August 21, 2011
My newest project, ‘Cornelia’ A novel by A. N. De Berry

I never realized it, but it seems everyone of my ideas for a story first starts with an image, a single glimpse through a distant smoke that conceals all but a corner of some great piece of work, desperately in need of a mind foolish enough to conceive it.” - A. N. De Berry

Aug 15, 2011 - 3:00p.m.

As I laid their on sofa, enjoying an idle conversation with a good cousin of mine, I closed my eyes for only a moment and in that single instance my vision was washed with the image of a young boy, dressed in robes, standing in front of a tall shelf who’s likeness crowed a massive room walled with stone, each of them holding countless treasures of forgotten importance. The young man did nothing more but stand transfixed by an item that sat forgotten, a roundish shard of most pristine crystal, to which it’s core pulsed with a barely visible light.

My eyes flashed open, a bit unsteady at that shire vividness of it, and as soon as the shock past I pulled my notebook out, to which I am NEVER without, and jotted it all down with header, date, and time, as always. I wasn’t really sure of it’s true importance, but one thing I’ve come to understand as a writer, is that EVERYTHING is of importance, SO WRITE IT DOWN!!!

Aug 16, 2011 - 7:10p.m.

And as usual, entirely unbeckoned, perhaps a bit like love in that sense, eureka! A boy without family, lives amongst the cold columns of books and artifacts by the good graces of the lords of a great school. He takes notice of a crystal shard and decides to research it’s origins, having a natural instinct for such things concerning history and deciphering text.

But then a complete back story appears from the thinest of air. Once long ago a darkness began to swarm the lands, so powerful indeed that the very Gods where unable to defeat it, finding themselves at it’s mercy, to which it had none. Mortal and Immortal alike became twisted, their souls blackened as despair came to be known by all. Immune to this darkness was a single soul, a soul so just and true that it purified the souls and world around it. This single soul, beyond taint, belonged to a young girl named Cornelia. The Gods looked down on her with so much pride and admiration that they sacrificed a portion of their own powers in order to raise her to God hood. As the young Cornelia rose to the heavens, she looked back down to the world below and became stricken with grief, as she saw for the first time the total extent of the darkness. As she reached the halls of the Gods she cast down her heart, back to the world so that man would have a weapon in which to battle the darkness…  Or so the legend goes, but is NOT actually what happened, of course!


March 16, 2011
Conception as seen through the writer’s eyes…

My Muse has blessed me with another gift, a story about a man who is instantly reinvented, as for the first time, surrounded by the devastation of his home, he looks up and takes into sight an image that changes him forever. 

‘Above him the stars shine brighter then he has ever seen, stars he didn’t even know where there, and dotting the blackness of the night sky in more numbers then he had ever seen.’

A story about a man who hates all that he is, and is transformed by the sight of the stars above. The feeling of being utterly small, without importance, a minuscule being, and at the same time realizing, dauntingly, that he is apart of something so complex, so beautiful, so immense, that he begins to truly praise the blessing of every single breath he takes.

And as always without prompt or plan I sit down and write dialogue, so that I may better know the characters I am, not creating but discovering! It’s the way it always feels to me. Heres a bit of that.

                              GIBSON

                    It’s an ugly thought, isn’t it. How

                    the lights of the city drown the

                    sky… making it darker and

                    colder then it ever could truly be.

                    These… these disgusting things!

          Gibson points to the street light above him and Nebraska.

                              GIBSON

                    We stand in the night and say we

                    need them, their light… light

                    so that we can SEE, but see what?

                    It’s FEAR, fear of not the dark but

                    of what the dark might be hiding,

                    but we forget! The night only hides

                    what is present during the day, OUR

                    LIVES… our lives are what we

                    fear, maybe around the next dark

                    corner, here to clam us, here to

                    taunt us. The deepest and darkest

                    of secrects are always the one’s,

                    hidden in the light. But these

                    lights… burning flames of the

                    very stuff we’re made of. These

                    lights…

          Gibson points to the stars in the distant sky.

                              GIBSON

                    These shine with a faintness,

                    brighter then any bulb, and the

                    light that rains down from them

                    allows the eyes of men to see…

                    to see…

                              NEBRASKA

                         (intently)

                    See, what?

                              GIBSON

                    Only that which is invisible,

                    things we can not touch, but that

                    are worth more then anything we

                    could ever embrace. We are blinded

                    by the lights of our own creations.

                    It’s funny.

                              NEBRASKA

                    What?

                              GIBSON

                    The brighter we shine below, the

                    further away the heavens seem to

                    retreat.


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