So, remember my
post about Inktober? My rules for myself
were to start something new every day. I also hoped to share what I did, but
being that I was trying to
start
things, I am left with a lot of unfinished work. This is by no means a negative
thing, but it means that I don’t have too much share-worthy content.
Did I do it every day? Mostly.
On days that I didn’t get to engage in a creative activity,
I made sure that it all amounted back up to the day of the month eventually (17
new pieces by the 17th, 20 by the 20th, etc.).
Difficulty
In part, I was ambitious in thinking that I’d be posting a
lot more, but I did also expect this to be challenging. By only needing to
start something, this was a good challenge. It forced me to be creative every
day, even if it was only for a few minutes. Challenges like this always remind
me that I am able to make time when I initially think I don’t have any. I still
(for the most part) found a way to get all of my work done even when I thought
I couldn’t—even when I did my “Inktober activity” first and wasn’t sure how much
time I’d have left for my schoolwork.
Experience
I really enjoyed this “challenge.” Starting new things got
me out of old headspaces. It also prevented me from being “stuck.” I didn’t
have to worry about where a piece would be going or how to improve upon it
because every day I was starting something new. I did go back and edit,
continue, and polish some of the things I wrote, though. That’s one of the
purposes of this challenge. Not everything we create will be great, and that’s
why it’s necessary to write down every new idea. Some will continue to grow and
blossom, and some won’t.
This also forced me to think of new ideas even when I didn’t
feel inspired. I’m in a writing club at my college, and one night we did 5
minute prompts. Someone wrote a sentence in the board and we had to use it to
inspire a piece of fiction—and we had five minutes to write what we could. This
activity helped to propel me into the Inktober challenge because I didn’t like
all of the prompts, but I was still able to write from them. Sometimes when I
am searching for something to write about, I’m very picky with what prompts I
select. This defeats the purpose of prompts in the first place. If I had
something to write about, I wouldn’t be looking for them. I don’t think that we
are supposed to like every prompt
because we use them to help us to explore into different subjects. I often feel
like I write about the same things, and when I’m being extremely selective
about prompts, I’m not helping myself out.
Do I Recommend?
Yes! This was a very fun and low-stress challenge. By only
needing to start something, I was freed from feeling the need to produce
something “good” every time. We all know that while we want to write well, the
expectations to actually do it are often what limit us and keep us from doing our best work. Plus, after creating something
new every day for a month, I now have tons of new material to build upon and
work with.
What did I actually do?
Good question.
3 Drawings: the finished one that I posted with
“The Wind”
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| October 2nd. This one is rather silly and in response to "draw something melting." |
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| I don't remember the date of this one, but this is only the start of something that I plan to finish with pen and ink. |
4 Blog Posts and 1
YouTube Video: I counted these to
actually motivate me to post, which I haven’t done since moving to school.
1 Original Song: hopefully to be finalized and posted? We
shall see :)
1 Response to a Memoir Prompt
6 Poem/beginnings/first drafts of them (finished pieces that
I post from Inktober will be hyperlinked into this one should I post them in
the future)
11 Journal Entries: By this, I do not necessarily mean “this
is what I did today.” Most of what I write in my notebook are musings on
different ideas and occasionally are recounts and reflections on particularly
interesting events.
4 Fiction Beginnings/Attempts
Some excerpts that are by no means final products at all:
This piece started out as a poem then became the beginnings
of a story?
October 25th
She wanted to stop the sun from
going down. As pools of water formed around her feet on the sidewalk squares,
she looked for a rainbow. She would run until she found it. She tried to taste
the clouds, light and fluffy as candy—as dreams in your head before you come to
realize that you’re dreaming. Every night she whispered to the moon and
embraced the stars. She kept lightning bolts in jars and ice at her fingertips.
I saw her once, and the spell got
me. I’m not sure if she cast it on purpose or not. She said that she saw no
more light in people or things. She held fast to the songs in the wind and
listened to their teachings. When I asked her to share, to show me, her eyes
looked at me with pity.
“Maybe someday. But you don’t want
to bother. I have already left this world.”
She noticed my confusion, and it
seemed to solidify her statement.
“You’re not ready.”
The air seemed to move with her
instead of around her. It was as if reality itself was having a conversation
with her. And yet, no one else seemed to notice.
“How will I be ready?”
She stopped. “Catch.”
From nowhere, a white ball flew
toward me. I held my hands out and felt snow somehow turn to a pile of white
flower petals in my palms. I cradled them in my hands and looked up at her surprised
face.
“Maybe you are.”
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| I still really like the format that I originally wrote it in. Maybe this will be one of those stories told in a more poetic, whimsical way. |
October 23rd
what goes up must come down
I can try to escape, but the cold
feels even colder after taking refuge
sitting by the fire, sleeping peacefully,
drunk on blissful ignorance
like tomorrow won’t come
and by the time the light dies,
and the coals murmur their last breaths,
I wish for tomorrow to never come again
October 10th
how can I speak of the battles in my in my skin
when there are bodies strewn across front lines
real bodies, real brothers, sisters, sons and daughters
how can I speak of sexism here
when there are still oppressed women out there
raped, abused, beaten, whose lives are threatened
how can I worry about my weight
or indulge in dessert
when there are children whose skin
sticks to their bones like cling wrap
on my leftovers
how can I worry what to wear in the morning
when others worry if they’ll have anything to wear at all
And I’ll finish with something I wrote that reminded me of
one of the many joys and wonders of writing:
October 7th
[…] As I bring myself to acknowledge my fear by writing
about it, I feel myself understanding and letting go. I’m allowing myself to
feel it and release it. How amazing. After all, as I write this, I do remember
writing earlier about music being my calling, therefore I should not fear
pursuing it. And I know that the people here—especially in the music department—are
so full of love. They are not here to watch me struggle or to set me up to
fail, but to help me. It’s crazy how easily I forget about that. People are not
out to get me.
“Let yourself be silently drawn by the strange pull of what
you love. It will not lead you astray.”—Rumi
As always, thank you so very much for reading! I hope you
were able to find something that made you think, made you smile, or inspired
you to create your own works. Feel free to start a conversation in the
comments! Did you try Inktober (or some other form of a “—tober” challenge)?
Could you see yourself trying something like this in the future?
