Not Stationary, but Shooting.

I feel good. I feel like I'm back writing again, but properly this time. During my three years at university, I never really got the chance to write much more than the odd poem; I was far to busy with essays and dance societies and performances.

But now, I seem to have a lot more time on my hands. I've been faffing around with my two new scripts on Final Draft 8 for the past couple of days (excellent programme, I reccommend it to anyone writing a play or screenplay) but it hasn't really felt like I've been writing. Tonight, I opened the novel I had begun working on a few years ago, "Gemini". Then I really got back into the swing of things.

The reason I've been working on the same novel for years is because I changed so much whilst I was writing it, as a writer and a person. The plot has undergone many changes and the characters even more... Just like life, I suppose. I'm determined to get stuck into it. So, after furnishing you guys with a blog about the Scruff of the Neck festival in Deansgate, Manchester tomorrow, all day Sunday I plan to spend on the novel and on finishing the first full drafts of the plays "Bitten" and "Cobwebs."

I'm so excited to finish them. All my life I've never properly finished a writing project, unless it was a university project, in which case, if I didn't I'd have been screwed! Instead, I've always managed to fill notebook after notebook full of ideas and my hard drive is currently overflowing with excerpts from novels, plays and screenplays I will one day write. I can't wait to see the final products now.

I'm also working on putting together an anthology of my poetry - I've written so much of it over the past few years that it shouldn't be too long before I get enough words together to make a book. Now, as I have accumulated some extremely dedicated fans of this blog over the past couple of weeks, I'm gonna reward you with a little taster of my poetry.

Much Love.
CC.


"The Price of Fame"

His mother had always told him
He had bedroom eyes
And when he walked in
With his piercing gaze and feathery locks
Leda could see what she had meant

I’ll make you a star

Not stationary, but shooting
I’ll make your limbs sparkle through the sky
But first let me sculpt my scene around you

She didn’t know what he meant
But she let him move closer
Longing for the devotion he had promised

And when the pain kicked in
And her eyes flushed with tears

She persevered