Word We Never Use Anymore of the Day/This Day in Literary History

Tutty; Gross, irritable.
                    - Thomas Steinberg's Dialect and Folk-Lore of Northamptonshire, 1851


This Day in Literary History
On this day in 1667 Jonathan Swift was born in Dublin, the exact location seemingly pregnant with significance: a few blocks from St. Patrick's Cathedral, where Swift would be Dean; almost in the backyard of Dublin Castle, representing the Englishness he would both covet and skewer; the specific address, 7 Hoey's Court, almost perfect for perhaps the most famous scoffer in literature.

Word We Never Use Anymore of the Day/This Day in Literary History

Obering; An inkling of something important, yet thought a secret.
                    - John Mactaggart's Scottish Gallovidian Encyclopedia, 1824


This Day in Literary History
On this day in 1811, a notice appeared in the Richmond, Virginia Inquirer asking for donations in aid of Eliza Poe, a young actress now "lingering on the bed of disease and surrounded by her children." Though two-year-old Edgar would be rescued by the Allan family, the life of poverty, abandonment and hand-outs so familiar to his mother would eventually return to stay.

Word or Phrase We Never Use Anymore of the Day (With a New Feature!)

Signaturist; One who holds the 'doctrine of signatures'...by which it was formerly supposed (a plant's) nature or medical use was pointed (out).
                    - Joseph Worcester's Dictionary of the English Language, 1881


This Day in Literary History
On this day in 1582 William Shakespeare and Anne Hathaway (no, not that Anne Hathaway) married, or perhaps just paid for a bond giving them the right to do so. The facts are scanty, but we know that the groom was eighteen years old, the bride was twenty-six, and their first child, Susanna, was baptized six months later. There seems no way of knowing, but more than one biographer thinks that all this adds up to Shakespeare in Trouble rather than Shakespeare in Love.

My Apologies for the Lack of Updates...

The funny thing about writers is you'll never know when they're going to vanish in to exile, nor for how long. On the other hand, you'll never know when they return out of the darkness that is writer's block for something new.

But let us make a pact, you and I, my small yet loyal readership. I will keep writing, and you will keep reading, and the number of devotees will continue to expand. This is my mission, and I choose to accept. See you on the literary fore-front.

Published with Blogger-droid v1.6.5

Word or Phrase We Never Use Anymore of the Day

(And I'm back!)

Dog-flogger; A parish official whose duties consisted in expelling any dog...which might intrude into the church during the performance of any service. Te office usually joined with that of the sexton and pew-opener. The short, stout dog-whip was a regular part of the dog-whipper's equipment. In one Derby church, the office has existed down to the year 1861 and has become almost hereditary in one family.
                    - J.C. Atkinson's 'Forty Years in a Moorland Parish', 1891


(Wow, I'm happy we don't use that one anymore...)

Word or Phrase We Never Use Anymore of the Day

Barring-out; The breaking up of a school at the great holidays when the boys within bar the door against the master. Northern England.
                    - Samuel Pegge's Supplement to Grose's Provincial Glossary, 1814

Word or Phrase We Never Use Anymore of the Day

Trollibags; The intestines. Norfolk
                    - William Holloway's Dictionary of Provincialisms, 1838


Trolly-bags, an exclamation of surprise. "Oh my tripes and trolly-bags!"
                    - William Dickinson's Glossary of Cumberland, 1881

Word or Phrase We Never Use Anymore of the Day

Carroty; Annoyed, angry, after a scolding or mishap. Quick temper is supposed to go with red hair.
                    - Edward Gepp's Essex Dialect Dictionary, 1923


Spoken of red hair on account of its resemblance in colour to carrots.
                    - Samuel Johnson's Dictionary of the English Language, 1755


A shock of untidy carroty hair...
                    - W. S. Maugham's Creatures of Circumstance, 1947
            

Word or Phrase We Never Use Anymore of the Day

Anteloquy; A preface, or the first turn in speaking.
                    - Thomas Blount's Glassographia, 1656


A term which stage-players use, by them called their 'cue'.
                    - Henry Cockeram's Interpreter of Hard English Words, 1623


You are welcome, America.

Word or Phrase We Never Use Anymore of the Day

Cothish; Faint, sickly, ailing. It is amply justified by modern and very frequent use. A dog is said to cothy when he is meek and delicate. [From] cothe, to faint.
                    - Robert Forby's Vocabulary of East Anglia, 1830


Morose, uncouth; East Anglia, Norfolk.
                    - Joseph Wright's English Dialect Dictionary, 1896-1905


The springs in the New Forest are said "to cothe" the sheep - that is, to disease their livers.
                    - J.R. Wise's New Forest, 1880

Something from the heart.

I know that this is a fairly new blog. There are only a handful of posts. Readership is growing, but still small. And while I will continue to post unique and often humorous insights in to the world of writing and the inkers behind them, I want to share something personal with you.

I have admitted, and will continue to admit, that a large purpose of this blog is to help me vent out all the mental dust-bunnies that are stuck in my head, in hopes to find something creative beyond them - a script or a chapter I've been itching to pen for months, even years. This is no different. And I do suggest the same to you, the readers of present and future, to flesh out these thoughts, in hopes for something substantial to surface in the aftermath.

This past weekend, I celebrated Yom Kippur, the Jewish day of atonement. The day where we are not meant to eat, drink, wash, use any electronics, wear leather, or anything that might create pleasure in any form. Instead, we are meant to reflect on the year gone by and the wrongdoings we may have done during it. We sacrifice everything for one day, to repent, to pray, so that our book may be wiped clean, and all is forgiven.

I go to temple with my family and loved ones that day to do such. And, while there, we pray in Hebrew - a language that I can read fluently, but do not understand a word I am saying. I grasp the gist. We pray to our lord in heaven to be forgiven. We mourn over those we have lost. But, I can freely admit that, though I know the gist of my prayers, though I know why I am there, I do not know what I am specifically saying. Still, there is something very comforting about being in my house of worship. It is the same one I've been going to for nearly twenty years. I see face I don't get to see but once a year. I've seen families come and go. I've seen infants grow to teenagers. I have friends that, though I don't contact regularly, I see there, and it is as if we were apart for a day or two.

But, more than that, there is something within that temple that is beyond explanation. A presence that wraps itself around me, that courses through every fiber of my body. It's warm, it's welcoming, it's familiar. The pain, the stress, the potholes of everyday life are locked out. They are washed away by the smell of the air inside the walls, by the somber voices of the congregation, by that presence that I cannot simply put my finger on.

One of the highlights, however, of the service is the Rabbi's Sermon. Our Rabbi, Robert Pilavin, stands up on the bimah in front of hundreds of congregants, and for approximately 45 minutes, will speak on an issue that is close to his heart. I, for one, am fond of his speeches, namely for the fact that I understand what he is saying. His sermons are critiqued as black or white - either the congregation was satisfied with what he has spoken about, or thought it was pointless propaganda. And, I will admit, his speeches over the last few years have been rather disappointing for me. Do not get me wrong, I admire the man. I look up to him as my spiritual and religious leader, even to point of visiting him personally for issues I was dealing with. But, his sermons of late have been about the American economy, or Israel's struggle in the Middle East. Granted, very important issues, but not what I came to temple for. I came to be moved, for my heart to be touched, to be inspired to continue having faith in my religion and my God.

This year, my Rabbi decided to touch on a personal matter. He spoke of his father, who had passed away in December of last year. His father was by no means a religious man, nor were his children (albeit the one who would one day become a Rabbi). The Rabbi was in tears as he continued to speak of his father. The congregation was no different. Every which way I turned, women, men, and children who were listening, were red in the face, tears streaming down their cheeks, sniffling. He continued with a song that he sang to the congregation. It was a song that, whenever he asked his father what song he should play on the piano, this would be the one he would always choose:

The falling leaves drift by the window 
The autumn leaves of red and gold 
I see your lips, the summer kisses 
The sun-burned hands I used to hold 

Since you went away the days grow long 
And soon I'll hear old winter's song 
But I miss you most of all my darling 
When autumn leaves start to fall 



I thought about why he would speak about such a topic. A sad story, absolutely, but what made it of any relevance to this High Holiday? I then thought about my grandmother, who tragically passed away in May of this year. As I write now, I fight the tears, thinking about her. All she ever wanted was to see me succeed in my craft, my passion. She loved it when I sent her some of my work - scripts, short films. She told me to never give up. To always fight for what I loved to do, no matter how hard I was pushed down. And she still does. She is still here. That presence I felt in temple. It is her. It is those who are no longer with us in physical form. They are the ones who I feel when I enter that building. It is my connection to them, to her. 


Perhaps this is how my Rabbi felt. Through some way or another, his father was the one who inspired him, not to become a Rabbi, but to have faith, to pursue in something that he believed in. And though the times change, like the leaves of autumn, people move away, people die, your faith never falters. It remains, thanks to the people who have inspired you to do so. It remains, thanks to the faith you have in yourself. 


And, for that reason alone, I will never give up. And neither should you. Whether your dream is to write, or to educate, or to go to the moon, don't give up. Always remember those people who would tell you to do that.

Word or Phrase We Never Use Anymore of the Day

Trope; A change of a word from its original signification; as 'the clouds foretel rain' for foreshew. Samuel Butlers Hudibras [offered]
     For rhetoric he could not ope
     His mouth, but out there flew a trope.
                    - Samuel Johnson's Dictionary of the English Language, 1755

Word or Phrase We Never Use Anymore of the Day

For all you writers out there looking to expand their vocabulary. Words of Old English in your work will definitely help get it noticed...be it for better or worse...


Hoppety-Hick; Spoken of a person whose galt exhibits a sort of hopping movement followed by a kicking or swinging motion of one leg.
                    - G. F. Northall's 'Warwickshire Word-Book'; circa 1896

And the Academy Award Goes To...

For those of you who know me from beyond this blog, you should know that I am an avid writer of multiple forms - novels, short stories, poetry, blogging (though a relatively new venture), as well as writing for marketing/public relations. However, I have, for the most part, know to and be keen on writing screenplays for short and feature length films.

Heaven knows I love the cinema. I've been working for over a decade on various short and feature films, some of which have been produced. Others, well, they're waiting for the opportune moment. And, without the screenplay, there would be no cinema. A great quote to adhere to for all you screenwriters and filmmakers out there:

"You can make a bad movie out of a great script, but you can NEVER make a great, good or even decent movie from a bad script"

So, having said that, here is the introduction to an ongoing series that will be occurring on this blog. Along with suggested reads and reviews, both in literature and in cinema, I will be going through time, informing you on the best of the best in screenplay history.

Over the course of time, however long it may take, will read and/or watch the films that have won the original screenplay honor at the Academy Awards.

Starting with 1928 and the (ironically) silent film 'Underworld' by Ben Hecht, all the way to 2009 with 'The Hurt Locker' by Mark Boal. (I will most likely have to add whomever wins the 2010 award....this is going to be a long process)

*It should be noted that from 1928-1957, writers were awarded best original STORY. Afterward, it changed in favor for best original SCREENPLAY*

So, join me, if you will, as I take this journey through time, to discover the history of cinema's blueprint - the screenplay.

And the Academy Award Goes To...

For those of you who know me from beyond this blog, you should know that I am an avid writer of multiple forms - novels, short stories, poetry, blogging (though a relatively new venture), as well as writing for marketing/public relations. However, I have, for the most part, know to and be keen on writing screenplays for short and feature length films.

Heaven knows I love the cinema. I've been working for over a decade on various short and feature films, some of which have been produced. Others, well, they're waiting for the opportune moment. And, without the screenplay, there would be no cinema. A great quote to adhere to for all you screenwriters and filmmakers out there:

"You can make a bad movie out of a great script, but you can NEVER make a great, good or even decent movie from a bad script"

So, having said that, here is the introduction to an ongoing series that will be occurring on this blog. Along with suggested reads and reviews, both in literature and in cinema, I will be going through time, informing you on the best of the best in screenplay history.

Over the course of time, however long it may take, will read and/or watch the films that have won the original screenplay honor at the Academy Awards.

Starting with 1928 and the (ironically) silent film 'Underworld' by Ben Hecht, all the way to 2009 with 'The Hurt Locker' by Mark Boal. (I will most likely have to add whomever wins the 2010 award....this is going to be a long process)

*It should be noted that from 1928-1957, writers were awarded best original STORY. Afterward, it changed in favor for best original SCREENPLAY*

So, join me, if you will, as I take this journey through time, to discover the history of cinema's blueprint - the screenplay.

How to Get in the Mood...

Oh yea, baby, you know what I'm talking about. You know there are times when you are sitting there, all alone in your darkened bedroom. You get that feeling in your body. That tingly sensation in your fingertips. You know you want to do it. You feel the cool, smooth surface of your desk, and you know the time is right. So, dim those lights, pop open a can of Monster Energy Drink, and start pounding that keyboard...

But there are times when you just don't feel like it. You've heard the excuses. "I have a headache" "I'm too tired, I'll do it tomorrow."

Well, enough of that. Here are some methods you might want to try to get you in the mood.

Start by doing it by hand - I've always felt that using a pen and paper is a much better way to start off, rather than using your word processor. You can be extra sloppy. If you mess up, don't worry, just cross it out and try again. When you've got it all down on paper, transfer it on to the computer, where you can clean it up, fix any mistakes. It's basically like a second draft. But be careful not to get your ink everywhere...

Do a quickie - It doesn't matter if it's one word, one sentence, or one page. Just bang it out. Whenever an idea pops in to your head, no matter how big or small (no, size does not matter), get it out of your head and on to the page. Trust me, they'll keep coming to you until, eventually, you'll have a story on your hands.

Watch someone else do it - Sometimes, getting inspiration can come in a variety of ways. If you're trying to write a fantasy story, watch your favorite fantasy movie, or read a chapter from your favorite fantasy novel. It'll help get you in the mindset you need to flesh out your story or characters.

Do it in a place you've never done it before - Sure, the bed or the desk might be a place to get started. But, after a while, it can start to become boring and will eventually turn you off from doing it ever again. So, spice it up a bit. Go to a nice, relaxing spot, like a park or the library, and really go to town on it.

Find a partner to do it with - Sometimes, writing on your own can get a bit tricky. You start to doubt yourself, or find yourself at a wall that you just cannot seem to hop over. So, bring in someone else - a friend, peer, coworker, and have them help you out a bit. They can give you advice, point you in the right direction, even help you flesh out an idea.

I hope these words of advice really do help put you in the mood to write your next big idea. And if you thought this post was for anything other than how to get your next writing idea off the ground, then shame on you. Such a dirty mind people have nowadays. Eesh...

How to Get in the Mood...

Oh yea, baby, you know what I'm talking about. You know there are times when you are sitting there, all alone in your darkened bedroom. You get that feeling in your body. That tingly sensation in your fingertips. You know you want to do it. You feel the cool, smooth surface of your desk, and you know the time is right. So, dim those lights, pop open a can of Monster Energy Drink, and start pounding that keyboard...

But there are times when you just don't feel like it. You've heard the excuses. "I have a headache" "I'm too tired, I'll do it tomorrow."

Well, enough of that. Here are some methods you might want to try to get you in the mood.

Start by doing it by hand - I've always felt that using a pen and paper is a much better way to start off, rather than using your word processor. You can be extra sloppy. If you mess up, don't worry, just cross it out and try again. When you've got it all down on paper, transfer it on to the computer, where you can clean it up, fix any mistakes. It's basically like a second draft. But be careful not to get your ink everywhere...

Do a quickie - It doesn't matter if it's one word, one sentence, or one page. Just bang it out. Whenever an idea pops in to your head, no matter how big or small (no, size does not matter), get it out of your head and on to the page. Trust me, they'll keep coming to you until, eventually, you'll have a story on your hands.

Watch someone else do it - Sometimes, getting inspiration can come in a variety of ways. If you're trying to write a fantasy story, watch your favorite fantasy movie, or read a chapter from your favorite fantasy novel. It'll help get you in the mindset you need to flesh out your story or characters.

Do it in a place you've never done it before - Sure, the bed or the desk might be a place to get started. But, after a while, it can start to become boring and will eventually turn you off from doing it ever again. So, spice it up a bit. Go to a nice, relaxing spot, like a park or the library, and really go to town on it.

Find a partner to do it with - Sometimes, writing on your own can get a bit tricky. You start to doubt yourself, or find yourself at a wall that you just cannot seem to hop over. So, bring in someone else - a friend, peer, coworker, and have them help you out a bit. They can give you advice, point you in the right direction, even help you flesh out an idea.

I hope these words of advice really do help put you in the mood to write your next big idea. And if you thought this post was for anything other than how to get your next writing idea off the ground, then shame on you. Such a dirty mind people have nowadays. Eesh...

I pledge allegiance to the pen...

I have a confession to make. A part, however slight or substantial you want to think of it, this blog is somewhat of a method of therapy for me. I created a blog for the neurotic writer who may be suffering from writer's block, in hopes to cure my own writer's block.

So, after the past couple of days, I found myself dumbfounded as I found myself having writer's block for the blog on writer's block. I know, my mind feels deflated too.

What do I write as my first official entry? It has to be perfect. The topic has to matter. Every word has to count. If it's just word vomit then who the hell is going to read this blog, or anything I write...EVER. Oh wait...

And there in lies the problem. I was thinking. How rude of me. I know what you're thinking. Typically, when attempting to come up with a story, or an article, or a blog post, or any voluntary act for that matter, should require some thought to it. But what if it doesn't? What if the cure is to not think about it and, for the love of all that is holy, JUST WRITE!

The movie 'Finding Forrester', starring James Bond as a reclusive writer who forms a literary bond with a student with a passion for the craft, has a line that I always try to think of when hitting the proverbial great wall of writer's block. It goes as follows:

"No thinking - that comes later. You must write your first draft with your heart. You rewrite with your head. The first key to writing is... to write, not to think!"

So, here it is, therapy lesson #1 for that writer who can't seem to write the next sentence in his or her novel, or next line of dialogue in his or her screenplay...

Lesson #1: Start a blog.

Well, you don't have to do that. But it sure is helping me. I just wrote the first two scenes to a feature screenplay I never thought would leap out of my brain and on to paper.

Lesson #2: Just write.

Don't worry about if it's perfect or not. It's not written in stone (Unless you're actually carving in to a stone. But, even then, there are plenty of stones around). You can always look at what you've written afterward, show it to a friend or colleague, and determine then what needs to change or be added. But just write down whatever the pen or keyboard makes you write. Let it consume you. Don't think of the absolute perfect thing to say next. Just write the thing that comes next.

The two scenes I have written will definitely need to be changed. No doubt about it. But it can wait. They words, both description and dialogue spoken by my characters came from my heart. I just wrote, not thinking much about the perfect thing to say. And that, to me, is a huge cause for writer's block. Write now. Think later.

And I leave you, for now, with a solemn prayer written by my personal favorite author, Neil Gaiman. Print this and hang this on your wall, so that you may wake up to it every morning.

A Writer’s Prayer

Oh Lord, let me not be one of those who writes too much;

who spreads himself too thinly with his words,

diluting all the things he has to say,

like butter spread too thinly over toast,

or watered milk in some worn-out hotel;

but let me write the things I have to say,

and then be silent, ’til I need to speak.

Oh Lord, let me not be one of those who writes too little;

a decade-man between each tale, or more,

where every word accrues significance

and dread replaces joy upon the page.

Perfectionists like chasing the horizon;

You kept perfection, gave the rest to us,

so let me earn the wisdom to move on.

But over and above those two mad spectres of parsimony and profligacy,

Lord, let me be brave, and let me, while I craft my tales, be wise:

let me say true things in a voice that is true,

and, with the truth in mind, let me write lies.

And let us say, Amen.

I pledge allegiance to the pen...

I have a confession to make. A part, however slight or substantial you want to think of it, this blog is somewhat of a method of therapy for me. I created a blog for the neurotic writer who may be suffering from writer's block, in hopes to cure my own writer's block.

So, after the past couple of days, I found myself dumbfounded as I found myself having writer's block for the blog on writer's block. I know, my mind feels deflated too.

What do I write as my first official entry? It has to be perfect. The topic has to matter. Every word has to count. If it's just word vomit then who the hell is going to read this blog, or anything I write...EVER. Oh wait...

And there in lies the problem. I was thinking. How rude of me. I know what you're thinking. Typically, when attempting to come up with a story, or an article, or a blog post, or any voluntary act for that matter, should require some thought to it. But what if it doesn't? What if the cure is to not think about it and, for the love of all that is holy, JUST WRITE!

The movie 'Finding Forrester', starring James Bond as a reclusive writer who forms a literary bond with a student with a passion for the craft, has a line that I always try to think of when hitting the proverbial great wall of writer's block. It goes as follows:

"No thinking - that comes later. You must write your first draft with your heart. You rewrite with your head. The first key to writing is... to write, not to think!"

So, here it is, therapy lesson #1 for that writer who can't seem to write the next sentence in his or her novel, or next line of dialogue in his or her screenplay...

Lesson #1: Start a blog.

Well, you don't have to do that. But it sure is helping me. I just wrote the first two scenes to a feature screenplay I never thought would leap out of my brain and on to paper.

Lesson #2: Just write.

Don't worry about if it's perfect or not. It's not written in stone (Unless you're actually carving in to a stone. But, even then, there are plenty of stones around). You can always look at what you've written afterward, show it to a friend or colleague, and determine then what needs to change or be added. But just write down whatever the pen or keyboard makes you write. Let it consume you. Don't think of the absolute perfect thing to say next. Just write the thing that comes next.

The two scenes I have written will definitely need to be changed. No doubt about it. But it can wait. They words, both description and dialogue spoken by my characters came from my heart. I just wrote, not thinking much about the perfect thing to say. And that, to me, is a huge cause for writer's block. Write now. Think later.

And I leave you, for now, with a solemn prayer written by my personal favorite author, Neil Gaiman. Print this and hang this on your wall, so that you may wake up to it every morning.

A Writer’s Prayer

Oh Lord, let me not be one of those who writes too much;

who spreads himself too thinly with his words,

diluting all the things he has to say,

like butter spread too thinly over toast,

or watered milk in some worn-out hotel;

but let me write the things I have to say,

and then be silent, ’til I need to speak.

Oh Lord, let me not be one of those who writes too little;

a decade-man between each tale, or more,

where every word accrues significance

and dread replaces joy upon the page.

Perfectionists like chasing the horizon;

You kept perfection, gave the rest to us,

so let me earn the wisdom to move on.

But over and above those two mad spectres of parsimony and profligacy,

Lord, let me be brave, and let me, while I craft my tales, be wise:

let me say true things in a voice that is true,

and, with the truth in mind, let me write lies.

And let us say, Amen.

Book 1: The Diary of Hershel Nevaeh - Prologue

I think I'm going to start off this blog with the Prologue to a novel series I am working on. I'm not going to give a synopsis...just yet. I'll just leave it up to you. Enjoy!

Oct. 18th,

I have dreamt of the future. I have envisioned a prosperous settlement for people of my kind. I have foreseen death and destruction take so many forms, it would turn any other man’s heart black. This very book I am writing in contains the light and dark times of a blooming community that I am at the helm of. I have ushered in the beginning. Yet, I fear, that with this entry, I am foretelling the end.

I see a time when my community is as flourishing as ever, long after I am gone. War and suffering are nonexistent. My decree to use our abilities to serve humanity has become law. My small village, which will be named after myself, will be transformed in to a kingdom, a utopia. A time when the sun will shine down on a people that, until recently, were casted within shadow.

But a cloud will blot the sky.

A change will occur. An objection to the ways I have mandated. And this grievance will usher a potential end to the ways my people will have known for generations. A great monster will be let loose. A conflict between a race that has grown to maintain harmony. Bloodshed will be great. Great heroes will fall from the sky. Brothers will become enemies. Enemies will become brothers. And, in the end, my vision will be transformed, adapted to a new way of existence, remodeled after a new prophet’s reverie.

Yes, at the eye of this hurricane is a boy. A simple child, as innocent as any to an eye that dost not belong to me. It shall begin when a crimson body flares in the night sky, which will shine its beacon three times at three different locations from the beginning of the boys journey to the end. The three guardians will follow the first illumination to the child’s birthplace, where mother nor father exist. The second will beacon on the eve of the eighteenth year, in a location within my Kingdom that has been barren for centuries. The third and final red sun shall bear witness to the end, where this child’s vision will be complete.

The child will grow to become more powerful in strength and abilities than any other of my kind has seen or will see until that very moment. He will posses the five original abilities, and able to conjure them with great ease and with even greater force. And he will be blessed (or cursed) with the power no one knows, or will ever have. He will use that power to destroy the ways of old, and create new world based on his image. I fear the worst is ahead.

Alas, a spec of light at the end of the abyss. I see hope for this dark time. I see the child, who will not only bring on this war, but will also usher in a time of peace, greater than ever before. He will be looked at as more than a monarch, a messiah, a sovereign for my people, who will shepherd them out of the blackness. I stand perplexed.

A child of peace, a child of war...

A child of life, a child of death...

A child of the end, a child of the beginning.....

Book 1: The Diary of Hershel Nevaeh - Prologue

I think I'm going to start off this blog with the Prologue to a novel series I am working on. I'm not going to give a synopsis...just yet. I'll just leave it up to you. Enjoy!

Oct. 18th,

I have dreamt of the future. I have envisioned a prosperous settlement for people of my kind. I have foreseen death and destruction take so many forms, it would turn any other man’s heart black. This very book I am writing in contains the light and dark times of a blooming community that I am at the helm of. I have ushered in the beginning. Yet, I fear, that with this entry, I am foretelling the end.

I see a time when my community is as flourishing as ever, long after I am gone. War and suffering are nonexistent. My decree to use our abilities to serve humanity has become law. My small village, which will be named after myself, will be transformed in to a kingdom, a utopia. A time when the sun will shine down on a people that, until recently, were casted within shadow.

But a cloud will blot the sky.

A change will occur. An objection to the ways I have mandated. And this grievance will usher a potential end to the ways my people will have known for generations. A great monster will be let loose. A conflict between a race that has grown to maintain harmony. Bloodshed will be great. Great heroes will fall from the sky. Brothers will become enemies. Enemies will become brothers. And, in the end, my vision will be transformed, adapted to a new way of existence, remodeled after a new prophet’s reverie.

Yes, at the eye of this hurricane is a boy. A simple child, as innocent as any to an eye that dost not belong to me. It shall begin when a crimson body flares in the night sky, which will shine its beacon three times at three different locations from the beginning of the boys journey to the end. The three guardians will follow the first illumination to the child’s birthplace, where mother nor father exist. The second will beacon on the eve of the eighteenth year, in a location within my Kingdom that has been barren for centuries. The third and final red sun shall bear witness to the end, where this child’s vision will be complete.

The child will grow to become more powerful in strength and abilities than any other of my kind has seen or will see until that very moment. He will posses the five original abilities, and able to conjure them with great ease and with even greater force. And he will be blessed (or cursed) with the power no one knows, or will ever have. He will use that power to destroy the ways of old, and create new world based on his image. I fear the worst is ahead.

Alas, a spec of light at the end of the abyss. I see hope for this dark time. I see the child, who will not only bring on this war, but will also usher in a time of peace, greater than ever before. He will be looked at as more than a monarch, a messiah, a sovereign for my people, who will shepherd them out of the blackness. I stand perplexed.

A child of peace, a child of war...

A child of life, a child of death...

A child of the end, a child of the beginning.....

Tales From an Unscripted Writer

"...and what happens next?"

The words every writer needs to hear. When your readers say those words at the end of a scene or chapter, you know you got something special on your hands. So, I bet you're wondering what's going to happen next...

Welcome to the blog devoted to the power of ink, and the hold it has (ironically) on the one holding the pen. Here you will find some original work, either short form, scenes from a screenplay, or chapters from a novel I have somehow been able to produce. You will also find some thoughts on, well, lack of thoughts, and the thrill that is neurosis of the brain as I brave myself through the tumultuous terrain of the struggling writer.

As well, I hope to have some reader submitted works on here, as my goal is to reach out to you, the writer who reads. If you have something you would like to get out there and have avid readers and writers speak their mind about your work, then this site is for you. This is the plan.

Welcome. Enjoy. Go ink yourself.

Tales From an Unscripted Writer

"...and what happens next?"

The words every writer needs to hear. When your readers say those words at the end of a scene or chapter, you know you got something special on your hands. So, I bet you're wondering what's going to happen next...

Welcome to the blog devoted to the power of ink, and the hold it has (ironically) on the one holding the pen. Here you will find some original work, either short form, scenes from a screenplay, or chapters from a novel I have somehow been able to produce. You will also find some thoughts on, well, lack of thoughts, and the thrill that is neurosis of the brain as I brave myself through the tumultuous terrain of the struggling writer.

As well, I hope to have some reader submitted works on here, as my goal is to reach out to you, the writer who reads. If you have something you would like to get out there and have avid readers and writers speak their mind about your work, then this site is for you. This is the plan.

Welcome. Enjoy. Go ink yourself.