Random Writing Friday, Aug 27 2010

The writer surveyed his surroundings with a keen interest.  From the child’s toolbelt strapped carefully onto the table to the pile of dishes that awaited their routine clean.  He took a contented sigh and began to type, slowly at first, but gaining in speed.  The words flowed forth from him as though taking on a life of their own.  At first he felt in control, but after a while the sentences seemed to flow naturally from one into the other without needing so much as a gentle nudge in the right direction.

This was living for the writer.  The world around him reduced to a single line of text.  A single string of letters held loosely into a solo form representing so many emotions and feelings.  This was the power of words.

Power.  He pondered the word for a moment, mulling over how poiniant it was.  He tried to take an example as he wrote.  Home.  A word which even though it is only a solo word, conjures up images of family and of happiness.  A word that inspires feelings of warmth and excitement.  And within seconds he was absorbed in the word, lost in its being.  He could smell the gentle scent of baking in the oven and the soft humming of his mother soon filled his ears.  It was then at the hint of sadness took over.

These were not his images of home that took over his thoughts.   His mother didn’t bake, and rarely had a song on her lips.  His home wasn’t particularly cold, but didn’t inspire warmth either.  He figured that was the curse of a writer, being able to fully immerse yourself in fantasy.  And that was his downfall.  His expectation for more.

Since a child, the writer had felt incomplete.  He likened it to christmas eve, that anxious excitement at the future prospects.  But this anitipation had no relief.  He could not quench this desire for more than what he had, some higher meaning or purpose.  And by the time of his humble writings, he had learnt that this feeling would forever be a part of him.

Leave a Response »

 

Inspired Writing – Priestess Saturday, Nov 14 2009

Rather than dive head first into planning, I figured it’d be easier for me to start with a piece of inspired writing.  I took the image from the Gilded Tarot set, then wrote based on what I saw.  Comment and tell me what you think.  If you’d like to email me with your own writings based on this particular image, please do so at: colinr1993@live.co.uk

The Priestess (Gilded Tarot)

I pulled the curtain open with my left hand, fingers scraping along the rough fabric as I stepped through the breach.  I moved slowly, waiting for my eyes to adjust to the dim light.  The cave slowly appeared around me, the low tunnel from which I had come climbing away behind me.  I looked upwards, following the walls as they rose high above me; doming into a craggy summit some 30 feet above me.

Before me was an altar of marble, adorned in a crimson fabric and twinkling softly.  Embroidered into the cloth was a burning sun, golden oranges and yellows radiating from the center.  Two candles were atop the cloth, silver and gold lit with small flames.  Behind it a pool of water, shallow at its edges and deepening as it stretches into the cavern.

A spray of water jetted upwards from the center of the pool, splashing against the surface of the pool as it plummeted back down.  Rising from the water was a slender feminine figure, draped in a moon fabric dusted with starlight.  Her body glimmered in the dim light, the perfect angles of her form illuminated beautifully.  She held her head down, her long black hair hanging gracefully about her shoulders.  As she walked toward me, I saw that she was perfectly dry, not even the faintest hint at the water she had just been in.

“What is your will?  What do you ask?  The past or future, what is my task?”  She spoke softly, not once raising her head.  I stared for a moment, enraptured by her beauty and stunned entirely into silence.  Everything about her enchanted me and for a period of time immeasurable – it could have been seconds, though hours seems just as likely – I was fixated on her and nothing but her.

“We need an answer.”  Barius stepped forward from behind me, the sound of his voice shaking me from my trance.  The weight of his armor pulled on his tunic, tensing the fabric almost to the point of tearing.  As he got closer to the shimmering vision before me, he seemed to stand taller, his vanished strength replenished.  His armor seemed lighter, carried by the air itself, and the fabric of his tunic became loose and free.

“Ask for what you truly seek, the truth alone will I then speak.”  She began to sway from side to side, her hair blowing lazily in the light breeze.  The thin piece of fabric that covered her body waved slightly in the same breeze, adding an otherworldly quality to her.  Barius seemed entrance for a moment, captured by her beauty and transfixed entirely.  After a moment he shook himself back and turned toward me.  He stepped back and bowed his head, it was I who was to do the asking.

“The burned flower, the white horse.  What is this all to do with and what does it have to do with me?”  The words fell from my mouth before I had a chance to think about it.  It wasn’t just about me, but I needed to know.  The image of the flower flashed in my mind, the smell of burning flesh and the sound of the gentle dripping as the blood spattered onto the stone floor.  I shuddered, trying to repress the thoughts as they surfaced.  Looking to the priestess my eyes slowly rising up they came face to face with the priestess herself.

Her eyes were a deep blue, a swirling pool of azure.  They had a dark essence to them, a further understanding that I couldn’t comprehend.  As she looked at me, it felt as though she could see right into my soul, right down into the very center of my being.  It was a chilling feeling, and yet still strangely calming.  Like all the burden of the past few weeks was lifted from my shoulders, and yet I didn’t want to be parted from it.  It was my burden to bear and without it I felt void of purpose.  Like what had happened had no reason anymore.  It was painfully uncomfortable.

“I’ll do as you plea, but mark me here.  What I find shall not end fear.  The truth behind the words I’ll say, will merely set you on your way.  The quest begins upon this night, but will end in naught but plight.”  Her lips formed each word carefully, the words leaving her mouth slowly and dancing lightly across the air.  She turned away from me, back toward the water.  She took each step determined and purposefully.  The water slowly rose up around her, wrapping her in itself and then crashing to the surface of the water leaving not a single trace that she had even been there.

Leave a Response »

 

Introduction Wednesday, Oct 28 2009

Hey, this is obviously a “Fantasy World Building” blog (hence the web address).  World building can be used to many different things, RPG games, novels, or just for fun.  This will be focused around world building for novel writing, but many of the things I go through will be applicable to any use for your finished world.

Each blog post will try to cover something unique or different to what comes before or after it.  Sometimes I might only do half a task and wait until the next blog post to complete it, but it will all become clear when you read the title of each post.  Follow what I do, change the things you don’t like, and soon you’ll have a world of your very own to use for however you wish.

Please comment with answers to any of the questions I raise, or with your own questions and issues.  I’m happy to help in any way I can.  I want to point out, this is a learning curve for me as well, I’ll be learning how to do this as I write it, not all of my ideas will pan out, neither will all of yours.  World building is all about trial and error.

Thanks for reading this blog post, I hope it helps you out

Leave a Response »