Writing Blog

Versión en Español aquí

This essay was created for practicing purposes. None of the information is real.

       "Today, I wrote about a possible future scene. I can't publish the text. See you tomorrow!"        This previous message was the text appearing in the last posts of this website , and here, l et me be honest with you and me. I haven't found the physical energy to keep on writing .      As I said in previous texts, I had an accident rock climbing a boulder (and falling off of a bike days later), and  I didn't expect this torn tendon would last so much.      I consider the most intelligent thing I can do right now is focusing on healing. After that, write the book I have in mind .        For the moment, I want to tell you, thank you! Thanks to the dozen loyal followers reading every drama on Facebook and elsewhere I could create. You inspired me to continue. Draft 1 - Updated October 13, 2020. More drafts between these months. Last Book's Draft - Updated, February 07, 2021. The next day I had a serious accident,   Last General Update, August 16, 2021.  

"Write about one fear and turn it into a character." Everything started a cloudy morning in March. Moisture around the place provoked me to sneeze and wake up. I was sat in an enclosed room. Perhaps it was the living room. I got rid of the humid bindings covering my eyes. Nothing seemed to have life inside that negative space until the sound of two flies flying around gave me the notion of freedom. Somehow their movements were rhythmic symphonies. I still don't realize how I got there. The floor was jammed-packed with untied boots, and the walls were all coat-colored. For a moment, I thought I was dreaming. My weak back felt the pressure of gravity more than ever.       And Emma was there, leaning forward, looking strong, alive, persuasive, and also, methodical. Hatred was the first sentiment I experienced the moment I looked at her black-in-black eyes. Her right arm placed over her right knee added to the way she was staring at me, paralyzed the time.  She pointed to a c

It's been almost an entire month—nearly two—since I write a text I like. My writing guide at the end of every video says: "Whatever you do, keep writing."      Yes! I know! But how can I keep creating worlds when my imagination seems to be against me? I'm not too fond of the last plots I have been doing.           Today, while I was trying to find my way after having several classes with some students and realizing how tired my spirit was. I decided I required to feel something fresh, unique. After a short prayer—where I asked for that sign—a friend came to help me.       Jose Eduardo, also known as Cesar Dudson, has been a family friend for a long time. More than a musician and a writer, he was my oldest brother's best friend and Jesus', my youngest brother, teacher. Two months before his arrival, he posted on Facebook a picture of him finishing "his final notes," that's when I decided to send him a message. "The day you finish those

"Write about something you wish didn't happen but did, and the result gets you here now." After graduating from high school, the company Fresnillo PLC—the biggest in the state—was selecting two guys throughout several high schools to award them with a full scholarship—both food and lodging included—in LaSalle Laguna College, in Coahuila, one of the biggest of the northern part of the country.     The miner group selected me.      My expectations were too high when they contacted me. I started traveling every weekend for a month to know the campus and where I would live, who would be my immediate bosses, and where would be the Autism Center I was about to work. I felt that opportunity as an excellent shot for my future vocation. I always wanted to master multiple languages and enhance my English in a prestigious school. Therefore, the career I chose was Languages and Public Relations.        After receiving my high school papers, I immediately packed my books— The Martian