the wire

{via pinterest}

down to the wire now, i suppose.

less than thirty-two days until the madness of nanowrimo starts up.

and i'm starting to breathe this story, i think. so little is compiled, but i have a grasp. so little is known, but i've figured this path out.

i know this girl. i don't even know her name yet. but i know her. i know her heart, her soul, her mind and her wishes. i know her secrets.

i know this man she loves. i read his thoughts like a book and his letters as though they were addressed to me.

is that strange? 

thinking back to my first nano, i had no idea what to expect.

it was a handmade video that Ali posted. and an email shared between her and i.

this journey brought me my best friend.

it laid a fictional foundation, but showed me a soul sister in reality.

i picture my inspiration here. what my words can't invent, these pinboards compile together. it's making a story, little by little.

is this rambling? perhaps. but so much thoughts lead to dancing rambles through literary meadows.

thirty-two days. 

i can't wait, loves.

hurry up, November.

i'm waiting.

{if you still have no idea what nanowrimo is, slip over to the site and learn more. you won't regret it, i promise.}

-blessings abound,

rachel

composer

i’m a novelist.

it’s one of those things that slightly mandates my life, particularly during the month of November.

November is National Novel Writing Month. affectionately known to the writer world as the start of nanowrimo.

it is during this month that i and hundreds of other insane authours will embark upon one of the most incredible and frightening endeavours of our lifetimes.

50,000 words. 30 days. innumerable cups of coffee, endless playlists of Imogene Heap and Alex Goot, and a straight month of kissing midnight. 

one incredible novel.

or perhaps a collection of 50,000 words of ramble. it depends on how much sleep we get.

it’s this music we compose.

{won't you join me here for the rest?}

blessings abound

-rachel

Rule #1

There is only one real rule to writing. Sure we have our grammar rules, spelling, outlines etc. but none of it matters unless you allow yourself to let go. You must purposefully put yourself out there. You must allow yourself to dream big and publicly display your imagination. As a writer, you have to become okay with the potential for embarrassment, for people to not understand you. It is essential that you shake it out and just write. Let your soul be free and allow it to take you wherever it wants to go.

Sometimes I will sit there staring at a blank page afraid to put my pen to it's white unblemished surface. The ideas in my head start to disappear as I hear my grammar 101 kicking in. Don't think, just write! That is what editing is for. Do not let the fear of failure hold you back from the story inside of you.

You where made to be heard

So be proud

Be Bold

Be Loud

Without making a sound.

You are a writer because you have a story.

Keep Calm and Drink Tea - Ali

first person shoes

i obsess over first person.

i've written three "books." two were first person. one was third.

the first person books are my compilations of OCD and too much thought. i struggle through them, tears drip down onto torn pages of frustration and overly furled browlines.

but i know why. it's because i don't want my voice in amid the fiction.

not even a note.

i don't know why i refuse to let my own voice slip into the mind of my characters. maybe because i'm too afraid of what might come out, what truths about me i might accidentally let into the open air.

i don't want to be the one to fill these empty shoes. 

but i'm steering away from this fear.  bit by fragile bit.

it's from reading a book. one thousand gifts by Ann Voskamp. she makes this thing of first person so simple. or maybe so hard yet made effortless by the voice of the King.

either way.

she pours herself out. 

yes, this volume is non-fiction and tells of truthful events and heartcries, not created characters. but yet the richness is still there.

she makes me think i can do this, truthfully. maybe with fiction, i can make it a little less fictional and a little more real. because this is real life after all.

naught but truth and honesty found here anymore.

so my fiction will be real. my real life will be through the filter of ancient days and past events that never truly came about.

but isn't that what we do here?

isn't that novelling, after all?

~blessings abound,

rachel

eyes

i have an obsession with my character's eyes.

actually, i'm obsessed with eyes in general. maybe it has something to do with the spiritual connotation found behind these rich pools of ocular beauty.

the eye is the lamp of the body

it's true, though. so much can be spoken through a simple glance. a moment spent gazed into another's eyes can be enough to pass along an entire conversation and more left unspoken. 

eyes are mirrors of the heart. 

and when it comes to my characters within those stories so close to my heart, i cannot be pulled away.

what hides behind them? what isn't being said? or what is being said so much louder than the tongue can convey? 

i have spent hours studying photos of eyes. reading their stories. 

eyes are books. pages of novels. 

i want to know. 

i want to see and read their hearts through these minuscule portals that i am allowed on this earth. 

maybe this makes me odd or strange or completely irrational. i would not be insulted if you said so, as the greatest of writers have been deemed strange. 

so strange is a good thing.

and i'm rambling. 

but that's okay. right? 

just let me see my characters' eyes. and i can try

and tell you their story. 

~blessings abound,

rachel 

ink dreams

via Pintrest

part of my novel came to me in my sleep last night.

rather, it was in that half-wakeful, half-dozing state that brings one to a place of reality and dreams unlike any other.

it was strange. i could hear the voice of my heroine. see the circumstances in her life...bits and pieces of them, anyway. i even heard portions of the prose itself narrated in my head in some unknown tone.

and then i awoke. 

and had forgotten most, if not all. 

i should have sat up and penned it all down. i now feel like something has been lost...like something is missing from within my soul.

this feeling of the forgotten

it is almost painful to my writer's heart. 

but in other respects, it is reassuring to me, as well.

i now know my characters live. my words breathe within me, and i can feel their life starting to surge in my blood.

i can still hear my heroine's voice in my ear, urging me forward.

i know i have something to give. something to write.

and in two months time, it will all begin.

and i will outline and plan and write down my scrappy thoughts

until the magic happens

soon. 

~blessings abound,

rachel