Creative Writing

I tend to complicate things when I see something good is about to happen to me. I tend to lose interest in someone who is interested in me. I tend to push away the good and pull in the bad. I’m afraid of love and anyone who wants love from me because I gave all I had to those who never wanted it to begin with.
—  t.i // Protecting myself from another heartbreak.
Nothing could have prepared me for the fire in his eyes once I was able to meet his gaze again. He stared at me, his dark eyes scanning my face so fast that I started feeling dizzy after a few seconds of trying to keep up with it. I could feel his body going tense against mine, his hand forming a fist while cold fear was rushing through my veins.
I knew that I should not have blurted those words out like that, without thinking of the consequences they would have once they were out in the open.
But I simply had not been able to keep them in any longer, when they were all I had been thinking of at night since that day in September when I had heard his voice for the first time, filling the air with bitter sweet sounds and the laugh of a fallen angel.
And even now, when he could not hide the desperation any longer, when he realized that we were both fucked, simply watching the way his eyes both absorbed and reflected the sunlight at the same time, knocked the oxygen out of my lungs. It was impossible for me to imagine that anyone could feel what I felt at that very moment, when love and pain, panic and hope were filling my mind with blankness.
And I wondered wether he had ever felt the way I did right now or if I simply misinterpreted his lullabies and thoughts.
“It has been a while”, he eventually whispered, his voice smooth and careful, making harsh contrast with the flames that were still lighting up his eyes.
“I know.”
“Okay”, it was just a word, just one word, that rolled of his tongue almost effortlessly while my heartbeat picked up speed and I had trouble breathing, the fear of rejection still controlling my insides.
And then he did not say another word, he just looked at me, the way he did when we had met for the first time and my heart stopped.
—  // ‘What’s your dream?’
excerpt from a story I will never write

So, I’d mentioned somewhere or another that I would write a follow up post from my “NaNoWriMo Prep” and talk a little more on how I have outlined in the past. The pictures above are actually old examples of stories I’ve plotted out. They’re old, out of date, and projects I’m not really working on so I don’t mind sharing them. These are just short little excerpts. I’ll talk now about how I actually go about writing these outlines. 

First, start with a beginning, middle, and end. (Not pictured). Big picture. You know the problem, what is going to escalate the problem, and the resolution. Do not skip this step. Write down each item. It doesn’t need to be a full sentence. It doesn’t need to be a full idea. Just something to start with. 

From there, you start building up the outline. You start by constructing scenes to get you from the beginning to the middle, then the middle to the end. Come up with scenes first. If you can assign chapters to a couple of scenes, go ahead. It makes everything easier to organize. Try also to write a sentence that will connect one chapter to the next. 

Don’t make things up. If you don’t know it, don’t fill it in. In the one I’m currently working on, I haven’t gotten past chapter 6, but I’m not worried because it’s headed in the right direction and I’m only at chapter 3 so I have plenty of time to figure out how to move the story forward. These chapters are also pretty long. I’ll probably cut a lot but I won’t start cutting it down until later when I know what is really not very important. 

Remember plotting is a process. I’m not a die-hard plotter so I try not to plan too far ahead. I want to know the story can actually get where I want it to go and if it veers off in a way I hadn’t expected, I don’t want to limit myself. 

***Added note: My writing is not actually as bad as it sounds in my outlines. These were “notes to self.” They are not so pretty…***

I’ve listed some things I wanted to tell you. Here are some.

First is, the last time I saw you, your haircut was horrible. Yes, that messy hair. Did you ever get a time to fix that or you just leave it that way every time you go out? But honestly, I like the fact that you don’t care what you look like in front of others, you’re the most apathetic person I know when it comes to what strangers think about you.

Second, I’ve always wanted your gray sweater the first time I saw it. I want to rip it out of your body and I don’t care if you appear topless. It suits you very much and I hate it. I think it suits me more, I think I’d look cool with your sweater on. And I also think that it would be sweet if I have something that’s yours inside my closet.

Third, I don’t like the way you walk. Damn, you look so boastful and mysterious at the same time – does this makes any sense? Well, anyway, try to chin down sometimes. I hate it when girls are looking at you. Some are probably thinking bad things about you, some are probably thinking good things about you. I don’t like them thinking. Okay?

Fourth, I like it when you curse. I like it when we curse! And then laugh loud like we didn’t do an impolite move. I love hearing you laugh even though you said mine is too loud, who cares? You’re spontaneous and you make me laugh hard, I love it.

Fifth, your hands are too soft for a guy. It once made me think that you’re gay, seriously, because what do you when you’re at home? Did you ever wash the dishes? Or just spending your day pressing keyboards? I bet the second one is the reason. Your hands are too soft, sometimes, I get conscious with mine when we hold, are my hands rough? Or soft too? But I’m sure yours are much softer.

Sixth, every time I look at your hand written letters here, I just look at it because I can’t read it. Your penmanship is so ugly, do you know that? You should go back on grade school and practice every letter. Okay, I was just joking on the part that I’m looking at it. Of course, I’m trying my best to read it though I already memorized some, you know how much I love your words.

Seventh, are you still busy? I’m being irritated with the fact that I don’t get chance to hang out with you every single day you don’t hit me up and say let us meet. What do you do on Sundays? Saturdays? I’m free at weekends. I miss you.

Eighth, are you still there? Would you ever come back again? I’d buy you ice cream.

Ninth, I’m waiting. You’re taking too long, it’s not funny anymore.

Tenth, I’m in love with you. This is bad.

—  // 9-29-’16, 10:18pm
Need I Go On

Judging doesn’t push me off cliffs
It doesn’t give me wings either
trying to twist fate’s DNA
You, be like me if it kills you
When have we ever looked at palms
Shook heads, “Why can’t you be an oak?”
Let me be me
Exactly as I am
In this exact moment
Without apology



Devil may care
Tears stream down
Her doll like face
Porcelain with fear


Wine swirls in the glass
As dark as her blood
Still flowing in her veins
Not much longer now


Silence – the response
For her confession
A broken heart
Collapsing before him


Devil may care
His smile – wide
Five paces between them
An eternity


Smoke swirls in the air
Surrounding the once lovers
She grows cold
As he burns


Tears stain the lace
She wears for him
Stopping – abruptly
The heart beats – again


“No more” - words under her breath
He crumbles as she turns away
Carrying the fire in her fingertips
Alone, but alive


His tears for the earth alone
For she thrives now
Burning for her own soul
Devil may care – it is her time now

1. I still have your copy of Kurt Cobain’s Journals and Batman plushie, do you want me to bring them over?

2. Hey, you borrowed my warmest sweater and I’m kind of cold right now, and it’s only September so it’s only going to get worse.

3. Have you finished reading my copy of Harry Potter and the Sorcerer’s Stone? Not that I need it back, you can have it as long as you need.

4. The new season of The Big Bang Theory is so funny, you should watch it.

5. We are still going to watch the new Harry Potter and Star Wars movies together, right?

6. I know we are not talking now, but can I give you the present I bought you for your birthday? Or should I give it to your friends?

7. My grandma keeps asking about you and I don’t know what to tell her.

8. Thank you for introducing me to Jack White’s music. I’ve been listening to Love Interruption on repeat for days.

9. Do you want to see our new flat? Also, could you help us with moving? My brothers don’t give a shit and we can’t do it on our own with mom.

10. If you need any help with math or just need a quiet place to study, I’m here anytime you want.

—  I wish I could talk to you.

darling, close your eyes. whenever you do so, i hope you see me. i hope you remember every petal i picked under thorn breeding eyes, remember every monster from your heart i caged in your closet to build dust, remember my smile in a dark room now brightened by your fluorescence.

don’t just sleep—dream of me falling into bed beside you. dream of distance choked behind the night of blank stars, under lamppost farewells and looking over my shoulder to count your steps, in stolen kisses when the movie was playing.

drive the car somewhere time was enough, instead of away from here where i can feel it ripping scars on my tongue with goodbye again. grip these fingers tight as if it would help to prove forever. it’s easier to dream of it all than to go against what should be, to go against what is.

—  s.c
Have I written anything
real, it’s cold, the truth,
a steel table in the morgue
lab coat cutting me
cabinets of long left behind
I’m the desperate scream
no one ever hears in time
—  @katrinnac
a landscape of broken.

you don’t have to love me
I am a dirty city
lost in the metropolitan
of busy sidewalks
and angry skies
I am a demolition site
of abandoned buildings
painted with graffiti
and old ruins of yesteryear
I am rumbles of tall buildings
hiding the edge of every sun
on a sky of storm clouds
I can open fire on my own skin
rip away at my old scars
and bleed, to only flood my own heart

like autumn. 🍂

I let him fade
from my breath
no more whispers
like the smell of primrose
the enchantment of bleeding forests
like lurking silhouettes
the soft clouds
like birds that flew from their sky
of each pumpkin
like grim faces in fields tightly woven
and I’ve not mended
this touch,
of seasonal melancholy
like memories abandon
like a haze