Bookishness And Other Issues

    It is a truth universally acknowledged that writing is hard.

    If Jane Austen hadn’t written that quote about romance, she would certainly have written it about the difficulties of writing itself. Of course, nothing worthwhile is easy, but it’s really quite frustrating how often I find myself struggling to be satisfied with something I’ve written, or even to get past Chapter Three (trust me, it’s a real problem.) So I decided it would be a decent idea to discuss How To Get Unstuck. (Not that I’m an expert in any way whatsoever.)

    Sidenote: I’m currently in the middle of concocting a series on Discovering the Truth in Popular Media (take a look at my Reviews page for more spoilers!) but because of my Rather Busy Schedule the first post has not yet been completed. So in between reading Summa Theologica and practicing violin studiously I read Lizzie’s lovely post on first drafts, and decided the idea of sharing short snippets of writing is an excellent one. (Thanks, Lizzie!) 

    Now, onto the Unsticking Methods. 

    I find that the easiest way to get inspired is to read something else. It doesn’t matter what it is, just read something else to get out of your world and into someone else’s. It’s okay to be inspired by someone else’s work. Don’t plagiarise, of course, but the greatest writers (and composers!) learned from copying what those before them did. Shakespeare ripped off Romeo and Juliet from the lesser-known Pyramus and Thisbe in Ovid’s Metamorphoses (which also features in A Midsummer Night’s Dream). Tolkien was inspired heavily by Welsh and Celtic mythology, including Beowulf and the Elder Edda. That’s the beauty of the Cauldron of Story, as Tolkien named it. All fairy-stories and tales have their origins someplace, and often they share many elements. 

    For example. (Examples are lovely things, aren’t they? Just like metaphors, only more reliable.) Remember that first chapter I shared a while back, ambiguously titled Seller of Dreams (ambiguously because the prologue has nothing whatsoever to do with dreams or selling.) Well, I was a bit stuck on What To Do Next, until I watched the Hunger Games for the first time (another post to come on that soon.) Obviously I can’t copy that—it wouldn’t be mine, and anyway, everyone would know. But the strong character development inspired me. I realised I could do whatever I wanted—and so I did. (My characters will not be pleased once they see what’s in store for them.)

    Another useful thing is sharing your ideas/current drafts with other people. That’s also quite helpful, because sometimes we get wrapped up in our own heads and see the tree instead of the forest, so to speak. And this is where I jump off my little podium, because I’m taking Lizzie’s idea of sharing mini-snippets from my stories. Enjoy, and let me know what you think!

    Everyone knows the black market exists, but no one cares enough to report it. After all it’s where most of us get our basic necessities, like food or clothes. 

Rule 225 in the Book of Common Welfare: the people shall receive only what they need, in exchange for goods provided to the Council. All distribution shall be just and fair.

Yeah, right. They make us memorise a stupid list of rules and then proceed to disregard them anyway. Perfect way to lose control of an already fragile system.

I allow myself a small smile before opening the hatch and slipping down the dark candle-lit stairs. If They so much as catch me thinking those kinds of thoughts, my whole family will be executed. And I’ll be left to watch them die.

Seller of Dreams, Chapter 1

    She emerges with a spongy foodish thing on a platter. Candles are set around the rim, and I vaguely wonder how they’re not falling off. I stare blankly at it, fighting a rather strong urge to poke it. 

Mairin notes my disillusionment and laughs. “It’s a cake, Eithryn. A pastry for special occasions.”

“And how many Aurean did it take to get it?” I ask dubiously. She laughs again. 

“Better not to ask those kinds of questions.”

I nod, still doubtful, but take the glorified sponge (don’t you dare look at me like that, I’m just being honest) in recitant hands. 

Seller of Dreams, Chapter 1

    Rule 1 in the Book of Common Welfare (as written and approved by the Council for the unquestioning obedience of all persons under their rule): Never, under any circumstance, is any citizen of Arinae to question the will of the Council. 

Seller of Dreams, Chapter 2

   If I could do everything over again, I would never have made the choices that led me here. But then again, I’m not sure I was ever offered that particular chance. 

    All very well to think about it, but thoughts are not enough. Not when you’re hanging off a jagged cliff, trying not to fall to your death and attempting to avoid being shot.

    Lovely way to spend the morning, isn’t it?

The Red Sun Rises, Chapter 1

    The Complete History of England And Her Monarchs (volume twelve, third edition) misses a collision with my brother’s eye by mere millimetres. He sidesteps the flying volume neatly as it slams on the ground behind him, then turns (unimpressed) to meet my steady gaze. I have been told (on good authority) that I have a somewhat daunting glare, but Edmund just raises an eyebrow at my fury. “Are you done yet?”

Ere Darkness Fall, Chapter 1

    Well, there it is. I hope you enjoyed all of this… let me know!

    What are your thoughts on writers’ block? Do you have any troublesome main characters that just won’t cooperate? 

——

Namarië, 

Astrya

Inklings | April Edition

     Greetings! I recently stumbled across Heidi’s wonderful Inklings series at Along the Brandywine, and thought it would be wonderful to try it out. (Also, it doesn’t hurt that the name of my blog is Inkling Corner, now does it?) 

    Anyhow, the rules are As Follows: At any time during the month, on your own blog post a scene from a book or film that matches the prompt, including a link back here in your post. Then, leave a link to your entry in the comments section on the host website. That's it!

April's prompt is:

A scene with a cake in book or film

Are these traditional cakes? No. Am I unashamedly using them instead of the perfectly wondrous creation that is Bilbo’s birthday cake in The Lord of the Rings? Yes.

    Now, this a bit of a tricky one. A lot of the best ones I know of (like Anne’s famous cake recipe in Anne of Green Gables) have already been taken, so I did a Bit Of Thinking. And of course (really by this point you should have expected it) my mind went rather quickly to Bilbo’s Unexpected Feast in The Hobbit. Poor Bilbo! He couldn’t possibly have imagined, while eating that delicious cake of his, what was about to happen to him. 

‘Gandalf in the meantime was still standing outside the door, and laughing long but quietly. After a while he stepped up, and with the spike on his staff scratched a queer sign on the hobbit’s beautiful green front-door. Then he strode away, just about the time when Bilbo was finishing his second cake and beginning to think that he had escaped adventures very well.

The next day he had almost forgotten about Gandalf. He did not remember things very well, unless he put them down on his Engagement Tablet: like this: Gandalf Tea Wednesday. Yesterday he had been too flustered to do anything of the kind.

Just before tea-time there came a tremendous ring on the front-door bell, and then he remembered! He rushed and put on the kettle, and put out another cup and saucer, and an extra cake or two, and ran to the door.

“I am so sorry to keep you waiting!” he was going to say, when he saw that it was not Gandalf at all. It was a dwarf with a blue beard tucked into a golden belt, and very bright eyes under his dark-green hood. As soon as the door was opened, he pushed inside, just as if he had been expected.

He hung his hooded cloak on the nearest peg, and “Dwalin at your service!” he said with a low bow.

“Bilbo Baggins at yours!” said the hobbit, too surprised to ask any questions for the moment. When the silence that followed had become uncomfortable, he added: “I am just about to take tea; pray come and have some with me.” A little stiff perhaps, but he meant it kindly. And what would you do, if an uninvited dwarf came and hung his things up in your hall without a word of explanation?

They had not been at table long, in fact they had hardly reached the third cake, when there came another even louder ring at the bell.

“Excuse me!” said the hobbit, and off he went to the door.’

J.R.R. Tolkien, The Hobbit

    This is a lovely, whimsical, and entirely under-appreciated scene for many reasons. Firstly, there are not one, not two, but three cakes which make an appearance—and of course there is the rather hilarious mater (not to Bilbo, but we can ignore that for the moment) of the dwarves devouring the entirety of the (rather sturdy) hobbit’s larders (he has three).  

Credit to New Line Cinema

    An incredible feat, if you ask me. Which no one has, but who’s to say I can’t volunteer my opinion anyway? 

    Ahem. Anyhow, that’s my little contribution for the day. Take it or leave it, as you will, but I hope you enjoyed it! 

Bilbo would like to add that he is still Not Pleased with the outcome of that particular series of Unexpected Visits. He spent the next five years after returning replenishing his stocks, and they are still nowhere near their former glory. (He blames Bombur). 

____

Namarië, 

Astrya

From Daybreak to Evening

    Greetings! I hope all of you had a lovely Easter last weekend. As difficult as it is to transition from such a momentous and wonderful thing as Christ’s resurrection to, well—to anything, I decided that now is as good a time as any to share a poem I scrambled together in the last week. 

    For context, I was reading a short story of Tolkien’s, entitled Smith of Wootton Major. It tells the tale of a young blacksmith’s son who swallows a star from the land of Faery in a piece of Feast-cake. He was always a quiet lad, but he becomes merrier, brighter, and goes on long journeys here and there. Eventually he finds Faery-land, but must give up his star (which sits proudly on his forehead) to the king. It’s a beautiful yet bittersweet story, and I highly suggest reading it if you haven’t yet. 

    And now, without further ado, here’s the poem. 

  

From Daybreak to Evening

“You must have walked far.”

“Yes indeed; all the way from Daybreak to Evening.”

J.R.R. Tolkien, Smith of Wootton Major

When I was young I wandered far

from daybreak to the edge of night

my guiding light an Elven-star

through darkness it shone bright

in an age gone by I walked the path

of shining sky and starry seas

with wonder saw the fire’s wrath

in setting sun beneath the trees

I journeyed far through stream and hill

and danced with golden flowered light

that yet I think there lingers still

though the World since fell to night

but now my Elven guiding-star

has left I know not where

I have wandered here and far

from break of day to evening there

now starlit sky meets midnight sea

and here my journey’s end does lie

under shade of hill and tree

where the shining sea joins the sky.

Farewell, guiding star! My road has ended here

in Faery-land, that starry place

that ever I held dear. 

____

Namarië, 

Astrya