A Return and A New Theme

Firstly, let me apologise for my distinct lack of activity on the blog. Having started a new job after several months of being unemployed, it has taken some getting used to; especially with such strange hours. For anyone who is interested, I’m working for a telesales company - where most of my work-life experience lies - and am selling insurance. Working from 10:30am until 8:00pm, I’ve found myself with not a whole lot of time to do a great deal besides working and sleeping.

But, having started to finally adjust once more to the world of work, I am happy to announce that I will once again be posting on a regular basis here at A Writer’s Journey! So, you can all look forward to seeing regular writing related articles from me once more.

On that note, let me firstly make comment about the loss of a great fantasy author, someone who propelled me into the realms of reading fantasy, and inspired me to write more prolifically - David Eddings. I first read his Elenium trilogy back in Year 5 of middle school (which would have made me, what, 9 or 10 years old - I think) and was gripped by the world of Sparkhawk and his companion knights. Ever since, I have been a massive fan of Eddings’ work, and must express a sadness at his passing.

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On a more positive note, however, we will have a new theme for the next couple of weeks here at A Writer’s Journey. Following on from the theme of characters, I think the next logical step would be to look at plot. As such, we’ll be discussing the elements of a plot, how to plan your plot, along with ways to make otherwise ‘generic’ or ‘cliched’ plots original and different.

I’m hoping for lots of discussion here, as I know everyone has different views, preferences, and methodologies.

In terms of post schedule, I’ll be looking at posting three times a week from now on: Monday, Wednesday and Friday. That should be much more manageable for me in terms of time, and means I’ll be able to focus properly on the content. Any feedbacks on the new schedule is welcome, by the way.

My Favourite Characters

As a pleasant end to the theme of characters, I thought it would be pertinent to name just a few of my favourites. From movies, books and TV, the follwing are all characters I’d recommend watching or reading about. For me, they help make the film/book/TV series a joy to read/write.

Perrin Aybara

This character had to be first. My favourite character fom my favourite series of books. One of three leads from the late Robert Jordan’s ‘Wheel of Time’ series, Perrin is my personal highlight to the epic tale. The son of a blacksmith, he finds himself drawn into events that are beyond his control. A modest fellow, he is forced to become a leader of men, and must battle his own inner demons whilst protecting those he loves.

Caught between doing what is right and escaping a situation he detests, Perrin’s internal conflict nicely displays a human side that is almost stereotypical of the anti-hero. Yet, he struggles on without so much as a complaint. In the middle of a battle for his affection, torn between two lives, he hopes only to one day return to his father’s forge. It will be interesting to see how his story ends in the final book.

Noah Bennett

From the Heroes TV series, Noah exemplifies in my mind the man caught in a ‘catch 22′ situation. Everything he does, he believes is for the protection of his family; specifically his daughter, Claire. He turns his back, seemingly, on what is the right thing to do, so he can manipulate and threaten in order to achieve his goals. Ruthless and cold, he’ll even endanger Claire’s love of him to protect her.

Part of my love for this character, I’ll admit, comes from the way he is portrayed. There is always an element of doubt surrounding Noah (also known as HRG - Horn Rimmed Glasses - a name he was given before his real role was revealed), and it is never quite clear if his selflessness is genuine. It would be interesting to see what he’d do if it was his death or Claire’s.

Althalus

The perfect example of an anti-hero, Althalus, from David and Leigh Eddings’ ‘Redemption of Althalus,’ this character is a real joy. A theif and general no-gooder, Althalus is given the job of stealing a book from a house - for lots of gold. Events don’t work quite as planned, and he is forced to engage in a mission to save the world in the midst of a ‘War of the Gods.’ It’s his acidic wit and playful antics that make Althalus enjoyable early on in the book.

As responsibility weighs down on him, and we begin to see a change, his transformation into a genuinely good guy is a difficult one, and he must battle with his inner, irresponsible criminal prevent the death of new-found friends along with the rest of the world. It is amusing to see him use techniques applied to robbery in battle, and when they work, even more so.

Silas

From the much talked-about novel by Dan Brown, ‘The Da Vinci Code.’ This monk turned killer offers us an insight into just how far brainwashing and manipulation can go. He kills in the name of God, at the order of his Opus Dei master, yet knows it is wrong so punishes himself constantly to repent of the sins.

An innocent brought into a war in the most hideous of ways, there is a certain child-like quality to Silas. Had he not been manipulated into a killer, perhaps he would have done some good in the world.

Other Favourites

Who are your favourite characters from various media? Why do you like them? Share your favourites with us all!

A Promise Kept and A Teaser Given

Recently, I’ve been both distracted by events out of my control and guilty of procrastination in regards to the writing of my novella. This was bothering me a little bit, until I was reminded about this post by Robert Hruzek.

As such, I made a pledge on Twitter that I would have either the prologue or first chapter complete by Tuesday. Well, two days before that, I’ve managed to complete my prologue for what will act as the prequel to my ‘main’ novel I’m working on.

And below, you can find that prologue in full. A teaser, if you will, for the rest of the book. Please give any feedback, as that will be more than welcome.

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The room was alive with activity as the midwife went about her work. She nervously prepared buckets and bowls of warm water; whispered orders to her aides, hoping that the young women would be able to perform the tasks given them with the proficiency she expected. Men bustled around the doorway, kept from entering the room by two stalwart guards - The mother and grandmother of the young woman laid on the bed. Both had cudgels in hand, and had already been forced to use them on at least one occasion each.
“Just relax, dear.” Bethak, the midwife, spoke in calm, soothing tones as the girl began to wail in agony. The contractions had been getting progressively worse over the past two days but still no child arrived, something which concerned all in the village of Vejar.
“How do you expect me to…” A scream overpowered all other noise, and the midwife sighed as she waited for the girls to return from the other room. “Just do something! I can’t take this!”
“I will, child, I will.” Rubbing hands together and pacing back and forth, the grey haired, plump woman allowed an acidic glare at the door each time she faced it. Stopping when the kettle began to whistle, she poured the dark fluid into a wooden mug. “Here.”
Lifting the girl’s head, Bethak began to pour the thick mixture into her mouth. “This will ease the pain, Kendre, so drink.”
It was a few minutes of more pacing and glaring until the young assistants returned, carrying clean sheets, clothes, and a wooden box. They quickly laid them out on the table, returning to their positions against the wall to watch, with a visible unease, Kendre continue to writhe in pain. Shuffling feet and wringing hands, casting fleeting glances one to the other, they dared not to speak.
For so short a woman, her grey hair wrapped by white cloth into a bun, Bethak carried a presence that filled the room as she opened the box, giving a shake of her head. Taking a bottle of Trelanich wine and a thick cloth, she moved back to the girl. “This will be over soon, my child. I promise.”
She lifted the thin dress to reveal the belly of the girl, poured the wine on the cloth, spilling no small amount on the floor in excess, and rubbed it all over the swollen torse of Kendre. Needless to say, the two guards had closed the door to prevent ogling eyes from gazing in at their kin’s exposure.
A knife was pulled from the wooden box then, which too was wiped with the cloth. It was a nasty looking tool which, when Bethak lightly ran a finger against the edge, cut her finger neatly. Sucking on the wound, she turned back to the girl, knife in hand, a sadness in eyes grey as her hair. “This is the only way.”
The three against the wall gasped, mouths agape, and Kendre’s eyes widened as her face turned a deathly white. “What, what are you doing?!” She shouted in panic, struggling to move herself from the bed.
“Hold her down.” The apprentices moved quickly, hastened by the sharp tone from their teacher, grabbed Kendre’s shoulders and forced her to lay on the bed. A moment or two later, Kendre began to stop writing. “Good. The medicine is starting to work. Keep her still.”

By the time Bethak had finished, the night had matured and most of the men had left the doorway of the house. A small cry was heard, and the two guards, no longer caring for their duty, rushed into the room. They were followed by two men: Kendre’s father and husband. The blacksmith and the miller’s son.
“It’s a boy. Though, I’m afraid the long birth may have done him harm.” With the child in her arms, not yet washed, Bethak turned to show the new entrants.
All gasped. Kendre’s mother collapsed to the floor, to be quickly cradled by Jont, her husband, who had turned a nauseous green colour. Jurane, the eldest of the women, lowered her head and closed her eyes. Flen rushed to his wife, stroking her sweat-covered pretty face in fear. “What happened?” He avoided looking at the still open belly of his wife as he pleadingly asked for explanation from the midwife.
“I do not know. I haven’t ever seen anything like this, this disaster.” She looked at the poor girl laid open and then snapped an order to the the older of the three apprentices. “Sew her up, you fool!”
A few minutes of silence followed as Kendre was sewed shut. Bethak washed the boy, then wrapped him in the sheets, her hands shaking as she did so. “Would you like to hold your son?” Arms outstretched, her eyes pleaded with Flen.
He took the infant, looking at him with disdain. Skin as pale as fresh snow allowed what seemed like every vein to be clearly visible and hair far too thick, was just as white. Matted still from birth, the hair looked a mess and as Flen ran his hand softly through it to try smoothing it out, his hand was left full of near see through strands. A tear fell down his cheek.
It took a few minutes for Flen to notice the strangest aspect of his newly born first child. His eyes. The irises were a pale red and he swore they glowed with a crimson hue. Even through his lids, the light was clearly noticeable. Flen started to cry.
Jurane laid a hand on the young man’s shoulder, also looking down at the child. “What are you naming him?”
“Look at the boy, Jur! Look at him! And all you’re concerned about is his name?!”
“Shh. Don’t make the poor child cry. I see him perfectly well, and while he is different, inexplicably so, he will need you and his mother more than any child ever has.”
Understanding the distress in the room, and the hardships ahead, Bethak ushered her three assistants out of the room and followed them, leaving Flen, Jurane and the others to recollect themselves. “How can I look at him when he’s like… Well, how he is?”
“You will learn.”

Months and years passed and Jurane had been right. Kendre and Flen did learn to love their son, and they showed the boy, who they had named Jerod, as much affection and love as had any other parents. Perhaps even more. They allowed him to learn the art of the blacksmith, and despite being young, he showed great prowess.
“Happy birthday, Jerod.” Kendre looked at her son as he entered the small lounge of the single floor home. He was now thirteen, and the past year spent at the forge had transformed him from a sickly whip of a child into what hinted at a strong man.
“Thank you, mother. Granpa let me take the day off, so I can relax all day.” His voice still held the pitch of a lad not yet approaching adulthood. As he sat down, he moved his hand to wipe at a stray hair, though stopped short. Even now, it had the tendency to fall out if touched and he had only a thin covering anyway, though still long.
“You should play with your friends today then.” Kendre had lost the youthful beauty she possessed all those years ago, and though still quite young, her appearance was that of a much older women. The years had played heavy on both her and Flen: People did not accept their child, seeing him as a freak, and on several occasions were they nearly thrown out of the village.
Jerod only nodded, and jumped up to leave the house. He had taken what ridicule and taunting his parents could not prevent with surprising resilience. Often he had not been aware of any such talk, but when he was, a simple shrug was all he gave; dismissing any and all insults.
When he got outside, the village was busy in preparation for the second largest event of the year: the Springtide Ball. A festival of the upcoming work and beauty; everyone would be dressed in their best and enjoying the company of each other in dances, food and merriment. Jerod was looking forward to the event this year. He’d finally ask Herryl for that dance he’d dreamed of so often.
“Jerod!” He looked to where the shout had originated, smiling widely when he saw the pig-faced Mical running towards him. Giving a wave, Jerod waited for his life-long friend.
“Look at it,” the veiny lad swept his arm grandly to take in the village green and all the preparations taking place, “Springtide Ball! It’ll be the best yet!”
“You’re still planning on asking her for a dance?” For a young boy so faced like a baby, Mical’s voice was surprisingly deep. Mayhap the extra year he had on Jerod made all the difference between their pitch.
“Without doubt. I can feel tomorrow is the right time.” He twirled a little, mocking a popular dance. “Then we’ll be dancing all night ’til dawn!” He laughed, which came out more like a giggle.
“Speaking of which, there she is.” Pointing off into the crowd, Mical signalled that Herryl was on the green. Jerod blushed.
“Shh, you dolt. I don’t want to draw more attention than necessary, and your pointing off at people won’t help.”
“Well, look who’s snappy today. Your birthday doesn’t give right to act like a thorn-footed mule.”
Jerod playfully punched at his friend’s arm with feigned anger. Then he ran down towards the green and all the preparations: They were just as much fun as the Ball itself. At least, for the younger ones who could simply watch and have their excitement build up.
Reaching the crowds with Mical only a short distance behind him, Jerod gave hellos to a few of the people he knew, and started to look around at all the activity. Cloth pavilions striped red and blue were organised with tall poles between them, rope hanging for the lamps that would be placed at the various loops, tables being set beneath their roofs where food would be laid out for all to feast upon, and food was being cooked. The smells of potatoes, parsnips and chickens filled the air, boiling in large cauldrons that Jerod himself had helped to make at the forge, roasting over open spits that were guarded by the young men of the village against dogs.
Conversation filled the air: countless discussions about the food and dancing to come; orders being shouted; hands being hit by wooden spoons and protestations at not yet being allowed to taste what was in the pots; happy playing of the younger children who simply were soaking up the enjoyment, still too young to fully understand the event; whispers of discontent as people noticed the white haired boy with glowing red eyes, unhappy at his presence here - at an event intended for decent folk.
Herryl. He would have noticed her in a crowd of thousands, but today Jerod was entrapped inside the beauty he saw. A slim girl with brown hair that bounced as she walked, loose curls framing a pretty face that was slightly tanned.
“Jerod? Jerod!” Micah pushed the younger boy who then jumped a little. “Welcome back to the real world. Stop staring, donkey mind, it’s weird.”
“What are you talking about? I only glanced at her.” A mild frustration was in his voice as he returned the push.
“A five minute glance?” Micah stuck out his tongue and laughed heartily.
“Leave me alone.”
“I think I will actually.” Micah then whipped around the corner of a pavilion, disappearing into the crowd. Jerod once again found himself sighing.

For a while longer the boy stood around, taking in the buzz of activity, then found himself face to face with Herryn. He hadn’t ever been able to blush, but the veins on his face seemed to grow, as did a lump in his throat. He simply stared at the girl, not able to form words.
“What?” Herryn’s voice was musical, and yet held a biting tone. “This is what a normal person looks like, do you not understand? No one wants to see your face. It’s offensive.” She walked off with a strut.
Jerod fell to his knees. As his hands hit the grass beneath him, tears began to fall and his body shook violently as he tried to absorb the words spoken to him. He’d received the taunts before, been told that he was unwelcome, yet he had never reacted to them. All of a sudden, however, it was as though the pain of all those other occasions had been let loose. He let out a scream as he saw, quite literally, red. “Damn you all! Might a curse be left on all your heads.”
Flen, who had been putting up yet another pole, heard his son’s wail and ran to him. People in the green watched the boy, his face contorted with anger, and backed away. “What’s wrong son?”
“Leave me alone!” Jerod shouted again, and as he looked at his father, even he shifted, quite unwillingly, away from his only child. Eyes no longer had just a crimson glow to them, it was as though they were aflame. He screamed again, tears still running down his face, though it sounded more like a roar: animalistic, predatory, angry.
Then it began. On his clothes fire burst forth, as though a physical manifestation of anger. Of hatred. Of pain. Then it exploded. The sound was deafening, and a moment later the green was wrapped inside a fire that burned near white-hot. Screams were heard faintly behind the roar of the destructive dance of flames; people being burned alive as a thick black smoke rose over Vejar.
Quickly the fire spread, expanding to the houses, engulfing all within its ever-growing mass. As it grew, it became hotter, searing through wood and brick like a knife through butter. Until, after only a matter of seconds, it was gone.
And with it, so was the village, its people, its buildings, the pavilions and all the grass. No sign was left that this small area of land had been a village; except for the large scorch upon the earth, leaving a black-brown scar on the land.

It was an end. It was a beginning. It was death, and it was birth.

A Break Can Be A Good Thing

For just short of two weeks, I’ve been at a friend’s house. As such, I’ve been able to take a break from most of my writing. This blog (though I did manage to get a couple posts published), my novel, and my short story.

While my flow has been disturbed, I believe the break was a perfectly good thing: The mental rest was welcomed, and stepping away from the world of writing has allowed my mind to clear considerably. I’ve returned home, and to my projects with more ideas and a greater perspective.

Being able to focus on more than my writing, I found that ideas popped into my head from time to time. Ideas that perhaps wouldn’t have done so otherwise. Ideas that I’ve been able to mill over and develop, ready now to apply them.

It’s interesting for me to see the change in clarity that has occurred. Previously, when working on projects, I’ve taken the mindset that I should work until finished. This little hiatus has shown me that a break can be a good thing.

Your Breaks

What are your thoughts on taking an extended break from writing? Do you gain or lose focus? What are you experiences here? Let us know!

Community Writing: Roleplay

This is the second suggestion made to me on Twitter for what people would like to see on here. Suggested by Joanna Young over at Confident Writing. Very focused on community, it was no surprise that Joanna made this great suggestion.

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Roleplaying at its core is taking control of a single character among many to make a story with other writers. Building and developing a world in which to place those characters, developing plot, allowing relationships to form between characters, and finally completing the story.

But, is that it? Is there another aspect to roleplaying that the ‘general’ definition omits? I would say so: A side-effect of group creative writing would definitely be community.

Sites like Roleplay Gateway are a prime example of this. With forums for general chatter, a place to ’show off’ artwork and poetry, prose and music; Gateway (as it’s fondly referred to by its members) is a great example of a place where you are not just writing in collaboration, but also part of a much wider community. And with the added benefit of a chat built into the site, the community aspect is greatly increased.

So, why does roleplay open itself so readily to creating community?

It’s because communication is key when working together. Be it on the chat, on the forums, or via private messages and IM, you need to communicate for your roleplay to succeed. Planning on general plot, adding your own twists and sub-plots between characters/players; it all requires you to talk with your fellow writers.

Through this, friendships are created rather quickly: You get an insight into the writer as a person from his writing and ideas, conversations on plot turn into “Hey, how are you today?” and the next thing you know, a friend has been made. Overall, the experience is a good one, and the community aspect is something a lot of roleplayers actually roleplay for.

With so wide a demographic; from young teens just discovering the joys of writing, to seasoned roleplayers and writers up to within their 40’s (the oldest I’ve seen is 42, I believe), you also get to see a greatly varying view on the world. And it is that one mutual interest which brings together so many people.

Your experiences

Have you roleplayed in the past, or still do? Been part of a writing community of any kind? What were/are you experiences? Share them with us!

Spring Cleaning for Your Desk and Mind

Yesterday on Twitter I ran a little survey about what people wanted to see on the blog. I got a pretty good response, and this is one of the ideas suggested to me. The suggestion came from Andrew Hayes and I felt it was a fantastic suggestion.

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The days are getting longer, the weather warmer and soon it’ll be Easter. That’s right! It’s the spring! A time of birth and new beginnings, and traditionally when feather dusters, bleach, furniture polish and all manner of cleaning stuff gets dragged from cupboards for Spring Cleaning.

As writers, maybe we too should do a Spring Clean. Our desks may or may not be cluttered with all manner of trinkets and pieces of paper, so maybe we should organise the area where we unleash our sword (pen… Or keyboard) to help us stay focused. I know that when I look at my desk, the thought of giving it a good de-clutter is daunting: Pens, old and empty lighters, scraps of paper, letters, CDs and DVDs with either music, movies or data on them; magazines, glasses and a teaspoon!

There is so much there to distract me from writing, many reasons to procrastinate, and with the TV remote on there in the mix too… Well, you get the picture, I’m sure. It certainly isn’t cohesive to healthy writing. So, what should I get rid of? What should I make sure is there?

Pens are a great idea. How else can I jot down those random ideas that come to me on a whim? Though scraps of paper don’t fit in with that: They can go. I’ll need a notebook, probably A5 in size, spiral bound. This makes note taking really easy and sometimes, let’s be honest, opening up a new Notepad window and typing your idea, even in this digital age can take a lot longer than using pen and paper. Note taking, as a writer is very important, as I’m sure you all know.

Cigarette lighters, mugs and teaspoons can all go in the bin or sink. Letters can go in the right folders and CDs and DVDs can go back in their cases, nicely neat and tidy. The TV remote, as much as I like being able to control the telly from my desk, can go on top of the TV where it belongs, I think. After all, I’ll be much less likely to turn it on when writing if I have to move to do so.

Phew! *Wipes brow* That done, and my desk looks a million times better! And with a tidy environment, my mind can work much more clearly. And I think it’s time to put my newly purchased notebook to use.

Spring cleaning for your mind is nowhere near as easy as your desk: It’s not just about removing anything distracting or messy. We’re now into the fourth month of the year… I wonder just how many ideas, thoughts, goals and other miscellanea have been floating around in your head since January? For me, there’s been a lot. All jumbled up and in no real order.

So, in this time of Spring Cleaning, maybe we should get our minds in order as well. Put down those goals, make them targets: Who, what, when, where and why? The ideas need to be jotted down, given order and organisation. Also, writing them down, like saying them, makes it all much more real than a mere whim. I spent a considerable while today getting my thoughts, goals and ideas in order. Maybe you should give it a try?

Bring your own duster!

What do you do when Spring Cleaning your desk and mind? Any hints, tips or tricks you find useful? Let us know!

And if we get enough ideas, I’ll throw together a nice post on Spring Cleaning tips from the Writer’s Journey community.

My First E-publication

Having seen George Angus’ review of the e-book publishing service Smashwords over at Tumblemoose Writing Services, I knew I just had to give it a try. E-books, while still only making up a very tiny percentage of book sales, are a growing industry. The proliferation of such gadgets as the Sony Reader and the iPhone’s Stanza application will only help the e-book industry to grow.

A free service that takes your Word document and converts it into various e-book formats, then, sounds very enticing. Especially to a writer like myself, trying to get into the industry beyond hobbies. I was itching to give it a try.

A Decision Had To Be Made

What, exactly, would I make an e-book out of? As a first attempt, I knew it best to follow George’s “An Inspired Query Letter” and make my ebook free. I didn’t, however, want any of my ‘real’ work to be readily available for nothing. So I had to decide on a subject matter.

I finally decided to compile an anthology of various roleplaying posts I had written. I did this for two reasons: Firstly, the content was readily available and required very little work on my part. Secondly, it would serve as a great way to display my writing ability.

So off I went, finding various roleplay posts from the two and a half years I’ve been taking part in the past-time. Organising them by date order, I made the rest of the content: An introduction to the e-book, and a small paragraph of background to each post.

The Process

I typed everything up in the Ubuntu equivalent of Notepad, then formatted the e-book as outlined in the Smashwords Style Guide. Or so I had thought (more on that later).

Registration was quick and easy, taking all of about three or four minutes including ‘account activation.’ The easy-to-use navigation gives a nice “Publish” link that, you got it, is where you publish your ebook. Allowing you to add a synopsis (400 or so characters long), tags, and categorisation the first page is nice and simple. You can also add an image to act as the front cover; something I opted out of.

Uploading your Word document is as easy as you’d expect: Browse to the relevant file, click okay, then click upload. Then your file is run through what is fondly referred to as the ‘Meat Grinder’ to be converted into the various e-book formats on offer. This took a couple of minutes for my 33 page e-book.

The Value of Proof-Reading

A greatly important lesson was taken from this little outing into the e-publication world: Proof-read, proof-read, proof-read!

I did have some initial formatting issues that meant the HTML Reader on Smashwords didn’t recognise any paragraph returns in my book; making it just a single block of text! This was my own fault, for not fully following the Style Guide, but I managed to fix it.

Then, the worst thing happened when I re-checked the HTML Reader (which thankfully was now working)! My actual roleplay posts, some of which were from as far back 2006, were riddled with various errors: Typographical, missing or added words, spelling errors etc.

I knew that none of my ‘new’ content in the e-book had any errors, and I had been sure that all my older stuff was proof-read back when I originally wrote them. Not the case. I had to read through everything once more to correct any mistakes, and then re-upload the e-book once again.

For this, it is really easy: There is an “Upload new version” option in your ‘dashboard’ on the site, and takes only a minute or so; needing only to upload the file and convert it - After all, the rest of the information is still there.

Finally, I’d Finished!

“Excerpts From Role Playing Endeavours” was at last published and suitable for being read.

Overall, the process was an enjoyable, and my own errors aside, the Smashwords service is fantastic. Simple, easy to use, intuitive and most all… Free to use! I expect that I will be using it again in the future. Perhaps to even publish some of my work non-free.

Thanks must be given to George, though, for sharing such a great discovery with us all.

Twitter As a Writing Tool

For the past two or three weeks, I’ve been getting myself involved with Twitter for the first time. It’s certainly an interesting beast: 140 characters to get your message across. Anything from what you are doing at any given moment, to chatting with other Twitters in the ‘Twitterverse.’ Think of a heavily simplified Facebook and you pretty much have Twitter in a nutshell.

Yet, I cannot help but wonder what it actually does for me. It allows a much more open networking facility than Facebook, is less full of gimicks like poking and sheep-hurling while still maintaining that sense of connection. But what does it do for me as a writer?

• Teaches me to be concise. An average of 20-ish words isn’t a lot to convey what you’re thinking or feeling.
• Connections with other writers. At the moment I have only a small network and a fair few are writers. Who better to make friends with and have the opportunity of learning from.
• Offers inspiration. Such people as Joanna Young and Amy Palko and a few others near constantly seem in a good mood with motivating things to say that can inspire. Links posted from blogs or other such things also offer sources of inspiration: Be it photos, articles, funny stories, it all adds up to inspiring me to write something.

And on that last note, I must make mention of the Confident Writing community’s lessons from blogging, summarised here. A great collection of experiences and something I, as a new blogger, will find greatly useful in the learning process.

Your experiences?

How have you found the Twitter experience? Has it helped you in any way? If so, how?

You can follow me on Twitter: @MattHaywardUK

The First Step

This is the first step of my journey as a writer. My first blog entry! I’d like to thank primarily Joanna Young over at Confident Writing for inspiring me to actually write a blog.

The purpose of this blog is to document my progresion as a writer. My thoughts, inspirations, problems (writer’s block and what not), and how each step taken helps me to grow as a writer. And, along the way, I hope that you will be able to discuss, learn and teach as I take you along for the ride.