Is reading for everyone?

Hello everyone!!! I’m thrilled, I’ve just finished school! Yay! No more boring classes or stupid homework, I’m free for 3 months! =)

I have realized I can’t really post as much as I’d like, because my head doesn’t let me, and my time doesn’t either. So I proposed myself to write, if not twice a week, once, which I believe is the most I can do. I hope you’re not too disappointed, though.

Well, for today’s post:

A few days ago I went with some friends to a bookstore near my school. They don’t like reading that much, while I am a total book dork, as Roni would say. I was showimg them “Endless world” by Ken Follet (you know, that bestseller with more than 1400 pages) and they, opening their eyes wide, bewildered, asked me if I would really read that. I answered ‘Yeah, wouldn’t you?’. So that started me thinking. I don’t sincerely believe everyone likes reading, for there are plenty of people, in particular young people, who can’t even stand the thought of it, and that is due to the variety of people, the diversity of opinions and likes, and the difference from one another (which, I believe, makes the world a better place). But I wonder, nevertheless: how can they live without reading? I know I couldn’t.

That made me think about a world without books (sure, hell for me). How would that be? I can’t even imagine… I know that kind of world would be totally uninteresting for me –even though there are other things I like besides reading- but I realize it is one of the things I enjoy doing the most, and I sure couldn’t live without it.

So what do you think? How would a world without books be? And, better still, what would it mean to you? How would you manage to survive? Come on, comment, tell me your opinion.

Reading vs. watching

Hey! Sorry I’ve not been writing for a while, I was just overwhelmed by my exams. I promise it won’t happen again, LOL.

I came across a cool post at Roni’s blog about reading a book before or after watching the movie based on it. I commented on the post as follows:

I am and have always been a read first person. I believe that if you watch a movie before reading its book you lose the chance to experience the reading.

When you read, you create a world based on what the writers tell you, but it is yours, it's in your head and therefore it is susceptible to your thoughts, your beliefs and your mood. For example, when the writer describes a house as white, your subconscious imagination may turn it black, just because YOU don’t see it that way.

Also, when I read a book after watching its movie, I fail to get the experience of creating that world, of imagining my own characters, and start seeing things the way they’re shown in the movie. That’s what happened with Harry Potter, for instance. I don’t even remember how I used to imagine the school, or even the main characters… When I read the books now, they just look and act like the actors. That is why I prefer reading before watching, so as to keep the excellent experience of imagining, which, after all, is what reading is all about.

After all, I seriously believe you, as a reader, finish writing the story when you read it.

So what do you think? Do you prefer reading before or after watching? Do you agree with the statement about finishing to write the story ourselves?

Nasty thoughts

Today I’m gonna do something someone back in time suggested that I did when I had so many emotions I felt like exploding, which is to write. She said that by writing you can get things off your chest, which is what I now desire most.

I have been through some situations that were stressful and made me very sad, from which I couldn’t get out, and that I will only be 100% relieved from when I come of age –and I am not very sure that then I will be fully relieved-. I don’t wish to upset or make you sad, so I won’t go into much detail about these situations, I’m just gonna say they stress me a lot and bring the worst of me, and give me the need to be alone and lie on my bed for hours. Or maybe the need to stand at the top floor of my building and shout my heart out till the anger and sadness go away… Or perhaps just curl up and hold my knees as tightly as I can, and play loud music, so as to avoid hearing my thoughts.

Instead of doing all that, I decided to follow the advice I once received and write, pour my feelings onto this blank blog thing, to turn my rage, sadness, anger into something else. So here I am. Devoting my thoughts to the noble art of writing to keep them away from cruel reality.

Not that reality is always so cruel, no. I have two different realities, which is something I don’t even understand. I have the suffering reality that thinks about these facts, that tells me I don’t have a way out, that depresses me and drives me nuts. And I have the other reality, the one which –thankfully- I perceive most of the time, the one that is wonderfully happy with her situation, the one that is in love, the one that has so many friends and enjoys spending her life with them, the one that reads, writes, the one that loves her granny so much she could endure the annoyance of being thoroughly clean just to be with her all the time, the one that loves dancing and singing… The one that lives.

Thankfully, the nicest reality is the most present in my life, but when these nasty situations appear, on comes the sad one, and away goes the happy. I just wish I could make the happy one stay with me a little longer, teach me how to defeat the sad one… Anyway, I believe everyone has two parts inside, the good and the bad, the happy and the sad, the ying and the yang… And we, especially me, need to learn to live with them both, enjoying life as much as we can…

Thank you very much for enduring the boredom of reading this post, if you did, and if you didn’t, I don’t blame you, it must have been absolutely boring, but I needed to get this burden off of me, and I believe that by writing this I eased a bit the horrible pain I feel at the top of my stomach, I slightly loosened the huge knot I had in my soul. But don’t worry, tomorrow I’ll be happier, and I’ll do a much happier post.

Typing vs writing

I was looking at David's blog and reading a post he made about the fun of writing [See the whole post here], and a particular topic called my attention.

He mentioned that old-fashioned writers wrote in paper, and modern ones typed, but that he felt more like a writer and less like a typist when he wrote by hand. That started me thinking.

When I write by hand, I make arrows, graphs, drawings, etc. If you saw my scrapbooks, you would see a scribbled sea of little spiders, one on top of the other, a giant knot of black pencil (I hate writing by pen, but I love my black pencil). When I type, I cannot do this, of course, but I have other resources: I can get ideas, look for unknown words, find names or characters, etc. through google.

Personally, I write by hand, on a notebook or just on any scrap piece of paper, and when I am happy with my first draft, I copy it on the computer. That’s the moment when I start looking for stuff with my bestest friend, google. I may look for a name’s meaning, some geographical information, or maybe for a writing prompt to keep on writing. I believe that writing by hand doesn’t make you more a writer than typing, but it makes you feel (at least I do) that your creation is more yours, because instead of being written in Arial 12, it is written in your personal writing.

So what do you think? Is a writer less a writer because of writing on a computer? What do you prefer when writing?

Award moment

Thank you very much Serene Chaos for this awesome award... I can't believe such a gifted, talented artist thought me worthy of receiving this... =) Check out her super cool blog: http://serenechaos101.blogspot.com/




These are the instructions coming with the award:

1. Thank whoever gave this to you
2. Copy award
3. Post it in your blog
4. Tell us 7 things that your readers don’t know
5. Link 7 new bloggers
6. Notify winners of the award with a comment on their blog
7. Keep being awesome!


So, for the 7 things my readers might not know:

1. I am in love with someone 15 years older than me.
2. I am about to finish my first year of Jazz Dance Teacher Training.
3. I want to be an English teacher.
4. I'm raising money up to buy a digital piano.
5. I live and was born in Argentina.
6. I wear braces... (I'll hopefully and willingly leave them in December! YAY!)

And now, ladies and gentlemen, the most awaited moment of the day... My chosen winners!

1. http://fictiongroupie.blogspot.com/ Roni gives the best advice in regards to writing, and has helped me to write better! =)
2. http://jodyhedlund.blogspot.com/ Jody has an amazing writing style.
3. http://www.awritersvoice.com/ Deborah's posts are full of feeling and sympathy.
4. http://insanitysmusings.blogspot.com/ Gavin writes and makes you feel exactly the way he wants.
5. http://picturespoetryprose.blogspot.com/ It's been a while since they post, but I love them, their prompts are of the best.
6. http://oneminutewriter.blogspot.com/ Another blog with great prompts, C. Beth rocks it!
7. http://juleswrites.blogspot.com/ Julie keeps a diary of her life that is very interesting to read.

All these blogs are great, go check them out!

Stormy night

Yesterday night I saw the most impressing storm I had ever seen. I had never seen such a wonderful, enormous and scary thing in my life. What I saw looked more or less like this:

Or this:

Let me explain myself. I live on a 9th floor, and my building overlooks the residential part of the city, which only has small houses, so I have an enormous view of the sky (it actually is half of my window). Last night there was a huge storm going on up there, with the wind rattling my windows and throwing my flowerpots away, but there was no rain. What I did see, was the most impressing demostration of nature power, when thousands or electricity particles moved in the sky. Not only I saw what you see in the pictures above, the vertical rays hitting the ground, but there were rays doing semi-circles and going in crazy angles.

It made me feel a bunch of unexpected emotions: I was veery scared, I felt exposed because I've never been so near to the sky during a storm, I felt the need to go and hide, to protect myself under something like a cave, but I also felt fascination, wonder and amazement. I was captured instantly by it, I could not take my eyes off the sky. It was funny because my family was watching their stupid soap opera and I was literallly giving my back to them, watching outside, my eyes glued to the shining clouds, waiting for the next flow of rays. At one point my mother even said: "We're watching the TV and she's watching hers". I could not help it, not only I hate TV, but I was totally absorbed by the whole thing. It also made me feel very tiny, insignificant, and made me realise how big the sky really is.

It was an unbelievable and marvellous experience, I can't wait to see it again!

A police encounter

There was a post at The One Minute Writer about an encounter with a police officer that made me think a lot. Here is what I answered:

As soon as I saw today's prompt, I jumped to answer it, because whenever someone mentions the word 'police' to me, I instantly think about Garrido.
He was a police officer down in my village, and he was in charge of the busiest street, the one I walk through every day. He was a very cheerful man, saying hi to everyone and always smiling. He knew everyone there!
But one day, a couple was robbing a store, a Kevingston to be more specific, and he came to help, and was shot and instantly killed. This happened last February, and was a major piece of news, appearing in every news channel.
As justice is slower than anything in this country, the thieves are still waiting to be tried, and nothing has been done on the subject. If you looked at the floor of that main street, you saw, in huge white letters “Justice for Garrido or for his murderers?”
However, not everything is bad news, for he got a piece of love from all the grateful people he had helped: when you walk in those streets you see a black bow in every window, and there is a small monument at Kevingston's door. They even named that part of the street after him!
People were raising keys to build a real monument, because the government complained that copper was way too expensive... And that is just because there had been a misunderstanding between the government of the city and Garrido, because it was corrupt and he was not.
And that's what our government teaches us to do: not to appreciate people who sacrifice their lives to protect us.

I've just finished reading a post at http://fictiongroupie.blogspot.com/ , about the importance of the first lines of a book in order to get the potential reader/publisher/editor's attention.
The writer says that they are crucial, and gives examples of her own writing as to catching the reader's attention. If you wish to read more about it, go to the blog mentioned before and read the complete post.
In my arrogant opinion, [=)] first lines are important to get the reader involved, but they are not the main thing of the story. If they are re-written, they may lose part of their charm, which may lie on that first draft. So don't go crazy trying to think which sentences should somehow sum up the whole book, or at least mention very subtly what will happen at the end, after all, the best thing about writing is to see what becomes of your ideas when you start developing them!
She suggested that her followers should write the first lines they liked the most, the ones that had best caught their attentions immediately. Here are mine:

"It’s a funny thing about mothers and fathers. Even when their own child is the most disgusting little blister you could ever imagine, they still think that he or she is wonderful.
Some parents go further. They become so blinded by adoration they manage to convince themselves their child has qualities of genius.
Well, there is nothing very wrong with all this. It’s the way of the world. It is only when the parents begin telling u s about the brilliance of their own revolting offspring, that we start shouting, “Bring us a basin! We’re going to be sick!”" Matilda, Roald Dahl

Needless to say this got hold of my eyes immediately; I couldn't wait to see what was next. And Roald Dahl sorta mentions the main theme of the story, that being about Matilda's parent's hatred towards her. I just loved it! =)

"Whether I shall turn out to be the hero of my own life, or whether that station will be held by anybody else, these pages must show. To begin my life with the beginning of my life, I record that I was born (as I have been informed and believe) on a Friday, at twelve o'clock at night. It was remarked that the clock began to strike, and I began to cry, simultaneously.
In consideration of the day and hour of my birth, it was declared by the nurse, and by some sage women in the neighbourhood who had taken a lively interest in me several months before there was any possibility of our becoming personally acquainted, first, that I was destined to be unlucky in life; and secondly, that I was privileged to see ghosts and spirits; both these gifts inevitably attaching, as they believed, to all unlucky infants of either gender, born towards the small hours on a Friday night.
I need say nothing here, on the first head, because nothing can show better than my history whether that prediction was verified or falsified by the result. On the second branch of the question, I will only remark, that unless I ran through that part of my inheritance while I was still a baby, I have not come into it yet. But I do not at all complain of having been kept out of this property; and if anybody else should be in the present enjoyment of it, he is heartily welcome to keep it." David Copperfield, Charles Dickens

I only have to say that this first three paragraphs made me smile as no other book had ever made me smile, and I think that they hold the best summary of Dickens' magic, which we two love. It contains irony, witty comments, and also provides evidence of what will happen at the end... It is great.

"SQUIRE TRELAWNEY, Dr. Livesey, and the rest of these gentlemen having asked me to write down the whole particulars about Treasure Island, from the beginning to the end, keeping nothing back but the bearings of the island, and that only because there is still treasure not yet lifted, I take up my pen in the year of grace 17__ and go back to the time when my father kept the Admiral Benbow inn and the brown old seaman with the sabre cut first took up his lodging under our roof." Treasure Island, Robert Louis Stevenson.

This extract made me smile too. It is witty, intelligent and it gives subtle, and not so subtle, clues about what will happen. I particularly chose it because of its originality on introducing the story.

So what are your favourite first lines of books? Do you think they are so important?

Literary crush

Here is a cool blog I found: http://fictiongroupie.blogspot.com/
In one post, the writer asked for questions she could answer in her next post, and here is one of them, the one I liked the most. I thought I'd give it a try and answer it.

Your two biggest literary crushes show up on your doorstep ready to sweep you off your feet. Who do you go with and why?

Looking through my bookshelf, I went through the most important guys of my favourite books...
Some of them are: the perfect Edward Cullen, from Twilight, David Copperfield, from the book of the same name, Mr Darcy, from Pride and prejudice, and Farid, from Inkheart.
Edward Cullen is such a "cliched" character, the most perfect of perfection, that he turns boring. He doesn't have many evident bad qualities, everything about him is just great, so there is nothing to fight for, nothing to change, nothing to worry about... And although he is tempting, he is not very interesting, and too perfect to be true, that he lacks of realism.
David Copperfield is a character very well described throughout Dicken's story. We get to know him since the very moment he was born to the middle of his manhood, so we have a very full knowledge about his self. I would like to say I would go out with him, and I could fall in love with him, because I consider him to be intelligent, sensible and sympathetic, and a good man above all. I believe I could find him attractive, although he is not top of my list.
Mr Darcy is a hated character from the beginning of the novel, for Jane Austen makes the reader feel what Elizabeth feels about him right away. However, I do like him very much, he is the kind of person one would seldom quarrel with, he is quite chivalrous, but for sure, very tender and loving. I would fall in love with him as well, but I think I'd rather be his sister Georgiana than his wife.
Farid is a character you don't give anything for when he's first mentioned. He's just called 'a guy', and nothing more. Nevertheless, he's one of the most important characters of the book, even more of the book #2. He is a thin, arabig boy of about 15 who was a helper of the 40 thieves of the legendary tale. Therefore, he doesn't speak a word, and he is very shy. He is very simple, but I believe he is cunning, and very wise. I'd rather have him for a date than the others.

What do you think? What would you answer to the prompt question?

SCREAM!

Another prompt in TheOneMinuteWriter.

What makes you want to scream?





My mum when she questions EVERYTHING I say or do, or when she questions my friends, doesn't she know that they are untouchable?
My classmates, when they can't do a tidy essay and leave all the hard work to me.
My teachers, when they believe their subject is the only one we have.

Free

This is a prompt at TheOneMinuteWriter blog (http://www.oneminutewriter.blogspot.com/), which I thought was cool and led to interesting conclusions.



Type a four-letter F word (no, not that one!) and then see where that word takes you as you write for a minute.




Free

I would like to be free from my school responsabilities right now, I feel so stressed and tired... I would like to be on vacation already, but I still have 28 schooldays to go. School shouldn't be so tiring, students should enjoy it and it should be a part of their lives, not their lives themselves. But well, nothing is gonna chage that when classes finish, we feel free.

This is an answer on a post by A writer's voice, you should check out her blog, it's great!

Oh my God! Your post was so... I don't know... It left me speechless!

First of all, I'm sorry for your grandma, I know how it feels to lose someone so dearly loved.

Second, I have to congratulate you for what you did, because it was something I could never do.

You see, before my grandpa died, he spent almost a year in a very deplorable state, barely living. He was on bed, with a constant nurse by his side, imposibilited to breathe naturally, to eat, to moove, to see (he had a problem on his left eye), and, well, to live.

The first time I saw him in that state, I couldn't keep my tears from falling, though I knew I had to be strong, for his sake, for my mom's, for my grandma's... While I was there, holding his strong hand in mine, seeing his emaciated body, which used to be so strong, as healthy as a horse's... I had to bite my lip to stop the tears from falling, I knew crying in front of him was more than forbidden. But when I left that room and went to my grandparent's, which was occupied by my grandma alone those days, I burst into the most sorrowful and horrible tears. The worst thing is that I couldn't stop them anymore, I just cried and cried in front of my grandma, one of the people I needed to be strongest to. She couldn't help crying too, and there we stood, hugging each other, crying out hearts out. I think it was so hard for me because I was realising I was losing him, one of the dearest people in my life.

I guess that is why I wasn't shocked at all the day he passed away (last December 24th, at 2:30 on the evening, believe it or not), because he had already done so for me, the day he wasn't "alive", going from place to place, never sitting still, fixing this and that, swimming in the pool or going for a walk, always mooving. I had long ago realised he would die, and I had long ago said good bye to him, I guess, that day, when I first saw him in that state. Also, I was more happy than sad of his, er, departure, because I knew that all that suffering was over, that he and my family got to rest at last.

I tried to be strong on that ocassion, but I guess you were far much stronger than I was.

By the way, thank you very much for your prompt, it brought back recollections of one I love so tenderly, one I miss so much, and it made me think about that time, which I hadn't thought about for so long.

Another PPP Prompt: [ Write something with the phrase and the rain fell gently. ]

And the rain fell gently, washing away my astonishment. I had dumped other guys before, I had been dumped before, but Josh... How could this be actualy happening? I thought we had agreed to have a life full of each other, and now, what I've got, is this stupid rain, somehow, however, soothing. To think of him, of the time spent together, of the promises made, of the love shared... At least you weren't married, mom said. How could she be so insensible? I loved him! But Becky was right, somebody who said what he had said, and did what he had done isn't worthy of my love, neither he is of any other's love. But how could I convince myself of that? It is not easy to forget someone you are so deeply in love with all of a sudden, specially when they come with this out of the blue, when you least expect it. And now, all I've got, all I've got left, are these stupid tears, somehow soothing, mingling with the gentle tears of the sky.

Hey, new PPP promtp, as follows.

[ Write a story with this phrase:
Standing at the edge of the canal I was where I belonged... ]

...I could see that old building of mine, just like it had always been, a little dark but still wonderful. The square windows were just the same, they had always made me thought that there was somebody inside, expecting my arrival. This time, I knew aunt Sarah was in there, awaiting for the marvelous stories I had to tell her about the faraway land of Germany, of the secret island of Ireland. This time, I knew, aunt Sarah was going to tell me about all the good things that had happened during my trip, and all the not-so-good things that had happened, the ones I hadn't heard of in her letters.
But, one thing was sure, I was back home, the only place in the world I could call so, and was about to re-start my life there, as soon as I crossed that dear old threshold.