Categories
Narrative Essays

Bits of thoughts from a shattered heart

A river stream

It’s patience; my impatience

A river runs deep inside of me. And it takes its source from the mountain of my mind. It slowly flows, streams patiently, and on its way, it engulfs some water creatures, some aquatic plants, and loads of pebbles and soil, and this, all the while I sit on its bank, dreamily looking towards the vast sea.

It’s patience; my impatience. And yet, the river it tells me that we are one; that its course is my course, and that all of these creatures also swim within me.

But I couldn’t wait. I wanted to speed towards the vast ocean, to meet all of its creatures, and swim freely within its large mouth β€” when the river in me, had not even met the other tributaries.

Thus I’ve taken Darcocyte out of my riverbed, there where it was still learning to swim, and rushed till the ocean. And there I drowned. But the river and I are one β€” same course, same pace, same path . . . but I was too impatient, too impertinent, a foolish head.

***

There is no bright star that lives in the space of my head, granting me wishes

The other day I was brought back to the reality of things, when I realized with sheer horror that Darcocyte is filled with grammatical errors and bad syntaxes.

There is no unicorn. There is no magical fairy or lamp, no fairy dust or magical wand, no wishing well, no good fortune, no celestial guides, faith don’t move mountains; the internet is not the vast ocean, it is simply a lagoon; there is no bright star that lives in the space of my head, granting me wishes; life is real, it is not surreal. There is only patience, diligence, hard work, logic, perseverance, the reality and knowledge of things, and in-depth analysis. The rest, only fiction, thing, that I need to wrap my mind around more often.

***

I didn’t know what to do. I panicked when I realized that I had written a first book that’s filled with mistakes, thus I’ve unpublished Darcocyte.

I’ve been reading Darcocyte again with new eyes, and this, after one whole year. And my heart couldn’t take it. I am stressing all over it. I have lost my writing rhythm; I have been thinking too much. My train has derailed from its track; I am staggering. From a streaming river, I returned back to a stagnant state.

Yet, most of the great writers said that the writer should forget their manuscript for some months, as to be able to re-read it with fresh new eyes, and thus be able to discern their mistakes, and self-edit more easily. And now I can confirm that it is the truth; but came to that truth a little bit too late.

I didn’t know what to do. I panicked when I realized that I had written a first book that’s filled with mistakes, thus I’ve unpublished Darcocyte. I am to blame for not having changed my baby’s diapers and gave it a bath for all of these monthsπŸ˜……

Trial and errors, and now I am going through a nightmare, a nightmare on editing street; a bad dream that came true.

***

I have finished my book of poems, and yet, I still have no clue about what to do next

I have finished my book of poems, and yet, I still have no clue about what to do next. I am filled with so much doubts now; and I have nothing to hang myself to. I’ve lost my way in a maze filled with traps. I don’t even know how to write . . . see, this is all crap, just like a robot would write. Me and my mind, we are unable to create properly, I am thinking too negatively.

It has never been exotic English. Some part of it was none-sense, ugly, bad litterature. I have failed right away as an indie-author. Yet I never had bad intentions. I wanted to embrace the e-bohemian culture, the DIY culture. For it was there that we are going, isn’t it? No. It can’t be 2020.

I wanted to do it for the others out there. For those that want to write or blog, to create, but who don’t know how, where, and with what to start. But I wanted it to be the truth of my individual experience. I wanted to be that light, even as tiny as it may seem, in this vast darkness. Just because I can do it. Just because I have the necessary determination and thickness of skin. I wanted to do it for you, for you to know the different ways you can take as to arrive at your destination β€” though without a dim, though without the necessary talent, and the education needed. It’s not for everyone, but for a handful of bold people, of that I can attest.

I’ve hurt myself against many interesting online services that are not available for most underdeveloped or developing countries. Services where independents and freelancers can dwell and tap into, as to free themselves from this birdcage. And most online articles are about those online services that are not available for us here. That really was my mission, to collect my own writing experience data and archive it on the world wide web database.

***

Could a book have a will of its own? When it is not ready, it is not ready

Have to say that everything pointed elsewhere. But this stubbornness of mine, this stupidity of mine, this impatience of mine. First of all I hurt myself against a method of payment that was not available for my country (first locked door), then the pricing formulation was too complicate and obscure for me to understand (second locked door), then I was overwhelmed with all of these frustrations. Things were not working smoothly, I was not seeing clearly. Thus, could it be that a book has a will of its own? When it is not ready, it is not ready. Have I not again listened to my intuitions? I guess so, for everything points to the mistakes I’ve made due to my impatience.

As I am writing this blog post, I don’t know anymore what to do. This whole thing is stressing me β€” and I hate stressful situations. I hate it when I am stuck like that. I hate it that things are not turning out like I wished them to be. I get mad like a child that throws a tantrum when I don’t get what I wantπŸ˜‚ especially when I’ve worked hard for that something.

I still don’t know what I had in my head when I started it all out, but surely I always had good intentions.

I want to believe again, to be again, to try again

What is perfection without our own personality attach to it? Without our own magic. I have my own style of writing, not to the taste of everyone, not, for anyone β€” a little bit decadent, a little bit odd and surreal, perhaps incomprehensible to many readers, but always with parts of myself. I am not a book thief, everything that I’ve written has been meticulously researched online. Perhaps my texts, even my whole ideas have been mined and sold, but I will always remain the author, it’s already in the memory of the universe, in the memory of water. I am not blind, remember, I make one with the river, a river that sees clearly.

I want to believe again, to be again, and to try again. To attest of my online writing experiences. To believe again that there is a bright star that lives in the space of my mind, granting me wishes.

Thus talked the river in me:- slowly but surely; with patience and perseverence, you’ll stream till the vast sea, and there, you’ll meet the hermits and all the crustaceans; the starfish, the giant squid, the great shark, the enormous beluga, the five hundred thousand years old giant turtle, and all of the water creatures that live in the deep sea. And as for your desperation, I am water, and water cleanse and wipe out everything, from bad memories to what aches. I am water, and you are me.

Categories
Narrative Essays

Darcocyte Has Been Published

Darcocyte book cover

“I’ve walked many miles as to find myself and finally be, crossed trillions of stars and experienced more than one existence as to finally learn, shed more than one tears and broke my heart more than once as to finally understand . . . that infinity and everything that is, simply stream through a pool of genes . . .”

This is the story of Eon Spencer β€” a normal Eaarthling who overnight learns from her dying grandmother that she descends from extraterrestrials that exiled on Eaarth to save their race from extinction. Her normal way of living is shattered and changed forever as violent deaths, heartbreaking revelations, and treason of the worst kind, blend within chapters of a melting love story, an unmatched friendship, strange and new encounters, odd discoveries, and rocambolesque surreal adventures.

Here we are, after four and a half years of researching, writing, honing skills, crying, alienation, and dramas of all types and sorts, where I’ve finally been able to self-publish Darcocyte.

I haven’t thought twice before making the ultimate decision of sending my metaphysical science-fiction novel of 71,000 words on Amazon’s shelves; because you see, after having written a whole novel, I am tired and too lazy to think properly about the whole aftermath of its life cycle into the world. And though I want what’s best for my baby novel, I am unable to think properly about the marketing strategies that would settle it high up in the sky with a crown and a throne, just like J.K.Rowling did for her captivating book.

I just needed to publish it now, because it was the right time, and that it needed to have a life of its own. Right now, all I wanna do is write, or create other things that pleases me as much as the writing process of Darcocyte.

My plan from the beginning was to finish the novel, and then publish it somewhere where I wouldn’t have to waste my energy publicize and all the rest, as to be able to do the next things on my list. And that’s why I’ve decided to test the waters of Amazon . . . after all, that’s where most readers flock to search for books . . . isn’t it!

Also I loved that the uploads of my manuscript went all very well, and that the procedures to do so were easily chunk down for non-tech-savvies to go through their procedures without a single stress. I can say that they are clearly the professional type, although that’s all very expensive in terms of Mauritian currency… loll.

But as I always say and think about β€” if I don’t try, how will I know. So, let’s try and see what adcomes of this whole new chapter of my new career as an independent author.

Right now Darcocyte is available on Kindle (you can download the kindle app and buy it from there), Kindle unlimited, and as well as in print.
I hope that you never abandon, I hope that you give everything you have to realize your dream, and that in the process of believing in yourself and the things you do, the universe unlock all of your potentials, and doors that might help you accomplish your dreams and goals.
Categories
Narrative Essays

What Pushed Me To Write My First Book

ScreenshotofDarcocyte.png
Yep, of course it exists 😝


Have you ever felt attracted by something, to the point of practically seeing patterns of it into almost every concrete things that surround you . . . but still, you fight with your natural instincts at the expense of what you learnt, screaming out to yourself that it seems too difficult to achieve . . . well, this is the kind of scenario that is typical to my life.
“The signs were too crazily aligned, for me not to take the chance of trying to write the book I had so much dreamt of.”

When I used to be a bookworm β€” back in the days when I had plenty of time to do whatever I wanted β€”, or even when I marveled in front of those attractive books exposed on the shelves of libraries; I always dreamt wide-eyed opened to write a book on my own one day. However, I had no strong determination back in the days, and even though I wrote poems, and scribbled everyday into a diary, I thought that I would never be able to do such a thing as writing fiction (have to say that my admiration for writers stems from the root thought that they are profoundly wise, talented, and passionately in love with writing). Now I know that during the act of writing, some words deemed as inspirational flows naturally into the world. Also, there are no magic tricks, and it is only through practice, persistence, self-determination, and being auto-critical of your own work, that you become skillful in your craft β€” and that it is only when you have transcended your thoughts of incapacity, that writing really becomes your passion. Then years go by, and with it, some dreams get buried under piles of living a life of futility, but still, the patterns . . . they persisted, and very often, I randomly fell on ads asking for submissions of manuscripts by whether experienced or amateur writers, where I went on only cutting the needed part of the newspaper, which I soon forgot about, simply thinking that I was inapt to write, or worst, I was way too busy living a futile lifestyle.

Then one day, I was introduced to a computer device that hosts blog sites, writing software, while also being implemented with all the information and materials that I needed to start my writing journey β€” and guess what, though I had not connected the dots right then, I had at least started to be inspired by those e-writers that write poems, short stories, and blog. I was like an enthusiastic child, curious and awed at all these perspectives at hand. For me then, anything was possible (at least, that was what I thought at the very start . . . how gullible of me). Afterwards, for the fun of it, I created an account on a writing site, and started writing a short story about the innocent love of a cockroach for a girl, and the more I wrote, the more I knew that I could write stories, all the while realizing: “it’s now or never to write my book.”

The signs were too crazily aligned for me not to take the chance of trying to write the book I had so much dreamt of. Thus, after the chaos, the tears, the misunderstandings, the doubts, the swearing, the tiredness, my paranoiac crisis, the sufferings, but also little by little, I finally led my way through the building up of the chapters that make my book β€” where right now, I am going through edits, and with high hopes that I will be gifting to myself this book that I have been writing through good and bad times. I devoted practically four years to the completion of this science-fiction book, and now that I am at the polishing phase, I can say that I am proud of myself, to have half-accomplished my dream through self-determination.

So, I want to seize this opportunity to thank all the people that have created all of these easy- for-access software, and everyone else whose arts have inspired me, without forgetting those who have written informational articles about writing, and also, credit to these handful good intentional people of the web-space.

I do hope that your dreams come true, and don’t be shy to comment below about what pushed/is pushing you to write your first book.

-Eiravel-