Vapors of Emotion
Genre: YA Science Fiction
Status: In-progress, 76,000 words as of June 13
Synopsis:
I should have died.
But I didn't.
That's the normal story routine, at least. After all, what's more thrilling than surviving your death bed? Here's the thing. I didn't. This isn't me talking to you right now. It's someone else. It might sound like me, but I wouldn't know. Like I said, I'm dead.
I know I died because they told me. Not in so many words, but they gave the basic idea. I died in a tragic car accident, the first one in twelve years. They revived me. They actually think I'm alive. They think that they saved me - the old me. I can't claim to know, and neither can they. How could they? They don't even know my name.
But I know better.
I died in that accident same as any other person would have. The me right now, I don't know her. She isn't human.
I can feel their relief, their joy, on the other side of the wall. I can't hear them talking; I can't see their faces. But I know their emotions because I can feel them. The relief pounds in waves of cool breezes. They were so tense they almost forgot how to relax. Then they remember they saved me and it'll be alright. The joy makes me feel giddy, like I'm floating in the warm ocean. I know it's them making me feel this way. Why would I feel relieved or happy? I know the truth: I died.
Do you see the key words here? Know. Died. They.
As an amnesiac, I don't know anything.
I died, and an alien body replaced me.
They saved me; now they expect me to return the favor. Except, how can I? I'm dead.
Origin:
This story actually began in my mind as a parody on global warming. I was thinking to myself, "We think that there are only two possible causes for global warming: nature or humans. But what if there were a third choice? We're so blinded to any other choices. What if it were the aliens causing global warming?" And there I had it. A story. And, yes, I am aware the the synopsis is more like an intriguing, not explanatory, summary. So I'll explain a little more here.
But I didn't.
That's the normal story routine, at least. After all, what's more thrilling than surviving your death bed? Here's the thing. I didn't. This isn't me talking to you right now. It's someone else. It might sound like me, but I wouldn't know. Like I said, I'm dead.
I know I died because they told me. Not in so many words, but they gave the basic idea. I died in a tragic car accident, the first one in twelve years. They revived me. They actually think I'm alive. They think that they saved me - the old me. I can't claim to know, and neither can they. How could they? They don't even know my name.
But I know better.
I died in that accident same as any other person would have. The me right now, I don't know her. She isn't human.
I can feel their relief, their joy, on the other side of the wall. I can't hear them talking; I can't see their faces. But I know their emotions because I can feel them. The relief pounds in waves of cool breezes. They were so tense they almost forgot how to relax. Then they remember they saved me and it'll be alright. The joy makes me feel giddy, like I'm floating in the warm ocean. I know it's them making me feel this way. Why would I feel relieved or happy? I know the truth: I died.
Do you see the key words here? Know. Died. They.
As an amnesiac, I don't know anything.
I died, and an alien body replaced me.
They saved me; now they expect me to return the favor. Except, how can I? I'm dead.
Origin:
This story actually began in my mind as a parody on global warming. I was thinking to myself, "We think that there are only two possible causes for global warming: nature or humans. But what if there were a third choice? We're so blinded to any other choices. What if it were the aliens causing global warming?" And there I had it. A story. And, yes, I am aware the the synopsis is more like an intriguing, not explanatory, summary. So I'll explain a little more here.
Aliens have radiated the Earth into a state of chaotic global warming. The aliens are on Earth because we took their bait of technology to rebuild our cities. We don't know how to get rid of the aliens. Though physically inferior, they have blackmailed us into a corner. They also have a fun sixth sense: they sense emotions. The only idea we have so far is by the CEO of a major future corporation, and this is to make a hybrid of a human so that they can infiltrate the aliens and discover a weak point. The hybrid person is the protagonist.
Interesting Tid-Bits:
In my mind, most of my stories are not of the science fiction genre, but you might have noticed that this story is science fiction. I don't know why I chose this story over all my other options, but I did.
I will also finish this story. That's a promise.
Messy Miley
Genre: Children's Book
Status: Editing/revision
Synopsis:
Miley does not like to clean. She does not like to clean her room. She does not like to clean her locker. She does not like to clean herself. But when she discovers her new special ability of cleaning, how is she suppose to explain to her father? No one could ever believe someone as messy as Miley could ever be clean.
Origin:
The summer of 2009 I worked for a small cleaning business. I worked hard everyday, bought my own supplies, learned a lot. Most of the time I cleaned alone, giving me great amounts of time to think as I worked. Predictable of an author, most of my thoughts surrounded books, plots, and characters. Yet cleaning would not let me have my way. I'd often trip over my vacuum cord or topple something over if I got too deep in thought. I began to think how great it'd be if the vacuum cord would just hover behind me instead of trying to get sucked up or trip me. I thought how nice it would be if all the items on the desk I was cleaning would just float up for me. I thought up a special cleaning ability, where cleaning products found me instead of me finding them. I thought up Messy Miley.
Interesting Tid-Bits:
I didn't actually write Messy Miley until the winter of 2009. That semester I had a creative writing class, and our last project was writing and illustrating a children's book. Unlike most of the students, I knew exactly what I wanted to write, and thus began Messy Miley. Then I got sick, and worked on it all of Christmas break. I had never drawn successive pictures where characters are supposed to look the same, and so my first few page illustrations were measly in the least, but by the end they looked great. Presently, I am redrawing the early illustrations and editing the text. See? My random interest in drawing did come out to help me after all.
---------------------------------Old Projects-------------------------------------
Shadow's Light
Genre: Young Adult High Fantasy
Status: Unfinished, shelved until my muse tells me to un-shelve it, 38,000 words
Synopsis:
Karakuri, dark magic embodies by evil spirits, are only attracted to one thing - more magic. To amass their power, they devour the souls of humans, the most potent among them being those of the fire warriors. But the fire warriors disappeared hundreds of years ago, and so did the karakuri.
Now, the karakuri are reappearing, but with no fire warriors among them. Denayr, the last fire warrior in the land, cannot use her magic, and the karakuri are growing stronger. When she finds a boy in the ashes of his burned village, she knows she has found the next fire warrior, but how can she train him if by releasing his power the karakuri come after them? The answer lies within releasing her own curse, the one that destroyed both karakuri and fire warriors so long ago...
Origin:
I don't remember if there was a specific catalyst for this story, a specific event or idea. All I know is that in middle school I began musing about what it would be like if a person shared his/her body with a demon. Not only did a demon live in him/her, but he/she also was the sworn enemy of demons. I thought it would make for interesting internal conversation as well as a good visualization of what the normal internal conflict between right and wrong. From there, a whole world formed with it's own history and people.
Interesting Tid-Bits:
I ignored this idea long enough that I actually forgot about it. I had deeply ingrained guilt over the fact that I was talking about demons as if they were a light thing, as if someone could actually fight against them with simply their will. The summer after my freshman year, I sporadically remembered the story plus even more plot and decided to write it. After abashedly showing it to my mom, we discussed me changing the word demons to fit my own creations because these weren't demons as we have them on Earth. These were "demons" in an alter Earth ( I was just getting the handle of high fantasy). I also changed my use of "wizard" for "fire warriors".
I stopped writing this because I felt that I had started prematurely and wasn't skilled enough to successfully write high fantasy. But it is not shelved permanently. Just until I feel better prepared. In this way, this book taught me to actually know what's going to happen before writing.
Story Anonymous
Genre: Young Adult Science Fiction
Genre: Young Adult Science Fiction
Status: Unfinished, shelved permanently, 65,000 words
Synopsis:
On the desert planet of Calagras, humans have recently liberated themselves. Using the new telra technology, we have developed our own government, milled our own farms, and fought off the oppressors. But Marcuel is not celebrating. Her parents are dead, and her only joy, the telra her father left behind, she is forbidden to use. Then, one day, her desert town is invaded and imprisoned once again, this time by her own race. The invaders are looking for her father's telra, but even more than that, they are looking for the only one who can operate it - her. What is so special about her father's telra? And once they have it, what do they plan to do with it?
Origin:As embarrassing as this is, this idea came from the Japanese animation Mobile Suit Gundam. Not the plot, but the telras. Basically, they look exactly like gundams, only less fancy. I was also obsessed with strong female protagonists, so of course I made my main character not only female but the object of which the whole story had a reason to exist. I am, in too many ways, a megalomaniac.
Interesting Tid-Bits:
Story Anonymous is the real title. I couldn't think of a single darn thing, so I just slapped two words on the file in my computer and said done-and-done. The title, otherwise, has nothing at all to do with the plot, characters, or any other part of the book.
I stopped writing this story in 2008 due to my depression over how poor my writing was. Naturally, I got over the depression and continued writing, but I started Shadow's Light instead.
This story taught me how to write. The secret? Never stop improving, editing, and overall learning. Never think you're good enough. Never be content.
Weatherfield
Genre: Young Adult Fantasy
Status: Unfinished, shelved permanently, ??? words
Synopsis:
Goofy, silly, and mushy all at the same time, I cannot try to pretend that Weatherfield had a true plot. It had some ghostly outline of a girl who travels to a castle with her benefactor the Countess and develops some skills at controlling weather and does some amazing stuff and falls in love with a prince yada, yada, yada. I wrote most of it on paper and then lost the stinkin' binder (I actually still grieve over the loss. I like looking back and keeping chronicles of improvement. Plus, it was just plain cute).
Origin:
A dream. How many times have you heard that one? Well, I dreamt about a woman protecting a small plant in a thunderstorm. She could manipulate weather to an extent, but she almost died in the process. The plant was the incarnation of good harvests for a nearby town and survived thanks to her. I imagined that woman's past, how she became so powerful and influential, and got the sappy, flappy story above.
Interesting Tid-Bits:
I would have probably stopped writing if not for my mother whom I read the story to. I would write all week and then sit in the car on the way to Wednesday night church and read to her. She always encouraged me and told me how she loved it. I craved her approval at first, but soon began to crave simply writing. I wrote this story in 7th grade.
Anything older than these I did not actually write down. My truest first stories were all executed in my mind during classes. Most stories were fanfiction, and I had no desire to take the time to write them down. I don't know exactly what prompted me to write my first words. I tell most people boredom, but the truth is that I don't know. Possibly intuition, possibly confusion, possibly destiny. Whichever you choose, they all have the same outcome. After that, it doesn't matter anymore.
