There is a prompt in The Writer's Idea Book by Jack Heffron, in which you picture your twelve year old self and come up with a list of questions they would ask you about the future and your future self. Next, you're supposed to answer those questions. It's a really neat prompt, and I had a lot of fun with it. It also got me to thinking about what kind of advice I'd give my younger self if I got the chance. So, I wrote it down. I highly suggest you try this exercise for yourselves (as well as pick up The Writer's Idea Book and give it a try), but in the mean time, here is my own list of advice for my twelve year old self.
1. Start saving money. Immediately. The world is going to get way more expensive, and it will be a lot harder to get started. Start saving for your down payment now, because fourteen years from now you'll have a mortgage, a dog and a job that doesn't pay as well as it needs to, and you're going to wish you had a lot more money put aside.
2. Don't listen to your auntie when you tell her you want to be a writer and she tells you they don't make any money and that you should do something else. The other careers you end up in don't make any money either and they don't make you happy. Stick with writing, you're going to end up there anyway. Your love of the written word doesn't fade over time, it just keeps growing. It's okay to follow the impossible dream.
3. If the popular girls don't like you, you're doing something right. I know you already know that, but I just wanted to let you know that you're proven right later on. Because you have a wonderful husband and a great life, and they're knocked up with multiple strangers' babies. Or in rehab.
4. Be ambitious. Don't look for the easy career, the quick fix or the simple answer. Dig deep. You have a lot of potential, so don't give up, tap into it!
5. I know everyone thinks you're lazy and that you have a bad attitude, but you're not and you don't. Well, it's kind of true (and that doesn't change), but not when it comes to the things you really want. Figure out what you want and go for it! Believe me, you'll work yourself near to death for the things you love. And if you start now, there's no limit to what you'll accomplish.
That's just a few pieces of the advice I'd give my younger self. And you know what? They're applicable now, too. What would you tell your younger self?
Showing posts with label writing prompts. Show all posts
Showing posts with label writing prompts. Show all posts
Monday, August 27, 2012
Wednesday, May 30, 2012
The Wattpad Workshop
I don't know if any of my fellow writers out there are the same as me, but I find that if I don't challenge myself frequently (with courses, workshops, writing prompts, etc), then my ambition grows stagnant. I don't feel the urge or the inspiration to write, and my time gets taken over by other things. Suddenly, I'll realize it's been weeks, even months, since I wrote anything.
So, in an effort to prevent laziness and boredom from taking over, I've decided to take part in Alice Kuipers Wattpad Workshop. She's doing a series, the first of which deals with inspiration and writer's block. We're only one week in but I already love it. Our writing prompt for this week was to write from the perspective of someone who's had a brain injury in the part of the brain that controls imagination and ideas. I had so much fun writing it that I thought I'd share it with you. Let me know what you think!
The clock is ticking in the corner. I look at it, try to feel something for the sound it makes. I can remember vaguely a sensation I used to feel when I heard it, the way it used to stir things inside me, things I can now no longer recall.
I sit up and shake my head, turning to stare out the window instead. The rain is pelting down against the window, showering the grass and sidewalk in waves. The sky is grey. The clouds heavy, hovering just above the trees. An optical illusion, I tell myself, as I watch the rain fall.
The feeling of familiarity remains. Rain used to create a similar reaction to the ticking of the clock. But there is no stirring inside, no rush of emotions. Instead, it is simply pretty.
The drops of rain thud against the roof, the percussive sound joining with the clock. Occasionally, the crack of thunder adds its bellow and I sit, listening as I stare out the window.
James should have been home by now. He said he's be home from the gym by four o'clock. His workouts had grown longer and more frequent since I'd come home from hospital, one of the many, almost imperceptible changes in our relationship since the accident.
I would catch him watching me with a strange look in his eye, one I didn't recognize. I know I'd changed. He'd told me so. And there were the feelings of longing, of loss for something I couldn't identify.
I realized it was possible that he was no longer at the gym, that he'd never gone there to begin with. I knew there must be a reason why he wasn't home when he said he'd be. But I couldn't for the life of me think of what it could be. So, I sit and wait, wondering why I feel so empty inside.
There we have it! As always, your thoughts and comments are welcome in the comments section (and are greatly appreciated!) I hope you enjoyed my little attempt, and are enjoying this slightly fiction heavy week. Have a great day!
So, in an effort to prevent laziness and boredom from taking over, I've decided to take part in Alice Kuipers Wattpad Workshop. She's doing a series, the first of which deals with inspiration and writer's block. We're only one week in but I already love it. Our writing prompt for this week was to write from the perspective of someone who's had a brain injury in the part of the brain that controls imagination and ideas. I had so much fun writing it that I thought I'd share it with you. Let me know what you think!
The clock is ticking in the corner. I look at it, try to feel something for the sound it makes. I can remember vaguely a sensation I used to feel when I heard it, the way it used to stir things inside me, things I can now no longer recall.
I sit up and shake my head, turning to stare out the window instead. The rain is pelting down against the window, showering the grass and sidewalk in waves. The sky is grey. The clouds heavy, hovering just above the trees. An optical illusion, I tell myself, as I watch the rain fall.
The feeling of familiarity remains. Rain used to create a similar reaction to the ticking of the clock. But there is no stirring inside, no rush of emotions. Instead, it is simply pretty.
The drops of rain thud against the roof, the percussive sound joining with the clock. Occasionally, the crack of thunder adds its bellow and I sit, listening as I stare out the window.
James should have been home by now. He said he's be home from the gym by four o'clock. His workouts had grown longer and more frequent since I'd come home from hospital, one of the many, almost imperceptible changes in our relationship since the accident.
I would catch him watching me with a strange look in his eye, one I didn't recognize. I know I'd changed. He'd told me so. And there were the feelings of longing, of loss for something I couldn't identify.
I realized it was possible that he was no longer at the gym, that he'd never gone there to begin with. I knew there must be a reason why he wasn't home when he said he'd be. But I couldn't for the life of me think of what it could be. So, I sit and wait, wondering why I feel so empty inside.
There we have it! As always, your thoughts and comments are welcome in the comments section (and are greatly appreciated!) I hope you enjoyed my little attempt, and are enjoying this slightly fiction heavy week. Have a great day!
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