Thursday, August 11, 2011

Gone For a Month...And An Award?

I am a bit ashamed. And embarrassed. I slink back to my blog with low aspirations of reception because I have neglected it for a month. And yet, in my absence, it seems I have received a blogger award?! From Kate Coursey, which is an honor is itself, as she is a kick-butt author and teen with multiple books finished, one undergoing editing by Scholastic Press, and another being represented by Edward Necarsulmer IV at McIntosh and Otis. Her accomplishments are enough to encourage any teen author, so check her out!

Sunday, June 12, 2011

My Birthday and 19 Words of Wisdom

There have been lots of news I've been hiding from everyone. Or rather, the news crept up on me without my remembrance, so I'm not really responsible for it, right?
"Guess what? It's my birthday!"

A) I'm in Black Hills, South Dakota taking summer science classes

B) Yesterday was my birthday!

Wednesday, May 25, 2011

Creating the Killer Title

It came to my observation the other day that successful novel titles are all very similar. Classics, fantasy, romance, children's books - they all have one thing in common. Nouns.

Wednesday, May 18, 2011

How to Keep Your Blog From Destroying Your Life

 Blogs aren't supposed to destroy your life, but it can happen. Here is the countdown to life explosion and how to avoid it.


Friday, May 13, 2011

Friday, May 6, 2011

Writers' Journals

My first (left) and second (right) journal
So, this week has been my finals week ending my freshman year of college. A summary of the week so far includes: studying, not eating, choir practices, 2 hour long exams, getting sick, losing my voice, and, I saved the best for last, moving out of the dorm room. It was while cleaning my room and rearranging the furniture yesterday that I stumbled a journal that I finished first semester. I immediately was tempted to sit down and start reading through all the old entries, but I forced myself to move on. Today, I have three hours until my family arrives, and having read through the journal, I felt inspired to turn to you guys.

Thursday, April 28, 2011

Wednesday, April 20, 2011

April

So, it's past the middle of April, and I haven't posted anything since March. I started writing an article on grading creativity, but my computer froze and I lost my wi-fi connection and the internet ate it up. So I'm not too keen on restarting that any time soon. What do I talk about? I thought to myself. What's worth forming into words, organizing into thought, sharing with the bottomless pit of internet? What came to mind are the lessons I've learned this past semester in my creative writing class.

Thursday, March 24, 2011

A Nothing Character

The full version of the title: How You Know If You're Writing About a Nothing Character and How to Fix It (Without Scrapping the Whole Project). Just so you know what you're in for :)

Monday, March 7, 2011

Tips for a Writing Exercise


This weekend, I rode the train to Chicago. I had planned on slugging out words for my manuscript on my laptop, but this never happened. As things have a tendency to do, something prevented me from writing. I was distracted.

Thursday, March 3, 2011

Oblivion

Somewhere in the quiet, when you forget the sound of your mother's voice, when the face of your spouse seems foreign, the mind finds oblivion. Oblivion, during an average day, is frightening to humans. It sucks in all you have until you are not yourself but have become It. The harder you listen, the less you hear. The further you look, the less you see. Rarely does oblivion visit when it is wanted. It saves its presence for the unwilling so that they might see part of it by not wanting to see it at all.

Sunday, February 27, 2011

"Eurydice" by Sara Ruhl


Over the weekend I saw "Eurydice" by Sara Ruhl performed by the theater at my college. I absolutely fell in love with it. "Eurydice" is a modern retelling of the Greek myth of Orpheus and Eurydice through the eyes of Eurydice (as the title suggests). Ruhl uses Eurydice's narrative to explore the relationship between a daughter and her father against a man and wife. Originally, Ruhl considered herself a poet, but during her time at Brown University, she found herself drawn to the medium of drama. Since then she has written ten plays, and, in 2010, her drama "In the Next Room" was a finalist for the Pulitzer Prize for drama.

Thursday, February 24, 2011

Freud Might Be Right


What is the difference between kindness and preference? Between playfulness and flirting? When put in a situation, how is a man or woman supposed to interpret whether or not a possible romantic relationship is just that person being kind or that person trying to grab ones attention? A couple days ago, I realized that I couldn't tell the difference. My deficit in perception is so great that I have found that I do not even assume kindness when receiving it from a male of my age range but almost always conclude right away that he likes me. This troubles me, for my logical self knows that not all men will like me in a romantic way, but somehow in my subconscious, the two have fused themselves together - kindness and preference.

To defend myself against a conclusion that some of you might make after this statement - that I fall at the feet of any guy that has ever been kind to me - let me sustain: as a young adult, I have yet to date and have even yet to kiss someone outside of family members and the dog. It's not that I'm against dates but more like the situation has yet to present itself. That clarified, I'll continue my assessment.

It does not seem that my mix up is an effect of lack of male companionship. I grew up with two older brothers and a father who had a strong role in the leadership of the family. I know how to rough house. I'm comfortable standing close to guys and interact with them. I went to co-ed school systems. It is not the fact that they are male which confuses me, but something else, something which I experienced as a child. (It's times like these when I start thinking Freud might have had something right. And then I realize, it's just common sense.) From first to third grade, I went to a small, private school. My class consisted of twelve students sitting in one classroom all day with one teacher. I knew all the students in that class very well by third grade, and they knew me very well. There were those among the group who were better friends, just like any larger group. There were also those who didn't get along so well. Of the boys in the class, my mind only remembers three strongly.
Harry - the fastest kid in the class
Zach - Harry's best friend
and Adam - the lover boy
Though I remember the other boys, the rest seem faded, like an old picture. I can recall their names and features just as well, but they didn't really impact me. Not like these three.


Track and Field day was a very stressful day for me. As a competitive child, I didn't like to lose, but I never won at track and field. One year, while running the mile, I began crying. I can't remember why, whether it was because my side hurt or I thought I was losing. For whatever reason, tears burst from my face, but the teacher said I had to keep going. I did. Though I didn't like it, and I knew I wasn't winning, I kept going. It felt like the hardest thing in my life. I finished 7th or so. Harry finished 1st with my best friend, Lauren, behind him with a a close 2nd. I was happy for her. I was just glad that I had finished. But something happened. When they dealt out our ribbons at the end of the day and Lauren had almost all blue and red ones and I had few ribbons at all, I started crying again. After all my hard work, it still didn't amount to much. After all the pain, what did I merit?

To hide my crying, I did the smartest thing I could think of: I hid under my desk. Like a peer sitting underneath her desk doesn't stand out at all. Zach, seeing me, decided to call me cry baby. And he continued calling me that until the end of the year.

My relationship with boys got further entrenched by Adam, the class romantic. He was the only boy in the class kind to me, but he was kind to all the girls. Every Valentine's day he would buy all of us roses. When I had my birthday party and he missed it, he still bought me a gift.

Was it during this time that my black and white view of boy relations developed? Middle school in a public high school further solidified this idea. I was either cussed at by the boy at my locker, pestered on my bus, or mock asked out in class. And then when I did get a guy who was kind to me, a rumor started that he liked me.



I didn't want to seem capricious and I guarded the place in my heart for romantic relationships even though I was easily confused by a boy's intentions. To admit I liked a guy felt like saying he was kind to me, admitting that he had talked to me. Which was admitting nothing at all. Guys could be kind to girls without having a romantic reason behind it. I knew this. But I didn't feel it. And it still confuses me now. All because of my childhood.

Maybe Freud was right.