Tag Archives: writing

Unpile those building blocks! Ask yourself: am I really writing to make a difference?

Hello, you!

I was MIA for some time, I know — but there’s a reason behind that. I was, and still am, struggling between what I think is best for me and what I think is best for my so-called “Future” (taking care of Mom and Dad included). As a result, everything feels a whole lot more oppressive and scary than they should… And although it all makes me wanna hide, I won’t anymore.

OK! So — I’ll start by saying ‘thank you’. If you’re still here with me after all this time, it’s because you wanted to check my work and/or how I’m doing and that makes me feel honored. But let’s get this party started because I do have some news!

Prepare yourself for a new Short Story! (That WILL actually be published)

At some point in the past few months, I’ve decided to join a writing forum, focusing mainly on improving my craft.  What I couldn’t expect to find were new, fantastic writer friends, among whom I met Fabis — with whom I’m now working on a side project we entitled “The Steampunk Detectives”.

In other words: Am I really writing to make the world a better place?

The setting is Imperial Brazil, with a mix of Fantasy, sci-fi and a Steampunk visual theme. And even in the XIXth century, the idea is still to work with diverse characters who are free to be whoever and whatever they want to be. But while discussing this with my co-writer, I noticed something we should all question ourselves:

Am I really trying to smash every piece of constructed prejudice inside me? Are my choices, as a writer, really leading me to improve the place I’m in or am I simply duplicating old customs and terrible ideas?

In other words: Am I really writing to make the world a better place?

This question is precisely what led me to write this article today.

Continue reading Unpile those building blocks! Ask yourself: am I really writing to make a difference?

Not-so-urban- LitBite: A rainy beach, a melting popsicle.

‘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?

I lived in Rio for seven years before moving to São Paulo, to this small city called Santa Lucrécia.

Used with all the comforts the big city brings, I was completely tormented for a long year. In Rio, I had my own toy stove, a collection of beautiful Japanese dolls and more than one private English teacher, who also used to taught me painting and piano. Arriving at Santa Lucrécia, though, I noticed my toy stove was broken, my Japanese dolls were missing and Mrs and Mr Fonseca, my teachers, wouldn’t ever come back for the next class.

I was completely heartbroken and it’s safe to say I faced a really long period of depression that culminated in long, harsh punishments from my strict Mom and Dad.

The more they pressed, the more I fought.

The more I fought, the more they pressed.

Continue reading Not-so-urban- LitBite: A rainy beach, a melting popsicle.

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