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Posts Tagged ‘write’

If you can tell stories, create characters, devise incidents, and have sincerity and passion, it doesn’t matter a damn how you write.

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Amy: They clinked teacups and sipped their hot drinks, the steam rising and twirling before them, while the rain pelted down against the soft green earth outside. Amy wishing and naively believing, as a young mind is inept to do, that death was still a long long way away … but she was wrong.

Rose: Her daughter nodded more in acknowledgement than in agreement but the mood remained as dreary as the weather and Rose, taking it upon herself to lift the mood, tried to shake off the vibe that stuck to them like a wet blanket. ‘Today is a celebration, so let’s forget the bad news and celebrate,’ she said enthusiastically, raising her voice to an almost cheer, bringing a sudden spark to their energy and a smile to both their faces. Rose hoped with everything she had that it would last but as they drank their tea and watched the rain roll down the window, she could only see tears, lots and lots of tears that only supported her deathly premonition.

Excerpt – The Wish List – Grant Ackermann

 

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The darkness before dawn. The mumbling of prayers. Feeling alone when thousands are by your side. Last thoughts of family and friends. They sit in silence, waiting. Now the moment is upon them. Even the wind stops so there could be no mistaking the instruction that was about to be given.

Then the ramps lower and they charge forward, pushing aside anxiety and fear, letting courage and pride lead them by their hands and their hearts. Immediate flashes from an invisible enemy and the thunderous rattling, cracking sounds of gunfire rain down. Agonising screams of despair cutting through the now howling winds. The sun, finally peeking its head, brings light to those fallen, their tumbling bodies caressed to shore by the gentle hands of the waves. The smell of gunpowder doing little to mask the stench of death. The metallic hope of weapons, clutched with white-knuckled hands, offer no defense to an advantaged enemy. The red spray of saltwater touches lips and faces, mixing with tears, before rolling down the faces of a young nation. But it’s their will to keep moving forward, their courage and determination to fight for what they love and believe in … that true ANZAC spirit that never gives up and defines who we are and that makes us proud to be Australian.

Today on ANZAC Day we will stand and we will be proud. They will always be our heroes and we will forever be grateful for their sacrifice. We will acknowledge the past and we will celebrate the future. We will give thanks for our privileges and who we are as a nation. And we will remember and salute them … lest we forget!

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If you can tell stories, create characters, devise incidents, and have sincerity and passion, it doesn’t matter a damn how you write.

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As the warmth of summer slowly dwindles and the chlorophyll pigmentation that had once burst through with vibrancy of a new spring surrenders to the yellow ripening of autumn leaves, winter whispers with a cold breath that it is coming.

It’s goodbye to the salty spray of ocean waves meeting your face and lips, or the soothing sensation of the slow trickle of sand between your bare toes at the beach. It’s time to put away your thongs and find your warmer clothes, crank up the hot water in the shower, and turn the dial to warm the house during those soon-to-be frosty mornings.

It’s time to complain as we turn back the clocks, growling for more sleep as the morning alarm blares us from slumber, like awakening grizzly bears from early hibernation, in what seems the middle of the night.

It’s time to hunt that wascally wabbit, to prove to your kids that the Easter bunny is indeed real, even though it somehow always seems to escape right in the nick of time, leaving the sweet taste of chocolate and melting butter on carefully grilled hot cross buns as a reminder that he will return again next year.

The flight of footballs cart-wheeling through back yards and children mimicking their favourite players, taking speckies on lush green ovals, brings an excitement that has you searching for your team scarf and beanie; that has your mouth watering for hot chips and pies, and has you dominating the TV remote in fear of missing the next big match. Yes, the footy is back and all is once again right with the world.

Yet, sadly, it’s all a stark reminder that your summer vacation is all but over. It’s time to get back to work, to make up for lost time and do what you do best. It’s time to meet deadlines and create magic. It’s time to imagine all possibilities and to dream bigger than you ever have before. But most importantly, it’s time to write.

So leave that summer complacency behind you, forget about lazy afternoons, contemplations and observations. Find your pen and your mojo and drive yourself to work harder than you ever have before.

So what are you waiting for? It’s April you fool!

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Any man who keeps working is not a failure. He may not be a great writer, but if he applies the old-fashioned virtues of hard, constant labor, he’ll eventually make some kind of career for himself as a writer.

 

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Definitions for stultify – verb [stuhl-tuh-fahy]

  1. to make, or cause to appear, foolish or ridiculous.
  2. to render absurdly or wholly futile or ineffectual, especially by degrading or frustrating means: Menial work can stultify the mind.
  3. Law. to allege or prove (oneself or another) to be of unsound mind.

He seeked her mercy. He was late, so, so late. And he was drunk, so, so drunk. He managed flowers and chocolates, but no matter how straight he stood or how sober he tried to look, the vomit stains down his top would stultify him. He opened the door and wondered if he would see another anniversary.

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