Monthly Archives: June 2016

A different POV: Not another Wednesday night.

♥ Have you ever wondered how much a scene can change if seen through another character’s eyes? Have you ever thought the different meaning a single conversation can have? Maybe something that means absolutely nothing for one character can mean the world for another – and the way they react show much more of their inner self than any amount of spreadsheets and lists.

This is a GREAT exercise to get to know your character better and also to understand his/hers motivations! Today I want to show you one of my favourite scenes from “‘My Sharona’ your ass!” as seen by another character. I hope you enjoy it!

Before reading: There are not spoilers in this text – but if you’ve read chapter “Please, Please, Please” on Wattpad already, the experience might be slightly different. If want to reread it, you can do it on this link! ♥

If I had to describe her as anything at all; if I had nothing but one word to do it… I don’t know. Maybe I’d use ‘green’. After all, green is my favourite colour. And she is one of my favourite people in this city.

Country.

Continent.

The door opens and her smile opens too – just as easily. It’s wide as if seeing me was a great pleasure. As if that smile wasn’t only some sort of charming greeting. Which probably is. Perhaps I’m smiling as well, but I’m not sure. I’m too busy to notice.

Instead, I notice something else: in the way she moves, I can see her will to hug me; in the way the muscles on her arms and legs tense, I can see she stops herself.

I wish she hadn’t.

Continue reading A different POV: Not another Wednesday night.

Lit Bite: An impression about Urban life

‘Lit Bite’ is a collection of nano-texts that may or may not have an ending. For me, it represents a reflexive moment, a time to think about Writing and about my life in the city, with all the great and terrible feelings it brings me. They are short, small scenes with memories or imagined situations. What do you think? Wanna join me in this adventure?

The Rock Gallery in São Paulo lies in the very heart of the city; the centre, noisy and full. Or – ‘usually noisy and full’, since that day it was the complete opposite. Perhaps the ever-falling temperature of Winter (or the sticky sadness in the air) left the streets empty. The sky, cold and grey, hid between tall buildings, was cut by pointy concrete apartments and signal towers.

Inside one of those buildings, a small shop was still opened, a small neon sign hanging behind a dimmed glass display window. The ‘Tattoo Club’ was not at all crowded during that Wednesday afternoon; the two women sat on the wooden bench near the door, while Death Metal beamed through hidden sound boxes. The guttural love song mixed with all the solitude around the place. On the reception, a single old man (his hair sprinkled with grey hair strands) headbanged the rhythm, his glasses’ thick lenses somewhat dirty.

Continue reading Lit Bite: An impression about Urban life

My first book changed my life. Here’s why…

Work. Work. Work. Money. Work.

Money. Work. Work. Work.

Money.

Work.

And this was my entire vocabulary throughout any conversation, one year and three months ago, locked in a big office in São Paulo, Brazil, dealing with major clients, millions of users every day and one demanding boss.

“Love, do you want anything for Valentine’s day?”

“Work. Work work, money?”

“How was your weekend, Ligia?”

“Work money, work?”

(ok, I might have exaggerated here a bit. But you got the idea!)

I’m not really sure when I started to feel it – what I do know is: somewhere along the way, I lost track of what I wanted. My days, then, became all the same. A routine of waking up, working my ass off, not being recognised properly, drowning my sorrows in beer, coffee and cheese flavoured Fandangos (a Brand of Brazilian snacks). What matters is: I wasn’t happy… I really wasn’t.

And more than any of it, I wrote. With all my just found passion, with all my reborn heart, with everything I had.

I felt as if, day after day, my soul was getting dry. My heart slowly dying – and with it, my dreams. I didn’t think about what I wanted anymore. I just thought about surviving.

Because of it and several other events (both good and terrible), I quit my job, then entered a plane to spend 6 months with my aunt in England. There, I travelled alone to cities I can’t even name, saw and met people I don’t remember anymore – did things I’d never do -, lived and felt like never before.

And more than any of it, I wrote. With all my just found passion, with all my reborn heart, with everything I had. First, to improve my English. To come back to Brazil with a killer cv (a killer resumé) that would put my career back on track.

You see, I always enjoyed to write. For some time I even entertained the idea of becoming a writer – ‘But that was long ago,’ I thought. ‘When I could be anything else. Now I’m too old, right?’ I had even started a book once, two years before! And in two years, I wrote nothing but 16 chapters.

But something happened to me in England. I’m not sure why, but everything changed before my eyes. When I started to write about Sharona, giving her and her friends (all of them) a little piece of myself, I didn’t notice how much I, too, was learning with her and with my readers.

As I wrote, I posted chapter after chapter on Wattpad (here’s the link for my account there if you want to add me) without even thinking about revision or editing. The answer I received was fantastic. The comments, the interaction… And when someone told me how much reading it helped them… Jesus Christ, I cried. Oh, if I cried!

I knew this was what I wanted to do. I knew the path would be difficult. I knew I’d need luck, courage, stamina, hope and a whole lot of patience to face this change of careers… But still I accepted it. And I embraced how shitty my life would seem to be from then on – and  until I reach my goals.

Oh, please highlight ‘seem to be’, since never before I felt as good as now, living completely broke, freelancing to pay the bills and writing/editing most of my time. Although I didn’t buy any new pair of high heels in the past 6 months (and that a promotion in the office is out of question), I know I did the right thing.

x Ligia Nunes