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Five Sentences

An entire story summed up in the last paragraph. Only five sentences.

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“Next time a fairy wakes you to go on an adventure into the demon realm, call me,” Adam says playing with the pendant he brought back. Still it glows with the energy of the demon now trapped inside.

“Eliza will love it,” Ralf says. “She wouldn’t have been able to escape without your help. That’s all she cares about.”

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Gargoyles Part I

 

Curious about the animals from the celestial realm, Sebastian sets off to find and see one in person.

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Floating dust particles shine through the sun rays breaching the window. A loud snore fills the air. Sebastian tries to tune it out, nose buried in Isaiah’s books. There’s hundreds of them. They’re everywhere. On chairs. On couches. On the dinner table. The man’s only activity appears to be studying. Not common for someone so rude and obnoxious.

‘Gargoyles’ written in big golden letters on the spine of the book Sebastian’s holding. He stares with wonder and intrigue, fascinated at the creatures hand drawn onto the pages. Tiny cliff notes fill the corners of each page pointing out the different parts of the creatures. Weaknesses. How they attack. And he reads every word.

“I could definitely beat that one,” he says to himself poking the monster on the page. “The gargoyle. A bird with stone armor. Capable of flight,” he reads, “it can either stand up-right or run on its arms and legs. Like a gorilla that can fly.”

“That’s amazing!” Sebastian yelps as he springs to his feet.

Isaiah moans. Opens his eyes. Turns to the kid. Then says, “Goodnight mom,” and falls back out of consciousness.

Sebastian, shrunk nearly waking Isaiah and sits back down. Nose back in the book. “Only ever found at churches. A type of animal from the celestial realm.”

The gears in the kid’s head begin to spin. He’s remembering a…

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Loosen The Grip

The most difficult challenge a writer faces is learning to be less critical of themselves. To allow the work to stand on its own. Learning when to stop editing themselves and how to let go of the work when its time.

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Click, click, click… Typing away at the keyboard. Minutes morph into hours, then days, then weeks. Before too long, months have gone by. A hundred thousand words on a manuscript. The deadline for the first chapter is in a month. It’s time to edit that first chapter. And edit. And edit. And edit that first chapter.

Typing away at the keyboard. Minutes morph into hours, then days, then weeks. Before too long, a month has gone by. Ten thousand words edited to the fullest of my ability. All the little finalizations required get attention. That nervous shiver of whether or not something is going missed. Confidence is hard to have, but I know it has to be let...

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Self-Taught

Jack rambles about not believing in writers block and explains why.

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Once in a while I draw blanks when attempting to come up with something new to write. But I don’t quit. I’m well trained. Disciplined enough to know just by writing my thoughts down I’ll get somewhere.

I’ve taught myself to expand on seemingly any amount of writing through nothing but will power. I’ve stopped believing writers block is anything more than a state of mind the inexperienced go through. It’s become too easy to turn nothing into something.

See, one of the main lessons about writing is to understand that what one means when they say ‘being a writer’ what they really mean is being a self-editor. Understanding how to twist and turn your own words into something greater than they were on the first round.

Take the first few sentences of this very aimless rant, for example. I can simply change the perspective to third person and pretend I’m telling you the story of a struggling writer. One who is about to force through his writers block and come to the conclusion that anything is possible with a little effort. But in reality this started as nothing more than a mental exercise. Nothing more than my writing to myself about not knowing what to write. Yet, that turns out…

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