I took a day off from work hoping I would work in this piece of writing, but it seems words are hard like stone on the brain. I have been digging deeper, trying to penetrate, in some way the very heart of the characters I create, but it seems I can't understand them. This is hell. And it sucks getting stuck in the middle of a story... while someone, or some people are waiting, ears opened to see where the trail leads to. All I am certain of is that there is an issue opening up... yes, I am lost in the middle of no where with a crew I have created called characters, and how stubborn they could be. In my head, I hear He-en saying, nowhere is near anywhere. "Get us outta here. There has to be a way, somehow."
Yes. There has to be a way somehow. The road has been long. I have sometimes wanted to finish things, to see them come off to a denouement in handy sealed packs. The essential thing about writing a book is not getting it to the end. I know already who I am going to kill. Who will survive an ordeal. Why they survive doesn't necessarily matter much. What is interesting is the road to the end. And most interesting still, the road of the creator of tales. The gems of a story aren't in its end just in the say way as the pearls of life aren't at its end. They are culled along the way we take.
welcome to the WORLD OF HAVEN VALLEY
I am not a cut different from the ordinary human who walks the street. But in my journey, I strive to understand the music that surges from the wide worlds within every individual, that which makes him/her that fragile and sacred at the same time. I have found myself sometimes looking at someone farting with thumps-up as though goading him on to sanity. Seemingly meaningless things have been things that have communicated sense to me especially during louring hours. That is what this journal is. I offer these thoughts to the world with wonted pleasure and gratitude to all that awakens the human in me.