The Written Road

Sometimes it’s long and sometimes it’s short. The writer cannot always know ahead of time. If they plan on a work being long they may tend to fill in sections that don’t need filling in. It is best to see where the story takes you. The ending may be clear to you from the start, but it may change overtime and that is okay.That shows that you are growing with the characters. A reader shouldn’t know whats going to happen at the end from the beginning, so why should you? What’s the fun in that? Let the characters you came up with take you on a journey.

It’s best to keep to your element. If you think what you have written is worth reading then other people will feel the same way. Of course you cannot engage everyone, so why waste your time trying? Keep it to what you know and what you like. If for example you like horror, write about horror. Don’t worry about feeling you might be typecast  as a horror writer. So what? Do not try to up your vocabulary either, because you may edgarfeel yours is not up to par. By looking through the thesaurus you are writing something you would not normally write. This takes away from what could be a well written, engaging story that people would enjoy reading. Don’t worry about the extent of your vocabulary for now. It will get better the more you read and write.

On the contrary, writing is not like riding a bike. You cannot simply just hop back on. You have to keep at it for it to mature. Reading is also essential. How is one expected to write better if they cannot engage in what others have written? By keeping to only your own writing, you cannot experience anything new. It’s good to read up on many authors. Not only that, but also articles in the newspaper, the average person’s blog posts, etc. Read stuff from this century, the 1800s, from when rock n’ roll first hit the streets. This way you are guaranteed to get a broad stroke on all types of different avenues of writing. You will be able to pick up more things than if you were just to stick to one thing.

Writing should be a daily exercise. There  is this article Morning Pages by Julia Cameron. She states that by writing down three pages once you get up can ease the tension and get you into the flow. This is a great ghtexercise especially for those who find it annoying at first. Some of the best writing is done when a person feels unhappy and just wants to be left alone. There is more emotion that can sweep through the pages. Writing everyday can ease the stresses one may be feeling allowing for the mind to become clearer, being able to come up with more ideas to write about. You basically have to give a little to get something out of it. Don’t expect ideas to hit you all at once. Keep working at it and they will be flying around your head in no time.

The Release

Hello everyone. So I have talked about my tutorials projects in previous blogs. The two before the one I am about to talk about deals with diabetes. The routine of injecting an insulin injection into my leg and a what if video if I were to get a pancreas transplant. This new project deals with the release of pain for a diabetic before and after injecting themselves with a needle.

The before images show me preparing to limit the pain before I even inject.r1r7r2r5

The after images show how I can limit the pain that has acquired. Now it doesn’t always hurt, but these are just precautions to help ease the mind. Most of these images are healthy alternatives yet there are a few that could and will cause more harm if done repeatedly.r3 r6 r8 r4

At first I drew the images from references. Then I covered the canvases I used with an acrylic paint wash. After that I used charcoal  to bring out the drawings. I decided to add a little bit of color to each one to bring out certain elements. Then I took an knife and cut into the canvases, stitched them back up and poured different amounts of fake blood so it looks like it is coming out of the stitched marks. This is to convey that even though I am trying to reduce pain, the pain is always there underneath and it can rise to the surface at any moment, no matter what I try to do to relieve it.


(Hello everyone. Here is a new narrative I have been working on. It is a bit revolting at parts so fair warning. Well enjoy!)

“Hey John.”


“Everything good?” asked Ben as he opened the door to find his roommate in a parka lounger staring at a blank television set.

“Yeah. Yeah everything’s just gravy.” John got up from the chair and moved toward Ben. “Where do I start? I lost my job today.”

“What?! What happened?” Ben asked with a high pitched squeal.

“Well apparently marketing firms find it impolite to jerk it off in the company bathrooms.”

“John what the hell–”

“Never mind that I was on my break of course!”

“Why couldn’t you just wait til you got back here?”

John turned his head impatiently to his right as if a nervous tick came over him. “Well a Miss Jessica, I decided to bring her over a nice little cinnabun for her this lovely morning. Her door was unlocked so I just wandered on in. She was soaked, Ben. No, not from water but from the pool boy’s own personal selection of swimmers. Streaming right from her mouth. Her mouth Ben!”

Ben didn’t know what to say. “I, I’m sorry John. Really I–”

“So we break up. Short end of the story.”

What in gods sake did you do to her…them? Ben wondered.

“So, mighty pissed off at work I was, but I held it together until my break. My eyes turned to the bathroom and instead of putting another hole through the wall, I thought I’d do something along more of a healthy measure.”

Another? But Ben decided not to interrupt.

“So I was in the stall whacking it and I guess I was making a wee it too much noise and guess who comes in?”

This time Ben did speak up. “I don’t know John.”

“No guess, come on!”

Ben just stood there with his mouth slightly ajar, head shaking slowly back and forth. John looked at him with an open hand gesture. Well, I’m waiting. “Well you’re close! But no. It was the head of the company. Apparently his private toilet was backed up. Not a surprise. The fat bastard has been eating gyros for lunch everyday for the last five years.”


“So he hears me and knocks on the door. Well I was at the reach of orgasm, kind of loose control of my pecker and splat all over the floor hitting Mr. Duffy on his left shoe. Whoops!”

“Jesus John.”

“So I zip up, look at Mr. Duffy in the face, he tells me to get the fuck out, so  I pop him one in the mouth and leave.”

“You hit him?!” Ben couldn’t stand up straight anymore and had to grab the counter for balance.

“Yeah, yeah I hit him. So that was  my day buddy. How was yours?”

Ben suddenly woke up in a fright. He checked the clock. 5:26 AM. He would have to get up for work about half an hour. Oh wait, he thought. No I don’t. I don’t work there anymore. For reasons Ben couldn’t say. He got out of his bed none-the-less and entered John’s room. Sound asleep, at least that’s what people would think if they were to see him right now. But not Ben. He knows the truth.

They lived private lives, Ben and John. Both lone wolves, with little family connection. John had his mother in Seattle who maybe gets in contact with him once a year to send out the annual Christmas picture. Ben on the other hand, well Ben didn’t really have anybody. If it wasn’t for each other, at least one of them might have gone crazy from loneliness. In fact it looks like one of them has, but for a different reason.

Ben never had a girlfriend, never worked in a marketing company and never assaulted his boss. No that young lady and her pool cleaner he would hear on the news later that day died from falling over the ledge of a balcony. Also a poor old Mr. Duffy suffered from a heart attack after slipping on some left over mayo that was dripping from his hands. Although, that dream he had very well could have been his brain saying John was in on the whole thing.

Ben couldn’t deny he did kill John. Self defense mind you, John was drinking heavily at the time and came at Ben with a meat cleaver. It was a matter of kill or be killed. In his mind it all fit together and he believed every word of it. Even in his dreams his subconscious had pointed away from himself. It’s just too bad he will later have to convince more than just himself.

Ben walked out the door into the brisk morning with the couple of days he had left, his sanity not too far behind him.