You know what's pretty awesome? When your grandpa takes you out on the back roads of Vermont after a snow storm and spins the car around on the ice... on purpose! =D
It was super cool. There's this tiny publishing house in a small town nearby where my grandparents live and I like to drive on the back roads (that's pretty much the only time I like to drive) so my grandpa was like "HEY! Let's go for a ride!" And I drove up there, and then he drove back. On the way home he pulled off into one of these little side parking lots where people stop to look at moose and bears and stuff-- I was like, "Grandpa Rod, what are you doing?" And then he looked around all over the place and then accelerated the car (I was really freaked out because for a split second I thought he was going crazy) and then he did this little gear monuever thing with the brake and the emergency brake and the car spun around!!!!
IT WAS SO COOL.
He's going on and on about how to do it and how a move like that can save you if the roads are in a certain condition and I'm just sitting there thinking "Oh my god. That was just like a movie!!!" And then he does it again, but this time spins it completely 180 degrees. Of course, he spends the next twenty minutes trying to explain it to me but I don't understand gears so ninety percent of what he said was babbling. Like the adults in Peanuts.
[The Moral of this story is that my grandpa is awesome, and cool things happen during Winter Break]
More cool things that happened: I got a leather jacket, saw Tangled (aka CUTEST MOVIE EVER) and saw my paternal cousins, which is freaking awesome because I haven't seen one of them in like, years.
Yeahbutso Christmas was actually pretty awesome. I loved it. Christmas day was freaking awesome; lots of presents, lots of family, lots of fun. I can't really say much more than that.
But then i went to Vermont... and the happy haze was shattered for a moment before revived slightly by coming home and seeing more relatives and above mentioned cousin reunion.
Now I'm back to *doom* because... guess what?
My birthday is in a couple days... yeah, January 2. And I'm turning 18 and I'm not sure if i like that. Mostly because I have to figure out if I'm going to have a party in a week or something or if I'm going to just hang with friends-- and I know you're probably thinking "Jesus, Alexa, it's just a party." But, you see, I am party-deficient. I can't throw them. I am physically incapable of throwing a party. I can do to them, sure. I love parties. But have one? At my house? No. Sorry. Can't do it. Last year I didn't have to worry about it because a) I figured it was okay not to have one and then b) my friends threw one for me. But this year they aren't going to do that and I kinda want one... 18 is sorta big, isn't it? More reasons I'm freaking out/ unhappy/ stressing is because 18 means you are an adult now and i don't want to grow up. Sorry, just don't. Also, I always get crappy presents on my birthday. Christmas is great and I always get great stuff, but I think people kinda get tired on my birthday. Don't get me wrong, I'm not complaining about the things. I totally have enough crap. It just sort of disappoints me that my birthday is, i don't know, second rate. Like that it isn't a big deal. Birthdays are a big deal. It's the anniversary of your birth. Existence is kinda important, don'tcha think? And my parents... and my friends...
It's no big deal, just something I think about sometimes. Anyway, remember the book plan? Well draft two is in progress. I haven't even finished reading through all of draft one but I have so big plans for the revisions. BIG PLANS. Like, adding a couple of characters and a WHOLE NEW VILLAIN plans. I've remembered why I wanted to write in the first place, and why I love the characters. :) The only problem is that I really really really want to get Scrivener, this computer program designed for writers and to help with the writing process. Unfortunately I have to wait until some undisclosed time for the Windows version to be released. *grumbles* Mac bothers me to no end its not fair.
Friday, December 31, 2010
Monday, December 20, 2010
Dr Jekyll and Mr. Hyde
(In AP English class we have to write an essay about The Strange Case of Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde by Robert Louis Stevenson. It’s an in-class essay that we’re supposed to be acquiring evidence and quotes for right now, but I’ve already done that.)
Humans have found a duality in the universe and continue to see the same dualities in their lives for thousands of years; plants are either alive, or dead. It’s either night time, or day time. If it’s not hot, it’s cold. Human’s see opposites—probably because there is the same sort of duality inside of them; Humans have a lights side and a dark side. We are capable of both great good and great evil. The Strange Case of Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde by Robert Louis Stevenson revolves around the concept that there is a duality in human nature.
(That was the introduction I’ll be using in the actual essay. After this I have an outline for two body paragraphs, one centering on the ‘supporting characters’ and the other centering on the ‘main characters’. But that’s boring and I don’t want to do all that work right now so I won’t put it here.)
…
{Okay, so I was going to do this really funny thing write a fake essay but I’m not sure if I want to do that anymore, mostly because I’m getting really bored and distracted really fast because these guys are talking about awesome movies behind me and how they can’t wait to see this one action movie to come out—I want to see that too!!—and some sexist website or something. And also, there is like, fifteen minutes left in the class and then I have to deal with advisory my next class.}
You wanna know the annoying thing about this novella? I don't know if you've read it before, but if you have, you'll know what I'm talking about and if you haven't then I'm saving you a lot of wasted time;
The whole book is about this lawyer named Mr. Utterson and the mystery of how Mr Hyde is and how he's related to Dr. Jekyll and it's SO aw forget it, let me just show you:
Alexa's Summary of The Strange Case of Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde:
So Mr. Utterson is around with a boyfriend of his and the bf is like, "hey! i know that door! that's were this dude Mr Hyde lives-- he's really weird. Yeah, in fact, one time he trampled a little girl and we made him pay the family some money and his check was like, from this really upstanding gentlemen. It was really weird." And Utterson is like, "Yeah, that is really--WAIT,MR HYDE? I KNOW THAT NAMEE!!" and he goes home and he's like, hey, this really weird, that creepy dude that trampled that little girl is named as the beneficiary of my bud Dr Jekyll's estate..." And naturally, Utter is like, I must know why this is ( or something) and he goes looking for Hyde and Mr Hyde is like, get away from me lol, and Utter is really freaked out about him for no reason---
Insert Alexa's Reason She Hates this Book #1: No one can say why they don't like the look of Mr. Hyde! It's not like in the movies, or cartoons of this story, where Hyde is a terrible monster, or deformed or something; the guy is short and stumpy, like a dwarf, and there's something 'off-putting' about him. No one even mentions what it is until the extreme end of the book and even then it's speculation! "There's something extremely unsettling about Mr. Hyde, yes, he's very fearful to gaze upon. I couldn't say what it is, but perhaps we are able to sense the pure evil that emanates from his person." THROUGH HIS FACE!! If you think the guy is pure evil, than why don't you stay the hell away from him??
--and leaves. There's also a part where he goes to his buddy Dr Lanyon because he's worried and wants to know more about Jekyll's new friend Hyde, and another part where he confronts Jekyll who's like 'Duuddde, don't worry about it." And then Mr Hyde is reported to have killed this parliament dude (did I mention it takes place in Victorian London? Didn't mention that? My bad) and then Utter gets really worried that Jekyll will get like-- what? punished for Hyde?-- something bad will happen to him (....) and Jekyll begins his descent into crazy sickness that spirals on and off for 50 PAGES!!
Insert Alexa's Reason She Hates this Book #2: Really? Really? Have you people ever heard of DOCTORS?? OH WAIT YOU ARE DOCTORS LOLOLOLLOLOL grow a pair. USE YOUR BRAIN AND GO TO THE FREAKING HOSPITAL (of course Jekyll can't go to the hospital because of you know, the physical manifestation of multiple personality disorder) But whatever.
And then, after Lanyon gives him a mysterious letter about Jekyll and Hyde and then DIES , and Jekyll's weirdness, Utter is called by Jekyll's manservant Poolemaster to come check Jekyll out cause the servants all freaked out that somethings up with Jek something's up with Jek (do do do) and Utter finds Hyde dead in Jekylls library with another letter that says to go read Lanyon's letter which has a story and then says to go read another letter by Jekyll...
Insert Alexa's Reason She Hates this Book #3: WHAT? WHYYYY????? WHY CAN'T COW-UTTER JUST BE LIKE HMMM A GUY JUST GOT KILLED MAYBE I SHOULD READ THE FREAKING LETTERS AS I GET THEM AND STOP WASTING VALUABLE FREAKING TIME.
And then after all that the reader finally finds out that Hyde and Jekyll are the same person and that Jekyll created a potion to change him into another dude (amazing!).
Alexa's Real Reason she Hates this Book: The real reason I don't like this book, the real reason i think this is a low grade quality of writing is that there is no real reason that Jekyll made the potion. He spends two paragraphs talking about the duality of his personality and how he had hypocrisies that bothered him. That's it. There's no greater meaning. The reader doesn't learn what Jekyll had to go through to get to that point. I've read a lot of books, and the best books are the ones that show what a character is feeling or how he got to be the way he is, not telling. Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde tells everything. It's boring and predictable.
NOT. A. FAN.
Insert Alexa's Reason She Hates this Book #2: Really? Really? Have you people ever heard of DOCTORS?? OH WAIT YOU ARE DOCTORS LOLOLOLLOLOL grow a pair. USE YOUR BRAIN AND GO TO THE FREAKING HOSPITAL (of course Jekyll can't go to the hospital because of you know, the physical manifestation of multiple personality disorder) But whatever.
And then, after Lanyon gives him a mysterious letter about Jekyll and Hyde and then DIES , and Jekyll's weirdness, Utter is called by Jekyll's manservant Poolemaster to come check Jekyll out cause the servants all freaked out that somethings up with Jek something's up with Jek (do do do) and Utter finds Hyde dead in Jekylls library with another letter that says to go read Lanyon's letter which has a story and then says to go read another letter by Jekyll...
Insert Alexa's Reason She Hates this Book #3: WHAT? WHYYYY????? WHY CAN'T COW-UTTER JUST BE LIKE HMMM A GUY JUST GOT KILLED MAYBE I SHOULD READ THE FREAKING LETTERS AS I GET THEM AND STOP WASTING VALUABLE FREAKING TIME.
And then after all that the reader finally finds out that Hyde and Jekyll are the same person and that Jekyll created a potion to change him into another dude (amazing!).
Alexa's Real Reason she Hates this Book: The real reason I don't like this book, the real reason i think this is a low grade quality of writing is that there is no real reason that Jekyll made the potion. He spends two paragraphs talking about the duality of his personality and how he had hypocrisies that bothered him. That's it. There's no greater meaning. The reader doesn't learn what Jekyll had to go through to get to that point. I've read a lot of books, and the best books are the ones that show what a character is feeling or how he got to be the way he is, not telling. Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde tells everything. It's boring and predictable.
NOT. A. FAN.
Sunday, December 19, 2010
Apology, Explanations and Hugs
Ya know, I'm really sorry about the anger post. I won't take it down, because in real life words can't be unsaid, but I want you know that I am sorry. You guys don't need to know about that kind of stuff. I'm sure you have your own problems.
The weird thing about anger is how quickly it can turn into sadness. You get all puffed up and built up strong and then for as long that you hold it in the amount of weakness you feel afterwards is doubled. And after the sadness leaves-- and it will leave-- and you feel normal again but a little stunned, like you've been slapped in the face a few moments ago and you're just getting over the feeling of "Whoa! What was that?", you can pick up on the roller coaster of emotions of other people. Whenever this happens, I feel like I get people more. Like the little ways my mom is tired, and the anxiety and happiness of one of my best friends, and the stress my little sister has over certain familial relations. When people are upset, I know how they feel. I understand.
And usually I don't know how to show that; I don't know how to get them to feel that tug you get in your heart- the thing that makes you understand what they're going through. Is it sympathy? Empathy? One or the other, but yes; A friend is feeling bad about himself-- and I know how that is. Not the same thing-- because I believe that you can never truly know the extent of a feeling of someone else because you are not them-- but the thing that is the same inside of me. But how do I show that I'm there for them? What do I say to make them understand that I have gone through something similar and they need a shoulder to cry on... If I was there, the simplest way I could help was giving a hug.
Hugs are seriously some of the best things in the world.
I honestly believe that giving someone a real hug-- the kind of hug that isn't rushed, that takes as long as both people want, the kind of hug where you hold on to someone and there isn't anything but comfort no other emotions or connotations, a real hug-- can make the everything so much better.
Sometimes I wish I could give everyone I know a hug like that. People (I/You/Friends?) need them.
Another thing: I don't resent the fact that I've had (word for this? depression? issues? grief?) in the past. I think that tragedy makes you stronger. Looking what I've written, i don't know if other/normal? people feel this way naturally, but i think that those experiences have made me a better person. I might be sensitive, but you can read that word two ways: the bad sensitive or the good sensitive. I tend to see the good sensitive-- the kind that can relate to hard emotions and hopefully, help them out.
You might be thinking that having that sort of attitude about my mental state is delusional, but you know, I don't particularly care if that's what you think. I can't let myself believe that everything that's happened had no meaning, no reason. (And even if it originally didn't have a meaning, I've given it one by living my life as I do) Bad things-- be they car crashes or sickness or simply bad thoughts about your life-- must happen for a reason; they make us stronger.
And when you have another person standing by you that has been through the same thing--- why, then you are doubly as strong. I know it's hard to reach out, but I guarantee if you do, you won't meet humiliation or a denial. Not from people like me, not from people like yourself. We can meet you halfway, if you like. You feel bad, send out a signal; We'll do the best we can.
The weird thing about anger is how quickly it can turn into sadness. You get all puffed up and built up strong and then for as long that you hold it in the amount of weakness you feel afterwards is doubled. And after the sadness leaves-- and it will leave-- and you feel normal again but a little stunned, like you've been slapped in the face a few moments ago and you're just getting over the feeling of "Whoa! What was that?", you can pick up on the roller coaster of emotions of other people. Whenever this happens, I feel like I get people more. Like the little ways my mom is tired, and the anxiety and happiness of one of my best friends, and the stress my little sister has over certain familial relations. When people are upset, I know how they feel. I understand.
And usually I don't know how to show that; I don't know how to get them to feel that tug you get in your heart- the thing that makes you understand what they're going through. Is it sympathy? Empathy? One or the other, but yes; A friend is feeling bad about himself-- and I know how that is. Not the same thing-- because I believe that you can never truly know the extent of a feeling of someone else because you are not them-- but the thing that is the same inside of me. But how do I show that I'm there for them? What do I say to make them understand that I have gone through something similar and they need a shoulder to cry on... If I was there, the simplest way I could help was giving a hug.
Hugs are seriously some of the best things in the world.
I honestly believe that giving someone a real hug-- the kind of hug that isn't rushed, that takes as long as both people want, the kind of hug where you hold on to someone and there isn't anything but comfort no other emotions or connotations, a real hug-- can make the everything so much better.
Sometimes I wish I could give everyone I know a hug like that. People (I/You/Friends?) need them.
Another thing: I don't resent the fact that I've had (word for this? depression? issues? grief?) in the past. I think that tragedy makes you stronger. Looking what I've written, i don't know if other/normal? people feel this way naturally, but i think that those experiences have made me a better person. I might be sensitive, but you can read that word two ways: the bad sensitive or the good sensitive. I tend to see the good sensitive-- the kind that can relate to hard emotions and hopefully, help them out.
You might be thinking that having that sort of attitude about my mental state is delusional, but you know, I don't particularly care if that's what you think. I can't let myself believe that everything that's happened had no meaning, no reason. (And even if it originally didn't have a meaning, I've given it one by living my life as I do) Bad things-- be they car crashes or sickness or simply bad thoughts about your life-- must happen for a reason; they make us stronger.
And when you have another person standing by you that has been through the same thing--- why, then you are doubly as strong. I know it's hard to reach out, but I guarantee if you do, you won't meet humiliation or a denial. Not from people like me, not from people like yourself. We can meet you halfway, if you like. You feel bad, send out a signal; We'll do the best we can.
Thursday, December 16, 2010
It's a Bad Idea, but Here it is Anyway:
ANGER POST.
You know how people always say to write a letter to someone you're really angry at in order to calm down? And then when you're done with it, and you feel better, you tear up the letter and move about your life? That's what I think I'm doing write now. I KNOW it's a bad idea that I'm making it a blog post instead of a letter, and worse that (if you're reading it) I've decided to post it.
But I'm going to post it anyway, because I'm seriously annoyed and in a severe self-destruction mood.
I CAN'T STAND THESE PEOPLE.
I think I've gotten to a point that I'm just sick of this place (my high school); I've been here for four years, and I'm ready to move on. It makes me a little worried about later in life, when i'm going to have to put down roots and have a life and stuff, but that's something to worry about a different day because right now all i can think about is how easily I am angered; The littlest things drive me nuts. Usually it's not even something specific-- it's like a collection of tiny things i notice about a certain person that suddenly explodes and then I really notice it. I can't stand them. Just things they say; the things they say over and over and I know that to them it's a new situation that calls for it, but I'VE heard it TEN THOUSAND TIMES. I know all their stories, I know all their catchphrases-- I know everything there is to know! I know the way they talk, I know the things they like, I know can guess their reactions to almost everything. It's like, I KNOW ALREADY. To be honest, it's just their personalities. I've been friends and had classes with the same people for four-- sometimes as many as seven-- years. (YEARS)
And I know what you're thinking; Alexa, are you okay? Alexa, are you going to blow a gasket?
YES. YES I AM.
I don't want to scare you, honestly. I don't want you to be all paranoid that you are the reason I'm so *AHHHHH* because, seriously, the odds are that you aren't. There are just *certain* people that I really can't stand a majority of the time anymore.
The worst part of all this is that I think it isn't even my friends. I really think that it isn't their fault at all. One of my friends is always saying "I have serious issues" and normally it drives me nuts, (because I realize that you want to explain away your eccentricities but I'm your friend. I already like you. You don't have to explain yourself to me), but I've been thinking that applies more to me than it does to my friend. I realize that I can never compare one type of 'crazy' to the other, but I don't feel normal. I don't think normally. And everything is so fished up-- I DON'T TALK TO PEOPLE. I can't share what I'm thinking about-- not about the things that matter.
I worry that all this anger and depression or whatever is like, smashed down, silently repressed feelings. Mommy issues, daddy issues, life and death issues. I don't talk about stuff like this because when I was little, when I was younger (13, 14, etc) we didn't talk about it in my family. My mom was always the too-busy type. She focused on the little kids--which is fine, don't get me wrong. I love my mom and dad a lot. They are seriously great. But my dad was no better-- he had two moods; goofy or cranky. How does an awkward kid like me talk to either of them? I either didn't want to distract my mom from her kids, or was afraid that my dad would react negatively to my insecurities. I've never felt safe with my emotions and the reactions of other people. So I didn't talk to them about how sad i was; how much i hated the things i did and said; how upset i was-- ever. Even now, when I know how dangerous it could be if I don't talk to someone, it's hard. I talk a bit to a social worker at my school, but i worry if it will ever not be enough.
I also worry that i worry too much, and that i focus on this too much ( I don't want to be like them-- repeating the same thing over and over again-- and never moving on or changing) instead of dealing with it. I feel like I've moved on from my birth-mother's death just fine, but now i have to deal with Jayne's death last year... and I'm not ready to do that. It's been a year and a month and two weeks and a day, and I still feel like if i go to Vermont, she'll be watching TV in my grandmother's house.
Whatever. It doesn't really matter. I should go work on my book.
Don't comment on this post.
You know how people always say to write a letter to someone you're really angry at in order to calm down? And then when you're done with it, and you feel better, you tear up the letter and move about your life? That's what I think I'm doing write now. I KNOW it's a bad idea that I'm making it a blog post instead of a letter, and worse that (if you're reading it) I've decided to post it.
But I'm going to post it anyway, because I'm seriously annoyed and in a severe self-destruction mood.
I CAN'T STAND THESE PEOPLE.
I think I've gotten to a point that I'm just sick of this place (my high school); I've been here for four years, and I'm ready to move on. It makes me a little worried about later in life, when i'm going to have to put down roots and have a life and stuff, but that's something to worry about a different day because right now all i can think about is how easily I am angered; The littlest things drive me nuts. Usually it's not even something specific-- it's like a collection of tiny things i notice about a certain person that suddenly explodes and then I really notice it. I can't stand them. Just things they say; the things they say over and over and I know that to them it's a new situation that calls for it, but I'VE heard it TEN THOUSAND TIMES. I know all their stories, I know all their catchphrases-- I know everything there is to know! I know the way they talk, I know the things they like, I know can guess their reactions to almost everything. It's like, I KNOW ALREADY. To be honest, it's just their personalities. I've been friends and had classes with the same people for four-- sometimes as many as seven-- years. (YEARS)
And I know what you're thinking; Alexa, are you okay? Alexa, are you going to blow a gasket?
YES. YES I AM.
I don't want to scare you, honestly. I don't want you to be all paranoid that you are the reason I'm so *AHHHHH* because, seriously, the odds are that you aren't. There are just *certain* people that I really can't stand a majority of the time anymore.
The worst part of all this is that I think it isn't even my friends. I really think that it isn't their fault at all. One of my friends is always saying "I have serious issues" and normally it drives me nuts, (because I realize that you want to explain away your eccentricities but I'm your friend. I already like you. You don't have to explain yourself to me), but I've been thinking that applies more to me than it does to my friend. I realize that I can never compare one type of 'crazy' to the other, but I don't feel normal. I don't think normally. And everything is so fished up-- I DON'T TALK TO PEOPLE. I can't share what I'm thinking about-- not about the things that matter.
I worry that all this anger and depression or whatever is like, smashed down, silently repressed feelings. Mommy issues, daddy issues, life and death issues. I don't talk about stuff like this because when I was little, when I was younger (13, 14, etc) we didn't talk about it in my family. My mom was always the too-busy type. She focused on the little kids--which is fine, don't get me wrong. I love my mom and dad a lot. They are seriously great. But my dad was no better-- he had two moods; goofy or cranky. How does an awkward kid like me talk to either of them? I either didn't want to distract my mom from her kids, or was afraid that my dad would react negatively to my insecurities. I've never felt safe with my emotions and the reactions of other people. So I didn't talk to them about how sad i was; how much i hated the things i did and said; how upset i was-- ever. Even now, when I know how dangerous it could be if I don't talk to someone, it's hard. I talk a bit to a social worker at my school, but i worry if it will ever not be enough.
I also worry that i worry too much, and that i focus on this too much ( I don't want to be like them-- repeating the same thing over and over again-- and never moving on or changing) instead of dealing with it. I feel like I've moved on from my birth-mother's death just fine, but now i have to deal with Jayne's death last year... and I'm not ready to do that. It's been a year and a month and two weeks and a day, and I still feel like if i go to Vermont, she'll be watching TV in my grandmother's house.
Whatever. It doesn't really matter. I should go work on my book.
Don't comment on this post.
Friday, December 10, 2010
Publishing/Agent Research, Doubts, and Thank Goose It's Friday
Long time no see, Friend!
I wanted to update because I haven't in a while, but unfortunately, my life and thoughts have been rather dull. For the past week my free time has seriously consisted of RESEARCH RESEARCH RESEARCH. Every night, every lunch period, every advisory/free time I get has been devoted to researching the publishing world and literary agents. I'd say I've spent at least four hours a day to this for the past five days, so about twenty hours. (.__.) I have no life.
Basically my research started with a front to back reading of 2010 Children's Writer's & Illustrator's Market which is basically this gigantic book about writing children's books/ YA books, and where to find good publishers and agents and contests and the things you had to consider when doing trying to make it in the publishing world, etc. etc. It wasn't the best book for me to look through, simply because I want to write fantasy or YA novels, but it was the only one that my high school library had and I rather read something than nothing, so I used it. It was kinda helpful, because it gave me a starting platform, and a look into the general mores and unwritten laws of the publishing world (like the basis for query writing, and what else I need to research like copyright laws and contracts).
I also took a look at the NaNoWriMo winner's website, which had a "I Wrote a Novel, Now What?" page that had a bunch of links to other sites that should be checked out by wannabe authors like me. I took notes from Writer's Beware on the subjects I knew the least about, like copyrighting and whether or not I really need an agent at all. From them, I got the links to AgentQuery.com , QueryTracker.com and AuthorAssist.com. Agentquery was awesome, and I haven't had a chance to really explore Authorassist, but QueryTracker was a new one for me, and I have to say that it's pretty cool; not only can you look up any literary agent, but it also give you a list of clients, genres the agent is looking to represent and comments of people that have queried them. The last feature is especially helpful because some agents don't respond for a while, and some are a little on the sketchy side. I'd never know that if other wannabe novelists hadn't shared their stories.
By far the best website I've used is Preditors and Editors, though. I really feel comfortable with them, because they are referenced everywhere as a great site to double check information. Not only does it have information on which scams are pretending to be writing contests and legitimate publishing houses, but it has an extensive list of agents and editors; and tells you whether they've had big sales or are registered with the Association of Author's Representatives (like a guild or union or something--it basically says, yeah these guys are legit).
So through those websites I've compiled a list of agents (I'm on the 23rd right now, and decided to take a break). When I'm done cross-checking my preliminary list (I'm got like, 19 more to go...) I'll move on to researching queries. I have a couple of books I found at the High School Library, and then I'll move on to the public one... I feel like I've done a lot, but I still have so much more to do. I want to focus my research on writing too, like how to draft and stuff, and then I want to email an author that I know to see what she thinks when I'm done with my second draft... Basically, I have a plan, and it goes like this:
I wanted to update because I haven't in a while, but unfortunately, my life and thoughts have been rather dull. For the past week my free time has seriously consisted of RESEARCH RESEARCH RESEARCH. Every night, every lunch period, every advisory/free time I get has been devoted to researching the publishing world and literary agents. I'd say I've spent at least four hours a day to this for the past five days, so about twenty hours. (.__.) I have no life.
Basically my research started with a front to back reading of 2010 Children's Writer's & Illustrator's Market which is basically this gigantic book about writing children's books/ YA books, and where to find good publishers and agents and contests and the things you had to consider when doing trying to make it in the publishing world, etc. etc. It wasn't the best book for me to look through, simply because I want to write fantasy or YA novels, but it was the only one that my high school library had and I rather read something than nothing, so I used it. It was kinda helpful, because it gave me a starting platform, and a look into the general mores and unwritten laws of the publishing world (like the basis for query writing, and what else I need to research like copyright laws and contracts).
I also took a look at the NaNoWriMo winner's website, which had a "I Wrote a Novel, Now What?" page that had a bunch of links to other sites that should be checked out by wannabe authors like me. I took notes from Writer's Beware on the subjects I knew the least about, like copyrighting and whether or not I really need an agent at all. From them, I got the links to AgentQuery.com , QueryTracker.com and AuthorAssist.com. Agentquery was awesome, and I haven't had a chance to really explore Authorassist, but QueryTracker was a new one for me, and I have to say that it's pretty cool; not only can you look up any literary agent, but it also give you a list of clients, genres the agent is looking to represent and comments of people that have queried them. The last feature is especially helpful because some agents don't respond for a while, and some are a little on the sketchy side. I'd never know that if other wannabe novelists hadn't shared their stories.
By far the best website I've used is Preditors and Editors, though. I really feel comfortable with them, because they are referenced everywhere as a great site to double check information. Not only does it have information on which scams are pretending to be writing contests and legitimate publishing houses, but it has an extensive list of agents and editors; and tells you whether they've had big sales or are registered with the Association of Author's Representatives (like a guild or union or something--it basically says, yeah these guys are legit).
So through those websites I've compiled a list of agents (I'm on the 23rd right now, and decided to take a break). When I'm done cross-checking my preliminary list (I'm got like, 19 more to go...) I'll move on to researching queries. I have a couple of books I found at the High School Library, and then I'll move on to the public one... I feel like I've done a lot, but I still have so much more to do. I want to focus my research on writing too, like how to draft and stuff, and then I want to email an author that I know to see what she thinks when I'm done with my second draft... Basically, I have a plan, and it goes like this:
Alexa's Book Plan
1. Write the first draft
2. Allow brain to relax
3. Research (agents)
4. Research (queries)
5. Research (drafting?)
6. See #2
7. Edit/Write second draft
8. Email Mrs. Paratore (the author that I know)
9. Revise, then write query
10. Begin to send queries
11. Freak out when rejection letter is received [you can't say you're legitimate until you've received a couple of these]
11b. Party for first rejection letter??
12. Repeat steps 2 and 9 through 11 until
13. SUCCESS!!
I'm very aware that I'm not going to get accepted by the first person I send it to. I kind of expect that I will be rejected, in fact, I kind of hope I'm rejected a lot because all of the greats were rejected at least a few times, and I want the full experience, you know? I want to publish a book, but I also want to learn. :) Also, I'm only like, seventeen, so it's not like I have a limited amount of time (that I know of) to do this. I want to be smart and patient and professional. I don't want to come across as a whiny amateur (even though that's exactly what I am lol), I want to be someone that an agent would want to do business with.
Of course, it all comes down to whether or not my writing is good enough. I worry about that a lot. Like, what if I've put all this time and effort into it, and I turn out to be crap at writing? My passion is in the stories, and the characters, and I love that, but sometimes I think I'm not good enough, you know? Sometimes I have a hard time expressing myself. I freak out easily and make one second decisions in real life that I regret. This is really important to me, so I'm trying not to do that.
The other thing--and this is a very personal, weird, secretive part of me--that I've been thinking is that maybe this isn't what I want in the first place. Maybe I don't want to write books for a living, and study English in college. Maybe none of this is what I'm supposed to be doing.
I don't know.
But on the other hand, I can't imagine life without this. I guess that's how you know you love something right? That's how you know something is important; you picture life without it and if you can't see anything, it's essential. Makes you wonder what else you couldn't live without.
So, IN CONCLUSION, I'm really busy with researching book-things, I'm doubting the basic stuff that makes up my existence, boys suck, getting stressed out by previously mentioned worries, and desperately trying to ignore Christmas.
And now that I've finished this post four hours after I started it (during lunch) I'm gonna go watch the rest of Sorcerer's Apprentice instead of reading or researching, like I should be doing.
HAPPY FRIDAY!!
Monday, November 29, 2010
AHH.
So. Stressed.
Can't. even/ function/ properly.
I just... Okay so you know how people go to college when they finish high school? Well, that is a very scary thing. Mostly because, you know, you are choosing a place for your own education. LIKE, what if i choose the wrong place? What if i didn't look hard enough for the right place and just settled and I hate it? What if i don't get in to any place, at all! What if i cant afford it?
I just submitted my first application.
ALSO. My mother keeps hounding me for my christmas list. I DONT WANT TO THINK ABOUT CHRISTMAS, THANK YOU. I don't know what's up this year, but i'm really not looking forward to it. I'm just not in the spirit of things. The music annoys me, the tree is ugly, and the decorations are obnoxious. Did you know that my birthday is a week after XMas? Not that i'm eager for it or anything, but i'd really much rather skip over the holidays and just go right to that. Then i'd only have to deal with well-wishing for a day, and then forget about it. Not this. OH no. This i have to deal with for a whole freaking month.
Yeah, the book. Almost forgot about that. Remember how i was telling you about that book i read by S. King on how to write? He and a book my writer-friend read by Gail Carson Levine says that i should wait a few weeks after completing the first draft to edit it. I think they are right. My dad printed out the whole thing at work (all 140 pages of it) and i started reading it, just to get a feel of how it is.
Bad idea.
Because i realized it sucks. It really, really, really sucks. Like, horrendously. Like, astronmically. Like, I don't know what i was thinking, type of thing. I wanted to gorge my eyes out with a spork. Seriously.
So I put it away in the "Forget-Me" drawer and i'm not taking it out until December 13, which is a very very long time away. Until then, I'm trying to catch up on my reading. The Harry Potter series (again) and a strange book called the House of Leaves. Expect a review for the latter.
TA-TAA. HAPPY HOLIDAYS. :-|
Can't. even/ function/ properly.
I just... Okay so you know how people go to college when they finish high school? Well, that is a very scary thing. Mostly because, you know, you are choosing a place for your own education. LIKE, what if i choose the wrong place? What if i didn't look hard enough for the right place and just settled and I hate it? What if i don't get in to any place, at all! What if i cant afford it?
I just submitted my first application.
ALSO. My mother keeps hounding me for my christmas list. I DONT WANT TO THINK ABOUT CHRISTMAS, THANK YOU. I don't know what's up this year, but i'm really not looking forward to it. I'm just not in the spirit of things. The music annoys me, the tree is ugly, and the decorations are obnoxious. Did you know that my birthday is a week after XMas? Not that i'm eager for it or anything, but i'd really much rather skip over the holidays and just go right to that. Then i'd only have to deal with well-wishing for a day, and then forget about it. Not this. OH no. This i have to deal with for a whole freaking month.
Yeah, the book. Almost forgot about that. Remember how i was telling you about that book i read by S. King on how to write? He and a book my writer-friend read by Gail Carson Levine says that i should wait a few weeks after completing the first draft to edit it. I think they are right. My dad printed out the whole thing at work (all 140 pages of it) and i started reading it, just to get a feel of how it is.
Bad idea.
Because i realized it sucks. It really, really, really sucks. Like, horrendously. Like, astronmically. Like, I don't know what i was thinking, type of thing. I wanted to gorge my eyes out with a spork. Seriously.
So I put it away in the "Forget-Me" drawer and i'm not taking it out until December 13, which is a very very long time away. Until then, I'm trying to catch up on my reading. The Harry Potter series (again) and a strange book called the House of Leaves. Expect a review for the latter.
TA-TAA. HAPPY HOLIDAYS. :-|
Thursday, November 18, 2010
NaNoWriMo
Hi, remember me?
Yeah, once upon a time I thought I was going to be doing this every single day. Luckily for me, I have been writing every day. Unlucky (maybe?) for you, I just haven't been writing here.
I've been completing this contest, called National Novel Writing Month (or NaNoWriMo) for the past 18 days. Basically the goal is to write 50,000 words of a first draft of a novel in 30 days; from the 1st of November to the 30th of November. You don't really win anything when you complete this goal, just a pat on the back, bragging rights, and a free manuscript of your book through a website called CreateSpace.
*Shrug*
For me, it's more about the deadline. It's an incentive to get my creative juices going. It forces me to write, which is good. Other wise, I'd let things like homework, and television and sleep get in the way of what's really important. I'm actually trying to go for 75 thousand words becuase last year I finished early too, and because--let's be honest--50k words almost never makes a satisfactory novel.
It's funny, I actually planned to do this big thing where I was going to introduce you to my characters, and like, post some of the book as I was writing it on here, but... I'm almost done with the contest (I have 46,248 words out of 50,000 right now) sooooo I guess you'll just have to visit this.
p.s. Don't be surprised if you don't hear from me for a while. I won't be posting until the first draft is completely written. No more distractions for Alexa!
Yeah, once upon a time I thought I was going to be doing this every single day. Luckily for me, I have been writing every day. Unlucky (maybe?) for you, I just haven't been writing here.
I've been completing this contest, called National Novel Writing Month (or NaNoWriMo) for the past 18 days. Basically the goal is to write 50,000 words of a first draft of a novel in 30 days; from the 1st of November to the 30th of November. You don't really win anything when you complete this goal, just a pat on the back, bragging rights, and a free manuscript of your book through a website called CreateSpace.
*Shrug*
For me, it's more about the deadline. It's an incentive to get my creative juices going. It forces me to write, which is good. Other wise, I'd let things like homework, and television and sleep get in the way of what's really important. I'm actually trying to go for 75 thousand words becuase last year I finished early too, and because--let's be honest--50k words almost never makes a satisfactory novel.
It's funny, I actually planned to do this big thing where I was going to introduce you to my characters, and like, post some of the book as I was writing it on here, but... I'm almost done with the contest (I have 46,248 words out of 50,000 right now) sooooo I guess you'll just have to visit this.
p.s. Don't be surprised if you don't hear from me for a while. I won't be posting until the first draft is completely written. No more distractions for Alexa!
Saturday, October 30, 2010
Wednesday, October 27, 2010
Jenny Holzer
Hi there.
Guess what?
Yeah, I'm in school again.
So the first person that I was considering for this project was this girl named Jenny Holzer. I'm not going to post a link because I can't find one website that I like about her yet. There's plenty of information but as far as I can tell (as of now) she doesn't have an awesome website. ANYWAY. Holzer's work is mainly text about complicated and provocative subjects. Most her pieces are projections, either into water or on the sides of buildings, but she's also down stuff like this for websites and neon stuff. EDIT: She does have a more informational website: Here.
Guess what?
Yeah, I'm in school again.
One of my teachers mentioned to me that she liked my blog, so .. I don't know, it's been in my head. And we have this project, where we have to research an artist and then write a reflection and present a presentation to the class. It's not due for a while, and I still don't know what I'm going to be doing for the project, BUT a certain awesome someone else mentioned to me the other day that I should post some of my "artsy" things. (They aren't mine, they'll come later, when i have more time and am at home) but since I A) have a project to organize, and B) need to put some art up here, I thought, Hey. Might as well.
So the first person that I was considering for this project was this girl named Jenny Holzer. I'm not going to post a link because I can't find one website that I like about her yet. There's plenty of information but as far as I can tell (as of now) she doesn't have an awesome website. ANYWAY. Holzer's work is mainly text about complicated and provocative subjects. Most her pieces are projections, either into water or on the sides of buildings, but she's also down stuff like this for websites and neon stuff. |
The thing that I like about her is that the words she uses mean things. Whatever it is that she's saying aren't things that are usually said out loud. They are things we think in our heads, things we read, or things we write but never things that we say. Never things that are so loud and so public. I love the inovation of putting these things-- these sayings-- in public places where everyone can see them. I like that they're so bright; you can't help but see them. You can't help but notice them. You have to think a little bit. I like that. Jenny Holzer makes the secret things public.
And the other person that I was thinking of using was Barbara Kruger. I don't know as much about her. Like Jenny Holzer I've been looking at for awhile and I've seen a couple of her websites. Kruger I'm not so sure about. I like the idea that she presents. She takes boring everyday photos-- black and whites from magazines-- and slaps a block of red with white words acrossed it.
  |
| (this was just too funny not to add) |
Most of her work is political statements, hints like the american flag, or it's something about consumerism, which is cool I guess. All of her work seems to be satirical. She's poking fun at everything: the systems, the man, politicos, art, herself. I like the conflict in her art. Not only the stricking colors, but the way the words almost contradict or enhance the art.
Tuesday, October 26, 2010
QUICKIE POST
CAUSE I'M IN SCHOOL SHHHHH!!!
I just happened to check into my account (cause I'm cool and obsessed like that) and noticed that a certain awesome person posted a comment on one of my posts-- that maybe i should name this blog "The Silence is Deafening".
Yes! I like it! Approved!
Any thoughts? Like it love it hate it? I think I'll be keeping this for awhile. Unless I have a sudden flash of brillance in the next couple of days, (and those things are expensive, I'm trying to save 'em up for NaNoWriMo) IT STAYS!!
YYAAAAAY!! WE'VE BEEN NAMED!!! :)
I just happened to check into my account (cause I'm cool and obsessed like that) and noticed that a certain awesome person posted a comment on one of my posts-- that maybe i should name this blog "The Silence is Deafening".
Yes! I like it! Approved!
Any thoughts? Like it love it hate it? I think I'll be keeping this for awhile. Unless I have a sudden flash of brillance in the next couple of days, (and those things are expensive, I'm trying to save 'em up for NaNoWriMo) IT STAYS!!
YYAAAAAY!! WE'VE BEEN NAMED!!! :)
Monday, October 25, 2010
King and Frankenstein
I'm assuming you've noticed the title change. I got sick of the "Within You" nonsense, so i decided to change it (finally). I'm working really hard to find a new, better one soon. But. No promises.
Also, I'm not done with the Stephen King book. I may have, sorta kinda, put it on "hold" for a few days while I finish another awesome book I'm borrowing from a friend. I'm ALMOST done. (In both cases) But today, during lunch, a friend of mine and I went to the library and I pulled down Stephen King's first book, Carrie from the shelves. I knew that I have alot of books to read before the chaos of NaNoWriMo (another entry for another day) but since I've been reading his memoir/how-to book, I figured I better try out one of his actual novels. I know that Carrie isn't one of his better known books, but I wanted to know how he started out. If I could compare myself to him when he was in my 'stage' writing.
UM.
Have you ever read Carrie?
No? Okay. I don't want to ruin it for you but let me just leave you with this; The first ten pages of the book... ARE ABOUT SOME IDIOT GIRLS FIRST menstrual cycle. WHAT?? WHAT?? STEPHEN KING! WHAT ARE YOU DOING WRITING ABOUT THIS? WHY ARE YOU--? WHAT??
My friend and I were seriously sitting there, in awe of what we were reading. It was insane. We could not believe it. Not only is that the first scene in the book-- which is more than enough reason for my to put the book down-- but a) the main character is obnoxious, dull and extraordinarily dumb-witted, b) one of the other antigonistic characters is named Sue Snell. (Yes, that's right. You heard me) And then I guess the dumb-witted main character, Carrie, developes telekinesis and attacks her tormenters.... I just have no response to that. Not only is it weird but I feel like it's such a simple plot. Like, who cares. Nothing happens. Or more like, something happens, but there's only one thing. I know every thing that happens before I've even read the thing! A) Carrie developes powers. B) She gets bullied and decides she's had enough C) She goes crazy and kills people at her prom. Done! I didn't even have to read it. How can a book be sucessful if people already know what it's about? Stephen King is amazing. Becuase that's all she seems to do. He amazes. (I can tell you one thing, that's certainly how Maggie and I felt in the library: Absolutely fishing amazed.)
I'm also reading Frankentein by Mary Shelley through A.P English Literature. It's interesting, not only because M. Shelley was 19 when she wrote in (not far off from me :)... ) but becuase it's one of those books that full of lessons and meanings and morals. It seems like everything Victor Frankenstein says can be related to death. He's always going on about how death is coming, it's around every corner, that he lives a cursed existence and what not. That death is misfortune. It's implied that death is personified by the monster that he creates, a looming dark figure that is shunned by people and viewed as the greatest atrocity by its creator.
And today in driver's ed, we were talking about drunk driving. Accidents. Statistics.
So it's no wonder my mind is on death.
But there's another reason. I have this anniversary coming up. November 4th. And there was another anniversary that just passed. October 5th.
Death is hard. It's scary. It's another unknown variable in an already unknown life. It takes people away from you. People that you love. People that you rely on and care about and need. People that make you feel better when you're sad. People that make things real, that makes things meaningful. Death humbles heroes. It takes away the people that you've always thought were unshakeable. It turns the people that you've always thought were strong into shadow's of themselves. And it's scary. It's hard. It's painful and it's lonely and it will make you sad. But it's not death that is all these things. It is not the act of dying.
It's the aftermath. It's what is left behind. It's the hole that the dead person left. That is what's scary. That's what's painful. That's what makes you cry and your heart beat faster and your thoughts shy away. What will happen now? That's what we worry about. What happens after we're gone? Life keeps turning but they and you and we are know where to be found.
I can't stand that about death. The loneliness after some one dies. It's like that thing when a parent says to a kid you can't have it, and they just want it more. When someone you love dies, all you want is her. You know, deep down that she's the only thing that will make you feel better, and of course. That's the one thing you can never have.
I didn't want to make you guys sad, but it's something that eats at me sometimes. And this won't happen often, but the next couple of weeks are tough, and I'll be mentioning it. Not alot, because I have A TON of things to do and write about, but you know. I wanted to prepare you.
Okay. 'Night.
Also, I'm not done with the Stephen King book. I may have, sorta kinda, put it on "hold" for a few days while I finish another awesome book I'm borrowing from a friend. I'm ALMOST done. (In both cases) But today, during lunch, a friend of mine and I went to the library and I pulled down Stephen King's first book, Carrie from the shelves. I knew that I have alot of books to read before the chaos of NaNoWriMo (another entry for another day) but since I've been reading his memoir/how-to book, I figured I better try out one of his actual novels. I know that Carrie isn't one of his better known books, but I wanted to know how he started out. If I could compare myself to him when he was in my 'stage' writing.
UM.
Have you ever read Carrie?
No? Okay. I don't want to ruin it for you but let me just leave you with this; The first ten pages of the book... ARE ABOUT SOME IDIOT GIRLS FIRST menstrual cycle. WHAT?? WHAT?? STEPHEN KING! WHAT ARE YOU DOING WRITING ABOUT THIS? WHY ARE YOU--? WHAT??
My friend and I were seriously sitting there, in awe of what we were reading. It was insane. We could not believe it. Not only is that the first scene in the book-- which is more than enough reason for my to put the book down-- but a) the main character is obnoxious, dull and extraordinarily dumb-witted, b) one of the other antigonistic characters is named Sue Snell. (Yes, that's right. You heard me) And then I guess the dumb-witted main character, Carrie, developes telekinesis and attacks her tormenters.... I just have no response to that. Not only is it weird but I feel like it's such a simple plot. Like, who cares. Nothing happens. Or more like, something happens, but there's only one thing. I know every thing that happens before I've even read the thing! A) Carrie developes powers. B) She gets bullied and decides she's had enough C) She goes crazy and kills people at her prom. Done! I didn't even have to read it. How can a book be sucessful if people already know what it's about? Stephen King is amazing. Becuase that's all she seems to do. He amazes. (I can tell you one thing, that's certainly how Maggie and I felt in the library: Absolutely fishing amazed.)
I'm also reading Frankentein by Mary Shelley through A.P English Literature. It's interesting, not only because M. Shelley was 19 when she wrote in (not far off from me :)... ) but becuase it's one of those books that full of lessons and meanings and morals. It seems like everything Victor Frankenstein says can be related to death. He's always going on about how death is coming, it's around every corner, that he lives a cursed existence and what not. That death is misfortune. It's implied that death is personified by the monster that he creates, a looming dark figure that is shunned by people and viewed as the greatest atrocity by its creator.
And today in driver's ed, we were talking about drunk driving. Accidents. Statistics.
So it's no wonder my mind is on death.
But there's another reason. I have this anniversary coming up. November 4th. And there was another anniversary that just passed. October 5th.
Death is hard. It's scary. It's another unknown variable in an already unknown life. It takes people away from you. People that you love. People that you rely on and care about and need. People that make you feel better when you're sad. People that make things real, that makes things meaningful. Death humbles heroes. It takes away the people that you've always thought were unshakeable. It turns the people that you've always thought were strong into shadow's of themselves. And it's scary. It's hard. It's painful and it's lonely and it will make you sad. But it's not death that is all these things. It is not the act of dying.
It's the aftermath. It's what is left behind. It's the hole that the dead person left. That is what's scary. That's what's painful. That's what makes you cry and your heart beat faster and your thoughts shy away. What will happen now? That's what we worry about. What happens after we're gone? Life keeps turning but they and you and we are know where to be found.
I can't stand that about death. The loneliness after some one dies. It's like that thing when a parent says to a kid you can't have it, and they just want it more. When someone you love dies, all you want is her. You know, deep down that she's the only thing that will make you feel better, and of course. That's the one thing you can never have.
I didn't want to make you guys sad, but it's something that eats at me sometimes. And this won't happen often, but the next couple of weeks are tough, and I'll be mentioning it. Not alot, because I have A TON of things to do and write about, but you know. I wanted to prepare you.
Okay. 'Night.
Friday, October 22, 2010
Julian Emery Brown
It's raining outside, the heavy droplets of water creating mud on the moor-roads, turning the gardens into mushy squishy mazes of wet earth. The water sits on the hedges, biding its time until too much water collects, and the drops slide down. The whole estate is a gray mist of moisture. The gates have been closed. The flowerpots have been brought in for fear of them being drowned. In the middle of the road, right next to the willow tree, a man is struggling in the mud. His foot is stuck, but he soon frees it and scurries for the cover of the front door.
Julian does not see this, though.
He is blind.
He sat at an open window, smelling the unique smell of heaven-sent moisture, hearing it's rhythmic music. He heard the faint squish as the man trudged up the hill, the barely audible swear as the man's foot was caught in the mud. He head the sucking squishes resume. If he shifted his hand a little closer to the window, he could feel the in-and-out of the air as the room and the rain breathed together. He could feel the soft misting of the rain as it landed and splattered outward onto his awaiting skin.
There was a faint smile on Julian's lips. He loved the rain. Not only for the miraculous smell of it, the strange sensation of so many gentle pinpricks of fleeting touch, but because Julian had studied biology with his tutor, Mr Jymes. Julian had learned that water was the source of all life; that long ago in the primordial soup life sprang into being, a scientific improbability, unbelievability and miracle. Water continued that miracle, restoring systems and nurturing its children, it's charges. Whenever water poured from the sky like this, Julian couldn't help thinking that water was showing affection to it's creations. He felt like the water was saying, "Hello, there. You looked like you could use a little pick me up. Care for a drink?" He knew it was silly as a budding scientist to personify water that way, but give him a break. He was only twelve.
"Master Julian?" Mrs Graham called, "Master Julian!"
The aging lady burst into the drawing room, skirts flying. "Ah. There you are." She straightened herself and strode over to the boy. She slammed the window down and he startled. "You shouldn't have the window open. You'll catch your death. We've been looking all over for you."
"I'm sorry."
She grabbed his arm and yanked him to his feet. "Don't be sorry. Just come along; you're late for your piano lesson."
Julian sighed as Mrs. Graham towed him out of the room. Lucky that she thought he was capable of walking as soon as they were in the hallway. His arm hurt. He could hear her trooping down the hall and was quick to follow.
She stopped about 20ft down, past three doors on the right, he knew, and held a door open. He reached a hand out to the wall and turned on his heel when he touched the door frame. Mrs. Graham slammed it behind him.
"Hello, son."
Julian does not see this, though.
He is blind.
He sat at an open window, smelling the unique smell of heaven-sent moisture, hearing it's rhythmic music. He heard the faint squish as the man trudged up the hill, the barely audible swear as the man's foot was caught in the mud. He head the sucking squishes resume. If he shifted his hand a little closer to the window, he could feel the in-and-out of the air as the room and the rain breathed together. He could feel the soft misting of the rain as it landed and splattered outward onto his awaiting skin.
There was a faint smile on Julian's lips. He loved the rain. Not only for the miraculous smell of it, the strange sensation of so many gentle pinpricks of fleeting touch, but because Julian had studied biology with his tutor, Mr Jymes. Julian had learned that water was the source of all life; that long ago in the primordial soup life sprang into being, a scientific improbability, unbelievability and miracle. Water continued that miracle, restoring systems and nurturing its children, it's charges. Whenever water poured from the sky like this, Julian couldn't help thinking that water was showing affection to it's creations. He felt like the water was saying, "Hello, there. You looked like you could use a little pick me up. Care for a drink?" He knew it was silly as a budding scientist to personify water that way, but give him a break. He was only twelve.
"Master Julian?" Mrs Graham called, "Master Julian!"
The aging lady burst into the drawing room, skirts flying. "Ah. There you are." She straightened herself and strode over to the boy. She slammed the window down and he startled. "You shouldn't have the window open. You'll catch your death. We've been looking all over for you."
"I'm sorry."
She grabbed his arm and yanked him to his feet. "Don't be sorry. Just come along; you're late for your piano lesson."
Julian sighed as Mrs. Graham towed him out of the room. Lucky that she thought he was capable of walking as soon as they were in the hallway. His arm hurt. He could hear her trooping down the hall and was quick to follow.
She stopped about 20ft down, past three doors on the right, he knew, and held a door open. He reached a hand out to the wall and turned on his heel when he touched the door frame. Mrs. Graham slammed it behind him.
"Hello, son."
Tuesday, October 19, 2010
Finally Something Literary!
Hey!
Guess what? I finally decided to pick up a book and it's a good one too! I'm very proud of myself. It's so literary. I was thinking of reading something for fun like finishing Eragon, but then I was like,
"Nahhhh. I should read that book by Stephen King."
So I did!
On Sunday night I cornered my parents into making a late night run to Borders (I say 'late night' but what I mean is, 6:30. When you have little siblings, and it gets dark out early, and the whole week was a busy chaotic mess, night tends to start about 4:45) and I managed to find On Writing: A Memoir of the Craft by Stephen King.
It's actually really interesting. The book is broken into sections, the first being an mini-account of King's memories growing up and getting into the writing business. The secound part of the book is about writing and what it takes to be a good writer (that's the part that I'm on. It's titled The Toolbox) and I assume that the third section is on the publishing/writing world.
I think the thing that I like about it is how informal and funny he writes. I've only read half of one of his lesser known novella's (the Langoliers) but-- lame as this may sound-- I've seen quite a few of his stories movie reproductions. The Stand, the Langoliers, Secret Window, The Mist, Dreamcatcher. And in each of his movies, he makes some sort of appearance. Usually it's just a quick cameo, but in the Stand he had was a minor character; a speaking role that was important to the plot. So I've heard him speak. He has this whine to his voice. And he speaks with a 'country' accent; he's from Maine, which I knew, but he also grew up in the lower class, moving around a lot with a single mother, which I didn't. When I was reading his memoirs, I could hear him speak. Seriously. It was like he was right next to me, reading over my shoulder. The man writes with such character! He's so personable! He shows everything as it is, he doesn't make a big deal over anything, but he gives it his own spin. He makes his life enjoyable by the way he writes.
That's what I want to do! I want to write like him, to make my experiences and memories better than as they are! I want to make girls and boys laugh out loud, and cry, and smile! He even makes his lesson's on the art of the written word amusing!
Right now he's talking about paragraphs and how they flow. How sentence length and composition can effect the flow of a piece. It's interesting, but sort of useless to me. At one point he says "The more fiction you read and write, the more you'll find your paragraphs forming on their own." I think that applies to me. I really don't care about paragraphs right now. I want the juicy stuff; bring on the things I don't know, Mr King! I'm ready and willing for the unknown!
(P.s. Did you see how this time, the post is more structured? I stuck to one subject. I didn't skip around like a fairy in a field, dancing in the own eddies of my mind. This time I kept it sweet and simple. Did you notice? Did you like it?)
Guess what? I finally decided to pick up a book and it's a good one too! I'm very proud of myself. It's so literary. I was thinking of reading something for fun like finishing Eragon, but then I was like,
"Nahhhh. I should read that book by Stephen King."
So I did!
On Sunday night I cornered my parents into making a late night run to Borders (I say 'late night' but what I mean is, 6:30. When you have little siblings, and it gets dark out early, and the whole week was a busy chaotic mess, night tends to start about 4:45) and I managed to find On Writing: A Memoir of the Craft by Stephen King.
It's actually really interesting. The book is broken into sections, the first being an mini-account of King's memories growing up and getting into the writing business. The secound part of the book is about writing and what it takes to be a good writer (that's the part that I'm on. It's titled The Toolbox) and I assume that the third section is on the publishing/writing world.
I think the thing that I like about it is how informal and funny he writes. I've only read half of one of his lesser known novella's (the Langoliers) but-- lame as this may sound-- I've seen quite a few of his stories movie reproductions. The Stand, the Langoliers, Secret Window, The Mist, Dreamcatcher. And in each of his movies, he makes some sort of appearance. Usually it's just a quick cameo, but in the Stand he had was a minor character; a speaking role that was important to the plot. So I've heard him speak. He has this whine to his voice. And he speaks with a 'country' accent; he's from Maine, which I knew, but he also grew up in the lower class, moving around a lot with a single mother, which I didn't. When I was reading his memoirs, I could hear him speak. Seriously. It was like he was right next to me, reading over my shoulder. The man writes with such character! He's so personable! He shows everything as it is, he doesn't make a big deal over anything, but he gives it his own spin. He makes his life enjoyable by the way he writes.
That's what I want to do! I want to write like him, to make my experiences and memories better than as they are! I want to make girls and boys laugh out loud, and cry, and smile! He even makes his lesson's on the art of the written word amusing!
The timid fellow writes The meeting will be held at seven o'clock becuase this somehow says to him, 'Put it this way and people will believe you really know.' Purge this quisling thought! Don't be a muggle! Throw back your shoulders, stick out your chin,and put that meeting in charge! Write The meeting's at seven. There, by God! Don't you feel better?"He makes what is being read entertaining, and that's what I worry the most about on my writing. Even if I write one hundred books, it doesn't mean jack unless people want to read them-- unless they are worth being read.
~ Stephen King, on passive voice versus active voice in On Writing,
pg 123
Right now he's talking about paragraphs and how they flow. How sentence length and composition can effect the flow of a piece. It's interesting, but sort of useless to me. At one point he says "The more fiction you read and write, the more you'll find your paragraphs forming on their own." I think that applies to me. I really don't care about paragraphs right now. I want the juicy stuff; bring on the things I don't know, Mr King! I'm ready and willing for the unknown!
(P.s. Did you see how this time, the post is more structured? I stuck to one subject. I didn't skip around like a fairy in a field, dancing in the own eddies of my mind. This time I kept it sweet and simple. Did you notice? Did you like it?)
Sunday, October 17, 2010
Numero Tres
Oh! Hey!
Yeah, Hi, I just went to this fantastic restuarant, called El Mariachi. You ever been to Albany?
Well, the next time you go, you have to check this place out. It's great. My friend Brittni and I went there today for an early dinner. I had Rebosos con Mole, which is fried plantains (like bananas) in a tortilla with Mole ("MOH-lay") sauce. Do you know what Mole sauce is?
Only the GREATEST SAUCE IN HISTORY. It's mostly very light flavored chocolate, but it's got a lot of spices in it. It's spicy :) And I love it. And it's fantastic on banana things with crispy chips. My friend Brittni and I go there whenever we can. I have to admit I have acquired something of an addiction. Everytime we go there that's the only thing I really eat. That, and virging strawberry daiquiri's.
The first time Bri and I went there and we ordered the daiquiri's we were very excited. Brittni because she absolutely loves daiquiri's and hadn't had one in forever, and I because we were in Mexican/Spanish restuarant with awesome vibes. We got the drinks, and we took a sip, and after a minute we both paused. It was great, but there was something off about them. Naturally, we kept drinking. And drinking. We couldn't figure out what was wrong with them.
"Hey," I said to her whilst slipping, "Do you think... Is it possible that she didn't give us virgin daiquiri's?"
Brittni froze. She smirked. We locked eyes, then looked our drinks. "It's possible..." She said. But that made me nervous. Shouldn't we say something? She shook her head. "They probably use the same blender." Oh, okay.
So we kept drinking, thinking that if there really was any alcohol we'd eventually feel the effects. The food came, we ate the food, Alexa freaked out because of the beautiful mole, and eventually it was time to leave. The daiquiri's were gone. BUT THE MYSTERIOUS TASTE WAS STILL THERE.
What could it be? We wondered as we left (that's a lie. Neither one of us really cared/rememered until we ate there again, a week later) what it could be.
The answer?
LIME!
The next time we had them, they tasted way better, knowing what the mysterious taste was.
So you have to try it. This restuarant. The Mole. The strawberry-lime daiquiri's. But don't go to the other El Mariachi's ('cause I guess there's more than one). You have to go to the one on the corner of Swan and Hamilton. It's the best.
Adios!
Yeah, Hi, I just went to this fantastic restuarant, called El Mariachi. You ever been to Albany?
Well, the next time you go, you have to check this place out. It's great. My friend Brittni and I went there today for an early dinner. I had Rebosos con Mole, which is fried plantains (like bananas) in a tortilla with Mole ("MOH-lay") sauce. Do you know what Mole sauce is?
Only the GREATEST SAUCE IN HISTORY. It's mostly very light flavored chocolate, but it's got a lot of spices in it. It's spicy :) And I love it. And it's fantastic on banana things with crispy chips. My friend Brittni and I go there whenever we can. I have to admit I have acquired something of an addiction. Everytime we go there that's the only thing I really eat. That, and virging strawberry daiquiri's.
The first time Bri and I went there and we ordered the daiquiri's we were very excited. Brittni because she absolutely loves daiquiri's and hadn't had one in forever, and I because we were in Mexican/Spanish restuarant with awesome vibes. We got the drinks, and we took a sip, and after a minute we both paused. It was great, but there was something off about them. Naturally, we kept drinking. And drinking. We couldn't figure out what was wrong with them.
"Hey," I said to her whilst slipping, "Do you think... Is it possible that she didn't give us virgin daiquiri's?"
Brittni froze. She smirked. We locked eyes, then looked our drinks. "It's possible..." She said. But that made me nervous. Shouldn't we say something? She shook her head. "They probably use the same blender." Oh, okay.
So we kept drinking, thinking that if there really was any alcohol we'd eventually feel the effects. The food came, we ate the food, Alexa freaked out because of the beautiful mole, and eventually it was time to leave. The daiquiri's were gone. BUT THE MYSTERIOUS TASTE WAS STILL THERE.
What could it be? We wondered as we left (that's a lie. Neither one of us really cared/rememered until we ate there again, a week later) what it could be.
The answer?
LIME!
The next time we had them, they tasted way better, knowing what the mysterious taste was.
So you have to try it. This restuarant. The Mole. The strawberry-lime daiquiri's. But don't go to the other El Mariachi's ('cause I guess there's more than one). You have to go to the one on the corner of Swan and Hamilton. It's the best.
Adios!
Saturday, October 16, 2010
This Will Be the 2nd
Hi again!
I'm so glad you could make it! You have no idea how happy it makes me that you decided to come back. And if you're new, welcome!
It's pretty much going to be the same thing as before. Feel free to give me feedback or critisism. I need it.
So, I really need a new title. I can't keep calling this thing "Within You". It sounds like some pansy self help book. What would I call it? What should it henceforth be named? I really want to call it something that references writing or reading or maybe one of my favorite books. Only problem with that being that I have A) No time to look through my bookshelves and B) No inspiration.
I've found out that writing a blog is a lot harder than it looks.
The other thing that I have to do is promote myself. Few if none (in my opinion) are going to stumble across this using the "Next Blog" button, so I really need to post my address whereever I can, get more followers and generally generate publicity for myself. Which is silly because let's be honest, I'm really just a teenager with an obession, and makes me feel sleazy because it requires me to sell myself.
But I've been trying to get my friends to read this, (via facebook and tumblr and deviantart) and so far I've got a few people looking. I've had a few a surprises and those surprises have caused me to look at them alittle bit closer.
It's like I'm walking through the forest, and I'm looking for a specific animal like a bear or something, and then there's commotion in the underbrush and I go over to investigate. It turns out to be a deer, but I've never seen a real live deer before, so I take some pictures. Now I'm looking for deers and bears.
Did you get the analogy? I'm looking for followers (bears) but as I'm looking for them, I find other people that are following me or leaving comments (deers) and now I'm almost more interested in finding deers. I mean, blogs for me to follow. There are alot of interesting people out there, you know.
One of the people that I've started following is this girl I know, named Kate. I didn't even know she had a blog! I didn't know she had an awesome, interesting blog! First thing I saw on her website was this:
Which looks pretty awesome. I've heard of Bob Dylan, but I know next to nothing about him. Didn't he write/sing that song "They Times They are a Changin' "? This movie makes me want to learn more about him. The idea that he could be so many people is unique and vibrant. It makes me want more. Did he have a multiple personality disorder? Was he secretly a fragmented individual? Or is the choice of direction a metaphor for the possiblities we all have inside of us?
Needless to say, "I'm Not There" is now in my queue on Netflix.
This morning I had a mini-panic attack. I HAVE SO MUCH TO DO. I wanted to make a bazillion posts and post them all at the same time. I keep getting ideas about what I want to write about. Like I have a rant I've been saving up, and I wanted to talk about the Flood in my Basement and how it's going to ruin Christmas. And the Muffin and Post-it analogy and also, perhaps most importantly, Bruce the Bruise.
But more than I have ideas to write do I have books to read. I really want to expland my reading tastes. I recently acquired The Road by Cormac McCarthy and I have at least twenty classics waiting for me on my selves. It just doesn't seem like I have the time.
:(
Yes, I know. I'll make the time.
Lastly, my little sister Clare turned 7 today. I couldn't help but feel a little sentimental. First we watched The Princess and the Frog --
(WHICH WAS ABSOLUTELY FREAKING AMAZING. I love Naveen. He's my new favorite prince. I love his character developement and personality. I'm a total sucker for french accents and jazz loving playboys. When the movie was still in the theaters I heard a lot of critism for it. Mostly about how it could be construed as rascist, and annoyance that Tiana wasn't technically a princess when Disney was labeling her as one. Tiana becomes a real princess in the end, but I liked the way she had to work for it. It teaches a better lesson to little girls all over the world-- not only that hard work pays off, but that if you really put your mind to it, you can accomplish anything. Because of that, The Princess and the Frog is officially one of my favorite all time Disney movies.)
-- and then the whole family went to her birthday party at the local bowling lanes. It was weird to see the different sides of her. Usually Clare is a happy-go-lucky kid, wrapped up completely in her own world. She often comes across as the stereotypical 'little sister', playing up the cuteness and innocence. But when we were watching the movie, my other little sister was constantly asking questions about things that had happened three minutes ago-- and Clare was answering with astute accuracy. I had never known that Clare was that observant. And then at the bowling lanes she was quiet. She socialized, but not like I expected her too. She was almost... hesitant. No, that's not the word. She almost seemed to ignor her friends. If they didn't come to her, she didn't go to them. She hung out with me and my sister Marie. (I also learned that she was a fantastic bowler)
I'm always surprised by the people around me. They're really a lot like characters in a book-- 2 dimensional until you say a certain thing and they reveil a little bit more of themselves. A good friend of mine once compared people to puzzles and how each moment you spend with them and each thing you know about them is a piece of that puzzle. You're always finding more pieces for their puzzle, but you'll never know the what the picture is about. It's funny how even a family member you've known for her whole life, even a child, can be such a complex puzzle.
How many pieces of my puzzle do you have?
At least a few by now. Blogs are funny-- You'll have so many pieces of me, but I'll have next to none of you.
Well, I have to be going. Books to read and deer to find. You understand.
I'm so glad you could make it! You have no idea how happy it makes me that you decided to come back. And if you're new, welcome!
It's pretty much going to be the same thing as before. Feel free to give me feedback or critisism. I need it.
So, I really need a new title. I can't keep calling this thing "Within You". It sounds like some pansy self help book. What would I call it? What should it henceforth be named? I really want to call it something that references writing or reading or maybe one of my favorite books. Only problem with that being that I have A) No time to look through my bookshelves and B) No inspiration.
I've found out that writing a blog is a lot harder than it looks.
The other thing that I have to do is promote myself. Few if none (in my opinion) are going to stumble across this using the "Next Blog" button, so I really need to post my address whereever I can, get more followers and generally generate publicity for myself. Which is silly because let's be honest, I'm really just a teenager with an obession, and makes me feel sleazy because it requires me to sell myself.
But I've been trying to get my friends to read this, (via facebook and tumblr and deviantart) and so far I've got a few people looking. I've had a few a surprises and those surprises have caused me to look at them alittle bit closer.
It's like I'm walking through the forest, and I'm looking for a specific animal like a bear or something, and then there's commotion in the underbrush and I go over to investigate. It turns out to be a deer, but I've never seen a real live deer before, so I take some pictures. Now I'm looking for deers and bears.
Did you get the analogy? I'm looking for followers (bears) but as I'm looking for them, I find other people that are following me or leaving comments (deers) and now I'm almost more interested in finding deers. I mean, blogs for me to follow. There are alot of interesting people out there, you know.
One of the people that I've started following is this girl I know, named Kate. I didn't even know she had a blog! I didn't know she had an awesome, interesting blog! First thing I saw on her website was this:
Which looks pretty awesome. I've heard of Bob Dylan, but I know next to nothing about him. Didn't he write/sing that song "They Times They are a Changin' "? This movie makes me want to learn more about him. The idea that he could be so many people is unique and vibrant. It makes me want more. Did he have a multiple personality disorder? Was he secretly a fragmented individual? Or is the choice of direction a metaphor for the possiblities we all have inside of us?
Needless to say, "I'm Not There" is now in my queue on Netflix.
This morning I had a mini-panic attack. I HAVE SO MUCH TO DO. I wanted to make a bazillion posts and post them all at the same time. I keep getting ideas about what I want to write about. Like I have a rant I've been saving up, and I wanted to talk about the Flood in my Basement and how it's going to ruin Christmas. And the Muffin and Post-it analogy and also, perhaps most importantly, Bruce the Bruise.
But more than I have ideas to write do I have books to read. I really want to expland my reading tastes. I recently acquired The Road by Cormac McCarthy and I have at least twenty classics waiting for me on my selves. It just doesn't seem like I have the time.
:(
Yes, I know. I'll make the time.
Lastly, my little sister Clare turned 7 today. I couldn't help but feel a little sentimental. First we watched The Princess and the Frog --
(WHICH WAS ABSOLUTELY FREAKING AMAZING. I love Naveen. He's my new favorite prince. I love his character developement and personality. I'm a total sucker for french accents and jazz loving playboys. When the movie was still in the theaters I heard a lot of critism for it. Mostly about how it could be construed as rascist, and annoyance that Tiana wasn't technically a princess when Disney was labeling her as one. Tiana becomes a real princess in the end, but I liked the way she had to work for it. It teaches a better lesson to little girls all over the world-- not only that hard work pays off, but that if you really put your mind to it, you can accomplish anything. Because of that, The Princess and the Frog is officially one of my favorite all time Disney movies.)
-- and then the whole family went to her birthday party at the local bowling lanes. It was weird to see the different sides of her. Usually Clare is a happy-go-lucky kid, wrapped up completely in her own world. She often comes across as the stereotypical 'little sister', playing up the cuteness and innocence. But when we were watching the movie, my other little sister was constantly asking questions about things that had happened three minutes ago-- and Clare was answering with astute accuracy. I had never known that Clare was that observant. And then at the bowling lanes she was quiet. She socialized, but not like I expected her too. She was almost... hesitant. No, that's not the word. She almost seemed to ignor her friends. If they didn't come to her, she didn't go to them. She hung out with me and my sister Marie. (I also learned that she was a fantastic bowler)
I'm always surprised by the people around me. They're really a lot like characters in a book-- 2 dimensional until you say a certain thing and they reveil a little bit more of themselves. A good friend of mine once compared people to puzzles and how each moment you spend with them and each thing you know about them is a piece of that puzzle. You're always finding more pieces for their puzzle, but you'll never know the what the picture is about. It's funny how even a family member you've known for her whole life, even a child, can be such a complex puzzle.
How many pieces of my puzzle do you have?
At least a few by now. Blogs are funny-- You'll have so many pieces of me, but I'll have next to none of you.
Well, I have to be going. Books to read and deer to find. You understand.
Friday, October 15, 2010
First Up
Hi, there.
How are you?
You're well? Good. That's what I like to hear.
So. Uh, hi. Welcome to the Blog. It's called "Within You" but that is definitely subject to change, just because if your mind skims over it really quickly it almost seems religious, and I really don't want this venture to have any religious opinion on it, whatsoever period. Maybe I'll change it to "The Blog". That sounds cool, if not a bit lame. I'm sure there must be other blogs-- older blogs-- out there with that name. Like, maybe that was the first blog ever. Maybe whoever invented the blog was typing away at his computer and created the slang version of "web log" (blog) and was like,
"MUAHAHA. And I shall call this THE BLOG. And they will FEAR the MIGHTY AWESOMENESS of my BLOG. MUAHAHA. HAHA."
At least, that's how I picture it.
Naming blogs seem like a fickle business. I feel like it's like naming a book-- usually you don't name it until you're half way done. Unless you start out with the name and work from there. But usually that method seems a little lame (I'm liking this word tonight). Those blogs/stories would be something like "A Story of a Girl" or just "Name" --- like in this case "Within You" or "Alexa's Blog". (Feel free to read those " " bits with a snooty airy tone)
At this point, you must be wondering
"SO what's the point of this whole thing. What's this girl's deal?"
Well, this girl's deal is that she likes to write---
"OH GOLDFISH. Here we go again. Just another girl whining about the world and her life and her friends. OH THE DRAMA."
NO. No. No, that's not it at all. I've tried that road before. I've tried the whine-whine and the woe-is-me business and and the self-inflicted drama. Thank you, but no. I'm done with that. You will be pleased to learn that the pity and angst has been replaced with determination and ambition. I actually have a point for this.
It's writing.
Seriously. My life's dream is to be a novelist. Not even be a novelist, but to publish a book. I've known I wanted to do this for a really long time (long time) and I know for a fact that I have good ideas. My plots are golden. I'm confidant in my creativity, and in my need to realize my dream. I'm confidant that I'll get there, despite all the hoopla of every other 'misunderstood teenage writer' who shoots off bells and whistles every chance they get saying they're going to make it one day when they really suck. Unlike them, this is not a 'maybe-one-day thing'. Unlike so many others, this is not a 'I'm-gonna-head-on-up-tuh-the-big-city-an'-make-it' thing. This is a "I-want-this-so-I'm-going-to-WORK-AT-IT" thing.
(Yuh readin' me here?)
So I've researched the major parts of getting published (I've decided to forgo the whole self-publish thing. I'm ambitious but not that ambitious) like editors and publishing houses; literary agents and query letters. Actually, I'm still in the process of researching. Right now I'm trying to ingest as much information about this new world as possible. Read as many books, look at as many websites, etc. And I recently read this book about The Whole Process. It's called Writing and Publishing: The Ultimate Teen Guide (It Happened to Me) by Tina P. Schwartz and she mentions in the book that anyone wishing to better themselves as a writer should a) read a lot b) read a lot of blogs c) write a lot. She also mentions that writing a blog is a good way to promote yourself as a writer, because it gets your name out and makes your writing more accessible.
Well, that freaked me out quite a bit, simply because I don't have a blog. I don't even write everyday! How the hedgehog am I supposed to get my writing out to the world if no one even knows who I am?! How am I supposed to better myself if I don't write every day? How am I supposed to know I'm really good if the only people that I really let read my works are my friends?
[ Sidenote: HELLO FRIENDS! This is your official shout-out! :) Thanks so much for reading, if you love me leave a comment :D ]
So I said to myself:
"Ohmyjigglypuff, Alexa. You have to make a blog."
And I did. (slash am)
Because yes, I'm confidant in my creativity. Yes, I am confidant that I want this enough. Yes, I am even ready for the inevitable rejection. I know it's going to come, and I'm okay with that. Do you know why? Because I'm SEVENTEEN. Because I have THE REST OF MY LIFE if I need it. The other day when I was freaking out about all the things I haven't done in my life to prepare myself for the decathlon of writing and publishing a novel, someone said something along the lines of, "Chill out. You are only a teenager. You've got the rest of your life to do stuff and accomplish things."
Yes, but. But that is no excuse for putting off something I can get started on right now. Just because I'm young, doesn't mean I have anything less to contribute. Doesn't mean that I don't have to push myself to become better.
That's why I'm doing this. That's why I'm committing myself to this little insignificant blog-- even if no one ever reads it but my friends, even if no one ever reads it at all!-- I am going to keep it up because it will be making myself a better writer. I'm confidant that I am worth the work. My dreams are worth the effort. I want this; I'm willing to work for it.
Maybe I'm not the writer I think I am. But by the time I publish my book, if I keep writing this, and stick to the plan, I will be. Or I'll be better.
That being said, I don't want you to think that this is only a blog about me and book-ing. Everyone says "Write what you know" so that's what I'll be doing. I'll post ramblings like this, and poems and links/commentaries to articles and other blogs. I have some friends on Tumblr so I'll probs be posting links to their sites. Maybe I'll post some papers if I write any that I'm particularly proud of. I'm also hoping to post pictures I'll create with my Wacom tablet :) But mostly I'll just write. Hopefully it will be interesting enough to get some followers. Not exactly sure how to go about doing that...
What's that? You've got to go? Oh, yeah, I don't blame you. It is getting late, and I'm sure you have other things to do.
Thanks for your time. Hope to see you again.
Goodnight. Goodbye.
How are you?
You're well? Good. That's what I like to hear.
So. Uh, hi. Welcome to the Blog. It's called "Within You" but that is definitely subject to change, just because if your mind skims over it really quickly it almost seems religious, and I really don't want this venture to have any religious opinion on it, whatsoever period. Maybe I'll change it to "The Blog". That sounds cool, if not a bit lame. I'm sure there must be other blogs-- older blogs-- out there with that name. Like, maybe that was the first blog ever. Maybe whoever invented the blog was typing away at his computer and created the slang version of "web log" (blog) and was like,
"MUAHAHA. And I shall call this THE BLOG. And they will FEAR the MIGHTY AWESOMENESS of my BLOG. MUAHAHA. HAHA."
At least, that's how I picture it.
Naming blogs seem like a fickle business. I feel like it's like naming a book-- usually you don't name it until you're half way done. Unless you start out with the name and work from there. But usually that method seems a little lame (I'm liking this word tonight). Those blogs/stories would be something like "A Story of a Girl" or just "Name" --- like in this case "Within You" or "Alexa's Blog". (Feel free to read those " " bits with a snooty airy tone)
At this point, you must be wondering
"SO what's the point of this whole thing. What's this girl's deal?"
Well, this girl's deal is that she likes to write---
"OH GOLDFISH. Here we go again. Just another girl whining about the world and her life and her friends. OH THE DRAMA."
NO. No. No, that's not it at all. I've tried that road before. I've tried the whine-whine and the woe-is-me business and and the self-inflicted drama. Thank you, but no. I'm done with that. You will be pleased to learn that the pity and angst has been replaced with determination and ambition. I actually have a point for this.
It's writing.
Seriously. My life's dream is to be a novelist. Not even be a novelist, but to publish a book. I've known I wanted to do this for a really long time (long time) and I know for a fact that I have good ideas. My plots are golden. I'm confidant in my creativity, and in my need to realize my dream. I'm confidant that I'll get there, despite all the hoopla of every other 'misunderstood teenage writer' who shoots off bells and whistles every chance they get saying they're going to make it one day when they really suck. Unlike them, this is not a 'maybe-one-day thing'. Unlike so many others, this is not a 'I'm-gonna-head-on-up-tuh-the-big-city-an'-make-it' thing. This is a "I-want-this-so-I'm-going-to-WORK-AT-IT" thing.
(Yuh readin' me here?)
So I've researched the major parts of getting published (I've decided to forgo the whole self-publish thing. I'm ambitious but not that ambitious) like editors and publishing houses; literary agents and query letters. Actually, I'm still in the process of researching. Right now I'm trying to ingest as much information about this new world as possible. Read as many books, look at as many websites, etc. And I recently read this book about The Whole Process. It's called Writing and Publishing: The Ultimate Teen Guide (It Happened to Me) by Tina P. Schwartz and she mentions in the book that anyone wishing to better themselves as a writer should a) read a lot b) read a lot of blogs c) write a lot. She also mentions that writing a blog is a good way to promote yourself as a writer, because it gets your name out and makes your writing more accessible.
Well, that freaked me out quite a bit, simply because I don't have a blog. I don't even write everyday! How the hedgehog am I supposed to get my writing out to the world if no one even knows who I am?! How am I supposed to better myself if I don't write every day? How am I supposed to know I'm really good if the only people that I really let read my works are my friends?
[ Sidenote: HELLO FRIENDS! This is your official shout-out! :) Thanks so much for reading, if you love me leave a comment :D ]
So I said to myself:
"Ohmyjigglypuff, Alexa. You have to make a blog."
And I did. (slash am)
Because yes, I'm confidant in my creativity. Yes, I am confidant that I want this enough. Yes, I am even ready for the inevitable rejection. I know it's going to come, and I'm okay with that. Do you know why? Because I'm SEVENTEEN. Because I have THE REST OF MY LIFE if I need it. The other day when I was freaking out about all the things I haven't done in my life to prepare myself for the decathlon of writing and publishing a novel, someone said something along the lines of, "Chill out. You are only a teenager. You've got the rest of your life to do stuff and accomplish things."
Yes, but. But that is no excuse for putting off something I can get started on right now. Just because I'm young, doesn't mean I have anything less to contribute. Doesn't mean that I don't have to push myself to become better.
That's why I'm doing this. That's why I'm committing myself to this little insignificant blog-- even if no one ever reads it but my friends, even if no one ever reads it at all!-- I am going to keep it up because it will be making myself a better writer. I'm confidant that I am worth the work. My dreams are worth the effort. I want this; I'm willing to work for it.
Maybe I'm not the writer I think I am. But by the time I publish my book, if I keep writing this, and stick to the plan, I will be. Or I'll be better.
That being said, I don't want you to think that this is only a blog about me and book-ing. Everyone says "Write what you know" so that's what I'll be doing. I'll post ramblings like this, and poems and links/commentaries to articles and other blogs. I have some friends on Tumblr so I'll probs be posting links to their sites. Maybe I'll post some papers if I write any that I'm particularly proud of. I'm also hoping to post pictures I'll create with my Wacom tablet :) But mostly I'll just write. Hopefully it will be interesting enough to get some followers. Not exactly sure how to go about doing that...
What's that? You've got to go? Oh, yeah, I don't blame you. It is getting late, and I'm sure you have other things to do.
Thanks for your time. Hope to see you again.
Goodnight. Goodbye.
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