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book/content/writing/writing.tex
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@ -1,4 +1,4 @@
Today, my therapist asked what the plot was to this new writing project.
\noindent Today, my therapist asked what the plot was to this new writing project.
\begin{ally}
Me!
@ -64,9 +64,10 @@ Writing, composing, programming, those are all inexact tools to apply toward ine
\begin{ally}
No, but it \textbf{is} important that you be cognizant of that fact.
\end{ally}\newpage
\end{ally}
\newpage
All of writing, all of creativity is selfish. To take some idea or some concept and to set it down on paper and say, ``I made this'' is selfish, of course, but to then take that thing and show it to others with the expectation that they might get something out of it as well is taking that several steps further.
\noindent All of writing, all of creativity is selfish. To take some idea or some concept and to set it down on paper and say, ``I made this'' is selfish, of course, but to then take that thing and show it to others with the expectation that they might get something out of it as well is taking that several steps further.
To sit down in front of the keyboard and to say, ``I am going to write a story about a person who runs away from home to escape her fundamentally unhappy life'' and to then take that story, post it on the internet, submit it to anthologies, publish it in a collection and attempt to get others to read it, is selfish. It's an act of improvement for the writer, sometimes on a very real basis, if there is money to be made in the process.
@ -110,7 +111,7 @@ Of course. Are you really in danger of such?
Constantly, feels like.
\newpage
The first poetry I remember writing was back before high school. At some point I picked up the poetry bug and decided I was going to try my hand at it. Finding it hard, I quit after the first poem I wrote. It was something really, \emph{really} bad, too. Something where all I knew about poetry was that it should rhyme, so I sacrificed\ldots{}well, everything in search of a rhyme. Readability. Sense. It was horrifying.
\noindent The first poetry I remember writing was back before high school. At some point I picked up the poetry bug and decided I was going to try my hand at it. Finding it hard, I quit after the first poem I wrote. It was something really, \emph{really} bad, too. Something where all I knew about poetry was that it should rhyme, so I sacrificed\ldots{}well, everything in search of a rhyme. Readability. Sense. It was horrifying.
\begin{ally}
You find a lot of your old stuff horrifying. Play can be creative.
@ -152,54 +153,126 @@ Gah, yeah. I was a kid, alright?
\begin{ally}
If you say so.
\end{ally}
September 26, 2003:
\end{leftcolumn}
\begin{rightcolumn*}
\emph{September 26, 2003}
\end{rightcolumn*}
\begin{leftcolumn}
\textbf{I.}
\begin{verse}
Borne through air,\\
\vin Close my eyes.\\
Wind ruffles hair\\
\vin Soul sighs,\\
\vin Heart flies;\\
I’m the wind.
\begin{enumerate}
\def\labelenumi{\Roman{enumi}.}
\tightlist
\item
Borne through air, Close my eyes. Wind ruffles hair Soul sighs, Heart flies; I'm the wind.
\end{enumerate}
I flow east:\\
\vin Over the plains,\\
Over land creased.\\
\vin Current refrains,\\
\vin Cloud stains\\
As I build.
I flow east: Over the plains, Over land creased. Current refrains, Cloud stains As I build.
Trees bow at my\\
\vin \vin Will\\
To move drives me\\
\vin \vin Onward\\
I push through\\
\vin \vin Mountains\\
Do nothing but\\
\vin \vin Divert\\
The rain as I\\
\vin \vin Flow.\\
\end{verse}
\newpage
Trees bow at my Will To move drives me Onward I push through Mountains Do nothing but Divert The rain as I Flow.
\textbf{II.}
\begin{verse}
Borne through air ---\\
\vin Rise up high ---\\
Driven there,\\
\vin Earth nigh,\\
\vin I sigh;\\
I'm the wind.
\begin{enumerate}
\def\labelenumi{\Roman{enumi}.}
\setcounter{enumi}{1}
\tightlist
\item
Borne through air - Rise up high - Driven there, Earth nigh, I sigh; I'm the wind.
\end{enumerate}
I flow west:\\
\vin Past the lakes,\\
Water my guest;\\
\vin Thunder makes\\
\vin Noise, wakes,\\
As I storm.
I flow west: Past the lakes, Water my guest; Thunder makes Noise, wakes, As I storm.
Sand flies at my\\
\vin \vin Force\\
Builds as I\\
\vin \vin Push\\
Across the\\
\vin \vin Land\\
Flows beneath my\\
\vin \vin Self\\
Means nothing to\\
\vin \vin Wind.
\end{verse}
\newpage
Sand flies at my Force Builds as I Push Across the Land Flows beneath my Self Means nothing to Wind.
\textbf{III.}
\begin{verse}
Borne through air,\\
\vin Through the night\\
And dawn fair.\\
\vin No fight,\\
\vin Only flight;\\
I'm the wind.
\begin{enumerate}
\def\labelenumi{\Roman{enumi}.}
\setcounter{enumi}{2}
\tightlist
\item
Borne through air, Through the night And dawn fair. No fight, Only flight; I'm the wind.
\end{enumerate}
I flow south\\
\vin On the ocean,\\
On delta's mouth\\
\vin My motion\\
\vin Just notion\\
As I breathe.
I flow south On the ocean, On delta's mouth My motion Just notion As I breathe.
Waves break as I\\
\vin \vin Drive\\
Past the thin\\
\vin \vin Sands\\
Lift themselves to my\\
\vin \vin Body\\
Waxes as I\\
\vin \vin Press\\
Through the stillness of\\
\vin \vin Night.
\end{verse}
\newpage
Waves break as I Drive Past the thin Sands Lift themselves to my Body Waxes as I Press Through the stillness of Night.
\textbf{IV.}
\begin{verse}
Borne through air,\\
\vin Around the world\\
And forests I tear;\\
\vin Ferns furled,\\
\vin Trees burled;\\
I am the wind.
\begin{enumerate}
\def\labelenumi{\Roman{enumi}.}
\setcounter{enumi}{3}
\tightlist
\item
Borne through air, Around the world And forests I tear; Ferns furled, Trees burled; I am the wind.
\end{enumerate}
I flow north,\\
\vin Across the ice;\\
I roll forth\\
\vin Past spice ---\\
\vin So nice ---\\
As I change.
I flow north, Across the ice; I roll forth Past spice -- So nice -- As I change.
Men bask as I Warm Drops of rain Fall Colored leaves Shiver Because of the Chill Wind blows on Past.
Men bask as I\\
\vin \vin Warm\\
Drops of rain\\
\vin \vin Fall\\
Colored leaves\\
\vin \vin Shiver\\
Because of the\\
\vin \vin Chill\\
Wind blows on\\
\vin \vin Past.
\end{verse}
\newpage
\begin{ally}
It's not without its own sense of charm.
@ -220,26 +293,120 @@ The more I think of it, the more I think it's that they're just too\ldots{}work.
Wrong answer.
\end{ally}
Tell me about it.
\newpage
January 11, 2003:
What hath man wrought! When faced with the question of love Or seeking peace with the answer thereof, Or faced with life peril-fraught, Created a god, or several, to satisfy Some need to fulfill or deny A lacking - A slacking On someone else's behalf, Or his own behalf - And on the world a question of faith brought.
\emph{January 11, 2003}
And when a man, endowed With the ability to make his own God, Does so with nary a nod, And finds the god shan't be cowed, What does he then? And when a group of men Make their God With nary a nod, And cow him easily, rightly To them, and find him tightly bound, what then, with a god bowed?
\begin{verse}
What hath man wrought!\\
\vin When faced with the question of love\\
\vin Or seeking peace with the answer thereof,\\
Or faced with life peril-fraught,\\
\vin Created a god, or several, to satisfy\\
\vin Some need to fulfill or deny\\
\vin \vin A lacking ---\\
\vin \vin A slacking\\
\vin On someone else's behalf,\\
\vin Or his own behalf ---\\
And on the world a question of faith brought.
What then, indeed, should a God, Now lesser than his creators, do When his creators move to gods new? Is he then still a God? Or is that when God dies, Not bloated with swarms of flies, But forgotten? Not rotten, Forgotten and immortal, what then? Does he hope to come again, Rising a second time, perhaps again to be God?
And when a man, endowed\\
\vin With the ability to make his own God,\\
\vin Does so with nary a nod,\\
And finds the god shan't be cowed,\\
\vin What does he then?\\
\vin And when a group of men\\
\vin \vin Make their God\\
\vin \vin With nary a nod,\\
\vin And cow him easily, rightly\\
\vin To them, and find him tightly\\
bound, what then, with a god bowed?
One would hope that the God, being omniscient Would realize he was no longer, otherwise Might he become destructive? Likewise, A god, waiting patient Could become restless, Try to leave his creators breathless, Again, But then, Be pronounced a heretic By all but the hermetic And others of the new God ignorant.
What then, indeed, should a God,\\
\vin Now lesser than his creators, do\\
\vin When his creators move to gods new?\\
Is he then still a God?\\
\vin Or is that when God dies,\\
\vin Not bloated with swarms of flies,\\
\vin \vin But forgotten?\\
\vin \vin Not rotten,\\
\vin Forgotten and immortal, what then?\\
\vin Does he hope to come again,\\
Rising a second time, perhaps again to be God?
So hence a people divided Those of Whispers and those of Nanon, Fight to the tooth and fight to the bone, Until over Whispers Nanon presided; And when those of Nanon took Speech from the Whispers so as to look And not hear, They here Those of Whispers with Supposed powers of myth Of creation with speech's remnants provided.
One would hope that the God, being omniscient\\
\vin Would realize he was no longer, otherwise\\
\vin Might he become destructive? Likewise,\\
A god, waiting patient\\
\vin Could become restless,\\
\vin Try to leave his creators breathless,\\
\vin \vin Again,\\
\vin \vin But then,\\
\vin Be pronounced a heretic\\
\vin By all but the hermetic\\
And others of the new God ignorant.
So it was before the fall of Whispers that Faith of most all lay in technology, Remnants of religion lay in astrology And superstitious fears like the black cat. Only after the fall did the faiths Of only the Whisperers turn to mysterious wraiths And gods, But the odds That one of the gods was taken more seriously Than the rest was small, and not mysteriously, The small bit of Faith quickly passed as society's scat
So hence a people divided\\
\vin Those of Whispers and those of Nanon,\\
\vin Fight to the tooth and fight to the bone,\\
Until over Whispers Nanon presided;\\
\vin And when those of Nanon took\\
\vin Speech from the Whispers so as to look\\
\vin \vin And not hear,\\
\vin \vin They here\\
\vin Those of Whispers with\\
\vin Supposed powers of myth\\
Of creation with speech's remnants provided.
Now, it's come that those of Nanon have all but forgotten Those of Whispers except perhaps in myth Maybe portrayed as consorting with Black cats or something equally rotten. But for the Whisperers, the city Of Nanon is very real, also denial of pity Of sunlight, For sunlight Is blocked by the city directly overhead And the Whisperers know of only shadow instead; Only death out from beneath the city to be gotten.
So it was before the fall of Whispers that\\
\vin Faith of most all lay in technology,\\
\vin Remnants of religion lay in astrology\\
And superstitious fears like the black cat.\\
\vin Only after the fall did the faiths\\
\vin Of only the Whisperers turn to mysterious wraiths\\
\vin \vin And gods,\\
\vin \vin But the odds\\
\vin That one of the gods was taken more seriously\\
\vin Than the rest was small, and not mysteriously,\\
The small bit of Faith quickly passed as society's scat
The magic that's spoken of those Of the Whispers, is often made Out to be more, but because of their stayed Speech, only whispers remain in quite prose. So through the long stretches of time, The Whisperers, through long stretches of rhyme Can make - Only make - What they wish, with words divine, Benign, or malign, And in their creations complete trust repose.
Now, it's come that those of Nanon have all but forgotten\\
\vin Those of Whispers except perhaps in myth\\
\vin Maybe portrayed as consorting with\\
Black cats or something equally rotten.\\
\vin But for the Whisperers, the city\\
\vin Of Nanon is very real, also denial of pity\\
\vin \vin Of sunlight,\\
\vin \vin For sunlight\\
\vin Is blocked by the city directly overhead\\
\vin And the Whisperers know of only shadow instead;\\
Only death out from beneath the city to be gotten.\\
So begins a story, often told but never yet writ Of a divided people still the same And the rise and fall of a god played like a game. While not true itself, it is truth lit: As men continue to create and live under gods, What would happen if the gods, at odds, Warred and fell, Raising hell In the process? What would happen In a society misshapen If a wrathful god fell and no one cared a whit?
The magic that's spoken of those\\
\vin Of the Whispers, is often made\\
\vin Out to be more, but because of their stayed\\
Speech, only whispers remain in quite prose.\\
\vin So through the long stretches of time,\\
\vin The Whisperers, through long stretches of rhyme\\
\vin \vin Can make ---\\
\vin \vin Only make ---\\
\vin What they wish, with words divine,\\
\vin Benign, or malign,\\
And in their creations complete trust repose.
So begins a story, often told but never yet writ\\
\vin Of a divided people still the same\\
\vin And the rise and fall of a god played like a game.\\
While not true itself, it is truth lit:\\
\vin As men continue to create and live under gods,\\
\vin What would happen if the gods, at odds,\\
\vin \vin Warred and fell,\\
\vin \vin Raising hell\\
\vin In the process? What would happen\\
\vin In a society misshapen\\
If a wrathful god fell and no one cared a whit?
\end{verse}
\begin{ally}
Ah yes, your Keats phase.
@ -283,7 +450,7 @@ I wrote a few essays I was reasonably proud of, but it took another four years b
\begin{ally}
Ah yes, your ``boy meets girl with a twist'' story.
\end{ally}
Yeah, \href{https://writing.drab-makyo.com/fiction/consequences-of-dissonance/}{\emph{The Consequences of Dissonance}}.
Yeah, \emph{The Consequences of Dissonance}.
\begin{ally}
You originally named it \textbf{Coming to Terms with Being a Terrible Person}.
@ -394,8 +561,6 @@ I suppose so.
Good luck, kid.
\end{ally}\newpage
Autoplaying music
\begin{ally}
If this is about creativity, then tell me about composing.
\end{ally}