Why Authors Are Like Serial Killers…

I know; it’s a bit confusing to try and create a mash-up from two seemingly different careers… Did I just say career’s?!! Scratch that your Honor… Back to our point. I’d like to mention the strange traits that both specimens share; where weird theories and thoughts came to me as I torture my characters and sometimes even myself.

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First: They both believe they’re artists.
They want to be recognized, and knowing that there are other writers and serial killers out there, they try to have their own… let’s call it… calling cards. A writer is as unique as his writing style, and it can be influenced through their experiences.. like the saying goes.. If you want to be a great writer, you have to have a bad childhood.
Second: Plotting all the time.
You see us gazing away in the distance, not aware of our surroundings. We sometime act out what we want to do. A rehearsal for every scene you cannot picture with just your imagination. Portraying a man in prison for a year can be done by sitting alone in a room without the usual daily objects to comfort us. A serial killer would, for example, do a test for his calling card poison on… let’s say spiders… I don’t know anyone who would object testing on those… everyone hates spiders.
Third: They usually have seemingly normal jobs.
For example, and in my case, I’m a dentist… The person who is smiling all the time, trying to create a comfortable environment in the clinic, creating the so called Hollywood smile and relieve people from their pain. But… every day… every darn day… teeth… teeth every where… decay… it’s affecting me… Oh no it’s that one patient.. “So why didn’t you come back after I removed your root canal? I told you it is important.” Dentist me said.
“I thought once the pain is gone then that’s it” He says.
“But.. But..”
“So what will you do doctor” He interrupts like he always does.
“… Well… We’re gonna have to pull it out”
“And when will it grow back”
“Grow back??” asked me.
“GROW BACK?!!”
… And that’s when I blacked out your honor.
Fourth: Deep down… we want to be caught.
You put your heart out into planning the perfect plot… and no one will ever know about it… if a tree falls down in the forest and no one was there, will it make a sound?  Subconsciously they want some recognition of their intellect. Imagine you have the perfect idea and no one will ever know about it… you have it right in front of you.. in an A4 printed first manuscript, or in a column in the first page of the news paper… not having credit of your work can be the worst result a serial killer and a writer could have. Which is why they won’t stop until their words reach out to everyone.
Fifth: Upgrading their techniques and methods.
A serial killer will start planning and mapping the place. Little by little he/she will do her/his research, and maybe find an abandoned place for their victims… something to make their Modus Operandi  unique. So is the writer who wants his stories to be told in a different way. Words can be one way to describe your tales, but there are other mediums for storytelling. And come this Friday, you will see my new upgraded method to know what the last point exactly means.
So there you have it. Now the lesson you should learn is; never upset an author… he can always fictionalize you into his victim in his upcoming children’s play 🙂
Till next time, WordPressers.
~ A. H. Amin

Analyzing My Final Cut…

Dear WordPressers (That’s how I’ll be referring to you all from now on),
I have been known to blog and write a lot of inspiring, fun, and funny posts, with a side of announcements from time to time. But At the end of the last year and this year (Which is approaching to its end apparently) I have been absent from the blog scene. I showed myself from time to time just to remind the digital world and their wordpressers inhabitants that I am still alive, well, and kicking a bit higher than the average kicker; not just because I have a black belt in taekwondo, but also because my excitement threshold is off the roof.
I am a story teller, and until now, I used books.. two to be exact so far.. to conjure the spirit of my writing; which keeps growing and growing with time. And throughout the time where I appeared as I was slacking off, I was in fact busy; for my writing beast isn’t just growing anymore, it kind of mutated. I came to a vision that I wanted to share with the world; an idea I wanted to weave but I couldn’t find a tailor for it. So what choice did I have? The beast was growing inside and the idea needs to be conjured… So ‘I’ became the tailor.
I want to present a different nature of storytelling. I’m not sure how many people have came across great writers who write their stories on their blogs, chapter after chapter posted in tandem to each other. What I am planning to create is an animated novel, one chapter at a time, one episode at a time. A series where I can use more than one vessel for my talents, in music, story, sound effect, illustration and directing. I was planning to make all the voices using Adobe Audition to change my voice. It was a fine idea but it is time consuming, plus I need a full studio and all I had was a foam sheet lined box; good enough for video blogs, but for voice-overs, it will sounds like I am talking inside… well, a box. So I either have a full voice-over recording studio (Expensive$$$) or I abandon the idea (More precious to lose).
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So as I reviewed my final cut without the voice over to see how the music and the sound effect sounds, I couldn’t believe myself… because I found it to be more enjoyable than having voices for my characters. It was like reading a book, and instead of reading how the scene and the character feels, you actually feel it through the SFX and the composition. And the voice-over is in your head, you give them the voice that you imagine… and nothing is better than your imagination.
Finally, and after so much work that I had to do by myself. The first episode of my animated story is done. A mixture of storytelling, wrapped with music, spiced by sound effects, presented in a plate of imagery with a dash of surrealism.
~ A. H. Amin
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When it hits you…

I was born on July 1985, so when my brothers asked me today what do I want for  my birthday, my mind splat into two… a part ran on auto pilot and went with the conversation, while the other half screamed at the realization that this is the year where I turn 30. Now I know what most of you think… 30 is not that bad, it’s not 60 or 50. Well, here’s where you are wrong.

The reason why I started to view my coming decade in a darker scope is because I no longer have the energy I had when I was 20… and I lack the wisdom I should acquire at the age of 40. So this is the decade I am bound to face my obstacles, my trials and right of passage. I already miss the days where my biggest problems was this picture right here, where a simple solution would be a stick or a taller hand of an older brother.

I miss the days where my biggest problems was this.

I miss the days where my biggest problems was this.

The two parts of my brain merged back together and reason was born from both the optimist and the cynical. My mind reminded me of the many hardship I won against. My record is relatively good. So for now… I guess I’m going to ask for something expensive from my siblings… I guess some things won’t change… my family will be there to make things easier for me.

Here’s a song that I heard recently I’d like to share. How can a song about a negative future be so positive? I’ll never know… I guess I can relate… or maybe I will on my 40th birthday.

I collect to create a mystery…

It is sometimes a good self practice to go back to your primitive origin, if one is to start his or her soul searching, then following its roots will help jog ones mind to reach awareness. That is why I go camping to find comfort in the wilderness away from the redundant and mind numbing comfort of the city. It is a good meditation for both the mind and the soul trapped inside the body. And sometimes finding a small object can lead to an imaginative glimpse into the future.

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I found this key buried in the sand, greenish rust covered it’s secrets and it was obvious that it has been lost for a long time. It gave me so many questions, thus it became an object of interest. And what is interesting for me belongs inside the chest.

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This is where I keep my memories, my first letter, an old mix tape I created, my first girlfriend… Her picture not the actual girl… My first… Well you get the picture. This is a chest that carries a weight, and one day it will be off and out in the open when I’m buried deep down… Hopefully not before I’m dead. So I started to imagine the numerous things, some which would be embarrassing, but then I started to imagine what ideas would that key give? First of all… Will there be keys in the future… Will my grandkids look at it and think “What’s this for? Does it have WiFi?”. Will it become an artifact? Should I start spending everything and depend on that key to be the… Well, key to their salvation? After I abandoned the cheap ideas, I started to concentrate on thoughts with a slightly higher budget.
So here they are, looking at that key, thinking there is some secret room I have kept away from them. Do I have some treasure out there? Is it the key of my first home? My first car? What did it mean to me? Those are the kinds of questions I’d like to leave behind for my generations, items that proves I have a history, no matter how vague it could be.