Nika Harper's Blog, page 15
January 3, 2014
Writing a novel. Mini-excerpt.
"Ruby danced.
She was lava, dripping and melding into new shapes, cooling, pretending she was ready to be touched. She pooled molten beauty, exhaled steam, moved like a volcanic eruption… violent, inevitable, disastrous, final. Beautiful.”
I’m proud of the sexy.
writerlyn:
This is, hands down with no exaggeration, one of the...
This is, hands down with no exaggeration, one of the most inspiring and heartfelt collections of advice I have read.
December 30, 2013
The Miracle of Trinity
She hummed a quiet melody to the child in her arms. Its tiny, gurgling lips were dwarfed by puffy cheeks, with the softest warmest skin and those inquisitive eyes!
“He’s perfect,” she said.
The parents beamed, their pride glowing brighter than the sunlight in the hospital windows. “We know, it’s like, how would we make something so wonderful?…”
Her fingers stroked the top of his head, velvet soft from his new hair. He seemed tired in her arms, but content. They looked at each other with understanding. She could sense it in him, in his little brain and his little eyes, and his little fingers wrapped around hers. This meant something.
“He’s going to grow up beautifully.”
The lamp-lit walls of the nursery perfectly matched the knit sock in her hand, and she closed the door behind her with a deep, ready breath. It was so quiet, just the buzz of the mobile sending pastel animal shapes gamboling across the walls. She followed the path of a powder blue elephant, a pink tiger, a silly yellow monkey as they rippled over the picture frames on the wall, the glass underneath hungering for photos to display.
I was all yellows in here, the color of his hair, the color of the sunlight when they met.
“Trinity,” she said aloud, rubbing the sock between her fingers. He would complete them, the unity of God and herself. He was a child of miracle. She placed Trinity’s sock in the center of the cradle, creasing the tightly-tucked sheets with a promise of use.
She hummed a quiet melody to the empty, immaculate crib.
December 13, 2013
Krampus' First Christmas: a holiday story for children
Watch the video reading of Krampus’ First Christmas here!
***
The snow was falling outside. It was white and lovely.
It always snowed here, but the elves liked it a lot. Every day was a day for snow angels, big warm hats and cocoa! It was tradition. You think it might get boring, but it never did, not for the elves.
Today was a very special day! The new elves were starting their first day in the workshop, they were finally able to help make the toys! They went to special toy school where they would learn how to sew, or paint, or build!
This year’s new elves were very excited! They were going to be the best, most talented elves in the workshop, for sure! All, except for Krampus.
Krampus didn’t look like the other elves.
He didn’t build things the way they did.
He didn’t sing carols as well as they could.
Krampus had a hard time fitting in.
He tried to do his best, but it just didn’t seem to work right. The other elves were all so good! He read extra books and practiced after dinner, but he still wasn’t keeping up with the group.
The other elves would tease him!
They gave him a good Sleighbell Zing, and even a Yuletide Jeer!
When they had sleepovers, or pizza parties, Krampus was never invited.
Krampus felt really left out.
Maybe he wasn’t meant to be an elf! His teachers tried to inspire him. Krampus had to think really hard. What would make the other elves like him?
One night, when everyone was asleep, Krampus stole all the toys! He packed them up into a big bag and hid them away until the morning.
“Where did all the toys go?” the teachers asked. The elves were sad, some of them cried. “We just want our toys back!” they yelled.
Krampus opened his bag. “I found them!” he said, “I found them all again! I saved Christmas! Your toys are back!”
But the elves didn’t trust him. “You probably stole them yourself!” one said, and of course, he had. He stole them so he could be a hero, and it didn’t work.
Krampus sat outside and was sad. He just wanted to be liked. He wanted to be as good as the other elves. One teacher came outside to talk to him, his name was Mr. Nick.
“That’s a very nice bag that you made,” Mr. Nick said.
“Thank you,” said Krampus, not feeling very special at all.
“You know, a bag like that could be useful on Christmas!”
“You mean, to hold all the toys?!” Krampus said, surprised.
“Well, yes,” Mr. Nick said, “and also another one to hold all the naughty children we find on Christmas eve.”
“Don’t you give them coal?” Krampus asked.
“I won’t tell if you won’t.”
And Krampus found his place in Christmas! He would sew a big bag for Saint Nicholas every Christmas, so he could deliver all the toys to the good kids!
And the bad kids?
Krampus would collect them and teach them that being naughty never pays off.
(Because he would eat them.)
“If sometimes you feel left out
When you don’t act the way they do,
There’s a place for everyone!
Just keep on being you!”
Happy Holidays!
December 11, 2013
"It’s only recently that I’ve come to understand that writers are NOT marginal to our..."
It’s only recently that I’ve come to understand that writers are NOT marginal to our society, that they, in fact, do ALL our thinking for us, that we are writing myths and our myths are believed, and that old myths are believed until someone writes a new one.
[…]
I think it’s a beginning for authors to acknowledge that they ARE myth-makers and that if they ARE widely read, will have an influence that will last for many years— I don’t think that there’s a strong awareness of that now, and we have such a young culture that there is an opportunity to contribute wonderful new myths to it, which will be accepted.
”- A rare 1974 interview with Kurt Vonnegut, touching on some oh-so-timely issues. (via explore-blog)
December 10, 2013
"Partial list of proven ways to avoid creative blocks:
Stroking one’s genitals (Thomas Wolfe),..."
Stroking one’s genitals (Thomas Wolfe), standing on one’s head (Igor Stravinsky), taking a shower (Woody Allen), smelling a drawer of decaying apples (Friedrich Schiller), photographing “filth and decay” (William Gass)”
- —from "Daily Rituals: How Artists Work" by Mason Currey.
December 7, 2013
Impromptu Christmas Carols
I was searching a list of holiday carols, and I stumbled across one title, with no other explanation, called “Jesus Christ the Apple Tree”
I couldn’t stop myself from filling in the blanks.
"Jesus Christ the Apple Tree done felled itself on Christmas!
Now how we s’posed to make the pie? Ol’ Gramma’s gonna miss this!
I busted up its branches and stuck ‘em under my arm
This Christmas this here Apple Tree is gonna keep us warm!”
*crackling fireplace sounds*
December 6, 2013
Support me on Patreon!
Hello, I’m Nika Harper.
Among many things, perhaps too many, I’m an author. It’s far and away my biggest passion. What I really want is to write, and encourage others to do the same.
In my show, Wordplay, and so many of the videos I make, I try to motivate people to write. To me, it’s been the one thing that kept me going when I’ve needed it most. When I was alone or feeling hopeless, I could escape through writing, and reading the stories of others. Now, when I feel useless or incapable, I feel so much better by encouraging others to write too.
It’s good to have hobbies, but I want to make this more than that.
I want to keep writing as my focus, and with the state of the entertainment industry in such flux, that’s hard to do. What I’m asking is that, if you like what I make, you sponsor me to create more of it.
It’s easy for our passions to be overshadowed in life, it sometimes feels like the whole world is telling you no. I like helping people exercise their passion for writing.
Will you help remind me of the same?
Patreon is a site that allows you to support artists in making the things they love, it’s like a perpetual, micro-kickstarter. I started up a Patreon page of my own, where you can pledge for the stories I make. It gets me one step closer to making a living off being an author which would be… just amazing.
I want to keep writing and inspiring people, and I hope you can help me with that. So please check out my page, and if you like my stories and my videos, donate and you can help me make more.
Thank you. So much.
(also watch the video here! http://youtu.be/arzs0eSI6SQ )
December 1, 2013
Stern Letters and Sharp Words : A Garland Cinquain
Evening
Careful, Quiet
Dipping a pen in ink
Solace in all these written words
Cherished
Letters
Smudged well wishes
Landing on the desktop
Congratulations and respect
Dismissed
Writing
Words to the page
But something felt so wrong
Trembling hands and shaky lines
Deep breaths
Spasms
Dizzying pain
Burnt film visions in black
Crimson blood droplets on the page
Revenge
Anger
Disagreement
Pages of love and hate
Pasted together with blood
Mourning
Evening
Smudged well wishes
But something felt so wrong
Crimson blood droplets on the page
Mourning
***
A garland cinquain written on the topics of “sanguine sunrise,” “when is it right to take a life?” and “poison pen pal” for my creative writing challenge vlog, Wordplay #15.
