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Some creative writing
8 years ago
Advice I have a beginning writer
The number one thing that will make you reach your goal (Notice I didn’t say it will help you reach your goal, it will MAKE you reach it!) Is having a love for your story. The love you have for your story can stem from anything, but you must simply love it (almost) more than you love anything.
When I wrote my first novel, “Kumala”, about a sapient anthropomorphic wolf girl, who befriends, fall in love with, and is eventually rescued by a human man, the story had been brewing in my heart for maybe 7 years.
Notice where I said it was brewing… In my heart… not my head!
One day I decided to finally write it… I wasn’t sure what to expect as I have never written anything of length before, only in high school for homework.
I soon discovered that writing was my passion. One day I wrote from sun up to sun down in “Kumala”, and wrote 75 8.5x11 sheets of paper.
Weeks went by. I was constantly writing, every break and chance I got. Once, I had an opportunity to take someone to a birthday party, and I thought, perhaps I should go venture into the real world for a few hours… The entire time I wanted to return to writing about her.
When I write about my characters (All of my stories are love stories) I can see their faces as they speak and smile, I can smell the scent of their bodies, and most of all, I can feel their spirits. I describe these things as they flow from my fingers, and it is as real as being in the conversation, listening to it yourself, as you observe the characters, not three feet from them.
The only other advice is to write by showing people what’s in your brain, by describing it, rather than plainly telling them. For example:
This is not the way to write:
“She kissed him.”
Rather, try this:
“Sarah smiled as she blushed… The light glinting off of her nervous eyes. Still, her head cocked softly to one side. She looked down… Afraid of what she may see in his eyes, but her heart had to know…
When her eyes locked onto his, he was looking into the face of the most beautiful woman he had ever seen in his life. He knew he would spend the rest of his life with her, and now, he knew, he had to have her.
Submissively, she smiled, tall pointy ears falling gently against her head, dulling her senses, showing him she trusted him, and begging him to be have mercy.
Smiling, he reached up… His fingertips sending an electric current through her jaw the moment his fingertips touched her cheeks. He felt her face, impossibly soft, and so warm. She smiled, her eyebrows showing him the face of a desperately vulnerable Naakaanee woman.
She opened her mouth, just slightly, to speak, she wanted to tell him how she felt, right then and there, she wanted to pour the overflowing love in her heart out, through her mouth, past her lips, and spill it’s desire all over him. She wanted to feel the warmth of his heart bask and glow in the devotion of her own, being slightly empathic, as most Naakaanee were.
Instead, he pressed his lips to hers, her fearful tongue softly, gently, kindly probed by his own. He did not force anything, but instead coaxed her nervous tongue out of it’s lonely cavern, and rewarding her with the softest caress she could have known.
She closed her eyes. Hot, sweet breath exited her mouth as she exhaled, her heart overflowing with excitement.
Her eyes remained closed, as she breathed heavily, her soft, gentle, feminine hand resting on his chest.
When did that happen? She wondered to herself, then relaxed, and smiled… her hand still soaking up the warmth from his uniform.
She swallowed what little of him he had given her, and tilted her head down.
He smiled.
“Sarah… I love you. I loved you the moment I saw you. You are a beautiful woman… But your heart is even more beautiful. It is the warmth and radiance I feel from your spirit that draws me in… That pulls me in and keeps me there. Sarah, I cannot live without you. Will you… Will you accept my hand in courtship?
I would like to spend as much time as we can… getting to know one another. I want to bond to you… I want to see you so much and so often that I cannot imagine spending a moment without you. I want my heart branded with the beauty of your spirit. Sarah… I want to be your Bond. Will you be my Bond?”
Sarah’s sweet, tender, submissive face beamed as the tears rolled softly down her cheeks.
She dared step closer him, her bare feet on the cool marble floor.
“Yes.” She said. She wanted to tell him how much her heart ached to be around him. She wanted to tell him she had instantly fallen in love the moment she saw him. She wore a blush for hours after he had smiled at her, in that ballroom.
Slowly, gently, he took her hand, letting his fingers slide softly, almost sensually between her own. She blushed harder, as his once pink cheeks flushed red.
Somewhere, off in the distance, a bell rang. Chuck winced as he saw some of the dedication for that moment in her eyes, flow to some other task that required her.
Ears still pinned against her head in gentle Naakaanee submission, she cast him a grin, and released his hand, but not before she squeezed it, stopping mid- step, and looking into his eyes. Shew looked down, then up again, her blush returning as the hairs on her cheeks clumped together, in the traditional Naakaanee blush.
“I want to see you again, Sarah. Will you meet me in the mess hall at oh- thirteen hundred?”
“I will.” She said, turning and walking back to him, her long, flowing tail meandering about as if it were a gentle stream, meandering through time…
She walked up to him, her face much more relaxed, her eyes nearly closed, and her muzzle low.
She looked up into his eyes, her cool, clear yellow eyes glowing softly, reflecting the light through their tapetums, the warmth he saw, warming his heart, in her feminine devotion to him.
“I love you, too.” She whispered, softly, kissing him the way he had wanted to kiss her the first time his lips met hers. He closed his eyes, savoring her touch, the way she pulled him into herself. She finished, and cast him a sweet, somewhat sultry grin, turned, and disappeared through a corridor.
Chuck sat down- more like fell down- into a chair next to him. Breathless, his lips were apart just a fraction of an inch, his mind unwilling to close his mouth, lest the kiss actually have an end.
He sucked in air into his mouth, hoping to taste her, once more, and smiled when he did. He closed his eyes, sighing, the neurons in his brain still fresh and alight with her beauty. Ah, she was from another world, yes! But her heart was as warmer than anything he had encountered back on Earth.
Chuck stood up, and let out a laugh when his knees refused- for a moment- to support him. He swallowed, not wanting to remove any part of her from his mouth.
Ah, but there would be many more times to be close to her. To feel that warmth he was desperate for. To spend the three years that is traditional for her people- in celibate courtship- before giving her his Oath- and receiving her Oath for himself- only to be given once in one lifetime, and never again.
He looked forward to it. Time becoming best friends. Time getting to know one another, and cherishing the warmth and beauty of their hearts and spirits as they mingled in the ether between them.
Ah, she was a fine woman. Not human, no, but no human could deny her otherworldly beauty and subtle sensual warmth of her feminine spirit.
One day he would take her hand as his… But for now, all he wanted to do was buy her lunch in the mess hall.
The number one thing that will make you reach your goal (Notice I didn’t say it will help you reach your goal, it will MAKE you reach it!) Is having a love for your story. The love you have for your story can stem from anything, but you must simply love it (almost) more than you love anything.
When I wrote my first novel, “Kumala”, about a sapient anthropomorphic wolf girl, who befriends, fall in love with, and is eventually rescued by a human man, the story had been brewing in my heart for maybe 7 years.
Notice where I said it was brewing… In my heart… not my head!
One day I decided to finally write it… I wasn’t sure what to expect as I have never written anything of length before, only in high school for homework.
I soon discovered that writing was my passion. One day I wrote from sun up to sun down in “Kumala”, and wrote 75 8.5x11 sheets of paper.
Weeks went by. I was constantly writing, every break and chance I got. Once, I had an opportunity to take someone to a birthday party, and I thought, perhaps I should go venture into the real world for a few hours… The entire time I wanted to return to writing about her.
When I write about my characters (All of my stories are love stories) I can see their faces as they speak and smile, I can smell the scent of their bodies, and most of all, I can feel their spirits. I describe these things as they flow from my fingers, and it is as real as being in the conversation, listening to it yourself, as you observe the characters, not three feet from them.
The only other advice is to write by showing people what’s in your brain, by describing it, rather than plainly telling them. For example:
This is not the way to write:
“She kissed him.”
Rather, try this:
“Sarah smiled as she blushed… The light glinting off of her nervous eyes. Still, her head cocked softly to one side. She looked down… Afraid of what she may see in his eyes, but her heart had to know…
When her eyes locked onto his, he was looking into the face of the most beautiful woman he had ever seen in his life. He knew he would spend the rest of his life with her, and now, he knew, he had to have her.
Submissively, she smiled, tall pointy ears falling gently against her head, dulling her senses, showing him she trusted him, and begging him to be have mercy.
Smiling, he reached up… His fingertips sending an electric current through her jaw the moment his fingertips touched her cheeks. He felt her face, impossibly soft, and so warm. She smiled, her eyebrows showing him the face of a desperately vulnerable Naakaanee woman.
She opened her mouth, just slightly, to speak, she wanted to tell him how she felt, right then and there, she wanted to pour the overflowing love in her heart out, through her mouth, past her lips, and spill it’s desire all over him. She wanted to feel the warmth of his heart bask and glow in the devotion of her own, being slightly empathic, as most Naakaanee were.
Instead, he pressed his lips to hers, her fearful tongue softly, gently, kindly probed by his own. He did not force anything, but instead coaxed her nervous tongue out of it’s lonely cavern, and rewarding her with the softest caress she could have known.
She closed her eyes. Hot, sweet breath exited her mouth as she exhaled, her heart overflowing with excitement.
Her eyes remained closed, as she breathed heavily, her soft, gentle, feminine hand resting on his chest.
When did that happen? She wondered to herself, then relaxed, and smiled… her hand still soaking up the warmth from his uniform.
She swallowed what little of him he had given her, and tilted her head down.
He smiled.
“Sarah… I love you. I loved you the moment I saw you. You are a beautiful woman… But your heart is even more beautiful. It is the warmth and radiance I feel from your spirit that draws me in… That pulls me in and keeps me there. Sarah, I cannot live without you. Will you… Will you accept my hand in courtship?
I would like to spend as much time as we can… getting to know one another. I want to bond to you… I want to see you so much and so often that I cannot imagine spending a moment without you. I want my heart branded with the beauty of your spirit. Sarah… I want to be your Bond. Will you be my Bond?”
Sarah’s sweet, tender, submissive face beamed as the tears rolled softly down her cheeks.
She dared step closer him, her bare feet on the cool marble floor.
“Yes.” She said. She wanted to tell him how much her heart ached to be around him. She wanted to tell him she had instantly fallen in love the moment she saw him. She wore a blush for hours after he had smiled at her, in that ballroom.
Slowly, gently, he took her hand, letting his fingers slide softly, almost sensually between her own. She blushed harder, as his once pink cheeks flushed red.
Somewhere, off in the distance, a bell rang. Chuck winced as he saw some of the dedication for that moment in her eyes, flow to some other task that required her.
Ears still pinned against her head in gentle Naakaanee submission, she cast him a grin, and released his hand, but not before she squeezed it, stopping mid- step, and looking into his eyes. Shew looked down, then up again, her blush returning as the hairs on her cheeks clumped together, in the traditional Naakaanee blush.
“I want to see you again, Sarah. Will you meet me in the mess hall at oh- thirteen hundred?”
“I will.” She said, turning and walking back to him, her long, flowing tail meandering about as if it were a gentle stream, meandering through time…
She walked up to him, her face much more relaxed, her eyes nearly closed, and her muzzle low.
She looked up into his eyes, her cool, clear yellow eyes glowing softly, reflecting the light through their tapetums, the warmth he saw, warming his heart, in her feminine devotion to him.
“I love you, too.” She whispered, softly, kissing him the way he had wanted to kiss her the first time his lips met hers. He closed his eyes, savoring her touch, the way she pulled him into herself. She finished, and cast him a sweet, somewhat sultry grin, turned, and disappeared through a corridor.
Chuck sat down- more like fell down- into a chair next to him. Breathless, his lips were apart just a fraction of an inch, his mind unwilling to close his mouth, lest the kiss actually have an end.
He sucked in air into his mouth, hoping to taste her, once more, and smiled when he did. He closed his eyes, sighing, the neurons in his brain still fresh and alight with her beauty. Ah, she was from another world, yes! But her heart was as warmer than anything he had encountered back on Earth.
Chuck stood up, and let out a laugh when his knees refused- for a moment- to support him. He swallowed, not wanting to remove any part of her from his mouth.
Ah, but there would be many more times to be close to her. To feel that warmth he was desperate for. To spend the three years that is traditional for her people- in celibate courtship- before giving her his Oath- and receiving her Oath for himself- only to be given once in one lifetime, and never again.
He looked forward to it. Time becoming best friends. Time getting to know one another, and cherishing the warmth and beauty of their hearts and spirits as they mingled in the ether between them.
Ah, she was a fine woman. Not human, no, but no human could deny her otherworldly beauty and subtle sensual warmth of her feminine spirit.
One day he would take her hand as his… But for now, all he wanted to do was buy her lunch in the mess hall.
V.
I should send you all of my stories... But be warned, there are thousands of pages across many stories that are quite long!