The Writer began with a misunderstanding. I was ten, maybe eleven years old, and I went to the cinema with a few of my friends and their parents. And you know those movie trailers they play before the actual movie starts? Well, one of them was for Secret Window, a movie based on a short story by Stephen King. And I didn’t really get the idea behind the movie. I thought it was something else, which for the sake of spoilers I won’t mention. For whatever reason, this idea stuck with me, and a few years later, when I saw the movie, I realized that it wasn’t about what I thought it would be. Not at all.
So I said to myself, “Now I have an idea for a story.” Of course, I did nothing about it. Teenagers who pretend to be writers like to wait for a right time to write a story. They want to live a bit, to know more about the world, to be better writers, before they embark on such a treacherous journey. Like that character in The Snows on Kilimanjaro. Anyway, I wrote other stuff, gave up writing for a couple of years, then I began writing again.
And I wrote this story. A second person, present tense narrative about a writer. It was about 7 to 8 thousand words long. Continue reading
She looked happy as she danced, twisting and twirling her waist and hips, and bending her legs as if to ride on the sonic waves of the trumpet. It was as if she was controlling the rhythm, as if her movements were the driving force behind that jazz song.
When the tune ended, Amber smiled, a strange, crazy smile, and said, “Will you take me home? Will you stay with me tonight? I don’t want to be alone.” Continue reading
It’s free stuff weekend here at the Cristian Mihai Blog (yeah, I never got around to naming this place in any way whatsoever) so there’s more free stuff to be announce.
Just in case you missed it, you can download a free e-book copy of the best essays ever posted on this blog from irevuo’s e-store here.
Also, you can download my first novel, Jazz, from Amazon.com for free here. Reviews are appreciated, but not mandatory.
And now, some more free stuff:
This. A bundle containing four paperbacks, all of them nicely signed. FREE.
I have a bunch of them around the house, and I am in the process of creating new editions, all with irevuo’s branding and new interior layouts and all that.
You can order them here.
More free stuff to come,
Writing a story resembles a journey, but neither the destination, nor the way we reach that destination are of any importance. What matters most is our ability to stop, look around, and ask ourselves, “Do I have to go any farther?”
It’s what makes us human: we are able to test the world around us, to learn, to evolve, to adapt.
This also means that we never find what we are looking for, our journey never ends. We’re wanderers, hopelessly trying to reach a destination with the vague hope of finding that elusive grandeur, that feeling that what we’re writing is perfect or close to perfect. Continue reading
The thing that makes you exceptional, if you are at all, is inevitably that which must also make you lonely. – Lorraine Hansberry
Most people loathe solitude. Silence. The empty room. Nothing but their minds for company…
But, to paraphrase John Steinbeck, all great and precious things are built in solitude. They grow out of it. The struggle of having to tame your thoughts, to concentrate on the task at hand, to decide every minute of every day what’s important, what must be done, despite what you feel you should be doing. Continue reading
For any aspiring writer, a rejection letter, regardless of the provenience of said letter, is one of the most dreaded of objects. In this line of work getting rejected is considered a sort of literary murder – people are knowingly destroying something you’ve spent time on, and a lot of it. But the thing is everyone got rejected, more or less. I can think of very few instances when writers found publishers/agents from the first try. Or the second, or the tenth. Continue reading
“Most people will spend their lives doing jobs that they don’t particularly enjoy, and will eventually save up enough money to stop doing those jobs just in time to start dying instead. Don’t be one of those people. There’s a difference between living, and just surviving. Do something that you love, and find someone to love who loves that you love what you do.
It really is that simple.
And that hard.” – John Connolly
I believe that most of us crave adventure. We want our lives to make us feel. We crave the bittersweet excitement brought on by uncertainty.
But we also want safety. And comfort. Just enough.
We are torn between “more” and “just enough.”