hello all im blue
as for writers block i struggle with it sometimes. but not often. i have found that i can not writed a story i must stick to poetry and prose. i do not use any normal outline or stanzas it just flows the way of the sea. i find that as im falling asleep is the best time to write even if it is only in my head.

peace n love

i should have been a bit more clear, that was a lovely example of my work not just me.

oh and shakespeare im not lol

yes that sounds like a fun idea

the problem many find with my work is that since i follow no "written rules" that it just runs together but that is the way i like it to be. if you get a chance read some of jack kerouac's poetry. he is one of my idols.

1. Do you ever get writer's block? If so what methods do you know of to eliminate this dilemma.

2. Do you write a chapter outline or create character sheets before writing a story? If so what is your methods in doing this? If not then explain why.

3. When you write your first draft, do you worry about sentence structures, usage, punctuation, and grammar, or are you more into just getting the story on paper first?

4. When is the best time of the day to write? Do you take breaks or do you write many hours nonstop?

5. Can you recommend helpful websites that offer great information on writing?

Hi there. First of all I would like to thank you for inviting me to this, and second of all, I think it's an awesome idea for those of us that really enjoy writing. As for your questions...

Writer's block. It's not so much writer's block as it is figuring out how to get from one point to another. How do I get through it? I just keep writing it over and over and over again until I'm finally happy with what I have written. And honestly, I have to be in the write frame of mind too. I can't be tired, otherwise nothing in the chapter makes sense.

As for, do I make an outline. I don't. I know what the characters are like, I know where the book is going, and I just let it flow.

Spelling and grammar. Everything I write is typed on the computer in Word, and I'm a fairly decent typer and hardly make any mistakes, every once in a while I'll find one when reading through it, but it depends on my mood. Sometimes I go back to fix mistakes. Other times, I just let it go and fix it at another time.

Time of day...I write pretty much whenever I feel motivation or inspiration coming on. But the time I really perfer to write would be right after lunch. I'm not too tired, I hadn't just woken up, and I just feel like I have more to write. Sometimes I can write for long periods of times, but most of the time I take little breaks in between segments. I never stop in thee middle of a chapter, otherwise it messes me up.

Helpful sites, well I haven't really been to any.

As far as samples go...
Here's the unedited prologue of my first book, Darks Side of Paradise, I've only had one person read it, and it's not totally finished so let me know what you think!
Prologue

“Serena…”
Her breath came out in quick, rapid gasps. Her arms and legs pumped faster and faster. Nausea rose in her throat. Tears filled her eyes. Pain rushed through her body, and fear trickled up her spine.
The forest around her was dark, damp and dreary. The smell had her wrinkling her nose in disgust. Darkness enveloped her, consumed her. Trees rose high, high above her, surrounding her, blocking out all traces of the outside world. Glowing eyes leered at her from the darkness. Shadows grew larger, crawling closer and closer, and…
“Serena…”
She jumped, the dark, husky voice sounding somewhere behind her, and she stopped, turning to look behind her.
All she could see were the glowing eyes that leered at her from the darkness.
Serena, you have to keep moving!
Her feet slid on the soggy path. She was so hot, the humidity of the place causing sweat to drip from her skin, and she shuddered, as snakes curled around the tree branches above her, turning to watch her as she ran.
Oh god, she must be in hell!
Her feet slid on the small path she was running along. Jagged, steep, and narrow. Loose rocks dug into her flesh. Tree branches scratched at her ankles. Animal traps snapping.
Crack!
The sound penetrated through the silence of the forest and she stopped, froze in her tracks and looked behind her.
A broken tree branch stood a foot behind her and she cringed, oh god, oh god!
A noise sounded from her left and her head jerked in that direction, she took a step forward.
Her foot stepped on a loose piece of gravel.
She lost her balance and suddenly she was falling, falling…
She hit the ground with a thud, landing on her stomach, just inches from the side of the trail that dropped off who knew how many hundreds of feet below her. And as she lifted her head, she saw the jagged pattern of paths that ran below her and the thrashing waves of the creek.
And more tears prodded at her eyes. She didn’t want to die!
“Serena…”
Serena, you have to get up!
Placing her hands on the ground, she pushed herself to her feet and once again began running, ignoring her protesting muscles, pushing back the tears in her eyes, and focusing on one thing, getting out of this forest alive.
Just what had she done to deserve this! She was just a normal girl, she had never caused trouble for anyone. She was quiet, she did her homework. And she was the daughter of the mayor! What could this serial killer want from her?
But was there even any rime or reason in his mind? He had caused so much chaos in the world all ready. He’d taken her best friend. He’d taken so many other girls. And he’d taken her. He struck without any warning, when people were least expecting it. Kidnapping young girls in the blink of an eye, and when you woke up you found yourself in a cold, dank shack that smelled of death. Chained to the walls, to the floor, naked, where you could feel the hard concrete cold against your skin. And then there he was, sitting next to you, sipping a beer, and watching you with those dark, cold eyes. Eyes filled with evil.
And then he would touch you. Fondle you. Rape you. And then he killed you.
Killed you by hacking your body into a million pieces.
An action so sick, so volatile, it could make any living person sick.
“Serena…”
And he was right behind her!
She was going to die!
Oh, Serena just stop it, all ready! You’re not going to die, so stop thinking like that. Now let’s look at the facts here. One, you’re in a dark forest and you’re scared to death. Two, you’re tired, your muscles are aching and you feet are rubbed raw from running for so long, so fast. Three, you’re being chased by a madman who wants to kill you.
All good reasons to run, hide and wait until he gave up.
Nope, won’t work. He knows this forest, remember? And you have to get out of here before the sun comes up.
But nobody’s ever escaped him before.
And none of those girls are you. You’re smart, Serena and you’ve managed to get out of that shack. So that means you at least have a fighting chance. So how about we keep moving! Just one foot in front of the other. Yes, that’s it! You can do it and whatever you do, don’t stop!
Don’t stop.
Two words. They sounded so easy.
But they weren’t.
Her muscles protested. Her chest was so tight, she could barely breathe. And little by little, her feet slowed down, until she found herself standing next to a big boulder and she braced a hand against it, dragging in long, deep breaths.
Oh, she was so tired. So weak. In so much pain. The strain of the last week finally taking its toll on her, and she took a minute to close her eyes, lifting her head up.
A streak of sunlight hit the forest.
A bird chirped somewhere nearby.
A gust of wind blew against her hair.
Sunrise was coming, she realized, as she opened her eyes to look at the barely visible sky above her. Sunrise was almost here and she had to get out of here, because when that sun came up, that monster would be able to see everything. He’d be able to see her, this forest, everything, she’d be a sitting duck. One wrong move, and she could end up at this killer’s mercy. A victim once again.
A victim.
Just those words had her jerking her head up.
And landing on the lone figure that stood in the middle of the path.
Tara.
Even from this distance, she could still make out her best friend. The one person in the world who she had always been able to confide in. They’d had so much fun, laughing together, going on shopping sprees, celebrating birthdays. They’d all been great memories.
And the last one she had was of Tara being dragged out of the shack, The Hacker yelling at her that she was useless, weak, that she didn’t deserve what he was giving to her.
And then she’d heard the gunshot.
She’d thought that her friend was dead.
But she wasn’t. She was standing there, right in the middle of the path. Her dark brown hair tangled in a mess. Hazel eyes that spoke of how much she’d been through. Bruises and scrapes marring her flesh, clothes torn. Scars from being taken just days before she had.
“Tara!”
She flew down the hill.
“Serena, no!”
Tara’s shout echoed throughout the forest, and Serena stopped just feet away from her friend, and cocked her head to the side.
Tara was looking frantic. Her eyes wide, and looking around crazily.
“Tara, what’s wrong?”
“He’s around here somewhere.” She whispered.
“Who’s around here?”
“Him!” Tara hissed. “The Hacker’s around here, Serena! He’s around here, using me as bait! As bait to get to you!”
“What? But that’s impossible, Tara? He couldn’t be around here, because he was behind me, following me through this forest. And why would he be using you as bait to get to me?”
“Because he’s pissed!” Tara snapped. “God, Serena, don’t you understand? Nobody has been able to get away from him, except for you, and he freaking knew that! He knew that you would get away, so he decided to use me as bait, because he knew, he knew that you would sacrifice yourself to save someone you love, and I can’t let you do that! You have to go. As for this forest, it’s bizarre, Serena. It plays tricks on you, it’s haunted, I don’t know what it is! But you’ve got to go, Serena! You have to run, save yourself, you have to forget about me!”
“Forget about you?” Serena stared at her as if she’d lost her mind. “Tara, I am not leaving you! You are my best friend and we are going to get out of this together.” She held out her hand. “Now, come on, we’ve only got a few minutes before the sun come up.”
Tara stared at her, and slowly she shook her head. “I can’t Serena. You see, you’re willing to sacrifice your life to save me, and well I’m willing to do the exact same thing.”
“But Tara…”
“I’m too weak, Serena.” She whispered. “I’ll only slow you down. Go, Serena, go! You have too much to offer the world. Go!”
“Tara, I can’t.”
“Yes you can.”
“Serena, you have to.”
“No.”
Another streak of sunlight hit the forest, and they both looked up.
“Yes.”
Birds chirped from in the distance.
“No.”
Bushes rustled.
“He’s coming!” Tara cried.
A rifle shot sounded.
“Tara!” Serena held out her hand.
A flock of birds took flight from a tree where they had been resting, squawking at the disturbance.
Another rifle shot sounded, just as the last rays of light hit the forest.
Serena screamed.
A second later, she opened her eyes, realizing that she was still alive.
“Tara?” she turned her head, and covered her mouth with her hands, when she saw Tara kneeling on the ground, blood oozing from her mouth.
“You have to run, Serena.” She whispered. “Run, save your life.” Then she collapsed to the ground, her head rolling to the side so that Serena got a glimpse at the bullet hole in the back of her head.
“Tara.” She whispered the words, falling to her knees, just staring at her friend’s still body, not realizing that tears were rolling down her face. “Tara, no, no, no!”
Bushes rustled to her right, and as she looked up as a man dressed in black from head to toe stepped out of the bushes, an axe hanging over one shoulder, a rifle over the other.
“Well, well, what do you think, Serena? Was that a pretty good shot?”
Serena froze, lifting her head to look at the man who had ruined her life, and she slowly rose to her feet, backing away from him. He had just killed her best friend right in front of her own eyes, and he was asking her what she thought?
“You’re asking me what I think?” Serena let out a cold, hard laugh. “What I think is that you are pathetic! You just took my best friend’s life right before my own eyes you psychotic son of a *****! You just killed her! You’ve ruined my life! You’ve ruined so many other lives! But you don’t even care do you, I mean, what’s another life, besides a thrill for you? To you, it’s like a drug, you just can’t wait to get more, and more and more! But for us, it was all we had! It was all we had! We’re just kids, trying to get through life as best as we can, but you just don’t care do you? You like being in control, you like taking people when they are helpless. You enjoy having the upper hand, but what you are is sick. You’re just sick, and you’ll always be sick! I hope you rot! I hope they catch you! And I hope they send you to hell, I hope they send you to hell where you burn! I hope—“
“Shut up!” he slammed the axe in the ground and Serena jumped back. “Just shut up! You have no idea what you are talking about!” he stared at her, his black and white mask twitching as if he were smiling. “Sweet, sweet Serena. You have spunk, I’ll give that to you, actually it’s what drew you to me at first, but now you’re just pissing me off.” He stepped out of the shadows to kneel next to Tara’s prone body. “But there are just so many things you don’t understand.”
“Like what.”
“Like when one life ends, another begins.” He pulled a glove off and touched a finger to Tara’s wound, lifting it up for her to see. “It’s all about the blood.” He whispered, before licking it.
Serena reared back, disgusted. What was it with this guy!
“Another thing,” he rose to his feet, and picked the axe up from the ground. “Everybody has sins to pay for, and well, your friend, she must pay for hers.”
Pay? What could he do that could be worse then this.
And then he raised the axe above his head, and brought it down across Tara’s body. The sound of bone crushing echoed throughout the forest.
“No!” Serena took a step towards him, then thought better of it when she saw the dangerous glint in his dark eyes.
And only when there was nothing remaining, except for Tara’s head that sat there, staring at her with those blank eyes, pleading for help, did he stop, his chest heaving, his breath coming out hard.
“Why?” she whispered, brokenly. “Why did you have to do that! She was dead! She couldn’t hurt you! She couldn’t say anything against you! Why, why, why!?”
“Because she had sins to pay for.” He said simply, turning towards her. “And now, it’s your turn.”
Serena froze, realizing at that moment how extremely stupid she really was. Why was she standing here, staring at this man? She should be running, far, far away from this man as fast as she possibly could!
“Ah, I think you forgot one little thing.” She lifted her chin.
“Oh?”
“I’m no ordinary girl.” She pivoted on her heel and raced down the hill once more.
And this time, she knew that he was behind her. The curses, the loud footsteps behind her were a very good clue, but she wasn’t afraid. She just wasn’t afraid of him anymore.
With a new sense of adrenaline, she picked up speed going down the hill, the forest seeming to fly by her as she ran. Rocks went flying, dirt went flying, tree branches scratched at her, and all she could think about was getting out of here.
She could do this! She could get out of this! She was younger, she was faster, right?
Wrong.
A hand wrapped around her ankle and she screamed, as she fell down to the hard ground, her momentum causing to go rolling down the hill.
And when she stopped, she lifted her head and spotted the clearing that stood a little ways away. A mile? Two miles? She just didn’t have enough time to get to it, but she had to try!
She jumped to her feet.
“You’re mine!”
She was tackled to the ground, and once again she found herself rolling down the hill once more time, but this time when she stopped, he was lying on top of her.
“So how does it feel, Serena?” he stared down at her, eyes blacker then coal. “How’s it feel to know that you’re going to die?”
“I’m not going to die!” she lifted her head to look him dead in the eyes, recalling that she had once heard that your eyes were the window to your soul. And if that were true she was willing to be that this man either had no soul, or a very black soul. Whatever it was, it didn’t matter.
“Oh, come on, Serena? Aren’t you afraid?”
Afraid? Of coarse she was, but she wasn’t about to admit that to him.
“Maybe this will help you out.” He drew his hand out from behind his back, and dangled a small dagger in his hand. “How about now, you afraid?”
She gulped, as the sunlight glinted off of the deadly tip. Oh god, she didn’t want to die, she was only sixteen!
“Any last things you want to say, Serena?”
“Go to hell!”
“All right then.” His mask twitched again, as he raised the dagger to the sky, and then it was coming towards her.
And Serena had a flash of her life. All the things she wanted to do, but would never get to.
Still coming, gaining speed.
Of Tara, how she had risked her life and how her death would mean nothing.
Just inches away.
And it was at that moment that she realized that she could not do this! She had to fight.
“No!” she jerked her body to the side.
And the knife crashed into the ground beside her.
“No!” he cried, yanking the dagger out of the ground.
Serena breathed in a breath. She was still alive.
“No!” he screamed again, lifting his head to the sky, his eyes filled with rage. “No! This can not happen! I can not fail! I must conquer my mission. I must kill this girl that reeks of sin, that—“
“Oh would you just shut up all ready?”
“What?” he looked down at her in growled.
“I said, shut up.” She spat out, as he raised the knife again and this time, when it started towards her she was ready. Placing her hands on the ground, she brought her knee up as fast and as hard as she could, striking him in the groin. Her hands went up, grabbing the arm that held the dagger, and the dagger went flying in some unknown direction.
Screams and cries filled the air, as he rolled away from her, clutching his manhood.
And for a second all she did was lay there.
And then the sun bathed over her, and she realized, that she had done it. That she had defeated him, again. Now, she just had to get out of this forest, out of this hell.
Then she spotted the clearing that was just feet in front of her, and she smiled, jumping to her feet, she sprinted towards it.
As she stepped out of the forest, she was greeted by sunshine. A river flowing evenly, and pure blue skies.
She raced to the river, stopping at the bank to look up at the sky. And she could imagine Tara, up there, watching over her, floating on some cloud creating all sorts of trouble.
And she smiled.
Tara was in a better place now. She just hoped that she had found peace.
Gun shots and curses rang out from behind her.
But it didn’t matter.
She drew in a deep breath, and dove into the river.
The water was cold on her skin, and she shivered, and as she swam, she realized that this nightmare would never be over. Not until one of them was dead. She had escaped, he would not like that. He would be back for her, and this time she would be ready.
She would never be free of him.

Nicole

Yes. Sometimes, the mood to write inexplicably strikes, and everything naturally flows. Other times, the urge to write comes, yet the words just refuse to flow.

What helps me when I get writer's block: Writing (even if what comes is only nonsense or complete slop, starting to write anything helps stimulate the will to create more quality writing, for me); reading (prose or poetry from those who have done so successfully and brilliantly); or looking for inspiration--In nature, at a coffee shop, other crowded places, etc. Just sitting down and making observations about surroundings often helps get the creative juices a'flowin'.

I've tried this, creating character sheets and such; it's never worked for me and, in fact, distracts more than anything. For some, being that organized may help and be a suitable technique, but for me, when writing prose, I just write and allow characters and stories to viscerally come, so to speak.

Yes. Being meticulous straightaway makes me value what I've written more than if I just slopped mechanically horrid prattle onto a page, and also makes editing easier later.

Of course, this varies. Anytime works: Best write whenever and wherever you're in the mood to write, as the inspiration comes; otherwise, you might lose good ideas or the advantage of being in a proper mood.

www.poets.org.

1. Do you ever get writer's block? If so what methods do you know of to eliminate this dilemma.

2. Do you write a chapter outline or create character sheets before writing a story? If so what is your methods in doing this? If not then explain why.

3. When you write your first draft, do you worry about sentence structures, usage, punctuation, and grammar, or are you more into just getting the story on paper first?

4. When is the best time of the day to write? Do you take breaks or do you write many hours nonstop?

5. Can you recommend helpful websites that offer great information on writing?

As sad at it may seem, I write my stories inspired off of television and movies. They have the luxury of describing things visually by sight. I don't get to do that, so I have to explain everything, but I try to remain interesting with it and keep the story flowing. Nothing worse than a bored reader... except maybe an angry writer.

I see nothing wrong with this at all! I think movies or even news can inpire great ideas to create stories. I have known you for awhile now and know you have great stories to share. Perhaps one day you can share a chapter or even the prologue with us.

I had thought to share something with you guys, I just don't know from which book. "History of The 5 Universes" for a laugh in a galaxy kinda sorta not quite far far away, "The Chronicles of Avolon: The Fire Lord Prophecy" For a gripping fantasy adventure, or even some description of the Comic/ video game Series I hope to make someday "Aeon".