I’m In Love With This Pen, I’d Kill For It

A Monster of a Writer Lives Here!! – I Told You Not To Click!!! –

 

I believe in my words, as you do fairy-tales. One day a silver lining shall prevail over all of my darkness. But until then, I shall cut clouds azure veins and make it rain blood-red, twirl underneath something so passionately beautiful, I need you to see what is inside of me; what I am capable of doing, become tantalized by the colours of my soul. This page is writer’s stage; I’m sacrificing myself to the music of horrific words for your entertainment only. I’m leaping from buildings and drowning in an oceans currents, currently at the end of this pen I am immortal; nothing can stop me for achieving this deathly desired gift from life, turn the page and gain a paper-cut from me, even my words feed on your blood.

 

monster-writer

Keep going, Alex. Keep going! Show them all what you can do with words, out write them all, have them think twice about you! “Who Said That!!” Shuddered the writer, his fingertips quake over the space-bar and mouse.

 
Bite those fingernails down to the bone, keep going and swallow your arm, for this one idea you are looking for. They have gangs and hordes armed to the teeth, you laugh through your teeth and bring forth an undead alliance with the real monsters of this unnatural world, watch them cross you now, forever is all you have to get ready for war, luckily we are not men of the cloth.

 
Every word is a brick, so you say; are you building a new home for a new life? In my eyes, Alex, you are only another brick in that wall, the one that is holding up all of your foundations, do you not know that you are supposed to space your life out evenly. Hahaha! Mr. Broken!

 
I’m trying to escape from this haunted house from my bedroom window, the room has started to bring all of my nightmares to life; but as soon as I do I am dangling from my ankles from the windowsill, the evil is keeping me here. The whole neighbourhood has come to have a gander at something more damaged than them. Don’t help, I’m not scared to be dragged under this bed again. The monster under my bed ate the monster in my closet, there is no comfort within home. Come live with us, Alex, you are one of us.

 

the-monster-undre-my-bed

 

I like the idea of becoming a writer; you can’t blame me for believing in it, I’m a dreamer. No colour but so vivid, so close as I hand-slap myself away from grasping it. Maybe it’s not for me? Maybe I’m holding this pen wrong? Even if I have to steal the sun and use it as a bargaining-chip to ensure this dream doesn’t flourish away into the back of my mind as another failure, I will!

 
This pen is my Excalibur, with so much calibre that when I write people board up the doors and windows to make sure the evil I conjure doesn’t come knocking. Nothing grows upon the pages I write upon, death lives here, the birds migrate around me and wind changes direction to ensure it doesn’t come in contact with my shell. Something’s cannot be explained, plus the mystery brings in the readers.

 

I’m in love with this pen, I will kill for it.

 

leave-this-book-alone

 

They have tried to stop me from writing before; the priests came for tea and they tied me to the bed, they asked me cease and I projectile vomited all over them. I’m still chuckling. This is my way of exorcising my demons, do not read; do not think, close this page; they will come get you.

 
I only have one question. When is enough – enough? When will I know I have reached the end dark adventure? If I scream through my words would you be able to see the stream down my face?

 

 

You’ve made it this far down, leave a little LIKE & COMMENT! Thanks…


 

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I am Wild Boy

I am Wild Boy – Part 1

My mother’s face was a blurry smudge within my memory; luckily I don’t remember her; Dad spoke in his sleep and what he did to that poor woman… He didn’t leave her with much of one when we fled from her murder scene. I do remember the car trip though; I sat in the back seat swaying side to side while he drank bourbon driving away into a permanent foggy madness. I sat clutching a half eaten cookie in my toddler Parker jacket next to a duffel bag of Pistols, Rifles and enough ammo to put shame on any small war faction.

 

We were on the run from our old life to build a new-one off the grid, way to the backend of vast frozen nothingness which was our destination and where we were to begin our survival training. He told me he built this cabin for me and mom to come to when the world had gotten too much for us. It was tacky and crooked but it kept the rain and snow at bay and held warmth when the cold-rolled in. Dad evolved into a bedraggled ragamuffin, me, I transformed into a wild boy. Our own filth and stench was covered by rotten animal carcasses.

 

There was only so much I could do as a child but he took me hand in hand on hunts, sometimes he even allowed me to deliver the killer-blow to our prey. As the years shredded the photo memories of me and my dad, I grew into a routine machine; he called me his ‘special weapon’. Up before dawn crept upon the valley of forestry shadows, the aim was to kill, train, hydrate, train, eat and rest. I know nothing else.
We agreed to put off the childish treatment, so when hand to hand combat was the training for our afternoon, he laid into face until I bled and swelled. But he was getting on in life so when my muscle formed harder, I made sure I put him on his ass. Knife throwing, dismantling and assembling Guns and Rifles, martial arts, body and mind endurance, hunting, tracking; I became a black-belt in it all. In all honesty, I forgot about the world which scurried along beyond our tree line, when I hit my mid-teens I did think and wonder if there was anything else within my world as I sat on the edge of a mountainside or stood at the top of the trees gazing at the sunset.

 

One winter my father fell down with a bout with what he called pneumonia, he stopped his training, sleeping and eating; his breathing became erratic and body shifted to weakness. He couldn’t do much, so I trained by myself, hunted by myself, ate by myself, he died and then I started talking to myself.
I left his body within his room, I never stepped foot beyond the nail jagged door frame. I was now the King of this vast plant and animal life; the routine was I had and knew, so I pushed on further into the year of kill or be killed by the unknown.

 

Several Years Later

 

If I knew what depression was I would find it happily. Before ever daybreak I would sit in a couch position at the edge of my father’s bedroom door, perhaps he will wake up today. I wait until the sun’s ritual breath edged over the window ledge before I would do my daily bidding until the eyes of the dark skies blinked at me. Fearless to the predators and elements, they must sense something dark within me. The morning was skin nipping from the cold but the idea of victorious kill kept my blood steamy. I head towards the feet of the humongous wet-white hill, the deer huddle and graze within this area. A family a nestled nicely next to small stream which lines through my land. I would never think of harming something scrawny or motherly, I have my sights set on the papa-deer. I clutch my hunter’s blade in my hand; my eyes do not stray, before I move a muscle I think of the kill in every way, good or bad. Small rocks which collect at my feet, I pick one up and I subtly throw it away from the deer, so their attention would be towards the possible predator.

 

At the last few seconds before I sliced into my prey, a thunderous roar echoes throughout my valley. There are no storm clouds wandering above the trees. The deer scamper far into the tree line. A gargantuan wheeled hog type creature hurtles into my view at the other side of the trickling stream. Is this a new animal I have never seen?
Four men heavily armed with shotguns exit the hog. They are each dressed like greenery, perhaps to blend in. I scurry on my belly closer to get a better look. Dad always said people may be after him, could this be them? Could they be here for me? Are have they come to disrupt my kingdom and steal my food? One thing is certain, if they have, no four shotguns will stop be defending what I know.

 

I will recon for now and make a decision when the time is right. Keep your knife to your side Nick, it’s all you have.

The Enhanced Humans Versus Me

Generations ago the shield went up, separating our world in two, humans on one side and super-humans on the other. Our governments came to the conclusions to reside on either side of our planet, as jealousy began to play a major part from schools, winning all of the scholarships, to the workplace; the completion of tasks seconds after being told what to do was too much for us to catch-up with. We humans were the lower of the species on our world. So, for over two hundred and twenty-seven years we have lived separately. Until now.
The shield stands with a light whooshing sound of a purring engine which ripples from the ground to the sky. The mechanics of the walls generators are all buried meters under the ground.
“Don’t you just wonder about what they are like now? How do we know there is anyone even on the other side of the wall?” I roar with a dreaming tone as I look up into uncharted sky beyond the red shield on the super-side.
“Matty, we have all seen the human movies that portray all their powers, of course we have to use wires and special-effects but we get the idea of what they are. You always do this, dude. They are still over there; don’t worry about that, focus on your life on this side of the shield. My opinion from what I have read and seen, they’re all ass-clowns.” Dev takes another swig of pinched beer as he loafs on a raggedy sun-lounger; his cap drooped over his face. “C’mon Matt, let’s roll-out, I’m getting bored.”
“Go on without me, Dev.” I babble from my innards.
He looks over at me with his wavy-eyes, no hope there.
“Your rents still giving you jip?” He wipes the beer sweat from around his mouth. The sun is banishing quickly for another day. From his peepers to his feet my eyes are dragged down. “You know, you shouldn’t let them push you around, it’s not their life. You’re the smartest guy I know, make your own future. Forget what they say.”
I turn back to the shield and place my right hand on the red wall. My family’s demons rest within my eyes when I begin to talk about them.
“I guess we’re a lot more broken on this side of the shield. I’ll see you tomorrow, dude. “
He stands for a brief minute; eventually he throws his beer into the shield, smashing it. “You’ll figure it out, Matt. You always do.” He stumble strolls away over the loose clumps of rocks.
I’ll imagine a little more until I am surrounded by darkness, at this point I will go home and live within my nightmare. The wind picks up slightly, covering me in a chilly sand cloud.
I prop both my hands on the wall and look down at my feet, spitting at the sand, crestfallen.
“All my dreams will come true one day, pick-up you pride, Matty.” I close my eyes and try to wish for it.
I fall forward and land side-first on the dirt.
“Okay, that hurt.” I turn onto my back, brushing off the dust soil from my clothes. “I’m on the super-side.” I rise to my feet swiftly and race to the wall, trying my hardest to push back through. “Dev! Dev, I’m on the other side of the wall, I need help. Dev!” No use, he has beaten it. Out of breath I sit on a massive boulder and stare at my campsite, where I have sat with Dev since we were kids.
“A glitch, they’ve only ever been seen; no person from either side has ever fallen through one. Yeah, I am one of the unlucky ones, now not only on my side of the world.”
There’s only one thing from it, wait from Dev to come back, get our government involved and probably start an out-international incident. First time for everything. Or I could find a kind Super who can fly me back home.
The trek is on for life. I walk unknowingly on uncharted ground; even though I am desert-bound the night air still brings on cold-goosebumps to my upper-arms. I check my watch 02:13 am. I think it’s time to rest up shop, I prop my back up against a dead almost-fossilized tree, with a pulsating pain, I believe I have broken a rib when I fell earlier. Shiver yourself to sleep, Matt, it will all make sense when the sun comes up.

 

 
I shoot myself awake to the sound of a snap-pop of thunder and the screech of wind, but no breeze rubs arms with me.
“What the hell was that?” I bark to the cacti and dung-beetles that scurry across the floor. Readjusting my spine from a terrible and short night’s sleep I gain bearings, it wasn’t a dream, I’m still here.
I stand, looking around for signs of enhanced living, nothing. I do hear poppy-music far-familiar to the ones I hear on the human radio. I sceptically jog up a hillock and try to hide behind a few mass of rocks.
A small town, no roads leading neither in nor out; none the less a community has flourished in the dry eyes of the deserts mirage. On one of the streets an undersized blonde girl, standing at the end of a road looking out onto a plot of land. From out of nowhere the skeleton of a huge apartment building is materialized, from thin-air the exterior of the building is wrapped in brick. Lastly windows, doors and guttering are imagined into reality, right before my very eyes, a building is made; the young girl skips off down the street.
“What you doing skulking up here?” An observed female’s voice puts out.
I slip in scare; falling backwards onto my bed of sand. From blur to focused, she must be an angel if angels were real. Wavy black hair; she is Goth mirrored but her eyes were as peaceful as the rebellion statement she wears.
“I was looking at the young girl make that building from nothing, like with her thoughts.” I sang with grog-voice.
“Her name is Cassie; she lives next door to me. And her job is making things with her thoughts. It’s a better job that I have; she just made ten-thou-notes. Here give me your hand.” I pull myself up to her level. “You’re not from around these parts, are you?”
“Well no, I kind of fell through a glitch in the shield and couldn’t get back through.” In shock the strange girl takes a step backwards.
“You’re human. No – No this is bad, this is really bad. Oh my God, they will kill you if they find out a human has crossed over. You’re such a div! I can’t protect you from them, I can only fly.”
I interrupt her meltdown. “You can fly?” She looks at me with lightening then her seas calms.
“Yeah, I’m a delivery girl. It’s the only thing fliers are good for; taking things from A to B, that’s if you’re not a teleporter. Low money but second hand things needed to be shifted too.”
“That’s so awesome. I just have a question.” She nods. “What’s a div?” She laughs from her nose.
“A div is a stupid person; I wasn’t calling you stupid, I’m sorry. The whole situation is messed-up. You need to listen; there is a special part of our government here called the N.S.A.A.H. The National Security Association against Humans. This branch wants to eradicate all humans from this world so we can live as a whole not as equals, they look at you as a threat.” I see the look of fear in her eyes.
“Damn, well can’t you do your supergirl thing and fly me over the shield?”
She sits on a rock looking for her next move in the sand.
“It won’t do any good if I took you up there, it ends on the outskirts of space, that’s the reason why no of us have ever stepped foot on your side. There might be one way.” A light bulb is switched on.
“Name it! I haven’t even been here one day and my life is at stake and I am bringing more people or supers into my trouble. Its fine you don’t have to help me, I’ll find a way by myself.” I look out into the horizon.
“Hey, if I were to leave you and something happened to you then I would be a sucky hero, wouldn’t I? There may be one way but it’s going to be hard and we will have to walk through government territories, which if they find you with me, my ass is worm food also. So we’re going to need help, come with me.”
She grabs hold of my hand and runs me down the side of the sand hill onto the street.
“This is where I live, Superville, excuse the name. Act natural, do not act like a human I mean because all it takes is for one nosey neighbour or mind-reader to get in your head and figure out what you are, game over. I have a couple of friends that mind be able to help with our little problem.”
She leads on entering into a garden, walking up to what looks to a 50’s ranch house. She rings the bell. “What’s the password?” A voice from the other side commands.
“Open the door Butt-hole!” She grins into the peeper of the door. “Close enough, Blondie” The door swings open to a nerdy teen, around my age of seventeen, dressed in close to a mix of a doctors scrubs and casual clothing; a box of popcorn gripped tight. “C’mon in. Butch and I are about to watch When Humans Attack four. Who’s your friend?” He states throwing popcorn into his mouth.
“This is….” She didn’t even ask my name, I jump forward with an open hand. “I’m Matty, nice to meet you, man.”
With a full mouth of popcorn. “Hi Matty. I’m Jensen but everyone calls me Brains. Alicia has never mentioned you before.” She stands in front of me.
“We need to talk Brains.” She hastily urges.

 

 
In Brains bedroom lays taken apart computers that have been reassembled to make a Frankenstein-computer. Mechanical objects have been given life, he must really have brains. Jensen sits in front of me, mouth resting in awe. In the corner sits a quiet girl, very introvert within herself wearing what can only be noticed as librarian clothes. She is the one they keep calling Butch.
“A human here, sitting right in front of me. I thought I would never see the day. Licia’ if the N.S.A.A.H finds out you know he’s a goner, right?”
Alicia sits down beside Jensen, placing a hand on his back.
“That’s why I have come to you. You are a marvel genius; you are the smartest guy I know. We need your help to make sure he gets back home or they will cut him up in a lab. And I can only do it if I have my friend on my side with me. Take a risk with me.” She pleads.
He exhales the worry from his racing heartbeat within a blow, slicks back his head and nods in agreement. “What’s the plan?” He gives in.
“Sweet! Well, there is no actual way we can turn off the power to the shield but if we talked to Lady Helen and get us on our side, she may take Matty home without anyone even knowing.”
“I’m sorry; I’m feeling a little more human today than usual. Can someone tell me what is happening and why they call the girl sitting next to me, Butch?” I interject in a stern tone.
Jensen stands his eyes are moving like his is reading something, perhaps he is writing scenarios within his mind.
“They call her Butch because she is impervious to everything, she won’t even die, bullets, radiation nor even a common-super-cold could stop her but she is as quiet as a mouse. And Helen is the President of the Super-world’s daughter; she is the only living teleporter to have lived in over forty years. Now if we go there and manage to talk some sense into her, she may actually be able to take you home without tripping over bad grounds.” Alicia bites her bottom-lip.
“I’ve got it!” Jensen stammers with an eerie shriek. He stomps off through our huddle into his closet. “I made something when I was thirteen that might be able to help you, Matt.” Clothes, porn-magazines and old half dismantled machines are thrown out. “Tah-dah! I would like to introduce to you the static-human-flier. Which when turned on will harness the magnetic energy from our own world and resist our curse to it, which in theory should make you fly; no it will make you fly, Matt. Try it on, dude.”

 

 
I exit the bathroom; all the suit contains is some boots and gloves that have some circular holes within the base of each of them, wires from all four limbs lead under my clothing to a belt that has an on and off button and a volume knob.
“C’mon let’s go see if it still works.” Jensen inquires.

 

 
I stand in the middle of Jensen’s back garden the trio of heroes stand at his back door.
With one of his hands palms he holds around his mouth, Jensen asserts. “Okay, turn the belt on and turn up the volume knob to the halfway line.” I do that – Nothing.
I shrug my shoulders and begin to walk back. “I don’t think its working something must be wro…..” I shoot off like a rocket missing the homes chimney by centimetres. I climb higher and higher into the clouds, uncontrollably and dip and weave through clouds. I try and slow the speed by the volume knob but reaching for it I accidently flick the off switch.
I plummet downwards like a rock, repeatedly turning on and off the switch in a frantic rage. “C’mon, turn on! Help!”
“I’m coming!” I hear Alicia’s voice come from the cloud I just fell through. She shoots out with an opened hand. She grabs my shirt and pulls me into her; she wraps her legs around me.
“I can’t hold your weight; brace yourself for a crash landing.” We crash down in the sand area close to where we met.
“That was close. Thanks Alicia, you saved my life.” She stands up and brushes herself off.
“I’m a superhero, its kind’o my thing. C’mon, let’s go get you home.”
Brains and Butch are cheering at the start of the street. “That was awesome!”

 

Saved By An Angel – Part Two

As people shoulder straight through Jack, he seems unmoved by their barge, walking side by side with me. Crowds of people are herding either towards school or work, the whole sidewalk is ram-packed.
“Okay, time for a game changer, Natalie. What I am planning to do is to rebuild you, saying that, I will have to destroy you first; all in a hypothetical sense.” Jack reasons, fingering his septum above his upper-lip.
I stop in my track and share a glare of unease to his witty grin. He turns and stands right in front of me.
“What did I tell you? I asked you to trust me, it won’t hurt one bit, well not physically.” He chuckles as he re-turns and begins walking again. I really do not fancy answering him within this swarm of walkers; I don’t think I could handle the weird looks, laughs and points of their normal ways.
I jog up to his pace and take out my Galaxy S4 Mini phone and hold it to my ear.
“Jack, what do you have planned? You have a look in your eyes that’s not really settling well within me.”
He halts and looks over someone’s shoulder as they are reading text messages; the young ladies life Jack scopes into has a smile cut right across her face, the message must be a good one perhaps from a new love. He claps his hands together.
“I’ve got it and we can do it before school, Nat. Onwards and upwards!” Jack pinches my cheeks with so much excitement which emulates from his facial expression. He grabs my hand and tugs me down the street, all the by-passers look on to me being dragged by an invisible force.
“Jack, if you don’t stop pulling me I will be forced to call you an Archangel.” Jack stops in his track but I keep staggering and hurtle straight into his back.
“Hey, Guardian Angels are the poor men in heaven and those Ass-Angels are the movie stars. I am nothing like those douche bags and I sleep better knowing that.” He affirms with a cocky tone. “We’re at your first task anyway.” He pecks me on the cheek. My affinity for this man, slash angel is growing on me.
“Task? What task? I thought you were sent here to help me.” He creeps up to me and throws his arm around me. “I am but the help cannot only come from me, think of me as a coach who hypes you up before the big game but it is inevitably you who will be doing all the running and scoring.”
“Great, Self-help, Jack I could have done this myself.” I exhale gently.
“Sort of self-help but you will have to help yourself to my advice. I don’t lie, Nat.”
I give in with my hands wiping my old life away within my nervous sweat.
“Now, do you see in Jacks-Snack-Bar to our left; there is a guy named Steven Jackson, he is the one wearing a leather jacket.” I glance through the window and see the most rough-looking, chiselled jawed guy I have ever seen, sat with five other loud-ass dudes. “Nat, look at me. What I need from you in our first task is I want to walk in there and tell that guy that he is the most luscious and sexiest guy you have ever laid eyes on and all you want to do is lick his bare chest. Then walk back out before he gets the chance to reply.”
Only thinking about doing this deed freezes my every limb and chases my heartbeat.
“I don’t think I can Jack. That’s way too much for me to handle first off.”
He puts his hands on my face and holds my head within his palms, looking at me right in the eyes, right into my soul.
“Natalie, you are a new you. You have a new look and a new lease of life. I would never have asked this of you if I myself did not think you were ready for it, I wouldn’t have asked it from you. You are, trust me.” I lighten up. “Now get that ass in there.”
Step towards complete demise from the social structure. I enter through the door with a ding and silently I strategize all that I must say while trying to keep it all together. The laugh from the gang in the corner bellows through-out the Snack-bar; all other sitters are unnerved and scared to ask for them to settle.
I walk over panicky but with a mission to keep me marching.
“Hi-Hiiii Steve.” The whole room stops and stares at me about to make a fool of myself. “I would… Like to say-y-y-y… You are the sexiest of all men and I would lick to like you… I mean like to lick you.” I quickly close my eyes, turn, open and march straight out of the door.
“I mess up, Jack.” I almost wail.
“No you didn’t. What you did was stand up to everything that was telling you not to and you took a step into the beyond of your normal state. First step complete, tick it from the list. C’mon let’s get to school.”

We cut through Jenkins Park, which is a wooded area but if cuts the time to walk to school by at least twenty minutes which in theory means an extra twenty minutes in bed. Jack is hopping over logs.
“What’s it like being an angel, Jack?” I probe into his life to get to know about this mystery that has chained himself to me.
“Boring at times, all you do is watch; we all really watch the intimacy side of life, that’s kind of our movies. That one spark between two people that flourishes into a forest fire, it’s an F’in treat which goes great with popcorn.” He reports without ever making eye-contact, still hopping over branches.
“The Devil was an angel, right? So is he still downstairs?” Jack cocks his head and burst out laughing.
“Okay, let me clear the whole Lucifer story up, for your ears only. Lucifer was the most beautiful of angels, females wanted to be with him and the males would have carved off their right-wing just to be him for a day. So one day he and our all mighty father had a major falling out, which got him kicked out our house. That’s the part of the book that all you guys have read, but like it is in heaven it shall be on Earth. My dad forgave and let him back in ages ago, he messed up, paid the price and now he is the golden boy again; a vain ass-bag but still a daddy’s boy at the end of the day. Why do you think whenever there’s a movie made about him, all of the people say there is a curse on the movie set. I would be pissed too to have people think for a millennium that I was actually evil. He’s back at home, think as hell as a rehab centre for angels. He’s bringing his autobiography out on scroll in a few months, I have pre-order my copy along with the audio version of his story in hell, narrated by Elvis. We’re not that different, baby.”

A ruckus of male laughter and shouts comes echoing from through the weaves of the trees and leafs. Me and Jack pass deer in the headlight stares at one another.
“Jack! What could that be?” I hush over to him.
“I don’t know…. Werewolves, maybe?” He chucks, undeterred by the hollers as he stares into my deep blues.
From the bushes behind us comes Steve Jackson, clicking his knuckles.
“There you are my sweet thing, I didn’t get the chance to reply to your compliment earlier, you ran away so fast, so me and my boys…” All Stevens’s boys come out from the shadows of the woods and stand behind Steve. “…Drove around looking for you, to thank you in our special way for making our day; I hope you like it.”
I start to back up with the trembles of fear shivering me. Their evil deeds show in their eyes as they step forward and try to flank me from the sides. Jack steps in front of me.
“Natalie, slowly start to back up, I will deal with this. Nobody and I mean nobody gets in the way of my work.” Jack bows his head with his eyes closed, focusing himself. Without any effort his flutters into the air; the forest turns dark. The shadows of gigantic wings attach and open from Jacks back. Within one flap of his almost invisible wings and ferocious winds tears through the forest, ripping up logs and sending the spiralling through the air, brush that laid still distorts the entire forest; along with the roar of wind help pick up the hooligans and somersaults them through the woodland until they are out of sight.
Everything soon settles and begins to rest on mayhem. Jack comes back to the throws of gravity. He turns with a smile.
“Shall we get to school, then?” He bubbles like nothing has happened.
I nod incessantly in shock as he brushes by me with a wink.

What have I gotten myself into? Who is this guy? Why me? I guess by the time this week is up I will find out, won’t I?

As a Writer, What We All Expect…

As a writer just like you, I do hope for a literary agent one day. I guess we all have that dream to be up to the same stance as Stephen King, J.K. Rowling, Edgar Allen Poe or even Jackie Collins… So on and so forth. But While I wait here at Rock-Bottom or at the Bottom of the Ladder I am able to perfect my skill and gain an audience.
Now I know when writing a blog every page always hits a Dead-Point when no one is coming in especially when your dream is at stake. But DON’T STOP! I don’t mind if I get 20 views one day and the next day 200 views on my blog because I have faith not only in my writing but also myself and time will form my future.
Now I know we all have dreams, we all just drift away and think of a life unlike the ones we are living now and a writing career where you are at the top of your game and no one can stand to you.

If you want greatness, no one else will pick up that pen.

But I have seen writers do the minimum amount of work and expect the world to fall at their feet and call what they do as art. ~ Hang your heads in shame. ~ But I have also seen writers like this gain a writing-contract and deliver everything that no one wants. Awesome!
But I have also seen people do the maximum amount of writing and still heading nowhere.

Show your feathers and you will fly.

Be something more than yourself; be like The Dark Knight and become an idea, an idea that is unbreakable, unmoveable; do not show your scars – create your own. And from this an audience will form and follow your shadow. This is when you become great.
Think of yourself as a superhero creating your persona; each time you type you save a soul and the more you save the more your name flies around the globe. Until the time a literary agent comes forth from a spaceship and presents you to the world of Fame and fortune and hands you a costume and forever you will never be able to be defeated.
Yes, I do realise that is a little far out there but it make sense to me. Haha! So be Clark Kent for a time, grow into your powers and soon you will become Superman. (Yes, I have seen Man of Steel, found it to be Awesome!)

 
But do not write for Fame or Fortune because all you will get is broke-pockets and fewer friends than when you started.
We all start somewhere but being at the bottom isn’t all that bad because it just shows us where we want to arrive.
So, do your work, take your time and don’t reach for greatness sooner than you’re ready. In time everything will come.

 
Keep those pens busy….
Alex.

How To Write Successful Fiction

Where to start? Where to start? …If you cannot pull fantasy from reality, click on a clothes website or some porn now because I will be wasting my time…. I’ll wait until your granny porn page has loaded……. Okay, now those losers have skedaddled, what I am going to tell you will help you come up with some amazing ideas and can also sometimes beat writersblock, as it always works for me.
I go outside!!! I know; I know we’re writers and some of our best ideas happen inside – On the crapper – after sex or masturbation over all of our granny porn (Jokes!) But to be possessed by an idea that will fester as an incurable disease within you, you will have to live. And within my experience all of the monsters live out in the big bad-ass world; so I make myself bad-ass to fit in and fill my mind.
Pick something that you have done in within your life or something you do. An idea could be running away from home (I swear this is how I usually start my ideas; not with a craptastic idea like running away, bear with me, I will make scene. A slim line between genius and madness remember…. Jeez!)
So where can we go with that? Well perhaps you begin on running away or you ran away time ago and it’s time to return…. RETURN FOR REVENGE! THEY TOOK WHAT YOU LOVE; A MILLION GUNS, FIVE MILLION DEAD BODIES, ONLY ONE MAN AND ONE PURPOSE! ….Sorry…. I really mean that; my mind wanders most of the time. Okay, back on track.
Well you can have unfinished business or have someone you love or something you need.
What we have so far is…. “You ran away; it’s time to go back home for _____?” This is what I like to call general fiction, it’s not real and never happened but you want to write it.
Now I know it makes sense but here is the tricky part; YOU DON’T WANT TO WRITE GENERAL FICTION, DO YOU? YOU WANT DRAGONS OR VAMPIRES AND FAIRIES IN YOUR TALES.
But you have a small outline of what is going to happen within the story. If you are female within your story; you can possibly be a princess who ran away because of your abusive father the king, he helped drive your mother into a grave and some other bad-ass shizz’.
So from that I can see. A young girl running through a dark wooded area, her dress is being ripped by the twigs like witches elongated fingers. She is bawling her eyes out. She needs to out run the image of the castle in the background because it is only a reminder what her father has done. SWEET! (You need a good imagination to be a writer. Some have it, others don’t, sorry, that’s the way the world turns… If you can’t write Fiction, I am sure you can get a job writing granny porn…. Haha!)

– If you are a writer you must think as yourself as a God, not thee God, but a God who is willing to make and take life. – Alexander Kennedy. –

Now as a writer I am putting faith in you that you know about character building and building tension and other things. Well as our character has had a bad spurt within her life, it is now time for her to leave the weak ways of princess-hood and become a warrior woman. And the only way that will happen is if you break her thought processes within the story. (No, I am not going to fill in all the gaps for writing a good story… Jeepers! The idea alone is pretty good, a bad-ass version of Snow White. Booya!)
But you can end it with her, I don’t know; riding on a huge dragon that she met on her travels of womanhood and they are best friends. She attacks from the sky while her love interest is on horseback with an army from a rival country to destroy the castle and her evil father.
In reality that story could be a teenage girl runs away from home because her father’s a dick, so she meets some friends and with their help she and her gang go back home to retrieve her clothes, or something boring like that. Yes, reality does depress me slightly, that’s why I live in a far away world.
So there you have it. Use your own life to write any genre of fiction. ALWAYS! ALWAYS! MAKE SURE THAT PEOPLE CAN RELATE TO YOUR WORK WITHIN THEIR LIFES. Great works come from others experiences because people can see themselves as the characters, remember that.
I actually use this method for all of my work.
Try it out or if you are having trouble. Email me or something and we can talk and will help you develop your own idea. (Don’t worry I don’t steal, it’s tacky, stupid and shows you have no talent.) But I am here to help.
Oh…. And the simplest ideas are always the best, writers’ nowadays over think and complicate their stories and that’s why when people read their work all they get is “Well, it was okay, one time is enough for that story…” Pfft…. Write your heart and fingers silly people; lit agents – certain doors and greatness await you.
This has been a psychotic announcement from Alex Kennedy.
Keep those pens busy….

 

This is why I hate people

So… where to start? How about at the beginning, does that seem like a good place? Yeah? No? …Any-hoo!

You see, I’ve been a writer for many’a year now, and I’d like to think that I’m a nice guy, with a humongous shattered mess inside of him, but a nice guy, at the end of it all. Let’s rewind to the end of 2010, you remember those days, when the movie Inception was baffling minor minds, and there was that Ke$ha song – Tik-Tok that would still ring in out eardrums within eight short years.

But back to why I hate people. In the year 2010 I was still an up-and-coming writer, I had just received my song writing contract for a huge label in Nashville, Texas, America. So I had gained a few eyes of people’s scouting my scourge or looking for an easy pay-day/win. This is when I liked people. Now, I’m not a person who seeks/writes for a any type of pay, you guys are pay enough.

But back then, I wrote for quite a few fellow men and women, with Novellas, short stories, poetry, manuscript ideas and screenplays. And I asked for nothing in return, BARRING, a nod, a shout-out, a high-five or simply put… A thank you, if they were ever to make it to the big time.

Let’s just say, I helped create a business woman into a virtuoso-writer and helped co-write (75% or more) a screenplay for literacy’s new rising writing star. My heart went out to her, she deserves it, why wouldn’t I be a nice person, she was double my age and I carved her imagination so she could try at it.

So here’s where the coin flips… You all know what’s coming, don’t laugh or smirk, c’mon. I got in contact with her, no connection anywhere. Finally, she still has her social media – so I pinged her a quick message and you know what I got in return. Pretty much, her telling me “Thanks for everything, see you whenever.” I spent years assisting her and now I’m given the middle finger.

I’m not saying it’s all people, most of the people I have partnered up with on a writing project have kept their promises. I guess… Your best friends can also be your best enemies.

Luckily you’re not someone who’d do that, right.

Stay shiny and good to one-another.

I’ll be back soon.

Alex