Happy Endings, Fairy Tale Re-Tellings, and a Non-Related Contest

Well, I've sent off another query letter. It will probably come back as a no, but I need to keep trying or I'll stop completely. And I don't want to stop completely. Because I really like writing. And I really want to be able to share my stories with people. Mostly, because then people will know what I'm talking about when I make referewnces to my books, before remembering that no one has read them, and then I feel like a self-involved attic-hermit. Well. I do want to live in an attic someday and write books. Which is kinda' self-involved. Which. Hm.

MOVING ON like a truck on the highway loaded up with sugar plum fairies:

I have been writing a re-telling of the Little Mermaid and it is very annoying, because all the rest of the stories I've written in that world (Ferdanly) are all told in past tense, but this one wants to be written in present tense. Lame. Not that I have anything against present tense. I have used it for other series. BUT not this one. This one is supposed to be past. I'm letting my characters get away with it for now, but after the first draft we will have a long talk, I assure you.

It's been an interesting process, because the story keeps trying to be force its way into having a happy ending, and I'm having to work with all my might to make it only a nominally happy ending. It can't be entirely happy. That would ruin everything. Because 1) It messes up the whole process of the fact that fairytales are falling apart 2) It ruins what I'm going to do three books from now 3) I don't really like happy happy endings.

Fortunately, I have this character. Her name is Ionuin. She can get away with breaking whatever rules she wants. And, after some finagling, I was able to use her in order to get my books ending the place it needs to be: almost happy, but not quite.

Because life doesn't work out perfect happy happy. There's some happy and there's some not so happy, and that's the way I want my books to be. Some happy. Some not so happy. And some maiming and killing and fighting and brawling and using long ridiculous words that most people have not heard of: like concatenate.

ALSO I went to BEA and have been reading like mad crazy, and I will be writing reviews every Thursday for the 12 Down Unders, like for middle grade, and chapter books, and picture books over at BWOB: Booksellers Without Borders (follow the link thing HEREhttp://www.booksellerswithoutbordersny.com/). AND I will be having a contest tomorrow to give away two books by RL Stine SO, feel free to drop by there tomorrow.

AND If you could have any fairy tale re-done, which one would that be? Are there any that you think have been over-done? Or never done? Do you have a favorite folk tale that no one ever talks aboiut sufficiently?

The Threads and Bubbles of Reality

As a writer of fantasy I believe in the possibility of multiple realities. And because I have an insane imagination sometimes it seriously feels like a reality threaded next to this one is getting really close - like having two bubbles come up side by side, and either they will merge or pop - and it makes me wonder...

What would that be like? How would that affect us? Would it even affect us at all?

Say our bubble of reality sidles up alongside another bubble of reality:

Would it cause the bubble to pop?

Or would it cause the bubble to become just a smaller add on to our bubble world:


If our bubble of reality pops a next door neighbor bubble, what happens to that reality? Does it no longer exist? Does it pop up and exist elsewhere? What if it gets downsized and become nothing but an add on bubble, like in the above picture? Will reality just become a fragment of what it was, like a shard of glass that used to be part of a larger whole, but is now just a piece of its formal self?


Can you imagine if our choices affected the movement of our bubble of reality? That would be crazy. Unlikely, probably not true at all, but it is interesting to think about. Most of my stories concern reality and its duplicates, or the bending of reality, or the fluidity of reality, at least in some manner.

What about you? Do you think about reality? Do you think reality is just one bubble out of many, or do you think of reality more like a cinder block, solid and unmoving and singular?

And Then the World Exploded...

My friend 'Rosie' and I write stories together.

It is because of her that Spakes exist and I have a series of novels based on mythologically real creatures.

ALSO... We and another friend 'Stasi' are writing a book together about Elves, and Fairies, and Pixies.

ALSO... Rosie and I are writing a story about Twins.

AND... The more we spend time together the more we realize we have REALLY WEIRD connections between our stories.

Like... My character being the mother of one of her characters.

Like... Her character being the daughter of one of my mythological creatures.

Like... The fact that our stories are becoming more and more complex and connected.

There is a part of my brain that says YOU CAN'T DO THAT because - normally - authors aren't allowed to write worlds together with a second author while still keeping both authors autonomous. BUT... Then there is another part of my brain, the rebellious part, that says I can do whatever I want as long as I write stories that other people (preferably LOTS of people because that would be totes cool) will want to read.

Do you want to be CONFUSED? I will attempt to draw a diagram...

YOU SEE... There is a reality sideways from ours and there are three worlds, Earth (also known as Jezkana), Gorsonian, and Galsha (which is Rosie's and I'm probably spelling it wrong). They look like this:

The Universe is Purple...

And They are all connected in a way that is hard to explain. It looks like this:

Underneath all of these worlds is a second world known as the Land of Faerie.

Think of it as like a parfait, with layers of worlds that go beyond space and time...

And connected to Faerie are three sub-worlds, home of Fairies, Pixies, and Elves...

There is one more thing you should know: Connected to the earth (as well as the other worlds) are hundreds of thousands of realities spreading out like a fan or like ripples in a pond...

The Spake reality is the closest one.

Not that it matters a whole lot...

And if ANY thread of reality should malfunction or get torn apart, because everything is connected, it will all circle out and destroy stinking EVERYTHING...

And that just makes my brain HURT. ALSO... It gives me an Insane number of ideas and makes me want to make giant posters to try and understand it better. Woo. So hard.

NOW... Hopefully I haven't CONFUSED YOU ENTIRELY. But I probably have. ALSO... Hopefully I haven't given too much away. BUT... I trust you guys and needed to tell SOMEONE. And you guys are someones.

SO.... Have you ever had a story idea EXPLODE and give you more story info then you really thought you needed to know?

Whoops... I Was Supposed to Blog About This Months Ago

SOOOOOO... Something exciting happened to me last... November? I think it was. You see, I was at a birthday party talking to a friend when she asked if I could come and talk about Publishing at her Book Club.

I said something along the lines of: "Omgoodness... YES!" And looked something like this:

Only... I look a bit less Asian, because I am not really of that lovely ethnicity.

ANYWAY... So my friend said to bring the first chapter of the book I was telling her about (WhiteWashed) so I did. I showed up at her school and walked in to the Visitor booth thing and...

No one knew what I was talking about. What book club? What person are you talking about? We have no library? (Okay, that last one is a lie...)

AND I WAS FREAKING MY FACE OFF... Very quietly inside. Like a possum.

Possum!

But finally I was able to get where I needed to go and I answered some questions about publishing and writing and stuff and then I got to read the first bit of the first chapter of my book.

And...

It was insane. Because although some people obviously didn't care and were just like, whatever, it's some weird chick in an ugly shirt reading some boring story... BUT... There were others that were leaning forward and were listening and omgoodness... they LAUGHED at my jokes and actually thought I could be humorous. AND, some even looked disappointed when I stopped. It was crazy. The feeling was like DRUGS only worse and better and FREE and not illegal.

And I knew without a doubt that I want to do this FOR THE REST OF MY LIFE.

And then, apparently, I will grow wings and become a bug.

BUT... I will be reading my stories to people who actually Like them and that is SO exciting it makes me want to go query RIGHT NOW.

An Old Love of My Life

I was eight years old. I had recently written my Brave Girl Series (very lame, trust me) and I came across a picture I had drawn. (Thanks to this picture -->)

Inspiration struck (not unlike a hammer) and I started writing a story about two islands, a heroic girl, and one evil man.

Then I stopped. Probably had something to do with the fact that I moved from Virginia up to New York. Stories got boxed up and I moved on. Worked on Brave Girl Series again. Then there was the Underground (with plot inconsistencies that would take your breath away).

Later, when I was about seventeen and had recently finished the Novel of Magnitude (which needs more editing than a raw piece of chicken) I started typing again at that old story. Slashed the beginning. Expanded a scene. Added intrigue and mystery.

Then I hit a massive black wall. You see, I don't have Writer's Block. Sometimes there are pebbles or very small rocks. Sometimes there are caverns I cannot get to the back of, or canyons I cannot jump over quite yet. But this was a giant black wall that I could not climb. Having learned something about the writing process since I was eight I knew what I had to do. I set the story aside.

I even moved the story from my Serious Folder (the books I know I will finish) on my computer to my Idea folder. It felt like giving up, but I knew that one day - - One Day - - I would finish it.

Then a few days ago at dinner I finished eating my taco (so unrelated to my story. They don't have tacos in that world. They don't even have cows.) and quickly descended into Zombie Mode. I went downstairs and had to search desperately until I found it, buried within file folders (I have an obsession with file folders). I opened it up and read some to figure out where I was and I wrote, and I wrote.

The black wall was gone.

There is re-writing to be done. The Protagonist will probably have to be made younger, as it's more of a middle grade story than a young adult one (though it has some content, like people dying, that makes me uncertain). The beginning needs more work than a hurricaned beach house. My one character (Zing) desperately needs a new name. My eight year old self thought Zing was a great name, but my twenty-one year old self is not impressed.

I hope to finish at least the first draft of the story this year. I've been wanting to write a middle grade novel, and after reading a few dozen this past year I feel more confident in my ability.

It is so strangely peaceful to finally work on this book again. I have been waiting years and I cannot wait to see how it will finish out.

How 'bout you? Ever Re-Fallen in Love with a Story Idea? Ever had to take a break from a story, even if you Absolutely Loved it?

Stranger Than Fiction Blogfest!

So Lindsey (aka DWAP) and Vic (aka aspiring_x) had a Stranger than Fiction Blogfest/Contest that was Super Fun! As it is the 22nd I'm posting my entry which will be found below:

Broken Things

“Hurry!” I hissed. Rose gagged on a plant she had somehow almost swallowed (that girl is talented) and stumbled over to me. We both ducked under the sign that we wouldn’t read because then we could honestly say we hadn’t read the sign. It was a tactic my younger brother had taught me. I probably shouldn’t listen to my brother, since he falls off of roofs and swallows handfuls of gummy bears whole just for fun. But my brother wasn’t what I was thinking about. I was thinking about the old abandoned building I was sneaking into.

Rose and I stop inside and stare. We had both dreamed about this day. It was a building we had written stories about, had wondered about, had done research on. There is a feeling of awe we both feel, standing there with broken glass under our feet, bits of boards stacked up nearby.

Carefully, cautiously, we walk forward, through each room. We wonder about the stories each room contains. We run our fingers along the cracked green paint and step around the peeling grey tile.

In one room there is an ugly grey desk and an old record player. There’s a sign for the missing pool table. Rose wonders aloud, “Why was the pool table taken, but not this,” and places a finger on the record player. I shake my head. “Why did they take all of the curtains except that last one?” I point to the single fluttering yellow curtain. It is a strange thing. I never know who decides what is taken, what is left behind. We go upstairs and stare at the abandoned library. Books are scattered over the floor like a thousand lost souls. I turn away and don’t know whether I’m going to cry or throw up. It is just… wrong.

Rose tilts her head and whispers, “I’m far away from home…” The others who come here have spray painted words along the halls because they don’t understand the hollowed nature of abandoned buildings. They just feel the hollowness, I guess. But that one sentence is different, holds sadness in every stroke. It’s home here in this broken place.

At one of the other staircases Rose squats down and flips through the pages of an old Bible. There are pages missing, notes and cross-references scrawled in fading grey pencil. Rose reads the notes out loud as I sit on the bottom step and drag my toe through the debris of papers and disemboweled books. I imagine that each paper is a part of someone’s life; a part that they lost and can never get back.

“Why was this left here?” Rose asks, her voice breaking, but I shake my head. I don’t know why. I don’t know why anything was abandoned here with this building. “Come on,” I whisper. “It’s time to go.”

Before we leave, though, we stop in one last room downstairs. There’s an altar to the left. Bits of marble and plaster have crumbled and fallen. Blue tiles with golden scrollwork have sighed and given up. They lie on the ground, an unfinished mosaic. I imagine rows of boys kneeling on the ground, praying, and singing and filling the room with the music of being alive. I imagine the priest up at the front holding his hands up toward the sky-painted squares of ceiling. I wonder what words were spoken. Stepping carefully Rose and I walk over to the room behind the altar. Everywhere I see words and thoughts pressed against the walls, in between the cracks of missing mortar.

“I wish the walls could talk,” Rose whispers and I wonder if we’re thinking the same thing. We do that sometimes. As if we were twins in another reality, and this reality messed that up, putting us in different families, in different times. But here, in this broken down building, age and family and differences don’t matter. There are just the echoes of a dying place that used to be a home.

We leave, making sure we’re alone first, that no one is waiting outside as they walk their dogs or make out in the square of green grass. No on is there and we run to the side, push through the broken metal wall that separates the world from this broken place. They say it’s not safe. Of course not. Broken things are never safe.

We walked back to the car then, occasionally glancing back at the building that we will always love. We’ve seen its heart, we’ve seen its soul, and now it’s time to go home.

Have a great weeks guys! And if I don't post before then, Merry Christmas!! Ohmygoodness... This year went by Way Too Fast. Have a lovely day my LamNams, and if you're interested, I believe on one of the two ladies' blog there should be a linkydink for anyone else involved in this blogfest/contest. I really have no idea because I'm writing this entry early since I will have No Time tomorrow (which is now today). Anyway! :D

NaNo Update...

With the help of Twitter and my Twitter friends on there, I was able to convince my friend, H.M. Komorowski, to write my NaNo novel for me. Finally I convinced him, considering the idea included exploding wardrobes and creepy forests. I was very happy to sit back and watch him write until this morning.

As I may have mentioned before, a whole LOT of my ideas come from dreams.

I am the cat, and the ambiguous 'Z' is a story idea

Thus I woke up with a Serious Problem. I had two ideas to pursue for this month. And I like them both. And I'm having trouble writing either one. This is why I decided it is NOT a good idea to finish writing a novel the eight days before NaNoWriMo. Just NOT a good idea. *shakes head*

Now I must decide what to do... Exploding Wardrobes or an Excess of Sugary Cereals? The choice is just so difficult.

Am I the only one who finds this picture Disturbing??

Anyway. That's where I am right now. ALSO, in an hour I have to run to my new job and try not to DIE. I haven't worked for two months. It will be Weird. Definitely Daunting.

NaNo Now!... Well... Almost

Like some other bloggy people I too am going to be doing NaNoWriMo this year. Unlike some other bloggy people, I still have No Idea what to write. I'm guessing I'll figure it out, just picking something randomly when the time comes. What'll be interesting is on November 1 I'm going to be taking a trip down to VA in order to visit a Secret College, so my first two writing days will be full of Driving Long Distances. Hopefully I'll be able to get home early enough on Tuesday that not too much time will be lost. Ah well. I'll have enough days to make up for it, hopefully.

BUT...

Last year I was going to do a Videcumentary because I knew some people had done such a thing before. But I didn't because I was in school, had a job, and was writing a novel. Plus other things I'm sure. Anyway. This year I will attempt to make some vlogs, and I'm warning you they will be very Boring. I'm trying to think of a way to Spice it up, so if anybody has any ideas, feel free to advise me. No idea is too stupid. Wait. I take it back. Some ideas are way beyond stupid. But. Anyway.

Right now it WILL NOT LOAD... But as soon as I can get it to load, I totally will.

And that's about all, my bloggy lamnams! Oh... By the way... Thank you for all your encouragement! I did finish WhiteWashed and am now Editing it. So Exciting! :D

Almost There

It is very strange. There is a certain story I am working on called WhiteWashed. I have not told you about it yet because this is the story behind it:

One day on the way to watch fireworks at a Secret Undisclosed Place I wrote a page or two that i considered to be about Cinderella's side-kick. I thought, la de da de da. It would be fun to finish this one day.

The aforementioned one day happened when I was going through all my notebooks and typing bits and pieces into Glom (my laptop) when I came across Cinerella's Side-Kick.

20,000 words later I stopped typing and realized that it was much darker outside. It was very weird. So I saved the document after hemming and hawing over what to wall it. You see, I almost never get past 8 pages without knowing what to call it. I had gotten to like, 20, and still had No Idea. It was very disturbing. Finally I settled on WhiteWashed and had no idea how the name of the book would tie in with the actual book. That was Not Good.

A month or so later brought around the month of October. I was determined to finish one more book this year besides my NaNo one (more on that in a later Blog) because of a Decision that I made at the beginning of this year to write a novel every month. I failed after the Thanet's Curse fiasco (still haven't finished that). So last week or so I started typing away and wrote about 4,000 more words. Then I knew I was going to get a job soon and started write All Day. I hit 9,000 in one day and went to sleep with my eyes feeling Dead.

Now I'm at 58,000 words and I don't know what to do. I haven't even gotten used to the idea of Writing this story and it's already finishing up. I mean, I love that. Somehow the title of the book ties in wonderfully and there are more psychos in one book then I ever thought I'd have (well, other than the story about the Psycho Place, but that doesn't count). Oh. And she's not really Cinderella's side-kick. Cinderella ended up with a slightly different name and is not important, I am so glad. I did end up with a bunch of mythological creatures and the most popular 'The Ooze.' Who does not look like this:

I almost want to buy one of these...

The good news is that editing will be Fun because the story is still like new to me.

Does anyone else have Surprise stories that snuck up on you when you weren't looking?

A Really, Really Long Time Ago

When I was younger I used to write stories and give them to my parents. Sometimes I freaked them out (Do Not write stories about parents abusing their children and then give said story to parents).

You see, we used to live in VA and we knew the Dude who was running for Governor and got all sorts of Free Paper from him that had fancy holes in the side. Perfect! And why was this perfect?Because yarn fit into these holes so easily. See?

Because of how Ridiculous this story was, I knew I had to share it with you all. I kept all of the original terrible spelling because I believe that sometimes children understand spelling better than the English language.

Here is "The Best Friends" as told by my past self. I like to call her Pasomi. Notes by my present self are in Blue, because Blue is Pretty.

Wonc apan [I know I'm trying to say once upon, but all I can think of is wonking pans] a time ther was a littel boy. He was very rood. And in thet Land far away ther was a Littel Girl [I love how she gets capitalized, but the boy doesn't]. She was very pliat [*cough* Polite is a hard word to spell] She and the boy war Prins and Prinses. Won day the dad said thet The Prinses shood have a freind but the Princ was the only one. the Parints war sad.

"We have to trie," said the dad.

"Do we have to?"

"Yes we do."

The next day they drot [meaning brought. I got d's and b's confused All the Time] the Prinses to the casil but she did not like it very much. Wen thay got ther the Prince did not Like it ether. Thay had to play together.

"Yuk," said the boy.

"Yuk indeed," [Favorite Line!] said the girl.

"Do we have to?"

"Yes you do."

"Please can I go and play somethen els?"

"No, you must play whith hir."

After a wile thay war best frainds and they married and had lots of boys and Gils [I think I meant girls, unless the girl was really a fish] and got a cat and a dog and lived hapily ever The End.

I can't help but be reminded of the Swan Princess. Prince and Princess not liking each other? Being forced to play? Weird.

And there is something seriously wrong if the Only Person in the World that she can be friends with is this boy. Where are all the other children? No wonder they had lots of babies. They're trying to re-populate their world, duh. *rolls eyes*

New Ideas and Stuff Like That

SO...

My job recently ended, since it was only a summer job. Now, for most people this wouldn't be the end of the world, but when I'm not in college (which I'm not because of issues with money and stuff) and don't have a job I Shut Down. I have no idea why. It's stupidness incarcerated. Wait. Incarnate. Something like that.

You are silly, and for that crime you will be Imprisoned Forever!!

BUT... In the mean time I have had some time to look over story stuff and figure out some pretty excited Plotness...

1) For Pixie Princess:

I wrote a story about a girl who lives with Dwarves, for the purpose of writing about Dwarves. (And don't you dare steal this idea, because I love my little Dwarves. They are so crazy interesting! Ahem. Anyway. None of my LamNams are thieves as far as I know, so I'm not really worried.)

This is the face of someone who's not worried.

No.

I'm serious.

Google says so, and Google never lies.

Anyway! When the story was just getting interesting I kick the main character out of the Dwarf-Land and make her go away. That's Stupid! So I decided I shouldn't do such a ridiculous thing. Which means I have to write like, a whole bunch. I'll probably end up doubling it in size. Which is good, because it was too short. But it's a little bit sad, because I thought I was Done, and it's in my Done folder, and now it's not. Fortunately, I love the story so it's not that big of a deal. Plus, it will make the whole idea So Much Better! Which is good.

Good - Like the Good Stuff

2) My friend is editing my book and got me back notes for the first 8 pages and I added another 1200 words or so, because I needed to add in a couple more scenes with Scotch at school. Plus, I might've killed someone. (Oh, yes. I was telling someone that and said "If you have a problem, just kill someone," and realized I forgot to qualify that statement. Only kill people if they're Not Real). It was all very exciting! And I think my story is so much better now. :) Yay!

And...

Blogger Invasion Blogfest: Late, but Here

So I totally forgot I signed up for my sis' blogfest so here it is, late, but here.

---

Zombies. I knew it not just by the smell, but because they were lurching, and decomposing and well… It’s just pretty obvious. I hunkered down behind the over-turned couch and looked over at the two people on my left.

“Ready?”

The first one, Palindrome, cocked her gun and nodded. “Ready.” An evil grin spread over her face and I was suddenly intensely glad I wasn’t a Zombie. “I’m just about… Shhh,” the other one, Falen, pulled at her aviator cap and shushed the little yipping dogs next to her. “Yvie!” Then she turned and pulled out a strange looking steam-powered device. “Ready.”

“Me too!” I turned to look on my other side, at Rose, a short girl with not-blond hair. She held up a Spake knife and grinned. “This should work on Zombies too.”

“And I’ll use my Karate-chop-action-skillz,” Sonshinemusic said, because despite being sunny and bubbly she also has mad skills.

“Okay, just be careful.” I held in a short breath. “Okay, on the count of three. One, two…”

“NO!” Mia shouted, rushing into the room, trailing a stream of sparkles in her wake. At first I didn't know where the sparkles were coming from, until I saw Tessa dancing behind Mia, a huge grin on her face, waving a bucket of glitter labeled 'Zombie Stuff.' The Zombies stopped, staring at the glitter like dolts. “#Zombiesaren’tevil #youshouldtotesnotkillthem.”

I stared at her, awed by the genius of hashtags. But then I shook my head. “These ones are evil! I know because they are ruled by the Zombie Queen Joan Crawford, and those zombie kittens belong to Evil Blam. They must be destroyed!”

"I think Thor agrees," Amalia said, nodding her head. "He doesn't like Zombies. They get glitter everywhere, and everyone knows glitter is my arch nemesis."

“Wait!” Laura Marcella came dancing in, holding a book above her head. “I know there’s a quote in here somewhere that will solve this problem.” Palindrome sighed noisily, probably distressed with the thought that she couldn’t shoot anything. One of Falen’s dogs went over to sniff one of the Zombie kittens, and Rose went over to poke one of the Zombies.

“Hehe… It feels funny,” Rose burbled.

“Here,” Laura Marcella pointed to something in her book, and I peered over her shoulder, curious. “In order to stop Zombies from being evil, one must give them Rubber Duckies to feed upon.”

“Weird,” said I.

“That #rockssocks!” said Sonshine.

“I have ducks!” said J.M. Neeb, appearing out of nowhere. He threw a couple of Rubber Duckies at the Zombies, who ingested them readily, and the Evilness drained straight out of them. “Hooray!” we all shouted happily, except Rose who didn’t think the story was violent enough.

“I think I’ve forgotten something,” I said, and suddenly the front door opened and all my bloggy friends came tumbling, prancing, and walking primly in. We started a whole sha-bang of a party, Zombies and all.

--

Yay! Hope y'all enjoyed. I'll try to get around to anyone else who did this blogfest. Oh! And if you want to write one, go ahead. It's okay if you're late or whatever. I was, so I don't think it's a huge deal. This is mostly about having fun and showing love for fellow bloggers (my lamnams!) Anywho...

N is for Names

I totally got the idea for this post from Cheri. Everyone needs to have names for the characters. If you have been able to write a story without the character's names I will... Oh. Wait. Okay, so I DID write a short story and the characters did not have names, but that doesn't count. The point is most of the time people in stories have got to have names.

There can be very many reasons behind the names of my peeps, and each individual story tends to have a theme behind the reason for me choosing the names. Did that make sense? Good.

In Blackburn's Prisoner and Thanet's Curse I chose names based on their meaning, and their origin. This was the first time I have ever done this (writing high fantasy I tend to make up names instead.) It was fantastic! I came across some of my favorite names, like:

Cynferth: Welsh, meaning Beautiful Chief. Wait? Really?? Snap. I thought it meant something else. Oh well. It's still a really cool name.

Cenweard: English, meaning Wise Guardian. I LOVE this name. Sadly, I could never name my child this because he would be made fun of so bad.

Nadra: Swahili, meaning Special. This fits her perfectly. I was trying to find a name that started with 'N' that had its origins in Africanishness. And it needed to be short and I wanted it to mean something like 'unusual' so I was very excited.

Then in Haunbrinth everyone is named after real-life people. Not much to tell there. And yes, I did get permission from everyone. Especially the one girl Steph, because she turned out to be a mad angry person with issues.

Cinnamon and Calamus: or Why You Shouldn't Trust Spakes I have peeps divided in two. First there are spakes, who are named after people in the Bible.

Obadiah: Hebrew, God's worker

Solomon: Hebrew, Peace

Micaiah : Hebrew, who is like God?

Sweet! I didn't know what they meant before, I just picked them 'cause they're Bible names. That's pretty cool. Everyone else has weird names that come from I don't know where. Some are middle names of the people they're based on, and some people are named things like Scotch, or Emdy, or Jacqueline, just because that's who they are.

Oy. I need to stop having so many stories that are just floating around.

Oh! My sis told me about these! They are magical.

So what about you? Is there any specific reason you pick out names for your characters, or do they just come to you? Oh, and what was the weirdest name you ever used for one of your characters?

M is for Mouse

I MISSED A DAY!!!! Augh.... The shame. *hangs head*

Stupid school.

Anyway, so what happened while I was a way:

My sister lost her mouse. She wrote a letter to him here. What she doesn't know is that her mouse did leaves a note for her, but he left it in my room. He is a very confused mouse, so you can't blame him too badly. This is what his note said:

Dear Smoochie-poos of a Rebecca,

I am terribly sorry that I left without warning. I know you must be very worried. I promise you, it was not my fault. After you had fallen asleep for the night the mice from the ceiling came down and attacked me without warning, stealing me away to their dark domain. The Queen of the Racing Mice (that's what they call her) saw me from a hole in a ceiling and demanded her legions to come and claim me as one of their own. I had no choice. Now I am eternally stuck up here, where they continually make fun of me for not having a tail. I know you never cared that I didn't have a tail. It makes me missing you an awful lot. I pray you are moving on, finding new mice in the world, because I do not think it possible for me to be free from the clutches of the Queen of the Racing Mice.

Forever yours and tailess,
Your Mousey-wousey

Awww... What sadness. It also contained this picture:

So cute...

I'm not sure if this is the Queen of the Racing Mice, or one of her minions. Hopefully one day the Tailess Mouse can be freed of his captors and find his way home.

P.S. If you've commented and I have yet to visit your blog it's only because of school, my cars brakes having to be replaced, and my general harriedness. I am so excited that I've gotten so many comments, and people caring about what I have to say. You all deserve a muffin!

D is for Debris

The fabulous Falen had a writing prompt contest a little whiles back, and in my hemming and hawing about what to post today Sonshine said, "Ooh! Post your short story!" So I figured I would.

*Update*

Due to the Author's Borderline Skitsifrenia the short story has been removed. But here's a pretty picture:

Being Sporadic is Not Always Useful

Ergh, it's been much too long since last I posted. At least, it feels like ages have passed. The reason being is because I haven't had anything interesting happen to me at all. No. Seriously. Usually I have weird teacher stories, or evil library stories, or even strange conversations stories. But this last week was Spring Break so I spent the entire time writing and reading and being a bum. I slept a ridiculous amount of time. More than a bear in hibernation taking sleeping pills.

Or sleeping like a bum in a bear costume.

I don't know why, but I keep expecting Little Red Riding Hood

to come bounding along with an ax.

I'm very much a sporadic person. (Hey! Look, a cow!) And so focusing on one book at a time, for more than a month at a time, really stretches my patience. (Although I spent six months on my Massive Book, which is strange...) Also, I'm going to be taking another year off of college, because I'm still unsure what I should even go to college for. Especially because what I really want to be is a full-time author. But you can't just decide to be that one day. It takes work, and sweat, and a crazy insane mind.

Eek! I put in "crazy writer" and this is what came up

Ack! This only means one thing.

Little Red Riding Hood is going to hunt me down and kill me!

Thus, leaving me with two options. Well, two main options. I still have my back-up plan on convincing my parents that I have a split personality, so that I can be sent to a mad house. Ooh! Although, that would be perfect research for one story I've had to put on hold. Hmmm... I wonder if I could get in trouble for pretending to be crazy? Can one be sued for such an action? Anyway, one of the options is to just spend the rest of the year writing whatever I want, because once I am a full-blown author I will never have that chance again. (Good grief, that sounds dramatic.) The other option is to just pick one of my completed manuscripts and stick with editing it and work on querying for it, and not giving up on it until I have an agent, an editor, a publisher, and a bunch of reader people to buy it.

Getting published is like pumpkins

I will find a way to convince you of this later

The second option is probably a lot smarter. Especially since I probably wouldn't write as much as I should on my own. So the question is which one do I query for?

Question Mark?

There is your regular run-of-the-mill fantasy, set in an alternate world (they live on little isles and there's an evil bad guy of doom!). Blackburn's Prisoner.

Now, before you gaze at me in obvious disdain

Realize I only have Paint on my computer

There is your a-little-bit-quirky, urban fantasy with Dwarves (oh, and Pixies too. Uh. Duh.) Pixie Princess.

This isn't exactly how I picture it, but for now...

There is your suspenseful, evil-leg-biting-creatures, thriller (with a cute guy and a lonely old building on a killing spree.) Haunbrinth.

Are you creeped out yet?

Boogy-boogy-boogy

Or I could wait and finish the cinnamon one (which is not about food, but about evil creatures skulking in your woods).

So, I know ultimately it will have to be my decision, but I'm curious. Based on my (very poor) descriptions which book sounds most interesting to you? Which one do you think you would most likely pick up and read? If you have no opinion, that's perfectly acceptable. I promise I won't send any mythologically real creatures after you, nor will I hit you with a fish, or steal your bread.

Me wanting to steal your bread, but resisting.

Maybe I Shouldn't Write When in School...

The other day when I was waiting between classes I wrote this little bit. (I was worrying about mid-terms at the time, and stressing about Greek and wondering what a subjunctive infinity was in Akkadian, which actually doesn't exist as far as I know, but I thought it did, and it was only adding to me worrisome state.)

It is not the best in the world, for which I apologize, but I felt like sharing it.

The pressure sat on her like a camel, but instead of chewing cud it was chewing her stomach. "Nom, nom, nom," went the pressure. Jacqueline her down against her desk. "Whack, whack, whack," went her head.
"Stop," hissed her teacher, "you'll break something."
"Already broke," mumbled Jacqueline. "Broke by the camel pressure, broke by the mid-term shoving words down my throat. Words taste bad, Miss Teacher, like rotten tuna-fish sitting under your tongue."
"You're not alright," Miss Teacher said. "There's something wrong, there in your head." Miss Teacher went and grabbed Jacqueline's chair, wheeling her out of the room, through the door.
"Mid-Term sundaes dripped in chocolate, still taste bad as gravel." Jacqueline dragged her feet as the wheel-chair rolled, rolled, down the hall. She drew a giant 'x' atop her paper, circled random words in pen.
"I'm done," said Jcqueline, wavcing a limp hand in the tepid air, paper dripping sideways, flopping like a dead fish. Miss Teacher came and took her work away, while Jacqueline fingered circles on her plastic desk.
"Words like gravel," Jacqueline said, flicking dark grey rocks from her outstretched tongue. "Words like sand," she rolled her head and flapped her hands. "Words that travel, 'cross the land." A hiss, a pop, a shred of paper falling from her shirt pocket as her body rocked sideways, her dead hands trailing to the cool tile floor.