Again, not a story, but have fun!
Inspired by sitting stewing in my English classroom whilst trying to look like I'm thinking. (It's easier said than done :p)
The all too familiar smell of gently frying brain cells hovers over our heads and the atmosphere of fatigue gone silly fills the room with its chatter and laughter as I banter ideas around the page with my friends.I rack my distracted brain for some tiny, microscopic speck of an idea to drift, dust-ball like, across the surface of my mind so I can write a vaguely good piece of coursework, depressing in its requirements.Whilst I agitate the conscious layer of my brain, apparently the cerebral cortex, ideas swarm and formulate beneath the surface, like some malicious sludge, stirred up from the bottom of a pond.These malignant swirlings are the plans and ideas, clinging to the bare shell of a plot, building and growing into some kind of inconceivable equation. The formulae of thought and experience, the good, the bad, and the ugly, creating something new.Words, words, words. Those mysterious little shapes that are the DNA for so much of my world. Words, in all their glory, in describing the horrors of war, the pains of loss and the joys of life. I find myself writing absolute drivel.Yet beyond the drivel emerging from my pen the plot sits at the back of my mind, waiting. Waiting, for more knowledge, more thoughts, more ideas, to add to the puzzle, to build upwards and outwards, to fill the perplexing holes in the book, as leaf upon leaf of rough scrawled notes cry out to be crafted and sculpted into the book that awaits their words.Alas, it doesn’t take long for the notes I have to become exhausted, as the more logical, and boring, layer of my brain takes over and the creative supernova of ideas must sink back into the watery depths, till some other disturbance stirs it up again.For now it’s back to the drawing board, and, “Je ne sais pas”is the ruling statement over my pitifully incredulous thoughts. The catalyst which spurred on the constant production and flow of words and ideas has gone. Used up in one brain cell-blowing explosion. Now the debris of that explosion has formed a blockage in the drain of my inspired mind, and is preventing the words from flowing through on their watery route to the page.
The characters twiddle their thumbs, waiting; clay-like, to be moulded into something new. The plot sits, like an unfinished plane, loitering in the recesses for new sheets of ideas to clothe it, so, eventually, it can take off and soar the heights of bookshelves, and cruise through other people’s minds on its first flight of creation.
However, the aircraft of and idea will have to wait until I have time and resource to construct it well and can replenish the inspiration for creation have exhausted.
For now I will have to enslave my ingenuity to the all-powerful command of GCSEs and coursework. But a little part of me will always be sitting at a window, day-dreaming in a stew of imagination and creative design, to keep the craft from rusting into the oblivion of my mind.
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Written by Bottleblondesurfer (3590 comments posted) 1st September 2008 | Blimey, your mind is a pretty scary place. It wasn't an easy read for me . I often struggle with these stream of conciousness pieces and this one seemed to rattle along a such a pace.
It's always intriguing to see into someone else's mind,sometimes disconcerting, though
cheers
jane |
Written by Bookwormandco. (39 comments posted) 2nd September 2008 | He he he!
Thanks Jane, you don't know half of it!
I wrote this as a joke to start with but I couldn't think of anything else for my coursework so I used it in the end. I don't know what the examiner will think!
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Written by Abigail (29 comments posted) 3rd September 2008 | I really like this peice, it is exactly how I feel trying to write. i like the part were you say you find yourself writing absolute drivel. I can relate very well. I write something, then re-read it, and I realize its nothing like I meant it to be. I wish that I could let people peer inside of my head to see how interesting the story really is, since it never comes out on the page quite right.
Actually, I'd like to peer inside of your head. It seems like an interesting place. |
Written by Bookwormandco. (39 comments posted) 4th September 2008 | Thanks for the comment Abigail.
My head is a crazy place, belive you me (I have to live there :P).
I hadn't thought of peering inside poeples heads, hearing their thoughts is the more cliche version I guess. It would be very useful in some cases.
Unfortunately one of the parts of writing is getting what's in your head onto the paper, without the use of telepathic brain surgery, hmmmmm...... maybe something to invent there. :P
I always end up writing about 10 pages of notes for a 2 page piece of work, the trees must hate me! |
Written by Fledermaus (3506 comments posted) 6th September 2008 | Indeed not an easy read, but an interesting description of how a flow of consciousness might actually appear. Although it was pure chaos, I liked the style. Certainly not cliche. As for telepathic brain surgery: I guess that if you'd directly put what you think onto paper, without going past a few other brain parts the chaos might be even bigger.
I thought this was a refreshing idea. | Brilliant
Written by owl_light (58 comments posted) 14th September 2008 | 
Yep. Drivel goes on to the page. Then more of the plot comes. The brain disturbance that musses everything up again. I know exactly what you mean.
Loved the analogy of the rusting aircraft, what with XL and AirItalia.
http://www.advancedfictionwriting.com/art/snowflake.php offers a good strategy for organising thoughts. |
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