Story Engineering and Tips for Writing Your Novel with Larry Brooks

ThT

Girls' speech that stopped the leaders of the world for five minutes

The Woman Who Changed Her Brain: Barbara Arrowsmith-Young at TEDxToronto

I sit on the moon-dark side of motherhood

First this is just spun around in my brain and escaped out on "paper". The words and the scene were so odd I decided to post it. I thank God for my children. So it's not them in this doodle. Perhaps it was the newscast if the homeless shelter, the food banks, medicare and nursing homes, a movie about an alcoholic mom, all of that contrasted with the joyful music. Anyway, this is a "brain doodle". Nothing more--oh, and happy holidays!


I Sit on the Moon

I sit on the moon.
It is an arid and dusty place.
I shield my tear-stained face from the dust that billows
Over me, just me on this barren landscape.
I look in three directions, and I see space as far as I can see.

No one describes the space between the moon and
Earth the way it seems now. It is thick like fog and my body feels like it
Should move to the Earth. Yes, pulled to the Earth!

I  stand. I reach for the familiar planet, and I scream the longing is so strong for it.
But I stay firm on the desolate, dry soil of the moon.
I scream for hours, maybe years. I don’t know.
The ache for home never leaves me. My lungs and heart are raw
From the exertion of trying to get someone from home to see I am here.
I collapse against the odd, concrete, dusty soil, and I lay still.
My tears are just streaks on my dusty face. I have moved through
seven-hundred-seventy phases of the light on this side of the moon.
My breaths are still labored and come in gasps the terror has not left me.
If I should look at the Earth the unfathomable distance will drive me mad.
They will come get me has become less of a prayer and more an involuntary movement.
I no longer think about the words because I know no one is coming.
They could if they wanted to, but they don’t.
At home, perhaps they look at me through telescopes and feel superior because they have home.
I can’t get there. I can’t get home. So perhaps they are.
Tried, banished, and blamed by the ones that I thought would always love me.
And judged unfit. Not by the ones of authority, but by the ones that have the
gift.
Many times I heard, before exile to this barren empty place, I gave them life.
It could not be true for there is not greater hatred than this. The wind whips the dust around and stings my skin.
I dig my nails into the unnatural dirt. I won’t look back at the Earth. Home where my children sit.
Telling horror stories of the childhood they lived and the supposed sins against them.
My children are adults who must blame someone for what life had spat their way.
As adults they blame me for their actions and laying here so far from home.
My skin has thinned I’m almost bones.
I will die out here alone.
Banished, terrified and alone. .

Tony Robbins Create a New Story

For Beau Westbrook--I'm not a poet, but then you wouldn't have cared:)

For Beau: You know I'm not a poet; but then you wouldn't have cared *chuckle*. I miss you.


He was Gruff and Grizzly--
A bit hard,
but all that bravado,
was just a facade.
That put a wall up to
Protect a beaten heart , still so raw

Charles ( Beau ) Westbrook
was not like any other guy.
He was sweet and decent.
But mostly on the inside.

The Electric Drill, I could not use,
But Beau taught me how to master it.
Just like a child
Learns to tie it's shoes.

We’re all going to miss you, Beau
(some more than others--of course)
 You liked to sing on the porch and get in a row
With a neighbor just to make the time go

The world is a somber place,
with out you in it
I know you would have stayed,
You worked hard to get fit
I know you’re safe in God’s arms
And for this old life that was a good trade.

So Goodbye--My friend
I know I'll see you again,
But the love you gave me,
though so brief
will take away my tears and grief.

I’ll always think of you fishing at the lake
How much you loved your sons and Elaine
A daughter somewhere and regrets that ached
How much you loved your mother was plain.

A true sailor you stayed
Chasing and loving women with humor
That elusive dollar you chased
But it wasn’t greed-it was to share with a few more
Lost souls to help with the problems they faced.

I wish you shared your love of music and art
I was your “golden-girl” though I didn’t like the name
You loved those chocolate cigars and mason jars
And that you were present for “Bikini Island” acclaim.
Not girls-but for the Nation you loved with all your heart
Thank you for the postcards from your collection
I really loved you Beau, my best friend from the start.

By collaboration:Joeseph Allegra and Gwen Hankins

Tony Robbins - Breakthrough Relationship(1)

Song Lyrics for Writers' Inspiration

This photo is of my husband, Steve. That's me after a long trip-no make up *chuckle*. He was the love of my life-time; our divorce will be final December 17, 2013. What went wrong? Probably a hundred things I'll never understand and will never have that resolution I wish I had within myself to feel solid and strong again.
SO WHAT DOES THIS HAVE TO DO WITH SONG LYRICS? There are probably a hundred song lyrics out "there" and sung by various artists that express what I wrote at the beginning of this post.
The lyricists have three to four minutes to tell a story with a beginning, a middle and an end. Not only that, but they have to catch the listeners' or readers' emotions or the song better have a fantastic melody. *Chuckle*
If you are a writer, or an aspiring author, listen to all types of lyrics (music). Listen to the words-then take a pen or pencil and write the lyrics out (just a "train our brain" exercise-no plagiarism-duh).

Turn the music off.

What words evoke an emotion(s)? Think about the syntax-do the words sound good together? Or are the words jarring to get the listener (readers') attention?
Disect the lyrics.
Remember the lyricist  has to tell a whole story with very few words. Granted, the melody inspires emotion--but the words transform orchestrated music into a strong "artistic piece" they can span decades and have such meaning in a person or couples' life that it is never forgotten (or even a nation).
Calvin Louis and Andrew Wright wrote "When a Man Loves a Woman" (some say Percy Sledge also had a "hand" in the writing of the song). Only Percy Sledge can sing those words and make me feel them. Don't have writers' block--be inspired by very, very short stories-lyrics. Just sayin'--peace!