Which is odd, because I write fiction. Or maybe that explains everything.
The thing is, I crave authenticity. But authenticity is hard to find in fiction, especially when it comes to characters and endings.
Much too often, the characters are simple stereotypes or completely lack depth. They’re missing the motivation for their actions or any true personality. I’m a big fan of personality. I want characters to be quirky and full of life, like real people are. I want them to talk like real people. Instead what I hear coming out of their mouths are the words the author shoves in there. (more…)
I wandered, browsing as I walked. I wasn’t really looking for anything. Just looking. I strolled down the stairs, and as I came around the corner, I saw it. The desk. Scratched and dusty, it looked like life had been hard on this beautiful black desk. It wobbled a little as I touched it. I ran my fingers across its surface, leaving streaks in its protective coating of dirt. Stickers dotted across it announced a price of $40.
Most people probably saw the scratches and walked away. Usually I see scratches and I think about a way to cover them up. But not this time. This time, I actually liked the scratches. Scratches and nicks are life. Heaven knows if I were a piece of furniture, I’d have plenty of scratches. (more…)
As an artistic person (albeit one who cannot draw), I am mesmerized by color. I always have been. As a kid with colored pencils (I hated crayons – too waxy), I was intrigued by what colors looked good together. My favorite combo was purple and teal. I was about 7.
As a writer, I find it amusing how we use color to express ideas. For example:
She was feeling blue/gray (sad).
He looked a little green (sick). She was green with envy.
He saw red (anger).
It’s funny, in writing it seems that colors, unless being used to describe a setting, clothing, etc., are never good. (more…)