Tuesday, 29 May 2012

I'm banging my fist against a door that won't open...

     Writers block…what can I say about writers block; well to start every writer will at some point experience the numbing, irrational dread of writers block and if there is a writer out there who hasn’t at least felt the terrifying tingle then I would love to know their secret. Writers block is, as defined by the Oxford English dictionary, the condition of being unable to think of what to write or how to proceed with writing. It can last from 12 minutes to 2 years, or even longer; it is the disease of writers, rendering us helpless; depressed and angry. It’s a phenomena, an enigma of the mind and if you haven’t had it, yet, than you probably like me and many others simply do not believe in it or maybe we do not want to believe in it after all it is a terrifying thought not being able to write a word, to do what we love the most. Of some consolation is the fact that even the great have suffered, Stephen King once admitted to ‘feeling like one of his characters’ when writers block settled in ‘the words would not come’ he declared, I’ve been there I know and many of you out there know too. The wasted hours sat staring at a computer screen, begging for a word, an idea, a single cognitive though relating to your work but nothing and nothing comes and I have found that it will not, not while you are forcing it not while you are trying to jam a triangular peg into a circular hole.

     So why is it so frustrating? Other than the fact that writing is you life, there is the fact that every other time of the day and night our mind never stops; it’s always tick-tick ticking away, the cogs are turning and the cuckoo often announces that there is something in need of jotting down at all hours. I have often woken at 2 in the morning and quickly, sleepily written something down, I used to keep a pen and paper by my bed but it became too much of an effort to switch the light on especially when after 20 minutes of trying to get back to sleep and having to write down three more ideas and so I reverted to using my phone instead. Anyway the irritation of writers block is more so because, like I noted earlier, any other time our minds are churning out idea after idea and some are even worth using.

     So why then does it stamp its feet and refuse to create? I found that my mind, it being a creative thing, and I refer to it as a thing as most of the time I feel that it acts as a separate entity to my body, it often runs away with itself and almost always is very stubborn. Trying to tell my mind to do something is like trying to tell a feline to do something, they will at their own leisure whether you like it or not. Therefore I have taken the stance that telling my mind or rather demanding that it develop a paragraph of writing good enough for the page only results the exact opposite; a paragraph worth of nothing other than the recycle bin and eventually non-existance altogether. So when a bout of Writers block attacks I simply walk away whether it be physically or mentally, I close the laptop, put down my pen and leave the room and I busy myself with tasks that do not relate in any way. Now I know what you’re thinking, ‘it doesn’t matter what you do you’re still going to think about it’ this may be true I’ve spent may a lunch time in a haze of writers block not even tasting the food I am eating and I have always found that as soon as I have forgotten it the mind springs back into action like a child begging for attention. So put on your music, dance and sing and forget about it trust me it will come grovelling back halfway through your rendition of ‘Total eclipse of the heart’ and then you will be back at it, writing page after page after page.

   

    

Thursday, 24 May 2012

A Love too good to last

     Marisol and I fell in love instantly, it felt differently to anything I had ever felt before; that day I kissed her on a whim became the most wonderful of my life and sure many people gained fame from it, claiming they were us but we didn’t mind; we had each other. We married only a few months later and stayed in San Francisco, I got a job in a garage and she remained a nurse working with the vets, I couldn’t have been happier, my dark days were behind me, I finally had someone to change for though I could not fully change. I told Marisol everything, nearly everything, the one thing I could not bring myself to tell her was who I truly was; how do you tell your wife that you over centuries old, that you have feasted on every kind of human flesh, children and their mothers, husbands and wives. How do you tell her that you are the bogey man, the dark shadow every child fears and sings about, the monster in the wardrobe, under the bed waiting to pounce and swallow you up. No, I could not tell her though my plan was flawed; I do not age, I do not die, I do not get ill nor do I suffer greatly from injury I am in-human, a monster, a myth; I could not break her heart. Yes I knew that one day she would notice that something was wrong and I knew that I would have to tell her then but I decided that I would deal with that when I came to it and I hoped that it would not be for many years and this worked perfectly; she may have noticed that my hair did not grey, that wrinkled did not crisscross my face, my bones did not begin to ache and that I did not suffer from disease or virus but she never mentioned it, she simply loved me.

    Our love flourished for 20 years, no children were ever bore but we were happy as far as I know I am unable to father a child, probably a good thing. Instead we owned many pets great and small and we built a beautiful home. Marisol retired early and opened a florist and we were so happy, so content; I could have remained that way forever unfortunately it was not to be and fate once again intervened in my life, punishing me for many a life time of sins.  

     I didn’t retire, though we had the money, I have accumulated quite a bit over the many years of my life but I didn’t want to retire I wanted to keep every human thing I could, grip hold of it and keep it close this was to be my downfall. On a normal day my whole world was crushed, literally, I had been working on a car when the lever had given way, the car plunged down upon me, it crushed my entire middle, I could not breath, I tasted the iron of blood in my mouth and upon my lips and I thought I was actually going to die. Usually I would have been happy, I would have welcomed this but on that day I begged not to, I had gained everything I wanted and I was not ready to give it up and I did not. An injury that would have killed a normal human being with-in seconds did not take my life; I was rushed to the hospital, operated upon and watched over by my love and I woke up though my chances had been dire. I recovered in record time, I baffled doctors and geniuses and I terrified my wife. When I returned home I knew something had changed, she did not want my touch, she did not even want to look upon me and I could see the terror in her eyes,

“what are you?” she asked me gravely and I so desperately wanted to lie, fain shock and confusion but I loved her too much to do that and so I told her the truth, I began with the beginning, I watched as her face turned from terror to disgust to shock and disbelief, from anger and heartbreak to rage and to nothing. Counted the tears as they streamed down her face and I had to hold myself back from embracing her in my arms. She had asked me why and I knew to what she referred, why had I let her fall in love with me, make a life with me but I could not answer her. I wanted to make her feel better, I wanted her to turn to me and say she didn’t care, she didn’t care that I had consumed enough humans to start a small country, that she didn’t care that I was never going to grow old but she did not. Instead she walked away from me, my heart shattered into a thousand pieces and I fell to my knees.

     I remained on my knees until she returned, in her hand was my suitcase,

“you leave tonight and I never hear from you ever again, do you understand? She had asked

“yes” I answered knowing that there was nothing I could do or say to change her mind, “why” I had added and she knew what I was asking

“because no matter how hard I try or how much you revolt me I love you, loved you, now leave” she said a single set of tears toughed at her eyes, millions fell from mine. I took my case and I left, I left the country the next morning and returned back to England, my heart was broken, my soul had shrivelled and I could feel a familiar tugging with-in my stomach.

     Marisol died 10 years later, cancer took her, I had never gone against her wish, though I did occasionally look to see what she was doing; she never re-married, never found love again, though she did remain a successful florist. I went to her funeral, hung back in the shadows and watched from afar, I did not cry, I think by then I could no longer cry but I missed her, I place a single yellow rose upon her grave when she had been left by her mourners and said once more how sorry I was for all I had done before I met her, for all I had done to her, for all I had done since I had left her and for all I would do.        

Friday, 11 May 2012

Polyvore

I'm a writer, mostly fictional, and often I find it useful to have an image of the thing I'm writing about in my mind for example the bedroom or the way someone dresses and I've found one particular website helpful; Polyvore. This website allows people to create inspiration boards for pretty much everything and I used it mainly for inspiration but I was not a member nor did I create. Then one day I decided why not, I'm naturally creative and so I joined up, for free, and began creating. What dawned on me the other day while I was creating a 'winter wedding' inspiration board, is that this website is pure genius...for those men who do not have a clue. One simple look on you're girlfriend/wife's polvore and you'll be able to find that dress that she wants, that perfect engagement ring, set of earrings and most importantly that pair of shoes she's been craving. A woman need never make discreet hints or leave magazines lying around conveniently open at the page, we need not be disappointed with the gift we gets; not that we don't appreciate them but we'd rather the pair of shoes we just saw in the shop window.

So head over to www.polyvore.com create an account and get creating.
Sent from my BlackBerry® smartphone on O2

Thursday, 3 May 2012

The world at war...again

Every so often the world, our world is plunged into darkness and the good have to fight, they have to go to battle and those who may not have seen eye to eye in the past have to join together and stand side by side on the bloody battle field, 1939 was a year of great darkness. The world had already survived one world war and people had just gotten used to the idea that everything was okay when whispers of war began to spread. I had high tailed it back to England, a new identity and a new life ready when I heard, I saw women hysterical in the street, men and boys lining up once again to fight and children quiet with confusion. Now I know that I could write this whole account without once mentioning the name of the man who spawned this war because his name is so well known, so well taught and well spoken and that name is Adolf Hitler.  Adolf Hitler was born on 20th April 1889 to an Austrian father who he despised and a German Mother who, some people have theorised, was to blame for his unimaginable god complex. His dream was one of Art and he applied to many art collages, all rejected his applications leaving him penniless and selling hand-made postcards in Vienna this subsequently led him to become involved in much political activity; you might be wondering how I know this, I lived a lot of your history yet I cannot tell you the birth date of many great figures, Hitler was something else and I will tell all later on. Now back to Adolf’ rise to power; Hitler left Austria to evade military service and ended up in Germany where the course of his life changed forever, he signed up to fight in the first world war. After the first world war he became involved in the political publicity of the German workers party which he renamed the National Socialist German Workers Party (Nazi for short) he soon became the leader for the party and remained so until he was imprisoned. However once released he re-found the party after this things began to snowball, he became a German citizen, then chancellor and then after a fire and a general election Hitler’s cabinet was given power making him a virtual dictator; this is where he declares the Nazi party the only political party permitted in Germany. From this individual German states lost power and Nazi officials became state governors.      Still with me? I’m getting there but to understand what happened to me you have to know the history, know the man who nearly brought a world to its knees.  Now I don’t want you to think that I have forgotten my legacy, that of the bogeyman but I have lived for so long that the event of the world have knocked me from my pathway, I find my way back eventually though, so bare with me.  
     Over the next 2 years Hitler banned the communist party, socialist, trade unions and strikes; he withdrew from the league of nations and somehow trebled the size of the German army, he eliminated his rivals became Fuehrer and Reich chancellor of Germany, abolished the title of president and in order to unite the German peoples he rearmed Germany and introduced Military conscription.
     Some people say that the British Prime Minister was na├»ve to think that he could negotiate with Hitler and some people knew this for a fact but it didn’t stop Britain, France and Italy signing the Munich agreement, handing Sudetenland to Germany. Then came Crystal Night: 7,500 Jewish shops were destroyed and 400 synagogues are burnt, all orchestrated by the Nazi party who also sent 20,000 Jews to concentration camps. After this the Nazis spread like a plague and on 3rd September 1939 two day after the German army invaded Poland and refused to withdraw, British Prime minister Neville Chamberlain announced that the country was at war, similarly France also gave the Germans an ultimatum, one which was also ignored causing France to also declare war. I remember where I was that day when the announcement rang out across the airways; I knew it was coming, so many did and yet when it came my heart hurt so much I thought it might actually stop, no such luck. I join up as soon as I could, I had a lot to make up for, a lot to repent for. In 1940 the man that saved the world stepped up as British prime minister, Winston Churchill, we couldn’t have done it without him.
     I met many people during the war, young boys and bereft mothers, I met German troops terrified for their lives, they just wanted to go home; young boys dragged into a war they didn’t want to fight by a twisted man. I met Hitler once, that’s where this story was going, right before he died, I had been captured and tortured and he had been alerted to the fact that I was something different and he wanted me, like a child demanding to have a toy, he wanted to keep my like a possession. I sat a cross from him one night, at a table and listened to him able on and on about life, he seemed almost euphoric, convinced that he was going to win even as his world was being torn down; he was this deluded man with an ego that had been fed so much there was barely room for anything else. Where I had felt despise and hatred I felt sorry for him, he was pathetic, sat in this grand room with his own image 12ft high on the wall, with red and gold draped around him and still he was so sad. I wonder now what might have been different if he had been accepted into art school, how the world might have been different or maybe he was destined to do what he did.
      Then war was declared on America, Pearl Harbour happened, more tragedy and more death, I thought about the friends I had left, wondered if they were there ready to fight. it was the Americans who saved me, not that I wouldn’t have just waited, waited until he had run, like a roach from the day light. Hitler had hightailed it when the American had invaded; all I remember was the sound of their accent, I saw their guns before I saw them. After that it was all a blur, Hitler killed himself, the war was diminishing again, millions of lives had been lost, had been taken and millions had to begin the fight to repair, to return to a relative normalcy. I stayed with the troops who had saved me, went back to America, but it was far from over, Japan was still raging a war with America and I chose to fight with them. You would think that I had had my share of fighting but I owed them, the fight didn’t last much longer and three months after the war in Europe had ended America declared victory over Japan. All over the world was celebrating, it was united in victory, we had defeated one of the most evil men to have ever breathed but now we had to start again.
     Now is where I get to the part you will all sit and go ‘oh my god, that was you’, the 15th August 1945, VJ-Day, Time Square, New York. I was stood amongst a mass of people celebrating, victory had been announced, I stood overwhelmed by the sheer euphoria and elation, I saw a woman in the crowd, with eyes so blue they twinkled as tears of happiness rolled down over her blushed cheeks, her lips were painted with a deep red and her hair was made up perfectly, she was a nurse, walking alone through the street; in that second I acted on impulse it was a time to take a chance; I walked over, she smiled at me unawares; I kissed her and together we created one of the most iconic imaged of the 1940s. Many people have claimed to be that nurse, that sailor, that couple and I have let them, I did not feel the need to stand up, from that moment I gained something much more precious, a gained the love of a woman, I gained happiness.