I think for me the thing that showed me how to a deeper level of fictional storytelling was when I first watched Gone Girl. Since then I've read the book, and it's fantastic, but I think David Fincher's filmography has influenced and refined my writing the most by far. To my fascination with his style, he has one that is very cold, clear, and to the point but has an unsettling underlayer. He has a great way of hiding information from the viewer that they can see fits in with the parts before the big reveals upon more viewings. I find this to be a much more intriguing way to tell a story rather than have numerous segments of mainly forgetful exposition, which is why I try to incorporate it in my writing as best I can.

I see a word or a phrase. It sparks a thought. I sit down. My fingers type something. I read it.Sometimes I correct mistakes or clumsy sections. I stop!

Like I wrote on here yesterday something called Lost In Space Bar (link below).

I wrote it because I had entered a challenge, or so I thought, but when I published it didn’t connect to the challenge.I didn’t know how to delete so I thoughty if I changed the title and the text I could publish as a stand alone piece and re-enter the challenge. But I had to be quick, as people had already started to ‘like’ it. I was at my keyboard and I just thought “What is there here that I could write about”. There before me was a massive ‘space bar’. Space Bar... double meaning... off we go!

So I did that and re-posted my piece in the challenge.. FFs it didn’t link to the challenge again! So I had to go through the same process. I got a text.

My mind clicked. My fingers wrote.

Out came my Text Subtext piece- I wrote two pieces in about four minutes.

But it wasn’t me.

It was my fingers.

Then today I had a meeting and the other person started to choke a little.

“You ate a biscuit bfore?” I ventured. They confirmed this.

I gave them advice... never eat a biscuit even an hour before you have a meeting or give a presentation. A crumb will always hide in your teeth and jump out to choke you as you get to a key part of your speaking!

It’s true.

While they got a glass of water, I made a note in my phone and wrote “Viscious Biscuit”. That will be on here very soon, I suspect.. a short poem.

That’s how I work.

I guess that’s why I struggle with novels and plays.

I get an idea, but it doesn’t always flesh out to more than a few stanzas.

So that’s it.

Now you know!

https://theprose.com/post/295092/lost-in-space-bar

https://theprose.com/post/295093/the-text-and-subtext

I haven't read too many books to have an inspired author, but I have watched many movies and shows to decide that there things that inspire me and just the randomness of any moment. I worship my notes app half-written stories, and a trillion jotted ideas. I try to keep my writing simple not to complex because I have not learned complexity in writing yet I'm still learning which is fun. And I try to write for both perspectives male and female instead of she said, did, felt, fucked, touched, licked etc idk I try to stick to mundane situations and try my best to incorporate description and interest in them. Still learning that too :) but mundane short stories with half-started conversations or a response to a question to start off a story is my go to.

A roach just crawled across my keyboard on the table in front of me as I began to jot down who I am into my iPhone so that the reader may get to know me. Relevant information, right? Thought so, one who stands for nothing stands for everything. Dealer of BS, also receiver of BS. Grim look on life which makes for interesting poetic viewpoints. Depressed all the time. Lonely, but at this point by choice. Lost faith in my fellow man a long time ago. Women leave much deeper scars, and take with them hearts. Vanish. I have tried, doesn’t really work out like you’d expect whenever you have a purpose. Purpose, writing semi psychotic jumbles of word that will be appreciated when I’m dead. Death, never ending darkness until I find a void to transfer energy back into. Unless, this time I’ve actually accomplished what my destiny has foretold. Love, all the crap I continue to write in the hopes of touching eternity through literary achievement. Sad, for as long as I can remember. Don’t know why. Just always felt like I’d never be whole again. Friends, suck so understand that you have none. Family, suck as well. Never put stock in your family members. They are the only people that have an excuse to screw you over with no remorse. Unforgiving, is love. Falling into, said love, is always the funnest part for me. Being in it. Different story. Trust left this place a long time ago, along with forgiveness. So train wrecks and heart aches, always. Fortunate, to have my peace of mind amidst utter chaos. Chaos called. My life, is balanced madness within a tropical storm that takes many different forms. Excuses, the building blocks to my very existence. Hours, I’ve spent the last 16 on this couch trying to make sense of it all. Rest of my life, what it will take to realize I may never make sense of it all. Apologies, given but not meant. Weak, the people on which my demons prey. Pray, been a long time since I have. Why, have you? Okay then. Faith, in myself. Where else would it be? Inspiration, a creative muse. Pain. Agony. Energy. Desperation. Understanding. Release. Channel. Answers, In the funniest places. People, only use you for what they can. Not capable of higher thought. Self obsessed. Careless. Greedy. Ungrateful. Not worthy. Lost, are all of us who seek purpose. Blessings, take form of something relevant to the situation. Crazy, are the minds that are truly unique. Thought process, this was mine. Clueless, cause I don’t even know who I am..

I try to stay as realistic as possible when I write. I don't like to muddle my points in fantasy, mostly because I tell myself I'd never be able to craft anything highly fantastical that would ever be worth reading. I tend to focus on painful moments in characters lives and build around those. That's why John Green's Looking for Alaska and The Fault in Our Stars are so powerful to me. Yes, I read the latter the night that my high school crush gave it to me, but I cared about the story because it felt as real as my relationship with that friend.

I tend to credit him for getting me to care about writing. After all, I read Looking for Alaska on my way into 10th grade, and in 11th I ws in Honors English because I had proven that I cared enough to do it. That I wanted to succeed. It wasn't until college that I started to write my own stuff, and it wasn't until senior year that I really took it seriously. And I ended up in second place in a short story contest on campus.

I also like to try to conceal any important information as long as possible, in a show vs. tell sort of way. It's much more important to have the reader along for the ride in the sense that they are engaged in the mystery. No good twist is complete without a good reveal, and there's got to be good build-up for that reveal, or the whole story tanks. Unreliable/untrustworthy narrators make that fun.