A Thousand Clever Lines...

...unread on clever napkins.

As The Beatles would say "Ob-la-di, ob-la-da, life goes on" 
And it does. My life got crazy, and wild, and way, way ahead of me. And along the way, things got left behind.
I find that if I tell people I'm in the process of writing a novel, they let me off the hook.
I'm hoping you will offer me the same courtesy :)

My novel, newly dubbed "Evening, Star" stars (hee hee) Etoile Gordon.
Etoile is my baby. Never have I loved a character as much as I love her. And trust me when I say, I've had a lot of characters. There was just something about her that was stuck in my brain almost 24/7. I created her for a role playing thread on the NaNoWriMo website. When NaNo finally came around, it was like Etoile was tapping repeatedly on my brain, forcing me to abandon my previous plot (which I absolutely loved, by the way) and write a book about her instead.
I was weak and spineless, and I relented.
So far it's turned out all right. I'm super behind on my word count. I couldn't tell you how many times I just couldn't get the words to flow.
But man, do I love this story.

Brain Blast

Got my novel idea. And (very very very) vaguely planned.

Tagline: 10 people, 10 stories, one school.
That's it. I don't even have a title yet.

It's a Brand New Day

Don't you see me changing all my ways.

I don't think I've ever done this much thinking at one time in my life. I'm working on ideas for NaNoWriMo 2011, and so far, no good. I've written down ten names, sixteen titles (and counting) and numerous lines and dialogue, but I can't figure out a conrete idea.
And of course, school starts in less than two weeks, and going into my senior year is kind stressful.
So I'm letting this make me feel better.

Drama and stories

The beauty of high school is that nothing ever lasts very long, including my relationship with great guy.
But it's whatever. I'm chill.
Plus, of course, the regular drama of high school.

Now, because I wanted to actually post something, I putting up another except from my novel.

“Chase, can’t you please just tell me where we’re going? This blindfold thing is starting to get old. And it’s cold out here.”

Andy knew she was being whiney, and probably sounded like a brat, but she was beyond caring at the moment.

The moment Andy got into Chase’s car he blindfolded her. She felt uneasily like a kidnap victim, and memories of her six months in Cuba were creeping back into her mind, making her very uncomfortable.

 “Chase, please,” she begged, desperate for him to remove the blindfold. She knew she could do it herself, but was worried he would be more upset if she did. She felt the car come to a stop, and the blindfold fell away.

“Tell me why, Andy.” She shook her head, eyes shut tight, desperate to keep the tears at bay.

“Andrea…” She opened her eyes, and Chase was looking right at her, scared for her. She gave in.

“I was been eleven years old, and my dad and I had been in Cuba for maybe five months. I was finally starting to adjust to life there, when I was…kidnapped by some guerrillas. My dad was guarding the prince of England while he visited Cuba, and they had taken me in the hopes of getting some sort of ransom for my return.

“I had been leaving my tutor’s house and was walking back to the place my dad and I were staying at when they came up behind me, put a bag over my head and tossed me in the car. They took me to a dirty apartment, and locked me in the linen closet.

“They kept me there for nearly a month, only letting me out so they could check if I was still alive. It had been horrifying, and we went back to England the day after my dad finally found me. I traumatized me. And the forced darkness, the movement of the car…it brought it all back.”

It was almost the truth. Her dad had been undercover as an advisor to the prince to get information on one of the guards who had been deemed “suspicious”, Andy was posing as his daughter Sophie. She had been worth much more then plain old Andy.

Just telling Chase that, that one little part about her past no one (but her dad) knew about, made her feel even more vulnerable.

Maybe taking this assignment wasn’t such a good idea, she thought, thought she immediately took it back. Everything, absolutely everything that she had and was going through, was worth it to meet Chase.

“I’m sorry,” she murmured repeatedly, pushing herself against and curling into a ball. Chase unbuckled his seatbelt and scooted into her seat, pulling her into a hug.

“Why would you be sorry? I’m the one who put you in this situation, I made you relive it. I’m the one who should be sorry.”

“I get so scared all the time,” she whispered, the tears falling freely. He hugged her closer.

“It was horrible in there; it was dark all the time. I couldn’t see, and then they’d open the door and the light would hurt my eyes but I wouldn’t care, cause they might have been letting me go. But then they’d throw the leftovers of whatever food they had been eating in and shut the door. And it would be dark all over again.

“There’s always a light on in my house. Even in the broad daylight, there’s always at least one. I keep a lamp on in my room at night, a regular night light isn’t enough to keep the nightmares away. And I just feel so pathetic, like I should move past it already, but I can’t! I try and I try, but their faces are always somewhere in my mind!”

She clung to Chase now, sobbing heavily. He just held her all the more tighter, stroking her hair and whispering endearments in her ear. It was a couple minutes before she calmed down. She continued to sniffle for a few moments, and when she finally looked up at Chase her eyes were bright red, her makeup running down her face.

“I must look like a mess,” she muttered, rubbing at her face. Chase took her hands.

“You look beautiful.” Andy looked into his eyes and knew that he meant it, with all of his heart.

Stuck Like Glue

I hate being stuck on a story. It’s probably my least favorite part about writing, because I get so frustrated in myself, and the story. (I can’t put all the blame on myself, now can I?) I can be sitting right in front of the computer, all prepared to start typing…and nothing. I know where it needs to go and I know how I want it to get there, but it’s like I’m just stuck on this one spot, and there’s no way to get unstuck.

It’s worse than writer’s block. At least then I have an excuse for not writing, I don’t know where to go with the plot. When I’m stuck, I just can’t seem to work up the strength to focus on my writing and, well, write. I’m just, stuck!

Until inspiration hits, I get back into the rhythm, and the story flows out of my brain and into the computer, via my fingers.

Thank you fingers, thank you.

Now I just need to find some magical cure for Sticky Fingers. (It sounds more like I’m stealing then having trouble writing.)


On another note, I have accomplished my good deed for the day. My brother and I just spent the last couple of hours helping our neighbor shovel out her driveway.
Karma owes me big time.

Feel free to turn back now :)

This is where I write something deep and emotional about why I chose to start a blog. It might be because I feel I have an amazing life and want to share it with the world. Maybe it’s because I have the life experience to enrich the world with perfect advice and life altering stories.

That’d be a lie. I’m doing this to help me with my writing, to try something new…really just because I want to do it.

I’m in high school, in an honors English class, and writing is my numero uno passion in life. For the past two years I have participated in an online program called NaNoWriMo, short for National Novel Writing Month, and this past year I won.

That’s right, I wrote a novel. *insert applause here*

It’s sloppy and short and full of plot holes, but it’s my baby and I love it. I may occasionally post excerpts, if only to boost my confidence about it.

In addition to editing my novel, I’ve started another story called Polaroid. I’m having a lot of fun writing it, but it’s not easy, being a bit of a romantic fantasy, something I’ve attempted in the past but never really succeeded with.

When I’m not writing, I’m cheering for my high school, coaching a city cheerleading team (it’s the off season now) and, like every other high schooler, studying.

That’s my life. Welcome to my story.