Tag: My Writing Process

The poetic genre I love

When earth shakes, do snakes escape from its mouth, while all roots unroot from the soil? — how can I, the author of this sentence, be surprised by what I’ve written on my own… is it my natural ability to observe from another’s perception that brings me to that conclusion, or perhaps, let us be a little insane, odd, and whimsical, and let us say that it was a presence, the muse, that murmured it to my right ear.

A crack, an opening, the underground, catacombs — yes, I write semi-automatically, plunged emotionally inside the subconscious lagoon of my core. My poems are literal, where I let whatever wants to sprout out be — I just kind of express myself unconsciously. The moment I have a subject in mind — no matter what the subject might be, I go for it; I let my creativity take full possession of my being.

Should I say that I write while accessing my Random Access Memory, I don’t know! But what I do know on the other hand, is that when I write a poem, I completely abandon myself to my needs for art, and where the finished product needs to trigger the emotion of astonishment and puzzlement inside of me, like, is it really me that has written that oddity! Else, everything needs to be rewritten, for I am unsatisfied. I like to be the reader behind the eyes that has written the work, same as I would have read any other writings. I am out of my mind when I write, but back into the shell when drafting.

The seascape joins the shorelines, giving birth to an oneiric landscape – Literal, figurative, metaphorical — these are the main adjectives that I want my creative works to be described as, and where I try my best to construct my texts in the best possible way as I want them to be, and as well as I like them, always remembering the feelings felt when reading works written by other authors, whether good or bad.

When I write poems, I want the world to flow through me, for the world is a mystery, an everfloating debris of emotions. Thus, I want to write poems about everything that the world holds, wanting to be the medium through which the hatred, violence, love, romance, death, happiness, sadness, and all these emotions that have been given away to life (entity to me) incarnate themselves through the poetry I write.

Yesterday my husband and I we were discussing about a peculiar movie we like, and where both of us had different thoughts concerning the enigmatic ending of the movie, which I do think was a literal and poetic ending, opened to every kind of interpretation, the beauty of creative work. That’s when I realized that my poems too, or any other poems, could also be interpreted differently by the various type of readers, because precisely I write poems figuratively. But that’s my playground of interest — the metaphors, the flowery, the fanciful, the surreal, that’s how I fell in love with poetry, always, and that’s the degree of aesthetic that I thrive to ornate my poems with, so that readers that are fond of that genre of poetry might gain the ultimate satisfaction — at least I try to.

Being what I am, I am unable to write essays or any other serious subjects passionately, without getting bored… too detailed and prosaic for me, and where I have enormous respect for those that write these kind of intellectual articles meant for informational and educational purposes… not meant to tickle the fancy of readers, but where I would have been more than happy to have my poems being deconstructed by one of those literary critics, those thirsty for the psychology and logic behind literature. What would be the finds, the adjective of qualifications to describe what and how I write — dark, depressive, illogical, confusing, or else, I don’t know; puzzling and mystical, that’s what I would though.

Else, would I be criticized for appropriating the experience and life of others — a life snatcher, when all I ever do is trying to write with these emotions, calling them from the depth of my subconscious, drawing the ideas and inspiration from the well of my mind, and interconnecting and intertwining my own experience to that of the collective consciousness, the web of life.

Do my poems echo back emotions, the creation that’s voiceless, yet veiled with imagination? Are they movie projectors where the films display bits and pieces of what my imagination holds, though literal and surreal? Or, are the poems I write same as in dissection of a poem, a poem where elements of my own experiences sneak silently within the construction of the poetry I write. In the end, I just hope, and do my best, so that these poems I write are as literal, metaphorical, and as aesthetically pleasing to the reader’s mind, same as much as I have been conquered by this poetic genre.

That’s why I don’t abandon

Darcocyte would have been an aborted project if I had abandoned its conception. But that is where my strange anthropomorphic habits tend to save the day — looking at it as something tangible and true, one that belongs to the realm of existence — I couldn’t fail to write it. My personal interaction with objects, I think so, tend to nullify any kind of want or need to abandon that which comes from the deepness of my own core. I know that looking at things in such odd ways might not seem obvious to some — but what is obvious to the creative writer or to any other artists? I do wonder.

I tend to address a finished product of mine as my baby because I’ve conceived it from the bottom pit of my own imagination. Now, I don’t know about the other writers, but the very fact that the essence of the stories and poems that I write are born from my own imagination, make me seriously think that these are extended members that sprouted out from my own self; the invisible roots that reach out to the world, and where in my mind – again here it’s my personal way of thinking – I can’t abandon something that’s integral of my being.

I have always been the type of person who pays particular attention to my relatives – it is innate in me – and I really don’t know if it’s that particular side of me that renders me so passionately attached to what I produce as an individual, but it works all the time. And that’s what happened with Darcocyte, I just couldn’t let it down when it’s an integral part of me…

Passion is, and will always be to me, that one emotion which permits the artist to go through their work with serenity and enjoyment, and this, without any kind of reward or encouragement. It’s the passion to make my imagination concrete that fuels my determination of the before publishing level, and where after that stage, well, that’s clearly another story. But as for that part of concretizing ideas and thoughts into stories, poems, or blog posts, I am way too passionately driven to abandon their realization; too attached to these extensions of my imagination and personal experiences.

Perhaps what I might be writing here might make me seem like an arrogant; but I am so passionate about what I write that I find my own stories as being flawless🤭😅 and where I’ve even prepared a long list of answers to defend my baby novel against the worst critics, because I understand that reading exotic English writings are not the cup of tea of every readers.

Thus, to me, being passionately attached to my artwork helps me to continue hoping that one day I will be able to make money from my writings.

And what about you? Is it a passionate thing between you and your writing. Are you a passionate creative writer?

From then till now

Not all those who wander are lost;
— Tolkien

• It all started on Pinterest. Yes . . . Six or seven years ago I was introduced to this platform by Xu_Ann_the_3rd, my lil’ sister; and since then, I’ve been contaminated with the virus of creativity, DIY, and everything aesthetic. All of these creative feeds, sites, and as well as their users, inspired me till the inner core of my being to dare and be. Back then, I was pinning everyday and all day, busy checking all the boards of these interesting personas who inspired me so much. In the end, I had finally been able to find those, whose minds talk same as mine.
• Because during this period of my life, I didn’t know what I wanted to embrace as new career, I was often on other digital platforms, experiencing with chatting or any other forms of online activities that would have led me towards a stay@home job.
• Meanwhile, I opened an account on a writing app (which I don’t remember the name), and from there, I started to write short stories, amongst which the story of a cockroach in love with a girl rekindled my imagination that I thought I had long lost.
• Then came the WordPress.com chapter, there where I created my first blog, lovelyricism. On this platform, I was able to hone my skills through writing and submitting to their everyday writing prompts page; swimming towards progress into their lagoon of precious tips, amidst a community of talented writers and bloggers. And that’s where, during that same period of writing everyday, that the first sentence idea for Darcocyte appeared in my mind — “Don’t go ploughing the infertile land my little girl, the man in the vessel will try to lure you…”
• I started to write on microsoft word (software key that was included with the buying of my first laptop), alongside other little drafts and scribblings done here and there — all lost during a malware infection that wormed its way inside of my former laptop, rendering it completely obsolete. Fortunately I had the daily habit of saving Darcocyte on a USB key. Since then, I fell inside the dark pit of paranoia, suspecting almost everyone to be scammers and malevolent hackers. I should have stopped right there, but there was something screaming out in me to continue my way, for in the end, everything would be alright.
• I changed writing software, and went this time with Google Doc, thing that I don’t regret the least, for its ease of use and understanding. Briefly speaking, I embraced the Google ecosystem for its core functionality and integrality.
• I erased all of my former accounts (Christa Chn), to start anew with a new pen name (Eaki).
• I created my second blog on blogger under the pen name, Ea-ki; but with hindsight I realised that it was a difficult name to pronounce, thus decided to go for an anagram of my real name, which formed Eiravel Mist.
• As the story took the shape of the science-fiction genre, the more I needed to research online about the nature of some things, and as well as the mechanics of others, trying to make my story as interesting as possible for the curious reader. Metaphysics, parapsychology, pseudoscience, gene editing, telepathy, aliens, strange science, quantum, everything deemed paranormal and surreal were read and scrutinised meticulously, as to be implemented in the story.
• While I was at the phase of my last rewrites, I started to think and read about the most favorable channels where I would be able to publish, market, or even find a legit publishing house or editor for my book//e-book. To me, the process of getting a book out there was the most difficult part for me, much more difficult than that of writing Darcocyte. That’s where I understood that the internet has shitloads of problems, truffled inside of an illusionarium (yep, it serves to write in metaphors).
• Meanwhile I continued learning some internet basics and their components, all the while doing social media, blogging, practicing other types of writing, wrote a French story for a contest (No, I didn’t win), wrote a poem for a national contest (No, I did not submit, for fear and doubts had been gnawing my mind then).
• Writing, writing, writing. Practice, practice, practice. Reading, reading, reading. Rewrites, rewrites, rewrites. Edit, edit, edit.
• Then it happened, after four and a half years, Darcocyte was enough elegant and aesthetic to my eyes as for me to publish it. Too hasty to show it to the world, and too tired to search for more, on impulsivity, and without thinking further, I self-published on a platform that doesn’t even make payment directly to my bank account, and where I have settle only for crumbs — I’ve settled for less (And these are the two main things that are actually stressing me, and where I need to calm down so that I might consider things under another light).
• Now I am waiting, observing, and trying to calm down my impatience, hoping that I have well interpreted the signs.
• But life needs to go on, doesn’t it? I should not forget that I have a poetry book to edit, and other short stories ready for publishing. This time, I won’t settle for less… TO BE CONTINUED.

When I started my writing adventure, I was filled with fears and doubts, knowingly that I was not skilled into the craft of writing itself, but still, I set myself to write something everyday, and this, even though if it was a sentence or two. At the beginning, and most of the time, no creative ideas poured into my mind, and I would go on scribble nonsense, but still, I did the work and typed my way through the struggle of beautifying my sentences. These first drafts of mine are total craps and practically unintelligible to the common of mortals, but yet, my passion for writing devours the whole negative mindset, and as well as the fear of typing words on my screen.

“If you want to be a writer, you must do two things above all others: read a lot and write a lot. There’s no way around these two things that I’m aware of, no shortcut.” – Stephen King – (author of many books, amongst which ‘Misery’, ‘Pet sematary’, ‘The Shining’)

Stephen King knows well the prime rules of the becoming of a writer, for I have personally experienced the fact that my writing skills – in every step of the way – developed through either reading (whether fiction or non-fiction), and as well as through the act of writing everyday, even if it goes along through noting down silly things. Thing is, if you want to, or is in need of developing your own style of writing, you will have to write a lot until your mind impregnates itself of the flow of style of your own personality. And you need to read a lot, so that you might learn and assimilate the contextual relationship, that will enable you, to come up on your own with the best composition that fits how you go on framing your own contexts.

“This is how you do it: you sit down at the keyboard and you put one word after another until it’s done. It’s that easy, and that hard.” -Neil Gaiman- (author of many books, amongst which ‘Coraline’, ‘Stardust’)

One word after another, it’s that easy and that hard, let me tell you why — as for me to sit down and type turtleishly those words, isn’t that hard, for me it is the part of describing the images in my head that seems arduous. I want the flow of those descriptive words and sentences to be as perfect as I imagine them to be. As I come from a multilingual country, where we alternate the way we talk, read, and listen everyday (alternate French, English, and Creole), it has, and it is still difficult for me to structure the type of context that I want to convey to high-standard readers. I slug very much along the way, but when I finish writing a sentence, my passion and pride is such, that all I wanna do is continue throughout the work.

“Start writing no matter what. The water does not flow until the faucet is turned on.” -Louis l’amour- (author of many books, amongst which ‘Bowdrie’, ‘Lonely On The Mountain’)

Even one word typed on screen while you sit into calm space can ignite the flow of ideas of your imagination. No matter what, just start writing and the rest shall follow — that is what happens to me all the time, and in the end, passion wins it all.

 
“I started writing to please myself, a story I would like to read, and that is still true.” -Jean M.Auel- (author of many books, amongst which ‘The Clan Of The Cave Bear’ (my favourite book of all time), ‘The Plains Of Passage’)

Truth, there is nothing more pleasing to me than to sit down and type the story I want — like some sort of deliverance.

“Very few writers know what they are doing until they’ve done it.” -Anne Lamott- (author of many books, amongst which ‘Bird by Bird’)

I never really knew what I was doing, it only started with an inspiring spark to type the sentences I wanted to – and it flows like that… until finality.

“If you wish to be a writer, write.” -Epictetus- (Greek Stoic Philosopher, author of many wise sayings, amongst which ‘First say to yourself what you would be; and then do what you have to do.’)

I do think that the moment there is proof that you are writing… then you are already a writer. End of story.

“A non-writing writer is a monster courting insanity.” -Franz Kafka- (author of many books, amongst which ‘The Metamorphosis’, ‘The Castle’)

It happened that I stopped writing for some time, for I had lost all motivation for the craft. But after that the spark of my inspiration ignited again, I had great difficulty upon writing — as if my brain had rusted during these moments of pause.

“Finish your novel, because you learn more that way than any other.” -James Scott bell- (author of ‘The art of war for writers’)

“It is by forging that one becomes a blacksmith”. “It is by sailing that one becomes a sailor”. “It is by cooking that one becomes a cook.” “It is by writing that one becomes a writer.” “Practice makes perfect.” – And these are the motto I believe in. So without a doubt, I knew that if I dedicated myself to the craft of writing, I would be able to do it. I spent practically 5 years writing my book, where I dedicated myself almost everyday at the practice of polishing both my grammar and writing style, all the while learning to use the writing software I write with, and keep close eye on the maintenance of my computer (which is my writing tool), and in the end, writing my book through a computer has been the most stressing, dramatic, and alienated thing that I’ve done within my whole life, yet, the more I practice what I have come to understand, the more it became a little bit more easier for me in every step of the way.

 
“Anything’s possible if you’ve got enough nerve.” -J.k. Rowling- (author of the famous ‘Harry Potter Book Series)

Enough nerve, sprinkled with some rage, and loads of self-determination. I can’t say for now (as I am writing this post) what would become of my writing career after I have finished polishing my book, am I aiming too high!… I don’t know! But for now, I am positively assured that I am on the right track, I just got to thrive on these nerves until I see the end of it.

“Not all those who wander are lost.” -J.R.R. Tolkien- (author of the famous book series ‘Lord Of The Ring)

I am not lost, not after having learned and put everything into practice, on the contrary, I am wandering further and loving every streak of it.

“The first draft is just you telling yourself the story.” -Terry Pratchett- (author of many books, amongst which ‘Good Omens’, ‘Night Watch’)

That first draft of yours will be horrible, mine was so horrid that at some stage of drafting I completely lost faith in what I was doing. I did not understood why what I wrote seemed so ambiguous, and not the same as all the great books that I read. And it’s only afterwards that I came to understand that what I was writing was only some kind of a rough summary of my stories, and that it was only through the endless rewrites that the stories I wrote really took shape.

“Write a little bit everyday, without hope, without despair.” -Isak Dinesen(Karen Blixen)- (author of many books, amongst which ‘Out Of Africa’, ‘Seven Gothic Tales’)

A little bit of writing everyday can lead to a book. A little bit of writing everyday can lead to a blog filled of contents that you are proud of – all I do is just write with great pleasure.

“By the time I am nearing the end of a story, the first part will have been reread and altered and corrected at least one hundred and fifty times. I am suspicious of both facility and speed. Good writing is essentially rewriting. I am positive of this.” -Roald Dahl- (author of many books, amongst which ‘Mathilda’, ‘Charlie & The Chocolate Factory’)

If a great author like Roald Dahl said so, now imagine what a first time wanna be author like me might be going through during the phases of rereading and rewriting. However, passion is everything, and my love for writing my book, blogging about what I do or what I love, or even writing poetry, are stronger than all of my impatience.