The Power of Influence

I was browsing my archives and thought it was interesting that I came upon this post I wrote on the same day it was published two years ago, August 10, 2015.  I don’t believe in coincidences so I am re-posting this for whoever needs to read it. It is, after all, Throwback Thursday.


What if I told you that inventions were built on your smile? If I told you, that babies were made from your good morning? That because of you someone glided their way home today. Kissed sunshine into the arms of a loved one or sat down to give birth to their first poem. Trembling and afraid, they are virgin to this moment. Nothing to warn them of the Sanchez in their blood or the Maya on their skin but here they are because you loved them. What if I told you that inside the creases of your armpits were hugs that wrote masterpieces, which sang platinum albums, and wiped away tears as easily and as gently as music? What if I told you that your words are music? That someone somewhere is listening to you strum their pain with your fingers. That with your words alone you Lauryn Hill them back to Zion. Never underestimate the hope you unknowingly gift to others, like slow songs that mean nothing until you are desperate enough to listen to the words.

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Writer’s Quote Wednesday – George Orwell

For today’s segment of Writer’s Quote Wednesday, I take inspiration from George Orwell:

 

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“When I sit down to write a book, I do not say to myself, ‘I am going to produce a work of art.’ I write it because there is some lie that I want to expose, some fact to which I want to draw attention (to)….” —George Orwell

I think this is a great way to sit down and write a book or article or poem. If you think more about your purpose for this particular piece, or you engage and have fun with the writing process in general, then I think you will unintentionally create something unique. Because you’ve put your all into it, you have the potential to create something really beautiful and powerful for readers. I do not believe the best songs were built under the notion that they will become hits, they were just written from the heart and that’s what makes them great. Anyone can write a book, poem, or sing a song, but when you can feel the passion, really feel it, and you know that it’s truly coming from the heart, that’s what makes it art.

About The Author:

I was first introduced to Orwell about seven or eight years ago when I read his book, 1984. I wouldn’t say he’s my favorite author but I did enjoy the book. At a time where I was just coming into a proper understanding of both myself and the world around me, it was an enlightening read.

Orwell was born June 25, 1903 in Bengal, India. His birth name was Eric Arthur Blair in Motihari, and he was a novelist, essayist and critic who went on to become best known for his novels Animal Farm and Nineteen Eighty-Four. Speaking of Nineteen Eighty-Four, the title sounds like a throwback to us, like something old but for Orwell it was the future. He wrote 1984 back in 1949. In short, it is a look into the future of the world which is divided into three nations. In the story, Orwell gives us a look into what would happen if the Government controlled every aspect of a person’s life, all the way down to his private thoughts. It was the first time, before Minority Report (the movie), that I had ever heard of something called thought crime.

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And that’s it for my portion of Writer’s Quote Wednesday. As always, don’t forget to check out the links or the pic to see how you can join the fun. Don’t forget to also Like or Comment on the post of other participants. You get support by giving it :).

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Dear Writers, A Quote Worth Remembering

“By writing and publishing your book, you have the potential to touch many readers. The possibilities are endless of how your story can positively affect others, whether it’s an entire town or just one person. It’s through stories that we connect to others. So keep writing, you never know how your message could change someone’s life.” – Nicola Gibbs

www.theliterarykorner.com
http://www.theliterarykorner.com

Excitement

unnamedThis picture is so me right now! The excitement of writing a book. The point where you can think of nothing else but it. Way before the technicalities, the editing, the book cover design, formatting, marketing, promotion and all of the important stuff you will eventually get to. But not now. Now is the most important time, the moment of taking this energy by the reins and using it fully. Don’t wait until the thrill is gone and floating somewhere in outer space, do it now. Yes, now, write. Always write when you feel the urge to, it means something powerful is about to emerge. So it is at this moment that I fill my heart with the excitement of finishing the sequel to Stella, a short story that is not yet available even though the continuation is in my head yearning to jump from my frontal lobe and onto the page. I can hardly keep still these days, my mind too cluttered by the chit chatter of people in my head. The not yet visible personalities of characters hoping to acquire personalities before the next stage of their existence. Even though many of them are miserable because I do after all control their world. It is for me to speak their flesh into existence and fill their mind with lives they have never lived. To give them careers they have only dreamed of. But I will not leave them desolate. Instead I breathe intellect into the nostrils of characters so that they are not merely walking stick men, but they are people too. They live in places made of brick and mortar, smell the scent of cheese pizza while walking down a Chicago street, and intersect their toes into the Mississippi dirt. Their experiences then are not make-believe; their choices have actually been made before in some distant biography of people I do not know. And their faces are inscribed from my memory bank. I’ve seen this nose before and that attitude is as close as a High School friend. These people do not know it yet, but their shoes are lined with the imprint of humanity already. If I could, I may just foresee the manifestation of their existence in a mother, in a stranger, or some place outside of my world. Have my pen to cough up people with British accents and women who speak with a Somali tongue. Who knows, I may find them on television, catch them waiting for the bus, or greet the main character in the check-out line of the grocery store.