario: Tomorrow, I'll sit down and reread everything I've written so far. Then, if I feel at least a tiny spark, I'll continue to write. It doesn't matter where I'll start, so if tomorrow is the day I write the final chapter, so be it. Additionally, I'll make a list of all the plot holes/logic problems I have (in chronological order). And though my reliability isn't at its best when it comes to blogging (Laney and Oscar will return someday, I promise), I hope you will accompany me when I discuss them here in a new blog (like the last time, comments are welcome but not expected, it's mainly thinking out loud). As always, thanks for reading. And hopefully, this will be continued soon!
I wrote this for a writing challenge (just for fun). You had to choose one of your favourite historical persons and write about them. Since I had so much fun writing it, I decided to share. Enjoy ( hopefully ;-) ). P.S.:I put the solution at the end (if needed). The last summer When I’ve folded the last of the linen, my hand lingers a moment on the fine fabric. Usually, this chore belongs to the girls, but I’ve shooed them away, eager to give my hands something to do, hoping the simple task will sooth the turmoil in my head. I turn to the closet behind me and start to stack the freshly washed linen inside, deeply inhaling the scent of summer and the sunshine and remembering the precious half an hour we were allowed outside today. It had been raining this morning, but when we stepped outside the sun had come out, warming the fresh and clean air. My hand rested on Nicky’s forearm and I could feel the warmth of his skin through the thin fabric of his shirt. “See my Love? Summer has finally arrived against all odds. I told you so. Everything is going to be alright.” I nodded, knowing he needed my consent, maybe even more than I needed his soothing but sadly empty words. Then I closed my eyes and left the ugly wooden fence and the neglected shrubbery behind, travelling back through the years for a few precious moments, to a time where Nicky and I strolled through parks far away from here, careless and oblivious of any trouble life would deal us. I close the door of the closet and my gaze slips to the dresses of the girls. They have lost colour, and I notice that the seams are worn. Anastasia is growing so fast now that she will need new ones soon, anyway. Perhaps next Christmas- I shy away from the thought and turn around to the narrow iron bed. Alexej is softly sighing in his sleep. For a moment I watch the gentle movement of his chest, hoping that the signs of a cold he had shown this morning won’t turn into something worse. There is a small crease on his forehead, and I wonder if he is still in pain. Rasputin would know, he always knew, but he is long gone. Gently I stroke back a loose lock of his hair. Soon he will turn fourteen, no longer a child and not yet a man. In my heart he will always be my baby, the child I fought so hard for. Though fate gave finally in, it keeps mocking me with the constant threat of taking him away from me again. I leave the room and step into the hall. From the girl’s room, I can hear Olga’s clear calm voice. She is reading aloud to her sisters. From the quiet giggling of the younger girls, I can tell that it’s not the bible. Olga is a great reader, and soon her voice will lull the girls to sleep, so there is no need for me to step in and disrupt their secret pleasure. There are no windows in the hall, and no one has lit the candles on the walls, so the darkness surrounding me is thick and almost impenetrable. I reach the top of the staircase, and while my foot is slowly searching for the first step, a thought lets me stop midmotion. I will fall. I will fall, and the darkness will swallow me, ripping away everything and everyone I ever loved or cared about. My throat gets tight. My fingers clutch the cold and splintery bannister while my body leans toward the darkness before me, longing to stop fighting against the inevitable. Then the moment passes away. Cool air fills my lungs. I straighten my back and slowly descend the stairs. A warm light guides me to the saloon. One of the windows is ajar, and the room is filled with the sweet scent of lilac. Nicky is sitting in his favourite armchair. A book is resting on his knees while he is watching the slowly descending darkness outside. When he notices me, a gentle smile appears on his face, the one I know so well and love so much. “Are you alright, my Love?” his voice sounds tired. I nod. “Of course.” We are both liars. Spoiler: Solution Tsarina Alexandra Feodorovna (Alix of Hesse)
When you currently read a book with creepy creatures in the fog and watched “War of the Worlds” recently, it may lead you to this: “We have to run, love!” The rhythm of my feet on the wet sand is competing with the beating of my galloping heart. My lungs are burning. The wind is mocking us; it is slashing the sand against our faces, pulling at our hair and our clothes, while I gasp for air. We are running toward the light. Away from the crawling shadows, writhing and curling. Closing in on us. Your hand is still in mine, warm and firm, I sense the hard calluses in your palm and recall the gentleness of your fingertips. “Don’t stop! Whatever happens, don’t stop!” I mustn’t trip. I mustn’t fall. I mustn’t… I didn’t. You did. Your fingers slip through mine. I try to hold on to them, try to hold on to you, but – Whatever happens. Don’t. Stop. It may be too short to be anything, but I really had to get it out of my head.
Will you come to the park with me? Don’t be repelled by the chilly air, the threatening grey of the sky. We may wake the sun. He’ll add colour to the bland green and brown around us. He’ll turn the raindrops, still lingering on grass and leaves, into a glistening curtain. His warmth speeds us on, while we walk on the gravelly pathways. The wind plays with the dead leaves on the ground. He gently rocks the new buds and sprouts. His chill breath doesn’t disturb their sleep. They know when it is time. He also chases away the clouds, so now we are walking under a dome of brilliant blue. A bench invites us to linger for a moment. Dogs are going for a walk. Big and small, old and young. Some are walking with a certain dignity, some are overflowing with joy, sniffling along their way and hunting after balls or birds. Every meeting is a wagging of tails, maybe even a few playful jumps, before they part again. Their humans also stop from time to time, renewing old acquaintances or gaining new ones. We walk on, passing flowerbeds still recovering from the harsh regime of winter. But here and there we can already glimpse a shy hint of pink, yellow or white. We come to the lake. The wind is more daring here, rippling the smooth glistening surface into small waves. Waterbirds are covering the water. Some are strangers, resting after a long hard journey. Others are simply enjoying the first sunny day at their home. Some ducks are parading in front of the benches, majestically accepting bread crumps of the visiting humans, ignoring the cooing pigeons surrounding them, eager to share the treat. And we walk on, crossing bridges, turning around corners, drinking in the fresh air and the reluctant warmth of the sun. From time to time words flow between us, easily and comfortably. From time to time we keep our silence; together; calmly and trustingly. Days are still short. Soon, too soon, the sun starts his hurried descent. We watch him while we are sitting close, shielding each other from the arising cold. It’s the end of the day. It’s a new beginning. Will you come to the park with me?
…but really only slightly . The prologue is done (2623 words). It isn’t perfect (I dawdled a bit while writing the description of the house and had a hard time to finish the hat shop scene) but also not too bad for a first draft. I’m a bit proud of the scary impression the two nightly intruders leave behind. Trust me, the last two sentences were definitely nothing you should write at 2:30 am . I’ll be back soon with my thoughts about chapter one. Until then Good Night, have a nice weekend and thanks for reading!
I know it’s been a while, but after starting this blog I stumbled over certain problems. Somehow, I’m now way more critical when it comes to my story. On the one hand, this is a good thing and was among others the reason I started it. On the other hand, it can be quite paralysing. But today I promised myself to pull myself together, so here we go. When I finally started to write down the beginning of the story, my decision to start with a prologue was intuitive. It was only when I started this blog, I remembered that the sense and nonsense of a prologue is quite controversial (I think I even have read a discussion about it here on the forum). But after a little research I think I’ll stick with it for the following reasons: The events take place approx. six months before the story really starts. One of my MCs is seriously affected by them, and I think it makes sense to show the reader how she was before. The tone of the story changes equally. Some of the characters in the prologue have their first real introduction way later. I want to do the following things in this passage: - Introduce one of my MCs, Laney Hollway - Give an impression of the world the story takes place in - At the end there is a prophecy mentioned Let’s start with Laney. We meet her on her wedding day. At this point, Laney thinks she has achieved everything she ever wanted. She has her husband with whom she is deeply in love, they are moving into their new house, everything is fine. Laney is quite young (barely twenty), clever but not overly educated. She is merry and quite optimistic. She loves everything romantic and so it is no wonder she fell almost immediately in love with her future husband Oscar, whom she has met at her workplace, a hat store. When I wrote Oscars entrance (flashback with Laney’s POV) I constantly had this song from Mary Poppins in my head. Spoiler: Chim-Chim-Cher-ee I guess this pretty much sums up the atmosphere - though they don’t dance or sing . Though the only thing that might stop them from doing this is the slightly surly shop owner, Mrs. Larky, who senses danger from the flirtatious young man for her young and easily impressed employee. She practically shoos him out of the shop. The scene is followed by a short summary of the courting, then we return to the present. It follows the usual newlywed stuff -him carrying her over the threshold, a dinner which is a reminiscence of their courting phase with more reassurances how much they love each other and – without further details – the beginning of the wedding night. I know it’s a bit cliché, but I want it quite sugary and sweet, in contrast to the beginning of the first chapter (hopefully see next entry ). At this point we leave the two to themselves. Two figures appear in front of the house. I want to describe them shortly but not overly detailed, but you should get the sense that they are sinister and maybe even scary. There is a short conversation in which said prophecy is mentioned. We leave the scene when the two of them enter the house. The prophecy gave me quite a headache – to be honest it still does. I want the classical tricky prophecy but - at least for now – I have no idea how the wording could be. I don’t need it necessarily at this early stage, but it still makes me nervous. The world of Laney and Oscar is fictional, though it’s a lot like ours. There are less continents and countries, in fact there is one country with a lot of states, cities and communities. The country has been and is still at war with the vampires. But the battlefield is in another dimension. Or is it? I must admit I cringed while writing this. What I mean is, that the war isn’t directly in the country, therefore most of the time there is no direct impact on the civilians, like bombs or destroyed cities etc. But later there will be a general conscription. Maybe the battlefields are at the outskirts of the country. But the he vampires’ empire (I like the sound of this) is definitely in another dimension. I’m still a little uncertain about the era (I’m pretty sure this is not the word I’m looking for, but I hope you know what I mean). The story goes on over several generations (four to be exact) and at some point there will be cars and later mobiles. Laney’s time is a time of rigid morals. Gender equality isn’t much more than an idea. Good education for women is rare, at least among the lower and middle class. The main goal in life for a woman is marriage to get social security. If you are upper class, you may get a good education in order to prepare you for marriage. If you are lower or middle class you work as a shop assistant (see above), maid, secretary or something similar. The country has a republic form of government but due to the war the Ministry of War is a potent influence. Don’t worry, I won’t put all this information into the prologue (at least not in this form), but I guess at least I should have an idea about it. So far, I have approx. 600 words and still have to finish the flashback scene in the hat shop. Now comes the scary part of this blog, the setting of the deadline (taking a deep breath): I’ll be back on the 20th November, ideally with a finished prologue. Then I will start with chapter 1. Thanks for reading and have a nice week(end)!
It’s been two years since I’ve started with my first WIP. Everything began with a kind of experiment. I had always liked to make up stories, preferably plotting and scheming in the evening shortly before I fell asleep. But it was never enough to write it up (The longest thing I had written until then was a story called ‘Vampires in Weidenburg ‘about a dentist who is also a vampire. This was already the whole plot, so it’s no surprise I didn’t get very far ). Simultaneously I had another thing I liked to do in my leisure time: Playing ‘The Sims’ (meanwhile the Sims 4). One day, when I was really bored, I had an idea. What if I tried to create the characters of my current story in the Sims? I had a lot of fun creating them, and after I was done, another idea came to my mind: What if I start to play the story with them? I’ve been beyond the vanilla version of the game for a long time, playing with a lot of mods, so everything I needed was there. And so I got started. The result was a wild mix of storytelling, playing a life simulation and RPG (I used dices for some decisions). And then something unexpected happened: For the first time I was able to write down a continuous story, with characters who became very dear to me soon. I had to detach myself from the limitation of the game of course while writing it all down, but it was so much fun. I played, making notes, and after that I figured out how I could make a halfway logical plot out of it. My characters were much more fleshed out than before, and to improve them even more I developed background stories and profiles for them. This first WIP is still my favourite. I stopped at some point, simply because I didn’t want it to end (and there are a lot of holes mostly in the first part, a nasty habit of mine, see below) but I know I will return to it. While taking this break I continued to play the Sims, with different characters. One day another story idea hit me. My second WIP was born and I booked it under writing exercise. But this wasn’t the end of it. In fact, the whole thing had become independent: Instead of playing my story ideas, I now got new ideas by playing. Not all of it made it into a full-grown story, some are only fragments, but still… When my third and recent WIP hit me, I decided to write in English this time (first and second WIP are in German so far). Up to today I have 26k words and at least an idea how the whole thing should end (I stopped playing at some point). But – and this is a big but – I have the following difficulties: 1. As mentioned above, I tend to start somewhere in the middle, usually when the plot gets really exciting. I can’t help it – these scenes simply jump at me and then I have to write them down. The start and the things that happen between are much harder. 2. I still love to do my plotting at night in bed shortly before I fall asleep. The result is that I have the whole story in my head, but not written down. 3. I still have some plot holes. My preferred method is to tell someone the whole thing. He or she doesn’t have to say something about it, I just get more ideas and make adjustments etc. by thinking aloud. I used to talk to my sister about it, but the whole thing is huge, with a lot of different characters and continuing over several generations and it’s only a matter of time until she starts to mix things up and it becomes quite exhausting for her. And these are the reasons I decided to start this blog. I deliberately decided against the thread ‘progress journal’ because though I won’t post anything I’ve actually written, it is with regards to content too much (don’t worry, I’m not looking for advice, I just need a place to think aloud; feel free to leave comments, though) The plan is to work (at last) in chronological order, chapter by chapter. I will shortly describe what I want to tell and then discuss the remaining problems. At the end I set a deadline for finishing the chapter. The next entry is due exactly at this deadline and begins ideally with the final wordcount of the former discussed chapter and a short summary how I solved the mentioned problems. I had this idea on my last vacation, and frankly, at the moment I’m almost more excited about this blog than about the WIP. But if it works, at the end I’ll finally have a finished story. Whether it is good or bad will be a question for the workshop (when I finally manage to meet the requirements), but it will be mine. And hopefully you have at least some fun while you accompany me on my chaotic journey through: Of Vampires, Witches and War (Only the working title, but still an improvement to ‘Vampires in Weidenburg’ ) A short P:S.: Something I must get off my chest before I start: English isn’t my first language. Before I started the WIP mentioned above, though I read a lot in English the only times I wrote something were here on the forum, and I’m very grateful for the practice. Nevertheless, I’m far from perfect. So, sorry in advance for any mistakes in this text or the following ones. If it gets too weird, just ask .
“Fate and free will are equally powerful forces but I consider free will to be more important as it is your free will that determines your fate.” Vyasa Do you believe in fate? Well, I do, though the quote above sums it up well. The good news is, it’s not written in stone. The bad news is, you can’t just lean back and wait till your fate finds you, or at least it might not be the fate then, you wished for. In day to day life (and on a much smaller scale than Vyasa) I sometimes start to quarrel with fate. There are days where nothing is right. It’s raining cats and dogs; you’ve forgotten to take an umbrella and the bus is either delayed or drives merrily by while you are still waiting at the traffic lights. People around you are rather unfriendly and rude. Something goes wrong due to a stupid mistake and you are haunted by the thought “If only…”. The only thing you want is to get home, but there is a big traffic jam. These are the days where I want to shout: “Hey fate! What’s wrong with you? What were you thinking? “ Another example are the moments, where you really wish something would happen, making new acquaintances for example, or getting a new, challenging assignment. And yes, it happens, but you meet the most terrible person you could have imagined, and the new assignment is the most boring thing you ever had to do. And all you can say is “Seriously?” I imagine the fate flinching slightly, muttering: “But you wanted...” ” Yeah, but I didn’t want this!” “Well, then you should articulate your wishes more clearly!” “You are the fate, you should know, what I mean!” “Yes, but you have a free will, don’t make me responsible when you change your mind so quickly, that no one can follow!” And the conversation ends with sulking on both sides. But then there are these special moments. You don’t know when or where they will happen. Usually they happen on a day, that starts quite ordinary. You decide to do something or to go somewhere. And you don’t expect anything. And suddenly, it happens. Something you’ve been waiting for finally takes place. Or you just have a moment, where everything is, as it should be. In these moments, feeling slightly surprised, happy and at peace, there is only one thing I want to say:” Thank you!” And I imagine the fate leaning back, smiling contently. P.S: Thanks for reading.
Due to the Coronavirus disease they try to minimize the contact between people in my part of Germany (North Rhine-Westphalia) now. The result is a temporary closure of a variety of institutions, cultural and otherwise (for example museums, cinemas and theatres, bars and night clubs). Schools and universities are closed, too. Supermarkets, pharmacies and everything you really need are open. It’s a logical step and I’d be at home most of the time anyway, since the term hasn’t started yet (and won’t until the 21 th April). So, I’m wondering why all these measures are making me so anxious. Even with the restrains my actual life isn’t drastically constraint. Yet I’ve been sitting here the whole day (even before the temporary closures were published), snapping at everyone and – to be honest – crying a bit now and then. Even at the best of times I’m not the most relaxed person on earth. Knowing this, I made a plan. Don’t panic, get the necessary information from the WHO or the RKI (Robert-Koch Institute), follow the advises to avoid infection and you’ll be fine. The WHO has even a leaflet how you can cope with your worries in this situation (https://www.who.int/emergencies/diseases/novel-coronavirus-2019/advice-for-public). One of the advises was to talk about the whole thing with people who are close to you. Well, there the problems start. My mom panics because she is worried about me and my sister, and my sister sucks in every information she can get and worries about me and my mom. My worries are that I might infect one of them. Whenever we talk about the situation it ends in a catastrophe, there are a lot of misunderstandings and I’m even more nervous than before. Meanwhile outside, there is the whole panic buying thing (though I guess the worst of it is over and we have enough TP) and some people are acting strange and mean. In my city were several thefts of disinfectant in hospitals. There were even threats against Chinese restaurants. These incidents were – at least in my opinion – scarier than the real virus. Even if you restrict yourself to the side of the WHO you can’t avoid the bunch of “news” which aren’t news (e.g. the ones that pop up when you open the site of your e-mail provider) or the ads for overpriced face masks and protective suits (at least when you don’t have an ad blocker). So, what to do now? Well, after writing all this down I feel a lot better already. Tomorrow I’ll start the master plan I developed today, which covers things that are useful and necessary like tidying up and perhaps even renovating (I already have the paint and everything I need) and things for fun like reading, writing or just watching Netflix, hoping it will help me to relax a bit. I’ll keep an eye on the site of the WHO and other sites which provide real information, but I’ll stay away from sites and newspapers, where the “information” is based on speculation. In my opinion the media have a responsibility especially in difficult times, and articles written by authors who sacrifice this responsibility for a sensational headline, aren’t helpful. And finally, that I can’t do a couple of things I might or might not have done under different circumstances is one thing. But whether I really feel restricted (in a bad and scary way) is another story. Hope this makes any sense. Anyway, thanks for reading, good night and take care!
Last night I tortured my feet cruelly by wearing some high heels (not unreasonable high but high enough to hurt). My „day“shoes are bootees, comfortable enough for short walks, but they aren’t made for endless strolls through parks and streets. I decided to ignore this fact, when I packed for my current trip to London. Today my feet urge- or rather threaten - me, to change the shoe situation immediately. Otherwise...let‘s just say every step could be the last one. I decide to go shopping for Sneakers, white Sneakers to be precise, because 1. I don‘t own any white Sneakers, yet. 2. my sister says, you could wear white sneakers to almost everything, even skirts and dresses. I start to google. Skechers come to my mind. Yes, they promise to be comfy, I like the look and they aren‘t unreasonable pricey. Shopping for shoes has always been a challenge for me. I remember long afternoons with my mom and sister when I was a kid/teen, chasing from one shoe shop to the next. After at least five shops I always took the ones I saw in the first shop. Well, now I‘m a mature adult, in a city with plenty of shops, which also are open on Sundays. So how hard can it be? A (more or less short) walk later I enter the first shop. No Skechers, but a beautiful pair of Doc Martens catches my eye, which matches the blue-green pattern of my scarf. Brain: Forget it. You don‘t need them. Me: But I like them. And I‘ve always wanted a pair of Doc Martens. Feet:If they aren‘t comfy we don‘t want them. Me:But… Brain: And how will you get them home, anyway? They won‘t fit into your suitcase. We‘ve already talked about this, stupid. Me:No reason to be mean. I leave the shop without shoes. At the next shop they have plenty of white Sneakers. Regarding the price the sky is the limit. I find a pair which is on sale and try them on. Feet:Ooh, they are comfy. Brain: And they are on sale. Me: But I‘m not sure that I like them. Gut: Don‘t buy them, if you don‘t want them. Feet: But they fit! Brain:And they are on sale. Me:I don‘t know. The silent debate continues for a while, then I leave. Again without shoes. The next shop has any shoe you want, but no Skechers. Another one has Skechers but they aren‘t white. My feet sigh ominously. A slight panic rises in me. I can’t do it anymore. Amazon, Zalando and Co. have spoiled my real life shopping instinct. At least when I‘m specifically looking for something. Otherwise I shop alright, which I‘ve proven the last two days. I enter another shop. The shoes on their racks seem to be glaring at me. Shoes: What‘s your problem? We are white and we are Sneakers! What are you expecting? Brain: I‘m sorry. I‘ve looked at so many white Sneakers already, I can‘t tell the difference between them anymore. Feet: You promised! You promised!!! Gut: Don‘t buy anything, unless you really like it! Me:I can‘t find any Skechers! Stomache: I‘m hungry! Finally, I give up. I‘ve failed. It will be the best, if I return to the hotel now and give my feet at least a small chance to recover. Feet (hissing): You will regret this, we will see to it. On my way out I see a sign. Training shoes for ladies 1st floor I guess there is no harm in taking a look. I see them almost immediately after reaching the first floor. A rack full of Skechers in all colours and at least four of them are white. I find one in my size and try it on. Feet:We want them, we want them now! Brain:They are Skechers, they are white and they aren‘t unreasonable pricey. Gut:It feels good! Me:... As I have to ask the shop assistant to get a pair anyway, I ask for another pair, which isn‘t on the rack in my size and which is a bit more to my liking. They are comfy, they look good and a few minutes later they are mine. When I leave the shop there is peaceful silence inside of me. Until… Stomache:I‘m still hungry! I decide it‘s time to treat my myself with my favourite burger.
Lately I often catch myself creating posts that never find their way out of my head to the forum. Yesterday it happened again. Since this post has a special meaning to me, as you’ll see if you read further, I decided to write it down here. So, this is what I almost posted, I guess it would have been in the “What are you doing?”- thread: Trying to make up my mind if I should go on vacation to London or not. A few years ago, I made it a tradition of spending a few days in London every year around my birthday (4th March). But this year I was quite indecisive. Until I stumbled – due to a weird chain of association, starting here in the music thread – over the Mountbatten festival at the Royal Albert Hall. Since it’s a festival I reckoned it would be annual and decided there would be no harm in checking the date for this year. It is on the 6th of March. Besides the Festival there is a long list of reasons in favour of keeping up my tradition. 1. Strolling through the wonderful and numerous parks. I always start in Hyde-Park making my way through to the Buckingham Palace. From there I continue down to the Thames through St.James’s Park, with a quick visit to the Royal Horse Guard. I love to watch the numerous dogs in Hyde Park and the lake in St. James Park with its birds. Not to mention the squirrels. 2. Having lunch at Pret-A-Manger with all my favourite food, in addition to the rather unhealthy emergency break at McDonalds after wandering up and down Oxford Street and Charing Cross. 3. Having a traditional Afternoon Tea. It’s still on my bucket list. 4. Waterstones. I guess there is nothing to add – just Waterstones. 5. A visit to the cinema. Perhaps ‘1917’ in the original version (I’ve already seen it in German) or something else. 6. Another visit to the Tower, one of my favourite places. 7. All the places I haven’t visited yet, like Westminster Abbey and the National Gallery. I guess this is a pretty long list. And still – I don’t know. To make a long story short – I’ve booked 2 hours ago. You may think now ‘Thank goodness, she spared us!’ and after rereading you might be right. After all it wasn’t a “life or death” – decision. But the important thing is, after making up this post I finally knew that I really, really wanted to go and after booking I couldn’t stop smiling. Thinking about it there is another kind of "almost" post that has a special effect on me. Sometimes I intend to write something in the ‘Not Happy Thread’. And often while working on that post (in my head) I recognize that I’m whining without good reason, and the ‘Unhappiness’ vanishes into thin air. So instead of making a one-sentence-post in the "Happiness"-thread I decided to write this, not only to share my happiness, but also to say, ‘Thank you.’. That’s a thing I already wanted to say on my one-year-membership- anniversary in December but somehow Christmas and other things got in the way. No matter if it’s a real post or an “almost” post or if I’m simply reading, I almost always find something I can connect to, think about or that makes me smile or even laugh out loud. Though I’m hanging around in the Lounge a lot, I also like the various threads in Applied Writing (which led me to the forum in the first place) and the ‘What are you reading?’- thread in Book Discussion. And I’m always curious when there are new blog entries. The monthly short story contest even motivated me to write my first English short story (Currently I’m mostly writing in German, though I’d like to change this someday). I ’m not really an online person, I’m not even on Facebook. Still, I’m happy I’ve found this forum. Thanks for reading, keep on doing what you are doing and take care!
The German band ‘Wolfsheim’ released a song called “Kein zurück” (loosely translated “there is no going back”) in 2003. There is one line which – due to certain circumstances – I can’t get out of my mind today. “Bis du irgendwann begreifst, Dass nicht jeder Abschied heißt, Es gibt auch ein Wiedersehen. (Wolfsheim, „Kein Zurück“ 2003) Again, in loose translation: Until you comprehend, that not every farewell means there will be a reunion. ‘Yeah, of course,’ you may say, ‘that’s nothing new. We knew this already.’ Well, I had to discover today, that there is a big difference between knowing and understanding. I still haven’t managed the understanding very well, and I fail completely when it comes to accepting. During our life we meet a lot of people. The exact number may depend on where we live and how we live, but usually it’s something you can’t avoid. Starting with your family the circle gets wider and wider. People come into our life in different contexts, some are more important to us than other. You choose some of them, like your closest friends. Or you simply have to deal with some people, for better or worse, like your boss at work. Sometimes we are lucky, and what started as a ‘forced’ meeting turns into a deep and trustful friendship. One of my best friends is a former colleague of mine. He is over twenty years older than me, and I doubt we would have ever met outside of work. Some relationships are bound to end or at least change after a certain time. For example, when you finish school you have to leave behind even your most favourite teachers. You may still see them from time to time at reunions, but it will never be the same. There are even friendships with a due date. People move away and it gets harder to hold the contact, or people - including yourself – change and there is fewer common ground. Though it’s a little sad usually you can deal with it. Life goes on, you meet new people. And somehow, even when friends are no longer part of your life, they are at least somewhere around, hopefully happy and well. It’s a completely different matter, when you know they aren’t. These are the abrupt, unexpected endings. And they are always unexpected, even when you know the person already lived on borrowed time. They hit you like a rock. And if there are loose ends, which are partly your fault, because you retreated for a while, not knowing things have taken a bad turn, it gets worse. A very brave and kind woman, who I laughed and cried with and who called me her friend, who invited me into her home and cooked for me to show me her gratefulness, is gone forever. And I didn’t know until today. I didn’t even get the chance to bid farewell. No one is blaming me, and I know she wasn’t alone, but my own regret hurts a lot in addition to the sadness that I’ll never see her again. I made a promise to myself tonight. No more procrastinating when it comes to friendship. Because you never know what might happen until it’s too late. And you might not get a second chance because some things – if you like it or not – are final. Apart from that I can only wish her well and say her my belated ‘goodbye’.
