Look, I've been writing.

Dumbing Down

Sixty years ago it wasn't uncommon for some people to be unable to spell correctly, mostly due to a lack of education or the family's need for more regular incomes. You would like to think that we as a society have gone beyond that. It is not illegal to refuse anyone their right to an education but unfortunately our modern ways mean that people are still – or should that be again – losing a fighting battle with the English language.

Commonly regarded as the most complex language to master for those coming to it later in life, I believe it should be given the respect it deserves by those who call it mother tongue. But modern technology is gradually degrading it. With the invention of text messages and instant messaging services our communication age rounded a corner – leaving half of the alphabet behind. Words have been shortened, others replaced by symbols or numbers and even vowels removed – all in an attempt to save space and time. Even sites such as Twitter constrict the amount you can write in one go, at 140 characters a turn.

Why are we all in such a hurry?

The written word is a wonderful part of our lives. Think to those well thumbed books on your shelf; letters from an old friend; an invitation to a weddings; cards on your birthday. Without these things our lives would ultimately be wildly different and without the written word none of these would be possible. One could argue that there have been entire societies and tribes who used merely pictures and images to convey messages, but none of those people have ever felt the joy of following “Once upon a time...” to its conclusion, or reading a love letter dedicated solely to them.

Obsessed

So a little over a year ago I was introduced to the workings of the mind of Neil Gaiman. It started with seeing the movie Stardust - five or six times - and then being given a gift of the book of the same name and thoroughly enjoying it. So then I looked into him some more, and have since read American Gods, Anansi Boys, The Graveyard Book, Coraline and most recently Neverwhere. His books are the kind of things I wish I had the brian power to read. His mind just baffles me. I would hate to be lost inside it for any length of time. The detail in his writing, his style, the way his words just flow across the page. His childrens books {the two I've read} are a bit bizarre and you wouldn't read them to younger children for fear of frightening them, but wow are they amazing.

I read his books and feel at a loss. I have always wanted to write a book, preferably a kids books, but I've never come up with an idea strong enough to put to paper. When I read Gaiman's work I feel less than adequate when it comes to my writing. Why would anyone consider reading my material when there are novels such as his in the world already?

First Timer

Nineteen years old and still a modest girl. I had intended to stay that way, at least until I found someone I trusted enough to do it with. But I was pure no longer. I didn’t want to go with some random guy I barely knew but I had. I wanted my first time to be special, memorable, not regrettable. I knew it was going to hurt, I was prepared for that. I’d done my homework, but it still scared me. I knew I would get over the pain, and that I would end up enjoying it. Some people even got addicted to it –they did it once and wanted more and more.
He tried to sweet talk me into it. ‘It’ll only hurt a little bit,’ he told me.
‘But…the blood?’
‘That’s natural; almost everyone bleeds when they do it. Just don’t think about it. Relax!’ he told me ‘you’ll be fine. You’re in good hands. Trust me.’ He looked into my eyes and I believed him. ‘You still wanna do this?’
I nodded. I could feel the pain beginning and I wanted to dig my nails into the flesh of this guy who was causing it to cause him pain in return, but instead I clenched my fists and bit my lip to stop from screaming. I wanted to do this. I knew I’d probably regret it in the morning but I was here now, I wasn’t going to stop him.
Thoughts began to rush through my head, anything to distract from the pain I could feel. What if my friends found out I’d gone with some guy none of them knew? Or worse, what if my mum found out? I would not be the responsible girl she had raised if she did find out. I could try hide it but they’d uncover it, I know they would.
“Almost there.” I heard him say reassuringly. The ache was still constant, but I was becoming immune to it, each prick feeling slightly less painful than its predecessor. I heard the buzzing stop, and felt him pull away from my skin. ‘That wasn’t so bad now was it?’ he asked of me. I shook my head, feeling too shocked to speak. I was too scared to look but I did. I could just about make out the new black outline of a butterfly on my waistline, still slightly bloody from the needle.
“What about the colours?” I asked.
“Oh you’ll have to come back to get the specific colours done, that takes quite some time.” He was beginning to clear up his equipment.
“Come back?” I gulped. Once was enough I thought.
“Sure, in a couple of weeks when that’s healed. Make an appointment with Janet. Just make sure she knows it’s a tattoo appointment and not a piercing, we don’t wanna pierce those pretty wings. See ya.” And with that he left me alone with my new tattoo.

All In A Night - Creative Piece

I know I said when I started this, once upon a nightmare, that this would contain things I had written or played about with for creative classes, but I was never happy enough with anything to put it on public display. So I'm going to throw up some bits and pieces over the next few days. For anyone that actually reads this, I'd love some feedback. The first one is a section from a story I wrote over a year ago, roughly titled Sophie & Noah. It's something I was keen to work more on, but other creative things took over. Hopefully when I have some free time in the next few months I'll start to work on it, among other things. Very short section. Enjoy:


The dance-floor was now heaving with a hundred or so students, and the heat was beginning to get to her. ‘Getting a drink’ she yelled over Abba and weaved her way across the floor. Her hand brushed against the small of someone’s back to gently nudge him out of her way, she slipped between three girls dancing around their handbags and manoeuvred her way to the edge, and without thinking took the long route around the club. She swept past people dancing and drinking and found herself at the bar. The queue was three people deep and although she hated the squash that was inevitable, the thought of going dancing again without having had something to quench her thirst wasn’t appealing. Elbowing her way into the crowd Sophie was checking the back of every brown-haired spiky-headed boy in her vision. She had studied Noah’s features over time and could pick him out at a distance. Unfortunately half the males on campus had spiked brown hair, broad shoulders and wore baggy jeans so it did make the task that little bit harder but she almost always got it right. Having made it to the bar with the use of a practiced elbow, Sophie ordered her drink and looked around. She noted a few familiar faces; some guys from her course were nearby making a scene. They were dressed head to toe in green and black and had obviously come for some theme night. Drink finally in hand she ducked under an arm and around a drunken couple. She stood against the wall, taking in the scene, all the while looking for his face. She could pick him out of a thousand strong crowd, and tonight was no exception. Though it had taken her longer than most nights she had spotted him in his white shirt, standing at the opposite end of the bar, ordering a drink. Now that she knew he was there she felt happier, she could take her time and bump into him, accidentally of course, during the night somewhere. First however she had to test her skills.
Coming up behind the guys in black and green, she placed her hand on the lower back of one, her body close to his. “Hey Jordan.” He turned to her and wrapped his arm around her waist.
“Hey you. Having a good night?”
“Yeah, so far. Hey, where’s my kiss?” Sophie turned her head and pointed towards her cheek. Jordan leaned in and kissed her skin. “That’s better! So what’s with the get up?”
“What? This?” He indicated his outfit.
“Yeah,” she replied “is it national Kiwi day and no one told me?” Jordan laughed.
“Nah, nothing like that. Ya see that guy?” He pointed to a guy Sophie recognised who had gelled black hair, a red bandana and what looked like home-made nun chucks “well it’s his 21st, and we’re all dressed as the Ninja Turtles for it.”
“So he’s Raphael? Which would make you…” she put her hand on his chest and pushed him back slightly, looking at him from head to toe, taking in the costume “…Michelangelo?”
“COWABUNGA!”
“DUDE!!!” They laughed together. “Oh, can’t believe I still remember that. Michelangelo was always my favourite though.” Looking up at him, she winked. She moved her hands to his arm and trailed the orange ribbon through her fingers, brushing his bare skin and running her hand down his bicep. She put her arms around his neck to hug him, taking his hand in her own when she pulled back. “Come dance with me later?”
“Yeah, sure.” She gave him a peck on the lips and turned to walk away. Still holding her hand he brought her back to him and pulled her in closer.
“That all I get?” he asked, looking into her eyes.
“’Fraid so,” she said, giving him a cheeky grin. “See ya later.” She walked away from him, going in the opposite direction to where she knew Noah was standing. She didn’t want to run into him just yet, it was too early. She found the girls where she had left them on the dance-floor so she joined in. Ruby, Sophie’s best friend since the first month of first year, took her hand, squeezed it and mouthed ‘Stop thinking about him.’ Nodding back at her, they both kept dancing. However knowing Noah was bound to be somewhere nearby, she kept letting her eyes drift to the sides of the club, to his normal haunts, occasionally spotting one of his friends but never him. Each time she brought her focus back into the circle she could see Ruby giving her that look, the one she reserved to tell Sophie ‘he’s not worth it, pay attention to us’. Sophie tried to, but after six or seven songs she made an excuse and left the close circle. Weaving her way through the throng she felt a hand on her wrist, turning around she saw it was Jordan. He had definitely had a lot more to drink since she had seen him earlier in the night.