der Wille zur Macht

I can relate with many writers out there who are at the verge of giving up or those finding days wasted from idling in front of the computer without finishing a single scene or paragraph. I don’t remember who said it, but it was something about, you should write only when you feel like it as to put meaning. My mind’s itching for Robert Frost, but I’m not sure. Anyway, I have to disagree with that.

I’m no published author, so I’ll just share some of my thoughts that gets me writing.

der Wille zur Macht, in English, “Will to Power”, or for some reason coming from a young German’s translation, “Brave Enough To Be Mighty”, is a philosophy by Friedrich Nietzsche, and basically it means if you really want to do it, you can do it.

If you’re that someone who is betting it all into your fiction, then there’s a freakishly long road waiting for you. Some will get lucky, some won’t, what’s important is you keep pushing forward. Can’t finish a WIP? Then you’ll have to “will” it into you – will as hard as you can until your thoughts start projecting little green things.

Grab all your bills, and pin them in a bulletin board somewhere just behind your computer, so you can see it every time your eyes decide to ogle at something. Don’t have a bulletin board? Staple them into your hands so you can see them as you write.

Think about your kids, your future, your past – all people who would rely on you to become awesome in life. If it means getting a book published, then the first step is to finish a manuscript, cut out all the shitty parts, add even more awesome stuff, cut tiny shitty parts, add bigger awesome stuffs, and make it so shiny it burns through the eyes of anyone who reads it (in a good way!)

Stop bitching about how you can’t write or you’re going to give up. If you need a break, then take a break. A WIP is a lover madly in love with you, you can discard it, beat it, toss it back and forth with your friends, and it will still stick around for you. It will take all abuse just for your damn satisfaction. Take advantage of that love. No, wait, don’t take advantage of it, cherish it, adore it like how sparkly Edward would bitchy Bella and make awesome babies together. Even if you’ve permanently deleted them from your file, they’ll always be in your mind.

Read other writers’ struggles in their WIP and life. Toss them your bread, and some butter, heck, throw them the entire basket if you need to need to, as long as it makes them feel better. Tough love works too. It’s important to cheer each other up and give them all the encouragement they need without asking any in return. Sometimes, giving others the morale boost they need, is enough to feel good about yourself and start writing.

There is no such thing as writer’s block, only lazy writers (ahem). If you really can’t write anything in your WIP, then write about something else until your brain can process thoughts for your WIP. Another trick I found helpful, is writing something that’s already been written, word for word, just for you to actually write something, eventually you’ll find yourself in a writing mood, you’ll start working on your own WIP – and make sure you delete what you copied and not add it into your story!

And probably show it to your family and friends, oh, many of them are going to say, “Yeah, it’s good” and shower you with praises and glorify you with every awesomeness they can. Come on man, they love you, of course they’ll do that. But don’t get it into your head, you’ll still need hard ass critiques and serious feedback to tighten everything up, and sometimes it can be devastating, so devastating you would want to quit. So use your loved ones encouragement to keep going no matter what. That’s why they’re there.

There, I’ve said what I’ve wanted to say. I’ve dusted off my PS2, and now going to play “Xenosaga Episode I: der Wille zur Macht” 

Is College Worth It?

I get many stories from top university students about how many got lucky in getting in the top 4 Universities. Other controversies, involve anal probing the family’s background to identify if you’re rich or not. Oh hello sir, you’re rich! Welcome! Welcome! Oh, wait, you’re middle class? *Gags* Poor? We don’t accept beggars here, kindly get the fuck out.

It’s a painful reality. Professors from these celeb universities: “I shall eliminate anyone not worthy to be here!”

What the eff do you mean? It questions the professor-student relationship of passing down knowledge and make sure the student learns. Preserving the institution’s prestige is a joke. Professors’ don’t teach, they blab, wasting the students’ time. Many students like that, more time for all-night outs, drinking, smoking, whoring getting into the zephyr song, making bad homemade sex tapes. Arrogance blesses them, they have the resources, and everything else they don’t need.

Tuition hikes almost each year – those truly brilliant barely get a chance because of the lack of some stupid paper.

Of course, now and then we get a Gates, a Jobs, or a Zuckerberg. Then there are unsung heroes, those brave souls, bold enough to drop out and find better success than most people with a degree could ever do.

Bottom line, people are brainwashed into believing college degrees are important. And truth be told, yes, it’s the formal thing that tells potential employers that you work hard. It’s just fucked that some people feel limited for the lack of it, thus accepting the shitty norm. That alone, I reluctantly have to agree it’s worth it. But doesn’t mean there are ways how to bypass it.

Besides, many people hate their jobs because they’re employed to somewhere that doesn’t even relate to what they’ve studied in college. My friend finished nursing, and she worked for a call center agency before she becoming a part-time nurse. Someone I met studied in a seminary, backed out, and is now an editor for a national broadsheet newspaper. I studied in a place that claimed to teach journalism (personally, it’s more of a “practice” and should be “workshop” than anything else, we didn’t get that). But at least I got into the journalism business, my friend who had a promising career as a sports journalist gave it up to become a card dealer in a casino. He’s earning twice or more compared to I in a month. Fuck you man, hope you read that. lol

The Fish

Hurrah! Another blog post so soon. And with a new look too that made my tagline read at first glance, “Innards of An Erotic Writer”, (or maybe that’s just me?) so I’ll change that once I figure out what to replace it with. Wanted to change URL too with my name instead, but still unsure how that will turn out, but whatever. Also, for some reason my author name doesn’t appear. It’s kind of pissing me off. It’s Jon Karoll, by the way.

Anyway, I got a story to tell, and it’s going to be like licking a vanilla flavored ice cream, scattered with some chocolates, strawberries, or whatever sweets or bitter, vomit-inducing chemicals in it, and I got a feeling it’s going to drag, but whatever. Here goes…

The Fish

Once upon a time, there was a fish, trapped in a cesspool, because it cannot, for the life of it, swim. A lobster passed by, saw the fish and decided to teach it how to swim. They became friends for a time, but along the way, the lobster often mistreated the fish, and the fish rebelled and failed each time until it actually started to think right. Little did this fish knew, it had been sold by the lobster. To a salmon. However, unlike the lobster, these two became close friends, until an angry cod fucked them all up. It only took two special Ghosts to drive it off. So, salmon and fish became friends again – and possibly, maybe, who knows? – planned for world domination.

Now, that doesn’t sound too bad, does it? Anyway, fish and salmon became bitter enemies because of a simple misunderstanding. The salmon, huge and scary, with the idea of world domination, easily trampled the fish. But once again, the fish started thinking right, and this time, it worked. Fish and salmon separated as good friends, each off going to wherever they chose.

Salmon got its world empire with a few resistence.

Fish got its freedom and for crying out loud, did not know what to do with it. So it decided to make itself awesome, and it did, and at the peak of its awesomeness, it fucked itself up, got into drugs and shit. It wasted itself, where other fishes that cannot swim before evolved into freakishly scary hordes of Gyarados, even cod who was severely hurt from salmon became so awesome so brilliant, you need sunglasses to look at it.

The fish injected itself with more drugs, contracted diseases and parasites. Now the parasites rule the fish. Those parasites invited more parasites and those parasites invited more and more until the fish turned into a bloating mass of indescribable monstrosity that makes Lovecraft’s cosmic gods look silly in comparison. Now, the fish’s immune system is trying to fight back, and it just pissed off the parasites, so they decided to eradicate their only means to rebellion, communication.

Communication among the immune systems is limited to a downgraded pile of cesspool shit. They don’t know what to do and the immune systems staying quiet are struck stupid as parasites kick their doors open and claim their memories in false charges of conspiracy, treason, or whatever phantoms these parasites desire to manifest.

The fish is dying, refuses help from salmon, parasites eating it from the inside out – multiplying by the moment, its brain wasting away, rotting without knowing, innards bloating with puss, crap, and all abominations of the sea.

The fish fucked itself with the wrong end of the stick.

The End

Moral of the story. Don’t take your damn spoon-fed freedom to fuckstanding levels where even the Lord Above would be tempted to smite you from where you stand.

The story sucks I know. It was really meant to suck. It sucks more how this thing is actually happening. A certain thing is, and it really sucks. And it sucks even more how I know no one will read this post, because I know I won’t read a post like this, and even if someone does, they probably won’t understand a thing of it. Understandable for many, not, for some. It just, you know, sucks overall.

Listening to “Freedom” by Rage Against the Machine

Watching “V for Vendetta”… more because of Natalie Portman.

Innards of An Erratic Writer #2

It is, detestable, to have made very little progress over my WIP. Which is why I’m writing this, in high hopes once I’m through bitching about my self-worth as a writer, I can finally get my ass up and work at full capacity. Well, here goes…

Scar City managed a few edits, a full chapter haul, a few more edits, and nothing to move the story forward. At the very least, I’m seeing a clearer picture where this is all going and how to get there. The characters are revealing more about themselves and actually suggesting a few odd things that just might work. A friend suggested I do research on certain topics just to get a better grasp of the situation as things were quite similar to Scar. I did what she said, more thorough, and the outcome had me puking in front of a toilet until I turned into a half-witted cretin begging to die. Reality is indeed, a lot fucking stranger than fiction.

Tunnel Crow Town is worst. In a way, I’ve called for a hit on my protagonists and even though I know how they will get by this, I just can’t seem to set the scene right. So, I’ve skipped the entire first part and moved on the second part. It’s pretty weird, like missing an entire season of Lost, and you don’t want to go back yet because the current event is pretty darn interesting, regardless of the confusion. I’m just hoping it will just sort itself out eventually.

Bonsai‘s first chapter is a quarter from completion. I’m pretty much stuck at this point, I just have that one big battle in my head. I’ll probably just write that and be done with it.  And from four POVs, I’ve decided to cut one out, and save him for the sequel. And, yeah, next topic.

* * *

I have shelved three new ideas that are on my must-do list. I’m very excited to get them done, one of them has a few quick chapters and so far, it looks good – I hope. Thus, this piece shall be code-named, Harry. Because one of the main characters is named Harry. He’s a 15-year-old kid that’s pretty messed up in certain ways, like, Dexter Morgan messed up, and his freakishly hot best friend is just as fucked up, like, Hannibal Lecter fucked up.  See how excited I am with this? Well, it’s not as macabre as how I just described it, it’s just a story about Harry and his father coping with the loss of a dearly loved woman.

The other two shelved are still mysteries to me. But I’ve got the basic idea how I want it to go. The first, will be a post-apocalyptic dieselpunk-slash-Fallout and will have all sorts of things in them like epic air battles with zeppelins and hovercrafts, gangsters, flappers, and possibly a Captain America – a loyal soldier who asks no questions, a patriot of the last surviving city, a symbol of hope and strength whose presence alone boosts morale so much, his men are willing to go on fighting even with chopped limbs and all that, plus he’s taking orders from a Red Skull. I’m pretty psyche with this one and filled half a notebook with brainstorm ideas, no solid story yet though, so yeah, this is sure to hit my priority list soon.

The second is basically an experimental novel. Have you seen Christopher Nolan’s Memento? Yeah. Something like that.

Argh. Remember my Itch post? See how destructive new ideas can be. Anyway, Alice in Chains, Alice Cooper, Slipknot, 30 Seconds to Mars, and My Chemical Romance, cycling through my raffle-won Sound Blaster. This thing is freaking loud.