Tag Archives: creative

Writing Environment

A.R. Román:

Advice for writers, very helpful

Originally posted on The Roaming Bard:

The work environment of a writer is diverse and unique to the individual. While you may not realize it, there are a lot of factors that go in to a work environment. In this article I am going to touch on a few such factors and experiences of a writer and discuss my personal views/choices for each.

Music/Sound

Every writer/author is different when it comes to the whole music question. I know Patrick Rothfuss, author of the Kingkiller Chronicle, is an adamant backer for the idea of complete silence as he writes. Any noise of any kind is entirely detrimental to the writing and it’ll only serve as a distraction at best or influence the tone of your writing at the worst. How can you write a tender love scene if you have rock and roll, heavy metal music playing in the background?

Then there’s the other half, those, like me, who like…

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Ruta

A un reino / To a kingdom

English version below the Spanish.

El asfalto negro me transporta al pasado, a una juventud marcada con nostalgía en el espacio neuronal donde las memorias son tan solo reacciones químicas. De ellas nacen el deseo de recorrer el camino bordeado por árboles y rodeado de valles. Ese camino que corta por entre las montañas de la Cordillera Central de una isla sin medida precisa. Entre sus elevaciones verdes y la roca grisacea, entre el suspirar del alma y las preguntas de los pequeños, me adentro en su seno con deseo.

Una necesidad, quizás, es lo que me condujo hasta allí. Hasta los lugares que son besados por la neblina al crepúsculo asomarse. Los niños en el asiento trasero admiran la naturaleza a su alrededor, mientras mi corazón palpitante conversa con el subconsciente llamándolo a recordar.

Mis pupilas se dilataron en asombro cuando al subir la colina la ruta obsidiana atravesaba millas por el vientre rasgado en dos de las montañas que exponían sus entrañas ásperas y grisaceas a los elementos. Fue entonces, que una parte de mi ser, ese maternal, se mantuvo en la realidad, y mi ser creativo se transportó a la historia que espera paciente el roce de mi bolígrafo. Todo se transformó en el reino el cual mis protagonistas visitarían en el proximo capítulo.

Mi mundo imaginario solidificado en la realidad me hacía experimentar las ondulaciones que encorvan sus faldas,la magia del paisaje esmeralda que se alza para casi rozar el índigo cielo.

En una lancha recorro la ruta de escape que tomarán mis personajes, la brisa es suave y refrescante. La serenidad del lugar me adentra más en mi imaginación que me hace ver casas talladas en las montañas lejanas exponiendo trazos de la civilización que será plasmada en papel. Todo estaba allí y me perdía en él, deseaba estar en él.

El ser creativo se perdía con cada mirada y click de la cámara digital.

Pero fue ella que me hizo despertar y dejar grabada en la memoria la experiencia. Mi ser maternal tomó control por completo y se perdió en el momento que sus ojos admiraban y deseaban ser parte.

 



To a kingdom

The black asphalt took me to the past, a youth marked by nostalgia in the neuronal space where the memories are just chemical reactions. From them is born the desire to walk the road bordered by trees and surrounded by valleys. The one that cuts through the mountains of the Cordillera Central of the island that has no accurate measurement. Among its elevated green and grayish rock, between the sigh of the soul and the questions of the children, I step into her bosom with desire.

A need, perhaps, led me there. To the places that are kissed by the mist as dusk arrives. The children in the backseat admire the nature around them, while my beating heart dialogues with my subconscious calling it to remember.

My eyes widened in amazement when going up the hill the obsidian road crossed miles through the belly of the mountains ripped in two, grayish and rough exposed to the elements. It was then that part of my being, the maternal, remained in reality, and my creative being was transported to the story that patiently awaits the touch of my pen. Everything is transformed into the kingdom which my players would visit in the next chapter.

Solidified my imaginary world into reality, it made ​​me experience the the undulated skirts, and the magic emerald landscapes that rises to almost touching the indigo sky.

In a ferry we go around the escape route my characters will take. The breeze is soft and refreshing. The serenity of the place immerse me further into my imagination which makes me see houses carved into the mountains beyond exposing traces of civilization that will be captured on paper. Everything was there and I was lost in it, I wanted to be in it.

The creative being is lost with every look and click of the digital camera.

But it was her who woke me up and left recorded the memories experienced. My maternal being took over completely and was lost in the moment her eyes admired and wanted to be part of.