Author has written 2 stories for Twilight, and Misc. Books.
Cassie/17, that's all you're getting.
I used to write on here once upon a time but that ended when I realized that I can't really write, so all but the two I actually liked have been taken down. My apoligies. I will not be updating anymore.
I want to find my own way of writing, my own style.
I know I haven’t yet. But I am striving to do so.
How shall I put it? It’s very hard to explain.
I want to write in a way that the writing is me – is myself.
I want to write so that what I write and the way I write is me, because of the choice of words and the arrangement of the words, the way I combine them, group them together, orchestrate them. For me, words are music as well as – as much as – they are meanings.
Also, writing is different from talk. When people listen to talk they hear the speaker’s tone of voice. They look at the speaker’s eyes. They observe the movements of the speaker’s face and hands, which helps them to understand what the speaker means. The listener can question and reply and interrupt. The speaker can change her mind and say so, she can stop and start and huff and puff. And all this helps to make the meaning.
But in writing there is no voice to listen to, no eyes to exchange looks, no movements of the face and hands and body to assist the words. No interruptions are possible, no questions can be answered . There are only strange shapes as old as Eve and as new as tomorrow’s baby, and to me they are beautiful and glorious.
I love the appearance of words on a page. I love their shape and the patterns they make. I feel them like pebbles in my mouth, I hear them like music in my head. When I write, they are sculptures in my hand…
There is nothing like words. I want to live with them, I want to live through them, I want to live because of them. I want to live in them. Really in them. And I want to procreate with them. I want to make and remake the world with them.
I have thought about this a lot.
If I have a creed, this is it:
My god is language, written and read,
And there is no other god but this.
from This is All: The Pillow Book of Cordelia Kenn by Aidan Chambers