A Pasty Man

I’ve been struggling recently to write, so I’ve come up with this little idea to get things going; I’m going to try and write 200 words per day, and finish a short story with in the next few days. Once I’m settled back into a routine, I can go back and start working again on my longer works.

So, here you go:

Pasty skin, pasty lips, pasty everything. He had been born with a coat of ivory, and had gone through his teenager years being called “vampire”, “albino”, and “Mr. Freeze” by a kid with chipped tooth and a never-fading black eye. As a young man, he had spent two years and a couple of hundred greens on tanning sprays which turned him orange, and tanning sessions that he quit after his first cancer scare. At the age of twenty-two, he settled his vendetta with his skin-tone, and realized that perhaps he would forever remain pasty. The decision came slow, after being called paper-thin by ex no. 1, ex no. 2, and ex no. 4. His color wasn’t a big deal, he reasoned; some countries have populations that are even paler than he was, so just because his fellow country men had a nice glisten to their tone, it didn’t mean that handsomeness was bound to it. He was over it, except for when he pickpocket his sister’s bronzer on a few occasional dates (but he didn’t own, and that was all that mattered!). He never ever brushed it on his face though; only over his abs- or ab.
It was one particular day that he felt oddly confident…


Chasing after the first word

Writing doesn’t always come easy; regardless of how talented you are. It might be a strained muscle or voices muffled under the weight of life. Recently I’ve been chasing after the first word; the end of the string. I want to pull at the first word and then tug the whole novel back towards me chapter by chapter. But do you know how hard it is to find the right string once you’ve let it go? 

Sometimes we forget we’ve been holding our inspiration for too long, and we let it go. We let it slip from between our tips. 

Where did it go? It’s not there any longer.

Suddenly you’re not connected anymore, and all you could think about is:

It’s a key in the sea now. I won’t find it again.

Should you give up. No. So how do you get it back?


I’m a sheep (writing class assignment)

This is a short class assignment I wrote a few months back. I was feeling pretty down about my writing today (and in particular about Teacup Rebel), so I was digging through old stuff I wrote and trying to see how I could improve. So, If you have any constructive criticism, don’t hesitate.


“I’m becoming a sheep and a stereotype of the mob mentality. Yesterday I gave up my name for a number, and my feet for hooves. In my herd, I am defined as the one with slightly bushier coat of wool and the portly belly. My distinctions have upset my fellow stock, so I’m cutting down on my grass consumption and getting a trim; I would hate to stick out. From now on, indefinite articles go perfectly before my name.
My newfound identity makes me proud. As one of the group, the wise elders have let me on the secret of a tried and tested tactic of survival. They called it “Do what everyone does, because thinkers makes others uncomfortable”. I admire that way of life and dedication, for even the great bisons do it. Just last week I saw an entire herd follow each other off a cliff with such grace in compliance.
Sometimes I miss who I used to be. I was an Iberian Lynx, one of the four hundred in existence. My fur was one-off with brown, beige, black, and many other shades. And my face served as an inspiration for writers and fashion designers. Still, everyone used to look at me and point with their hooves, and it made me wish I could belong. I always felt like a PS3 in a box of legos. I might have been something spectacular; but it could never fit in. It is easier now.
In a few minutes, the elders will chant, “Embrace the mundane” and I will baa right after them in a rite of passage. I will live like the rest never using “I” before “think”. I will bury whatever originality I have left, and never be exceptional again. When my kids are born, they are going to bleat with the rest and get herded by a dog. I believe this is the best and only choice for them. It is, right?”


Three awesome resources for writing your first novel and a quick update.


About one month ago, I posted saying that I decided to bet on myself and start writing my first novel. So far, the first draft sucks and reads a lot like cave-man language, but we all once traced letters in a swigged font before learning to write our names, huh. I’ve got to start somewhere!

Anyway, today I reached 36,500 words mark. Almost half of the first draft is done- Bazinga! I’ve to say, the eid vacation (a week) helped get some millage out of me.

Now enough about me. Here are three awesome resources for the budding writer who is slaving away at his/her first novel.

1- Scrivener

Download this program right now! I saw many people swearing by it online, and I didn’t believe them until I actually tried it. It is the best writing software out there. It is easy to get lost when writing the first novel, but it made it easy to combine everything in one place, which you can later export in all sorts of formats (including epub!).

I’ll dedicate a whole post to it soon.

You can download a trial here: https://www.literatureandlatte.com/scrivener.php

2- Fiction writing for dummies


I’ll admit: I didn’t expect much out of this book, after taking a look at the Japanese for dummies one. Yet, as it turns out, it is actually very well organized and includes guides you from plotting to finding a publisher.

What it doesn’t tell you about though is proof reading and such. It is not a grammar book.

I also recommend you take a look at blog of Randy Ingermanson, one of the authors. He explains a method he calls “snowflake” for designing a novel. http://www.advancedfictionwriting.com/articles/snowflake-method/

3- Terrible minds blog by Chuck Wendig

This blog is my motivation bible! It was got my started. One of the posts, ‘25 THINGS YOU SHOULD KNOW ABOUT WRITING A NOVEL’, is the reason I’m so determined to finish my first novel. The first commandment was “FINISH THE SHIT THAT YOU STARTED”.  That’s what I call tough love!

It has great tips and information, so check it out:




Deciding which story to write


Over the past few days, I’ve been visiting the novel graveyard (Aka my documents) trying to decide if any of the stories I started and buried had any potential.

They were all first or second chapters, so it was hard to tell where any of them was going, so I decided to go with my heart and choose to continue “Teacup Rebel”. I had started writing “Teacup Rebel” a few years back (3 years I think). I sent the first chapter to one of my closest friends, and asked her for her opinion. She replied with the below (keep in mind that she is not a native English speaker):


You have an amazing imagination you remind me of Harry Potter.

I cant wait till i know whats in your head.

It is such a sad story be aware it might turn into a scary/sad story you do not want this to happen or you will just sound crazy and a perv.

You have to explain character more, what is the Myth, how do they look like, why people think of them as completely ordinary and are not mortified by how they look (The first thought that came to my mind) you want to show how chibis are ordinary but you need to mention their origins, their look, what they are capable of and what they are not,and most importantly how small are they??

On a seperate note, you choose the same words so many time (sadist) maybe also a bit predictable sometimes, like leaving things might get them stolen, or she will convince her friend and she odes convince her im not telling you to be talkative but still less predictable more imagination when it even comes to regular conversation as not to be boring.

The idea is excellent, beyond the word excellent but is your goal is it to show how small people can change the word, or how small insignificant people are mistreated but they can still rise above? we need to reach a goal in the end,

Finally, you are my PRIDE AND JOY.

Thanks a lot babe,

and plz keep sharing and if u dndt like my review i will not tell you my opinion just share bas 😀

I didn’t continue the story then. She used to ask me a lot about it,  tell me how much she believed in me, and how shameful it would be if I wasted my “talent”. I brushed her words it off. I thought because she was my friend, it was an unspoken rule she’d encourage me even if I sucked. She died about a year later in a car accident, and I started to realize how she was one of the rare people who ever believed in me. So, I think I should continue “Teacup rebel”  and dedicated to her memory (even though she did not like that title).

Sorry for being a cliché and over-sentimental. I know that being a cliché is close to an abomination in writing.

Anyway, the story is set in a world where countries have been disbanded. It is a world without belonging, without religion, and without culture. The council rules, and the council members are the ultimate ambassadors of democracy and peace, except for Chibis. Those Chibis look like humans and speak likes ones, but they could fit in the palm of your hand, like moving Barbies. That’s what they are: things, entertainment, and the all around pets. They have no rights or will of their own. Tatsuo, the hero is the story, has lived all his life in a cage, and he is sick of it.  On the other hand, Nouri, the heroine and a blogger with 5 million subscribers under her belt, wishes for her own cage. Cages keep you safe, and she likes ‘safe’ and ‘comfortable’. The story unfolds after she buys Tatsuo and dresses him in purple pants and a fish net.

Obviously, it’s a fantasy, which is not my forte, but if I’m getting my knees wet, I’m might as well take a dip. So far, I have 3 chapters done, and I’ve started the 4th today.


The image is from http://cherishedtrinkets.co.uk

Will I make it as a writer?

That’s the big question, isn’t it? You don’t know me, but I’m betting you’re already thinking, “Nah, get off your unicorn, girl”. Or perhaps you’re one of those rare optimists, you know, the hopers who have more dopamine receptors than the rest of the “sane” people. If you are one of them, I used to be like you. Then I grew up, I stumbled upon life, and now I have a bloody nose because I wasn’t looking at my feet. I tell you; you bump into too many poles if you walk around with your eyes glued to the clouds. The game of weighing my previous expectations against my new realization of what I could actually become was dumbbells of my ankles. I wasn’t happy anymore. Classic, right?

A couple of beaten years later, I realized I spend 8 hours per day building someone else’s dream, then I come back home to wallow about mine.  What if I spent some of that “I suck and I should cry about it” time into actually perusing something that I want more than anything. So what if I don’t get my daily dose of self-petty? What if I ride it thought rather than go with it? If writing felt like a limb and a part of me, I shouldn’t let the hope-eating bacteria get it and then the rest of me without a fight. In every horror movie, there is someone that always survives. The chances of survival was 1 to 100, but if he (usually she) had given up fighting twenty minutes earlier in the movie, there wouldn’t have been that 1%.

So, I decided to suck it up, and do something about what I want. I don’t care if I think my first chapter is toilet paper compared to twilight, which is already toilet paper (I’m being petty cause I’m jealous).  I’ll keep on going and maybe with enough effort, I’ll publish a novel.

So the deal is, I’ll create a poll here. Place your bets. I’ll keep you updated, and we’ll see how this gamble turn out.

N.B. You can vote multiple times, so you can always change your bet.