Writing is Easy

'Love is all you need,' said John Lennon. However, I don't think writing is the love he was speaking of at the time. But to write a novel you do need love. A love of words, a love of story telling, and, not quite connected to love, a determination to crack down and write.

Writing is easy. We do it all the time, for shopping lists, birthday lists, letters to friends, speeches. We were taught how to write at a young age. And yet, many people shiver at the thought of being asked to write a novel, or an essay. Why?

If writing is so natural, and we do it all the time, why is it that when we have to crack down and write do we find it so difficult? I tell you that it is not the writing that is difficult, it is the thinking up of what to say that we have trouble with and prevents us from making a start.

I had to write this speech first in order to deliver it. I write words all the time and yet when faced with having to write this I was stumped at what to say. To help me begin I had to find a topic. I was told it could be about anything, that didn't necessarily making it any easier though because then I was faced with what topic should I pick?

All stories start with a topic, or an idea. Once you have that then you are able to begin. But why is it still hard to start even though you have your topic? You have your topic but you don't know where to begin with writing the novel. Once thing I say for you not to do is wait for inspiration. If you decide to wait for that then you may never stop waiting. Very rarely will it show up when you want it to. Instead, you just have to start. Ignore the fact that you don't want to write, and the fact that you don't know what to say. Once you start, the words will flow.

For starters, write the title of your novel down. Next, follow with your topic and what your story is going to be about. Write what the story means to you, why you want to write it, and maybe even who you are writing it for. If you stop and look back now you will see a page full of words. But if you don't stop to look back, your mind will keep churning, your pen will keeping moving and you will soon find that you have the beginning of your novel. That wasn't really that hard now, was it?

To help you write, picking the perfect environment is high on the list of things to do. There are many different places to write a novel, you can do it in your bed, while watching the TV, or even outside in the sun. The perfect place to write is where you are comfortable, and everything you need is within reach so you don't have to keep interrupting your writing to get up and grab it. But be careful that everything isn't too close so that you end up being distracted by it. If you are distracted you will find it impossible to write.

When people find it hard to get started on a novel they often quit because they find it too hard. I have answered why they do. It's difficult, and they can't handle it. But perseverance is rewarding. The end product, whatever it may be, once polished and shined to perfection is perfection itself. You receive such a sense of achievement to hold your novel in your hand, to flip through the pages and see the many words you dripped sweat and blood to produce. It is its own reward, you don't need to receive one from someone else for your hard work.

It is enough cause to hold your finished product in your hand to force you to buckle down and write to create your masterpiece. Once you have the determination to complete the work you have started, the plot of what to write, the title, the characters, the perfect environment to write it, and the words in your mind that you are just itching to get down on paper, you will soon find that they are indeed making their way down onto the paper.

See how easy it all is? It's not the writing that's hard, that's easy, it's everything else that goes along with it.

Party Time!

Actually, it's no longer party time. Simmer down, people, simmer down. It's really nothing to get excited about, the party is over. You can either pack up and leave, or you can stay and read on to find out what I'm talking about.

What I'm talking about: this will be a blog post about a 21st party I went to on Friday.

Okay, I went to a joint 21st birthday party last Friday, the 13th. Joint between one of my sisters and a friend. It was Tim Burton themed, costume dress up. You had to dress up as someone from a Tim Burton movie -if you hadn't guessed that already. You may be wondering who I dressed up as, well I'll tell you. I went as Ichabod Crane from Sleepy Hollow. And let me tell you, I look dashing in a black waistcoat and boots with my hair swept back.

We spent like three months preparing for this party. It took so long because the birthday girls decided that not only did they want a dress up party, but they also wanted to decorate the house Tim Burton styled. There were three main rooms on the downstairs floor, which were set for different themes. The first, the living room, was a Dark Shadows theme. It had a coffin, 70s disco ball on the ceiling, and a portrait of Barnabas Collins staring out over those that decided to brave the dance floor. There was also a fog machine to add to the effect.

The second room, the dining room, was an Alice in Wonderland Mad Hatter's tea party set. They'd set up a bunch of tables in a row, covered it in different coloured table clothes, spread utensils, cups, bowls, and tea pots around the place. It looked quite nice. In the spot of honour in the middle of the table was the birthday cake made by a professional cake maker, Flower and Fondant. It was a cake, two tiered, a chocolate, cherry ripe cake on the first layer and a Bailey's white chocolate cake for the second. Covered in purple fondant on a black and white checked board, with black vines and a black rose swirling it's way up the side. Sitting on top were about four or five, purple/blue, seeming to glow, toadstools. It was quite impressive.

The third room, lounge room #2, was made up for Sweeny Todd. There was a sign with Mrs Lovett's pies, with blood streaks across it, and instruments of pie making were spread around the room. Including an old, metal meat grinder we found all ready to grind human flesh.

Outside the front door was Corpse Bride land. We had candles along the path, a great deal of fake cobwebs with spiders, snow, a hand reaching out from the snow with a ring on its finger, and a mound of snow with the green maggot -whatever its name is- peeping out from it watching you as you bang on the door requesting to be allowed entrance.

Around the back of the house was The Nightmare Before Christmas. We had pumpkins, carved of course, the dog -whose name I also cannot remember- hanging from the ceiling. It was fake, it was a ghost so don't be alarmed. And a board, 3D pop out, of the purple tongue with Jack Skellington striding majestically across it on the wall. All props, all over the house, were made by us. It was a fantastic display.

Upstairs, the final decoration, was the scarecrow from The Nightmare Before Christmas, pointing the way to the toilets. A degrading job for a majestic, gentlemanly scarecrow such as him, but there you go. He wasn't allowed outside in case he got rained on.

As for costumes for the night. They were quite good. My family is a bunch of Cosplayers, so we know how to make good costumes. I'd name all that were there but too many to count. I can't remember how many people were there either. It was a grand affair.

For sake of decency, and respect for certain friends, though they really deserve none, I won't mention the foul ruffians who desecrated the party with their obnoxious foul language, drinking habits, and smoking of certain substances, and slutty performance from the girls. Or the music we were forced to endure.

Besides all them, everyone else at the party were fantastic. I had a great deal of fun talking to friends, and making new ones, stuffing my face, and just looking plain dashing in black. I look dashing in all colours, but the black certainly suited me more than anything else. It brought out the colour of my eyes, you know.

-Peter.