A Year in Review: 2015

2015 has ben a whirlwind of a year. Many things have happened both in my personal and my academic life, and I can't let this year go without doing a revision of both the good and the bad moments. It is difficult, to sum everything up in just a few lines, but I feel like writing down everything that has either weighed down my heart or uplifted my spirits when I was sad during this year is a great way of saying goodbye to 2015 and welcome 2016 with eager and open arms. 

Good things that happened: 

• My niece was born back in February. She's two months shy of turning one year old, and seeing the little one growing healthier and prettier and smarter day by day has definitely been one of the highlights of 2015. She's a delight, and whenever she sees me, she flings her arms at me with a bright smile on her round, brilliant face, and I can't help but smile back and hug her real tight. That's when I feel like all the bad things can go fuck themselves, because nothing can ever go wrong when such a little precious one loves me in such an unconditional way. 
• I finished my Creative Writing course in June and, even thought I miss it more than I expected, I'm so so glad for it. I rediscovered my love for writing, I was given not only the best writing advice I've ever ben given, but some of the highest praise I've ever received, and all of that increased my self confidence as a writer and gave me hopes that, if I work hard enough, maybe one day I'll be a great writer. 
• I finished my second year in Medicine and I came out alive! I even passed all of the subjects I took! Isn't that wonderful? Sometimes I feel like I'm not good enough for this, the doubts start and I can't shut them up, but then I think back on all the things I've achieved up until this point and I think that maybe I'm not so bad at this, and maybe, just maybe, I can be a great doctor one day, even if sometimes I stumble on the way. 
• I went to London, which was like, a dream. A fucking dream come true. And I decided that, yes, I love the city even more than I thought I'd do, and yes, I'd love to live there some time in my life, thank you very much. 
• I reached an agreement with mom, and we both promised to save money so I could go to Cambridge Summer School and take a course on English Literature and Creative Writing. It still seem surreal. 
• I made friends with the most unexpected people, and I was excited every single day to go to classes and be with my friends there. They make the experience of studying medicine much more bearable and much, much more worth it. 
• I started writing and blogging again. I'm planning on writing a children's book and giving it to my niece as a present. I've been given a beautiful notebook I've always wanted to have to write more stories in it. I've been given an online course on Amazon Marketing and Book Publishing (how amazing is that?? I'll do a review as soon as I get down to it!) and I'm planning on taking an online course on Children's Book Writing as well. My writing life seems to go smoothly. 
• I've been with my family, I've loved them unconditionally, and they've loved me back as unconditionally. We've stuck together through the hard times, and we'll keep doing so. 
• I've grown personally. I've learned so many things that I feel like a new person. I've learned to be gentler and care a little bit less about the things people say about me, and I've learned to love myself a little bit more, and to be more honest with the things I feel. 
• Crimson Peak was released. Do I even need to explain myself? 
• My two best friends keep being awesome and keep loving me no matter what. I can't be thankful enough for them. They've also fangirled about Crimson Peak with me. A lot. 
• I've learned that you can laugh really really hard and have a really really good time while taking on-line exams for your university if you take said exams with your friends. My face hurts from laughing when I finish these tests, and we still managed to get 10/10 on all of them. We're a team. 
• I've received a scholarship, so now I don't have to pay a single cent for my university studies, and I can take that weigh off my parents' shoulders.
• One of my sisters found a new, well-paid job at a private hospital and the other one has been offered a better contract in her usual hospital as well, so they're now better paid and can live a bit more unconcerned about that. 

Bad things that happened: 

• Money keeps being an issue, and things are a bit rough right now, but we'll manage and we'll keep fighting. 
• Mom and dad's health has been a bit delicate this year. They're both not so young anymore, and they need to take care of themselves, but they're also really stubborn and won't listen to us when we tell them to take a break. 
• My health has seen better times as well, especially this past couple of weeks. I got food poisoning and then I got a virus that kept me unable to eat anything that wasn't rice or white bread for a couple of weeks, and that has fucked up my study schedule as well. 
• This term has been a bit difficult, what with my niece being constantly at home, my mom needing help with taking care of her, the hectic schedule I've had and the mental state I was in. I don't know how finals will turn out, but I'm definitely trying my best and if I fail, well, then I'll have to try again. 
• Things have been a bit strained with some friends this year. We're all managing as best as we can but, some things are just not good, and I feel like I've lost some good relationships along the way. 
• I've learned some ugly things that people think about me but, well, you can't be liked by everyone, right? 
• I haven't felt like myself for some time. I used to read more than 50 books in a year and draw day after day. I used to go to the cinema every weekend (come on, 8.60€ for a theatre ticket?? Are we mad?!) and now I don't do those things as often. However, I've promised myself that I will take back all of those habits, because they were the things that made me feel better about myself, and I can't be completely happy without that. 
• I have been a bit disorganized this term, and I hated it. I like keeping up with uni work and having everything under control, but this term has been hectic both personally and academically speaking, so I'll have to get a grip on myself this 2016 and go back to the organized applied student that I am. I got a pretty planner, for that. And when I buy a pretty planner, it means I'm serious about business. 
• I wanted to read 25 books for my Goodreads Reading Challenge, but I only managed to read 12. 12 books in a year?? Come on, I'm a disgrace. 
• I haven't watched Les Miserables once this year. Kill me. 
• I was studying to get my C2 certificate, and I was going to take it this December, but my English School misplaced my exam candidate papers and I wasn't informed of my exam date. Conclusion: I was called 5 minutes before my oral exam started by a woman asking me if I was going to take the exam at all, and I was left speechless because I had no sodding idea that I was supposed to take an exam in less than 5 minutes. In another city. Nice. 

What I've learnt so far: 

• I'm capable of much more than I thought I could achieve. Even when things go awry, I'm still capable of going on. 
• No matter what people say, money is not what really matters. Safety and having your loved ones by your side are the essential ingredients for being happy. And if things go pear shaped but you still have your loved ones beside you then, well, things always turn out to be better than you thought. 
• The smile of a little child can brighten the darkest of days. 
• The smile and tender words of your friends can brighten the darkest of days. 
• The hugs and smothering kisses of your parents can brighten the darkest of days. 
• There will always be people out there who love you just as you are, no matter what a few say or do. 
• You can always learn new things about yourself and the ones you love. You can always learn if you're willing to.
• I'm stronger than I ever thought I was. 
• Looking back on this list, I see that the list of good things is longer than the one of bad things, so the good things outweigh the bad ones by a long, long shot. And sometimes I forget that, but I shouldn't. 

I can only ask of 2016 to be full of things as good as the ones 2015 brought. And whatever bad thing it throws on my way, I'll be ready to jump right over that obstacle, and keep looking forward to my niece's smile, or the hugs of my parents, or the words of my friends, or the art I love, or the things I never expected, but happened anyway. 

Mapmaker

I've dreamt too often of wandering in cities I've never seen and of sleeping under rooftops  that have housed way too many souls since they were built by calloused hands. 

I long to get lost in streets damp with dew, and to rejoice with a warm cup of coffee warming my hands in a bustling cafe I found in the middle of a hectic city. Maybe I'm visiting for the first time, or maybe for the umpteenth time, but being so in love with such a place of this world makes it feel like every time I visit is the first time ever. 

I want to get blisters in my tired feet that can't stop rushing from monuments to the nearest museum. I want to be amazed at ancient buildings and envy the always greener park grass  of cities that didn't see me grow, but that are now essential to my personal growing. I want to walk the streets and sit in the benches where my favorite writers came up with the plots for their biggest novel, and I want to sleep with the mountains Shelley so hauntingly talks about in her stories right in front of me. I want to fall in fleeting love with passing strangers, and run my fingers over book spines that are written in languages I don't even understand. 

I want to feel the snow that falls silently melting on my tongue, to run because I'm missing the train. I'm dying to fall asleep on someone's shoulder inside a rattling wagon while the rain pours down the glass and blurs the scenery which details I'll never remember. I want to fill notebooks with more photographs than anyone should take and with shaky words that reflect my eagerness to consume this life I've been given. 

I want to draw a map of the world I've made up with my own two hands and walked with my own two feet. I want to see all of it for myself, to feel all of it with my body, to love all of it with my heart. 

Musical Mondays #2: Autumnal playlist

Combine Autumn and music and you have two of my favorite things in the world together. There's nothing that comforts me quite as much as listening to my most beloved songs in a rainy autumnal day. Even though this autumn is being rather dry and sunny for my liking. 

With this post I want to bring to you guys some songs that have always made me feel at ease with the world. This playlist will probably make no sense whatsoever, but these are the songs I've been listening to non-stop lately. 

Also, it's being an exhausting month and I needed to do something today to relax and prepare for the week ahead with my batteries fully charged, so here we go: 

• Damien Rice & Earl Harvin at Michelberger Lobby 2014: I stumbled onto Damien Rice's music quite by chance and i haven't stopped listening to his songs ever since. There's something in his trembling voice that makes me feel instantly warm, and that's why he needed to be the first on my list. Moreover, these are my favorite versions of Delicate and Volcano ever. Those are the first two songs. Just listen to them. Do it. 
• Imitosis - Andrew Bird: Brace yourselves because this won't be the only Andrew Bird song on the list. However, this is surely one of my favorites. I think this was also the first song by Andrew I listened to, and it's one I never skip whenever it plays on my phone. 
• A Nervous Tic Motion of the Head to the Left - Andrew Bird: don't let yourselves be fooled by the title of this song. It's beautiful. Believe me, I know what I say. It's poetic and gives off certain vibes that I always dream of capturing in my stories. And Andrew's voice. Just. Ugh. 
• Wonderful Life - Smith & Burrows: this song is known by everyone but this version is the one that I like the most. It feels like being embraced really tight. 
• The Young Blood Chronicles - Fall Out Boy full album: this is great. Like, science-fiction-adventure-movie great. It's like a fucking apocalyptic comic book. It's bloody, makes no sense whatsoever and has both Elton John and a drug addled Patrick in it. Also Patrick Stump's great voice, which is always a plus. And every song is worth listening to on repeat until you know the lyrics by heart. I watch this twice a day and I'm not ashamed of it. It's explicit at some points, so be aware of that if you get grossed out easily. The music makes up for all the guts, tho. You'll end up singing from the top of your lungs and wanting to lead a Revolution in less than a minute. 
• Girl from the North Country - Bob Dylan & Johnny Cash: this is one of the most beautiful, tender and nostalgic songs ever. I love Bob Dylan and I love Johnny Cash and I love this song and whenever I listen to it I fall in love with life a little bit more. I melt every time it plays on my iTunes lists. P.S: Future boyfriend, if you want to captivate me, sing this to me in hushed tones. Here, have another version, because one is not enough. 
• Hallelujah - Jeff Buckley: I think I know every turn of Jeff's voice and every flicker of his lips from all the times I've looked wonderingly at this video. It makes time stop and life seems a tad bit easier whenever I listen to this. It's better than a physiotherapist and a psychologist combined, making my muscles and my mind go loose for 6 minutes of every day. And that may or may not mean that I listen to this everyday. 
• Oniria e Insomnia - Love of Lesbian: this is another of those songs I'd like to turn into a tale. It's poetic, talking about the love between two very special people, two allegories that represent exactly the opposite, and that's why they can't be together. Even if you don't know any Spanish, listen to it, it's a really sweet song. 
• Arise - ES Posthumus: I'm a big fan of soundtracks and instrumental music, and it helps me with writing and with studying. This is one of my favorite pieces by ES Posthumus, a band that has been used countless times in movie trailers. It makes me feel like fighting in an epic war in some fantasy world that needs to be protected from some evil force. Nice. 
• Joe Wright's Anna Karenina OST: Anna Karenina is one of my favorite films ever and its soundtrack it's just as beautiful. It's really helpful when you need to concentrate on your homework or any other task, or simply for leisure listening. 
• Andrew Bird Full Performance Live at KEXP: this is where I truly started appreciating Andrew's talent. Or witchcraft. Because no human should be allowed to give off such magical vibes just by making music. 
• Saint-Säens' Danse Macabre by Anastasia & Liubov Gromoglasova: I don't even have words for what these two girls can do. They must be magical. 
• Bob Dylan Vol. 1: "Les anos folk", complete album: did you really think I was done with Bob Dylan? Did you really think it was going to be enough with just one song? HA! Then you don't know me at all. 
• Michelle - The Beatles: one of my favorites. It's one of those songs you can slowly dance to while you sing to each other with the heart-eyes and everything. 
• Autumn Leaves - Eric Clapton: Bob Dylan sang this when I went to see him this summer. My friend and I spent two days thinking where had we heard this before, and then I couldn't get the damn song out of my head. I think it's too late and it has found a place deep down in my soul. 
• Strangers in the Night - Frank Sinatra: I want to come off as a strong, independent woman that needs no man, but I'm a romantic at heart and I can't hide it hard as I try. But come on, it's Sinatra. Surely you guys can forgive me for my foolishness. 
• Three White Horses - Andrew Bird: Andrew strikes again!!! Come on, don't make me choose just one song. I can't do that. It's like choosing between one of my internal organs. I wonder why people tell me that I'm dramatic. 

What about you guys? Which songs do you like to listen to in a rainy, cold, foggy, autumnal day?

Falling into autumn

There's something that feels really great about autumn mornings. I can get up early and watch the sun rising through my window while its fire-y glow paints the dull walls of my room. It's like a sense of beginning, of promise, of bright things waiting for me to catch up with them.

That's what September has always done to me: making me feel like I have a new chance to create, and live, and fuck things up. I get to go to university again, and having been a student my whole life, I know of no better brand new start than September. Each year brings more difficulties with it, but they feel like a sheen of dust covering an ancient writing machine: blow the dust away, and all you get are infinite worlds and possibilities held by your own two hands.

It is still hot, but when I wake up at 6:30 a.m and I walk to the underground station for my daily commute, the freezing morning wind cuts my cheekbones and makes me feel really conscious about all the good things I have, and of how happy I am for a person that wakes up at fucking six in the morning. This autumnal breeze smells of sea salt and dying leaves, but also of promises. New courses get me all excited with the unexpected. 

There are things I know will happen. There's the certainty of dark circles under my too shiny eyes, of hurting wrists and throbbing finger calluses after intense note taking in class, of whiplash that leaves me out of breath, of back muscles as taut as tightropes. There's the certainty of ink stains in my hands and of hurried handwriting in notes I can't even understand. There's the certainty of feeling trapped in my bedroom after too many hours sitting before my textbooks and there's the certainty of a full yellow moon lightning a path on the sea while my mom and I look silently at all of it from our terrace. There's the certainty of crying and laughing and loving again and again, of seeing my niece get bigger and smarter every day, and of having my nose bit by her growing aching teeth. There's the certainty of fashionable winter clothes and of painting my lips with a burgundy lipstick that is not dark enough for my liking. 

But there are so many other things I don't know will happen, or how they will happen, that I shiver just with the thought of it. 

Maybe I'll see a fully starry night sky this year for the first time in my life. Maybe I'll learn how to identify all of those starts I'm dying to see. Maybe I'll go back to that cozy country hotel I used to love when I was a child, all wood and stones and greens and browns, a place surrounded by chestnut trees. Maybe I'll get to sit there, in a plush sofa in front of the roaring fireplace, listening to the rain splattering on the windowpanes and waiting for the rain to stop so I can go and venture myself in the woods. But I'll also feel blessedly content in that moment, when there's rain and security and coziness all around me and the only thing I want is to stop time right there, letting myself to feel so alive that it even hurts. 

Maybe this year I'll come to terms with the fact that I'm a hopeless romantic. Who knows if I'll get kissed this year, if I'll have one of those moments in which you feel absolutely ok with who you are, if there'll be nights of confessions shaped with warm breath and hushed tones, even though no one can hear us, while our heads are comfortably laid on a pillow with just the right space to speak with our lips barely touching and our noses bumping each other every time we move. I don't know when the fleeting touch of a hand, or the pressure of a firm thigh against my own under a table, or a shy cautious look that speaks volumes will make a tingling sensation run down my spine until it reaches my toes, curling them with anticipation. Maybe I'll fall in love this winter. It seems like a very apt season to fall in love, truly, wholly, and stupidly into it. 

I don't know which things will disappoint me, and I don't know all the wonderful moments that lay ahead of me. I'll keep coming off as an independent woman, but maybe this will be the time in which I learn how to wear my heart on my sleeve and I won't mind admitting that I crave simple physical contact as much as I crave the oxygen I breath. I don't know which movies and songs will make my heart beat faster, and I don't know which songs that I haven't listened to in years I will come across, drowning me in fond memories of 'better times'. I can't wait for all the planned trips that will never be and the unexpected ones that will turn out to be invaluable adventures. Maybe I'll get to travel by train, and that'll make me fall head over heels in love with life again. Everything will come crushing down on me, and it'll feel wonderful.

I'll wait expectantly for rainy days and hot chocolate cups, and hopefully I'll grow a bit more this season. I'll turn 21 and that won't be terrifying at all. Maybe I'll get into driving again, and I'll have bad days and good days and everything that comes in between, and everything will be alright. 

It is all worth it. 

I'll keep living and I can't think of something better than that. 

Book Review | 'The Thousand Autumns of Jacob de Zoet' by David Mitchell

In 1799, Jacob de Zoet disembarks on the tiny island of Dejima, the Dutch East India Company’s remotest trading post in a Japan otherwise closed to the outside world. A junior clerk, his task is to uncover evidence of the previous Chief Resident’s corruption.

Cold-shouldered by his compatriots, Jacob earns the trust of a local interpreter and, more dangerously, becomes intrigued by a rare woman—a midwife permitted to study on Dejima under the company physician. He cannot foresee how disastrously each will be betrayed by someone they trust, nor how intertwined and far-reaching the consequences.

Duplicity and integrity, love and lust, guilt and faith, cold murder and strange immortality stalk the stage in this enthralling novel, which brings to vivid life the ordinary—and extraordinary—people caught up in a tectonic shift between East and West.

I don't really know where to begin. From the start, I suppose. 

My first contact with David Mitchell's literature (or magical literary superhero powers if I'm honest with myself) came through the cinematographic adaptation of 'Cloud Atlas', a highly acclaimed novel by both the public and the critics. It had been turned into a movie by the Wachowskis that came and went without a second glance from either of those two indicators of media success and, therefore (and sadly), creative quality (as if). 

However, I loved the movie. The fact that my sister and I were completely alone in the theatre when we saw it was just the icing on an enticing, though-provoking, original cake. We couldn't take our eyes away from the screen, from the characters, from the look and the feel of it. It was a film that managed to mix historical fiction, sic-fi, thriller, action, romance, drama and humor within the time-span of just three hours. Amazing. 

Anyway, this is not the moment to vent to you all about this movie that still haunts my waking hours and has me thinking about it at all times. Back to business. 

So that's how I got into 'Cloud Atlas' and that's how I became addicted to Mitchell's words. They're haunting, vivid, strange, visible, tangible things that take a place in your heart and never abandon it. Never, ever. 

Not even the fact that I had watched the movie before reading the book tarnished its magnetism and beauty. Because that's what I've found Mitchell's writing to be, beautiful and magnetic. 

It took more than a month to finish this book. I'm usually a really fast reader, but exams tramped my reading-speed. I didn't mind it, though, because the story unravels itself in each page. It's slow, yes, but it blooms in such a way that you don't even realize how many things are happening and suddenly you've reached a cathartic point that has you holding your breath in suspense. 

It's subtle, filled with cunning metaphors and sensual imagery. That's one of the things I like the most about Mitchell's writing: he unravels a world we aren't supposed to know about in this book. The island of Dejima is almost like a secret place we're looking at through a keyhole, seeing glimpses of fleeting silk and forbidden relationships. You can go from rude sea wolf's jargon to faltering dialogue between the Dutch and the Japanese to delicate confessions sushed by the silent falling of soft snow. 

That's the best thing about this novel: you can see everything. Japan unwraps itself like a lover in dim light, letting you see its most intimate parts. It's a story that you enjoy in every possible way. It stimulates your imagination, your intelligence, your thirst for more. The fact that a maritime theme was predominant for a good part of the novel did it for me. I'm a sucker for maritime stories. Throw in a bit of scheming, economic and love interests, Japanese culture and colonial history, blend it all, and you have the perfect mix for a session of really, really good reading. 

And the characters. My.God. Mitchell is a master at creating characters. Well, Mitchell is a master of good writing. De Zoet is complex, full of angles and light and shadows. Uzaemon is mysterious and lovely and strong. And Aibagawa Orito is one of the best female characters I've ever found in modern literature. She hides multiple dimensions, holds herself with strength, and it's just so incredibly amazing and clever that I can't help but look up to her. And these are only the three main characters. Antagonists and supporting characters come and go without letting you know which are their intentions, embroidering a plot that connects perfectly at the end. 

I don't want to let you in in more of the plot, because it's best to dive in the story without knowing much about what's going to happen. It's a novel to be enjoyed quietly, with attention, because it contains so many details that you can get lost easily, and that's probably one of the bad things about it, but it is nothing compared to the satisfaction you get when you close the book after having finished it, knowing that you will think about this story for a long, long time. 

_____________________________________

5 stars out of 5 

☆☆☆☆☆

And you? Have you read this book? 
 What did you think about it? 

The wonder of fiction

Ever since I can remember I've been surrounded by stories. Books stashed in shelves were my favorite sight as a child, and still are. I lost myself in the woods outlined by the pages of a novel, always in search of beastly fairies and gentle dragons. I was always the hero of tender heart and the villain of cunning intellect. I was the sea, lulling you to sleep or dragging you down to death. 

I always believed in those stories, and I don't think that belief has waned with age. My faith is still held by all of those worlds woven by strings of words. I saw myself in every character, in every situation, in every feeling. Not in a sense of 'I'm like this character', but in a sense of kinship, of understanding and being understood. I could live every single thing others had lived before me, and most importantly, I could feel myself validated. I was not stupid or strange for liking the things I liked, I was not different for loving in the way I loved. My favorite characters had more flaws than I could count with the fingers of my hands, and I still loved them nonetheless. If I loved those characters, I could love others as well. I could love myself, no matter how many imperfections I saw when I looked at my reflection. I was ok, I was good, I was a truthful statement of life itself. 

Now all those ideas remain at the back of my mind, telling me that I'm still valid. But university has turned my life upside down, and now I don't have as much time to read as I did when I was a careless child. I'm still struggling to fit in time in my schedule to sit down with a book and properly read it, and I've come to the realization that l'm not such a speed-reader now as I was then. I think that has impaired my imagination a bit. Growing old is no fun.

However, I still find some kind of cozy joy whenever I read a story set in a fantastical world. It's like a warm light filling up my chest. That's why I decided to start writing my own stories. 

There's a kind of universality in fiction that I don't find in non-fiction works. In the latter I always feel like the authors are trying to dress up reality into some fancy imagination that is quite dishonest with what they truly want to express. However, in fiction, you can simply make up an entire universe out of whole cloth. And since you're not restricted by reality itself, you don't censor your words for a fear of being judged for trying to make yourself sound better than you actually are. You can explore the world with the innocence of a toddler and the brutality of desperation. In a fictional world, the things that are narrated, could be happening to anybody. They could be happening to you, and that's magical. 

With fiction I can pick up my fountain pen and my worn out notebooks and I can become the sea itself, I can build my own cathedrals with crystal walls breaking down the light that passes through them. But I don't think of the action of writing so much as an 'I can', but rather more of an 'I do' situation. I do become pirate ships and the raiders that sail in them. I am the dragon and the slayer, I love and I hate. I have thousands of lovers or none of them. I work in every profession known to mankind and in others we can't even imagine. I study in a castle overlooking sharp mountains. I go through sadness and lust and fear and joy and utter savagery in the span of a page. I'm gentle and rude and canny and naïve. I'm life itself, I'm death itself. I'm heaven and hell and day and night. I'm made up of stardust and shadows and dreams and nightmares. I'm alive.

Fiction allows us to narrate our own life and the life of others we'll never get to know. Through fiction we comprehend the world and get a grasp of what we are. It's a bit self-centered, if I think it coolly. But I also remember my dog-eared books, the notebooks I've filled with words that were crawling out of my over-thinking brain, and then I can only think of fiction as the only way to live in the truest form. And we do it constantly. 

We narrate our lives. We turn them into stories we tell to others because we need to get that weight out of our constricted chests. I've lost count of how many times my parents have narrated their life to me, of all the anecdotes that turn themselves into fairy tales when they roll out of a rapid-fire tongue. I can almost see those stories as movies in my head, and I realize every time I think of them that they're the truest stories I'll ever hear. We all are narrators, we all use language as a means of living, of connecting with others, of finding peace of mind. We're shaky rowboats drifting in a stormy ocean between cutting cliffs, driven by a mermaid's song into believing that something brilliant lies under the madness of the sea. And sometimes we do find that finer thing, and we perpetuate it in our minds with words. And we perpetuate it in others' minds with the written word. 

Creative Writing Prompts | Creative Plagiarism

I know, I said the forbidden word: plagiarism. 

It's haunting, the fear of writing something, spending hours on it and then realizing your idea wasn't so original once you sit and re-read the whole thing after the zillionth edit. A horrible feeling, guys. Gut-Wrenching. 

But sometimes, plagiarism isn't so bad. Not when you use it as a creative writing exercise, anyway. That's what my professor taught me. Some of the best-known books in literature are a reinvention of some classic story or myth. 

For example, in Dramatic English Literature, the concept of Lively Turning is quite popular, as well as among Shakespearean actors. It consists on re-writing, re-thinking or re-interpreting Greek Classics. Shakespeare did this: Antony and Cleopatra's plot is based on Thomas North's translation of Plutarch's Lives. Then, we have the example of Romeo and Juliet, as well as Othello, which are based on old Italian tales. 

To be fair, Occidental Literature relies on Arabian tales that are even older than Latin Literature itself.  Actually, the myth of originality among writers (and in general) was born with Romanticism, in the XIX Century (rather a young concept, wouldn't you say?). 

So if you're one of those writers that worries at their nails whenever they sit to write because they have 'no original ideas', don't worry mate, you're not the only one. I'd even urge you to take your favorite stories, Classics, Myths and fairytales and turn them into something new. Believe me, it's fun. And freeing. Knowing that you're actively altering plot lines and characters lifts a weigh from your shoulders, and gives you ample space to jus be creative. 

Just imagine all the possibilities. So many AUs. You can do whatever you want, turn any story into something completely different. I'll list all of the advantages I've found in Creative Plagiarism: 

• You don't have to worry about plot-holes. Everything's done for you. Just give it a twist so you have something new, something fresh, something witty or funny or heart-warming or heart-wrenching. Whatever floats your boat. 
• You don't have to worry about characterization. The characters are already there. When you know a character's personality, you can work on the way you characterize them. Are they funny? Are they strong or weak? Are they expressive? Do they like Mondays? Do they enjoy summer or winter? Are they clever? How can I show all of these things? How do characters interact with each other? What would a knew character do to this world? Sit, analyze, and write. Write, write, write. 
• You can work on your word-choosing. When the major plot and the characters are already on your mind, grammar, syntax, and wording are things you can play around with as much as you want. Shorten paragraphs, lengthen others, eliminate sentences you think are superficial... It's just you and your literary genius! 
• Working on your literary devices. Why not turn a play into a novel? Why not turning a tale in third-person into a second-person one? Why don't you write a myth as a poem? Taking a whole paragraph and turning it into a three-word metaphor? Finding as many allegories as you can? Using metonymies? Changing the mood? Anything that comes to your mind can be possible, and literary devices can change a literary work completely. 
• Any kind of practice is good practice. How do you become a writer? By writing. Reading as many book as you can and gaining the skill to know which resources, literary devices and creative weapons you can use is very important too, but knowledge is nothing without practice, at least when it comes to writing. So, to get things flowing, start writing, editing and transforming, and there'll come a time when writing will feel as easy as breathing (an apparently easy thing for those who don't know how it actually works!) 

And to show you that this actually works, here you have a link to a re-telling of Andersen's The Little Mermaid I wrote for my class. Just click on the image! Below the photo you'll find an extract from my story.

"There’s a sailor that piques her interest more than any other one. He’s young, but he doesn’t seem inexperienced. His hands are as calloused as galley slave’s; his skin, as brown and battered as the oldest sea dog’s. His steps are nimble at the bowsprit, and he never loses his smile while working.

She dreams about the feeling of his hands dancing over her scales."

images source: (x) and (x)

A Introduction

Hello. I'm Carmen. To be honest, that's what I can tell you about me today. I'm trying to sort out my life, as I think every twenty-something does, and running this blog will help me keep up on my progress.
I want to have something where I can look back to when I finish my degree, and this blog will work as a sort of diary in which my thoughts, experiences, dreams, fears, hopes and all the things I love will be recorded. 

I'm a stranger to myself. I only know that I'm made up of words and snapshots taking up way too much memory on my camera roll, but not enough memory on my mind. I'm made up of ridiculously sugared tea and more chocolate than I should eat. I'm made up of the people I love and the people I've lost, of the cities I've visited and the ones I'm dying to set my feet on one of these days. I'm made up of fountain pen and watercolor stains that turn my hands into canvases, and of all the sea waves that have ever lulled me to sleep. I'm made up of the movies I've seen and the actors I'm head-over-heels in love with and of all the concerts I've been to. I'm made up of the laughs that had made my belly hurt and of all the tears that have turned my face into a puffy red mess. I'm made up of hours of studying, of the things I learn that will get me to where I want to be and all the inane information that has no use whatsoever, except giving me a chance at Trivial. I'm made up of the little details I remember about others and the things they say to me. I'm made up of sideway looks and sleepy mornings in class and of the smell of grass after a thunderous afternoon. I'm made up of the feel you get when you look at stacked bookshelves and of drives along the sea with rock and roll blasting out of your car radio. 

I'm made up of all those things and others I don't even know about; there are still so many bits of this world I want to make mine, and I intend to photograph, narrate, comment and turn every single one of them into something tangible, something that I'll look at when I'm older and that'll make me think: it was all worth it. I lived. I still have so much to learn, but I've also learned so much along the way. It's worth it, to keep going. Keep going.