Focusing Inspiration

Originally I wanted to share about how to discover inspiration. Before doing so I misunderstood what exactly inspiration is. It’s everywhere. You could get it from a spoon hanging at a certain direction. From the way your fingers sound as they type away at the keyboard. Running water that you happen to hear when you’re driving nearby a river in your car. Inspiration is everywhere, that all depends on you. What’s the next step? Using it. Focusing that inspiration is something some writers have trouble with. They have an idea of what they want, but what next?

Here are a few things that you could do to help use it properly –

Find a sticky note:

Sticky notes are extremely useful if you have a break down of ideas. If you want to build off it later, you can create a tree like brainstorming session. Have the main idea in the middle, branch off into smaller details about it and then other details about those details. The sticky notes can be placed on a wall or a whiteboard. Easy to take off you want to change something or put it somewhere else. Also, they’re small. Harder to have an excuse on why you wouldn’t have them on you. Writers are good at creating excuses – don’t give yourself that chance.

Tape recorder:

Those are not too difficult to come by these days. If you want a handy one, get a slim model that can fit into a pocket or hide away in a backpack / bag. Better yet look on your phone for an app. Test it out first to get the feel of how the product handles. As you establish that, take it for a spin and go around your local area. Find five or so things that could be inspiring for your writing. After you’ve finished the test run, return home and see how things worked out. If you can create a page that came directly from what you’ve said on the recorder keep on using it, if it works for you.


The classic notebook. Several writers that I speak to or read blogs of talk about how they’ve written in a journal. It’s an excellent way of being out in public and writing whatever they’re thinking down. We writers have this horrible tendency to have quite a few things running through our heads. We’re all prone to forget instantly. Always have something you consider to be a journal on you at all times.

Ten random objects:

This is an odd one a friend turned on to me. Write down ten things in the room you’re in that stick out you. List them in any particular order you choose. Immediately, remove three of them. The other seven, write a sentence that involves that object. Remove two. The last five, write a paragraph about each one. Remove two you don’t like. From there, intersect the last three into your characters, or a scene that focuses on that as a high light. It’s a good way to give certain things in the homes, or residences, of your characters or even things they can be carrying. The key is to make them stand out. Make them different. While this isn’t focusing inspiration, and more of discovering it, I had wanted to include this. I thought it was tons of fun.

While these are only starting places, always consider a way for you to make your walks around the park an advantage to your writing. Inspiration is everywhere. Be prepared when it strikes you.


Vanguard, Part 2

I ran another cold rag down the front of my face. It was sweet, sweet salvation away from the pain. My gums and lips rang against their respective nerves and I could feel every pulse. It was more annoying than anything at all, started to give me a headache. Despite whoever that biker poser had been on the subway, he hit in the bitter spot right in the jaw. Damn ways to have me remember him.

I looked down at my knuckles and saw a few cuts from where I hit the front of his teeth. I figured my technique on that uppercut to his nose was clean. As I mentioned before, adrenaline is a damnable thing that can fool anyone’s body into thinking that it’s okay.
Spitting into the sink that was running nearby I cleaned up the remaining edges of crusted blood. I walked about four blocks away from the subway station before I had returned home. It was mid-fall which made this time of year edging on the front of cold weather. The blood that had begun to flow outside of my lips had already coagulated.

The water dripped down from my chin. I laughed as I tasted the copper in my teeth. Life had been funny this way. Save someone, get a reward across the face and asked what’s wrong with you. What is wrong with me?

“Hey, buddy, whatcha doing in here?” A friend of mine walked in, his voice high-pitched because he hadn’t reached puberty yet. He lived in the same apartment complex my grandmother and I lived in. I smiled before he walked in. I turned to look and he stood there in the doorway, his ratted black shirt covered in paint stains with a pair of dark green cargo shorts. Despite him being a few years younger than me we were the same height. I was one short bastard.

I said, “Hey kido, how are you doing?” He looked over at me with his dark, ambitious eyes. They were filled with that same starry desire that everyone grows up with.

He smiled at me, “Pretty good. How was hanging out with Jake?”

Jake was the friend that I had been with across town. He used to live here with us. He moved away two months ago. Never stopped him or I from hanging out with each other. Either he would come down one weekend, or I visited him. I shrugged at Elliot, “Eh,” I replied, “it wasn’t too shabby. Sorta quiet. We ran around a lot, played games. Didn’t even seem like he had ever left.”

That was how we always fabricated each hang out. Like the other had separated the other. How could we? When you lose a best friend that you’ve known since you were three, you can’t let them go when they’re only a distance away. There’s so many ways to keep in contact, so many accessible devices to allow us to see each other. Why would we try to fade?

Elliot frowned as he peered at me. “Did you get into another fight, dummy?” I laughed as he continued to glare. Running a hand through my hair I shrugged. What could I say? I’m bad at this whole “pacifism” thing that everyone’s talking about.
I waved the question off, “Nah, don’t worry about me. I hit a pole on the way back from the sub. You know me, I’m such a klutz!”

Elliot didn’t buy it and continued to sneer. “Yeah right! Liar.” Shouting the insult, he dashed off behind the door. I rolled my eyes and tended to my lip. The bottom one began to swell up. A brilliant shade of purple, with a dash of red splashed along the outer ring of it. I should’ve signed up for Mr. Universe right there.

Turning the sink off I spit into the drain one last time and followed Elliot out the door lazily. Sliding along the floor on my socks, because I’m pretty pro like that, I dashed my way into the kitchen. I could smell the delicious and intoxicating aroma of my Grandmother’s famous pasta and fish crust recipe. Tonight I was going to dine in heaven.

“Hello lovebug, how are you this evening?” My Grandmother’s glowing sunshine rolled through even on the worst of days. Her hair had been graying for quite some time before I had been even a though, now her roots were soiled with the unavoidable event of aging through the pure white roots of her hair. Her eyes were an angelic shade of light green, with her skin wrinkled as any older person had been. Yet the way she held her smile and the glint in her eyes you’d believe her to be twenty years younger. I always thought of her that way.

I greeted her in return, “Good evening, Grandmama. Makin’ your famous noddles and crust again?” It was my favorite and I had been gone for a few days. I knew the routine by now.
Her smile widened with her face stretching out like putty, “Of course darling. And don’t tell me you weren’t expected it either.” Wagging a finger at me, she removed the apron from around her pink polka-dot dress. It was what she called her “weekend” dress. Hanging it over the front of the chair at the head of the table, she asked me, “You finished your homework before you went over to Jake’s, right little one?”

I grinned at her and rolled my eyes, “’Course I did. Never go back on a word we make, amiright?”

She smiled back at me and tended to her noodles. Elliot came bursting in from the living room. “I smell noodles!” His lungs filled with air as he took a seat immediately next to mine. I heard my Grandmother chuckle under her breath.

“You smell right kido,” I went past his chair and nudged the back of his dark black hair. “Did you clean up before you came over?”

Elliot exclaimed with pride, “Yeah I did!”

“Fantastic, fantastic.” I pulled the chair out that was sat right next to my Grandmother. I went over to the fridge and grabbed the milk and three glasses. Before I knew what had happened, Grandmother had filled the plates eagerly with healthy amounts of crust and noodles along with a helping of peas that I didn’t see. Oh well, something else to try and avoid tonight besides an obvious black eye from earlier.

“Dig in,” she announced. “Wouldn’t want those bellies to empty before this food grows cold!”

I smiled as Elliot already began to destroy what had been on his plate. I poured the milk and thought about all the meals we had had with Jake over. The ones we still had together, when he’s here. The happy little mix-matched family we all were.

Things were brightest before the night came to replace it.

Vanguard, Part 1

Given the chance to help a million people, most will do so. It’s that added satisfaction of having been there for that many. It leaves the thought of the person in everyone’s mind. Rarely forgotten, told throughout the ages as the mighty hero. More than a symbol. Someone who helped millions. Maybe even to the cost of their own life.

A more significant is being there for one person. Someone unknown. Someone that will probably never know your name. Probably only know you as that one person who was looking to aid because you’re the sole person on a train that understood what was right and wrong.

Or maybe because you were the person dumb enough to do something.

Given a chance, I would have loved to have been that person. Ignorant in the sense that I could have turned my eyes away and done nothing. Sometimes you have to do something good to get back at the overly dominant evil world that we all lived in. That’s how I felt it when I raised my hand at the guy who had bashed a girl’s head into the window. When I felt his fist hitting the side of my cheek, I thought things over. As it landed, I knew I was already regretting having taken the train. I hated the train.

I spat out a bit of blood that had formed in the bottom of my lip. My tongue tingled from the metallic taste and my teeth felt jarred. The guy standing over me had that biker look, younger though. Not one of those older guys, the ones you knew who were therein the sixties doing heroine before it became mainstream. This guy was the type of biker who thought because he knew how to fix an engine made him better than most of the people here. Damned fool if you ever saw one.

He picked me up by the collar of my blazer. I had decided to walk back from my friend’s place. It was clear across town, and I was dumb enough to take the train this late.

Too many mistakes.

The poser spat in my face as he growled his jowls at me. “You lookin’ to die, punk!?”

This guy had obviously never watched any underdog movies. “Not today,” I said as heroicly as my miniature chest allowed me to bellow. Before he could attempt another threat on me, I slammed my foot down the front of his right shin. He screamed in surprised and pushed me back.

I slipped backwards and found my ass had landed my ass awkwardly in one of the train’s seats. I meant to do that. This didn’t stop the poser. As I grabbed a railing nearby to help balance my way standing, he decided it would be a good a idea to slam into me. While it did well to pin me against the seat, and knock me out of air it also provided me with a good section of meat.

Holding me to the side of the seat, I began to pummel and lay into this back and kidneys. No matter how strong you are, and I’m certainly not in the range, you can’t hit the boney area or shoulders. Too much muscle. They’d take up most of your blows and soak it all up. Have to aim for the nicer areas, the ones that screamed for you to take them. The kidneys and if you could the liver if you could reach around someone who had you pinned. As big as he was compared to me, I was able to reach around and lay into these vital areas.

He too wasn’t letting me rest, laying into my ribs and sides. They don’t go out as easily as TV leads you to believe. They’re made to protect those organs inside of your body. While they’re good against most fists, it doesn’t mean it’s going to feel like a picnic.

I clenched my teeth and held my breath through each blow. Landing a successive amount of blows to his kidneys he finally pulled back and aimed a quick jab to my jaw. My turn to go on the offensive.

What the man lacked in speed he made up in strength. Still, a good mixture of both helped a lot. Made me wish I had worked out more. The jab came in hard for my jaw, right side. I ducked quickly and dashed forward, feeling the breath of air running down my neck from his missed attack. I aimed for his waist line and pushed into him as much as I could. It was enough, plus he allowed his balance to go out the window from his attack. It was a rookie mistake.

I felt him stutter on his footing and kept my head ducked. Better to keep low than to get cocky. The guy was still bigger than me. Before he could recover from my unexpected rush, I rushed him again this time and aimed for the window behind him. There was a loud crack as the back of his skull met with the glass. I looked up to see past his form that his eyes were closed and heard the man let out the yell.

From here, things became simple. One thing to do to ensure that you’re going to win is to make sure you don’t hurt him too badly. Only enough that he remembers what can happen in public.

Pulling back from his body I came forward once more with a fluid uppercut. I had practiced this technique practically often. It had become a signature of mine. As they landed into the bottom of the guy’s nose I heard the wet snap, that moment of connection where you know where something becomes mush. This guy’s nose took a few seconds to become just that.

When you knock someone out badly, they don’t immediately fall down. They take a little bit of time to waver. Some stay coherent for a few more seconds. Most, I noticed, slide over to one side and fall to the floor that way. It’s never been clear. Always was a mess. The poser leaned to his right side and feel over the side, head first into a train seat. Head first into a seat, his lower side bent over to the panel of the chair. For any passenger that walked in or had been watching would have swore the poser was waiting for his boyfriend to arrive.

I panted for a moment. The exchange maybe took less than ninety seconds. I grabbed his hand, he yelled at me, I slid down his shin, he pinned me, I destroyed kidneys and maybe had a liver shot in there, pushed him back, slammed him into the window, and then broke his nose which was now bleeding all over the dark grey outline of the seat. Adrenaline could be a beautiful thing.

Looking over my shoulder, I saw the female who had been hit a few times by her “lover”. Her eyes looked over to me, surprised and perhaps in shock. Who helped anyone these days? I offered a hand, “You alright?” I asked.

The woman took a moment before she stood up herself and slapped her hand away from me. “What the yell did you do?” She yelled, her innocent and startled eyes vanished into a blaze of fury.

I was about to stumble out a heroic quote about saving the day before she slapped me right across the face. It reminded me why I did what I did. There was soft ding as the train stopped and I looked up at the florescent red lights. My stop had arrived. I took a few steps to my side and waved at her. “Well, weary traveler. Fear not! You’ve been saved by the mysterious young lad!”

I don’t know what shocked her more. The face she gave me when I punched out her boyfriend, or whatever the hell the poser had been, or when I announced myself as the mysterious young lad. Yeah, I made that shit up on the fly. Sue me.

Dashing through the doors I ran down the tunnels of the subway and brushed past a few people who were still out in the early night. Most avoid the subway now. It’s how it goes.

I was welcomed by a rush of free, dirtied air that filled my lungs. I took a deep breath of it and granted it into my body. It was all beautiful, all of it was fantastic. I pushed it out through my nostrils and looked up at the glowing lights that New York city provided.

I loved New York.


Star Wars Stories Update

Wanted to let the readers know I should be coming out with another story tonight.

I’ve been a bit busy lately. When it comes to writing these stories, I want to put as much time and effort I can to every one of them. Saying that with as much truth as I can place into it, I’m enjoying where I’m taking it.

I do realize that each story does take time. If I threw them out like random pieces of paper, they wouldn’t be worth reading.

I’m hoping all readers are having as good of a time reading them as I am writing them. They’re coming along nicely.

Also be sure to keep on a look out for the next Drake Williams story. I should have it added soon. After two or three more additions to it, I should be finishing it up and writing another.

Excited about all the ideas.

Stay tuned!

Mass Effect Universe – Possible Stories

Now, before I begin, I’d like to state I’m not into fan-fiction that attempts to place things that are not possible in a certain universe. I prefer to write things that are accurate, in that universe.

With that stated, allow me to share something I’d like to see some feedback on.

I’ve lately been racking the idea to write a set of stories that occur in the Mass Effect Universe. I don’t want to do things after Shepard, possibly before but I won’t know any major events that are going on throughout the galaxy. Anyway. If I were to write some Mass Effect stories, which have no ties in with the Main Plot line, other than the War, would some be interested in reading?

I’ve noticed a lot of my readers have a heart-throb for some of the posts that I make about Mass Effect. There’s not a lot of posts I can place on here besides the Multiplayer stuff, and anything they’ll, hopefully, later release about spin-offs from Shepard’s story-line. As I’ve said, they left themselves a massive universe. They’re bound to do something. If I were to make a set of stories that are toned in the Mass Effect universe, I plan to stay as accurate as possible to the stories and the lore. That’s an important part of my fan-fiction. I don’t plan on doing anything that’s crazy, or making my characters ultimate bad-asses  They’re going to be fairly close to uncommon soldiers that go above and beyond the call-of-duty; but they’re not Shepard level, or anyone else in his squad.

I’d like to see some activity and get as much feedback as possible. Let me know what you all think! I’ll probably be posting a sample of what I’d like to write about later in the day. Stay tuned!