In a former post, I discussed my slow start into writing. I believe my first incursion into purposeful writing and reading began in my early senior year, when A decided art what was he truly loved, and disappeared into the art studio for a year. I was in a unique stage in life, with some close friends trickling out of life and some new friends stampeding in, and I'd much on my mind worth considering. I still have all my journals, and I can still see my original, first journal piece that I ever wrote on this train into now. I wrote a poem titled "The Oasis Divine" and a small piece on roads. I did not expect I might be still writing today, or that the journaling would continue at that time, and did not date my entries for some time. Everything started out slow, and I believe my journaling probably did not truly pick up speed until late 2009. That 2009 through early 2010 journal was far more utilitarian: a sequence of diary notes.
What is fascinating is glancing backwards and seeing these journals now. Most of my journaling was done through poetic prose, story, essays, and vague dialectics. Rarely did I discuss actual events occurring in my life. Yet, I can see as I walk through each life segment the tragedy of each time, the triumphs. In the end of 2009 where my writing dives into sadness at the loss of a great friend; in the hopeful, early seasons of 2010 where I was realizing dreams; in the mid-seasons of 2010 when I lost the same friend, again, and the crushing of dreams; in late 2010 with A's difficult time where his brother was sick; in 2011, when A found S and I started my first nanowrimo. In 2012 when A disappeared into California, Matthew had some interesting relationships, P got out of the house, a family friend died, new house with new people, a graduation of my best friend, Matthew (was that really just 2012? 7 years of school... hehehe) - so much changed in 2012. And now, this year with its own crazy ride. I look back at the prayers I wrote, the fasts I followed, the stories I wrote, the pain I battled, the joys I praised through over and over, the friends I pleaded for and love so dearly, the poetry of a soul living.
There are some motifs, it seems. Two favorite recurring phrases in the darker times: Dum Spiro Spero and "Time Inexorable" which is something that comforted me when high school was miserable. During blessed, joyful times, motifs such as different Psalms of joy, more poetry, paeans, a bright fable or myth. I did not get my story into the anthology (only twenty people got in out of over a thousand entries). I'm a bit disappointed, but the publishing is creative commons, which means I get to see who did end up winning once it's published. I actually suspect that I could have been denied because my story was a tad... odd. It leaned towards the urban, weird genre rather than traditional fantasy or sci-fi. The experience was by no means a loss, and I actually do enjoy the story I wrote (at least a bit). Hopefully another anthology opportunity stumbles on by soon enough.
There are some motifs, it seems. Two favorite recurring phrases in the darker times: Dum Spiro Spero and "Time Inexorable" which is something that comforted me when high school was miserable. During blessed, joyful times, motifs such as different Psalms of joy, more poetry, paeans, a bright fable or myth. I did not get my story into the anthology (only twenty people got in out of over a thousand entries). I'm a bit disappointed, but the publishing is creative commons, which means I get to see who did end up winning once it's published. I actually suspect that I could have been denied because my story was a tad... odd. It leaned towards the urban, weird genre rather than traditional fantasy or sci-fi. The experience was by no means a loss, and I actually do enjoy the story I wrote (at least a bit). Hopefully another anthology opportunity stumbles on by soon enough.
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