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 Posted: Mon Dec 20, 2010 11:18 am
I love that song. "Paint It Black" by the Rolling Stones.
I've decided that's the song that fits best with the story I'm working on. A lot of the time that's what happens. The longest story I have ever written had several songs associated with it. Reborn, Made of Scars, Institutionalized, a lot of that kind of music. I don't know what I would do without music.
Music and dreams. My stories come from those two things, plus my experiences in real life. The "real life" stuff is mainly why my stories are so messed up. "Music and dreams" get pulled along for the ride, what I listen to and what I dwell on being natural products of my reality. I wonder if I could change that by altering my habits. "It's a long hard road out of hell."
Yes, I have issues.
Oh, yes. My original intentions in posting. I just wonder why X kills himself in the first place. I don't know if it's important to the story or not. Still, it might be good to find out. It's funny trying to read what I have written so far, because it's all in backwards cursive writing. It's like putting myself in his world and having to translate it.
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Posted: Thu Dec 23, 2010 10:33 am
My friend gets her inspiration from music and tv. Me? Well I don't write so often. I wish I could find a writer willing to type up my ideas/co-write a story with me...
I dunno, one story I made was inspired by old 16-bit video games. I though, what does the captured maiden do while the main character spends the game rescuing her...?
Then my holiday story was intended for the Modma story contest, and was partly inspired by the online comic Sluggy Freelance...
I guess my inspiration comes from all different sources of fiction (but never music).
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Posted: Tue Jan 25, 2011 4:33 pm
I don't know where my inspiration comes from.
It just comes.
One of my stories come from a dream I had once.
I was in a ruined world, looking at it from an aerial view like they do in movies. I could see an abandoned city coloured a rusty brown. Then I was on a gondola, travelling with many other people. I can recall the fact that we wasted nothing. I was always looking down. Never at other people's faces. Then I got off the gondola. And I woke up.
Then that morning while I was waiting for my friends to arrive at school, a drew a picture of what it looked liked in the back of my diary (my school diary where we're supposed to plan stuff. Something that not a lot of people use) and I ended up calling it the Zero-Grav mountains - a mountain range suspended in the sky.
Then came the story.
Only one chapter and a prologue.
No one copy my ideas please.
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