Posts tagged ‘flash fiction’

2016, April 8

Where do You Find Inspiration?

Large-Blue-RGB-National-Poetry-Month-LogoToday is the second stop on the Savvy Verse & Wit National Poetry Month Blog Tour.

My writer friend, Judy Clement Wall, shared the first post of the “Coffee Shop Moments” series back in 2013. She often writes in coffee shops, and she defined this as a way for her to combine writing with her (then) new-found passion of doodling, practice her hand lettering, experiment with some different doodling techniques and tools, and justify the time she spends shamelessly eavesdropping on people in coffee shops.

Since then, she is not a newcomer in illustrating anymore, as you can see from her Meet-the-artist video for HCI Books’s Inkspirations launch.
Hope you drop by and read her thoughts, and given they have inspired me a lot, I am sure they are bound to do the same for you.

NPMBlogTour2016From pen, to paper, to screen…

Personally, I don’t write in coffee shops – that would be way too loud, or at least busy, for me. However, for “inventory” purposes, so far I have written both poems and flash fiction:
in quiet spots while traveling, on a flat’s rooftop, as part of long walks in the park, on a walk with a friend where both of us got our notebooks out and started writing away after a nice long talk, and in various spots in my home that I’ve called my writing spaces.

In these same places I also found and continue to find inspiration. Ideas for theme, setting, and characters come from there. To elaborate on that, I’ll name only a few.

One of my favorite poems, “That Moment”, was written three months after a particularly amazing first date.
Silence prompted writing “Some Silences”, which I still think holds so much truth in just a few sentences. “Heart on the beach” came to life during a walk on one of the sandy beaches of Sicily.
One of my most emotion-filled poems still is “The slowest dance”, bringing up memories of a time long gone every time I read it. While the haiku “Stillness” was inspired by as little as the natural artsy light/shadows effect coming through our, at that time, new window after closing the curtains for the first time.

I wrote “Overwriting Memories”, one night after looking through the pictures of my trip, for a future travel article about Paris. In one of the photos I noticed a couple in the Eiffel Tower whom I inadvertently captured. Prompted by this, the flash fiction piece basically wrote itself.
“Sleeping Beauty of Palermo” came to life a couple of days after arriving home from my trip to Sicily. It is true to this day, that ever since my friends and I visited the Capuchin catacombs of Palermo in Sicily, the memory of it is still one which stands out to all of us, one that left us tongue tied for the rest of that day. The face of Rosalia Lombardo is etched into my memory, still keeping me speechless, yet I was compelled to act on my thoughts, to write a story around what I have seen.
“Predictable” is one of my favorite flashes inspired by my cat, Onyx, and says something about this writer life, about how inspiration comes to me.

As I write this article, I am sitting on a bench overlooking the lake in Central Park here in Cluj-Napoca. It’s past seven in the evening, the sun is setting, and the heat turned into a nice breeze. To my left, a middle aged woman leans back reading “The Little Prince”.
If asked about it, I imagine she would reply: “All my books are children’s books. After all, what is the difference between children and adults, and books written for one or the other? I was drawn in by a title, a first sentence, by a memory of school vacations from a long time ago, a quote I’ve known by heart for years and which I have rediscovered again while reading today.”

These thoughts might turn into a poem, or a flash fiction piece sometime in the future. Or they might only remain here as proof of how this writer’s mind works when out and about. Any and all of the above are welcome.

Now I am wondering about You. Please share in the comments below: where do You find inspiration?

How is your National Poetry Month going? Read anything you think I’d like? Do share!

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2014, January 10

If only he had knocked first – by Estrella Azul

IMG_8910-2What is it about ruins that draws photographers in, and continues to fascinate them?

He attributed it to the role ruins play as his “brooding unconscious.” He believed ruins to embody a kind of guilt over civilization’s unchecked progress. He never believed these images to be sensationalistic and nothing more.

There doesn’t seem to be any lack of photographers today willing to tackle the subject, he knew that.
His photos provided a valuable glimpse of the other world that exists on the flip side of mega malls and suburban sprawl. He lived by the old code – “take nothing but photographs, leave nothing but footprints” – and had a deep appreciation for the places he investigated.

For him, the best way of engaging with the past was by observing it through the prism of the present.

His present, he thought in hindsight, wouldn’t have ended as abruptly – if only he had knocked first.

2013, December 27

Right there, waiting – by Estrella Azul

It was an unexpected question.
Her cheeks turned red. But not just from the cold as she tore open his letter standing next to her mailbox on the chilly December evening.

Once inside, she snuggled up with her self-assigned cup of cozy in hand – s’mores hot chocolate – and pulled a pillow onto her lap to steady the notebook on.
Her gaze seemed absent as her handmade notebook cover adorned with hundreds of multicolored beads reflected the bright white twinkling lights of the Christmas tree next to the couch.

She stared into distant memories of a moment long lost ten years ago.
Even when both hearts are ready, if one fails to recognize the magic of that moment, it will pass. She had learned that by now.

Squeezing her pen, she began to write the words in her best cursive.
It wasn’t easy. She kept seeing his face. It showed up when she wrote the date in the left hand corner. It appeared when she wrote the title of her new flash fiction piece on the right side.

Everything would be alright soon, she told herself. Four more weeks until she would see him again – not an imagined face that time.

She would be right there, waiting.

2013, September 6

Perilous – by Estrella Azul

 

It ended on a mournful note.

IMG_9720-1

 

—————

Afterword

Last night, a friend sent me the link to these photographs of abandoned places. They are exceptional! Looking at them (right before bed) stirred something in me.

I woke up with the above six words floating away from me. Before dissipating, I groggily took my phone and typed them into a “memo”. A week earlier I had shot the perfect image to go along with them.

Thank you for reading, and I hope you enjoyed my six word flash fiction!

 

PS: feel free to check out my first six word story as well.

2013, May 28

How often…? – by Estrella Azul

A couple crosses the street. Hand in hand, they ignore stop signs and slalom through cars, laughing. Reaching the bus stop where I am waiting, they kiss.
Everyone in the station is watching them.

She, looks at her boyfriend with a kind of adoration one only sees in movies. She radiates happiness.
He, reciprocates. They don’t stop smiling and talking.

As the bus rolls to a stop, they follow me behind my seat.
I make myself comfortable for the long commute, and gaze out the window – listening.

It has been four years to the day since the accident, I overhear. Details aren’t shared; they seem unimportant to the conversation and the silence following his words makes it clear she knows them. I can almost hear them exchange a look, then talk about something else.
Small things, of family and friends, places they like and wish to visit. They want to find out everything there is about one another. They are clearly at the beginning stage of their relationship. Infatuated with each other.

A few stops later, they walk to the door.
As they get off the bus, people stare at him.

His sunglasses keep his eyes from showing, but I can imagine them.
Despite all the wonderful moments I have overheard, they hide a sadness, a question.
The long scars stretching all over his face, the ones that start at his nape and continue down his back, the ones that cover the length of his arms – they do the asking.

And I can’t help but wonder myself – how often does he start relationships, how often does he experience only the infatuation and understanding stage of them in this world where nothing is perfect and looks seem to account for everything?

 ffdo-bloghop

*** With the above piece of flash fiction I’m participating in Friday Flash Dot Org’s Fourth Anniversary Blog Hop, running thru the end of the month.
Go read the announcement post, and write a flash or comment on one of the entries for a chance to win a prize!

2012, December 28

On what should have been… – by Estrella Azul

His breath pungent with alcohol, his face drained and resembling someone’s — that someone whom I see before my mind’s eye is long gone. This man’s face is abound with already dried up blood. Frightened, I can’t help but walk away as he mumbles out to me and I throw back a “The bus will come in a few minutes” to him. Leaving him behind, all I can think of and hope is that he has somewhere and someone to go home to. On Christmas Eve. The evening which should’ve, for both of us, been one of the most wonderful times of the year.

2012, June 22

On paper – by Estrella Azul

I saw how happy they were with each other, even though on paper it wouldn’t seem that way.

She was an artist with a true Pollyanesque heart, he was a realistic, straightforward guy. He liked classical music, it made her ears bleed. She was an introvert wishing nothing more than to stay at home with a good book, he was a complete extrovert always up for going out, partying with friends.

Yet… they worked. Wonderfully.

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