ha! finally, i got through to blogger! yipeedeedoo!

i'm sorry i've been pasting some writing tips here. I find it real hard to keep the information on my inbox as it's near full. i figured i'd read it from here instead. But then, why am I even explaining this to you? hahaha! THIS IS MY BLOG.

WORKSHOP OUTLINE
FUNDAMENTALS OF LIFE STORIES WRITING

"Terrific learning experience! The instructor, tools, course
site, and content all interrelated beautifully to help me grow
as a writer. I can see that a great deal of work and thought
went into the structure. I teach online for a living, and I can
see that it is well done and professional."
--Patrick Keough, Fundamentals of Life Stories Writing

Writing is inherently a private, personal activity. Perhaps the
most personal, most instinctive form of writing is the
journal--the record of a life as it is lived. Even though you
may be intimately familiar with the events and "characters"
themselves, you may never have given thought to the actual
process of turning these personal experiences and memories
into "stories" that can be read and enjoyed by others. In this
workshop you will learn fundamental creative writing techniques
that will help you explore personal and family stories and
record life experiences in ways that are creative,
entertaining, and personally meaningful. This workshop will
consist of six two-week sessions.

Session One: Getting Started
Exploring your memories; Focusing on sensory details

Session Two: The Importance of Place
Setting the scene; Writing descriptively about place

Session Three: Real People Are Characters Too
Becoming a careful observer; Dialogue

Session Four: Every Family Has a Story
Anecdotes & oral histories; Interviewing & research

Session Five: Voice & Style
Putting your personality on the page

Session Six: Making Your Writing the Best it Can be
Polishing your prose; Revising and rewriting

MEMORY
FROM FUNDAMENTALS OF LIFE STORIES WRITING

The intent of the memoir is the sharing of our memories with
others; the very word "memoir" implies this. When writing your
life story, your memory is your research library--your
database. The present is fleeting, each moment rushing into
the past before we can grasp hold of it. Only the MEMORY of a
moment remains to be analyzed, cherished, disdained, or
written about.

Most of our memories are rooted in the five physical senses:
sight, hearing, smell, touch, and taste. These types of memories
are recordings of the physical, our body's journal of our
experiences and perceptions. The sight of a thunder cloud may
send a shiver up your spine, recalling the fear you felt when
you were nearly struck by lightning. The sound of a favorite
song on the radio can take you back to the longing you felt
about your first love.

Learning to probe your memory is one of the most important
things you can do as a memoir writer. Recall your earliest
memory. Is it REALLY your earliest memory, or can you go back
further? Try to go beyond the complex memory of an event like
your first day of school, to a more subtle image or
feeling--maybe your favorite blanket, or a cherished stuffed
toy. Write down every detail you can remember. What feelings
does that memory evoke? Which of your senses triggers your
most vivid memories--smell? sight?

Practice probing your memory. Begin jotting down notes,
keeping a journal of random memories and past experiences,
noting every detail. Try to include elements from all your
senses. What is the lighting like? What objects are around
you? Reach out: What do those objects feel like? Take a deep
whiff: What smells are in the air? What sounds do you hear?
What does it taste like? What is its texture?

These notes and journals are the building blocks that you will
use later to construct the stories you wish to share. The
details you remember will add richness and depth to your work,
and will bring your stories to life. And don't worry if your
details are not exactly accurate. Go with your first instinct
or impression. Memory is fluid, and the truth is in the
feeling or emotion you present, not in whether your dress was
blue or yellow. What's important is that you convey the
ESSENCE of your experience to your reader and make it real for
her.

at this day and age, is it possible for a person to have two consecutive dates in one night?!

I've done it before, and, hell, I can do it again! (cue in: thunder and lightning) bwahahahahahaa!!!

I envy people who are able to speak freely about their love. Because mine is trapped somewhere dark and dreary, and I can only speak of it in my thoughts or with him.
I envy those who have the strength to face each day with a smile on their faces. Though a grin is actually easy to come up with, hardest part is keeping it genuine.
I envy those who are laden with distractions around them, so they wouldn't have to think about how wretched their lives are. Or, maybe, their lives aren't even lonely, at all. It's just me who sees my pain solely because I own it. Mine alone.
I envy those who can easily put their lives back on track after a major downfall. Though I console myself with the fact that I probably have the most manageable and easiest time in this situation, I cannot help but cry out to heavens why this had to happen to me. To him. To us.
Most of all, I envy those believe in the supreme power of love, and who see such as the only solution to all life's ills. I have been badly burned and bruised enough to make me just scrape off the charred part of me and walk on smug-faced and pretentious. But deep inside, I am my same self. Licked by the flames and lost.

B (Mr. crisp trousers and sexy tie)invited me for coffee last night. I made all sorts of excuses like I was too tired to do any walking, etc. A date was not really what I needed last night. Good thing, he sort of read my mind and called up. He sounded very congenial and I think we're going to hit it off pretty well. I add him to my list.

The members of WAWI (Women Artists and Writers International) have helped me a lot in bringing out the voices inside me. I take consolation from the fact that I am not alone in my writing dilemma, that even them, writers seasoned by frequency and time, do have trouble thinking of topics to write about, or, even, actually getting their asses to a chair, to sit and write. One of them quoted the great Stephen King, I think it was Lore Kemsley, that the secret to being a successful writer is having the patience to sit and write. Yes, despite the fact that the broom calls out to you, or the mess on the floor tries to lure you to pick them up. It does sound like a writer becomes a slob at some point, but I guess all of us do keep our mess lying around at all times. Physical. Emotional. Intellectual. So there's no excuse really for me not to write.

Yeah, easy for me to say that now that I have this lightbulb in my head. There are moments when I don't feel like writing anything, at all. Depression gets to me, sometimes. I try to push it back and do more worthy things, but I'm just human and I do give in to weakness in one way or the other. A friend of mine told me, "You should not let other people define your happiness." (Thanks, M) Right now, my problem is the primary reason why I am unable to write. Perhaps people are right. I should try focusing all my energies into things that merit me something; where I could get something good in return. I'm thinking about getting The Artist's Way with my next paycheck.

This is a poem sent to me through text by Mr. Vinchi Aberin last December 2002. I don't know if he wrote this or got it elsewhere. It's beautiful.

"In every heart there is a room,
A sanctuary safe and strong,
To heal the wounds from lovers past,
Until a new one comes along.
I spoke to you in cautious tones,
You answered me with no pretense.
And so I share this room with you.
My silence is my self defense.
But if my silence made you leave,
Then that would be my worst mistake,
and so I make decisions, too,
And you can have this heart to break."

His words dance in a frenzy inside my head. Should I even still keep believing what he tells me. Today, reality rushed through me, sent me flying to floor and slapped me repeatedly in the face. I have no say in whatever decisions he makes. I never had any. He knows I have accepted our fate, but for him not to tell me about events unfolding further confirms my status in the sidelines. I was never his partner.

He sounds very interesting, not to mention the fact that he is in an entirely different field from mine. I was told that he was quite the shy person, but when I got to talk to him, he didn't seem that at all. I even think he is someone worthy of a conversation. My imagination tells me he is a guy in crisp trousers and sexy tie. I will have to see for myself when the time comes. There IS a silver lining behind every dark cloud. This one might not be as lustrous yet; only fate will tell.