Friday Fives: Banned Books

1. Harry Potter and the Sorcerer's Stone
(Actually, the entire series. But I'm just listing it once.) I LOVE these books. Absolutely, one hundred percent, cannot live without them in my life. I know y'all probably hear this all the time from other fans, but my life would not have been the same without Harry Potter, Ron Weasley, and Hermione Granger to keep me company, along with all of the other memorable characters within the wizarding world.

2. The Hunger Games
Fabulously frightening. The first time I read it, I found myself forgetting to breath in places along the story because it just felt so real.







3. Brave New World
What's not to love? I can see how this book could freak people out, but it doesn't give them the right to "ban" it. Heck, it freaked me out, but I didn't stop reading it. You have to be willing to see everything in order to make your own decisions; other people can't make those for you.















4. The Call of the Wild
This book, and other London stories, instilled in me a fierce love of nature and the elements. The natural world is unforgiving and primitive, but capable of great beauty and enlightenment. London captures those qualities perfectly, and it amazes me that someone could object to such wonderful prose and exploration of humanity.




5. The Lord of the Rings
I often talk about how much I love LOTR, and I do, I really do, but I think that the thing I love the most is J.R.R. Tolkien's attention to detail and language. His other books and poems (I'm currently trying to digest The Silmarillion) show just how much he cared about getting things right, no matter how many words he had to use to do it. Some people find his works to be tedious, but I derive a sense of immense pleasure from reading his densely explained works.

RTW: September Gave Me Zombies

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:
What was the best book you read in September?

Well, this was easier than it could have been. September has been a slow month for reading. The only book I've had time to read (and I just finished this week) is World War Z. It's about zombies, war, the human condition, government, capitalism, conflict, truth, society, and reality TV, and I highly recommend that you read it before you see the movie (starring Brad Pitt.)


Prior to reading WWZ, I was only passingly interested in the zombie culture phenomenon. I'd see a zombie book or movie and say to myself, "Well now, that looks neat. But I think I'd rather watch a vampire movie/read a vampire book," because honestly, those are The Shiz.

Anyway, now I'm all for fighting me some zombies and stockpiling supplies to survive in a world inhospitable to human life. The way I see it, I have a better chance of surviving than most people. I've been trained my entire life to be able to hunt, make fire, and live off the land (although lately I've been living in a sort of domesticated role.) I've read the SAS Survival Guide Handbook for fun, and I really have no qualms about killing things. Just ask all those ants and flies that no longer bother the fine citizens of this world.

AND I can climb trees like nobody's business.

I'm not exactly the strongest person in the bunch, but if you put me together with my entire family, we are a force to be reckoned with.

For some reason I feel like this post is just turning into a rant about how awesome I would be at fighting zombies and surviving in a zombiepocalyptic world.

So, I think that if you're a person who likes to read and likes social commentary by vehicle of zombiepocalypse, then World War Z is for you. You're welcome.

The Deer That Saw My Soul

At this very moment, I am being judged by a lawn ornament. I know what you're all thinking: lawn ornaments are probably the last things in the world that should be judging people.

But it's true. Just look for yourself.

Scary isn't it? When I woke up only little over an hour and half ago, I did not anticipate having my hairstyle and clothing choices looked down upon by a foam deer.

And it's very judgmental.

You can't really get the full effect without being in my place.

It knows things. About me.

Now that I've sufficiently spooked myself and worried people over my sanity, let's get down to the real business at hand...





Zombies!

I have a feeling that this topic will attract a few bloggy friends of mine, or at least one. Anyway, I've been reading World War Z for the past two weeks (I know; it shouldn't take me that long to read a normal sized book, but since I don't have time to read, I'm excused just this once.)

Suffice it to say, I'm completely mesmerized by the Zombiepocalypse and I've even taken things to an extreme.

That's only a portion of how ready I am.

Just kidding, but really, I'm so obsessed with being ready for the zombie attack that I'm even attending a Zombie Multimedia Presentation! next month that's being presented by a zombie expert. Yes. I'm going to be prepared.

I'm not going to get eaten, that much I can assert with some confidence. I've been biking regularly and now have enough leg endurance to be quite satisfied with my ability to outrun/out-bike a zombie hoard intent on devouring my flesh.

Come and get me you undead fiends! I will smash out your brains with a shovel and then bike away into the murky, smoke-hidden sunset. And then climb a really tall tree to sleep in so I won't get bitten/eaten while the un-sleeping, virus-ridden creatures attempt to maul me and turn me into one of them.

Parting words:
"Constant vigilance!" --Alastor "Mad-Eye" Moody

RTW: I Judge 'Em by Their Covers

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:
What are your all-time favorite book covers?

I absolutely love this prompt. Kudos to the YA Highway chicks. They continue the Rock-Bailey's-Blog-World streak. Here follows my favorite covers.

1. I may have some serious issues with the way this series ends, but the cover for Twilight always makes me want to read it again. The image--and the allusion--give me a feeling of melancholy mixed with the shivery-awe of the simplicity that manages to convey so many things. To put it simply: it's beautiful.

2. I absolutely adore this book. The cover completely captured my imagination the first time I saw it, and from that point on, Sabriel and the other Abhorsen books have been some of my all-time favorites.

3. Graceling is a kick-butt book and the cover manages to convey that, as well as the beauty in the Graced world. The elements of this cover make it very lovely and eye-friendly. I was so glad that the story lived up to the cover's promise.

4. Not only is this book cover easy on the eyes, but it's textured exactly as an old map or book would feel. It appealed immediately to me in both a tactile and visual way. Merely picking up the book and running my hand over the cover can transport me to the world contained within it's pages.

Of course, I have many other favorite covers, but I felt like four was enough for one day. I want to be able to post this link and go see what everyone else chose! Until next time...

It's the Start of Life as She Knows It

Hello everyone. Thank you for clicking by. Yesterday I became an aunt! Her name is Lucille Mae (Lucy Mae), and she arrived at exactly 4:27 p.m. on September 15th.

I don't think I will ever forget that moment. I was sitting in the hospital, waiting like the rest of the family members (munching on some candy corn because I was hungry), and then the "Baby Tone" played over the speakers. We all froze.

Joy and excitement took my breath away, and the silence in the waiting room was enough to tell me that it had done the same to everyone else. The silence was shattered by the intake of our combined breaths and as one, we stood up and made our way on trembling knees to the nurse station.

It's funny now that I look back, but the nurses gave each other knowing looks and I could almost swear that I saw them restraining laughter. I guess I couldn't blame them if they had laughed. The looks on our faces--mine especially since I'm known for wacky faces--were priceless. We looked like we'd just walked into Wonka's Factory and were beholding the candy world with fresh eyes.

Yesterday, only forty minutes after she'd been born, I got to hold a "fresh" baby for the first time. She was so small and wrinkly, but her eyes--oh her eyes!--were wide and alert, and even though I know from science class that newborns can't see that well when they are born, I imagined that we shared a glance of understanding.

I didn't cry. That much I managed to do. A few of the others, especially the great-grands, got teary and had to wipe away those runaway drops. I just didn't want her first somewhat-unformed perception of me to be of a weeper. Although that's probably just my weird way of thinking kicking into gear.

A baby. I held a baby, and I'm going to get to watch her grow up and even contribute to her raising. Is that crazy? How could this happen? I don't know what I want to teach her first. I've already decided I'm going to read to her every chance I get, and the first book is going to be Harry Potter and the Sorcerer's Stone. I'd like to see them try and stop me.

I've also determined that I won't follow in my grandmothers's footsteps and put coffee in her bottle, even if she asks for it. It's my addiction, but I'm not going to pass it on.

I feel like I need to make a list. Yes. I think a list sounds perfect for today.

"Don't bother me. I'm writing a masterpiece.
You may change me later."

Observations from Two Days as an Aunt:
1. Babies poop, but they also make funny faces and who doesn't like those?
2. In case the baby does poop while you're holding her, you can always hand her to her daddy.
3. Babies mean power. If you have a baby and you're sitting down, you can get anyone to do anything for you so you don't have to get up.
4. If you have a baby, people bring you food whenever you want it, because: you have a baby.
5. The waiting room in the maternity ward only shows PBS Kids on its TV, so bring a book if you don't like Barney.
6. Sometimes babies don't like to come out of the womb, so waiting may take many hours. Bring snacks. The vending machines are expensive.
7. If you have a Shakespeare class on a Friday, but you don't want to go, going to see your niece is a good "excuse" to your conscience for skipping.
8. Babies don't care if you haven't put any makeup on. They don't know anything yet!
9. If you walk into a room that has a baby as its occupant, you're automatically guaranteed to hear people make funny noises and faces, and that can be amusing.
10. Women who just gave birth like froyo, so you have an excuse to get frozen yogurt for lunch and dinner.

Basically, newborn babies don't do very much but they look like little mini-Yodas, so that makes them AWESOME in my book. Until next time...

RTW: Deja Vu? Methinks Maybe

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:
What themes, settings, motifs, scenes, or other elements do you find recurring in your work?

I'm BACK! And in more ways than one apparently, as it seems very appropriate to be discussing recurring themes and such after returning from a RTW dry spell. These past few weeks have been uncommonly hectic, what with classes and the writing and the newspaper and the helping of EDM310 students, but thank goodness for slow times in the lab. That's how I'm here right now typing at y'all.

Anyway, on to the fun stuff! *ahem*

Themes:
I tend to be on the side of Good a lot more than Evil, so really that's the only theme that I follow, at least overtly. My WIPs are many times following some sort of conflict either internal or external, perhaps even a combination of both. It may sound a lot cliche, but that's how I think. In cliches, haha! Although lately I've been stepping out of that "cliched" comfort zone and writing characters who have problems and seem more three-dimensional. It's been really fun. At the moment, my MC of the month is an ex-streetfighter who took over running a bar when her dad passed away. She (yes, this girl can fight!) has a penchant for cussing and does odd "jobs" to keep the bar afloat. Her past hasn't exactly been left behind despite what she may claim.

Settings:

This old store in Mississippi isn't that far from where I grew up.
Spooky. Also: tombstones?
Scooby and Shaggy would have none of that place.
None. Of. It. 

Oh dear, this is a doozy. Well, I have one WIP set in the South...then it's in Ireland...and then I have another one set in the South...and I think it stays there. Umm, then there's this one that's set in space...but then it's on Earth, but I haven't really decided where yet. Oh and then there's the one set in a place kind of like Metropolis for Superman, but I never really named it. I think I see a trend though. The settings tend to change or be a little Southern. Except for the WIP of the moment. It's set in a Chicago-like borough that never had a heyday. It's cold and dark and I love it.

Scenes:
I have a lot of introspective scenes, mostly because I write in first person quite often. But other than those, it's either very descriptive third person or ginormous conversations. It's, as we say, a work in progress! I'm constantly learning how some scenes can be made better by adding different elements or by subtracting them. I don't think I'll ever stop learning.

I think that's enough for now. I don't want to be sore tomorrow from all of this fun! Until next week...

Tests

That word has come to mean many things, to me in particular.

As a college student, I have tests in my classes (although honestly they often feel like Herculean tasks). As a writer, I have deadlines which are tests in themselves, since I'm one of the world's worst procrastinators. As a daughter/sister/friend, I am constantly tested on all sides by those who know me, and whether or not they know they are testing me is another question altogether.

Life is full of tests, some bigger and some smaller than others, but in order for us to pass, we must learn how to face ourselves and develop our test-taking skills.

I'm trying not to delve too deep into the nether-region of psychoanalysis, but how we deal with the tests in life is definitive of who we are as individuals. I have this idea that it isn't the test itself that frightens us. We fear taking tests because we're afraid they will somehow reveal something about us that we would rather keep hidden.

The same goes for characters in a book. Whether you are writing a book or reading one, we all realize that at some point the main character is going to undergo some sort of test. Harry Potter is a prime example of a character that was constantly tested, often to the extremes of physical pain and emotional loss, but it is how he dealt with the aftermath that makes his story so gripping.

Harry Potter doesn't always say or do the things we as readers might think right, but he does use his own judgement and conscience to do what he feels is right. While we may not be acting under the high pressure situations that Harry finds himself in in every book, we can appreciate as outsiders the fact that he never chooses to give up and he does what others would not.

In the end, that is what we must do when life tests us. The only way to get past a trial is to keep going despite the knowledge that something bad may happen.

So there you have it, folks. My spiel for the week. Hopefully I haven't depressed anyone, because this post was actually intended to be uplifting. I guess that's just goes to show how words can just get away from you.

Saturday Scenes: Picture Version

I have so many pictures that I just decided to make them one post! Anyway, I'll try to describe what each picture contains, but sometimes words just can't do a thing justice, no?

This is the concept design that the scenic technicians are working to create.
I call it: Mini Set. 

These are the brains and some of the brawn.
I let you figure out which is which. 

He gave me gum, so I left him alone with his saw. 

Jonathan (oooo! I used his name!) taught me how to scumble.
It's not as bad as it sounds. 

You gotta give them props. (Heehee.)

My scumbling paint. Low, Mid, and Hi, respectively. I think.
I actually think the Hi might be in the middle. 

Can you believe it took two of them almost two hours to put up two pieces of panel?
Yeah, I may be exaggerating. 

This is the set after I'd scumbled may way around the walls.
I'm pretty sure I'm not using scumble properly at this time, but it's just so much fun to say and type.
Try it. Scumble!

And there you have it folks! That's my theatre experience! I had fun.

Mind Over Memory

This video pretty much says it all today.

The Day My Fifth Grade Walls Came Tumbling Down

The years have passed quickly, it seems. It's been ten years to the day that my spelling test was interrupted by the intercom and my fifth grade world was shattered.

Hope in the face of disaster. 

I don't remember what words I was trying to spell correctly, but I can tell you exactly what seat I was in when the events of 9/11 came crashing into my life.

Third row in from the door, first desk in the row. I'd been having problems seeing the board (and would later get glasses), but I didn't have any trouble imagining the horror of the scene taking place hundreds of miles from me in New York City and later in Washington, D.C. and that field in Pennsylvania.

It's hard to describe what it feels like to have your childhood ripped away in an instant by an act of terrorism so violent that the aftermath leaves a feeling of shock. As the scenes of the plane hitting the tower played on the TV set in our school library (where I sneaked off to see what was happening) and later the image of another plane and another plane and the smoke, ash, debris, and terror, roiled in my mind and the minds of my classmates, we did the only thing we were capable of: we prayed.

My school, thank goodness, was one of those that encouraged prayer, which I suppose was due to the fact that it was a private school in Mississippi. So, we all got down on our knees, spelling tests forgotten, and we prayed that God would watch over those in the Twin Towers, those on the ground, those who have family in those places, and anyone else that would be affected. We prayed for the president, the armed forces, the first responders, the onlookers, and the cab drivers. We prayed because it was the only thing we could do--we were only in fifth grade.

Even ten years later, the memory of my knees on the tile floor still recalls in me that feeling of helplessness that I felt as I watched the towers burn.

I don't know if I'll ever forget that day, and I don't think I will want to. Sometimes, it's the horrible acts in life that make the biggest impact, yet for all the pain I witnessed, it was the smaller acts of kindness that actually brought me to tears and can still do so today. Needless to say, we never finished that spelling test. It just didn't seem important anymore.

God Bless the USA.

Saturday Scenes

As some of you may know, I am a college student and also the Life editor for my campus paper, The Vanguard. So, now that you're all up to speed, I can tell y'all about my morning working in the scene shop of the theatre department.

First of all, I would like to say that I am not a theatre major and there is a very good reason for that. Audiences make me laugh. I could just see myself trying to give a serious monologue and out of the corner of my eye catching a glimpse of the audience and then subsequently breaking down into hysterical laughter. I could probably act if I were allowed to wear a blindfold or played a pirate with two eye patches.

Anyway, as a journalist, I made the bright decision to write a series of articles about the theatre department, more specifically about the people behind the scenes. I didn't know what I was getting myself into. These people are crazy, but in the best way possible.

I did something like this. (Only smaller and...less grand.)

Normally I'm the most outgoing person within a 200 foot radius at any time. Not so this morning. I walked into the conference room where we were all gathering before beginning the work day, and found myself sucked into a mire of laughter, jokes, yells, jests, and stories that swept me forward and sat me roughly (though kindly) on a seat where I stared in rapt attention at the sheer force of what I was witnessing.

These people were so intense and close-knit that I wondered at first if I would fit in, but that too faded. I found myself welcomed heartily and learning to "scumble" a set wall. I painted limestone! (I also got paint in my hair that I don't think will come out!)

Despite the fun, I was basically useless to them. I did manage to act as the head painter's "personal assistant" which meant he stayed on the ladder, he'd hand me his paint brush, and I would dip it in the paint he needed. (Hi, Mid, or Low.) I think he appreciated it since he was on a sixteen foot ladder and coming up and down was tiring.

In just three hours, we managed to paint the entire set in shades of taupy-pink. By the time I left to go to my other job, I was in love with the entire cast of characters working with me and I felt accomplished, even though I only performed a small task.

I was going to include the pictures that I took during the work day, and they would have shown the progress from a blank set to a painted set, but alas, I left my camera at The Vanguard office where it belongs. Maybe I'll come back and add some.

Until next time...have a scumbling great weekend!

Finally Friday

Blog world! I've been so busy and I've missed you! I didn't even get to do my RTW like I usually do...it made me sad.

Despite that lack of RTW fun, I did manage to be "productive" this week. I know what you're thinking: "She did something baaaaaad and now she wants to tell US about it. Oh boy."

Shame on you for thinking that. In fact, I did nothing bad that I can recall (key word: recall) but I have been hard at work writing things, predominately articles. But I did manage to squeeze in a few essays and a short story somewhere, so in all, this week hasn't managed to keep me down yet!

To add to my current state of tiredness and delusion, I just discovered today--actually about 30 minutes ago--that the reason it is raining and windy outside is because there's a tropical storm sitting right smack dab below me in the Gulf of Mexico and Mobile is just catching the top half. Well! I wish someone would have thought to tell me sooner and I would have worn my rain boots to class. (I didn't, and my feet got wet. Thankfully due to the knowledge I had of Mobile being the rainiest city in the U.S., I always carry an umbrella.)

Anyway, it's been one of those weeks that happens and you just don't know how you made it to Friday without having a nervous breakdown or two. I even went a whole day without coffee, but I don't want to talk about it.

Before I get too off track, I just want to share this awesome photo that Hex Hall author Rachel Hawkins tweeted a little while ago. Of course, for some odd reason it wouldn't blow up without getting blurry, so if you really want to see it close up, just click on it and it'll reveal itself in all its glory.

Apparently, she loves it hard. And I have to agree. It's simply wonderful, and as a fan of these fantasy worlds, it just makes sense to have them all combined into one giant map.

Until next time...enjoy!

How's This For A Promotion? (aka Non-Sappy Sunday #1)

Hello people of the blogosphere! Thank you for stopping by, if indeed you are actually reading this. You're so special and I love you. I. Love. You.

Anyway, I've been following a certain blogger's blog (blogger's blog...haha...that sounds so funny for some reason...) for a few weeks now, and she really knows her stuff. I don't readily admit when someone is younger than me and can write circles around what I do, but here I go:

She can write circles around me, and I like it.

She likes to go by the name Silent Pages, and quite frankly, I'm glad. As long as she's hiding behind that pseudonym, I can still have that tiny belief in the back of my mind that she might just be a figment of my imagination concocted to make me feel bad about my own writing skillz. Those things do happen, you know. Really, they do.

But, since I'm on the topic of great ideas, writing tips, and so on, I would like to pass her link on to you folks so y'all can each get an idea of what I'm trying to say. Whatever that may be.

Without further ado, I give you Silent Pages' blog. Go crazy. (Warning: Her blog posts are so amazingly long, wonderful, and wise that you will feel inadequate, but be comforted in the fact that everyone else is feeling the same way.)

It's An Alien World After All

Okay, so this post doesn't really have anything to do with that picture. I just thought it was funny. He's so happy about chopping folks into tiny bits...*sigh*

On to better thoughts. Just recently, like about ten minutes ago, I was being a good college student and reading an essay for my literary theory class. It was okay. I don't have anything against it as a piece of literature.

Basically, the whole essay was about whether or not literature could be ethical and thus make its readers more ethical. I don't know why that matters, but obviously it must to the author. (Who also happens to be my teacher. What a strange coinkydink, right? Yeah...)

To make a long essay short, I came away with one thing, and it was a quote. Perhaps I should have come away with more, but hey, this is literary theory I'm talking about, not Algebra. There is no clear answer.

"Reading is just that: a way of giving way not only to a host of alien words, images, ideas, but also to the very alien principle which utters them and shelters them."

I grant that it doesn't make much sense out of context of the essay, but if you'd read it, you'd also know that the theorist Georges Poulet was being referenced for his theory (so many theories!) that by reading, one puts oneself into the hands of the author and allows the book to invade one's mind and become "the subject of thoughts other than my own."

Let's pause and think about this for a minute, and I'm going to dumb this down to my own level, possibly losing some of the meaning behind what Poulet said, but if it's lost, I say I didn't need it in the first place. He should learn to theorize more clearly.

As readers (and writers which I know a lot of you are) we have the particular pleasure of delving into a work of literature and in doing so, we open ourselves up to new ideas, new experiences, and many times those things are completely foreign to us. In order to get the full effect of some piece of literature, you have to be willing to immerse yourself completely, losing your own pre-conceived ideas about life or what-have-you, and thus permitting the "alien" to be sheltered inside your own mind.

Now, this may sound kinda creepy. I admit that. However, once you think about it, it makes sense. As writers, we want to have a lasting effect on our audience. We want to convey at least some portion of what we mean to them, and it is our ultimate hope that they experience things the way you actually intended them to be read.

I know how frustrating it is to write something, to know exactly what you mean, and then have someone come along and blindly read a piece and pronounce it dull, boring, unreadable, horrible, etc. It's heartbreaking. If only they could SEE things the way you do, they would understand!

That is what Poulet (and that quote waaaaay up there) meant. As readers, we must be conscious of how we read, because if we only read with a sliver of our attention, we're doing the work and the author a disservice. Also, we're not reading to our fullest potential.

Another way to interpret Poulet's little idea, is that all literature is attempting to be a form of mind control. And that idea just used up my allotment of Crazy Speak for the day.

I don't know if any of what I just wrote made any sense, but if it helps, I typed the entire thing while speaking what I typed aloud in a British accent. So, if you weren't already reading what I've written in a British accent, well, just think of this last paragraph as me apologizing for not telling you sooner that that was what I was doing. Oh well. Cheerio!

RTW: Good Old Mind Plunger

Welcome to our 93th Road Trip Wednesday!

Road Trip Wednesday is a ‘Blog Carnival,’ where YA Highway's contributors post a weekly writing- or reading-related question and answer it on our own blogs. 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 in the comments - or, if you prefer, you can include your answer in the comments.

This Week's Topic:

How do you beat writer's block? 

Do you go for a jog? Read a book? Go to a movie? Come on, share your secret - we're dying to know!

Ah, the topic of champions. Writer's Block is something that we all face, but some people are often skeptical if it in actuality even exists.

I'm here to say how I feel on the matter and try to explain how to beat it until it raises the white flag in retreat.

First, I believe that Writer's Block is real, BUT--and it's a necessary but--it does not mean that a writer is incapable of writing anything. It simply means a writer is temporarily devoid of inspiration along a certain train of thought. It happens, though we wish it didn't, and we are struck dumb with the overwhelming horror of Not Having Anything We Think Is Worth Saying.

It's terrifying, and I admit that I've had that same issue at times. I feel like I stare at the screen for hours on end just waiting for the Muses to whack me upside the head with something, anything, that will be worthy of being written.

Image courtesy digitalart/ FreeDigitalPhotos.net

Let's pause right there for a moment. Worth. That is where we get hung up and our worry just exacerbates the problem until all we can see is that blank screen or that empty page. Why does what we write have to be worth writing? Can't it simply be nonsense or junk?

It's not like anyone besides ourselves has to read it, right? That's what I thought.

So there is a solution to our problem right there. Whenever you feel like you have nothing to write about and Writer's Block worries are getting you down, just start writing. It doesn't have to be about anything, just so long as it's real words strung together. The simple act of putting those words on screen or paper is enough to kick-start your tired Writing Motor. While it may take some time, you will be free of Writer's Block.

That's the good thing about the subject. Writer's Block is temporary. It doesn't have to dominate your life. It will, if you let it, but if you refuse to allow the doubt it brings you to creep into your writing life, then it won't be given the chance to gain a foothold.

So, be brave, dear stalwart writers. Fight for your ability to create and destroy worlds with your words.

It's An Animal Cracker Morning

Image via WikipediaI can hear what you're thinking. What am I doing up this early and why am I writing a post about it? I respect your questions. In fact, I may even be wondering the same things myself.

Today, dear people, is Monday. Yes, I know it's fairly obvious from the way your bodies don't want to do anything, but hear me out. It's Monday and I'm awake, coherent--or at least enough to be able to type so you can read it--and I'm currently looking at a bag of animal crackers.

What's the significance you may ask? My, my, my, aren't you all a bunch of curious folks in the morning.

Well, those animal crackers symbolize my childhood. They also make me sing "Animal Crackers in My Soup" in my head whenever I see any, but this post isn't about my humming habits.

Childhood. It's a place of myth and legend. Somehow, my mind distinguishes between those two things and separates them, yet places childhood in both categories. Children, those little people, have the ability to exist in two worlds: ours and theirs.

Our world, the world of fact and logic, is what we call reality. It makes sense and, as adults, we like it that way. Reality makes us feel like we have some control over what happens in our lives. Reality is real.

But children live part of the time in a world all their own, where reality mingles with fiction. They have imaginary friends and conduct intense tea parties with a nine course meal. Their conversations deal with the nonsensical and fantastic. Their young minds cannot grasp the fullest idea of our reality, and that is what makes them special.

As writers, we all have to nourish our inner child. We do this is many ways, mine at the moment is pretending my animals crackers are alive and have their own names, lives, friends, enemies, etc. It's childish and that's what makes it fun. It feeds my inner child. She appreciates it and it shows in my writing.

All writers have to have a sense of the childish. It's what makes writing so much fun and makes our works rich. All literature, in order to become worthwhile, must appeal to the inner children of its readers. They may not know what is so interesting about a book because they've never acknowledged their own inner children, but the thrill they get from reading something comes from that secret place.

So, thus ends my little Monday morning post. I hope it makes enough sense and perhaps even no sense at all. Have a great week!

Sappy Sunday

Here's a new addition to my little blog and I hope someone finds it...worthwhile. Sometimes, when I'm not quite sure where to go or what to write in regards to my WIPs, I open a new Word doc and start putting down my thoughts in verse. Often I don't know what I'm writing about until I finish. And sometimes it comes out so that I can understand it.

Image via WikipediaI don't share the poetry that I write very often, and when I do it's mostly on YWS and not much gets posted on there, but for some reason I'm feeling really sappy today. Hence the title. It may have something to do with the fact that it just hit me that I'm a junior in college and that fall semester classes start tomorrow. It could possibly be due to the fact that I'm currently in a good mood from drinking a caramel Macchiato.

Whatever the true reason, I leave you dear readers and fellow bloggers to what you do best--reading. Thanks for all of the support.

(Don't worry. This poem is not an indication of a depressed mind. I'm very happy with life. My brain just thinks in circles, even though I don't like circles. Actually, I'd rather describe my thought process as an infinity loop. I like those. Okay. That's what it will be from now on. Starting...now.)

"Falling to Find You"

Is it fair how life’s sweetness falls

Bitterly upon all wounded hearts?

The touch, the twist of passion

Turns dark in a fit of rage.

Echoes of people lost in a world

Where silence is so heavy it weighs

More than words. It’s not me, it’s you.

The phrase haunts, flipping and

Switching until it makes no more sense

Than what we give it. A feather falls to

Earth, grounded from flight that once

Gave it meaning—a fate met with pain

As the quick is drawn from the flesh.

The slap and chill of loss the only

Comfort, but nothing compared to this—

A kiss of the past. A memory of what was,

And isn’t, and can never be again.

A sign of old age. Stagnant, yet virile. Hurt

And healed. Those things that coincide in

The mind and are not visible to the sight.

Are we really aware of anything?

Friday Fives: Apps to Apps

It's Friday at last and I've done some major 'stuff' today, which means I've been out doing errands and saving the world, so I've come to wind down from all that doing that I've done. Thankfully, Paper Hangover has a great prompt today.

Top Five Apps? I really hate choosing, but since I'm an app freak, I have a whole litany to pick from. Here are five:

1. Fruit Ninja
Best. App. For. Phone. Ever. Amen.

2. Google Calendar
I seriously would not be able to survive without this. You can color code your appointments, classes, jobs, writing time, etc and you have the option for Google to e-mail you every morning with your day's itinerary. I LOVE IT.

3. Shazaam
I have this problem where I'm a musicaholic and if I hear a song, I like it, but no one within a mile radius can tell me what it is, I have this nifty little app to do the work for me. It's saved me from a bunch of headaches. Obsessive behavior 0: Shazaam 1

4. Symbaloo
It's the penultimate homepage for the OCD person inside of you. Little squares, pretty colors, all arranged how you like them. All your favorite destinations in one place.

5. Words with Friends
I was so addicted to this scrabblelicious game a while ago that I didn't let my phone out of my sight for fear that someone would play a word and I wouldn't hear it. I've slacked off lately though, but if any of you have this app and feel up to challenging me, I'm more than willing to fight with words with you. (I'm Baywolf25.)

What are some of y'all's favorite apps? Are they as awesome as mine?

RTW: Look at All the Pretty Places

Welcome to our 92nd Road Trip Wednesday!

Road Trip Wednesday is a ‘Blog Carnival,’ where YA Highway's contributors post a weekly writing- or reading-related question and answer it on our own blogs. 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 in the comments - or, if you prefer, you can include your answer in the comments.


This week's question:
What is the most inspiring setting you've ever visited in real life?


This should be easy. Key word: should. In fact, I'm actually finding it difficult to name the most inspiring setting I've ever seen with my own two eyes, drunk in with my senses, and that's set my soul to soaring.

Why is this so hard?

I'm torn between memories of my years living in the Mississippi backwoods, where trees were plentiful and you could get lost easily if you didn't know your way around. It was like a type of heaven for a kid like me. I've always been a loner, and I don't mean that in the way that I'm weird, smell bad, or hate the sight of other human beings. I'm only one of those three, and I'm glad. It's easy being weird, but I never forget to wear deodorant. That's just common sense. And people are okay in small quantities.

I loved the scenery of my past. It was a constant sea of green, that changed slightly when the "winter" came. Only the hardwoods changed their colors, and my world was still half green afterwards. Paradise.

And then I flash forward to only a few years ago when I graduated from high school. My family went on a trip to the British Virgin Islands, and we sailed from island to island on a catamaran that felt like a tiny floating palace. The water, the sea-life, the small islands covered in brush and cacti, arid amidst a vast expanse of turquoise. I was bronzed, relaxed, and at one with the rocking motion of my surroundings.

Those two places were full of inspiring scenes and scenery that took my breath away at times. I remember one crisp Fall day in Mississippi, the leaves were just beginning to change, I was on a four-wheeler, making my way over the river and through the woods to my grandfather's house, when all of a sudden, in front of me sprang a small herd of deer. They were all bucks, and they were mighty and proud. I could see their vibrancy in the way they held their heads and flew across the ground. I barely had time to react, I didn't even hit the brakes before they were gone and bounding fiercely through the woods. It's not something that you can forget. Even now, just writing about it gives me chills.

Down in the Caribbean, I felt like I was in another world half the time, since I spent half of my day in the water with my face submerged. I just couldn't get enough of what I saw. The colors, so vibrant, the shapes, shifting, merging, fantastic, all encased in an atmosphere of liquid that sparkled like a gem in the sunlight.

How can I choose? I can't. I won't. They're both equally inspiring, and perhaps in different ways, as I feel almost as if they are polar opposites yet the same in essence. One terra, one aqua. One youth, one coming-of-age. All mine. 

A Series in Review: The First Law Trilogy

I mentioned these books a few posts ago, and while I was driving to work yesterday, I suddenly decided to do a series review because I-just-love-them-so-much.

So here's the layout: The Blade Itself, Before They Are Hanged, and Last Argument of Kings. All three are penned by the talented Joe Abercrombie of Great Britain. On to the good stuff!

The Blade Itself

Upon reading this book, I knew I was hooked. The fact that, once I finished, I immediately had to run to the bookstore and purchase the other two was enough evidence of that. All of the other reviews mention the amazing fight scenes and the witty dialogue of the characters, and they're all spot on. So, I'm not going to beat those topics anymore than already has been done.

In this first novel in the trilogy, readers are introduced to the menagerie of main characters and as a group, they're all pretty much likable. They all have their quirks, but we can understand them and it makes us believe in them even more for having those idiosyncrasies. I was fascinated by the way Abercrombie managed to make the different narratives cohere into a flowing book.

Each character, or main character to be more precise, has a different way of viewing the world. The story isn't told in first person, but through each little piece of the story, we get a rounder whole of what is going on in the book. It's mesmerizing.

I'm trying not to give any spoilers, because I highly recommend that if you love fantasy with wizards, warriors, kings, battles, good and evil and in-between, and sword-play, then this is definitely a series for you.

In this first book, Abercrombie sets the stage, introduces the plot, MC's, stirs the trouble pot, and sinks his author hooks in us.

MC's:
Logen Ninefingers
Jezal dan Luthar
Sand dan Glokta
Bayaz the Magus
Collem West
Ferro Maljin

There are many other supporting characters as well, and some of them I love almost as much as I adore those up there. My favorite is forthcoming.

Before They Are Hanged

This second installment in the trilogy does exactly what a middle book should do. It fulfills some promises set forth in the first book, and sets the pieces up for the grand finale in the third. There is some great character development in this novel, and I fell even further in love with the characters as the chapters progressed. As a matter of fact, I even grew to hate a few of them, and my hatred was justified and perhaps exactly what Abercrombie intended. However that hate was not fully solidified until the last book.

I'm consistently amazed these days by the perception of sex in literature, especially in YA. I'm just in awe at how often sex is shown as some magical experience (often between magical beings, no less) and I just can't help but be a tad disbelieving when a book makes sex a priority and fantasizes it for the readers. This trilogy does quite the opposite. In The Blade Itself, there was little to no mention of sex. It was slightly surprising considering it was an adult book and the world inside it was violent and medieval at times. However, in Before They Are Hanged, sex is introduced between some of the characters, but it's not made a spectacle. It just happens and then it's done. It's not emphasized in any way and doesn't tie into the story line at all (until the last book, but I said no spoilers.) So, that little tidbit made the books go up another notch in my mind.

Last Argument of Kings

The last book, at last. I have to admit, I was a bit hesitant at first to actually start reading it. The truth was, I didn't want this series to end, and lately, all of the books I'd read had left me with a sour taste in my mouth because their endings...for lack of a better word...sucked. I didn't want this series--one I'd put so much time into and enjoyed so thoroughly--to be like those that let me down in the end.

Eventually, I had to get on with the reading and I'm glad I did. Let's just say, without spoiling it for those of you who may read this trilogy, that the ending was very satisfying. It even left open a door to MORE books about these characters*.

It is in Last of Argument of Kings that Abercrombie does some major character development that he'd been setting up in the other books. It was like magic, since as it was happening, I was remembering certain things that the characters did or said in the previous books and I could see how those past events led them to their present selves. Fantastic. That's writing artistry right there folks.

Finally, (without giving anything away) Abercrombie manages to introduce some spectacular twists in the plot that aren't at all unexpected after we're given time to digest them. Everyone gets what they deserve, somewhat, and those that get more than they deserve are manipulated so that we don't feel pity for them. You'll just have to read the books to understand what I mean.

As a last parting gift to this series in review, I would like to give a shout out to my favorite character and my most hated character.

Favorite:
Sand dan Glokta
He may be a crippled torturer with a penchant for cruelty, but I just can't help but love him anyway. For some reason, he's the most sympathetic character in the series. And I mean that in the way that I find  it easy to understand and sympathize with him. Perhaps I should reword that second sentence. Nah. It's fine. Either way you read it works.

Least Favorite, Most Hated:
Bayaz the Magus
He started out in my favor, but then I grew to despise him because of his choices and his overall manipulative personality. As bad magical beings go though, he's not nearly as evil as Voldemort, so he has that going for him. Although he is bald...huh.

Well, that's all folks! Hopefully I haven't rambled about nothing too much.



*There are two other books in the First Law series. Best Served Cold and The Heroes. They are meant as stand-alone novels and are not part of the trilogy despite being numbered First Law #4 and #5.