Gods

The god of thunder sat in his throne high above the plains of the world, watching it far below. He watched as the clouds formed and moved, and he systematically sent bolts of lightning through to the surface, reaching deep into the core to supply power. His electricity was the fuel upon which the world he observed ran, though the people below had no idea. He had heard whisperings that they believed it ran on internal power which came from the rotation of the planet or some such nonsense.

He had no idea where they got those kinds of ideas.

He found an odd sense of pleasure in watching his work play out on the small planet. He hardly needed to be there. He had set his works in motion, to be able to control themselves, to sense where power was needed and to send them out. At times, this meant that innocents were placed in the path of his bolts, and they may even be killed. But as far as he was concerned, it was of little worry. There were so many people and animals, and they were hit so infrequently, it hardly inconvenienced their history. They would be fine.

"How is the planet going?" came a voice from behind the god. He recognized the voice immediately. It was the goddess of the seas. She was not a fan of her creations being struck by his lightning. He had tried to explain to her on many occasions that his work was vital, and that casualties were unavoidable. She would hear little of it. Yet, somehow, for some reason, she had still married him.

"It is continuing on as usual," he replied. "The core is fully powered. Everything is still in motion, and is set to be in motion for a few thousand of their years."

"And how many of my fish have you killed?"

The thunder god rolled his eyes. "You should know perfectly well. You keep a good enough count of your creatures. Which means you should also know that far more are created on a daily basis than my lightning kills on a yearly one."

"You keep saying that, but you are still ending the lives of my fish before they are intended."

"There is plenty of space for death on this planet. One day, if we are to let things continue on at your pace, there may be too many of the living creatures on this planet. And then you will regret not having let my thunder kill more of them."

"I find that unlikely. Many things would have to go wrong for that to happen."

"Well, those will certainly not be my fault. My systems are well designed. I am doing my job more efficiently than many of the others are."

"I hear that the people below think your lightning is random, unnecessary, and dangerous."

"The people below are ignorant."

The sea goddess and giggled and laid a hand on her husband's shoulder. "So defensive," she said. "Must you always take things so personally?"

"Says the one who accuses me directly of being the downfall of her creations."

Youth

Brandon rubbed his forehead, thinking about the email he had gotten almost a week prior. He had been best friends with Laura when they were younger, but he hadn't seen her in years. He had practically forgotten about her it had been so long.

Her email had come from virtually nowhere. Supposedly she had recently been looking through her old yearbooks and seen a picture of them together. She had forgotten about him, too, but seeing the picture made her feel like she had been missing something. She tried to contact him, but his old info was long dead. It had taken a lot of searching, a lot of pulling strings. But she was able to find him again. 

Laura. The name felt so heavy on Brandon's tongue. The last time they talked he had been 15. He was 33 now. Eighteen years was a long time. A lot about him had changed. He used to like her. Well, obviously he had liked her. They were best friends. But with time, it had become more than that. He liked her a lot. He wanted to spend every waking moment with her, to wrap himself up in her, to love her. He had feared that she wouldn't share the sentiments. In time, that fear had pushed them apart. It was a fairly typical story as far as he was aware. 

But that had been a long time ago. 

He looked up and saw Laura walking toward him, her classic bright smile on her face. Brandon couldn't help but smile back at her. "It's been a long time, Brandy boy," she teased. "Thanks for coming and meeting up with me. It's been a long time. I wouldn't have blamed you if you hadn't."

Brandon shook his head. "You, Laura?" he asked in reply. "I could hardly say no to you. Please, sit down. Talk to me."

Laura giggled and took a seat. "I don't even know where to start. Eighteen years is so long. So much has happened. I just... I don't know, Brandon. There are so many things I want to ask you."

"I know the feeling."

"What do you do now a days? I hope you didn't give up on all that writing you ised to do."

Brandon smiled and scratched his chin. "No, actually," he responded. "I took your advice. I published my third book last year. It took a long time, a lot of work. I spent several years working as a journalist and blogger. But always writing."

Laura giggled and smiled. "I'm glad you never gave up. You were always so good."

"Thanks. What about you?"

Laura laughed out loud. "I ended up on a different path than I expected. I'm a model now."

"No way."

"Hey now. Are you saying I'm not pretty enough to be a model?"

Brandon felt the blood rush to his face. "N-no, it's not that, I just..."

Laura laughed out loud. "God, I forgot how cute you can be."

Brandon's face got even redder at that. "You are so not helping right now."

"I can't believe I never dated you back then."

"Laura!"

The stories of dreams

I go through phases of having a million ideas for stories I want to write down, and not a single thought for what I could possibly be writing. I think most people in any profession would know that sentiment to some extent, so I don't think I need to elaborate too much on that. For the purpose of this discussion, suffice to say that, for me, these phases are a lot like how I dream. And that's a lot more relevant to my writing than it probably sounds.

I don't dream a whole lot. I can have multiple dreams in one night, vivid dreams of both amazing events and terrifying horrors. It's probably a side effect of being a writer. Or maybe being a writer is a side effect of that? Who knows. Point is, when my imagination wants to, it can make some pretty insane and incredible things. But I don't have dreams all that often. I can have a week or two of dream after dream, and then go months without anything but black while I sleep.

In a way, I'm ok with that. Some of the dreams I have are absolutely terrifying. My whole life, I have experienced nightmares that leave me feeling ice cold when I wake up, heart pounding, eyes wide and unsure of where I am or what I should be doing. I have no idea why I have these nightmares. I don't know where they come from, but they have given me fears that I legitimately never had before I dreamed of them.

But I have good dreams, too. I've had some amazing dreams. Dreams of achieving goals I have a thousand fold, dreams of being able to do things no human ever could. I have had dreams that, when I wake up, make me feel more alive, and like I can accomplish things that I never previously thought possible.

And when I have those dreams, I try to write them down. I would say that at least, if not more than half of my story ideas come from dreams. Some of my favorites stories, too. Some of which I've even written down on this blog. One that comes to mind is Wings. That was a dream I had many years ago, and has sat with me for a long time. I never really wrote it down until now, though, at least not as an actual attempt at a story. Not because I didn't want to, but because I wasn't sure that I could do my dream justice.

I wouldn't say that Wings was one of my best works I've done on here. But it was certainly one of my favorites. And it's one that, with more time and refining, I could easily see myself making a full book out of.

In many ways, writing for me is like dreaming. It's not easy to make myself do it every day. Some times it comes out pretty terribly, but sometimes it feels amazing. It comes from places that sometimes I don't fully understand, and yet it is there like it couldn't possibly be anywhere else. I guess it's fitting that writing is my dream.

The benefits of a time limit

We all hate time limits. We don't like being told that we have a certain amount of time to do something, and that if we run out, then that's it. We wish we had an unlimited amount of time, and we tell ourselves that if we did, then we would use it to do all sorts of things.

The thing that no ones wants to acknowledge is that, yeah, we'd do everything - after we slept for a while, and watched some tv, and played some games, and got some more sleep...

Time limits suck. It's true, and it's undeniable. But they are also incredibly useful. Yesterday was my 90th one of these blog posts. I wouldn't have gotten out 90 of these in such short time if I didn't have a time limit. It's a simple one - I have to get this out by the end of the day. And damn if that's not hard sometimes. But that time limit keeps me in check. It makes sure that I keep thinking about it throughout the day, and that I get something out at some point. It may hold back the quality at times, but you can always add polish to something later on down the road. The hardest part is getting it out in the first place.

The reason this time limit works for me is because it's small and simple. I have to get something out by the end of the day - no ifs ands or buts about it. It also means that I end up writing most of my stuff at the end of the day. And there's nothing inherently wrong with that. Would it work better if I had an earlier end time? Maybe. But I'd have a lot harder time sticking to that time. It's just part of how I think.

Obviously a daily, midnight goal is not going to work for everyone. Some people need a week. Some need a month. It depends on what you're doing, and how long it's going to take you. I can write fast. Like, really, really fast. Especially in short bursts. It's why part of my goal is five hundred words. I know that if I push myself, I can fairly easily get that out in ten minutes. That gives me space to make clutch, last minute posts. And I have, many times. I won't deny that. It's a thing that I do. It's how I am. Rather than change it, I'm going to make myself learn to use it to my advantage.

Finding a time limit for that is really important. I got lucky to have had this work out on my first try. Well, for the most part. I missed a day, but I've already talked about that. The fact that I'm still here writing nearly a month later goes to show that there is something to what I've been doing.

Having to work at the last minute is part of what makes time limits important, believe it or not. When you have less time to think, it forces you to be more creative. To grasp the smaller, more available straws. To take that one word instant prompt that you have no idea where it will go, rather than trying to make a whole plan out before you get going. Sometimes it doesn't work out, and you end up with something incredibly awkward. But it's not like that doesn't sometimes happen even when you have the full plan.

This is something that I know how to do. Work fast and at the last minute. I do it with all kinds of things. There are some people, though, that use their time limits differently. Some want that time limit so they can finish it early and have free time where they can relax, knowing their work is done. And that's awesome.

If there's something that you want to do, I suggest you look at how to set your time limits. Make them just as much time as you need, and try to make it something repeatable. I think you might find, like I have, that it's far more helpful than it sounds like it would be.

Hunting

Maya kneeled down beside the monster she had just knocked out cold from the tree. The ape like figure had recently stolen into town and broken and stolen several valuables from the people, and Maya had been tasked with dealing with it. She had tracked it down to its nest, which she had taken note of so she could return later and retrieve the stolen goods, and then waited patiently for it to come out where she could more easily hunt it. One solid blow to the back of the head with a rock as it was traversing the trees had knocked it to the ground.

She slipped her knife free from its sheath on her belt and slit the monster's throat, ensuring that it would not be bothering it anymore. From there, she quickly set to work, skinning it and taking anything that she could use or sell. She took some tools from her pouch to clean the pieces of the monster she had taken, and placed them in a separate pouch which she carried explicitly for the parts of monsters that she collected, before standing up and heading back to the creature's nest to retrieve the stolen goods.

Maya crawled her way through the tightly woven trees to reach the creature's nest, outfitted haphazardly with the town's stolen goods. Pushing herself inside, she began to lift them and place them carefully in the bag on her back. She considered that it would become more difficult for her to get out with these on hand, but she had a duty to return the people's belongings.

Lifting the bag back onto her shoulders, Maya made herself climb to the top of the trees so that she might have an easier time exiting. As she climbed, the items in her bag clanged against each other. Although she knew the monster that had originally stolen them was now dead, she hoped that it would not attract the attention of any others who might be in the vicinity. Doing so would not only put her in danger, but the items that she had gone through the effort of retrieving. The townsfolk would certainly not be pleased if she returned with broken belongings.

In the higher treetops, she was able to move out to thinner areas, where she slid back down to the ground. Back on ground, she dusted herself and looked around, making sure that no new monsters had arrived after her travels. Satisfied that she was safe, she began her journey back to town.

The girl

Damian sat back in my seat, waiting for the girl he was supposed to meet. She had told him what she was going to be wearing, but he found it unlikely that it would be overly helpful. He had never met her before, despite his repeated attempts, but today was supposed to finally be the day. He had no choice but to rely on the information she had given him. He sighed to himself, thinking back over the list of identifiers she had given him. He couldn't imagine that it would be enough, that he wouldn't somehow end up approaching the wrong girl, but he didn't have much choice.

His eyes wandered around the mall, briefly stopping on any girl who seemed similar to the description he had been given. They all seemed to be short of features, though. Damian was never sure what to do on the girls who seemed very close. Had she changed her mind about something? Forgotten what exactly she had said? She had given him quite the list, but it seemed like it would be fairly simple to miss a piece or two. He was never sure if he should approach them or not. By the time he had decided one way or the other, they had disappeared. As time passed, he was losing hope.

But then, a wave of dirty blonde hair caught his attention. It was smooth and long, beginning to curl as it reached the end, and framed her soft, round face. Her eyes were a deep brown and had a curious look to them. As her hair bounced as she walked, he could see that she had long, crystal like earrings dangling from her ears.

Around her neck, she wore a simple, triangular shaped necklace that he couldn't fully see from where he sat, though he assumed it was the celtic knot that she had described. It sat between her knitted vest with alternating white and brown colors that hung loosely over her simple black blouse. Looking down to her arms, he could see that she wore a hair scrunchie on her right wrist, and two bronze rings on her middle and ring fingers.

Following her legs down, she wore simple blue jeans down to her brown moccasin styled shoes. Her entire figure was thin, yet somehow shapely, and he found that he couldn't look away from her. She caught his stare and grinned at him, walking towards him. Quickly he ran through the list in his head, and found that she had managed to match exactly what she had said she would.

"Well hey there, big fella," she called out as she approached. "Am I everything you dreamed of?"

Damian looked her up and down once more, taking her in. He had always had it in his head that she would be pretty, but... She had exceeded every expectation. She wasn't just pretty. She was beautiful.

"No," he responded after a moment. The girl pouted cutely, and Damian immediately shook his hands as if to tell her not to. "You are far more than I had dreamed."

She giggled and smiled. "Well aren't you just a charmer."

Sources

Growing up knowing I wanted to be a writer, I listened to a lot of the things that writers have said about writing. One of the most common things I heard about it was that you should read. And I get that, and I agree with it. The more read, the more you know about what you like to read, the more you know about how you should write. It's not necessarily a conscious thing, but it's there. You read and you read and you read and you write and you read and you write some more. It's an endless cycle, and that's a good thing.

I also grew up in a world of distractions and accusations. Not necessarily directly at me, but they were all definitely there. You should be reading instead of playing games. You should be doing homework instead of watching tv. You should be doing something active instead of reading. What do you think you're gonna do with your life when you grow up? Playing all those games isn't gonna help you get there. You need to get up and apply yourself.

I can't really disagree with any of these things. I do, however, think that most people grossly misvalue things. There are most certainly pathways in life in which all of these things which people around you say are worthless are not only useful, but nearly vital. In fact, I would argue that most positions out there can be aided by playing games or watching tv or reading. You just have to play, watch, or read the right things. Or be able to look at and understand these things in ways you wouldn't normally think of.

As a writer, having grown up in both of these worlds simultaneously, I know understand this on a level I think a lot of people don't. I'm not trying to brag or make myself out to be better in some way in saying this. The fact is simply that I look at things differently, and so I understand things in a different way. Being a writer, there is nothing you can do that you can't take from. Everything has a story behind it. A writer's job is simply to find that story and to tell it.

But personally, I don't think it's just writer's that have this advantage. If you've ever had a friend who wanted to do something just because they say it in a tv show or a movie, you probably thought they were an idiot. And a lot of times, you were probably right. But think about it. What they saw inspired them. It made them think about the world differently. As they pursue that path, they may find it was not what they initially expected. But that's not a bad thing. They learned from that. And if it worked out, then they gained a key part of themselves because of it.

I've said before that a writer writes based on what they know. They put their heart and soul into what they write, and they produce something based on life. If someone comes along and sees that, and is inspired by that, and goes on to try and live that life, then that writer has done something amazing for them. And it doesn't matter what life they write.

A great example is the show Star Trek. If you've ever seen the original series, you know how cheesy and old it is. But think about it for a minute. There are tons of things that were on that show that didn't exist in the real world at the time. And now, some of them do, and some of them are even outdated. Their communicators were small boxes with a flip up cover that answered calls when it was opened. Ten years ago, flip phones were all the rage. And the people who invented those got the idea from Star Trek, and tried to make what they saw a reality.

So, while you should keep your game playing and tv watching in check to make sure they don't fall out of moderation, don't write them off as useless. Somewhere down the road, you may just find that they are worth more to you than you could ever know.