Yes, I stayed up until 12:30am. Again, not a big deal for most people, but this is me, the one who usually falls asleep around eleven. And by the way, it might look like I posed this at like 9:30pm or something, but that's just 'cause the clock is screwed up.
So goodnight, and happy writing!
Sunday, February 28, 2010
Saturday, February 27, 2010
Don't you love those days...
Where you're totally motivated? Yup, it's a snowy, blustery day, and I'm sitting here in my bedroom (okay, technically it's a closet) typing my head of madly. It's like, my muse has decided to come back from wherever the heck s/he went! Speaking of which, my muse needs to hurry up and tell me his/her name. Same with Inner Editor.
Oh, and about my bedroom/closet: My dad got a new apartment, with one bedroom. He sleeps in there, since, obviously, I only sleep over every other weekend. The original plan was that my brother and I would both sleep in the main living room, but then I stumbled on to this amazing closet! There's only enough room to lay a mattress down, and there's these two massive shelves which hold all my books and crap. I decorated it with my (admittedly extensive) postcard collection, a calender, and pictures of Lost that I cut out from the newspaper. I feel like I'm Harry Potter!
PS, I've made myself I promise: I'm going to try to sta up until at least 12:30am this morning writing. To others, this is nothing, but I need my sleep. I've never stayed up past twelve--well, I have, but that was at sleepovers.
Wish me luck!
Oh, and about my bedroom/closet: My dad got a new apartment, with one bedroom. He sleeps in there, since, obviously, I only sleep over every other weekend. The original plan was that my brother and I would both sleep in the main living room, but then I stumbled on to this amazing closet! There's only enough room to lay a mattress down, and there's these two massive shelves which hold all my books and crap. I decorated it with my (admittedly extensive) postcard collection, a calender, and pictures of Lost that I cut out from the newspaper. I feel like I'm Harry Potter!
PS, I've made myself I promise: I'm going to try to sta up until at least 12:30am this morning writing. To others, this is nothing, but I need my sleep. I've never stayed up past twelve--well, I have, but that was at sleepovers.
Wish me luck!
Saturday, February 20, 2010
Boredom...
Nothing to say, really, just checking in. It's 9:07 here and I'm drinking an extremely large coffee... How's that for having your priorities screwed up? But I want to do some writing tonight, and some trivial thing like sleep isn't going to stop me.
Monday, February 15, 2010
*Sigh*
Yes, I have been avoiding the blog, because... because...
I gave up.
Yes, I couldn't get into my story for FebNoWriMo. I didn't have enough research, or a good enough idea, or... ah, hell, maybe the entire idea sucked. So, I ditched it, and yesterday started on a new novel, with all new characters, one of which is talking to me at the moment (I'm not crazy, I swear! Sin just never shuts up!).
So, R.I.P. Remy, Charlotte, James, and Alexander. I had a good run with you guys, and, *sniff* I'll miss you!
Also, on a brighter note, happy Family Day if you're in Canada, happy Presidents Day if you're in America, and happy Monday if you're anywhere else!
I gave up.
Yes, I couldn't get into my story for FebNoWriMo. I didn't have enough research, or a good enough idea, or... ah, hell, maybe the entire idea sucked. So, I ditched it, and yesterday started on a new novel, with all new characters, one of which is talking to me at the moment (I'm not crazy, I swear! Sin just never shuts up!).
So, R.I.P. Remy, Charlotte, James, and Alexander. I had a good run with you guys, and, *sniff* I'll miss you!
Also, on a brighter note, happy Family Day if you're in Canada, happy Presidents Day if you're in America, and happy Monday if you're anywhere else!
Tuesday, February 9, 2010
Happy anniversary
Yup, this is the two month anniversary of my blog! I told you I'd make it past the one-week mark! Nothing else to say here, except LOST IS ON TONIGHT!! Haha, if I try and say that anywhere else, whoever I'm talking to walks away. Always. :)
Sunday, February 7, 2010
FebNoWriMo
Yup. I signed up yesterday. Am I crazy to try and write another novel in 22 days while trying to edit my JaNoWriMo? Yes. Yes I am. Does that bother me? No. No it doesn't. Though I think it must be bothering my friends, I keep going around muttering things like, "Kansas can't be that perfect! He needs some sort of tragic backstory!" under my breath.
Ah, well.
Anyways, I'm 5024 words in, and I'm really liking my plot. This is either going to be the last book in the trilogy, or the third book in a four book series.
Oh, God. I might hate my characters sometimes, but how will I ever go on without them??
Ah, well.
Anyways, I'm 5024 words in, and I'm really liking my plot. This is either going to be the last book in the trilogy, or the third book in a four book series.
Oh, God. I might hate my characters sometimes, but how will I ever go on without them??
Thursday, February 4, 2010
Oh, crap, part deux
Remember a few weeks ago, when I posted about my math teacher reading my NaNo (she's giving it back tomorrow with feedback, by the way!)?
Well, I have something way, way worse.
In a fit of insanity, I agreed to enter a short story contest, showed to me by my french teacher. The problem? I had to give it to him to enter and send in.
Which, as we all know, means that he is going to read it.
It's worse then my NaNo, to, content-wise. It's basically about a girl sitting on her bed, thinking about committing suicide. Heck, since the whole world is going to be reading it (or, at least, the teachers and a panel of judges in BC), I might as well post it here:
When we’re little, we think that doctors can fix everything. They just give you that magical drink, or sometimes even a shot, and then you’re all better.
But they can’t fix me, Essence realized. She was in her room, perched on her bed. The curtains were drawn.
Beside her lay the little bottle of pills.
The doctors used pills to make people feel better. Well, maybe these will make me feel better, Essence mused.
They looked so innocent, the little bottle laying on its side.
Essence ran her hand through her hair. She honestly couldn’t deal with her life anymore. Her parents were stressed, to frazzled to talk to her. She had no friends at school—she didn’t expect any of her classmates to know how to deal with grief. She used to be able to talk about that kind of thing with Indie. But she couldn’t now.
The bottle was such a happy orange color.
Indie had liked that color, Essence remembered. Indie had liked bright colors—the reds and yellows and oranges. Once she had tried to convince their parents to repaint her bedroom orange. It hadn’t worked. Essence now stared at her sister’s bed, the pale whiteness of the wall behind it blinding her.
The pills spilt out of the bottle on to deep blue comforter.
The comforter in question reminded Essence of the waves, that night in Cancun. The beach party. And Indie’s last vacation. Essence remembered the terrified look on her sister’s face when the undertow had caught her. It had been so unexpected, and Essence hadn’t been able to do anything.
Essence looked at her hands. She recalled the woman who had spoken to her class in grade six, all those years ago—It’s okay to feel sad, as long as you tell someone about it. But Essence couldn’t talk to anyone else. She was trapped inside her head.
She reached for the bottle. It rolled into her palm like an old friend, waiting for her to rescue it from its abandoned life on the bed.
And now it was going to do the same for her.
Yeah... just a note: there was a word limit of 360 words.
Well, I have something way, way worse.
In a fit of insanity, I agreed to enter a short story contest, showed to me by my french teacher. The problem? I had to give it to him to enter and send in.
Which, as we all know, means that he is going to read it.
It's worse then my NaNo, to, content-wise. It's basically about a girl sitting on her bed, thinking about committing suicide. Heck, since the whole world is going to be reading it (or, at least, the teachers and a panel of judges in BC), I might as well post it here:
When we’re little, we think that doctors can fix everything. They just give you that magical drink, or sometimes even a shot, and then you’re all better.
But they can’t fix me, Essence realized. She was in her room, perched on her bed. The curtains were drawn.
Beside her lay the little bottle of pills.
The doctors used pills to make people feel better. Well, maybe these will make me feel better, Essence mused.
They looked so innocent, the little bottle laying on its side.
Essence ran her hand through her hair. She honestly couldn’t deal with her life anymore. Her parents were stressed, to frazzled to talk to her. She had no friends at school—she didn’t expect any of her classmates to know how to deal with grief. She used to be able to talk about that kind of thing with Indie. But she couldn’t now.
The bottle was such a happy orange color.
Indie had liked that color, Essence remembered. Indie had liked bright colors—the reds and yellows and oranges. Once she had tried to convince their parents to repaint her bedroom orange. It hadn’t worked. Essence now stared at her sister’s bed, the pale whiteness of the wall behind it blinding her.
The pills spilt out of the bottle on to deep blue comforter.
The comforter in question reminded Essence of the waves, that night in Cancun. The beach party. And Indie’s last vacation. Essence remembered the terrified look on her sister’s face when the undertow had caught her. It had been so unexpected, and Essence hadn’t been able to do anything.
Essence looked at her hands. She recalled the woman who had spoken to her class in grade six, all those years ago—It’s okay to feel sad, as long as you tell someone about it. But Essence couldn’t talk to anyone else. She was trapped inside her head.
She reached for the bottle. It rolled into her palm like an old friend, waiting for her to rescue it from its abandoned life on the bed.
And now it was going to do the same for her.
Yeah... just a note: there was a word limit of 360 words.
Monday, February 1, 2010
Post Script
Yeah, I know I just posted approximately three minutes ago, but then I remembered: I'm not going to be posting for the next few days, due to my demanding TV schedule.
I can't help it. I'm addicted.
Tonight is House, tomorrow is the LOST SEASON SIX PREMIER (!!!!), and Wednesday is Dragons Den.
Quelle exciting!
I can't help it. I'm addicted.
Tonight is House, tomorrow is the LOST SEASON SIX PREMIER (!!!!), and Wednesday is Dragons Den.
Quelle exciting!
We all want what we can't have
Isn't that the truth.
While I was writing, I had to take my inner editor, duct tape his mouth, shove him in the basement, and threaten to shave off his eyebrows to get him to stay quiet and not critique my novel.
But.
Inner Editor seems to like that basement. He's not leaving anytime soon. Because now that I need him, he's disappeared. I will sit at my computer, stare at my document for five minutes, and then I'll go on Facebook or do homework or some other waste of time. I can't edit!
Plus, my Microsoft Office trial has run out, so I have no way to write. It's been two days, and it's killing me. Google Docs doesn't cut it for me, and OpenOffice is not cooperating, as in: I've been trying to download it for three freaking days, and nothing.
Grr.
While I was writing, I had to take my inner editor, duct tape his mouth, shove him in the basement, and threaten to shave off his eyebrows to get him to stay quiet and not critique my novel.
But.
Inner Editor seems to like that basement. He's not leaving anytime soon. Because now that I need him, he's disappeared. I will sit at my computer, stare at my document for five minutes, and then I'll go on Facebook or do homework or some other waste of time. I can't edit!
Plus, my Microsoft Office trial has run out, so I have no way to write. It's been two days, and it's killing me. Google Docs doesn't cut it for me, and OpenOffice is not cooperating, as in: I've been trying to download it for three freaking days, and nothing.
Grr.
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