resa: (look no further)
Cornelia Funke hat mal über ihre Bücher gesagt, dass… Sie hat mal genau das gesagt, was ich euch jetzt gerne sagen möchte. Aber ich sag euch jetzt nicht, was sie gesagt hat. Denn es ist traurig, dass man solche Reden immer mit anderen, schlaueren und berühmteren Menschen als sich selbst beginnt. Anstatt dass man auf sich vertraut und einfach sagt, was einem auf dem Herzen liegt, sagt man Dinge, die andere Leute gesagt haben und zitiert sie dann wohlmöglich auch noch. Ich versuch jetzt mal mein eigenes Herz zu zitieren, denn eine Herzenssache ist es und diesen Aufwand hat sie, diese Sache, echt verdient.

Ich glaube, ich habe etwas, was ein paar von uns fehlt, und darum schreibe ich manchmal. „Na so was. Und was ist das?“ werden sich jetzt bestimmt einige von euch fragen. Ich bin erst Mitte 20 und darum kann es nicht meine groooße Lebenserfahrung sein, die ich teilen möchte. D.h. zumindest nicht im herkömmlichen Sinne, denn wie soll uns denn das weiterbringen? Ich habe diese Erfahrung gemacht, jemand anders die nächste, vielleicht mal zwei tatsächlich die gleiche und hey - auch das ist wichtig! Es hilft uns sehr, zu wissen, dass wir mit unseren Lebenserfahrungen nicht allein sind, vor allem mit den schwierigen, mit den traurigen. Was ich uns aber auf jeden Fall schenken kann, auch ohne die Erfahrungen gemacht zu haben, die der eine oder die andere gemacht hat, und ohne auch nur von ihnen zu wissen - das ist vielleicht eine andere Perspektive.

Ich will mich nicht weise nennen, aber ich weiß, dass ich in den letzten Jahren viel übers Leben gelernt habe. Vor zwei Jahren war darum die Geschichte, die ihr jetzt gleich lest, so noch nicht möglich. Damals hab ich es anders versucht, nicht schlechter, aber vielleicht etwas ungelenker. Die Ideen, die Figuren, sie alle stammen aus dem Sommer 2007, aber so erzählen konnte ich diese Geschichte erst vor zwei Monaten.

Und das hat Cornelia Funke mal über ihre Bücher gesagt? Nee. Cornelia Funke hat mal gesagt, dass…

Ich möchte helfen. Wenn ich schreibe, möchte ich anderen Menschen helfen und in diesem Fall, seid ihr das, hier. Und wenn ich das so schreibe, ohne die „“ drum herum und die Cornelia davor, klingt das ganz schön großspurig. Darum horch ich jetzt noch einmal nach, was ich eigentlich sagen möchte und sag’s. Was ich will, ganz sicher, ist euch eine Freude machen.

Egal, wie’s euch gerade geht. Die Geschichte wird nicht allen von euch gefallen, das weiß ich, aber ein Geschenk ist sie trotzdem. Sie ist ganz besonders auch für die von euch gedacht, denen es gerade nicht so gut geht. Irgendwie ist gerade ganz schön der Wurm drin, oder? Ich hoffe, ihr könnt vielleicht ein wenig lächeln, während ihr sie lest. Ich hoffe, ihr alle lächelt. Und wenn jemand sogar lacht, muss er einen Kommentar schreiben und das zugeben! Hahahahahaha!


So. Nachdem wir das jetzt auch geklärt haben, geht’s los.

Ich wünsch euch viel Spaß mit dem ersten Abenteuer des kleinen Elefanten!


Der kleine Elefant räumt auf
1. Kapitel
Eine Geschichte, in der es darum geht, was Dean und Frau Zimmermann werden möchten. )


Aug. 29th, 2009 12:42 pm
resa: (yoga)

I have a favour to ask.

You know, I have this class I have a short story to hand in for on Monday. On the one hand, I'm confident that I haven't written three pages of senseless yogic stream of consciousness blablablah, on the other... Well,

a) English is not my native language,
b) descriptions of yoga poses sometimes are rather confusing,
c) I put my heart into it (big news, huh?), and
d) I don't want to embarrass myself in front of the most awesomest teacher ever.

So. I don't want to burden any of you with a deep beta reading, but would you be willing to just read through it? Please tell me where I can find you on a scale of 1 to 10 in which 1 = "I don't get a thing, hide in shame!" and 10 = "crystal clear". Two or three opinions would be awesome and immensely appreciated. I'll give this piece its finishing touches Sunday evening, so there's today and tomorrow. If there's something in my power to make you smile and compensate you for your troubles, I'd be very willing to try. :-)

You walk into the room and you know you are late. (~ 2000 words) )

Anybody? That would be so great!

*now writing the academic explanation for this*

resa: (me = awsome)
Seriously, it is 3am.

But it's done!

so there!

Aug. 23rd, 2009 09:54 pm
resa: (writing)

I'm making COFFEE. Not going to leave this desk before this thing is finished. And if it's 3am or later - I don't care. I'm young, I can manage. I'm doing this, I want this.

Here I come!

(See what two years of not writing can do to a person? I'm frowning at my enthusiasm...)
resa: (yoga)

You walk into the room and you know you are late. The lights are dimmed and people sit cross-legged on mats and blankets. They breathe evenly, quietly, and you are terribly aware of your own footsteps causing the timber flooring to squeak. You try not to hurry, but you fail. Nobody is ever late for yoga class, even if the clock says so, but during all the months you have been coming to this place, you have not been able to fully grasp the concept. You hurry to get some blankets from a shelf and pick out a spot in the room where you feel comfortable. You complete the half-circle of people as you spread your blankets, put down your sweater, and a water bottle. When you sit down, you start to sweat.

It starts slowly by just breathing, which still feels like one of the hardest parts when there is nothing else to divert your attention. You close your eyes and hear everybody else being quiet and still. Your teacher tells you to concentrate on breathing in, and breathing out. Let the air in – and let it out again, completely. You feel how you tense up and let out a sigh, which is entirely too loud. Your teacher advices you to reflect on your day, let everything come to you as it is, and let it go again. You think of moments which have made you happy, sad, or angry today, and try not to linger with the angry or sad ones. Or linger at all. What is lingering?

When your teacher finally initiates the warm-up, you are glad to have something else to do with yourself apart from thinking. While flexing your arms, legs, hips, and spine in time with your breathing, it is not too hard anymore to repeat a mantra over and over in your head. It does not come natural yet, because you are still too stubborn to just let things happen. However, you think in line; you say ‘sat’ while breathing in, and ‘nam’ while breathing out. ‘Truth’ and ‘identity’ and when you cannot concentrate well, you think, “Here I am. Here I am true,” and it works. After a while, however, you start thinking of your family and friends, colleagues and people in general and try to let them go – just for the 90 minutes of this yoga class. It does not work too well. You try hard and maybe that is the point.


Please tell me what you think! I don't need much, just "interested in hearing more" or "bored to death". This is the beginning of a short story I'm writing for last semester's class "Experiencing the Body in Literature". I'm writing about the positive bodily experience of yoga and meditation and I want to stress the interrelation and interdependancy of the body and the mind. The theme is not yet too apparent in this short extract, I guess, but I already tried to link processes of the mind to bodily actions and movements.
Yay or nay? Good start or rather take a different approach?

All in all, today was not such a good day. Writing and giving a blood donation were the only good things really, because the teeth my dentist worked on last week have started hurting a lot. I have another appointment the day after tomorrow, but keep your fingers crossed that there'll be a free 'emergency' spot tomorrow morning.  Tomorrow will be no happy day either...
resa: (writing)

Written about writing.

While thinking about writing this entry, I've seriously tried to tell myself that, "Resa, my dear, you've already used up all your "writing is shit, but I can't live without it" entries", but screw my weird thoughts somestimes, right? Where would we be without such entries to clean our thoughts, lick our wounds, and gather our energy?

Anyways, I've been thinking about writing - let's call it - stuff again for quite a while now. Hell, I've even written a few drabbly pieces, eh, a few weeks ago, before my laptop crashed (to be exact, I was writing exactly when my laptop crashed, but nevermind). Watching the recently aired season of Criminal Minds was quite an inspiration for me - nice themes, subtle hints, and interesting characters. That really got me. I loved to sit back after watching an episode, or while discussing it with somebody, and imagine. What if. I've always loved writing character studies/scenes, it is what comes to me most easily, and that's what I did. I wrote a few character studies on my favourite characters of Criminal Minds.

However, what I am facing now and what I've been kinda trying to surpress since the first time I saw the new Star Trek movie is the urge to write something more. Yes, I wanted to imagine some simple scenes with preferably Kirk and Spock, some Earth and Vulcan history, how the crew and how the Captain and his First in Command work together and awwww, I wanted to make them rant about space, the final frontier, the freedom and adventure and spaaaaaaace and....! You get it. (I still want to, hihi.) But no, there is more to it. Star Trek struck a such chord inside of me that on one day during the last week, when I was just imaging some nice little scene on the bridge of the Enterprise, I involuntarily continued like, "And what happens next?"

I was shocked.

Now, I'm sitting here with a vague idea about a story about Cpt. James T. Kirk's childhood trauma and Spock helping him getting over it.

(I was even more shocked when I was able to grasp that concept.)

I adore both characters and think they can work perfectly together as soon as they learn how to complete each other's lacks with each other's strengths. That's what I want to write about. I want to write about loss, hurt, friendship, family, and healing. About how hard it is to trust when you've always been on your own, how hard it is to let people come close to you. I know about these things very well and I believe that you write best about things which you do know well. It's only (look out, a Spock moment here) logical to write this story and do it, let's say, which my head up high.



I feel so small. I feel like I've never sat in front of the infamous first white page before and just want to run. Well, turn on the TV or radio. (I do not run from my computer.) It's so strange. On the one hand, thinking about this story now is a bit like putting on an old and well-worn piece of clothing which I found in my wandrobe by accident. It still fits and I still like it. I want to wear it again. There were times when I did not much else than plotting and writing stories. On the other hand, it's... kinda alien, totally unfamiliar. I feel weird imagining things.

How weird is that?

It might be that I'm just totally out of practice. Seriously, my plotting thoughts run as slowly as honey (or something). It might also be that what my yoga class has been trying to teach me for a year now, is finally working - live here and now. Apart from the fact that this concept wants to keep us from living too much in the past (feeling hurt) or in the future (being worried), it certainly means for me to live in the reality, too. Why would I want to spend time imagining stuff in a fictional reality? I have my life and it's great! I don't say that is not true for people who write, but it most certainly is a reason which keeps me from doing it right now. I love being with my friends more than wracking my brains about plot points, building up suspense, character development, and all this complicated stuff in which I still feel like layperson. Finally, my tendency towards perfectionism might be another reason why I don't feel comfortable to start writing since I am always afraid to screw it up (but that's a real old story not really worth the bother).


Does this sound like a typical "I don't want to write, but actually, I do" entry to you? Yes, it does.

I guess I'll try to stop fighting the inevitable and... I don't know.

Write this story?



resa: (Default)

August 2011

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