Spider...

I weave characters by day...
Spin plot lines at night...
I form a web of lies and deciet, masked in letters...
Ink is my thread...
Paper is my foundation...
I ensnsare readers in my creation...

Still Short...

Guck...

Relatives here... Love them very much, but not feeling well...

Short...

Not feeling well.

Updated "Mutts" on Fictionpress...

Murder...

Hehe... I killed my second-cousin-twice-removed... Hehe...

Kidding. For Christmas, my dad gave me the PC game "Agatha Cristie's: Murder on the Orient Express." Pretty fun stuff. It was a little frustrating to have to search every room on the train for something that was in my character's own room the whole time, but such is life...

Hehe... My brother's turkey just blew up... Don't ask.

Anyway, drew a picture of my two main characters - Bane and Meirzen - and each has three of the more important subservant characters in their storylines nearby. It's all together like those movie posters that have elements of the storyline. Mine just has people, though I was thinking about adding key objects. Maybe a horse and rope on Meirzen's and a ball and fire on Bane's... Or not... I'm always afraid of messing my work up. And I already did a killer shading job (or at least I think it is - my shading skill is nada) on this, so I suppose I should be content for now... I'll try and get it posted up here somehow.

Word counts...

YAY! I did a word count on my novel-to-be... I had to add up all the word counts of all the chapters since I have them all on different files... But it was all worth it because...

I HAVE A TOTAL WORD COUNT OF OVER 27,000! I'm halfway to 50,000 (minimum length for your average novel) and I only have 10 stinkin' chapters! *whoot*

Yeah, anyway, I am pumped. Nothing more to say.

MERRY CHRISTMAS!

or happy whatever holiday you celebrate...

*sigh* Got a fabulous new keyboard (wireless, that weird bent thing where it is more comfortable for your hands, came with a mouse... the whole shebang) and what do you know, it doesn't work on my personal computer... So I am using it on my parents' computer and life is tough...

*sigh once again*

Ah well, I intend to buy myself a used laptop tomorrow, when everyone and their cousin is going to be getting rid of their old laptop. So yeah, I don't know if my parents should even bother to get me a new keyboard... I want the laptop in addition to my desktop so that I can have mobility. I don't care if it is new or whatever: I just want it to have word processing capabilities. I got sick of retyping things I had written on paper, so I intend to write my entire second draft of my novel on the computer.

Merry Christmas (or whatever) once again...

Hercules and Cleaning...

Call IX -I - I !! Absolutely laughed my butt off last night watching Disney's Hercules. Some of the jokes (that one included) are actually Roman in nature, despite the movie's claim to be Greek. (ex. "who puts the 'glad' in 'gladiator'" - gladiator comes from the Latin root "gladios", meaning sword) And they messed up some of the heroes and stories and gods. But hey, it's funny, no?

Loved that movie. Like RSC, you can enjoy it even if you know nothing about the source material, and love it even more if you actually do know something.

*blank stare*

Just finished up 3 hours of cleaning up my basement... We got nearly a third done in just that time. We still have a lot to do, but we did a heck of a job if you ask me.

But now I am tired. Geez, exhaustion seems to be following me around like a leech.

*zombie stare*

*emerges from grave of wrapping paper*

11:00... and ... still ... wrapping... (granted, we didn't start until about 9:30, so don't go ragging on us about the commercialization of Christmas. Yes it is a concern. But I am a tired zombie person right now, so don't bring it up with me... I might smite you...) We actually aren't giving many presents, but presents seem to take forever to wrap...

*drools and slouches away*

Writing a Monster...

How do you write an innocent monster? So far I haven't found any instruction manuals and the only thing similar is Frankenstein's monster. But while he is a monster on the outside, my character is a monster on the inside.

I think I am doing fairly well. He may do horrible things, but he is still completely innocent. He doesn't understand why what he has done is wrong. He doesn't try to justify his actions by thinking it is for the good of all. He does it to satisfy himself and doesn't understand why everyone else gets upset.

Anyway, I am writing his chapter now and I think that in his innocence, he is an endearing character. Of course, other people could hate him horribly, but I like him and I guess that is what matters. I wouldn't write a character that I hate.

Still Exhausted, Inheritance News...

Yes, I am still haunted by that monster that is fatigue. And as brevity is the soul of wit (and saves my fingers the effort of typing), I shall be brief...

News on the "Inheritance Trilogy" (beginning with Eragon, etc.): it is no longer a trilogy. It is to become a cycle, with four books rather than three. (not that this is news to any diehard Inheritance fan, which I am not ashamed to say that I am not...)

Don't knock me for being an Eragon reader. I am torn between loving and hating the books, depending on when I am reading them. But in any state of mind, I hate the time spent with the elves in "Eldest." I just do. And I am sick of Eragon making an ass of himself over Arya. *bleh*

I dunno. It depends on my mood...

Deletion and Exhaustion...

I do believe I am to delete yet another character from my book. *sigh*

I am too exhausted to write more.

Exams, Katharine Kerr and a writing dilemma...

Today's exams were so incredibly, ridiculously easy it defies belierf. Now I have time to dread tomorrow's. History... *bleh*

A really excellent author that I have dicovered is Katharine Kerr. She writes Celtic fantasy and does so incredibly well. It confused me the first time I read one of her books because her characters reincarnate and at the beginning of the book, they had one manifestation and then in the next chapter they had a new manifestation. But you catch on pretty quickly and the books are great. I haven't read many yet, but the ones I have are highly original and I recommend her as an author.

I now face a dilemma... I have to figure out how to kill time in one of my chapters for my character Bane. He has found a new home, among loving people, except for the fact that they are rebels and he is only slowly realizing it. But I have to figure out how to write him living a normal life until he begins to notice strange things.

Actually, having written the above out, I suddenly came up with an idea... Maybe I am not faced with a problem... Hmmm...

100 kinds of Mutts...

Don't have much time to write, considering I must go study for my next exams tomorrow. But if you are looking for something to read by me, go to my Fictionpress account and check out my new additions to my Mutt story... You will read and you will enjoy.

Life is crazy...

Exams are insane. Mine start tomorrow, so, while I will update everyday, don't expect much bulk... But Friday I am home free and the blog will be inundated with my life.

Anyhoo, I came up with the most fabulous idea for one of my characters that would kill time. All of my character's lives are moving at a fairly similar rate in the story, but while two characters' lives will take some time to explain a bit, the third's has a lull of about six months story time. So I came up with a time-killer that will ultimately end up tying the story closer together. At least, that is the plan...

Wrote another two of my Mutt stories, but I'm cutting into study time right now, so I should get offline.

Writing Advice, Steroids and Stress... the triple threat

To any writer out there who might be reading this, I hugely recommend the book "Stein on Writing, " by Sol Stein. It is honestly the best book on writing that I have ever read (for fiction or nonfiction) along with "Revision" by Kit Reed. These two books are absolutely fabulous. These are books that I would definitely recommend buying.

Anyway, I was listening to the radion on my way to school yesterday morning and they were talking about steroids in sports and how competitive parents can somtimes influence their kids into taking steroids.

I hate those parents that expect perfection out of their kids. Perfect grades, always winning in the twelves sports they play, talented in every thing that they might ever do. It is insane.

The suicide rate in Japan is crazy. So much is expected of them in their schools and jobs that if they fail, they feel that they have disgraced their family and sometimes they're under such stress that their kill themselves.

I don't know what the suicide rate is among kinds with perfectionist parents, but I'm sure that it is probably pretty high. I hold myself up to really high standards in school and the stress that I impose on myself is crazy. I have never been so tired doing a school year as this year. Seriously, I sleep whenever possible.

The Promished Long Story...

(yes, last post was one big sentence and a little one... shoulda made it all one big one... ah well)

K, in drama class, we are currently doing a project in which I, along with a few other students, are directors, while all the other students are actors. The directors were given choices of short sections from longer plays (A Midsummer Night's Dream, Waiting for Godot, etc.) and had to cast their plays and direct and all that good stuff. It has been an absolute blast.

I have the smallest cast - only two - as I am doing a seven or so minute clip of 'Waiting for Godot'. My two people are the best cast you could ask to have. Line check (when all is needed is memorization - not even expression is requiered) was over three weeks ago and they had their blocking down by then. They were acting for line check! *huggles them*

So from then on, we have had pretty fun practices. With over an hour and a half per class and the play only being 7 minutes long, we have either enough time to do an enormous amount of acting or a little acting and a little fun. Usually it is the latter.

So last class, we did the play about 4 times and then were bored. So we began to take apart the room and put it back together. When we act, we take all of the tables (we have long tables rather than individual desks) from one side of the room, shove them among those on the other side and stack up all of the chairs so that we have an entire side wall of the classroom free to work against.

We did it again and again, doing it faster and faster. We had it down to a system. Then we found a stopwatch and began to time ourselves.

Practice was nearing its end and another group came in to see what we were doing. We handed them the stopwatch and told them to hit the stop/start button when we told them. Start . Scramble - thump - thump. Stop.

12.01 seconds to take the room apart. 12.01 seconds to move 3 tables across the room to park between the other tables and to take 12 chairs and stack them up to sit in a corner. 12.01 seconds for three people to accomplish this.

Then we had them time us putting it back together. Start. Scramble - thump - thump. Stop.

14.26 seconds to put the room back together. 14.26 seconds to move everything back to its alloted place, pressed against the wall and chairs tucked in.

We went crazy. We were high-fiving and hugging and screaming, all while the other group was standing there looking at us as if we were insane. We probably were. But let me tell you, doing that over and over again is good exercise. We were hot and sweaty and we felt good.

I highly recommend that for fun if your teachers don't mind you taking apart their classrooms. *shifty eyes*

Yes, yes, t'was fun. And now the final performance approaches and we prepare to blow away all competition. *limbers up* Seriously, I do think that we have the best cast, barring maybe one, and I am not just saying that because I am the director.

Yup, yup, yup. Wish us luck!

Not much time...

I had a big long story to tell, but I have to leave soon for the night and I didn't want to miss another day and so this is a post mostly for me and not really for you, but I still hope you enjoy it even though it is nothing really to read on account of the fact that I have no time and am posting only so that I don't miss another day...

Notice something missing?

*gasp* I missed a day...

Have currently finished 5 chapters and am moving on to the 6th! Yay! Also I am working on a story for my little sister's Christmas gift: I'm going to bind her a little book... AND I have to work on typing out an old story for my grandmother's birthday in February - I wrote it when I was very little and she loved it, and so she wants a copy, but it was all written in long-hand.

Anywho, must get back to work...

Victory...

Psh, you thought that you had heard the sports stories of incredible odds... Just wait to you hear this one...

Fitz looked up at the scoreboard. 29 to 9. They had lost. But it didn’t matter to her. She was proud of her team.

The team had been formed on short notice. The board announced that there was to be a scrimmage with another private school – playing their varsity team - in a week or so. A draft quickly began. The board had accepted the challenge without really considering whether or not the kids would be interested or willing to play. So kids were coerced into playing, having had their arms twisted by various adults.

Fitz hadn’t played basketball in over two years and even then she had been on a team for one day. (she had quit because of the scariness of the boys… she had been the only girl…) So when she was drafted because of her height, she was rather bitter. But finally she decided that it would be the best thing for the school – school spirit and all that – so she finally agreed, albeit reluctantly. The final count for the teams were 7 for the boys’ and 7 for the girls’. 7 against 20.

The teams – the boys’ and the girls’ – were finally formed on Tuesday. Practices were announced to be on Wednesday and Thursday and the game would be on Friday.

Fitz missed the first practice, as did many of the girls. So when Thursday rolled around, most of them were learning how to play basketball for the very first time – Fitz included. Practice lasted for two hours. Two hours to learn how to beat the varsity team.

Uniforms were ordered, but they were to arrive on Friday at 5 p.m. It was thought that the game would be at 6:30, but then it was moved to 4. But the printers came through and they delivered the uniforms at 1.

Friday arrived. A pep rally was held, with food and karaoke as well (the karaoke was bad… most of the boys can’t sing at all… the entire school laughed a lot)

The teams reached the gym of the other school. The girls’ game was to be first. There was a great deal of anxiety as they practiced. Most of the girls were horrible shots – they had only learned the night before.

When the game began, the team was timid. When breaks were called, the coach was teaching them how to play. They were learning by total immersion.

The first quarter ended 18 to 0. It looked hopeless. Half-time was 20 to 0. But by the third quarter, the team began to understand how it was done. Their defense became formidable. The other team’s scoring slowed. Fitz’s teammate Brownie was short, but fierce. She scored the first point. Bammi, another on Fitz’s team, began to score. The score rose. Fitz even scored a basket, despite her hopeless shooting ability.

Then Bammi fell. Her ankle seemed shot. The team feared that she had broken it. But then the news came that she was fine. The ankle was sprained. Bammi was out for the game but the bones were whole.

Fitz’s teams’ subs came only when a player was desperate. There were only two players to spare at any one time. The other team could switch out their entire team whenever they wanted.

Heather was the fantastic dribbler. Anna played defense. Megan was all over the other players. Michelle played nearly all of the game. They were learning how to play as they went. The coach would call a timeout whenever possible to show them a technique. They were getting it.

Final score: 29 to 9. But the team didn’t care. They had come from 20 to 0 at halftime to 29 to 9. They still lost by 20 points, but they blocked the 70 or more other shots that the other team had taken. They felt as though they had won.

The boys’ game was more aggressive, but the girls were too excited by their victory to care that the boys ended up losing. The school had put up a challenge to the other teams. They had made a dramatic entrance. With only 7 players on each team against 20, two days of practice (1 day for most of the girls) and little to no experience, they never gave up. It was a victory for them.

Just awake enough to move my fingers...

Absolutely wiped out, but proud of myself... We had a basketball game today and it was a blast, as well as a great story. Will tell all as soon as I am awake enough to type it all out... But for now I am retiring to my bed.

G'nite...

Exhausted...

Too tired to write much... Got 2 hours of sleep last night, went to school, drove around on errands with my mom, went to basketball practice and just now got home at 9:00...

*yawn* Zzzzzz...

Ocean of Tears...

I started posting my second draft of "Ocean of Tears" on Fictionpress. Yay me!

Anyway, I am currently working on chapter 4, having just taken a break to write here. I have a little over 1200 words and I'm running out of things to say for this chapter. My goal is at least 2000 words, but something like 4000 would be better. The first two chapters are a little over 4000 and the third is about 2500 I think. In my first draft, most of the chapters were quite short. So this time I am trying to make them a bit longer and take the time to tell the story as it is.

I suppose to make it longer, I could describe Bane's entrance into Deu, but that would take inspiration and right now I am rather lacking in that department. I have no enthusiasm for this chapter. Gah! I want to write a Quina chapter, but I have to get through this chapter first. I refuse to write them out of order.

It's funny, Quina is my favorite character with Red running a close second. But my readers seem to not notice her that often. My brother hates Quina and loves Red. He also loved Chagrin (a half-elf) and Risa (a gypsy) but they are both gone in the second draft.

*sigh* Writer's Block is a terrible disease to have. I am stuck in this chapter, but I will persevere.

Hmm... I just realized that I made the first chapter I wrote the second chapter and so I am actually out of order right now. But I am going to continue my work. If I leave it alone now, I fear that I will never come back to it... Actually I will, but that doesn't mean I want to... *bleck*

Ah well, such is the life of a writer.

Cats...

I forgot my beloved haiku at school again today... My humblest apologies. I will do my best to retrieve them, but no promises anymore. I am to be extremely busy tomorrow and I am forgetful enough with nothing to do.

Anyway, I was reading a book on the musical "Cats" today and am now waiting impatiently for my copy of the DVD from the library. (I could go to the rental place, but I am lazy and I don't feel like spending money on something I can get free if I only wait a few days...)

I love that musical and highly recommend it. It really doesn't have a plot - it's more of a long string of introductions to all of these different cats. Really cool. It has one song in which the subject of the song makes some suggestive dancing movements, but I'd only give it about a PG and if you really are offended, just skip it. The rest of the DVD is to die for...

What would be even better would be to go see the play if it is ever being performed near you. I have never been, but I am waiting anxiously for a performance near me to show up somewhere.

Cryptic...

I would've smashed the Deusen, but the tigers came too late...

You would only understand if you were at history club tonight at my school... Or you could guess.

Anyway, I lost the paper with the haiku I was going to post... I think I left it at school, so look out for it tomorrow...

Writer's Block + Bored = Reduced Shakespeare post...

I am lost. Tired. Alone. Writer's Block has hit me. But never fear, I will overcome it. I have simply to push through the initial meeting between Bane and Lam and all will be well... It will be fairly easy - Bane is blind no longer (my apologies to all who loved his non-seeing, but writing blind characters is butt-kicking hard...) - and the meeting will be made easier...

I am bored. In all honesty.

And this brings me to the third topic of this post: Reduced Shakespeare. If you haven't heard of it, look up "The Reduced Shakespeare Company" somewhere on Google. Clips of their DVD are available on YouTube for viewing (type in RSC), though I recommend getting the DVD and watching it all the way through. Absolutely hysterical.

"Divide we our kingdom by three... Cordelia, you go long." ~ King Lear in the middle of a football game...

Excellent stuff that. If you are a Shakespeare lover, and even if you are not, this is something worth seeing. A little crude - probably a PG - but so is Shakespeare when you understand it in the vernacular.

Hmmm... My day is being brightened by the smell of the pot roast cooking in the oven...

Raining Coffee Pots...

We have a fairly large industrial-type coffee maker down in our basement. I don't know why, but we do.

Today my mom was working in the basement and by freak accident, the coffee maker fell on her head. It cut her scalp a little and there was blood everywhere.

She's fine, however. It was more a shock of the moment thing. I mean, how many people can brag about the sky raining coffee makers? Not many, I expect.

Nothing much else to say... I slept in until 1 in the afternoon and then was working in the basement. Then I went to a bingo fundraiser for our school and I just got back. Nothing to say about writing or anything else...

My love affair with "The Scarlet Letter"

Get ready for a long post...

Yes, I love the Scarlet Letter. Or rather, I like to write about it. Below, find two essays written about the Scarlet Letter, one a few months ago, and one earlier this week...

This one was written 10/16/07. I loved it when it was written. Now I am not quite as thrilled about it, but I still like it...

The Scarlet Letter

With a combination of realism, symbolism, and allegory, “The Scarlet Letter” examines the fragile nature of the human spirit. Through examinations of conscience and character, Hawthorne presents the human nature with all of its flaws and strengths. He shows hate and love, acceptance and rejection, just by describing the scenery. Universal truths - crime and punishment - are revealed through simple actions and objects. Some small points can take pages of description. Some of the most complex are revealed with a few short lines. It sheds light on how the seemingly innocent and harmless actions can lead to great mishap or great enlightenment.

The setting of “The Scarlet Letter” is in the American colonies, in a fiercely strict Puritan society. This immediately marks Hester as an outsider. She is an independent woman, with a powerful bearing, rather than the more bitter yet insignificant presence of the other women of the town. Then, with the scarlet letter, she is marked as an adulterer. This changes her from a strange woman to one who is regarded with shock and horror. Her bastard child is another brand proclaiming her sin. This rejection from society is hard on Hester, even with her inner strength. To have the scarlet letter would have been bad enough, reminding her daily of her sin. When she is excluded from society, she has nothing at all to distract her from her constant shame. Her only companion is her daughter, Pearl, who adds to Hester’s shame with her constant attention to the letter.

Pearl is the symbol of Hester’s crime and punishment. Born of a sinful union, she is a wild elf-child. Some even consider her a demon in human guise. She treats the scarlet letter with reverence, always decorating it or touching it, never letting it pass out of Hester’s mind. Pearl frolics during her mother’s sadness, yet sometimes will show the most remarkable tenderness. Then she will scamper away, playing once more the naughty, tormenting imp. She seems to see right into her mother’s soul. Yet she is all innocence when she asks why her mother wears the scarlet letter and whether she has signed a pact with the Black Man. Hester avoids her questions, trying to hide her sins, but Pearl is constantly insistent, as if she can read her mother’s thoughts and is trying to draw them forth in words.

Hester’s strength is the contrast to her lover’s weakness. Arthur Dimmesdale is a pale, fragile man with a nervous nature. Hester carries herself proudly, wearing the scarlet letter on her breast but never touching it or drawing attention to it through motion. Others see it because it is in the open, proclaiming her sin. But she pretends not to notice it. Arthur wears his own sin in private, hidden beneath his clothing and unspoken. But he constantly touches it, drawing attention to his breast, even though others regard it as a nervous habit. He broods on his sin in private; while he proclaims to all that he is a sinner, he never names the sinner. Hester never speaks of her sin, yet she carries the brand constantly in the public eye.

“The Scarlet Letter” examines the different ways different people act in the same dilemma. Hester becomes defiant. Arthur becomes frail, mentally, spiritually and physically. Roger Chillingworth, Hester’s betrayed husband, becomes bitter and vengeful; becoming twisted both in mind and body. Pearl is an untamable spirit, acting as she will, letting nothing phase her or distract her from her purpose. These changes are revealed in these characters through various methods. Each character is described a different way, making their natures even more individual, until they seem to leap off the page as living, breathing persons, complete with all the flaws that make them human.

The second was written about Thanksgiving and the war stories of that time of year... 11/27/07

Thanksgiving and “The Scarlet Letter”

For all its joyful toutings of thanks and good will, Thanksgiving can be a living hell as feuding family members are forced together. Then all the grief that has been boarded up for a year is set free and scrap fights erupt, whether with words or cinder blocks.

Sometimes the showdown doesn’t begin until after the meal is over and the turkey carcass lies rotting in the refrigerator. Sometimes it is a few days later, as the party members brood on their hurts that were inflamed by the mere sight of their enemy. Even members of close family who see one another every day can, fueled by mashed potatoes and green bean casserole, find the energy to put the smack-down on their opposites who are equally fueled with pumpkin pie and stuffing. After any show-down, banishment ensues and thus the new hurts are carefully packed away to be displayed at the next Thanksgiving.

“The Scarlet Letter” by Nathaniel Hawthorne provides a vivid parallel for my own holiday war story. It begins with festering. Much like the people murmuring among themselves as they stand outside the jailhouse, my internal thoughts had been restlessly churning. My brothers were being twits once again and their problems, unlike wine, grow worse with age. It had been getting on my nerves for a long time, but that day it just seemed to be worse. The murmuring outside the door was growing louder. The pimple was under pressure. The fuse was being consumed slowly as the flame creeps towards the dynamite. The countdown has started.

It all came to a head when my eldest younger brother spoke to my mother. As he ages, he seems to have acquired a certain quality to his voice. Other boys’ voices crack and then become the deep bass of manhood. My brother’s voice, rather than follow norms of humanity, has become the whining drone of an angry midget trying to reach the public pay phone. It screeches. It moans. It mutters like a faulty car. But this voice’s main trait, brought on by floods of teen hormones, is rudeness. He spews out comments like water in a ditch. A two sentence conversation with him inevitably turns out nasty, no matter what the topic. The voices outside the jail had hushed now. Lester was coming out. The countdown is over.

It began very simply. A request for him to speak in a more pleasant voice when conversing with my mother. It was the squeaking of the hinge and rustle of fabric as Hester begins to emerge. Then he replied and the door was wrenched open. The festering voices had gone silent, but now open hatred spewed from the people’s eyes. My silence had ended and words were about to flow.

We sparred back and forth; me firing off criticisms of his behavior, dragging up six years of my hurts; his defensive thrusts back at me. Insults flew back and forth. The elder was speaking, laying bare Hester’s shame before all. We were stripping away the layers of the onion, looking for the core.

There was a lull and a few other events, after which the second brother joined in. This was more upsetting. He is better at arguing than the first brother and thus it becomes a battle of wits rather than who can scream the loudest. He twisted my words; taking hold of the elephant’s trunk and yanking. I became the enemy, the bad guy, the mustache-twirling villain, as I became a flaming ball of emotion. Hester had had the scarlet letter stitched to her breast.

Banishment followed. Hester is forced to live outside the village. I refused to speak to my brothers for a time and when my mother tried to console me and explain to me, I began to cry and simply became more angry. My mother took my youngest brother aside to explain why I was crying. The little twit seemed to have no idea why I was upset. He blamed me for the whole thing. The scarlet letter was gleaming in the sun of accusation.

Thanksgiving is the time for thanks. My brothers should give thanks if they manage to survive next time.

Yeah, I love "The Scarlet Letter." However, my English class is now reading "The Great Gatsby" and I do think that soon my loyalties shall be changing... *rubs hands treacherously*

Internet and elections...

Lost my election by one vote. *sheepish grin*

Ha. The funny thing about this post is that I already had written it out on paper before I got Casey's comment about internet addiction. :)

The only thing about rewriting is that I can only do it on a computer with no internet - meaning that I cannot write during the study hall I have at school, because all the computers have intranet. High-speed internet no less... (On that note, we just got high-speed at my house. *dances* *whoot!*)

Sooo, all my writing has to be done on my own personal computer - an old beat-up 199? desktop which I love dearly. It's not too powerful, but it will run "Deus Ex" and Age of Empires and its Microsoft Word program is flawless. I am content. When I get to college, I'm going to want a laptop because desktops aren't too portable. But for now, all is well.

Rewriting...

(Hey, before I get on a roll, I'd like to point out the new link on my link list: freerice.com... You go on and it tests your vocabulary. For every word you get right, they donate 20 grains of rice to end world hunger... It only takes a few minutes to get something like 500-600 grains. Do it on your break! Help a hungry person!)

Student elections were today. Voting was at lunch and results will be announced tomorrow. I'm running for president. We'll see what happens.

Finished chapter 2 and part of chapter 3 in my 2nd draft rewrite. *whoot* I seem to be on a roll with this rewriting thing. My New Year's resolution (might as well get ready now) is to finish my rough draft in '08.

Of course, that's while I am currently flying through butchered chapters. Sooner or later I am going to run into actual new writing that I haven't done a draft of before and that's where Writer's Block will rear its nasty little head.

Already I am getting into new writing. My elf's new storyline has been modified and so her first chapter involved a bit of new writing. Not much, and there will be only be a little bit more for a while to come, but it is a foreshadowing of events to come. Bane's entire life has been turned upsidedown and much rewriting is in store as well as a boat load of new writing.

But I am looking forward to it. After butchering 3 main viewpoint charactesr, I am left with only 3 left, which is a much easier number to deal with, as well as a much more managable amount of storylines to braid and connect. After all, a braid normally requires three strands anyway.

It certainly feels good to be able to sit down for an hour and churn out 4000 edited words in one go. It was certainly a rare occurence in my life before these But in the past few days, I had done this about 3 days of 5. Fabulous stuff that. And each chapter with an average of 7 pages. May not seem long, or may seem like the better part of a novel - depends on your writing style - but I even still may have to go back and add in such descriptions as settings, etc. Not many since I am trying out a minimalistic style with enough setting to describe mood and such and only the bare minimum of physical character descriptions. Think about William Goldman's "The Lord of the Flies" or Mark Twain's "Tom Sawyer." Enough character description is given to type the character (Piggy's glasses and weight) but nothing beyond that. Not that I claim to be the next Goldman or Twain, but I know that I at least have my own images of how the character should look, nevermind what the author says. So I decided to let my readers have free rein.

Wish me luck on my election...

I DO actually write...

Here’s the first of my 100 fic challenge series (see link at right): 100 Kinds of Mutts (needs a new title)

(the rest of the series may be found at my profile and works on Fictionpress)

My summary on Fictionpress: Set in a time when an elite class of soldier has been developed. They are perfect: superior to humans in nearly every way. Then one kills a human... and normality goes to hell...

written 11/16/07

001 – Beginnings

“Lidlum, the break room is supposed to be for breaks.”

Charles Lidlum looked up from the stack of folders before him. He smiled a little, pushing his glasses back onto his nose. Peter Scotts fell into a couch with a sigh. His long, spidery frame was bent awkwardly across the cushions. Lidlum was a little jealous. One of the youngest men ever to advance to his position and he still had to deal with short jokes. But Scotts was one of the good ones. The tall man waved his hand at the folders.

“Whatcha got all that in here for?”

“Looking for mistakes.” Lidlum squinted at the carbon copy he was holding. Whoever had written the original had atrocious handwriting and the smudged lines of the copy had made it even more illegible. Scotts laughed. He sounded tired.

“Don’t do it, Lidlum” He had pulled off his lab coat and bundled it under his head like a pillow. His sandy hair drifted over his face. Jealousy nipped at Lidlum again. Handsome was another thing he would never be. Not even if this all worked out the way it should.

“You’ll find one and there’ll be twenty more waiting to jump out and bite you in the ass,” Scotts concluded sagely, his arm draped over his face. Lidlum smiled, but it was a small smile. He had already noticed. For every successful outcome of an experiment, it seemed as though there had been a thousand failures.

He wasn’t interested in the successes: they had what they had. He wanted to make sure that they didn’t make the same mistakes again. Or anything similar. A repeat of the mouse incident would be the downfall of the company. They had warded off the media that time. Lidlum doubted they could do it again.

They had been trying to make mice smarter, so they had been manipulating together mouse and monkey brain DNA matter. It was working fine, except that there were some strange symptoms from the mice. Their toes were becoming prehensile and things like that. Then some idiot that wasn’t paying attention allowed an unauthorized breeding and the resulting embryo was a revolting mouse-monkey hybrid that would have killed its tiny mother had it not been aborted. The DNA mixing technique was declared unsatisfactory and it had been back to square one.

It was an example of carelessness and lack of foresight. Lidlum did not intend for it to happen again. Not with what he had in mind. Now, if only he could get someone to listen…

Life is tough...

With three current writing projects going on, and a fourth that I have to begin soon, plus a comic that I am revamping, I have a lot going on. Add that to highschool and you have a nice little mess. Why am I doing this to myself?

The answer is that I love writing. It is so important to me that I am willing to give up the time that should probably be spent studying or doing homework, and spend the effort to type thousands of words. At least I can type fast.

When I go to the library and lurk in the writing "how-to", publishing guides and grammar sections, I feel exposed - as though I am being watched all the time. It almost makes me feel as though I am doing something dirty. I don't know why. Maybe it's just because it is so different from everyone else... But I plan to change my attitude. I stride proudly into the aisle and emerge with armfuls of books.

Life is tough. Writing makes it tougher. Highschool is toughest. I'm already alive, so I might as well take on some challenges and be different. If everyone were the same, it would be a boring world.

A pox on dial-up and my scribbles...

Yes, I have dial-up Internet service... *gag*

Normally I am fond of the older methods of doing things - phone calls vs. text messaging, fork beating instead of an electric mixer, K'nex Legos and my writing vs. video games. But dial-up is the older, more nostalgic version of Internet service that should be tied up with duct tape, thrown down the stairs and burned at the stake.

Anyway, I am a little frustrated because I left my scribble copy (hard copy that I scribble revisions on in pencil) of "Ocean of Tears" (first book of Ocean of Fire) in my locker at school and so I had to write some scribbles on the hard copy of the chapters with my beta's comments. (*huggles Casey*) That kind of annoyed me, because now I am going to have to transfer those scribbles to my scribble copy so that they are all together in one hard copy. I made the mistake with an older project of having several scribble copies - most of them are lost now... No scribbles for my archives.

Now I am forced to do more scribbles on the beta copy for I feel compelled to do some kind of work and my computer is about to be used by my brother for computer games and so I cannot work on my chapter (I am planning on doing this draft entirely electronically - made the mistake one time of writing chapters on many different surfaces, not all of which made it back to my desk or into a folder... *fumes* Lots of rewrites... Then I had to type it all in anyway so that it was all in the computer... *gag*)

My lovely beta...

I have a beta. For those who don't know (of which there are a great number, so don't feel bad) a beta in writing is someone who informally looks over your work and edits it. It's like an editor, except they don't get paid. It is a very popular thing on Fictionpress and my writing group. (links to both to the right)

My beta is great. I am a beta for someone else and I am nowhere near as good to them as my beta is to me. I can basically point out character flaws and grammar, but they talk about the entire network of the story. I am trying to learn from them for my own betaing career, but it is difficult to live up to such high standards.

I was very fortunate. I sent out a request for a beta in my writing group and they happened to reply. They were the perfect beta for "Ocean of Tears" (of which the first draft is posted on my Fictionpress account) because before my editing spree (*hugs cleaver*) it was a complex braided storyline with 6 main characters - each with their own story to tell. They helped me realize many problems and pointed out no end of writing errors (I wrote most of it when I was younger - about two years ago - so my punctuation was not so good... I love my semi-colons) and had many suggestions as to voice, symbolism and style. Did I mention I love my beta?

And now I have begun my second draft - after much character and story slaughter. I e-mailed part of my first chapter to them, with questions as to whether or not it should be the first chapter, since it started out pretty dull and the style (written based on the character's own style, even though it is third person) was pretty choppy (I was afraid that readers would think that it reflected my usual writing style, which it does not - other characters in the story have different voices). They were brutal in denouncing it, but that is what I love about my beta. They are completely honest and tell it like it is. But they also are quick to praise my good things, in order to spare my feelings of despair in how atrocious a particular chapter might be.

Lovely, lovely, lovely... I love my beta.

I owe it all to you, Tolkien...

Yeah, yeah, it sounds corny and cliche. Who hasn't been touted as the "next Tolkien"? (not that I have) But in all honesty, I really do owe my first serious writing endeavor to him.

Way back when - I was 11 - I read "The Lord of the Rings" for the first time. It was pretty tough, let us say. But the two scenes that really stuck with me after that were the throwing of the heads into Minas Tirith and when Frodo awakes in the secret base to find Faramir standing over him, ready to take him to see Smeagol.

The first was just a scary image, but the second was the springboard of my writing career.

I had written things before as a little kid, but that scene just somehow piqued my muse. I wanted to write a serious story - one that would make people feel the way that I did when I first read that scene. So I did.

Or at least tried to do so. "The Sphere and the Singer" has long since fallen away into the realm of the bottom drawer, though I do intend one day to resurrect the characters for perhaps another project.

But that experience taught me much and now I am at it again with my latest project, "Ocean of Fire." I finished the rough draft on the 7th of September, 2007, and now I am beginning the 2nd draft. O.O

I am one of those people who have been classified as 'blank-pages', 'free-writers', and my own personal favorite (because I made it up): 'flighty writers.' I sit down, without any outlining beyond whatever idea was in my head, and I write. Outlines stifle me, I loathe character charts. I have to start with a blank sheet. Then I sit and write out the entire first draft: no cuts, no revision, no looking back. When I am finally done, I can look back... and usually gag. There are no end to the mistakes and other guck. So now I am diving back in, sleeves rolled up and hair pulled back, ready to tear that garbage out by the roots.

*dramatic silence*

It all began with character slaughter. Several main viewpoint characters fell before my mighty editing sythe of DOOM and story lines were hacked to pieces. Now I stand among the carnage and have to sweep the gore off of a place that I think is suitable to start again. From there, I will have to tunnel through the piles of shattered story material and find those remnants which are still salvagable.

I love this part. I can go through with the mighty red pen and with a single swipe, can delete entire scenes of nothingness and with a few scribbles, can flush a chapter with new life. So yeah, I am understandably excited... *quivers*

Happy Thanksgiving!

Happy Thanksgiving to everyone who celebrates it! And I hope that everybody everywhere else has a great day as well.

My family drove up to my grandmother's house today for dinner, but without me. I am not feeling well and a two hour trip in the car would have killed me. So I am sitting at home, finishing my mom's Christmas present, trying to deal with my crazy dog and watching "LadyHawke" with Matthew Brodrick in it.

Honestly, that is the only movie with him in it that I can stand. I just don't care for him in any other movies. I love his character in "LadyHawke." He's just so lovable. But in, say, "Godzilla," I wanted him to get stepped on.

I have this thing about movies with people getting eaten. Take the Jurrasic Park movies (I watched the first one today also). The kid always survives. Grrr... I wanted all of the kids in all three movies to get eaten. AND, they always eat the guy that I like. The Aussie in 1, I don't remember who in 2 and the short balding guy in black in 3, they all get eaten. I love those guys! Why eat them? But I am okay with Matthew being squashed in "Godzilla" but does that happen? Noooo...

*sigh* I'm pretty bored right now in all honesty. I think I will do laundry or rake leaves or something now...

Read...

I went to the library yesterday and then read something like four books last night. I was on a roll.

Two were excellent reads:

1. "Ghosting" by Jennie Edral. It's a memoir of a writer who wrote under someone else's name. (not like a pen name - the works would be attributed to another person.) It's really interested and has the most beautiful prose. It just felt liquid and airy.

2. "The Eyre Affair" by Jasper Fforde. My English teacher recommended it to me after I told her I had read "Jane Eyre." If you are going to read it, it is best to have read "Jane Eyre" first so you can fully appreciate what is going on, since it is kind of a retelling, but it is still a good read. It's the story of a special operations officer in an alternate universe where literature is taken EXTREMELY seriously. It reads something like "Alice in Wonderland" though not quite so Carrolian. I enjoyed it.

I highly recommend these books. I read a few other books, but they weren't quite as good and therefore not worth mentioning.

I'm getting a little frustrated with my computer. It has decided that it doesn't want to let me use my thumb drive to transfer a type-up of the beginning of my second draft to my other computer. *growl* So now I have to go and retype the section. Luckily it is only about 3 pages, but it is still pretty frustrating. Ah well, such is life, I suppose...

Long time no see...

Well, if you are from Writing.com, then hello and welcome to the new blogging face of the Gryphon. If not, hello to you from months of absence.

I'm sitting in study hall right now and I just wanted to work on this blog a bit before I go back to work on my writing. I'm working on a character profile for Meirzen (a character in my book "Ocean of Tears" which can be found on my FP profile) and am doing a primary story pitch for my comic that I decided to work on.

I started the comic a long time ago (about this time last year) and I am finally bringing it back to life. It is about a girl who is in a coma after having been in a car crash. Because she could either live or die, she is taken "in-between" while she waits for Life and Death to make their decision. There she meets a cast of characters based on the ancient Greek gods personified in animals, along with my own two characters of Fate and Fortune.

So yeah, I drew a bunch of it last year, but then I stopped for some reason (I think exams killed it) and it sat there, waiting for me. Looking over it, it needed some rethinking in the story department and I have restarted it. Yay! Maybe I'll find some way to put in online when I finish it. But that may be a while away, considering my time is also consumed with school work and writing other projects.

Anyway, nothing much more to say... Welcome to my blog!