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my business card: CRAZY WHO LIKES TO WRITE. Leave me alone! BUTTERFLIES AND WORMS

As an exercise for the workshop this past week the teacher suggested we talk about how and why we write. A recurring theme and classic among classics, but the more complicated when one gets down to work to flail his soul.

my business card: CRAZY WHO LIKES TO WRITE. Leave me alone!

I knew I wanted to be a writer, if it ever reaches such honorary title, nine years.

At school I had just moved from the comfortable sheets and holy books and especially the handling of the pen. With him on the hand could not fail to show off my little letter flea, just as each large grid graph notebook, brand Anchor Blue, which I had given my mother. I suspect that she made that purchase with the intent to do my homework there language, I change my rebellious spirit in the making (just say she white, black for me to say) I decided to make a sketch of a book never published, but more proud than I am.

Writing for me is with a drug: the more I write more I'm obsessed. In the bag simultaneously writing the best and worst of me. My dark side in dark stories intended to inspire fear, my desire for perfection for myself and everything I undertake (that's why I read and reread a million times my stories and poems without ever feeling a hundred percent satisfied). And also hinted, with some openly, my most timid, innocent and naive, that compels me to utter ostracism before allowing me to travel freely between my ideas and thoughts and then translate them on paper and bare my soul. Writing gives me all this freedom. Manuscripts could pass my handwriting in handwriting and find in me a kind of Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde (when they managed to decipher my intricate notes). guess my glasses and acne that continues to pay even my treintaicuatro years, and should be relegated to a trunk of memories under lock and key in a deep dungeon of my skin, helping my image of being weird and somewhat antisocial. I do not care! And thus I have an alibi for play to be a poet without verse, to slay dragons, to be a serial murderer or a loving old woman who dreams of bringing life-porn star.

Who knows? Someday I might decide to resurrect my dear "Manitas de cristal" (mouse pianist of that first story) and get my dream of considering it entirely perfect, without retouching. Meanwhile, I will continue testing in the laboratory of my house in the library, during my many sleepless nights, and of course in my few moments of sleep (because I'm thinking of those who sleep in a story and characters).

, I often think I'm like Obelix and as he fell into some sort of creative pot whose spell I can not get away until I die. I know, I'm escritodependiente .

If you like what you read here, please enjoy it from the blog, but not copy it. You can read my writings on my other blog: www.mimundomiburbuja.blogspot.com Respect my intellectual property. Thanks. Writer

Sechat

Brown And Blue Moccasins For Women

The writing workshop I attend, on Thursday, we proposed two weeks ago, creating a story with the technique of "China Box" which involves integrating a story inside another, but also required us to depart from the end of the main story. I hope I have achieved the goal and that you like.

BUTTERFLIES AND WORMS

From the fire her face had become the antithesis of beauty: butterfly had become worm. That permanent grin of anger, which had been etched on your skin in the corners of the mouth, further enhancing the feeling.

(***)

Everything seemed normal in the backstage: the usual tweaks Deals in some clothes, false praise for the creations rival designers, models crazy racing through the halls; negative of the Organization to accept smaller size mannequins with the 38 ...

; In the area of \u200b\u200bmakeup, an endless string of beautiful women was covered by large mirrors, pulling, moody, subtle defects in face and hair, and before any complaint from one of these beauties around a list of hairdressers and makeup artists came as beggars at the door of a church to seek favor with the pretentious diva.

a few meters, some of the agents of those unwanted girls, negotiated contracts for its representation through the sophisticated hands free from their phones.

(***)

Dr. Anderson, an acclaimed surgeon, faced with your medical team to one of the most complicated plastic surgery, who had ever done. He knew that half the world were in expectation of the first part of medical be given after surgery, and although he understood the uncertainty created by the issue, did not share the sensational aspect was being given to the news by some media. Felt compelled to isolate his patient of all this mess media.

precisely why he had left his post at the clinic in Florida, after so many years in charge of the policy. I did not want to be the instrument of actresses and models villainy committed against themselves by winning the battle against wrinkles or trace their careers in a world where youth and beauty are the only values \u200b\u200balways rise.

(***)

Julia was delayed more than usual to participate in the parade (a charity gala was held as an exception that night) and the girl did not have anyone to leave Daniel, as usual kangaroo had suffered a setback in his ankle at the last minute. Mother and son were now in a taxi way to the house of her parents (18 km from the small apartment and 23 the place of the parade). The delay was more than evident, while Tommy, his representative, resigned office in the same instant she phoned him explaining the reason for delay, "This is the last time we collaborate, Julia. Take today we'll go by your side, "he said in exasperation hanging without possibility of reply.

She worried, stressed several times in talking to him trying to bring positions closer, but he did not catch the phone, and realized too late that definitely could not do that job: the rush had forgotten in the fridge insulin Daniel, and his parents also had no reserves at home dose. Actually altered the face of such disappointment, urged the driver to rectify the initial route and return back to the starting point. The man protested (they were special dates and wanted to end their turn to meet as soon as possible with his wife, children and grandchildren). The man, exhausted, looked in the mirror decided to refuse, but the anguish of the woman could and did what was asked.

Julia smoked one cigarette after another, and every few puffs called Tommy. Invariably skipped the usual monotonous speech of the telemarketer, "the mobile you are calling is switched off or out of coverage at this time." Hated everything! For a moment wanted to make a fresh start ... go live a more anonymous.

After what seemed an eternity, the driver told him he had arrived. She urged him to wait a few minutes. Rushed into the with his eighth home already lit cigarette in hand. Did not notice the smell of gas inside.

If you like what you read here, please enjoy it from the blog, but not copy it. You can read my writings on my other blog: www.mimundomiburbuja.blogspot.com Respect my intellectual property. Thanks . Written by Sechat

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I Neverland

know not all the collective blog of Neverland, but I heartily invite you all to visit it and you join in this first contest (you can do so until day 31). The standards are not too hard, I am still ambitious and I like heart enjoy great stories coming out of your hands. Here is a little list of previous assumptions to participate:

1. Have a blog of your own where you have previously posted your writings. Being a follower
2. blog.
3. like writing a good story (maximum of 5 sheets A4 paper size in Word format), suspense, science fiction or whatever you prefer to where Comodoro see a dragon and a real date that is meaningful to you by some reason. Writer

Sechat

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BLOG CONTEST POPPY (HAIKU)

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S i like what you read here, enjoy it for favor from the blog, but not copy it. You can read my writings on my other blog: www.mimundomiburbuja.blogspot.com Respect my intellectual property. Thanks.

Sechat

Writer

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Tango

Tango if you do not dance, you become penitent forgiveness.

If you like what you read here, please enjoy it from the blog, but not copy it. You can read my writings on my other blog: www.mimundomiburbuja.blogspot.com Respect my intellectual property. Thanks.

Sechat

Writer