Okay, so it's just the start of the second week, so it's a little early to be claiming second week slump, but still. I'm working through it, though each day it seems to word count goes up and up. I feel as if I was still in the VERY beginning of my novel, and I guess I am. Dadgum you plot-that-is-so-longer-than-50000-words!
Gah.
Tuesday, November 11, 2008
Tuesday, November 4, 2008
Monday, November 3, 2008
NaNo time!
Whew!
It's official NaNo.
And I love it. Granted, the first day-while I got my word count-I wasn't completely having fun. I think the first day can be the hardest because you just have to jump it, and forgo all reason and just /start/. Sometimes starting can be the hardest thing to do.
Anyway! Everything is changing! My characters are surprising me already, and so far that's a good thing. For example, in the beginning I had the opening scene, and the first time Jade was to see Michael was when he saved her from Seth.
Well, that doesn't make near as much sense as already introducing Michael before he saves her from Seth! (Note, this probably won't make sense to you since you don't know the story:))
Just little things like that. =)
I'm ahead on the word count, and that makes me very happy as I can already see that this will be waaaaay longer than 50 000 words. -shrug- My goal is to get as much done in November as I can, and then set word goals for 25 000 or more each month after November. I really want to finish this by the new year. It will be the first time I've ever written a novel. xD Yes, I did do NaNo last year, but never finished the novel-though I did get 50 000 words.
Anyway, I suppose I should go back to writing-or doing school work that I've been neglecting...=P
It's official NaNo.
And I love it. Granted, the first day-while I got my word count-I wasn't completely having fun. I think the first day can be the hardest because you just have to jump it, and forgo all reason and just /start/. Sometimes starting can be the hardest thing to do.
Anyway! Everything is changing! My characters are surprising me already, and so far that's a good thing. For example, in the beginning I had the opening scene, and the first time Jade was to see Michael was when he saved her from Seth.
Well, that doesn't make near as much sense as already introducing Michael before he saves her from Seth! (Note, this probably won't make sense to you since you don't know the story:))
Just little things like that. =)
I'm ahead on the word count, and that makes me very happy as I can already see that this will be waaaaay longer than 50 000 words. -shrug- My goal is to get as much done in November as I can, and then set word goals for 25 000 or more each month after November. I really want to finish this by the new year. It will be the first time I've ever written a novel. xD Yes, I did do NaNo last year, but never finished the novel-though I did get 50 000 words.
Anyway, I suppose I should go back to writing-or doing school work that I've been neglecting...=P
Saturday, September 27, 2008
Prompt: People only see what they are prepared to see. (09/27/08)
So, I looked and looked, but could not find a prompt! About to go crazy, I finally found a good quote site, and at random, chose one. Hence the "People only see what they are prepared to see."-Ralph Waldo Emerson.
Anyway, I do think that since I haven't written in a while, it'll take me some time to get back in shape. I wasn't even going to post this-it's so bad-but I thought I should. Enjoy. (ha!)
~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~
(September 22, 2008)
Prompt: People only see what they are prepared to see.
Time: 15 min.
Words: 679
“What do you mean?” I exclaimed, my heart beat starting to sped up. “Won’t they-oh I don’t know-see the freaking demon that is five inches from their face!”
His face, infuriatingly calm, turned to face out the window.
“What are we supposed to do, fight them all ourselves?” I could not calm my voice, could not keep the anger out of my mind. This shouldn’t be happening! How could people just be so ignorant?
“You knew what you signed up for.” His voice was soft, and when he turned to face me, I saw the sadness in his eyes.
“But-” I stopped, trying to find the right words. How can we let people die, I wanted to scream out. I wanted to pound my fists on the table like some three year old, yelling.
“How can we just-“
“We won’t be doing nothing, Sieryn!” His voice was curt, and he let out a tired sigh.
“Zoe,” he resumed, using my name rather than my title this time. “We won’t be doing nothing, can’t you see?”
I closed my mouth, unwilling to explain that I didn’t see. That I didn’t understand.
“People only see what they want to see.”
“And that makes them perfect targets!” I jumped in, one fist poised above the table. I was glad we were alone, if we were out in public I would have to watch both my words and actions-something that I felt I was unable to fully do right now.
He gave a soft nod. “Yes, they are the perfect targets. They never see them, they never can fend them off-“
“Which is where we come in, right?” I asked, my voice tired. To work and work, to never stop, to never breath; to fight and fight with all that is within to protect people you’ll never know, people who will never know you.
“Zoe, it isn’t easy-I understand! But this is our job; we are protectors, we are the guardians.” He ran one hand through his golden hair, his piercing grey eyes locking onto mine. “This is our job.”
“They’ll never know us.” My voice had gotten weaker, as the energy died out, acceptance taking its place.
“We’ll fight-perhaps even die-for people that don’t even know us,” I whispered, my gaze shifting to the table, my fist slowly falling down upon it.
“Yes.”
“Why?” I asked, looking up at him. “Why can’t they see?”
“Zoe, people aren’t ready-aren’t prepared. They are unwilling to see what is real, what is right before them.”
“So it’s our job, our job to help them.”
“Yes.”
I nodded, finally accepting what he had been trying to get across the whole day. I realized what was ahead of me, and realized that I could never back down. I would die, I knew that with a sickening certainty, and most likely I would die in some dank, god forsaken alley. Perhaps, just perhaps, the police would find me the next morning; perhaps they would attempt to find out who I was.
Strangely enough they would find no record of me anywhere- the dental records would show nothing. Whatever I had on would give them no clue to who I actually was. There would be no identification.
I would die alone.
The life I had chosen was not what I had thought it was. I had thought it was glory, saving people from death. I had not realized the hardness of it. There was no glory, nothing scared, nothing holy.
I would deal with death, and worse, every day, and I would do so until I died- my death being the finally escape from horror. For I was chosen, cursed or blessed, to protect. Protect people from themselves, as it would seem.
I glanced up at him, seeing for the first time to lines around his eyes. Looking straight into the steely gray pools, I saw in them years of weariness. They were the eyes of someone much older than he, someone who had seen much more than they were supposed to.
They were the eyes of a guardian.
Anyway, I do think that since I haven't written in a while, it'll take me some time to get back in shape. I wasn't even going to post this-it's so bad-but I thought I should. Enjoy. (ha!)
~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~
(September 22, 2008)
Prompt: People only see what they are prepared to see.
Time: 15 min.
Words: 679
“What do you mean?” I exclaimed, my heart beat starting to sped up. “Won’t they-oh I don’t know-see the freaking demon that is five inches from their face!”
His face, infuriatingly calm, turned to face out the window.
“What are we supposed to do, fight them all ourselves?” I could not calm my voice, could not keep the anger out of my mind. This shouldn’t be happening! How could people just be so ignorant?
“You knew what you signed up for.” His voice was soft, and when he turned to face me, I saw the sadness in his eyes.
“But-” I stopped, trying to find the right words. How can we let people die, I wanted to scream out. I wanted to pound my fists on the table like some three year old, yelling.
“How can we just-“
“We won’t be doing nothing, Sieryn!” His voice was curt, and he let out a tired sigh.
“Zoe,” he resumed, using my name rather than my title this time. “We won’t be doing nothing, can’t you see?”
I closed my mouth, unwilling to explain that I didn’t see. That I didn’t understand.
“People only see what they want to see.”
“And that makes them perfect targets!” I jumped in, one fist poised above the table. I was glad we were alone, if we were out in public I would have to watch both my words and actions-something that I felt I was unable to fully do right now.
He gave a soft nod. “Yes, they are the perfect targets. They never see them, they never can fend them off-“
“Which is where we come in, right?” I asked, my voice tired. To work and work, to never stop, to never breath; to fight and fight with all that is within to protect people you’ll never know, people who will never know you.
“Zoe, it isn’t easy-I understand! But this is our job; we are protectors, we are the guardians.” He ran one hand through his golden hair, his piercing grey eyes locking onto mine. “This is our job.”
“They’ll never know us.” My voice had gotten weaker, as the energy died out, acceptance taking its place.
“We’ll fight-perhaps even die-for people that don’t even know us,” I whispered, my gaze shifting to the table, my fist slowly falling down upon it.
“Yes.”
“Why?” I asked, looking up at him. “Why can’t they see?”
“Zoe, people aren’t ready-aren’t prepared. They are unwilling to see what is real, what is right before them.”
“So it’s our job, our job to help them.”
“Yes.”
I nodded, finally accepting what he had been trying to get across the whole day. I realized what was ahead of me, and realized that I could never back down. I would die, I knew that with a sickening certainty, and most likely I would die in some dank, god forsaken alley. Perhaps, just perhaps, the police would find me the next morning; perhaps they would attempt to find out who I was.
Strangely enough they would find no record of me anywhere- the dental records would show nothing. Whatever I had on would give them no clue to who I actually was. There would be no identification.
I would die alone.
The life I had chosen was not what I had thought it was. I had thought it was glory, saving people from death. I had not realized the hardness of it. There was no glory, nothing scared, nothing holy.
I would deal with death, and worse, every day, and I would do so until I died- my death being the finally escape from horror. For I was chosen, cursed or blessed, to protect. Protect people from themselves, as it would seem.
I glanced up at him, seeing for the first time to lines around his eyes. Looking straight into the steely gray pools, I saw in them years of weariness. They were the eyes of someone much older than he, someone who had seen much more than they were supposed to.
They were the eyes of a guardian.
Thursday, September 18, 2008
The beginning of the story..
Okay, so I was driving home one night, when a song by Toby Keith (yes, I like country, get over it) came on the radio. I'm not sure what exactly the title is, but one of the lines "I'm an Indian outlaw.." really caught my attention.
From that one line came a story idea. xD
So, I thought I would post the beginning of the story.
~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~
Their eyes say it all.
They need not even open their mouths, I know what they are to say anyway.
Murderer, they'll cry, hate and fear covering any possible love they might have felt for me.
They'll drive me out, banish me forever, never again to see those I love.
And how can I blame the? I try desperately to find within me the anger I should feel for their actions, but find nothing but emptiness.
Perhaps this is my real punishment; perhaps the gods decided my fate would be an eternity of a void, of nothing. Not emotions, no purpose, detained to wander the desert for eternity, alone.
I wondered if my fate was to die in the wilderness. Why would the gods choose such a fate for one like me?
The question would have no answer, no voice from the gods. I feared most that my death might never come.
For what would be a more fitting punishment than to wander the desert, lost, for the rest of eternity, with his face always beneath my eyelids?
They will cry, they will scream, but none will now my true punishment. For how can they possibly understand my fate, my eternal pain that will be with me for as long as I am cursed to walk this Earth?
From that one line came a story idea. xD
So, I thought I would post the beginning of the story.
~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~
Their eyes say it all.
They need not even open their mouths, I know what they are to say anyway.
Murderer, they'll cry, hate and fear covering any possible love they might have felt for me.
They'll drive me out, banish me forever, never again to see those I love.
And how can I blame the? I try desperately to find within me the anger I should feel for their actions, but find nothing but emptiness.
Perhaps this is my real punishment; perhaps the gods decided my fate would be an eternity of a void, of nothing. Not emotions, no purpose, detained to wander the desert for eternity, alone.
I wondered if my fate was to die in the wilderness. Why would the gods choose such a fate for one like me?
The question would have no answer, no voice from the gods. I feared most that my death might never come.
For what would be a more fitting punishment than to wander the desert, lost, for the rest of eternity, with his face always beneath my eyelids?
They will cry, they will scream, but none will now my true punishment. For how can they possibly understand my fate, my eternal pain that will be with me for as long as I am cursed to walk this Earth?
Sunday, August 31, 2008
Yes, I know, it's been a while. School started, along with marching practice, so I was quite busy. Also the self-doubt that every writer encounters, when you look back over stuff you wrote and think that it is absolutly horrible, doesn't help much in encouraging me to write.
It is also hard to find good prompts! Some prompts are the classical 'prompts' like 'Write about a time you were sad.'
I hate those prompts. They aren't writing prompts. They are essay prompts.
I don't write about my past. I don't write about my future.
I write about worlds that no one knows, stories that will never be told. I write about what might have been, and what may be.
I don't care if people know a time I was sad. I care if they know my characters, and the tribulations that they face. I care about what they take from my stories.
A time when I was sad is not fun. It is boring. A time when a girl is thrown into another world is interesting.
Who wants to write about what they see, what they do? Who wants to read about lives just like your own?
Isn't it more interesting when you read of a person in a totally different place; a totally different life?
They say we dream to envision different alternatives to imagine what 'might have been'.
I write so I can see, touch, and feel what 'might have been', not just think of it. In my story, it isn't 'what might have been.' It is what's happening.
It is also hard to find good prompts! Some prompts are the classical 'prompts' like 'Write about a time you were sad.'
I hate those prompts. They aren't writing prompts. They are essay prompts.
I don't write about my past. I don't write about my future.
I write about worlds that no one knows, stories that will never be told. I write about what might have been, and what may be.
I don't care if people know a time I was sad. I care if they know my characters, and the tribulations that they face. I care about what they take from my stories.
A time when I was sad is not fun. It is boring. A time when a girl is thrown into another world is interesting.
Who wants to write about what they see, what they do? Who wants to read about lives just like your own?
Isn't it more interesting when you read of a person in a totally different place; a totally different life?
They say we dream to envision different alternatives to imagine what 'might have been'.
I write so I can see, touch, and feel what 'might have been', not just think of it. In my story, it isn't 'what might have been.' It is what's happening.
Saturday, August 9, 2008
Prompt: Go forth (08/09/08)
Yay, a recent one! =P
Anyho, this one isn't that bad, I could've kept writing...stupid time-limit. ~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~
Anyho, this one isn't that bad, I could've kept writing...stupid time-limit. ~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~
(August 9 ’08)
Prompt: Go forth
Time: 15 min
Words: 773
“Go forth, my son. It is your time; it is your destiny.”
The words still hung clearly in my mind, the old voice, thick with both emotion and age sang in my head.
I had nodded to those words, my head bowed as a sign of compliance.
It was my time.
My littler sister was the hardest to walk away from. Her dark brown eyes gazed up at me, confusion muddling the innocence that shone forth.
“Why do you have to go, brother? I thought we were going fishing tomorrow…” Her soft, childlike voice spoke as one who had more age than she. She had tilted her head, her dark brown hair falling softly on her shoulders.
“Father will take you to the stream, little one.” I knelt down, forcing a smile to my face, using the nickname I had given her long ago. “I will see you.”
“How? I don’t understand.” Her words were more frantic as I turned to leave.
I hesitated before turning back to face her, pushing every tear away.
“I will be in your dreams, little one.”
Her eyes were not clear of her confusion, her mouth open to say more. I couldn’t let her do that though, I had to leave. Lingering behind was not good, I could miss my opportunity.
This was my time.
I brushed aside the memories, glancing quickly to the sky. Dark blue streaks raced across it, the bright sun was now slowly dieing on to the west. A new one would be born in the morning, following the ancient ritual that had been going ever since the dawn of time.
I too would be following an ancient ritual, one that I half wished I could do without. I was almost an adult, though, and I had to go through the rite of passage that every boy my age went through.
If, and only if, I came back, bearing the marks of the Wise ones, I would be accepted as an adult, and honored man, back home. If I failed, my family would not know me, and the tribe would shun me.
The thought of never seeing my little sister again was encouragement for me to face the passage, no matter how scared I was.
I suppose this is a good place to sleep tonight, I thought, gazing at the meadow I had found. It was small, but the tall grass was soft and comforting against my thighs. Soft, golden light filtered over me, and I could feel the pulse of nature surround me.
This was how it should be. I knew, I could feel it deep within me, resounding with certainty.
I did not do much before falling asleep. I needed no fire to warm me as the cold breath of the Vikarn had yet to sweep over our land. Pulling out some bread from my pack, I slowly chewed it. Closing my eyes, I could see our home. Right now, little Kayana would be getting ready to sleep. Mother would be cleaning everything in preparation for the new day. Father, well Father would be coming back from an elder meeting, his father weary from the long day.
I could not deny the longing that I felt for that scene. More than ever, I wanted to run back home, to bury my face in Mothers’ soft robe, to run through the streams with little Kayana, laughing as she fell down before falling down myself to make her happy.
That would not happen; I could not see home until after I had made the way through the passage. And then, once I finally got home, I would no longer be a child. Instead, I would be an adult, and would assume the responsibilities of one.
Once home, I would find a women, pretty and nice. We would settle down, not too far from my home. Together we would live, two as one, as it has always been. Mother would await the child, as she always did love children.
That life seemed years away from the warm dusk that now stole my thoughts. It was time to sleep; I would need all the rest I could get for the long walk tomorrow. I still had many miles to go before I found the passage.
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