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Rainstorm5
Tornado Aficionado
Joined: Feb 20, 2008
Posts: 1103
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 Posted: Sat Mar 01, 2008 8:28 pm Post subject: |
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Well, best of luck to you on your story. Let me know how it goes 
Interesting that you mention Wicca, as I was into it several years back. No longer, though. Like many other religions I've tried, it didn't work for me. (Well, I suppose the clothing did - they all favor the color black, which I wear most of the time, anyway).
Best wishes,
jillian
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Zonder
Phoenix
Joined: Feb 23, 2008
Age: 44
Posts: 794
Location: Great Lakes
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| Posted: Mon Mar 03, 2008 10:39 am Post subject: |
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Hello fellow writers!
I don't know if this is REALLY the place to post something that I'm working on because it isn't fiction. I don't seem to have a talent for creating stories, so I decided to write a memoir. Yup, another autism spectrum memoir. This is the beginning of my introduction. Thanks to all who want to take a look!
Z
I was forty and it was a beautiful summer. A Saturday. The bridge next to my house was being demolished, and the rural highway in front of our property was closed. I couldn’t have been more content. There was no traffic and no noise except the xxxxxxx River flowing over a stony bed, and I was alone and indulging myself in an activity I have enjoyed since I was a child – digging in the dirt.
A pipe had been cut during demolition of the bridge and road surface, and from somewhere underground a stream of water flowed. It was somewhat more than a trickle. Using dirt and gravel, with a stick and my hands I constructed lakes, streams, dams, and cascades. I repeatedly built and breached tiny earthworks behind which I had let water collect, so I could watch the force of nature erode the riverbanks and then slow and disperse on a flat delta. The flowing water was soothing. I lost myself in this manifestation of gravity and the feel, motion, and the sound of one of my almost-forgotten childhood fascinations. I longed to reenter that time in my life, before I started school, before I became anxious, before I had to learn to relate to people. I longed to be free of the emotional uncertainty I remember experiencing since I entered kindergarten.
For about a month that summer, every weekend, I climbed around the construction site, trying to recapture the peaceful place in the back of my mind that I had found when I discovered the water stream flowing through the debris. Only a few times did I worry that some neighbor or passerby might see me and question my behavior. My mother watched me out of the kitchen window and wondered. After the second weekend she couldn’t contain herself any longer and exclaimed to me, “I don’t know what to think. A grown man digging in the dirt, like you were a little kid again!”
I often still feel like a child, particularly in my relationships. Into my early forties I’d never had a romantic relationship that lasted for more than a couple of months, and the idea of having a family was overwhelming. Having a family and simultaneously developing a career was out of the question because I felt that I didn’t have the emotional capacity for both. It was either one or the other, and I chose to focus on my career. Additionally, since grade school I had thought to myself that I didn’t want to have children because I didn’t want them to suffer through life the way that I have . . . . |
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Zmason
Hummingbird
Joined: Feb 20, 2008
Posts: 20
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| Posted: Mon Mar 03, 2008 3:06 pm Post subject: |
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Jullian
I read your post on how you've taped a monolouge for your funeral. I know how you must feel. At one time, I spent my writing career sharpening suicide notes. But recently, there is one saying that I think best fits my situation, and I hope it does for yours too.
Often the test of courage is not to die, but to live.
Vittorio Lafteri
Zach |
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Rainstorm5
Tornado Aficionado
Joined: Feb 20, 2008
Posts: 1103
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| Posted: Mon Mar 03, 2008 9:24 pm Post subject: |
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| Zmason wrote: | Jullian
I read your post on how you've taped a monolouge for your funeral. I know how you must feel. At one time, I spent my writing career sharpening suicide notes. But recently, there is one saying that I think best fits my situation, and I hope it does for yours too.
Often the test of courage is not to die, but to live.
Vittorio Lafteri
Zach |
Very good quote. In my posting that you refer to, I wasn't referring to my suicide. Though I've attempted it in the past, I'm done with that. Thank you for expressing your thoughts I have far too many stories to write and I actually have purpose in my life now, so I'm not going anywhere until it's my time to leave this earth, however that may be. I have my 'blue days' and yesterday was one of them. I've weathered them before and I'll continue to do so.
PS - I recorded the DVD because there are certain people in my life that I never had the courage to face, and I know they'd show up at my funeral once I finally passed away from whatever finally takes me. The message would be for them, personally. I agree with you and Vittorio Lafteri - it takes far more courage to live. My grandfather had a saying too - What doesn't kill you only makes you stronger. I'm sure he got that from someone more famous, but I always remember my grandfather saying it. My father had a good one, too:
If you aren't happy, get happy.
Best Wishes,
jillian
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Rainstorm5
Tornado Aficionado
Joined: Feb 20, 2008
Posts: 1103
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| Posted: Mon Mar 03, 2008 9:35 pm Post subject: |
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| Zonder wrote: | Hello fellow writers!
I was forty and it was a beautiful summer. A Saturday. The bridge next to my house was being demolished, and the rural highway in front of our property was closed. I couldn’t have been more content. There was no traffic and no noise except the xxxxxxx River flowing over a stony bed, and I was alone and indulging myself in an activity I have enjoyed since I was a child – digging in the dirt. |
Very nice opening paragraph. You paint an interesting picture here.
| Quote: | | Using dirt and gravel, with a stick and my hands I constructed lakes, streams, dams, and cascades. I repeatedly built and breached tiny earthworks behind which I had let water collect, so I could watch the force of nature erode the riverbanks and then slow and disperse on a flat delta. The flowing water was soothing. I lost myself in this manifestation of gravity and the feel, motion, and the sound of one of my almost-forgotten childhood fascinations. I longed to reenter that time in my life, before I started school, before I became anxious, before I had to learn to relate to people. I longed to be free of the emotional uncertainty I remember experiencing since I entered kindergarten. |
Beautiful description here - nicely done
| Quote: | | I often still feel like a child, particularly in my relationships. Into my early forties I’d never had a romantic relationship that lasted for more than a couple of months, and the idea of having a family was overwhelming. Having a family and simultaneously developing a career was out of the question because I felt that I didn’t have the emotional capacity for both. It was either one or the other, and I chose to focus on my career. Additionally, since grade school I had thought to myself that I didn’t want to have children because I didn’t want them to suffer through life the way that I have . . . . |
Again, this is well done. A suggestion might be to enhance the above paragraph with a continuation of your 'digging in dirt' imagery in a metaphorical sense. For example, in the description of your relationship troubles, maybe liken them to building your dams and waterways, only the forces of nature inevitably tear them (the dams/your relationships) apart almost as quickly.
Just a thought.
Good writing, thanks for posting it!
Best wishes,
Jillian
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Terminal Outsider, rogue graphic designer & lunatic fringe. |
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Zonder
Phoenix
Joined: Feb 23, 2008
Age: 44
Posts: 794
Location: Great Lakes
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| Posted: Tue Mar 04, 2008 1:49 pm Post subject: |
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Hello Jillian:
Thanks for the great comments! You totally caught me. I have had three different concepts for this opening, and the digging concept came to me last weekend. The fourth paragraph was written some time ago and it hadn't occurred to me to integrate the imagery into the rest of the intro.
Here is a tightened up version, with a couple of additions including what you suggested.
Thank you again!
Zonder
Introduction
Digging in the Dirt
I was forty and it was a beautiful summer. A Saturday. The bridge next to my house was being demolished, and the rural highway in front of our property was closed. I was supremely content. There was no traffic and no noise except the xxxxxx River flowing over a stony bed. The swallows that normally live under the bridge were gone. I was alone and indulging myself in an activity I have enjoyed since I was a child – digging in the dirt.
A pipe had been cut during demolition of the bridge and road surface, and from somewhere underground a stream of water flowed. It was somewhat more than a trickle. Using dirt and gravel, with a stick and my hands, I constructed lakes, streams, dams, and cascades. I repeatedly built and breached tiny earthworks behind which I had let water collect, so I could watch the force of nature erode the riverbanks and then slow and disperse on a flat delta. The flowing water was soothing. The sound of pebbles tumbling in the stream was exquisite and musical to my ears. I lost myself in this manifestation of gravity and the feel, motion, and sound of an almost-forgotten childhood fascination. I longed to reenter that time in my life, before I started school, before I consistently became anxious, before I had to learn to relate to people. I longed to be free of the emotional uncertainty I remember experiencing since I entered kindergarten.
For about a month that summer, every weekend, I climbed through the construction site, trying to recapture the peaceful place in the back of my mind I had found when I discovered the water stream flowing through the debris. Only a few times did I worry that some neighbor or passerby might see me and question my behavior. My mother watched me out of the kitchen window and wondered. After the second weekend she couldn’t contain herself any longer and exclaimed to me, “I don’t know what to think. A grown man digging in the dirt, like you were a little kid again!”
*****
Lately I have been digging through the detritus stored in my mind and taking stock of the course of my life. At times I still feel like a child with an earthwork barrier between others and me. Into my early forties I’d never had a romantic relationship that lasted for more than a couple of months, and the idea of having a family was overwhelming. A family and a career were out of the question because I felt I didn’t have the emotional capacity for both. I chose the career. And since grade school I’d taken comfort in the thought that I wouldn’t want children of mine to suffer through life as I have. . . |
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Rainstorm5
Tornado Aficionado
Joined: Feb 20, 2008
Posts: 1103
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| Posted: Wed Mar 05, 2008 9:33 pm Post subject: |
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I think the rewrite, above, is terrific. The narrative is excellent in that it flows nicely and blends especially well with your running metaphor referencing the obsession with digging, which is hinted at nicely in the final paragraph of the post. I hope you keep on with this memoir, it is an interesting read and I find your unique perspective and writing style fascinating.
Best wishes & do keep writing,
Jillian
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Terminal Outsider, rogue graphic designer & lunatic fringe. |
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Zmason
Hummingbird
Joined: Feb 20, 2008
Posts: 20
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| Posted: Sat Mar 08, 2008 6:34 pm Post subject: |
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I'm not sure if this is the right style to apply to a Jane Austen novel, so I am giving some people a sneak peak at the first three, tenative pages as they stand. It may be totally off the mark, I'm not sure. The curse of being an asperger's writer I suppose.
Thanks for your time.
My Dearest Jane
I feel I have been neglecting you in writing. It seemed only yesterday since we both were wed, and its actually been six months. Mr. Darcy has introduced me to almost every member of royalty in England except the King’s court himself. They are all glad to see Mr. Darcy wed, and most say they have never heard such a beautiful voice as mine. I dare say that I have impressed most of them.
How are you doing? I know with all the balls around Neverfield it must be hard for you to find time within your own head. I hear Mr. Bingly has been twice as gracious in his celebrations of marriage as Mr. Darcy has. But, on the other hand, I have met some of the greatest legends of our time. It truly has been a great honor having Mr. Darcy as my husband. And I have yet to be denied anything I needed or wanted. Georgiana takes most of the time on the piano, so he bought another one, just so I could practice. And the books! Oh I could never treasure such a library as his as much as it should…
“Writing to your eldest sister?” Mr. Darcy said, coming in to the drawing room.
“Yes. We are most dreadfully sad when we are apart.”
“Then I shall not keep you from your writing. Give my regards to her and Mr. Bingly.”
“But of course.”
As Mr. Darcy walked out of the drawing room, Elizabeth noticed a post in his hand. She recognized the scrawl of Lady Catherine de Burg, and her seal, almost instantly. She continued writing.
It has been strange, however, that with all of the family and acquaintances we have seen, Lady Catherine de Burg has not been among them. Yet, Mr. Darcy receives a post from her nearly every day. I do hope she is not nagging him on marrying me. But, he is of strong character, and will no doubt sever all connection to her if necessary.
Oh, have I told you. I’ am learning to ride a horse. It is the next best thing to actual walking. I truly am enjoying it. Of course, I have not ridden at anything less than a mild trot since starting. But, its is so invigorating, it helps with health you know. I have never felt more alive than I do now.
Please write back, and give Mr. Bingly my dearest wishes, as Mr. Darcy gives his to you.
Love
Elizabeth
She put it in the post pile to be sent out the next day, then wandered down the main gallery to the music room. As usual, Georgiana was playing. It had the overtones of a happy melody, but Elizabeth could tell she was having difficulty with this new piece. She had her eyebrows in a frown she was so concerned.
“Easy Georgiana. I know you will find the musical talent to play it soon enough, probably better than I could.”
“It is the third arpeggio of the second movement that I have problems with. It requires such fast fingers, at such differing octaves.”
“I was just about to go out for a walk in the garden. Would you care to join me?”
“I dare say I have spent most of the day at this piano. It would be a welcome diversion.”
The two found capes for their heads and necks, and soon were walking through the lush greenery and flowers of Pemberly estate. A gardener was pruning the shrubs that surrounded the garden.
“Fine day today.” Elizabeth called out to the gardener.
“Yes, shan’t find many more like them before the fall.”
“I certainly hope my skin isn’t getting too tan.”
“Oh, I think its perfect.”
“Not as bright as yours.”
“That’s from years of being inside. But I find the more your out of the sun, the less tolerant you are of it.”
“That may be true, but what is there for a woman of grace to do outside.”
“How about a game of croquet?”
“Why not? We have a few hours before dinnertime.”
The game was quite the art for Elizabeth, never having been accustomed to anything but horseshoes. Georgiana always won, but she never took it as heavily as some people would.
“I just got lucky, that’s all. You kept with me the entire game.”
“I wish I could think of myself as gracefully and charming like you are.”
“I see what my brother sees in you. A sense of responsibility, and a rare breath of fresh air into the dullness of gentry life.”
A bell was rung from the entryway into the garden.
“Is it time for tea already?”
“I dare say it is. Come, the servants can put away the wickets.”
Elizabeth had been inclined to do it herself, but she forgot, there were servants to pick up after her, a facet of nobility life she was just getting accustomed to.
Darcy joined them for tea.
“My dear Elizabeth, I have good news. Mr. Bingly must have been reading your thoughts, because he just said his wife is getting lonely too. I’ve invited them over for dinner tomorrow night, and I think you will be in for a surprise.”
“With so many things surprising me, I doubt anything will be a surprise soon.”
“Oh, but this one can be quite shocking, no matter what the situation.”
“You seem very mysterious about it. What is so secret?”
“I figured you would rather your eldest sister told you.”
“It must be personal.”
“That it is, indeed.”
“What type of tea do we have today?”
“Spiced tea, with a hint of jasmine.”
“Oh how delightful! My darling, you do treat us with the greatest confection.”
“Thank you, but it was the servant’s idea today for what type of tea should be served.”
“You do have delightful servants here.”
“Comes from years of never hearing a cross word. Thank you.”
“Will you be needing anything else?” The servant added.
“No, that will be all.”
The preparations for the next nights dinner were extravagant, even compared to the recent balls. Much of the wild game was hunted down by Mr. Darcy himself. Several pheasants dressed the long dinning table, as did potatoes, and every other good thing. Darcy had, on his request, allowed the women and men to be received separately. Jane was a welcome sight to see, especially after six months of her absence from Elizabeth’s life. But, Mr. Darcy had been right, there was some special news to be had. And it was so kind of Darcy to let Elizabeth find out from Jane herself.
“Your pregnant! Congratulations!” Elizabeth said in a croak of a whisper, throwing her arms around her sister.
“We just found out a few days ago. It should come some time in March.”
“Is it a boy or a girl?”
“I don’t know. I do hope it is a boy. Mr. Bingly would be tickled pink to hear that it was.”
The gentlemen and the ladies came together at the dinner table.
In case you are not familiar with the characters, Jane is the eldest daughter of the Benets, Elizabeth the next eldest, both were close in pride and prejudice. Mr. Darcy is Elizabeth's husband, Mr. Bingly is Jane's. This begins six months after the marriages of both Elizabeth and Jane. I post it because something does seem to be missing. What? |
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Rainstorm5
Tornado Aficionado
Joined: Feb 20, 2008
Posts: 1103
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| Posted: Sun Mar 09, 2008 3:27 pm Post subject: |
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Written very well. The only thing that feels 'missing' to me is a little bit of tension between the characters, or prehaps a hint of tension to come. The dialogue, though extremely well done, seemed a little too bright and cheery. Granted, this is probably because I don't have the entire story in front of me to read, so I'm assuming that the tension between characters comes either in an earlier or later chapter. Only a little touch of tension might be needed in the dialogue or narrative, nothing drastic.
best wishes,
jillian
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Terminal Outsider, rogue graphic designer & lunatic fringe. |
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Zmason
Hummingbird
Joined: Feb 20, 2008
Posts: 20
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| Posted: Fri Mar 14, 2008 7:34 pm Post subject: |
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I am proud to anounce the completion of the second book in the Adventures of Abigail Whipple series, Under the Cloak of Darkness. Its only 187 pages long, so I'm not sure its a novel, even with the first one being 235 pages long. The second book has slightly more than 46 thousand words. I think I've fiddled with it all I'm going to, there's not much I'm not happy with in this second book. The third one is going to be a really technical one, by standards of the other two books. It will involve a lot of megalithic mathematics and some self written Arthurian legend. She'll be traveling all over Britain in the third book, all ending in Glastonbury. But, I digress.
Zach |
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slowmutant
Phoenix
Joined: Feb 14, 2008
Age: 29
Posts: 8882
Location: Ontario, Canada
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| Posted: Thu Apr 03, 2008 3:44 pm Post subject: Re: Aspie authors writing social interaction |
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| hyperbolic wrote: | I have written some science fiction stories before, ranging from short stories to attempts at a novel. Once, I left a couple of my stories on a table in my dorm commons room to see if anyone would say something to me about them. No one did respond, so I can either believe no one read them or believe that they were terrible and those who may have read them didn't want to tell me that. Though school, work, and even my hours spent daily on WP have deterred me from starting any new writings of purely self-interest (except for one, a fictional treatise on the history of an mid-Atlantic island nation), I have considered that in the future, after I finish my computer science Bachelor's degree, I might write science fiction as a career. I would want to "test the waters" before jumping into science fiction writing, of course. One of my concerns about going into writing as a career, that is, with the intent to make money off of stories that are popular, is the fact that in most cases individuals with Asperger's Syndrome have difficulty in social interaction and, although it is by no means a requirement of social interaction that there be social interaction between or among any of the human characters, in much of the popular fiction today by such authors as John Gresham, David Brown, Nora Roberts, Stephen King, especially, and etc., it does play a very important role.
A question I have for you all is do you think that someone with Asperger's Syndrome can become a successful author even with his difficulties in social interaction, which may be reflected in his writing, especially in the dialogue?
Another question: Does anyone know of any successful writers who have or have been suspected to have Asperger's Syndrome?
EDIT: clarity |
Bill Gates has defied all odds to become a mind-boggling success. If you're worth more than the Vatican, social skills don't mean squat. If I had Gates' money, for God's sake I'd get Lasik therapy and lose the damned glasses! (No disrespect, Mr. Gates.) |
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slowmutant
Phoenix
Joined: Feb 14, 2008
Age: 29
Posts: 8882
Location: Ontario, Canada
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| Posted: Thu Apr 03, 2008 3:48 pm Post subject: |
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| Claradoon wrote: | Jane Austen
Emily Dickinson
George Bernard Shaw
Henry Thoreau
Mark Twain
Isaac Asimov
Garrison Keillor
Wanna form a writing group? |
I'll join your group, sir, but I'm afraid the people on your list are all dead. 
(Seriously, count me in.) |
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Warsie
OG Balla Representin' Da Souf Sydeeee of Chi-City
Joined: Apr 04, 2008
Age: 18
Posts: 1676
Location: Chicago, IL, USA
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| Posted: Sat Apr 05, 2008 9:13 pm Post subject: |
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yes you can. I am working on a story and a story of it is politics arguments.
Though it may suck. I might simply have someone else do and work on the conversation parts/improve it.
I can do good narration however.
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prouddad
Emu Egg
Joined: Apr 07, 2008
Posts: 4
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| Posted: Thu Apr 17, 2008 10:00 pm Post subject: Annie Books |
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| Annie Books is a series written by an author and illustrator with Asperger's and they were just awarded with a Mom's Choice Award Gold Series. Pretty cool. |
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slowmutant
Phoenix
Joined: Feb 14, 2008
Age: 29
Posts: 8882
Location: Ontario, Canada
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| Posted: Thu Apr 17, 2008 10:27 pm Post subject: Anyone need a consultant? |
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| Who has a current writing-project and needs someone to bounce ideas off of? I am ready to hear about anybody's ideas, anytime. As it happens, I have more than a few ideas stored away on my computer hard drive and the central processor between my ears. |
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