Silverflight8
Creativity. Consider what that word means to you; let it roll off your tongue a few times. Consider the commitment and drive to see a creative project through to completion, and ask yourself if it's possible to continue such a project in the absence of encouragement from external sources.
We get inspiration from all corners of daily life, and find ourselves longing to nurture those wonderful little tidbits of original thought the way a parent would nurture a child ... but even the most loving, nurturing parent needs a pat on the back once in awhile.
When you spot the glimmers of inspiration, minute embryos of creativity sprouting up, be sure to share with someone who is willing to encourage your process. We're here.
Today's featured writer has been a member of the FLAME for a year. I was thrilled to learn that zie has been known to experience bursts of vivid imagination - moments of inspiration for a story - in the classroom of all places. Come meet our very own silverflight8!
Kathy: First off, tell us a little about yourself. Are you a student? Have you chosen a goal to focus on?
Silver: I am a student, although right now life is madness and I wish I were something else. I usually like school, but right now it's just argh. Sometimes I think I'm too practical. I'd like to work as an editor or a writer, but my other half says that it's probably a good idea to go for something like accounting or business. [The subjects] I like stay about the same, but my marks fluctuate wildly from year to year.
Kathy: Editing and writing are practical career choices ... I say go for it! Do you remember your first influence or inspiration to write?
Silver: I think it's because I read so much. I remember reading Harry Potter and wanting so much, so badly, to get that owl at eleven and go practise magic. I was kind of disappointed. I also read all of Laura Ingalls Wilder - I think it was because I also lived on the prairies, so it made a lot of sense. Harry Potter and LotR are the reasons I like fantasy so much. I just really like their universe. After I read a really good book, that made an amazing, almost tangible universe, I always spent the next few days in sort of a haze, wondering what might happen if ... things like that. What it would be like to really live there.
Kathy: That's a diverse reading list! I read the Ingalls-Wilder books as a kid, too :)
Silver: Oh really? Which was your favorite? (I've finally met someone who's read them too!)
Kathy: Oh, I don't even remember the titles, but I remember the first one and running to hug my mother. I was SO thankful that we didn't live in that time! (I was about 9.)
Silver: I remember being amazed that was her life - it had all really happened! I thought at first it was a novel, not really a semi-autobiography. In her case, [it was] like a road map.
Kathy: Besides school, when it's not making you argh, and voracious reading, what other activities do you enjoy?
Silver: When I did springboard diving, I think I enjoyed it. But I spent most of the time being scared about the next maneuver. (I'm not sure why I felt it was enjoyable.) I like to take bus rides. Especially when it's along somewhere scenic; you can just sit and look out the window and watch. Oh, and choir! I love choir, and the more voice-parts there are, the better!
Kathy: You sing, too?!
Silver: Sort of. I like to sing, but I don't know if I'm actually any good. x.x
Kathy: Well, if you weren't, I'm sure the other folks in the choir would have told you by now!
Silver: They're really very nice people ...
Kathy: :) Do you think music is an inspiration for your writing sometimes, or more of a mood setter?
Silver: Mmmm ... I like to listen to all sorts of music (this is what music history courses will do to you), but I don't think so. The fifth movement of Symphonie fantistique is amazing, but not the stuff you want to listen to at night, that's for sure. I really like Romanticism, but I prefer Chopin. I rarely write with music on, especially the ones with lyrics - I usually end up typing the lyrics instead of the words. :)
Silver and I went on to have a glorious history nerd extravaganza conversation about history that led me to asking two favors: 1) If I could feature the nonfiction piece entered for Luminary. 2) For zir to write flash-fic style piece about a person or event of history. Silver made me very happy :)
Flash Fic:
This one's kind of a fanfic. Points to anyone who can recognize the unidentified character (yay historical personage) and the book it is a fanfiction of. (The thoughts are supposed to be italicized, but it'll be okay without it).
He found himself lying face-first in the grass, some of it tickling his nose, and for a second simply lay there unable to think. Then, with a start, he jumped up and nearly fell over again: the suburban homes and bright Californian sunshine had vanished, and in its place a slow fog was creeping over the trees and hills. He turned around, walked forwards a few paces and then back, as though to find walls, and pinched himself very hard. Nothing happened, but he felt exhausted.
Come on, think! he thought crossly. The grass was really very long and there was no sign, no sight of anybody anywhere; he could swear he'd heard a lawnmower just a few minutes ago—
You asked for a time-slide. The thought curled briefly through his mind, and then evaporated. What time-slide? What is a time-slide anyway? Wait, what was that—and before he could continue his thought, he became very aware that he wasn't alone. Something thrashed loudly through the undergrowth, and he watched with complete amazement as a hare tore out of the trees and balked at him, leaping around and past him. From a distance, he heard a horn bellow—who still blows horns these days, anyway? he thought confusedly—and then a party of riders, lead by dogs, came into sight. The dogs paid him no attention, and neither did the riders; one of them, in particular, was focused entirely on the direction the hounds were leading. Orange hair, he noted, very old-fashioned clothing, holding a spear, maybe?
As he watched, another rider, older and stouter, called, "Sire!" and pointed at the fog, now beginning to obscure everything.
"No," said the first flatly, and then said something he didn't catch. The other rider dipped his head, looking doubtful but conceding. Someone famous, thought Tom, but who wears those clothes? Unless I did something wrong with the spell and went back into the time-flow instead of forward—and oh, why did I not listen to Carl! The dogs began to howl and bark. From another quarter of the trees, a thick snout emerged, then followed by the rest of the shaggy body, a creature he distantly recognized as a boar. The first rider's face brightened, but Tom was already leafing hastily through his manual, trying to find an appropriate spell; the boar's beady eyes were fixed on him now.
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