Unwritten.

I have sat here for a good hour tonight attempting to get cracking on another chapter of my Confessions Of A Wallflower book series, but nothing more than a line is coming to me.

Diving into the mind of a shy 14 year old who is greiving the loss of her best friend while beginning a fresh start in a new town, isnt much of a stretch for me, as this character is loosely based upon myself (minus the death of a friend, mine are all wonderfully still here.) What I am trying to write is a view on what I saw in my high school - my experiences in England and in Canada - and mould them into the lives of the stereotypes one would find at a high school: the jock, the popular girl, the nerd, the rebel and of course, the shy quiet outsider who narrates the story.

I am very drawn to characters who have more to them than meets the eye, whether they are the beauty or the geek, the chubby flute player or the permanent resident in detention. It’s interesting to watch and interesting to write and who doesnt have those memories of high school? Pleasant or not, we all have them.

My aim is to tell a story of Samantha and her experiences through the few individuals around her as she completes 4 years of high school; accepting her loss and that there is always more to something than is on the surface.

Fingers crossed I succeed in this goal.

Frank

You blind me with your colour

and heart.

You took the steps

but fell into the dark.

I can’t shake the though of you

in your twisted youth.

I hope you can remember me

when I need the truth.

Pages

I have an odd relationship with books. I love going to any bookstore to see what I can find. I mostly like going to the secondhand stores and finding books that have a message written in the first page. It makes me think of where this book has been, who it was given to and for what occasion; birthday, Christmas, Easter, a sister hand me down or a gift to someone recovering in hospital.

Currently by my side screaming to be read:

Go Ask Alice,
The English Patient
The Tracey Fragments
Claire's Head
Wild Dogs

My sister also gave me a couple of books I have somewhere calling me to read:

Confessions of a Shopoholic,
Secret Life Of Bees
The Divine Secrets of The Ya-Ya Sisterhood
The Girls Guide to Hunting & Fishing

I'll get to them, I know I will one day soon.

Practice Makes Perfect

That look in your eye reminds me I am alive

for what?

I’m hanging on to what never was

and you’re hanging onto the maybe just because.


Nothing is as what it seems,

but it never has been.

Maybe it’s all in my head?

It might be nice if you’d choose to believe it instead.


Who would it be easier for,

me or you?

One of us is a fool

to think we can walk down this road

soon.


I’ll dry my eyes,

fix a smile, leave the sidelines.

I’ll face the crowd

My voice never aloud

You can see it in my eyes, for you I am not alive.

Lungs

Lay me down

In my best sunday dress, ruffles all around

The cold beneath romances itself down my spine

I breathe in, I know I’ll be fine.

The sparkle in your button brown eyes ignites a fire

You hold me under

Your spell

This isnt a spark I care to fuel

Suddenly this became a duel

Your grip on me isnt welcomed

I’m in love with the wrong one

Water fills my lungs

This is no longer fun

Holding me under your spell

I can’t recall when you fell

My dress swims the tide line

My last breath crosses the finish line

my chemical romance

I know..
you are my world
you are the person I want to grow old with
I see myself in your eyes
You are not perfect
But neither am I.

I know..
You’re a poison running through my veins
I don’t know when it began.
A thousand li(f)es won’t break this smile
To be with you all the while.

I know..
I live like this because you’re not around
I try to get up but I fall to the ground.
Breathe life back into me so my heart can beat again.
I don’t want this to be my end.

professional unprofessional or just creatively challenged? Time will tell

So, I am writing a couple of script outlines. My 'unofficial better half' has demanded that I focus everything on outlines first rather than jumping into actual script, which is my bad habit. He's right and I know this, because as a writer I know my faults and bad habits. I also know when an idea works and I stick with it no matter how many rewrites it takes to nail it. (or how much it kicks my butt)

One feature is about a young photographer with AIDS set in 1980s New York, which is proving to be a battle for me. But a good one. The story is about a young straight male who contracts HIV, developing into AIDS and how little was known about the disease back when it was first discovered. I think people have a big misconception about HIV and AIDS to understand that it can effect anyone who has shared needles, has unprotected sex or a housewife whom contracts it from a blood transfusion as a result of childbirth. There is a stigma about the disease and thats one of the reasons why this story nags me to write it. Not to change everyone's opinion on the matter, but to show people that it doesnt efect a slim group of people. After ten years on the story, I havent given up just yet and I know I wont.

I started writing this story when I worked as a hotel front desk clerk for The Holiday Inn and the nights were so slow that I snuck my notebok out and wrote for at least 4 hours. I can seriously thank Tom Hanks for his performance in 'Philadelphia' for this script. The story of a succesful, intelligent, educated man with AIDS suing his boss for wrongful dismissal was facinating to say the least. Not to mention, this movie is brilliant. The writing, directing and acting is fantastic and if you havent seen it, you simply must.

Another script I am working on is about teenage bullying bewteen a shy girl and a popular girl. Its a side story which will be written into my teenage book series called Wallflower. You can find two snippets that will be in the book on this blog and my other blog leeleewoods.wordpress.com.
The idea for this story, I actually performed as a solo piece when I was 17 for my acting final in high school. I also performed this in an acting showcase when I was 18. I got an A for it, and I'm proud of the script I wrote, so Im extending the material.
The whole scene revolved around the shy girl whom had accidently killed her bully with a gun the other girl was holding. The scene took place in a church as the shy girl spoke to god whom she asked for forgiveness. At the time, Romeo and Juliet had just came out and I took the end scene setting from that movie with the candles in a church and worked it into my story. It was great, so I'm writing this as a feature.

I also want to write a script that explore the music scene because I like all types of music. light, dark, poppy, opera, punk, dance, country. its all good.

Only thing now to do is finish both stories and get them out there.
B.

Poem #26

Open my eyes
to my surprise
nothing is as it seems

Below my feet is the cold ground
where to turn but follow the sound

of your voice calling my name
throw me like a dice
in this neverending game

You bleed my heart so easy
remove these thorns and release me

Confessions Of A Wallflower: Book One, Chapter Two (snippet)

This night brings me to overlook the sleepy town we have migrated to. Arched rooftops molest the midnight blue sky illuminating at twelve. Nothing is as it seems, not even the sparkling stars desperate to dazzle the whites of my eyes.

Blue fingers cold on my own skin. My hoodie pulled tight. I fold up my knees under my chin. Why did Lorraine do it? I miss her face, her laugh, her indirect sisterhood. My best friend is no longer my shadow and I am no longer hers.

All that is left is a merrier photo; corners ruffled, smiling faces; no more. A prettied dresser; stickers covering the desk, scratched, corners lifting. My name, Lorraine’s name in coloured markers. Faded. My reflection is an infection. The mirror says I have the whole world ahead of me, I will be successful in whatever I chose to do with it; even telling me I am beautiful in my oversized t-shirt. I don’t believe it. My sleeves are torn and used. I’m not beautiful and that is how I will stay.

“Samantha? It’s almost midnight. First day of school tomorrow.” My father shyly stands in the doorway. Posters on the walls, a reminiscence of his youth. Rehabbing the thought of abandonment for one night, I retire to the comfort of my bed, saving the footnote for my own private farewell ceremony.

My eyes close.

Confessions Of A Wallflower: Book One (intro snippet)

Chapter One


I will never forget how she looked that day. The sun was shining through her brown long hair, loose by her side, dancing happily in the icy air that strangled this particular morning.
I found it odd she was wearing her prettiest dress in the middle of January. It was a summer dress made from yellow cotton. I had only seen it on special occasions. In a weird way, this is how she was celebrating a special occasion.

As I stood numb to any part of my body, the creaks of the rope noose rubbing against the tree branch infested my ears and the silence surrounding us. Lorraine’s lifeless body dangled somewhat peacefully as I searched for any sign of life. Her once magnetic green eyes that used to face me during staring contests in the fourth grade, now closed; her chipped painted finger nails that will never touch her grandmother’s piano keys; her ability to make me smile when I cannot- gone from the world I have known for the past fourteen years.

Lorraine was a happy person. She was my best friend, and I knew her better than anyone else. Or so I thought.

little update

I am working on new postings and such because it's been a while and this blog is starting to feel like a neglected child I'm sure.

I am using my writing talents at work, writing a few blog entries for them whch has been awesome and I have many more ideas for entries - I just need to get cracking on them.

My twitter is: www.twitter.com/bexwhiting

another blog I write on: http://www.wallflowerinthecorner.blogspot.com/
(I wil turn that into a book soon, or maybe just keep it the way it is, I havent decided just yet)

my aol: raranarablonde

B.