The Nexus of Writers

Today I'm gonna do something different; instead of a poem or a story, I'm going to write down things to think about when making your character. Members of the Creative Writing Club may notice it's familiar; that's because it's an adaptation of what I found in one of the club meetings. Things I did were modify several questions, and add categories for each set of questions. As well as reordering them. I'm partly doing this because I'll be gone most of today, and partly because I haven't finished any poetry or a chapter in Watching Time, yet. I apologize for my laziness 😴 WHO IS YOUR CHARACTER? First Name: ____________ Last Name: ____________ 3-5 Adjectives that describe your character: ______________ WHAT IS YOUR CHARACTER CAPABLE OF? Strengths: ____________________________ Weaknesses: ___________________________ WHAT DOES YOUR CHARACTER WANT AND WHAT DO THEY DO ABOUT IT? At the start of the story, what is your character's goal? At t

I. I am five-foot-nothing. I like watermelon and obsessively watching slam poems. I am not dead, but I often dream. II. I think I am sick. III. I only take care of myself when I know I’ll have to be seen. I put my hair up to trick myself into thinking it is not greasy and wear baggy clothes to trick myself into thinking I’m still eating (normally). IV. I start things and never finish them. I write three lines Then quit I tell friends plans Then quit I read a page Then quit I open my eyes Then quit II. I think I am sick. V. I love too hard. I hand over my heart on a silver platter, giving the treatment of royalty because everyone should feel on top of the social hierarchy sometimes. I give more than what is earned, deserved, but always seem to get hurt. VI. I love poetry. V. It’ll be a miracle if I finish this one. VI. I write to help because II. I think I am sick.

Many places, I've come to know, People of different cultures, too; They all have their thing, Something that they can do, But not me, not yet, My talent has yet to show up. I write and write, plots And twists and poems and Even the rare favorite of The readers I've lured And ensnared in my blog. Yet deep inside, I force myself To write the words that meet The lines of text and thoughts. Then I turn to run, and Find the wind upon my face As I escape my life, But it always catches up, And the worries I face Distract me, making the Outside world obsolete. Even in reading, I find Myself buried in stories That show misfortune in the Lives of fictional characters, Directly only to do as they Were told by the writer. And yet, in stories there is a Beauty unmatched by reality, A world that eventually Results in kindness and Peace and excitement. And being in those worlds, If only for a mere moment, Is my hobby. If only I could Be the character in the

Wow, that's a long post title! Anyways, I am now featuring the blog, " Parham's Letters "! It features a lot of Civil War letters, and is an excellent place to learn a bit more history! And furthermore, the Spring Collaborative Challenge on this blog has been updated, featuring rules and restrictions for participation! Remember, the challenge starts in exactly a week ! Go forth and write! -Mark Borne

Me: AAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!! LARK LARK LARK!!!!!!!!!! SNAKE!!!!!!! AHHH! Lark, waking up groggily: What? Me: breathing heavily: Snake in the garage, a black racer oh my STARS!!!!! Lark: Get someone to get rid of it - I mean, fear not human! Super Lark will save you! Me: Have you been reading comic books again? Lark, nervous laugh: No. Me: Hmm. Okay. anyway, I am terrified. a snake, in the garage. what has this world come to??? Lark: I'll go get it. Five minutes later... Lark: HUMAN, HUman!there is a giant worm in the garage.!!!! it is at least fifty feet long, and I need my sword. Me: what sword? it wasn';t a worm it was a snake. Lark: Do I look like a pest control? Call a foolsh mortal. not a royal feline. Me: Lark, don't joke about this. Lark: Tomorrow, you are going to go and name the snake. Like Franken lizard. I bet it will be... what? The monster from the blue garage? Me: didn't you run away from it too? Lark: No. Besides, I am a cat. Cats don't

WARNING: I copied from a semi-blurry screenshot to this blog, so some wording may be incorrect. I tried, however, to keep all punctuation, grammar, and word choice the same as the original. To different people the word Love could mean different things. To some, love is magical, to others, it is wrong. But, to me, Love is unique. Although Love might come in different shapes, Love is not singular. In a relationship, there has to be 2, in order to make it work, and both needs to love each other. If you love something, then there is probably someone else who loves it too. Love could also be honesty, and what the world needs. But you must be truthful, because, if you love someone, then if you don't tell them, they will never know. And if you don't love someone then, you have to tell them as well, because you can't live in a relationship where you don't love each other. Love can also be between family. Like a mother's love is special, because it is gentle, and kind, a

That's right, we have STATISTICS and VOTING! I love my voting sessions! :D All-Time Views: 23,317 Views in the Last Month: 10,202 Views Yesterday: 262 Views Today (So Far): 121 Most Viewed February Posts: Summer's Eve, by Prudence Spencer, A.K.A. S. Thorston Scarlett; 143 Views Lark Adventures: Birthday Bash...Cat Treat Bombs? by Al: 132 Views 21,426 Views?! by Mark Borne: 98 Views ...how did a simple views update get more than most posts? That seems contradictory. Maybe I need more view updates, then! :D All Time Foreign Country Views: Germany: 1461 Views Russia: 142 Views Portugal: 68 Views France: 43 Views Brazil: 38 Views Other Countries Combined: 64+ Views (I can't see beyond 10 countries) Unknown Regions: 25 Views (How does one be unknown...?) Well, Germany doesn't have much competition, I guess. Still, I appreciate all the views, guys! Total Comments: 1,000 (That's gonna grow, soon) Most Frequent Com

Welp, I haven't quite finished Watching Time Chapter 10, yet, and have pretty much no poetry written down, plus submissions from other people have run out, so I'll write a bunch of poetry today to carry me through February. In the meantime, enjoy the day without activity on this blog! And eat a mint or something. It might be the sugar, I don't know, but they are SUPER addictive, regardless if your breath is bad or not. (EDIT: If I get to it, I may or may not actually do statistics for this blog.) -Mark Borne

YEAH! 200 posts! Well, this is my 200th one, so it's a big forced/rushed or whatever, but that's a LOT of posts! Here's a bear GIF, for whoever voted for that. (Also, I've fixed the featured post back to the Welcome Post)

I see many of you have voted for the poll, but I still have 0 submissions for my contest, so I figured I'd send out a reminder for those of you who had voiced their desire to participate: 10 days left to submit it!

...that's...well...odd way of putting it, but it's an update regarding an update, so it's grammatically correct :/      Anyways, welcome! I have decided that I am going to work on the remodeling early, so voting is now closed for the theme of the blog, Here are the results: The main color of the blog will change from Orange to Red. The complimenting color will remain as Black. The blog will retain some features, but will be more easy-to-access. The layout will be a bit traditional, but with some unique aspects. Oh boy, I have my work cut out for me. I guess "Simple Yet Cool" is the look I'm going for. Anyways, I will try to bring this update around before March, but no promises! -Mark Borne (CURRENT THEME IS EXPERIMENTAL, ALTHOUGH MAY BE PERMANENT IF MET WITH GREAT POPULARITY)

Staying up late, looking at the ceiling Thinking of the moments and forgotten feelings I miss you so much, where have you gone? Did I mess up too much? What did I do wrong? I should stop blaming myself, it can’t be my fault But I was the one who brought this to a screeching halt You’re on my mind, I can’t leave you behind I was once your light, and you were mine Hours go by, memories hit rewind Replaying again and again inside of my mind But I can’t live in guilt, time to close the door I’ve realized that you do not care anymore I thank you for the times we shared And some days I wish you were still here But I’ve changed and so have you And I think we both know what we need to do Our paths may cross but please know, it’s time for us let go I know it will hurt, but it’s better for us both Goodbye my friend, I wish this didn’t have to be the end But I hope you know I cherish every moment we spent. Author's Note: True.

No comment.

Mark Decius had a terrifying presence, but only because those around him allowed him to.      “AS you can see the plants are immaculate and well-conditioned for their work,” said Mr. Decius. He was tall, brown haired, green eyed, and broad chested. The representatives all noted from the moment they met him that the suit he wore did little to alleviate his brawn, and though he dressed like them, and acted like them, his voice and eyes suggested he had no intention of being like them. “Yes, they are,” said a representative gray haired representative of about 60. “However, it is not the plants’ cleanliness that bothers us, but rather the plants’ inner workings.”    “What is so bad about the plants’ inner workings? I won’t waste your time saying that smart men like yourselves should be interested in the kind of power my plants have, that only men of your level would appreciate this kind of productive, technological advance, only because you wouldn’t believe the pleasantry. You’d thi

My lady, my lady, Where are you? I stand here all alone. I watch the oceans, but no boats come, I watch the skies, But even the birds are few. My lady, my lady, What happened? It's not meant to be, Never was, never will, See each other again we won't, For I am the eye of the storm, Chaos swirling around me, In a deadly vortex of doom. You left me defenseless, You left me alone, How can that be repaired, Among my broken trust? But with you the storm is silent, With you the sea is calm. If only I could reach that center, That point of chaotic safety, Then perhaps we could find, What both of us have lost. I never really left you, Not really, anyways, Simply found myself, In a new place with new friends. But never can you be replaced, For you are my lady, And I am your knight. Death before happiness, Is the only thing we'll find. Sorrow and pain have always, Lurked around the corner, Waiting to strike us an

One step, two steps, three steps, four, All my life I've dreamt of this; Almost there, a few steps left, Into the light and out of the abyss. In excitement I write, "Anxiously I look, I'm almost there, almost done, A few step closer, a few steps past; Soon I'll arrive, and the challenge'll be won." Author's Note: I apologize for the inconsistencies and fact that it sounds like someone insane wrote it; I was really tired when I wrote it, and my mind was jumping all over the place. This has a lot to do with my ADHD, which has thankfully hit a low in my life, so far.

Red for blood, Black for pain, Gray for shame, Orange for fire; Brown for earth, Gold for riches, Purple for royalty, Blue for peace; Yellow for brightness, White for purity, Green for life, Pink for love.

The boy sat on a swing on the playground. His father had not come back, yet. He knew it had only been a couple weeks, but it still hurt him.      "What are you doing?" a girl asked him.      "Waiting for my dad," the boy responded sadly.      "Oh. Me, too."      The boy gave a weak smile. "Maybe we can wait together."      The girl brightened. "Every day?"      "Every day after lunch."      "What if we eat lunch at different times?" the girl wondered.      "Then we wait for the other to arrive," the boy shrugged.      The girl grinned. "I've actually got to go for now, but I'll be here tomorrow!" Three months later...       The boy sadly told the girl the news. He would not be around for another year, because he'd be going to Florida for the summer and right afterwards would be doing school, as well as working at a candy shop for money. They solemnly said goodbye, and left

I donned my suit I prepared for war The bacon was ready And worse than before Hordes of small children Banged on the doors Hungry for bacon; The sick carnivores I ate my last meal And prepared for death I plotted my escape And took a deep breath I looked around My exits were blocked except for the back door, which luckily wasn’t locked I dashed away Leaving my dessert uneaten Deciding survival is better Than being beaten Angry screams Angry shouts Suddenly I had my doubts Fleeing away from the mob My heart was hammering My legs throbbed Lost In the darkness of night Then off in the distance I saw a faint light I stumbled towards The golden glow Then on the back of my head I felt a sharp blow Tackled to the ground Shoved in the dirt I was down The bacon was hurt Bound, beaten Escorted to be shamed “The bacon is captured!” They all proclaimed Suddenly, When they least expected it I shoved them aside And made a quick exit The rapid rushed Thud of my heartbeat Drowned

About a year previously… Rebekah woke silently and let in a slow, ragged breath. She squeezed her eyes shut, as she always did when concentrating.           Thump .           The sound was inside the house, and Rebekah instinctively knew an intruder had broken in. She jumped off her bed and grabbed her pocketknife off the dresser, then approached the door.           Then she froze as two loud bangs came from her parents’ bedroom. Gunshots. Two of them.           Her blood ran cold and she retreated to her closet and buried herself in a ton of stuff. She knew she should have tried to warn her sister, but she had never actually faced a gunman before. She had no idea how to disarm them, how to escape from them, or even how to survive their attacks. Besides , she thought, Hannah sleeps lighter than I do. She’s probably already hidden.           But Rebekah knew her sister was gone when she heard another gunshot, this time from a neighboring room. Hannah’s room.           Sh

Author's Forenote: This poem is a Poetic Short Story, as I call it; it's a short story, but everything has a poetic meaning.  On a hill called Interests, a city had been built. It had become my home for a year and some months, providing shelter from the elements that chase me down. But now, after leaving for a mere moment to develop another of my cities, I come back to wreckage. Debris is everywhere, leaving nothing but ash and fallen dreams.      I stroll towards the center, and stop before the park square called Conversations. It has remained intact, to a degree, but its beauty has faded and it seems to forebode future disasters. I continue my walk until I come across the might tower of Trust, the precise center of the city and what everything around based itself upon. But now, not even a stone seems to remain of Trust, instead having been scattered for me to pick up the pieces.      A bitter wind begins to bite, and I flee, hoping the bunker called Friendship can provide

What defines sickness? Is it ill of body, Broken and weary with Its continuation impossible? Perhaps it is, as such, A physical affliction, But can it, also, be me? The curses of the mind Flowing out into my speech, And into my flying pen, Sketching my thoughts in A puny excuse for a poem, Hoping it heals the pain within, If one, then I am strong, Standing against the winds of A tempest none can endure, Never to fall, never to descend. If both, then every aspect Of my life is infected, Exposed to the outside world. So here's my confession, If I am to fall, so that my Secret shall not fade with me: Among all the storms, Among all the pain, Among all the opposition, No matter what, I love her.

Growing up, we’re getting old So little time, yet so much to go You’re changing and so am I I can tell by the look in your eye You told me you believed in me And that you loved what I’d do On those days when I couldn’t see I would always rely on you Those days are gone And now it feels wrong You’re a senior now And I’m wondering how We’ll still be talking Once you start walking To your dorm room up north Whilst I’m still down south I wonder if you’ll remember Our late night talks Our texts til midnight Cutting it short Because our parents hit the lights I’m scared, and I know you are too Walking on paths, unsure what to do We’ll be okay, I know we will I thank you for the millions of times You made me feel I want you to still keep in contact Never lose who you are I know we’ll get off track And you’ll move too far For us to talk face to face But that’s okay I would do anything To see your name Pop onto my screen At midnight Like it did before

If I ever finish writing the story, which I wouldn't put as unlikely at this point, I've got a cover for it! :D Of course, I'd have to crop it eventually, which I'll do before publishing obviously, but it's pretty close to the finished product.

-sigh- I have never celebrated Valentine's Day, so I guess this blog event is the first. Anyways, I am going to reveal four of my writings on Valentine's day; Lucas Stories will be featured at 10:00 in the morning, and it is followed by three poems that will be revealed every two hours afterwards. The schedule, with the names of each, are featured below: 10:00 --> Lucas Stories: First Love (February 2019) 12:00 --> Colors 2:00 --> Almost There 4:00 --> Death Before Happiness

The Nexus Blog 3.0 Update will renovate the site once again, and this time, I'm going to aim for something a bit cooler. But you, the readers, will be able to vote for it ! I can't wait to see what I'm going to make! (Voting ends on the 20th, in 14 days)

Alex The next week was spent growing accustomed to the school’s routine, not an easy task coming from an entirely different time zone. Oli, who appears to be having almost as much difficulty as I, must not be from around here either. I decide to ask her before she gets ready for out first class. “I’m from Florida, actually,” she replies, grabbing a pair of black sweats and a black tee from her dresser by the window. “The one that hangs off of america and looks like an upside down boot, apparently.” I nod, as if I have any idea where that might actually be, and assess our room. It’s a sparsely furnished 12-by-12, two beds, two dressers, two shelves-one above each bed. On the far wall, where Oli’s bed and dresser reside, is a tall window that overlooks the mountains. It’d be a beautiful view if the window wasn’t guarded with steel bars like a prison. As you enter the room, to your left is the bathroom. In it, a shower, toilet and sink with toiletries underneath. All so close to one

So, after googling my pen names, I discovered there's actually an actor named Mark Swift. Kinda a cool-looking guy, actually. Anyways, since he appeared in movies made before I actually created my pen name, I'm going to change my pen name slightly. Now, I shall be known as Mark Borne ! My commenting name will be changed immediately, and I will start labeling posts differently. At some point, I'll change the labels on all my prior posts. Thank you for reading!

Lark: Human, I am in dire need of assistance. Me: Lark, I'm doing my homework - get off my computer! Lark, sitting on my keyboard: No. I just looked at the calendar. You birthday is on the 26th. I need to get you some Cat Treat Bombs. They explode cat treats, and they would make a great present. Me: But its my birthday, and anyway, the only thing I want this year is to sit and relax. I am so tired of running around with you all day and then doing schoolwork, and all the other stuff with the library and cat rescue, I finally can get one day to sleep in and - Lark: But you can't sleep in, at your age, you have to get up and move or your joints will get sore and so will your back, you are old after all. Me, unsure: How old do you think I am? Lark: Oh about... mmm... 69? But that is not my honest opinion. I honestly think you are 96. Me, red faced: I am turning 16!!! Lark: For sixteen, you sure are slow bringing me food. and you just look... old. I look fifty years younger than I a

Alex I text Ellen to meet me at the park in an hour. I somehow convinced my mother to let me drive to the airport alone since her boyfriend works at the giftshop, and I could use the company. Mom’s boyfriend believes public transportation is better, less sinful, or some barmy idea like that. The man drinks like a fish, like he knows the first thing about being a good little Christian. If you ask me, religion is a fanciful idea created for the unintelligent who can’t handle the idea that we’re all going to cease to exist someday. Maybe that’s why people don’t ask me. I’m sitting on the swings when I see Ellen making her towards me, hips swaying in a skirt much too short for the temperature outside. She walks like a model, each step carefully practiced in heels that would make a hooker blush. Ellen’s always been fun, though I fear she might have had other emotions reserved for this ‘friendship.’ “Hi!!” Her squeaky voice pierces the otherwise silent afternoon. I stand from my spot on

So, many of you Google+ Users have probably already heard that, in April, Google+ is going to be shut down. Well, now the Google+ shutdown is affecting blogger in a few ways. In this post, in blue text, I have copied a notification that I got about blogger: Following the announcement of Google+ API deprecation scheduled for March 2019, a number of changes will be made to Blogger’s Google+ integration on 4 February 2019.  Google+ widgets:  Support for the “+1 Button”, “Google+ Followers” and “Google+ Badge” widgets in Layout will no longer be available. All instances of these widgets will be removed from your blog.  +1 buttons:  The +1/G+ buttons and Google+ share links below blog posts and in the navigation bar will be removed.  Please note that if you have a custom template that includes Google+ features, you may need to update your template. Please contact your template supplier for advice.  Google+ Comments:  Support for Google+ comments will be turned down, and all blogs usi

Naomi decided to visit her grandmother again. She didn’t do it often, but she always came for advice. When she knocked on the rickety house, a young lady answered immediately.           “Hello, Solus,” Naomi told her with a smile. Solus Lupa went under her pen name only, although Earl knew her real name and had promised Naomi that she wasn’t dangerous. “How are you?”           “Good, good,” Solus responded cheerfully. “Mrs. Scarlett was just wondering when you’d visit again!” Solus hesitated. “She’s still a bit upset about her daughter’s death, though, as I’m sure you are.”           Mother…           “It’s getting easier,” Naomi shrugged, forcing her emotions back down. She needed to be strong for her grandmother.           They entered the house and Naomi gasped. “You look older than you did two weeks ago!” she told her grandmother, who was sitting on a couch, and immediately felt guilty.           Mrs. Scarlett, her grandmother, simply laughed. “Yes, I do. Time has a f