Writing Blog

"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 poin...

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 d...

"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 immedi...

  " Write about food." This text is a love story, one about an activity we always do, eating. However, it is not exclusive to eating. I believe it is more about sensations, feelings, memories, and passion when doing it. Please, sit down, chill a bit, and take your time to imagine what I will tell you; this will make your mouth water.         Mashawi  Plate is the name of my favorite dish. Why did I select Arabic food and not a Mexican or Argentinian one? Because of the impressions that I had the first time I tasted it. And this is how the story begins.       One day I was with my brother in San Francisco's port, fooling around in the Van, listening to Sam Smith, and talking about drones when suddenly ran into an Arab business. " Mamalon,"  is the word Elias said a second later; however,  Curiosity  was the term that impregnated both our minds and palate.       As co-pilot in charge of choosing ...

"It's 2 a.m., and you're heading home, reflecting on the night you just had."   Personal note: Try to rest more before writing. I'll try to summarize what my best friend and I just did: We started drinking at his house. We decided to go to Luisa's house because there was more space. There were dozens of beers.      However, the last thing I remember about the party was Marcelo's conversation, my best friend. "Come on, man, drink it! It is just a small pill. I have done it before several times, trust me," he said.       I remember how my hands were shaking. The seven beers I had drunk twenty minutes before were touching me already. My smile covered my entire face, that's why my face was so tired, and my strange laugh made everyone mutter. "Alright, buddy. Give my tha' shiiit..." I screamed. My crush looked at me with fear.       After taking it, I knew nothing about myself. My friends called an Uber and waited for it. The driver ...