Thursday, February 6, 2014

take the wheel

Willow, maybe?
alone. again. a reoccurring theme in my life. you would think i would be used to it by now, but i'm not.
it doen't get easier.
it doesn't get better.
it's a memory that doesn't dim.
you promised forever, and like a fool i believed you.
then you left. my heart was broken yet again.
no more petty hopes and dreams.
not for me.
now it's my time to step up and take the wheel.
my past was just a driving lesson.
this time i won't need to learn which petal is the gas and which is the brake.
this time i'm ready for the road.
it's not going to be easy but it's a life for learning.
it's my turn.


Tuesday, January 28, 2014

a short story - taken away

"We've got her!" Austin yelled with a laugh.
He ran out of the summer home's garden, pushing a wheelchair. In the wheelchair sat a laughing girl.
Josie ran out next, with a basket packed full of different foods from the pantry.
Andrew and Mary waited by the gate, slamming it shut after their friends escaped and before the maid and cook could catch them. They took off towards the forest, hooting with delight as the cries of, "They've done it again!" and "they've stolen her away, the rouges!" lingering behind them.
They shouted in triumph and danced around the halted seat.
The four raggedy friends, and the young lady from the house.
She laughed until tears ran down her face.
"Thus we save you from your terror, Laylanna." cried Andrew.
"You are my hero's, all of you." she dried her eyes and tossed her close cropped head.
Josie and Mary pushed her chair to the blanket spread out on the Forrest floor. The two boys gentle lifted her out and set her on the ground.
"You must stop encouraging your beux. We never see you any more." Mary pouted.
"Oh, I try to discourage them. They just won't leave." She shrugged. "That and my health has not been as well."
Her four friends grew silent.
"But never mind my troubles!" she urged, "Tell me about what troubles you have conjured up."
As they ate, they took turns of telling their adventures and what was forgotten someone else corrected. Laylanna smiled as she listened. She loved how the four were rough yet gentle, loud yet silent, argumentative yet loving. They loved and forgave each other.
At the end of their picnic, they begged the lady to sing.
"We've missed your voice." they told her. As she sang, the friends relaxed. Mary curled up and rested her head on Austin's shoulder. Andrew lay at one side of Laylanna, sprawled on the ground smiling up at the treetops; Josie sat on the other side, holding the hand of her friend and humming along with every tune.

It was dusk when they returned to the summer home. They pushed her chair around the garden, and into the back entry. They bid her goodbye and headed off to their home.
A band of ruffians they may be, but a true family they are. 

This is just an idea i've got... It's based on four of my friends that I love very dearly <3

Your writerly friend,

Thursday, January 23, 2014

Bird on Bird • Battling Writers Block

So, on Wednesday while my sister Allison, brother and I were at our elderly neighbor's house and his "girlfriend" came over to meet us.

Our neighbor, Dale, is 87 and he lost his wife about six years ago. He hired my sister and I to do house cleaning and my brother to do yard work.
Last year he met an elderly lady named Sudie, who lost her husband two years ago and they have such an adorable friendship. I guess Dale told her about us, because while we were up at his house he asked us to wait because "Sudie wants to meet you in the worst way." It was cute:) 
I called my mom and asked her if we could stay a while longer, and after reviving the okay, we waited.
Finally the knock at his front door came, and in came the sweetest grandma looking lady you have ever seen. She was from the south, so she has an accent:)
And anther thing is she is very outgoing, while Dale is reserved and used to his quiet routines.

Sudie told us three to tell her about ourselves. So we did, and she pulls out this little notebook and writes down our names and what we like. "I will see if I have any books about those." She said with a big smile. Then she went on and told us a story called Bird On Bird:

"There was a boy who had to write a paper about a his State bird,"she said,"and he put it off for days and days until the night before he had to turn the paper in. His dad asked if he could read it. "I didn't write it yet, pa," he said. "I don't know how to start it." His dad looked at him and said,"just start with one bird and when you're done, start with a bird that the first one made you think of and go on and on until you get your paper done about the state bird." She smiled and bobbed her head.
"That's how you get past a block. You just keep going on with little things until you get the big thing done."
"Rabbit trails!" My sister laughed.
"Yes, yes. Rabbit trails. Bird on bird. This is what helped me write my book."

And so, dear fellow writers, give this a try! I haven't had a chance to try her method, but I'll do it as soon as I can.

I guess I did have a chance to try it, because it did take a rabbit trail to say what I wanted to. I love it how that works.
Have a good day, blogglings!

Yours sincerely,

Tuesday, January 21, 2014

My Best Friend is a Robot

Today I'm here with a sneak peek from my latest story, My Best Friend Is a Robot.

Golly, I'm in love with this plot! But it's not long enough to be a full novel, so it's going to be a fast and furious action packed novella. Whoop de do! I'm aiming for about 20,000 words at the least.

MBFiR is set in a dystopian setting. I hope it turns out at least half as good as I'm hoping.

"Right now, we aren't living. We're just... Existing." - Dawn
In this paticular time setting, the government is in control of everything. And by everything, I mean even the oxygen needed to breath. This government maintains the perfect lifeforms. There are no germs, there is no sickness, nobody is unhealthy. Everything and everyone is perfect.

"There are the ups to this way of life, but the bad far outnumber the good." - Seth
 This is truely one wacko government here, people. Like, insane. They choose when you marry, who you marry, how many kids you can have, decide if your kids should live, what the perfect time is for you to die, just bad bad bad BAD. My characters are fixing to stop it. But that doesnt mean they will. But there is a whooping %5 chanch that they could. With my carefully placed plot twists and so much more goody goodyness, I hope I don't completely kill my story.

And on with the peek I promised!

My name is Dawn Ryder. This is the story of how I rescued my best friend. By “best friend” I mean my robot; Seth.Yeah, I bet that sounds really weird. Let me explain:The year is 2417. There are three countries left on planet Vouch which was lately known as Earth. Yep, the planets were renamed. Stupid world leaders. Anyways, three countries: Egone, Prine, and Chash.
These three countries worked together but apart: Egone supported the animal world, protecting every species from the harm of unknown dangers this world has developed in the last three hundred years. Prine grew every know plant known to mankind and that’s where the other two countries get their food supply. And Chash is where they create the perfect people. I live in Chash.In Chash there are twenty five levels. In every level there are different classifications. Everyone has been genetically altered to have specific traits: Red hair, brown hair, white hair, black hair, blond hair, blue eyes, green eyes, grey eyes, brown eyes, skin, hair, and nose. Blah, blah, blah.I lived in Level nine, where everyone has been genetically modified to have black hair, green eyes and freckles. Everyone was the same. Almost everyone, that is. I was the oddball.
I love history – especially the history before the levels were created. What little they give us, anyways. I wanted to be independent. I wanted to see the ground, like the planet’s surface. But we weren’t allowed to go down. I was sick of the same everyday routine. I wanted it to be different.
So basically, I had no friends. Nobody wanted to be friends with a weirdo. I was told that the kids who learn more than they are supposed to get taken away from the levels and were never seen again. I’ve been warned. Numerous times. Whatever.Eventually, my perfect parents realized that I was lonely and so for my thirteenth birthday I was given Seth. He was already programed for my needs. Or that’s what they told me.

Your pal,

Monday, January 20, 2014

So I'm thinking Steampunk.

Lately I've been wanting to do something with a steampunked plot line. But modest steampunk, not the type where the girls are uncovered. And not quite as dark - I want it to be happy yet gear-ish. Not black but bright cheery colors.
I've found some cute outfits but they're mostly dark and too short skitred or low cut.

So here is a plot I've dreamed up that I think this theme would fit with:

An old inventor living in the 1800's with astounding ideas. Not a rich man, but not a begger either. He has taken in twenty six orphaned children and raised them as his own, doing whatever he could for them.
When he finally created a flawless flying device, he disappears along with his plan.
Amelia, his newest orphan child, is devastated and begs the others to help her find him. They agree and set about using his blueprints to create the devices to save him.

And so they go along until Amelia meets this high-end steam worker named Jethrow.
Jethrow goes and helps find the old man and so on and so forth. I'm not giving the big long plot I've got drawn up because 1) it would be pages long and 2) I don't want to give away my secrets *bwahahahaha*.

So you could say that I've got a mind full of adventure that I'm ready to spill. :)

Keep it cool, writerly nerds!


Saturday, January 18, 2014

Am I the only one that feels like "the love triangle" is way overrated? And other things?

I don't know... I just feel like the love triangle just keeps being used over and over. It's getting old. 
I wish there could be books where three knight have to fight for the ladies hand or there is the one character the girl/boy loves through the entire book.

Oh, and there is the other thing. Bad boys.
Can't there be the nice guy? Or the sweet guy? Or what about the poor overlooked goofy one that I always love by the end of the book?
They are the ones that need to over rule the bad boys... They just aren't appealing after the nine hundred books about them finally gaining the girls heart.
I don't know about you guys, but my dad would be hurt if I chose a bad boy. So why would I feel drawn toward them in books??? 

What about the black haired, green eyed main characters? I admit that I fall for this one, as most of my characters are black haired and green eyed.

And the favorite character dying. WHY DOES THIS HAPPEN?! I cry and break my heart over these people that ultimately die a horrendous death. And I find myself doing the same exact thing with my characters. I don't know why because my people are everything I love and I'm all "BwahahahahaHA DIE!"

So, there are a few of my pet peeves.
Your writerly friend,

Sunday, January 5, 2014

The Unhappy Bush - A Short Story

There once was an unhappy bush, a little brown and thorny bush, resting in a sleepy garden, subdued by the falling snow. Two people came walking around and looked at the bush.
“That’s an ugly little bush.” Said the first person,
“It’s very ugly.” Agreed the second person and they both went on their way. The little brown bush heard this and started to weep. The wind heard the bush crying and blew over to it.
“Why do you cry, little bush?” the wind asked, rustling its little brown leaves gently.
“The people said I was ugly and it hurt my feelings because I know it’s true. I’m little and brown and ugly.” The little bush sobbed.
“You are not ugly, just young and cold. Just be patient and you will grow taller and you’re cold leaves with turn green. When this happens, I will come back and dance.” The wind said in a comforting voice and then blew away.
The little bush was thankful to the wind for being so nice and he believed what the wind said, so the bush waited.
The snow stopped falling and melted away; Spring was here! And just like the wind had said, the little brown bush grew taller and greener. And the wind came back and danced in the tall green bushes leaves.
The bush was happy and smiled all day and even at night while it slept.
One day, a child was playing by the garden when he noticed the beautiful green, tall bush.
“May I take a branch of your green leaves, beautiful bush?” Asked the child.
The bush was so happy at being called beautiful, that it told the child to take its most beautiful, green branch; the branch that held its biggest, prettiest leaves. But when the child grasped the branch, he cried out in pain. When the child pulled his hand away, a big drop of red blood slid down his hand.
“You tricked me!” The child cried, “Your branches are covered with thorns!” And the child ran away, holding his hand and tears falling down his face.
The grass outside the garden despised the bush.
“You tricked the child and poked him!” “What good are you if all you have are thorns?” “Nobody will like you know.”
And the bush began to weep again. “Now my beautiful leaves no longer matter because of my thorns.” it mourned.
Now the sun heard the bush weeping and he sent down warm, comforting rays of light.
“Do not cry, green bush. You didn’t mean to hurt the child.” He said.
“But I did hurt him and now no one loves me. I only wanted to share my leaves because he was so kind to call me beautiful.” The bush lamented.
“The child didn’t know about the thorns and in your moment of happiness you forgot to warn him. It was an accident.” He consoled the bush. “Go now and explain what happened. It wasn’t right of the grass to blame you.”
So the green bush did and the grass listened to it then apologized for accusing the bush of hurting the child.
As spring wore on, the flowers in the garden grew their petals. They flaunted their colors and celebrated. The tall green bush celebrated with them.
The green bush smiled and sang and the wind sent its beautiful leaves dancing.
But then a flower asked, “Where are your petals, bush? The spring is almost done.” And all the other flowers heard the question and they all asked the bush the same question.
“I don’t know!” The bush exclaimed. “I thought I was just a bush.”
And the sun was hidden by grey rain clouds.
The flowers left the bush and went to play. So the bush looked up at the clouds and grew sad. Then the rain started to fall and the bush grew sadder.
“Don’t be sad, green bush, sleep.” The rain whispered. “Tomorrow you will be even more beautiful.”
So the bush slept and the next day when it woke up, it was surrounded by smiling and surprised faces.
“What’s the matter?” The bush asked.
“You have flowers!” the rest of the garden squealed with delight. “You are a rose bush!”
And the wind came and danced and danced and wafted the sweet fragrance of the bush’s roses for all to smell. The beautiful rosebush outlasted the other flowers. The two people came back and said the bush was beautiful. The child came back and all was forgiven when he found the red flowers peeping out of the green leaves.

And the tall, beautiful, green rosebush – which used to be little, ugly and brown, lived happily ever after.