RTW: The Bad Guys Have It

First off, I'd like to acknowledge the fact that I'm blogging again after almost a two week break. It felt like forever. Now, on to the fun stuff!

Welcome to our 88th Road Trip Wednesday!

Road Trip Wednesday is a ‘Blog Carnival,’ where YA Highway's contributors post a weekly writing- or reading-related question that begs to be answered. In the comments,you can hop from destination to destination and get everybody's unique take on the topic.


We'd love for you to participate! Just answer the prompt on your own blog and leave a link -- or, if you prefer, you can include your answer in the comments.

This Week's Topic:
Who are your favorite literary villains/antagonists, and why?

This is actually a lot harder than I thought it was going to be. For the most part, I tend to dislike all villains and wish them fiery deaths of volcanic proportions. But that's just me. However, there happens to be one villain in particular that manages to make me feel all tingly inside. And not just because he's so very good looking.

Who is this dashing fellow, you may ask? Well, it's none other than Mr. Darcy from Pride and Prejudice. Why is he a villain? Let's recap. At first Elizabeth is all "He's too snobby." So he is a villain.

Next, he becomes not-a-villain, for which I'm lacking a word, when Elizabeth begins to like him because he understands her in a way that no one else can, and their witty dialogue is somuchfun.

That un-villain status changes when Elizabeth thinks Mr. Darcy is a vile man after coming to the conclusion that Mr. Darcy was behind separating Jane and Mr. Bingley. That idea was compounded by Colonel Fitzwilliam's slip about Darcy saving Bingley from an "imprudent marriage." Also, she'd been listening to Mr. Whickham's testimony of Darcy's inherently despicable nature, so it's no wonder she didn't think very highly of him.

Image via Wikipedia

Me? Marry you? Am I being punked?

Of course, all of this back and forth between villain and not-villain is great sport for Elizabeth. She loves it. So it isn't that much of a surprise that she again changes her mind about him when she accidentally meets him while on a tour of his home, after her outburst and refusal to marry him based on his behavior. His change in demeanor takes her off-guard. So, she feels tenderly toward him. Not villain again!

More stuff happens, he does her family a good service, but somehow along the way, they don't know it was him, so of course Mr. Darcy is still a villain to most of the Bennets. It's a wonder the poor fellow didn't just give up.

After another bout as a villain, though undoubtedly less of one than he was at the beginning, Mr. Darcy ends the novel as a hero.

For this magnificent bi-polar villainy, I thank Jane Austen. Well done, madam.

And Mr. Darcy lives on in our hearts as the ultimate bad boy turned gentleman.

RTW: From My Eyes to Your Eyes

Road Trip Wednesday is a ‘Blog Carnival,’ where YA Highway's contributors post a weekly writing- or reading-related question that begs to be answered. In the comments, you can hop from destination to destination and get everybody's unique take on the topic.


This Week's Topic:

Share some images that inspire your WIP(s).

I've always been a highly visual person. Whenever I study for a test, I have to make tests for myself to take, then make note cards of the things I missed, draw diagrams of the material (even though it might just be vocabulary), and on top of all of that, I draw pictures of my notes. How? Well, I don't know. I just do. It happens. Anyway, I have to admit that I do draw inspiration from images for my WIPs. Here are a few!

The first image is of Mobile Bay from a pier in Fairhope. It's so beautiful and makes me want to write about life on the water, and whenever I look at it, I feel at peace. It's nice fodder for my often crazed brain.

The second image is one I took from my back porch. The pecan trees frame the night sky and the tiny crescent moon. Quite lovely. It's one of the images that sparked my foray into my Science Fiction WIP. I'm always looking at the sky, whether it's during the day or at night when the moon and the stars are looking back at me. Sometimes I'm lucky enough to have my camera so I can attempt to capture the feelings of freedom and longing that I get in those moments when I feel like I might float away.

When I graduated from high school, I was lucky enough to be able to go on a trip to the gorgeous British Virgin Islands with my family. I don't remember exactly where I took this picture (but according to the time stamp, I know for sure when it was taken.) I do recall how I felt when I did take it though. I felt so small and insignificant in comparison to this gnarled old tree that loomed over me. I was hot, probably tired, and it shielded me from the overbearing sun, while still allowing light through its foliage. The light that resulted reminded me of Heaven. I can't explain it better than that. In many of my WIPs, I mention trees and this is partly because I have a strong connection to trees and nature. When I was growing up, my parents could always find me in a tree when it came time for dinner. I was raised to appreciate the outdoors, to hunt, to love trees, to enjoy nature, to see the beauty in creation. I can't stop loving trees any more than I can stop breathing. Wow, I said 'trees' a lot. Good thing I love them.

I think that one common thread in these images has to deal with their relation to my heritage. I'm a member of a family with deep ties to all things Southern, and I've lived on the Gulf Coast my entire life, so perhaps I take some things for granted, like living on the beach. But when the Deepwater Horizon Oil Spill happened last summer, my pristine world was sullied. These hands represent the hardworking people who pitched in to return the coast to its former condition and to save the endangered wildlife, and in a bigger sense, they represent the best in all of us. The oil does double-duty also as itself and the darkness in the world that we can't seem to escape. It's just important that we keep trying despite being covered in it. Many of my WIPs deal with this theme. Man, I get chills just looking at that picture, don't y'all?

Thank You, LZ Granderson. You're My Hero.

As a member of the retail sales industry, I have to deal with a lot of crappy stuff. Unloading tons of clothes that I want to buy but can't afford to (but I buy anyway), horrible hours and short breaks, and the list goes on. However, I've come to discover that the worst part of being a semi-public servant is dealing with the people. Customer service, something I used to think I was awesome at, has become torture.

Why?

Johnny, please stop screaming. We're trying to watch American Idol.

People, and to be more specific, children, are brats. But really, are any of you that shocked? I shouldn't think so. But every day when I go into work, I have to remind myself that I have to be nice to these kids because their parents are going to buy them stuff. Of course, then I get bitter about it as the day goes on because the parents buy those brats stuff when they should be spanking the crap out of them.

Hey, it's not just me, folks, that thinks this way. You all think it at some point. Kids are out of control these days. When I was growing up, if I even looked like I was going to throw a tantrum near somewhere public, you can bet I was going to get a butt whooping when I got home. I learned my lesson early in life to be respectful of adults and act like an angel in public. My parents got so many compliments from strangers as a result of my and my sibling's good behavior when we went places. Reason: we were disciplined and we aren't "emotionally disturbed or conflicted" as a result of it. We turned out great. In fact, if kids aren't disciplined properly, I figure they're going to be the ones who are messed up. How do they know right from wrong if someone doesn't teach them and show them there are consequences?

I found this article by CNN contributing writer, LZ Granderson, about this very topic today, and it made me feel good about myself. Maybe I'm old fashioned, but sometimes I wish I could  just make those parents who don't discipline their kids see how much harm they are actually causing them in the long run.

Also, as a future teacher, I don't want to have to deal with students who don't know how to behave. So parents, please don't be selfish. Spank your kids. They deserve it.

RTW: Flavor of the Month

Road Trip Wednesday is a ‘Blog Carnival,’ where YA Highway's contributors post a weekly writing- or reading-related question that begs to be answered. In the comments, you can hop from destination to destination and get everybody's unique take on the topic.

We'd love for you to participate! Just answer the prompt on your own blog and leave a link - or, if you prefer, you can include your answer in the comments.

This Week's Topic:
(Back by popular demand!) What's the best book you've read this month?

The best book I've read this month? Somebody give me an easier question.

Do WIPs count? Because I would totally say one of Kelsey Sutton's WIPs completely hooked me and if she doesn't finish it, I will surely die of not knowing what happens. The end. (And I hope she reads this and feels compelled to finish it. Yes, I'm looking at you, Kills. Right at you. But seriously, finish that rewrite of the other WIP first.)

But as for published books (which I know that WIP will be someday), I have to say that the best I've read this June was States of Confusion by Paul Jury. And watch the video that his name links to. It's great.



I don't usually read memoirs, but this one was hilarious, and I don't say that lightly. There were moments when I was reading it that I almost choked on my own laughter. Surprisingly, that can be done. I was planning on doing a more in-depth review of the book next month after my book review of it was published in the upcoming July issue of The Vanguard, but might as well mention it now.

Well, that's all for this Road Trip! See y'all next week!

RTW: Burn, Baby, Burn! Oh Wait, I Need These Things!

Road Trip Wednesday is a ‘Blog Carnival,’ where YA Highway's contributors post a weekly writing- or reading-related question that begs to be answered. In the comments, you can hop from destination to destination and get everybody's unique take on the topic.



This Week's Topic:
The house is on fire and you've only got time to grab five things. What are they?

Oh boy, oh boy, oh boy. I've actually thought about this before and come up with a great solution to being able to only grab a few things, but first I'm going to do a list of the items I must have.

1. Laptop
2. Harry Potter books
3. Cellphone
4. Bartlett's Familiar Quotations

Image via Wikipedia

She's totally BA. Which is why I want her bottomless bag.

5. My pillow

Now, as you can see, books are included. I would have liked to be able to get all of my books, but seeing as my entire room is a library, I don't think I'd be able to. Sad, I know. I would totally cry like a little lost baby in a supermarket if a fire actually happened and all of my books were lost to the flames.

Since I live in a state of delusion some of the time, my solution to this problem is to steal Hermione's handbag so I can put all of my crap in there and have a portable library. However, at the moment I'm dwelling in "reality" (which may change at any given moment) and I realize that Hermione could probably prevent me from stealing her bag.

In comes Plan B. My five duffle bags. Aha! This is how it goes. There are five duffle bags in my closet, for when I need to move large quantities of my stuff, duh, and coincidentally there are five people in my family! Voila! Problem solved. I just fill those bags with all of the stuff I can't live without, and then there are my five "items" ready to be saved from a house fire.

I'm a genius, I know this. Please, leave your praise for the end of the post. I do have a small head that could use some growing, but I'm not quite done with my answer.

Since I have five duffle bags and the requisite person-power to carry them, I have another, longer list of things I would save from the hungry flames.

1-5 The same as first list.
6. Strange Angels series.
7. Jane Austen complete novel anthology
8. Douglas Adams "
9. Tolkien collection
10. Wand
11. Shakespeare complete works
12. Printer
13. Dvd collection
14. Tv
15. Wolf fur blanket
16. Any other books I can cram into bags

Well, I think that's it. I'm actually bored of this post now, but I feel like I'm forgetting something important...books, laptop, wand...oh well, I'm sure I'll actually remember whatever it is if there's an actual fire.

Calm down; I can't read what you're saying over your adjectives.

I shouldn't have to say it, but somehow I feel the need to state that when I read a book, I want the experience to be a good one. Now, I often find myself in the situation that requires me to read things that aren't particularly up to my standards. That's okay. The authors are in 10th grade and haven't quite mastered the ability of cohesive writing yet.

I can't even say that I've mastered that art yet. Hey, I'm honest. It's in my DNA. As I was saying, when I pick up a book or someone says, "Hey, you like books, read this one. You'll like it. People do stuff and it makes you laugh," I expect that book to at least entertain me long enough for me to finish it. Goodness knows I've had to struggle through some books, but I'm not here to discuss them.

I'm here to discuss some authors' use of language, and to be even more concise, their use of diction. I can hear your brains whirling trying to recall the exact definition that your 11th grade English teacher drilled into your adolescent brain all those years ago (or not depending on your age.)

Diction = word choice. Some people, like myself, use a fairly average vocabulary in their day to day lives with bursts of dollar words to keep other people on their toes. I've been told too many times in my short life that I need to speak in "simpler" terms because the people in my life can't understand me. And that's okay. I understand where they are coming from, and I've simplified for their benefit with only a few slip-ups now and then after reading an Austen novel.

But, when I'm reading a book, I follow a certain set of expectations. I like it to be well-written (duh), to use terms most people will understand, and to keep me entertained. It's not a list that should scare any authors.

I do not like to read novels that feel like a giant info-dump right into my brain, or that require me to slow down my reading pace in order to understand what's happening. I look on books like those as tragedies. Sadly, there have been a number of tragedies in recent days.

The tragic tome that sparked this little reflection was an excerpt from a book (I won't name it or the author) and the overwhelming use of adjectives and adverbs. It really threw me off when I first started reading it and that is something that isn't easily done. I've been reading on the college level since I was in grade school. At first, I merely tried to adjust my mind to the fact that I was getting deluged with tons of sensory details. Way too many. Then I realized that it wasn't just the diction and syntax that was off, it was the style as well.

I'm not normally one for nitpicky things when it comes to an author's delivery or writing style, but as I was reading, I couldn't help but be slightly nauseated by the blatant "telling" that the author was doing in the story. Sure, it's in first person, but when the reader is told every few paragraphs that the MC went through something big and that was why he or she was the way he or she was, it makes the entire plot tedious.

So very tedious. Honestly, I couldn't even get through the second chapter. There was so much more that I could have commented on, but...I don't have the energy. I just want to know this:

How the hell did that person get that book published in the first place?



Addendum:
I totally went and found out the answer to my own question before posting this blog entry. Self-publishing. *Le Sigh* For the love of all things written, people, please do not self-publish your books unless you are a very good editor or you have an agent (which means someone in the business actually thinks you can write and your book might be good) and you've exhausted all other options. Otherwise, just...don't do what that author did. I'm begging you. My brain folds are still trying to recover. I'm not making any guarantees, it's too early to tell, but I think I may be allergic to adverbs. Or bad books.

More Potter, or is it Pottermore?

The end of the dedication for Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows.

Attention all Potter fans! I don't know how late to the party I am or not, but J.K. will be making a huge announcement in 3 days, and I'm not ashamed to admit that I squeeeeee'd when I found out. It's about something called Pottermore. No one knows what it is...and it's frustrating.

There's a YouTube countdown going on right now (here) and the gathering owls are making me more excited! Because whenever the owls gather you know something big is going to happen!! Squeeeeeeeeee!!!

Calm down. Caaaalm. Okay. I'm good for now. Whew. As to what the announcement will be, or even what Pottermore is all about, I haven't got a clue. A troll would have a better guess than me. I'm really horrible at guessing games. Always have been.

But, I do know that it will be awesome. If it's Potter related and J.K. Rowling has got her golden hands on it, it can't help but blow my mind and the minds of Potter fans everywhere. We're a super loyal crowd. I even have a Deathly Hallows tattoo to prove it.

But that's enough about me and my obsession with all things Harry Potter. Pottermore is rumored to be an online community for Potter fans. I don't know how that will work, maybe like Facebook or MySpace? I have no idea. But if you're a fan, just keep your eyes open for J.K.'s announcement.

Until then, stay magical!!

Happy Daddy Day!

Image via WikipediaFor a while, my favorite movie was Daddy Day Care. I still quote parts of it, like "I missed." "What do you mean, you missed?" "I missed." *cue scary music as Eddie Murphy looks in horror at what "missed" meant for his wallpaper*

I still can't help but chuckle at the thought of three men trying to take care of the demon spawn that some of those kids were. It's hilarious. The entire movie is, in a way, a testament to the fact that daddies do exist and can contribute to their children's well-being.

While I know that there are exceptions to everything, I can't help but be grateful that I've had my Dad to count on my entire life. He's been a great role model, and although at times he can seem to be a little overbearing, I know it's just because he loves me.

Thankfully though, he's pretty cool most of the time. I like to think he's a mixture of Mr. Weasley and Tim "The Tool-man" Taylor. (He looks a lot like "The Tool-man" in my opinion.)

It's funny now that I think about it, but Mr. Weasley is the only literary dad that I can actually think of. There has to be more. Maybe I'm just having early-morning, caffeine-deprivation block. If y'all can think of any more, let me know. I'd appreciate it!

Happy Father's Day to all those dads out there!!

RTW: Try This Hat On For Size

Well, I think it's only appropriate to get back into the swing of blogging by doing a YA Highway: Road Trip Wednesday, don't y'all?

This Week's Topic:

You're re-reading one of your favs when someone asks the dreaded question: "What's that book about?" Give us your best off-the-cuff blurb of any book, any genre, and have your readers try to guess the title in the comments!


The Pitch:

A girl is from a family famous for doing big things and always fighting the good fight. When she finds herself in another kingdom, she has to keep everyone she knows in the dark about her family's illustrious history while simultaneously using her own set of unique skills to aid in a rebellion against tyranny. Oh, and she has some help from some pretty cool creatures/beings/people.

Well? Name that book!

It's Not What You Think

It's worse.

I'm way too busy for a person who likes to be...not busy. Non busy? Un-busy? Whatever. The fact remains that my schedule looks like I've taken a bunch of other people's lives, chopped them up into irregular pieces, tossed them at a calender, and then hoped for the best.

Actually, that sounds like something I could handle. Right now I'm toeing the line between not knowing what day it is and wanting to murder some tourons (tourists+morons=tourons.)

So far I've managed to come out victorious in my battle against giving into said temptations that would land me in the poky. I do this by rewarding myself with Yoohoos and dill pickle chips. I might have to step it up to ICEEs though for the rest of this weekend. Memorial Day brings all kinds of folks out of the American wood works.

I might get more sleep in the slammer...

I've had a little time to write; cue my WIP ADHD and you have no progress on the WIP I should be working on. *looks fretfully at Word document*

But that's okay. Summer has only just started even though it feels like I've been out for a month. Oh wait. I have almost been out for a month. Weird. Anyway, I've been in a sort of time stasis because of my brother's high school graduation, my jobs (I have three now, woohoo!), and the fact that summer classes start on the 30th of this month.

At least my sister is turning 16 in a few weeks. That way I won't have to be her chauffeur the rest of my "break." Somewhere amidst those various activities, I'm going to have to schedule in some time to write. My typing fingers are getting anxious.

I feel like this post doesn't really have a point except to confirm the fact that I'm still alive and kicking. Don't worry, I haven't actually kicked anyone in a while. Mostly I just swing one leg back and forth as I'm leaning against the counter at work (and trying not to snap that last thread holding my sanity in check whenever someone asks me, "Do the restaurant beepers work in here?" or "I'd like to see that purse." *points to the purse on the top shelf so I have to go find the step ladder in the furthest corner of the stockroom and then after having me take all the stuffing out of the purse decides she doesn't like it because the inside isn't 'pink enough'*)

And I'm not bitter at all. Really. *eye twitch* I just have allergies.

To tourons.

So...how's it going in the blog world y'all?
 

They Will Not Rue This Day (Hopefully)

Alright folks. It's come to my attention that I should bring it to y'alls attentions that I'm no longer just a writer. No, I'm far worse than that: I'm now an editor.

Dum, dum, dum. To be precise, I'm an an editor on my university paper, The Vanguard. To be even more precise and even slightly neurotic, I'm the new editor for the Life Section of the paper! Feel free to squeal with me. I've already forced awkward, bony hugs on my family and even my sister's friend who happened to be present when I attacked them after finding out the news.

It was a huge shock to their systems, let me tell you. I'm not one who often shows outward emotions or expresses excitement with shrieking hugs for everyone within a 20 foot radius. No. I'm more the strong, silent type. Although I have been known to do a mean happy dance in public (to my sister's shame) so perhaps it was only a matter of time or stimulus.

Whatever the case, I am so excited that I just had to announce it to the blog world. And now I can sleep in peace. G'night folks! Have a great weekend and don't forget about the auctions going on over at the Help Write Now and ALL4ALABAMA blogs! The tornado-affected areas are still in need of our assistance. Thanks!

Another Chance for a Portrait, and to Help a Whole Town!

Hello again! It feels like I just did this only yesterday...but here I go again.

If you haven't already participated or even heard about the auctions going on in the blogosphere to help the victims of the recent rash of storms in the South and other parts of the country, here's your chance to get in on the action and bid on a charcoal portrait by yours truly! My fellow Bama writers are doing a magnificent job of getting people from all over involved and I'm honored to be included in the auction.

So there you have it folks. That's my update of the day. Now go bid on something fantastic and get your karma meter realigned! Good deeds do wonders for the complexion too. (I can keep these sayings coming all day but I think y'all get the message. I have such smarties for Internet neighbors.)

I Just Wanna Go Home

Hello peeps. I know, it's been a while. It's nice to type at y'all again too. Anyway, on to the first and only order of business for this post. Recently I had the fortune to be hired as a lab assistant at my university's education department and by far the best perk of the job--other than having the job in the first place--is the iPad. Yes. I just said iPad. Each lab assistant is issued an iPad or iPad2 and I'm no exception.

After taking the APTT last Saturday (another order of business for an entirely different blog post), I was given my iPad and told to play with it all summer so I could become "acquainted" with it. I didn't fight that idea, as you can imagine. So, with iPad in hand I hurriedly drove my little self home so I could commence the acquainting.

The first day was glorious. I even missed an important and very much scheduled Skype date with my writing buddies (shout-out to Tiger and Kills!) because I was so infatuated with the giant iPhone device.

Sadly, my joy was short-lived. The morning following that first day of jubilant screen-touching and iBook downloading started off rather different than I'd intended.

The Home button didn't work. I couldn't go Home. (I am now going to channel Dorothy for as long as I can stomach it.)

Initially I was slow to comprehend what was happening, so I pressed the Home button again with an air of innocence that soon disappeared when the screen remained as it was. I frowned and scratched my head. I pushed it again. Same non-reaction.

Don't get me wrong, I liked the screen I was stuck on, but I can only watch so many YouTube videos before I get a little cross-eyed.

I'd only had the iPad one day and it was already broken. Great. This is the girl that has had the iPhone numero uno for over four years and never had to have it replaced. It's still in near-mint condition. My luck was bound to change at some point though, right?

So, fairly soon after I discovered the lack of Home button response, I spiraled through the five stages of grief.

Denial: "This isn't happening. I'm dreaming again. Pretty soon I'll start fighting monkeys and singing opera in a cow costume."

Anger: "Of course this would happen to me! Of all the people to give a messed up iPad, it had to be the person least likely to angry about it or smash it to smithereens!"

Bargaining: "Come on little Home button! You can work! I know you can! Who's the good little Home button! I'm just gonna press you now and I know you're gonna work, huh? That's right!"

Depression: "It won't work. I give up on life. Technology hates me. I should just quit school and join the circus. I'd be a great attraction: the girl who sucks at life. Yeah."

Acceptance: "There has to be a reason for this, other than I broke it. Oh wait...look here on the internet! Other people have the same problem! I'm not alone! I didn't break it! It's only temperamental!"

So there you have it folks. Drama at it's best. But for real, the Home button issue is a problem that a lot of iPad users are encountering, at least according to the blogosphere and even Apple has addressed the issue in their own technical way. Supposedly it's only a software issue, but I'm not really up on the legalese of the matter so I can only hope it's fixed sooner rather than later. I'd like to be able to go from screen to screen without rebooting my iPad every time I need to go to a different thing.

Unfortunately those blueprints for the time machine didn't pan out...

Okay, So Blogging Has Resumed

Alright, now that the whole Blogger "fiasco" is over, I can post things again. Power! Muahahaha!

As it is, I have some news to announce. I donated my services as a portrait artist to the wonderful auction going on over at Help Write Now, and the highest bidder was Mandy of The Well-Read Wife!

I hope to begin working on either a portrait or a book trailer for Mandy, and I'm so thrilled that she participated in the relief effort for those affected by the tornadoes down South.

Okay, well that's all for today. I survived finals week so maybe later I'll do a Post-Final Post. Haha. That title is funny...it's a word anagram. I amuse myself with what I think of.
Anyway, I also have this really cool story about a dream I had last night and also the APTT. Those are forthcoming as well.

It's Official, I Now Know How to Work the Library

Image via WikipediaLaugh all you want fellow writers and readers, but up until today (at 12:31 p.m. to be exact) I had yet to set foot in my campus library.

(Shocked silence followed by the dying screams of readers everywhere.)

No really, it's true and I have a very good reason.

I didn't need to. Okay, well, that may not be a good reason, but it's all I have. Be that as it may, I am no longer a campus library virgin. That doesn't read right...anyway, I am fully capable of finding books and operating the library search engine to find said books' locations. I also know how to work the elevators so I can get to the third and fourth floors. All you do is push a button. Who knew?

I've also made a wonderful new friend. I don't recall his name, but he was very helpful when I spotted him at the reference desk and proceeded to shock him with the revelation that I didn't know how to work the library. His subsequent reprimands (he was old so I didn't mind him making fun of and scolding me) were followed closely by a tutorial in all things "library."

So here I am. Writing this blog post from the comfort of my not-so-comfortable carrel in the LB section of the 4th floor. I have a few books next to me and I'm debating whether or not to check them out since I've found them to be immensely helpful with my paper and my future career as a teacher. Helpful is always a good thing, unless someone is trying to help you die or help you fail a test, and then they're just being meany-heads and deserve to be taken out back and slapped a few times by the Hulk.

The only bad thing about the library is the lack of refreshments. They don't letcha eat "smelly food" or have "spillable drinks." I find that insulting, not to mention restrictive. What if I promised not to spill my potentially spillable drink? No. The answer is no. Believe me, I asked my helpful little old guy, who coincidentally thinks my name sounds literary. I took it as a compliment, not as an insinuation that I sound fictional. Although if I had to be fictional, I quite like the way my life is turning out except I would get God to rewrite me a bit taller. I always wanted to be at least 5'8". I might have a chance at playing in the WNBA that way.

All this talk-writing about food has made me hungrier. And this would be the day that I didn't pack my non-smelly granola bar. That means I have to leave the wonderful sanctuary of the campus library. I'm sad now. It's open until midnight tonight because of finals. That's one good thing about finals week I suppose. I can't think of anything else.

Well, until next time...pray that I can find my way out of here and back to my dorm before I starve!

Auction for a Cause

I have already written a longer post on the tornado disaster, but this is just a post to let y'all know about the Help Write Now Auction going on at this moment to raise money for the victims in the areas devastated by the storms. The ladies who came up with the project are angels and I just want to send them a huge thank you!! They deserve monstrous high-fives and other such congratulatory things.

So, head on over to the Help Write Now blog, just click on the icon or the link in the paragraph above and follow the bidding! You can bid on some awesome stuff, like homemade jewelry or query/manuscript critiques from some awesome people. There is something for everyone and all the proceeds go towards helping the storm victims. I even donated my services as a portrait artist or book trailer producer, so bid on me when they put me up! Here's an example of my work.

Keep the families affected by the storm in your prayers! God Bless!

Strange Angels: A Series in Review

Cover of Strange Angels (Strange Angels, Book 1)
I've been meaning to write this post for a while now. For the past few years (I think it's years…my memory isn't what it used to be), I've been following author Lilith Saintcrow's series Strange Angels. For the purposes of this series, she goes by the pseudonym Lili St. Crow in the young adult bracket. I like it. It's a great move considering she's already well-known with the adult paranormal audience for her Dante Valentine series. (Another series that I adore, but this review isn't about Dante.)

My first brush with Saintcrow's writing style was through Strange Angels. At first I was merely intrigued by the characters and their conflicts. Dru Anderson is vivid, complex, and interesting to read. The other supporting characters, Graves, Christophe, Ash, Shanks, Dibs, are just as well-rounded and exist to pull you further into the story of Dru's crazy life.

However, it came to a point where I was rereading the books that I had and waiting impatiently for the next installments. It's the closest I've ever come to Pottermania level fandom since, well, Deathly Hallows came out. And that was in 2007. I still can't believe that. Anyway, what I'm trying to say is: something about Saintcrow's young adult paranormal series has grabbed me in a vise grip.

It's like I've become stuck in the gaze of Christophe. I'm frozen, and after reading Defiance, which came out in April, I'm even more involved in the world Dru inhabits.

I don't think I'm doing the books justice. Hmm, how can I say it? It's one thing to read the books and love them, but it's quite another entirely to actually be able to use words to describe them accurately. For all I know, I'm completely mangling Saintcrow's work. Forgive me, madame.

Strange Angels is a tale of coming of age. It's a punch-in-the-gut type of book. And each of the consecutive books following it—Betrayals, Jealousy, Defiance, and soon to be published, Reckoning—are of the same vein. Our society is inundated with vampires and werewolves, I admit it, but Saintcrow takes a unique approach that I found refreshing. I'm trying not to be a spoiler, so forgive me if I sound overly vague.

Yes, there is romance, but thankthegods, Saintcrow doesn't bludgeon her younger readers with it. She introduces it naturally and keeps it flowing believably. And I cannot stress the believably part enough. The books deal with some dark stuff, it's true. Yet, it's never overdone or drug out endlessly for pages. The snappy pace of the novels is an additional emphasis on the flit and blur of the violence portrayed. It adds to the atmosphere—speed, darkness, fur, teeth, kicks, blood, pain, guns, flashes, light, death.

Images are vital in the books and blend with the witty dialogue into a miasma of well-ordered chaos.

Choices are a crucial theme, and something that all teenagers—who are the targeted audience—can relate to. Dru doesn't always make the best choices, but she makes the ones that she believes are right at the moment. Consequences do happen, but it's how she deals with them, with determination and grit, that makes a reader empathize with her. Certainly, she isn't perfect, but then again, neither am I or you for that matter.

Friendship. Courage. Resilience. Independence. Those are Dru's guiding lights. In Dru, you can see a character that is believable despite the knowledge that she couldn't possibly exist in real life. That is perhaps why I love the books so much. They're fun to read and trick me into falling in love with a fictional character (just try not to love Graves. I dare you.)

So there you have it. A series in review. I probably missed a few of the points I wanted to make because I got distracted off on a tangent, but hopefully I hit most of the main ones. I hope you give Strange Angels a try. You won't regret it. 

Sidenote: Yes, there is some PG-13 language and if this were a movie trailer, I would have included that in the warning at the beginning. As it is, I wasn't overly bothered by the cussing and whatnot, but then again, I'm a fairly tolerant individual and if anything bothered me I just skipped over it. So if you are upset by the f-bomb and JC's, I suggest you either don't read them or suck it up. I replace those "naughty words" with happy words or phrases like "Oh schnitzel!" or "Fricassee!" But it's up to you, dear reader. The language itself lends the dialogue a more modern, dark, and troubled air, as it is meant to. Dru isn't on a picnic with her besties trying to catch fireflies in mason jars. She's fighting for her life. I can forgive her for cussing when someone tries to kill or seriously maim her. I'd cuss too. 

50 Cents an Inch? Jackpot!

My addiction has struck again. This time I feel like I had the upper hand. Let me give you some background. I buy books. I read them. I clutter my room with them. If you looked at my checkbook (not that I actually keep up with the balance), you would see that one out of every three purchases has been at a bookstore. The other two are coffee related buys. Yet another addiction I haven't had time to deal with.

Today though, I came out of my book buying spree victorious and only $8.50 poorer. And I bought fifteen books, including an illustrated, hardcover, 1936 edition, The Complete Works of William Shakespeare in fairly good condition. I giggled like a psychopath when I found it in the stacks of books for sale this morning. I couldn't believe my luck. It only cost me a dollar. One of my other prized finds of the day is a 1913 copy of Jack London's Before Adam, also hardback and in a little worse for wear condition, but not anything I can't handle with care.

Where did I find these literary treasures? My local public library. They were having a 50 cents an inch book sale today and tomorrow, and being the addict that I am, I couldn't resist going. It was a gold mine. I'm going back tomorrow just in case they put new ones out. I've got the shakes from the anticipation. Just writing about the books I might buy is exciting.

I also want to mention the delightful find that my grandmother bought for me as a surprise. The Story of Roland by James Baldwin, printed in 1930, I believe. It's wonderfully illustrated and smells like adventure.

If I ever garner the amount of followers that would lend itself to a contest, you can bet I'll hold a contest (redundant, I know) giving away a book from my increasing collection. Believe me, there are many books in my room that I'm sure someone would love to get their readerly hands on. I have to build another bookshelf--and by build, I mean get my sister to build it for me--just so I can house these spectacular purchases.

One book that I didn't purchase at the book sale but rather at my local bookstore, is Defiance by Lilith Saintcrow. I'm going to read it today, and I'll be back tomorrow with a review and my comments on the book and series as a whole. I'm sure it won't be a repeat of the City of Fallen Angels fiasco.

At least I hope not.

Until then, have a great weekend and please keep the tornado victims in your prayers!

Those aren't Stars Falling on Alabama...

I don't know how many of you have heard, but this week has been just plain horrible for people in the South. The massive storm system that birthed the Mother of all tornadoes--that in turn spawned her own monster babies--ripped apart the state and left over 200 dead. The death toll is expected to rise.

I hate numbers.

I just ask that y'all keep us down here in Alabama in your prayers. I was blessed to live below the danger zone this time and my family is safe as well, but there are a good number of people who just lost everything.

It's hard to imagine what they are going through. Shock. Denial. Pain. Agony. Fear. Hopelessness. Sorrow. The list of emotions could go on and on. I just pray that those of us left unscathed will have the courage and compassion to help those who did not.

Because you never know when something like this will happen. It's unpredictable, as nature always has and will be. Sure, we have our weather men and women and our radar maps, but they can't prevent these things from happening anymore than I can predict the winning lottery numbers.

Seeing the pictures on TV was jarring. I'd just been in Tuscaloosa in December. My cousin had graduated and we had lunch at his house in one of the student populated neighborhoods similar to the ones that were flattened by the tornado. All I could keep thinking was, "He could have died. I'm so glad he finally graduated and lives in Illinois now. He could have died."

And then I realized that I had friends in the other areas hit by the storm, and I checked on them. Thank goodness they were okay. One of my friends said he saw the tornado go past his dorm.

This disaster is...well, disastrous. It's heartbreaking. And the most terrifying part of it is knowing that it was an act of nature and thus unpreventable.

Hurricanes are something I'm well-acquainted with. I'm used to the danger of 100 mph winds and blinding rain. I know to board up my house, fill the tubs with water, and hoard supplies a week in advance of the storm. Hurricanes are easy to prepare for. They don't just appear out of the blue.

Tornadoes do. You can't prepare for a tornado a week in advance. They don't give you time to gird your loins. You have to find a closet, basement, or a bathtub in less than ten minutes and sometimes without any warning at all.

It's just indecent, but there's nothing we can do about it other than pray and take care of each other in the aftermath. So, I urge all of you who read this to donate to the Red Cross. They are only accepting monetary donations at the moment, but once the areas hit by the storm have been thoroughly combed, they will start to put up lists of items that they and the victims need.

If you pray, thank you. If you donate, thank you. Anything--no matter how small--helps.

God bless.

RTW: They Can't Live without the Tunes

Road Trip Wednesday is a ‘Blog Carnival,’ where YA Highway's contributors post a weekly writing- or reading-related question that begs to be answered. In the comments, you can hop from destination to destination and get everybody's unique take on the topic.

This week's YA Highway Road Trip Wednesday prompt is:
If your WIP or favorite book were music, what song(s) would it be?

People ask me all the time what kind of music I listen to. I don't know why they want to know, but somehow my answers never seem to be consistent. One day, I'll be in a country mood and rocking out to Taylor Swift. Don't judge me; that girl can belt out her heart like nobody's business. Have you even heard Haunted?

Other days, like today, I'm more in the mood for soundtracks. The one on repeat on my iPod at the moment is Deathly Hallows part uno. It's so beautiful.

As for my WIP's, well...they're pretty much the same way. I tried to make playlists for them, but they kept changing. I don't know if that's a bad omen or something good. I hope it's good. For the most part though, I have noticed that I tend to follow a pattern songchoice-wise.

For one of my WIP's, which shall be left unnamed at the moment, the actual story idea sprang from one song by 30 Seconds to Mars. Night of the Hunter. It's spooky and compelling and I was suddenly struck with the image of someone who was cursed yet felt responsible for the world. Someone as old as time, but vulnerable to her own thoughts. Someone created out of an evil purpose, but rebelling against her creator. Someone...someone who hunted the night.

The story arc itself follows the MC as she struggles to maintain a semblance of who she wants to be as she fights demons both external and internal. At times, because I felt a need to lighten the story up, humor surfaces and a song like Beautiful Disaster by Jon McLaughlin make things seem less dark. Although that song isn't too overly positive now that I think about it. It's the tone I think. Oh well. I don't think I could lighten the story up anyway, haha!

The romance involved in the WIP is part Beautiful Disaster and Assassin by John Mayer. Although, Assassin is more the song the male MC embodies. Actually, they're pretty much both Assassins of each other. It's a strange dynamic. As it's supposed to be.

Other WIP's have less dark soundtracks. Man, this is a long response. I need to end it before I list all of the songs I've ever listened to while writing. That would take years.

Anywho, what songs do you think about or listen to when you write? Or read? Anything in particular, or are you a song whore like me?

Mayhem Monday

Image via WikipediaMy day started out fairly well. I texted my Mom, "Me need coffee. My room is cold again," and she brought me a cup of Joe in all due haste. She makes good coffee. (In case you are wondering, no, my Mom is not my slave. She likes to feel useful and I like to give her ways to be useful. It's a win-win. In other words, she likes it when I text her as she's about to get in the shower and ask her to make me a cup of coffee even though my room is only twenty feet from the kitchen. Yep.)

Then, after such a great start, it started to go a little less sunny. And I mean that literally. I haven't seen the sun much today at all. It makes me sad. We're such good buddies. I'm also trying to work on building my base tan back up before Summer starts, but so far I've only managed to go from Corpse White to Partly Pasty. I still have a ways to go, and today didn't help.

I know none of that seems mayhemy, and you'd be right, but we're about to get to the darker stuff, so hold your britches.

Over the weekend I developed an all-consuming new addiction to rival my former addiction to coffee. Yes. It's strong in the Force all-right.

I'm talking about...

the Words with Friends application.

I know, I know. How could I? It's so easy to resist something so small right?

Wrong! Once you send your first word, you're hooked for life! I haven't been able to stop playing the Scabble-like game all day! I played it while I was walking the half-mile to class today, and I almost got hit by a car on the crosswalk. This app addiction is going to get me killed.

Even my own sister has said I need to slow it down. It took her too long to play a word today and I shot her a text message telling her to "Word Up!" and she said, "No, not now," and I was like, "Yes! NOW!"

...And she did. (Now who's strong in the Force?)

It's been said that Words with Friends is a gateway app (I said that), and I believe it. I get mad when the advertisements come on and I'm tempted to purchase the full app so I wouldn't have to deal with their interruptions while I'm considering my letter tiles.

I just have to ask...am I alone in this addiction? Is there a cure? (And do I even want to be cured?)

Sharing Saturday #1

Image by xalamay via FlickrI've decided to start a "thing." It's going to be a regular occurrence on the blog, most likely on Saturdays. I think I'll call it Sharing Saturday. This "thing" will be me sharing an excerpt from something I'm working on. This first post is from a W.I.P. that I call Hard Knocked, and it's from the perspective of one of the main characters and he's describing the character that the book is all about. Enjoy!

I could see Jena Winter tense like a jungle cat about to pounce after she had been talking to the person on the other line. The change in her posture was strange to witness. When I’d first come in to the bar, I was afraid I’d been wrong about her.

The stories I’d heard, gleaned from my sources in the smoky bars and badly lit motel meeting places, all seemed to indicate that Jena was someone you didn’t mess with if you wanted to stay alive. Or even have your body found to be buried.

But after having her threaten me and then seeing the transformation, I knew I was on to something. How to get to the truth was another something that I was afraid to find out. She scared the shit out of me, and she knew it.

With her back turned to me as she whispered into the phone, I had a better chance to look at her without getting caught in her wintry blue eyes. All the stories said she had demon eyes, eyes that could freeze a man in place so she could do what she wanted with him.

Her eyes were like shards of sky-blue ice, and I don’t think I’ve ever seen anyone with hair as blonde as hers. If I didn’t know any better, I would say Jena Winter was some forgotten fairy of old made of the stuff of ice and winter, and designed to inspire songs and stories about her frozen heart.

But I’m a historian, not a novelist or a poet. I write what’s true, and I think that Jena lived up to her surname quite well, but that some of it was an act. I’d seen the way she’d looked at the slipping foamy head and it was like the fond look of a mother to her child. Miss Winter had a heart, and it wasn’t completely frozen.

Muuuuuurder With a Side of Spoon

Sometimes I really love my cousins. Especially when they can act out this entire ten minute video about spoonicide. He kept me entertained for a good five minutes with his version, and he's only twelve. He has a future in something. What is anybody's guess.

Now watch this video. It's hilarious in that sick way that we all love so much.

RTW: Let's Get to the Kissing

Image via WikipediaAs usual, the gals at YA Highway manage to find topics and prompts that I can't help but respond to. So thanks. So very, very much. This week's Road Trip Wednesday asks us to compare our first kiss with the first kiss of one of our favorite characters.

I thought this was going to be easy, but it turns out it isn't. Okay, so I'm blushing. Why am I blushing? Let's just say I'm not one to air my personal business. I think I'll start with my favorite character's first kiss.

Dadgumit. Now I have to choose a favorite character. Think, Bailey, think...aha! Got one!

And the winner is...Harry Potter! Yeah, I know. Y'all could probably see that coming a mile away. Harry's first kiss was with Cho Chang in the Room of Requirement. While my first kiss was not in nearly so awesome a place, although I wish it was since that would mean I was at Hogwarts, it was with someone who I consider very cute.

My first kiss was on a holiday and Harry's was near a holiday, so we have that in common. Sort of.

The best way my first kiss differed from Harry's was that mine did not end in tears. Thank goodness.

Anyway, that's about it. I wish I had a more entertaining story to tell y'all but my first kiss was pretty normal by literary standards.

Space Dragons FTW

Twitter is just about the best thing to ever happen to me. I follow people and I get links to awesome stuff.

Like this post Six Signs You're Not Ready To Make A Living As A Professional Writer. I laughed until I threw up. Okay. Not really. I just liked that line. It has a nice ring to it.

Plus it conjures up some really disgusting mental images that multitask as hilarious. Anyway, thanks to a Tweet by Lilith Saintcrow, I found this blog post and I was entertained for a few minutes.

And then it stopped being funny. Why?

Because those are some legit reasons, neighbors of mine. And they scared the spit out of me. They're just so honestly true. I don't think any of those reasons apply to me (except for the times when I claim to have "writer's block"), but I still recognized that he wasn't kidding.

Sure, the whole post was funny and I laughed like a loon, but there was an undercurrent of truth that I couldn't miss. It's sobering to hear these things from the blog-mouths of professionals. You can't shrug the points off.

Since I've just gone off on a rather depressing tangent, I'm going to leave y'all with this. Enjoy.

RTW: Scars Make Me Feel Dangerous

Prompt from the delightful mavens of YA Highway!

What is the story of your best scar?

Scars make me feel dangerous...

When I'm really not. Actually, the only way I could be classified as dangerous is when you include "to myself" at the end of the word. You see, I have this 'disorder' where I find myself inexplicably drawn to running into random objects and coming away in less than original condition.

Think of me as an unmanned bumper car. Or a bumper car driven by a drunk or a monkey. Maybe even a drunk monkey.

Thankfully, I don't have too many scar stories to tell that wouldn't involve some sort of fabrication or dramatization of the actual events. If I were my sister on the other hand, I'd have oodles of scar stories to tell you.

She has the bad habit of running into barbed wire on a four-wheeler, falling off four-wheelers, and just plain rotten luck with falling and hitting her head in general.

Although, I can tell y'all about the time where I got into a fight with my school locker and came away victorious with only a small scar to show my valor...

For a while I said it was from a fight with my pet seal, but people started to doubt that once they realized civilians aren't allowed to keep seals as pets. I had to scale back the flair and it ended up me fighting my possessed locker which hit me over the head making me retaliate with slamming it shut in an act of passion.

Of course, it got its revenge later in the day when I came to get my books once again and somehow it materialized a switchblade to cut me on my right arm. Yep. I still have the scar to prove it. Needless to say, I didn't expect that to happen and from that moment forward I knew to give it some respect.

You don't diss on the locker, yo. It's just not done. Not if you want to stay in one piece and see your books ever again.

Well, that about does it for this Road Trip Wednesday. See y'all next week!

City of Fallen Angels, And How I Lost My Mind (Spoilers!)

Cover via AmazonI repeat: SPOILER ALERT!!

First, I'd like to say a sad farewell to my sanity. It was nice while it lasted. I hope we can still be friends. Maybe I'll text you a few times a month to check on you. It only seems polite.

Second, I just finished City of Fallen Angels by Cassandra Clare.

...

WTF!!! I don't often use such strong acronyms, but Holy Publishing Industry!! I can't hold it in!!

Why are you acting so messed up towards the fourth installment in the Mortal Instruments series, Bailey?

Haha, funny you should ask, neighbors of mine, but I have a few good reasons, and none of them contributed to my sanity remaining in the same zip code as myself.

(SPOILER ALERT!! JUST IN CASE YOU DIDN'T BELIEVE ME THE FIRST TIME!!)

When I first clapped eyes on City of Bones, I was like, "Well this looks pretty awesome. I bet I'll like it." I was right. I'm hardly ever wrong about that sort of thing, except of course for the times I am, which is another series of stories all-together. But back to my past.

Oh how much I wish I could go back in time, slap my younger self, and say, "You better be careful what you wish for Younger Me. There'll be some heartache for you in the future. So put on your big girl panties if you wanna ride this roller coaster."

Of course, if that had actually happened, I'm pretty sure me and my sanity would have parted ways much sooner. As it is, my roommate is seriously alarmed at me at this moment, because as soon as I read the last four pages of the book (SPOILER!) I immediately shrieked like the banshee my parents always said I was, and screamed, "WTF! I'm not reading this! It can't be happening! WTF!" And a few other expletives that don't have nice little acronyms that I feel like typing.

Anyway, (as you can see I'm only using emotional SPOILERS) I freaked. Up until those four pages I was okay with the book. I'd even recommended it to one of my coworkers who had read the others in the series. She saw me reading it and asked me if it was new and I was all, "Yeah, and it's pretty good too. You should read it."

And she said she would.

GOOD GRIEF!! DON'T READ IT TAYLOR!! You'll only have your heart ripped out of your chest and then flung in your face like trash...

If I could type my tears, I would. I just have this one thing to ask Cassandra Clare:

Why...why for the love of Sweet Baby Jesus did you have to end it like that? Do you not know that your readers like having the bad guys die and stay dead? We LIKE it. A lot. In fact, I would like to venture to say that I LOVE it. (Okay, I know that was two things, but can you blame me?)

I also love the love in the books. Especially the love between Jace and Clary. Now, I know you have to keep us hooked, and goodness knows I won't be able to stand waiting for the next book so I can find out if you finally kill the little bastard. But please...please, I'm begging you. Just don't do it again.

I don't think my roomie could take another scaring like she had a few minutes ago. I'm pretty sure she's never heard me cuss before, and the shock might have jarred her immune system. If she gets a cold, it's on you Cassandra. I'll send her doctor's bill in your general direction.

That's it. I'm done. I can't take this anymore.

I need some aspirin and a whole box of chocolate, STAT.

If this hasn't scared you away from City of Fallen Angels, then you are truly a worthy reader. I admire your courage. Go read, you little self-harming people you. Read like there's no tomorrow.

Which there isn't.

Because City of Fallen Angels ended my existence as I knew it.

And that may or may not be a good thing about the book. Or a testament to Clare's skillz. With a z. I gotta end this post. It's trying to take over my blog. 

Drip, Drip, Drop!

Image via WikipediaLittle April showers!

Alright, now that I've gotten that out of my system, I can get to writing about the topic of today's post. Inspiration.

Last week, or sometime in the past, I wrote about dry spells and how they just make us feel icky. It's horrible being a writer stuck in a slump. We know we should be writing, but the words...they just won't come.

I had this crazy imagining once that I could somehow coax the words out of my head with treats and if that didn't work, I'd beat them with a stick. Of course, that's all in my head, but still, the fact remains that dry spells are no fun.

As you no doubt have seen, it is now the wonderful month of April, and people everywhere are breaking out the antihistamines as they get outside and enjoy the marvelous green beginning to cover the world. It's nice, isn't it?

With April came a shot of inspiration. ZINGA! One night I was just sitting in my bucket chair watching country music videos and being all nice and tired, and then it hit me. An IDEA! I hurried to my computer so I could type it all up before the idea flew out of the window. By the time I finished, I was exhausted and yet exhilarated.

It had been a while since anything remotely creative had made it through the great journey from my head to my keyboard, and I was super excited. So there you have it. Dry spell over.

It's amazing how that can just happen in a snap. One second you don't have anything to write about, and then the next, after you've taken a bite of nachos, you have so many scenarios running through the streets of your noggin that you don't know how you're going to get to them all.

At least, that's how it works with me. And it isn't always when I'm eating nachos. Most of the time it happens when it's least convenient to me. Like when I'm in the shower or driving my car. Or taking a test. Or giving a speech. Or asleep.

But suffice it say, I'm happy now. I didn't like myself with no inspiration. This new me has my respect again.

Until next time...dance in the rain! (Or not, considering you might catch a cold, which would suck.)

RTW: The Future

For this YA Highway: Road Trip Wednesday, we were asked the following question:

Assuming we make it through the 2012 apocalypse, what do you imagine the publishing world will look like 100 years from now?

Hmmm. Good question maestras of YA Highway. If I had any ability to predict or see the future, I might give this a decent shot. As it is, I do not.

But, since I like to think that I'm pretty creative and just an overall good-guesser, I'd like to hazard a guess and say,

"If 2012 arrives and I'm not sucked into a vortex of fire and brimstone, I think the publishing industry in 100 years will be a lot less 'peoply' and a lot more 'roboty.' That is to say, I believe AI will take over the world, but I hope by then to have created my own robot army that will protect my cryogenically preserved body until the fountain of youth is discovered. Hear that Captain Jack? Get on it. Maybe this time you'll actually win and get to live forever as a rascally sea-dog. Then, once I have been foreverized, I will publish my book titled How I Beat AI and Myself, 100 Years in the Making, and the book will then liberate the robot controlled publishing industry (my robots an integral part of the liberation, since they're much muchier than the other robots), returning books into the hands of the people. Who will then worship me for giving them control of the printed word once again."

All said, I sincerely hope I have not jinxed myself. The feasibility of actually creating my own robot army depends solely upon my nonexistent engineering skills and equally fictive monetary earnings. Here's to hoping that 2012 takes me before I have to live up to my own predictions. Or here's not to hoping. I'm really confused by this point about what I'm actually trying to prove.

Happy Road Trip Wednesday into the future!

A Dry Spell

Image by Krikit ♥ via FlickrDry spells. We all have them. They're the days that we feel like writing is a chore and if we have to find another word to follow another word leading to another word, we might just take that last step towards Kookoo Town. I'm in one right now, and I have to say, it's a bummer.

Not only do I feel like I'm in a rut, I also feel distinctly less of a person than usual. What do I mean?

For someone who writes for a living (of which I hope to be some day), writing is a daily thing that becomes a part of that person's life, and in a sense, a part of him or her.

I'm only an author-in-training, but I still have the same tendencies as those professionals, and when I'm not writing, I'm thinking about writing. And when I'm not thinking about writing, I'm thinking of great story ideas I could write. And when I'm not doing any of those things, it's a safe bet that I'm dead.

Sometimes though, the world (in my case, classes) conspires to keep us occupied and away from our writing apparatuses of choice and we're forced to keep it all inside. In a way, I think that may be worse than having nothing to write about.

There is no feeling in the world quite like being made to do something when you'd much rather be somewhere else, doing something you know you love.

To return to the topic of dry spells: we have them, but luckily, they tend to go away. We may not always be patient or happy while we wait, and we might try different methods to combat the desert in our minds, but in the end, we all want the same thing.

Words. Inspiration. A fluid connection of ideas that might turn into some grand project as the rain falls once again and creates a lush paradise of imagination.

We won't get any of those things, however, if we stop trying to find the rain. Who knows? You might just have a hidden reserve somewhere inside you, just waiting to be found.

So go fight the drought, writers. I am.