On Baby Chicks.

So, today marks the last day I got to see my baby chick.

Perhaps I should back up and explain. I am in AP Biology. After the AP exam -- which was a couple of weeks ago -- my teacher bought a bunch of newly hatched chicks as a last, fun project for the year. (She does this every year, though only for the AP Bio students.)

Mine was (is) a little Rhode Island Red chick. She slept on my hand, mostly, and freaked out when I picked her up, and was rather antisocial. We had to do an experiment in which we took away the heat lamp from a group of 5 or 6 chicks to observe their behavior, and they were supposed to huddle together; but my chick turned her back on the others and just fluffed out her feathers.

I named her Imogen. "Imogen" is such a... a chic name, an unusual name, one which conjures up a calm, collected hipster. And if my chick could wear glasses and lounge about at some Paris cafe, listening to Imogen Heap (the music band) on an mp3 player, I think she would.

She had (has) soft downy feathers of a gentle red color, except for the tiniest splotch of black at the back of her head, like some artist had to put a finishing touch on this little piece of work. She never attempted to fly, though her wing feathers always looked long and a spotty brown-and-white and ready to feel the wind between them.

We painted their toenails different colors, to tell which one was our own. Since there are at least a handful of other Rhode Island Red chicks, I painted the middle toenail of Imogen's feet a bright pink. Just the middle toenail, or claw, whatever the proper terminology is, on both feet. Not that this always helped, as -- fun fact! Baby chicks are attracted to color, and will peck off any nail polish you might paint onto their nails.

Imogen also had the tendency, as I said, to freak out when I picked her up. There are still thin scratch marks across the backs of my hands, because she apparently felt much safer perched on the thin ledge of my wrist and the back of my hand, rather than safely cupped in my palms. Still, she was a sweet little darling. When I had her safely to the tabletop, she never left my hand, but cuddled into my palms and trembled just a bit, falling asleep and jerking awake at random.

And of course, I wanted to keep her. But I live in a suburban home, one filled with cats at that, and it wasn't really an option. My teacher assures us they will go to farms where they will be layer hens; they are not going to get slaughtered or mistreated. But I still feel kind of bad, because the entire point of the project was to get the baby chick to imprint with you, and then once you get imprinted they get sent away from their human "mother." I can't help picturing little Imogen at some farm, waiting for me to come by so she can perch in my palms and fall asleep in peace, even when she's big and unable to fit in my hands.

Like the relationship with my cats, I just see -- I don't know. A little spark of something, in their eyes, on their face. I like to think every animal is just as capable of thinking as I am, and judges me on my behavior as much as I on theirs. My baby chick is one of these intelligent animals. I think she does love me, in her little chickie way, and that she would want me around for a long time, just to sit in my lap and rest her little beak on the edge of my thumb while she drifts off. And it wrenches my heart to think she'll grow puzzled at my absence, and then maybe she'll get anxious, and then -- eventually -- forget all about me. As strange as she is, she deserves something good for her, even if it's a clumsy teenage girl just stroking her head and cooing at her in that quiet voice reserved especially for baby animals.

I am not entirely sure why I decided to share this post with you, about my somewhat pathetic empathy for a baby chicken, of all things, but I suppose I wanted to offer up a little lesson. Because, you know, teenagers learn some worthwhile morals that others can benefit from, too.

In the end, I think it's not just baby chicks who imprint on you. People imprint on others, too, and I guess sometimes you imprint right back.

Well, you know... Life.

I'm on spring break right now. Yea. Spring Break. Do you know how I've spent it? Watching TV, knitting, petting my cats. I finished the draft of my WIP, so I've put my writing down for this week -- make it truly a break. I haven't even really been reading; I've picked up and put down half a dozen novels since Saturday.

Sometimes I wish I could just-- I just wish I could get out of my house every now and then. I don't have a driver's license, but even if I did, there just isn't much to do around my neighborhood. This is the suburbs: a lot of residential homes, a convenience store within walking distance (though, without money, isn't exactly ideal); there's a Wal-Mart 20 minutes away, and a Food Lion maybe ten minutes from here, and a couple of libraries. Barnes and Noble and a movie theater are also twenty minutes up the road.

But still, I've been to the library this week. I have no money to go to any stores, or to a move theater. There aren't really "parks" around here, except one like half an hour away. And that's like a Lord of the Rings adventure, to go that far. We generally don't like spending a fortune in gas.

So instead, I sit here. I just watched three hours of Bones, on TNT. I ate a bag of popcorn. Colored in my coloring book. Knitted a little. Something heavy and sad sits in my rib cage, like a rock of emotion tying me to the couch. Which sounds a little melodramatic, but sometimes I might as well be tied to the couch. My cats come and sit on my chest, Siamese cats who'll compete to sit up on my shoulders and on my chest. (I think the ones who get stuck sitting in my lap and on my legs are further down the hierarchy. Because, yes, cats do have a social hierarchy -- probably a very strict one, considering how much they claw at each other.)

I've been considering college. And, like a lot of the rest of my life, I fear I'll have to settle for my second best. Actually, between the three I've been accepted to, there are two I'm considering with any enthusiasm. One is a co-ed college, the other an all-women's college. I'd like to go to the all-women's college. I'm planning on majoring in archaeology, which involves hard sciences like chemistry and earth science -- in an all-women's college, I could hope to avoid some of the -- well, men. I took chemistry last year, earth science my freshman year. Sometimes the guys get a lot of attention, even though the teachers -- female teachers -- do their best to get to us shy girls stuck at our little table near the middle of the room.

But of course, the women's college is more expensive. The enrollment is like, $500. The enrollment at the co-ed college is $300. And the co-ed college is close enough to my granddad's that I could live off-campus, cutting down on costs even more. No study abroad. No trips across the country after I graduate this June. At the co-ed, they offer a classics major, too -- that should offer less hard sciences, right? More art history? Perhaps I could take that.

Or, maybe, I could just not go to college at all. My sister and mother have incurred enough student debt without me adding to it. (Actually, I don't think we even qualify for loans.)

Maybe I could get a full-time temp job over the summer, at the factory where my dad works. I could spend twenty years working there, just like him, and marry and have kids and never have any money above a middle-middle class existence, just. Like. My. Family.

Is it so much to wonder, that maybe I want a little something more? To travel, even if it makes my stomach churn in anxiety? To... to be rich, one day, lots of money, and I wouldn't have to worry about whether or not I can afford to go to college, or sit around bored during Spring Break while other students get to go to other states, visit family, go on vacation?

I realize that I need more than a high school diploma to do anything. But a college degree is no guarantee, either, and I don't even really want to go. I am just getting out of the public school system. I don't want to go back into another educational system, one I can't actually afford, even with the rather hefty scholarships they're throwing my way, even if they offer me into their Honors program with smaller classes and more control over what classes I want to take.

If only I could... I don't know. Be free to sit in a library, in any library, and just read what I want to learn for myself. No sitting in hard science classes, where I may or may not get to actually do lab work, depending on what gender my lab partner is. (In an archaeology major, probably a guy. There aren't exactly many who decide to major in it, and I imagine quite a few of them are male, as a lot of science-y jobs are.)

But, of course, life will not fall at my feet and give me whatever I want. I could not go to college, and maybe end up like my brother -- working hard, all day, no flexibility in hours, and at the end of the year get nothing back in tax returns. I could go to college; perhaps I'll be like my mother, who's getting her master's degree in religion, who complains sometimes of male teachers who never give her more than, "It's alright," even when she's spent all day on a paper to perfect it and most of the other guys in her class slapped something together. Spend all day reading and annotating and writing essays, like that's all there is to life -- essays waxing eloquent about one topic or another, no flair allowed.

I know the essays we write in public school. College ones just seem to be longer and more unnecessarily complex. And I am sick of writing them.

But I can't just become a writer. I can't afford to sit around all day and daydream. But I can't stand working my entire life and getting nothing back, or wracking up so much debt I'll be paying it off the rest of my life, and maybe also get nothing in return.

Maybe one day I'll leave the United States, go to... I don't know. Ireland. Russia. Australia. Maybe, while I'm at it, I could grow a pair of wings and join a fairy cult. Because I can't really do what I want, become whoever I want to be, like those well-meaning adults in elementary school tell you. Sometimes, I really can't do anything at all, except sit on my couch. Now it's a marathon of Law and Order: Criminal Intent.

Photography, Colds, and Writing

Thank goodness it's Friday. Truly.

Do you know that annoying person who doesn't cover their mouth when they cough? And not just once or twice, accidentally; people who cough into the air of their room, go upstairs and cough in your living room, and in your kitchen, all over your food...

Yea, I'm talking about a member of my family. My youngest brother -- who just started 6th grade -- never covers his mouth when he coughs, and now the rest of the family has it. Mostly me at this point -- he's had it several days, then my mom and sister fell sick, and my dad, and now me, the girl whose time spent happily locked up in her room serves a useful purpose.

Except now I've been sneezing and my nose dripping; I've been covertly wiping liquid snot-stuff over the sleeves of my jacket all school day. (Yes, and I am one of those people who goes to school even when she's sick, and so gets everyone else sick. We all have our flaws.) My throat
feels like sand has gritted the inside of that tube that leads from your mouth to your lungs. My eyes are sore and sticky, and I haven't slept or showered since Wednesday. Or Tuesday. But I've finally caught up on most of the school stuff I needed doing.

Thankfully, in spite of the Cold from Dante's Inferno,* I have not had a terrible time. I made my first primitive photograph in photography class. Here's the process:

• First, you have to expose a sheet of photo (light sensitive) paper to white light in the dark room. This means positioning it under a machine that looks sort of like a microscope, except it shines down light on the thing you're doing instead of observing it closely. And it means adjusting that machine to the right setting of intensity, making sure the light is focused, making sure the frame of light is big enough to cover the entire sheet of photo paper...
• Exposing takes about five seconds. You position the photo paper beneath the enlarger (so the microscope-like machine is called), position the object whose image you want to make on top of it, and then you turn it on and white light floods the little area of paper. 
• After that, you dip it in a chemical called Dektol (developer), a soapy-like, basic liquid. Basically, it makes the white photo paper turn black, except for the white shape of your object. You keep it there a minute to a minute and a half. 
• The second chemical you dip it in is called Stop Bath. It's a yellow color, because when you transfer the paper from Tray A to Tray B, some Dektol inevitably ends up in the tray of Stop Bath. Stop Bath actually is an acid, so it neutralizes the Dektol. Eventually, as the effectiveness of the Stop Bath wears down, it turns a purple-y color, thereby alerting you to change the liquid. You keep it in this tray for 30 seconds. 
• The THIRD chemical is a smelly (vinegar-like) liquid called fixer. It makes the image permanent. You dip it in there for 3-4 minutes. 
• Finally, you get to rinse the residual chemicals off the paper by putting it in this large, round sink for ten minutes. The water spins around, so it can wash it properly. 
• Then you squeegee it. You lay the paper on a piece of plexiglass, and use this rubber thing to scrape the excess water off both sides of the paper.
• Next, there's what's called a print dryer. It's a machine in which you lay the paper on its flat surface, pull a stretch of worn, warm canvas over it, and lock it into place. You rub the canvas for a minute, unlock the canvas's metal-rimmed edge from the side of the machine, and turn your photograph over to the back side. Then you lock it into place and rub the canvas for another minute.



Found here, via Wiki/CC. This is what it's supposed to look like!

• And voila! Your photograph is ready. As long as you didn't mess up on any stage of the process. 

So, yes, that's the entire process I went through, to end up with a black paper, no image. Apparently, I didn't expose the paper correctly, though my teacher assured me I did the chemical part correctly.

How was that for a story? Well, not really a story. More of an anecdote of how to make it through a class period when you barely know what you're doing. And, speaking of stories, the third draft of my story is turning out suck-ish, thank you for asking. I'm so sick and busy that when I do get a free moment to work on it, I find that I want to sleep instead of write, and nothing comes out onto the paper. (Metaphorically speaking, of course. I type my stories out on my laptop.)

But anyways, for those of you who didn't know, this is how you make a photograph without a camera! It's an interesting experience. Hopefully, I'll make an image next class. And also hopefully, by next class my nose won't be dripping into the water wash.

Hope you have a blessed Friday and weekend! Get better at the things you love, get over sicknesses, and get a proper amount of sleep!

*You know by Dante's Inferno I mean the h-word, right? The devil's homeplace? I just have a ton of trouble including even the mildest of inappropriate words, in both speech and in writing.

Quick Update

My internet's being really weird. I haven't had proper connection in days. So, this is a short post on updates.

For one thing: I actually joined Twitter. *whew* What a big leap for me. I haven't actually been on it for awhile, because as I said, my inernet's hates me. But I did it. (I'm not a technology sort of person. Or a people person. So, joining Twitter is akin to leaping off a cliff for me.)

Another thing: Since I have no internet, I've been writing! Sort of. I hope to reach 84,000 words of my re-worked second draft by the end of February. This is also feels like a cliff jump.

Thank you for voting on my poll! I will try to write more on Wednesdays. In fact, this was supposed to be on a Wednesday. But my internet didn't work at all yesterday, so I ended up writing 3k words and listening to my radio.

I don't know yet, but I might post the link to my Twitter. And possibly my Tumblr and Pinterest as well, but those contain pictures of randomness, art, cats, Doctor Who, bad word puns, and possible-future-ideas-for-stories.

I currently do not know about Monday's book review. Or tomorrow's Follow Friday for that matter, but for different reasons. Tomorrow, I don't know how my internet will be acting; and Monday, because I've been reading a book of cat fairy tales, and ignoring my usual reading schedule. I can summarize some pretty interesting cat stories on Monday, if it comes down to it.

Lastly, I plan on trying to up my reading-and-commenting-random-blog-posts. I know, I take on a lot at once (84k and blog reading!?) but I hope I'll manage it. And, at worst, I'll try again in March. (Not the writing; at that point, I hoep to simply be editing, not rewriting.)

So, please enjoy this pictureswhile I wish you a blessed Thursday. =D

 

 

 

 

(this is a picture of my cat, Nala. Ain't she a pretty Siamese?)

 

 

One Girl's Trash Could Later Be Her Treasure

So, yesterday I cleaned my room. Well, "clean" is an overstatement. "Reorganized" is a better term for What I've Done.*

I have this drawer full of random junk that most people would have thrown out. I tend to keep the small stuff, and I'd set aside a drawer for it, but as I was cleaning yesterday, I found a new place to stick them all. This is a quick list of the more unusual stuff I found:

• 3 empty packets of Trident Layers gum (strawberry/citrus flavor).
• 2 hairbands, one purple and one black, that are as worn down as they can get without breaking.
• 3 plastic Barnes and Noble bags, the ones they hand you your books in. Nothing inside**
• 1 hem from a pair of old blue jeans: cut off when they'd dragged on the ground.
• 2 silky-type scraps of painted cloth: 1 lovely dark purple, 1 lightish blue with purple patches.
• 1 plastic, fake Roman coin. 2 dice, 1 blue and 1 white. 1 (funny-looking) red duct-tape flower.

The sort of junk you keep without anyone asking you to keep it is amazing, when you think of it. I have movie ticket stubs, every school binder I've used since freshman year (I'm a junior now)***, one of those plastic rings they sometimes put on cupcakes, as well as a metal tiger-head ring. I've even kept water bottles, soda cans, marbles, beads, and those paper wristbands they give you at concerts (Acquire the Fire, for me).

Trident Layers, a metal tiger-head ring, and my pitiful duct-tape flower.

How does this relate to writing? I think the point I'm trying to make is that even when you think it's junk, you should collect it. Past me didn't find this stuff practical in any way: I just kept it on a whim. But now, this random junk I've collected is priceless: they represent a memory of something, anything.

Every day is precious. Keeping the little things can help you remember them.

I think I'll label this is as inspiration. Delving through memories of happier or sadder times, turning over old objects and thinking of their past. I think it'd be kind of interesting to see what your characters keep as well. Do they collect old water bottles or movie ticket stubs or plastic bags?

Now, just as advice, I don't recommend you become a true hoarder. You'll have to throw away some things or get buried alive in your own trash. But keeping mementos, memories, little things can really delve deep to that soul you've buried under mounds of chocolate-bar wrappers.

What do you think? Keep the junk or hoard it? Have a blessed day!


*There's a song from Linkin Park called "What I've Done". I love that song. It has nothing to do with this post, just thought I'd mention.
**Well, technically, one of them had stuff inside. A Godiva chocolate bar wrapper and the cover of The Host by Stephanie Meyer. Sad, I know. I don't even like that book, nor did I buy that book from B&N - I bought it from Walmart.
***I used to have binders from middle school too, but I had to throw them away. My room is too tiny to keep them all.


  

On Writing Advice: Acceptance

For my AP Psychology class, I have to do an assignment that involves reading a non-fiction book called Blink: the Power of Thinking Without Thinking by Malcolm Gladwell.

Now, admit it. No matter what genre you like, that is a pretty intriguing title. It is all about the "adaptive unconscious", which is the part of your brain that makes snap decisions based on very little experience. It automatically processes all the information in a given situation and makes a decision on how to act. This means that things like predicting if your marriage will end in divorce or whether or not something is a fake can be found out not within months but minutes.

So I started reading it and answering the assigned questions, and I come across this section that would apply to writing incredibly well, in my opinion.

If you know what improv is, then you'll know how hard it would seem. Making up witty dialogue and a play on the spot; I don't know about you, but I'm more inclined to think about that sort of thing for hours, analyzing the options, the outcomes, and pretty much every possible scenario. Improv is the opposite.

There are rules to writing that lead you to be a better writer, no matter your skill level. It is what keeps writing from being a sticky pile of atrociousness. Well, improv also has rules, and one of these is something I don't see very often in books.

Let your characters accept what is happening to them.

 

I read a lot of books that come across as angsty and vapid because the MCs always complain that this can't be real: The Iron King by Julie Kagawa - the MC thinks that there were no such things as fairies; Stoneheart by Charles Fletcher - the MC refuses to believe in the living statues; and Alice's Adventures in Wonderland by Lewis Carrol - Alice believes this is all a wierd dream.

Now, these aren't bad - in fact, I find Alice endearing. But I find that when characters accept things, it opens opportunities. Who cares if your character is real because she can't accept magic? Make her real and inspiring by taking action.

Of course, no one is perfect. Your characters can have a respite; even Harry Potter didn't believe he was a wizard at first. But Harry Potter gets over his denial pretty quick.

Yes, my drawing skills are below average. The question is, though,

which would you rather read about? The one crying, or the one with her

hands raised in victory?

Let me give you an example. Say Mary (the stick figure on the left) is told she is a witch, and an evil magician is plotting to kill her. She denies, denies, denies. "What? That's crazy. I'm not a witch, There's no such thing as magic. I'm not worth killing." Blah blah blah. When the magician shows up at the door with a gun and shouts that he'll kill her, she starts crying, sticks her fingers in her ears, and says, "I can't hear you! You're not real." You can guess the next part.

Mary (the stick figure on the right) is told she is a witch, and an evil magician is plotting to kill her. She denies, denies, denies. But she realizes that if on the off chance this really was happening, then THERE WAS SOMEONE OUT TO KILL HER. She asks the person who told her she was a witch to train her in this so-called magic, and she realizes that not only is magic real, but it is the coolest thing ever. She becomes a pro in no time. The evil magician comes to her door, waving a gun, she laughs and levitates the gun out of his grasp. She twists it into a knot, and the evil magician runs crying to his mommy.

This is an extreme (and somewhat hilarious) example, I know. But do you see my point? Writing about the first Mary sort of stalled. There wasn't really enough opportunity to let her become the heroine she is in the second Mary. The first Mary was vapid. The second Mary was strong.

Now, this entire post may be biased, because I read and have read a lot of fantasy; if I suddenly gained magical powers, or was turned into a cat, I'd be ecstatic. Others might not be so pleased to grow fur. And denial is a natural reaction: he couldn't have died. They can't be killers. She can't be mentally insane.

But I think a character who gets over their denial and takes action is a character we can relate to and look up to. A realistic character who inspires is always better than just a realistic character.

So, to sum up this post: let your character accept his/her circumstances. It provides amazing opportunities for his/her to grow. Also, this book Blink is pretty mind-blowing. It's not a writing book, but you can probably expect more tips on writing from it.

What do y'all think? Acceptance or denial? Can you think of any characters who irked you because of this?

Follow Friday #13

Feature and Follow is a weekly meme hosted by Alison Can Read and Parajunkee. This week's question is...

Q: Best cover? What is the best cover of a book that you've read and loved?

Ooh, this is difficult. Let's see... here are some of them:

The Looking Glass Wars by Frank Beddor
Just Ella by Margaret Peterson Haddix
The Keys to the Kingdom: Mister Monday by Garth Nix
Gamer Girl by Mari Mancusi
Inkheart by Cornelia Funke
Hollow Earth by John and Carole Barrowman

The covers are lovely to my eye. I don't know about yours, but I especially got caught on Gamer Girl. I'll have to add a new page on this blog of my favorite books with pictures of the cover and a summary. Ta-ta for now, as Tigger would say! (That was Tigger, right? Or was it Winnie the Pooh? Or Cristopher Robin? It's been a long while.)

[EDIT:] So, I took a picture of the covers and here they are! I merged them together on fotoflexer. I know, it doesn't look the best as I'm an amateur photographer/designer at best, but you can catch a glimpse!

Wednesday Writings

I'm so happy, I feel like a puppy! Meep! :D

First off, I finally finished LoTR. There's both a hollowness and a sense of completeness. I'm not completely satisfied with the ending (WHY, Frodo?!) but it's taken me a long time and I've finally put it down.

Second, my copy of Angela Ackerman's and Becca Puglisi's The Emotion Thesaurus just came today:

Taken via laptop-webcam-thingy.

I'm very happy right now. But these aren't what I meant to post about. I meant to post a short spiff, which I shall do in a new post in a couple minutes. But right now I want to revel in my new emotion thesaurus and my finished reading.

Ohmygoodness it lists the emotion, the defintion, body language, mental responses, and internal sensations, and more. Meep! :)

For those who don't know, Miss Ackerman and Miss Puglisi are the bloggers over at THE BOOKSHELF MUSE. It's a wonderful resource for writers. I use it all the time to spark an idea for my writing (on the sidebar, they have lists of emotions, colors, shapes, weather/phenomena... if you close your eyes and pick one, then write a short spiff involving the random thing, it works wonders.)

And this post has officially run out of usefulness. I'm going to happy dance out of your sight for a minute, and then I'm going to post my little spiff.

Monday Apologies

Gah! No book review today, either. I know, but LoTR is taking me longer than I thought. I might finish it by tomorrow: that means it'll have taken me most of July to read. Can you blame me? It's a big read.

But I still feel bad, so I'm going to post a few of my thoughts:

1. I think on Wednesday I'll post a short story of my own. Well, perhaps it's not a "short story" per se... perhaps I'll call it a "sample of my writing". It's not part of my novel, just a short spiff (I think that's the word I shall use from now on) that I wrote, just to write.
2. I think that perhaps on Tuesdays, I shall post myths, fairytales, or research. I like that sort of thing, mainly because the stories of another lifetime fascinate me; and it's always useful to know details and things.
3. I'll write a book review next Monday. That's bring me to a grand total of... two book reviews. Wow.

I still feel really bad, so I'm going to post a picture of my cat, Tenzing, taken via the webcam thingy on my laptop. Isn't he a handsome Siamese? We named him after a mountain climber.

It's very hard to take pictures of Siamese cats, so I provided two. Right now, that same cat is shedding fur all over my laptop keyboard and trying to lick/bite my fingers. Fun.

Thursday Beginnings

I am nervous. And a procrastinator.

See, I've been working stubbornly on an idea for a long time. I written and rewritten the beginning chapters so many times. Over a dozen documents (both wordpad and Microsoft Word) cluttered up my computer. Most had a couple of sentences written in them, so I recycled them in my handy little Recycle Bin (of all my desktop items, the Recycle Bin is my favorite - it's comforting to know I can delete the messy stuff).

Well, I've decided that I'm going to start on a different idea. A more coherent one, that feels... both newer and brighter. But's not Shiny and New, just new.

Unfortunately, I'm a major procrastinator. I have not started to write. In fact, I meant to write this post yesterday (because I prefer posting on Mondays, Wednesdays, and/or Fridays), but I couldn't make myself. So I posted it today, and halfway through writing it, I took a break and ate a snack, before finishing it. That's so sad.

So, I promised myself that if I finish this post and write at least a first paragraph of my New Idea, that I would reward myself with some quality Myth-research. Because I love mythology. Maybe some Norse or Celtic myths! Yay! But first I have to finish.

So this ends my post-update-procrastination. Onward to Microsoft Word! Have a blessed, writing-filled day. :)

Do you like this flower?! I found it in the public domain (from Google, via Creative Commons). It has nothing to do with anything. I just think it's pretty.

FF #6

Feature & Follow is a weekly meme hosted by Alison Can Read and Parajunkee. This weeks question is:

Q: What drove you to start book blogging in the first place?

Honestly, I haven't really been blogging about books... but I started blogging about writing because I would read other blogs that really helped me. I started blogging on my own to help get my words/experiences out there, just like they did/do. (I'm not sure where I found those first writing blogs. Possibly on Inkpop before the merge.)

As for books, now I think I will, simply from this question and the sheer number of book blogs that I follow. Now I'm excited about it - over the weekend, I'll mess about with the blog and add a rating system and other stuff. I'm thinking of devoting Mondays or Wednesdays to a book review. Any comments or suggestions?

Have a blessed Friday and keep writing! <3

Friday Favorites

This week has been lazy. I've only read one book - Eona by Alison Goodman, the sequel to Eon - but I did spend a lot of time daydreaming and looking at pictures. Also, I've been writing more, almost 1,000 words daily.

Here are some highlighted pictures:

As for quotes...

"Either write something worth reading or do something worth writing."
~Benjamin Franklin

"He who does not understand your silence, will probably not understand your words."
~Elbert Hubbard

"The one thing that doesn't abide by majority rule is a person's conscience."
~Harper Lee

Again, not much worth writing about. I'm kind of sad at my lack of progress, actually. I've written 4,000 words in 6 days, which is a lot for me but still feels like I could've written way more. But life moves on, no matter how long you lay on the couch watching Monk and House.

Friday Favorites

I'm posting this and the Follow Friday seperate this time, because the Follow Friday is focused on way more.

My week has been pretty lazy. I read books and blogs and I lay on my bed and daydreamed. As well as the normal necessities of life - eating, sleeping, using the bathroom. Overall, I haven't really done anything productive, except for my chores earlier this week and going out once to see Brave.

What did I read this week? I've mainly read Eon by Alison Goodman. Or should I say reread? I decided to read a second time because I recently got the 2nd book, Eona. I love this series so much - it's a perfect blend of Chinese/Eastern mythology (especially of the dragons, and the New Year's cycle of animals), and of an epic high-fantasy world.

I came across this awesome quote the other day, which really got my brain a-working.

"Books are like mirrors: if a fool looks in, you cannot expect a genius to look out."
~J. K. Rowling

So true! Anyways, here are a couple others:

"The greatest minds are capable of the greatest vices as well as the greatest virtues."
~Rene Descartes

"When governments fear the people there is liberty. When the people fear the government there is tyranny."
~Thomas Jefferson

"Our deeds determine us, as much as we determine our deeds."
~George Eliot (Mary Ann Evans)

I did some research on wikipedia about the last name there, May Ann Evans or "George Eliot", and it turns out she was a novelist during the Victorian Era in England. According to wiki:

Mary Anne (alternatively Mary Ann or Marian) Evans (22 November 1819 – 22 December 1880), better known by her pen name George Eliot, was an English novelist, journalist and translator, and one of the leading writers of the Victorian era. She is the author of seven novels, including Adam Bede (1859), The Mill on the Floss (1860), Silas Marner (1861), Middlemarch (1871–72), and Daniel Deronda (1876), most of them set in provincial England and well known for their realism and psychological insight.
She used a male pen name, she said, to ensure her works would be taken seriously. Female authors were published under their own names during Eliot's life, but she wanted to escape the stereotype of women only writing lighthearted romances. An additional factor in her use of a pen name may have been a desire to shield her private life from public scrutiny and to prevent scandals attending her relationship with the married George Henry Lewes, with whom she lived for over 20 years.

I find it amazing that a woman during the restrained times of this period could find the audacity to write more than what was expected of her. I've never read her books, but just the fact that she'd publish under a guy's name to avoid being stereotyped is an indication that she was a real-life heroine of her time.

That is pretty much it. I'll just post a couple pictures now.

(I know - Pirates of the Caribbean, Harry Potter, and Doctor Who, all in one post. I am so proud to call myself weird!)

Wednesday Writings: On My Thoughts

I have realized that I never plan these posts out. I just write, and hope y'all are inspired by the randomness that threads itself across the screen.

Do you ever stop to think of the reality of publishing? The reality of your words, in the minds and hearts of other people? It sometimes overwhelms me to think of the subtle, powerful ripple that is made through a population when a new work of words becomes popular.

I think that language/writing is the most mysterious force in nature - how two words with the same meaning can have different connotations; how these meaningless sounds we make somehow have meaning. It's more powerful than birth, or death, or love. It ties us together in a way that those forces cannot accomplish alone.

As writers, we hope our words tie people together: we hope we can tie a reader to a fictional character, to create a bond that withstands anything because one of the two isn't real. We want the babies of our imagination to be loved by other people.

When I think of my writing, and of being published, I don't imagine me being the next Stephanie Meyer. I think of my book, worn with love, squashed between louder books on a library shelf where a lonely little girl will see it and read it and escape reality another day. I see some future English teacher passing out my book to a group of bored students and saying, "Of the big boom in literature of the 21st century, this work is considered among the greatest because..."

Am I worried that the fantastical story of my heart will drown in the sea of paranormal romance? Yes. But do I wonder if my work will be one of those that becomes popular after my death, and then lives for generations? Yes.

I love words. Simple as that. And I wish to share it with the world, even though I've never felt like I belonged with the swearing, skin-showing, people who are looking for love. Because I don't do any of those things. But I wonder if there is some hidden girl out there, who is asexual like me, who is conservative and quiet like me, who thinks like me. And that distance has kept us apart, but if I publish my writing, then maybe she won't feel so alone.

I'm sorry if this bores you, or if you are mystified by the lack of coherent thinking on my part. The point of this post is to express why I love writing. Do any of you ever wonder about any of this? Do any of you feel like this? People are crazy, and emotional, and I can only hope that they can understand each other, like I am asking you to. I don't understand why I felt the need to wander and wonder, but here you go.

(To be clear, this is honestly how I think. I am only sixteen, and I do not drink, or get high; I am just random/crazy/deep sometimes. I don't know what I think of you if you jumped to the conclusion that I am drunk/high, but I can reassure you that I'm not.)

Monday Minute

I had an awesome weekend! I went to see Brave with my sister - it was wonderful! I love accents and magic and mythology and strong heroines and... well, pretty much everything else. :D

I don't really have anything planned. I'm not even perfectly sure why I'm posting this. I'm just a little hyper on lack of sleep (the Brave movie ended about midnight last night) and that feeling you get after you've done something productive (which was just halfway cleaning my room without being told).

So, here is a video of a song I've been obsessed with for the past few days, and some pictures from Tumblr:

Which concludes my randomness for the day. Yea, I love Disney a lot. I love a lot of things a lot. :)

Friday Favorites + FF#2

FF is a weekly meme that is hosted by Parajunkee and Alison Can Read. The basic rules are:

1. Follow thte hosts' blogs and create a post answering the question.
2. Follow other people's blogs.
3. Link them to this post so they can follow you.
This week's question:
Happy Father's Day! Who is your favorite dad character in a book and why?

1. Mo from Inkheart by Cornelia Funke. He's such a laughing, book-loving, nomad father. He loves and protects Meggie through the whole series.
2. Uncle Garrow from Eragon by Christopher Paolini - you got to give him credit for raising Eragon like his own child. And I thought his death was so tragic, because his nephew couldn't save the only father figure he ever had (except for Brom, of course!).

3. Bob from the Keys to the Kingdom series by Garth Nix; he raised both Arthur and the other children, even though not all of them were his. Quite a few were adopted or his stepchildren, but he loved them all the same, thouhg clueless about Arthur sometimes.

4. Gaia's dad from Birthmarked by Caragh O'brien, who actually died, but I think he deserves a mention. Gaia remembers her dad throughout the book; he was a fun, laughing kind of dad who loved his daughter and his wife very much.

Those are my answers. And my favorites this week:

I read A Conneticut Yankee in King Arthur's Court by Mark Twain this week, which took most of the week. I found the large sections of Ye Olde Speak hard to follow. Overall though, it was entertaining up until (but not including) the end.

As for quotes, I found a few wonderfully simple ones:
"Everything you can imagine is real."
~Pablo Picasso
"Why fit in when you were born to stand out?"
~Dr. Seuss
"A library is infinity under a roof."
~Gail Carson Levine

"We are all apprentices in a craft where no one ever becomes a master."
~Ernest Hemingway

And the last is a couple pictures from tumblr. (Or possibly deviantart or photobucket. But mainly tumblr.)

That's it for this Friday. Don't forget to follow and comment! Have a blessed weekend! <3

Monday Musings: Soundtracks

 

I know I'm not the only one who sang this song in their head. ^.^

I missed the 100th FF meme... :'( It's been a hectic weekend, and I just plain forgot. But now, it's the last week of school (I only have to go one more day, on Wednesday, for two exams). I can relax a little. (By the way, the two pictures - well, picture and gif - come from tumblr. Just to let you know.)

Today is a short post. It's about soundtracks, if you couldn't tell.

Some people listen to music while they write. Or they're inspired by a song, and madly scrawl the idea down before tackling the first draft. Some pick songs as that whole "THAT-FITS-PERFECTLY-WITH-THE-STORY-I'M-WRITING". My brain's a little scattered right now, so my wording needs refinement, but you get the basic drift.

As for me, I don't always listen to music while I write. I find it distracting, especially when my favorite song is on and I'm listening to pandora. Pandora also raises the problem of flipping through your stations to try and find a distracting good song. So instead, I settle listening and writing seperately. But I find a lot of inspiration through the songs when I do listen. The emotion and the sound in the songs, and the lyrical poetry... sometimes, it helps me find motivation to write. When I want to tear the proverbial paper to shreds (as my work is on my computer), then I listen to music, and I can feel the words in my heart again.

As for a song that fits my novel, I don't know. It's more of a segment of this song, some lyrics from that song... it's a crazy patchwork quilt, except my quilt is covered in patches that are so different in size, shape, and color that I don't know how I keep it all together. That's the bare truth.

What about you? Do you listen while you write? Have you a perfect song that fits your novel?

 

I think that was "Fifteen" but I can't remember...