Unrelenting Muse

2012-02-13T22:10:00.002-05:00

Writing Tip O' The Day:
Don't fake something you can easily look up. Let's say, the timeline for an abandoned property if you're including flashbacks or looks into the past.
The result of this: Lots of research and wracking of the brain.

*explodes*

A must have for writers

2012-01-13T12:58:00.000-05:00

Just bought this a few days ago, a small late Christmas present to myself. For writers, and any other type of artist out there, inspiration strikes randomly. It could strike in the wee hours of the morning, waiting in line at a shopping center, working out, any where any time. So, a simple solution: keep an inspiration journal with you. Something small like mine could fit easily in a purse or bag, and be carried with you to your bedside at night. I've already jotted down a few pages worth of ideas! Got mine at Barnes and Noble.. they have such cool designed fancy small journals for the picking. This one is Edgar Allan Poe inspired, complete with one of his famous awesome quotes.

Anyone else have something like this? I recommend it. :D

What my writing skills have boiled down to.

2012-01-07T17:42:00.000-05:00

Writing again after a too-long hiatus. These are the things I've discovered:

Not writing in a long time tends to dull the senses and makes your story have less personality. (Especially in comparison to rereading what you've written in the past.)
Writing the in-between parts of a story where nothing really happens, the "fluff" as I call it, is incredibly boring.
On a different note, writing a character of a different nationality is fun. Especially if you make her a bitch and get to Google French swear words.
Picking a job for your character is just as difficult as getting a job yourself. Tedious stuff. I'd say, of all the things I write about and end up changing, setting a job for my main character is the worst. They're all probably screaming at me from their little universes that I'm the reason they're all currently unemployed.
(Not a new one to me) Having to constantly backspace to correct all the "colours" and "favourites" to exclude the "u's" that I've made the habit of using since highschool.
Reread #2.
Reread #4.

Hey, at least I'm finding the humour in it. (Ha! Look, a wild U appeared!) :B

Oh man.

What your character COULD look like

2011-11-27T23:23:00.001-05:00

Since I'm sharing this everywhere else, mine as well share here, too. I'm offering up a cheap price for commissions. Commissions of original characters. Got a bit of spare cash on you and are a writer? How would you like to see your character that's in your head, on the screen in front of you? I can do that. (Well, I can try.)

Check out this lil guideline I set up, with three fictitious characters on it I made to show a bit of diversity of skill. Well, the last on on the right is sort of based on my main character in Welcome to my world, he said. That's beside the point! Onwaaaarrrdd:

Clicketh for full details.

I can do three types, as advertised, but the most compelling is the coloured one. That one is fun to do. :) The shading one is also pretty nice, I like how images look in full shade and black and white. Payment is through my paypal. Don't worry if you don't have one, its super easy to make. :3

If you're interested, email me at Octipuff(at)gmail(dot)com, and my paypal is AutumnHallow(at)AOL(dot)com. Just replace them at's and dot's with real ones, got to avoid them phishies.

OR, if you want to just be a kind person, you can re-post this page and spread the (potential) wealth! <3

Settings... elude me.

2011-11-23T21:49:00.001-05:00

There is something that I've been pondering these few weeks, about the story I am writing 'The Monocle'. It is quite intimidating when you're considering writing a story set in a different place and a different era. You have to make sure you don't modernize it, that you don't mix up the old with the new and confuse your readers. You have to make sure you have the right realistic facts in place, and so on. So, as I said, it's intimidating. And quite a dedication. I can't say that I know enough about the era I want to write in (shortly before the turn of the century, Victorian Era), and I want the story to feel like you're reading into a world not just a town, so I need to know tons of facts. (Am I rambling yet?)

So, I humored the idea of making it modern. But then I fear that it would be too much like my other story '"Welcome to my world," he said.' (which needs a better working title, btw). Y'know, modern day, angels and demons and stuff. And, if I do that, the 'monocle' bit is going to have to change.

Then, it lead to another bit... combining the two stories? Or, writing in an era that isn't quite real? Like Steampunk. Has a lot of Victorian Era to it, but is still fantasy, which leaves room for liberties. I could do something like that.

Well, these are my musings. Perhaps stuff like this shouldn't be so publicized but if anyone has any complications similar they'd like to share, or an opinions, I'd love to hear them.

New Blog & What makes a story scary

2011-10-30T15:16:00.003-04:00

First let me point out that I am no genius of html. Mostly I just dabble in what's already on this blog until I see some drastic change, like my very curvy header for example. So I went with it. Honestly, I wanted something more along the lines of what Barbara Canepa has on her blog, but I'm too chicken shit to write her and ask her where she got her codes. o______o Alright! Changing the subject now.

I've discovered a sort of bandwagon going on over at a YA site, still learning about it but they have a lot to let you ponder about. I read their guest author response for this Friday's question: What makes a story scary? Mike Mullin had a fantastic answer, if you want to read the whole blog go here.

He talks about what I've been saying about movies for years. It's not the things they tell you and show you that are scary, its what they don't. Its seeing a dark room or hearing a noise, not seeing a monster clearly in the day. A certain movie comes to mind in terms of how it shouldn't be done: The Boogeyman. I saw previews for it years ago and I thought it'd be really good. The whole counting thing, the creepiness of what would happen when he reached five, shadows moving and closets.. creepy! Until you saw the monster. Totally ruined it. It was a buzzkill, how they showed you the face of the terror that's been lurking in the shadows this whole time. I believe a good example of describing what proper fear is in a definition would be the Dementors. They're faceless, they will transform into whatever you fear the most. I love the idea that fear is the unknown. That it is when you are not presented with solid evidence of something scary, its when you're left to your own imagination. Now that is scary!

Alright, kinda creepy.

Lost it.

Okay, now I know I've trailed away from books, but a show just crossed my mind that used to scare me so bad! I'd say the only Buffy episode that made me have nightmares. Yes, they show their faces but they attacked another very realistic fear. They were called The Gentlemen. Whenever they arrived, to cut out your heart, they would take away your voice. Do the whole thing with you silently screaming and strapped down. I get a slight chill still thinking about it, very scary is the thought that you could be so close to help but are so utterly helpless. That episode also had a good back story of the screaming princess. Well-rounded tales like that really satisfy.

Nobody smiles that much unless they want to kill you.

Re-Inspired

2011-10-29T01:58:00.000-04:00

Writer's Block... sometimes I think it's a fictional character. Like Santa Claus or the Easter Bunny. Something that we so naively believe in without needing much proof or detail. Then one day, we hear something that tests our belief in it. After that, its difficult to go back to what you thought you knew.

So, what does this have to do with writer's block? Here's the thing. Do you remember the first time you heard the phrase? Unlikely, which is my point. Well, I'm not saying it doesn't exist, just most of it's qualities I'd like to believe are fictional. You can get it, and it may linger, but here's the thing you didn't hear the first time around: you can fight back. If you sit there and wait for inspiration to strike, then you may be waiting forever. The thing you need to do is sit there in front of your computer and just force the words to come out. Just jump back into the grind until it (inevitably) feels easier. I remember the last time I did this, I wrote a few short paragraphs of a story about a sandwich. A SANDWICH. And I actually really liked it. Sometimes I think you'll surprise yourself with what you can write in random circumstances.

Now, I can't say exactly that it was writer's block that caused my sudden lack of updates. Sometimes life gets in the way and that is exactly what mine had done. And I had to say goodbye a few days ago to my beloved laptop of nearly ten years, Batman. Okay, well, I name a lot of things Batman. But, my lappie Batman was the most important.

When I was around 8 or 9, I had begun begging my father every holiday and birthday for a laptop. I could do nothing but dream of sitting at the base of a tree under it's shade during a bright sunny day and just write. Write, write, write until the sun set. I kept this up for years. And years. Finally, and I believe I was 13, I got a laptop for Christmas. And I had been writing on it ever since, up until a few nights ago. :/ Sucks to say goodbye to the fella, since its pretty much been with me half my writing obsession.

But a good thing is that I can combine, for the time being at least, my art with my writing on my main computer. Reading through fellow bloggers tips n' tricks, I learned that some writing programs use a tablet (Wacom, like the one I draw with) function where you can write literally right on top of your writing with a red pen! How cool is that? I've never been so excited for revisions. ;)

I have a lot to do. A lot of planning and plotting and sorting before I can start my first official draft. This means, more blog posts. This blog is a bit of my baby, I look at it as a portal out to all of you from the most fragile part of myself. I feel a sense of direction and inspiration when I write here.

All the forces in the world....

2011-08-25T15:38:00.001-04:00

"All the forces in the world

are not so powerful

as an idea whose time has come"

~Victor Hugo

Picture belongs to ~fruityfruitfly of DeviantArt.com

♥

Sharing Pishchanska's Dark and Mysterious Photos

2011-08-06T09:05:00.001-04:00

Today I want to share with you an artist who's photos I have just run across today. I've never been so captivated so consistently through a group of photos like I have with this photographer. Each one seemed to tell a story and hold a secret, made to look like old photographs of moments captured against the subject's knowledge.. they captivate me entirely. I could write a story around them. I'd much like to share some of them here so someone else could also get inspired. Below some of the photos I will place the title of the image and/or whatever description was available for it, because alongside the image speaking a thousand words, the artist's titles and comments also bring the photo up to another level. :)

DeviantArt.com user Pischanskaya
Photographer Olia Pishchanska

Dreamcatcher

Afterlife- "About the place we call limbo, where our souls come after the life. Here we can burn the book of our memories, written by us during life time."

Ashes you leave

Inside - "A picture about inner world of our fears. All of them become creatures living inside us. We can ignore, we can try to hide them, but they never disappear. So we should stop skirring and better accept them, and never give up loving them, because we are their creators and they are like unloved children, ugly and forsaken"

O_O I'm alive, I swear. Here's something new to ponder. heart

2011-07-31T15:03:00.000-04:00

So much craziness has happened lately since I moved from Michigan to North Carolina that I haven't had time to post. Got engaged, got a new job, quitting new job for better paying job, commissions,
killmenao.

But, here I am! (yay? nay?|)

Apart from art, I have some new story tidbits for you. I wrote this last September, a little vignette. I'm so glad there is a word for this, just learned it today! (don't point and laugh at me! ;_; ) I never did anything with it, but upon re-reading it, I saw a whole new potential for it. I am planning to incorporate it into a story I have called Welcome to My World, he said Err, the title is just a placeholder. :3

Anywho, lemme know what you think:

Esther was, indeed, one of those book-wormy slim girls who wore big loose sweaters and had short inky black hair. She didn't get much sun either, and she had a keen attraction to striped clothing. Her fingers were dry from the turning of many pages, and eyes almost always dead when she looked at anything other than a book. You wouldn't run into Esther, or even say hi to her passing, not unless you were on your way to the library and had an urge to check out the darkest dustiest end of the building with that light that was always flickering. Something that a lot of people didn't know about her was that she has a tattoo of Atropa belladonna between her shoulder blades. Well, people have heard, but no one has ever seen it. They joke about why she would have a tattoo of a plant on her back. She also had a much more known tattoo right underneath her chin, it was a small black star. None of these things add up to make much sense however, and the most confusing thing of all about Esther was no one has ever seen her leave that library. Some, such as the front desk clerk in the library, even swear that when he goes down each section shutting off rows of lights, that dark flickering corner Esther sits in starts glowing red...

But the desk clerk is too chicken shit to go back there. Or even fix that light.

~*_*_*_*_*~

I also have a new sketchbook. Hardbound, leather-like and with a ribbon bookmark and the words across it saying Black-Book. I can post a few pics here right now showing some of the crap I've been doing on my downtime. Yay! *dances around stupidly*

I tend to take pics of sketches on an angle... makes me feel like they look more interesting. Ha!

Zombie Pinup

2011-03-13T21:52:00.005-04:00

Drew a little today. Trying out a pose from the amazing Japanese book series called 'Hyper Angle' the female edition. Really super cool books, I want a male one now. :D
Come check out what I drew, on n' off during my shift at work today. (Shhhh, don't tell >_>)
Funny enough, I did this whole post from my phone, haha.. crazy the things we can do these days!!
(And yes.. that is a spongebob mechanical pencil) :3

Works to appease the Muse

2011-02-27T00:41:00.002-05:00

Annual inspiration post!

I like the characteristics of this, makes me inspired to make some demons act disturbing and slithery...

Herbert James Draper actually did a lot of demon inspired artworks, amongst other tales and creatures. The classical feel of his artwork is something I think is important to preserve in writing about demons, because it makes the connection back to all those slightly disturbing but captivating paintings such as Drapers that have a sinister beauty to them.. the pinnacle of what I'm trying to emulate.

I just love the flowy hugeness of the hat and dress... and raccoons! Can't say this has inspired much of anything besides the fact I love it, and Phob's other works as well. :3

I really love this statue. I imagine it's in a cemetery and I'm stoked to use it's description in my story at some point.

This last one gets me the most... so very much reminds me of Lilian Vermilion. ♥

Research! For The Monocle

2011-02-25T23:20:00.000-05:00

Man o man, finding some good stuff to look up info for my story. As I've mentioned, there will be demons in it. So, I was doing some online research for some good resource books and came across 3:

Encyclopedia of Demons and Demonology

I flipped through this in the book story and it had a good layout. I found all sources on the 'nets were pretty badly displayed, making it difficult and time consuming to look up each and every demon. There was no real order. In here, you have all sources of demons which is perfect because I don't want strictly one religion attached. It gives names, short descriptions and even tales along with the background of each demon, whether they be folklore or historical interpretations.

The Dictionary of Demons

This dictionary is a compilation of demons from all over through out time and the world. Cross-referenced, described in detail and characteristics, this is ideal for me to find certain demon qualities I wanna add. It was laid out very nicely and easy to comprehend if you're just flipping through. Aside from 'encyclopedia' and 'dictionary' the two demon books here are indeed different, focusing on different aspects of demons, allowing me to see the full picture and have multiple references.

Modern Demonolotry I found this book first, actually. The reviews of other amazon members caught my attention (since there is nothing else really in the page about the book) It was raved about being a 'wealth of rare facts about demonolatry' and so I was intrigued. Rare means I get an edge with my writing, a possible inspiration to have something in my story that isn't very known. It isn't printed anymore, but they did have a kindle version which I thought was slightly amusing.

So, I found the first two books in store, and since they were $25 bucks a pop (so much D:) I decided to just research them at home before I go out and buy the best one of the two. During my research, I discovered the Encyclopedia of Demons and Demonology is actually also a .pdf so I got that for extremely cheap *cough*, and the last one, Modern Demonolotry, was on kindle for $2.99! I feel very fortunate. All I have to do is buy the Dictionary and I'm set. And do a little Angel research and I'm back to doing straight Victorian research again and more outlining. :)

One thing I love about writing is that the research is never on something you don't want to learn about. <3

Artwork!! For The Monocle

2011-02-21T01:03:00.000-05:00

Finally! I did me some artwork about one of my stories. Since The Monocle is at the top of my list, I decided to do a sketch. Of course.. I got carried away and made it a complete picture xD It's still ... sketchy.. but also a bit refined and took me a good chunk of the day. Lemme know what you think!

I can't really reveal the entire meaning behind what I drew, but I can tell you a little bit. Obviously the girl with the white hair is the same girl, flipped. I did this on purpose, as well as change the colour schemes slightly between them. This is kind of a representation of two paths that the little girl can go down, but more of like the two sides she carries within her. The lady at her back is her mother. In the story, I describe the little girl (Lilian Vermilion, however in the story she is much older, 17) as having "the features of her mother, but the colours are all wrong." So, just similarity in the face mostly. But, also in the blood.... that's all I'm gonna say. :D

To see it in it's original location on my artpage go HERE.

That's all I got today, lately I've been just writing outlines and looking up research for my story, haven't fully gone back to writing yet!

April

Excerpt 002 and Writing Tips! [P.S. Back on top o' my GAME]

2011-02-13T20:30:00.003-05:00

[The Monocle Excerpt-E002]
There's something uncanny in the atmosphere, a feeling of foreboding. Something incandescent in the light of things.
And it is whispering to me.

--:--

Attention: if you wanna skip my gibberjabber and go to the tips, that is the second break in this note, the one beginning with the bullets. Look for the second --:-- break line. :)

I am back on top of my game! Last night I was hit with a tornado force of inspiration, swirling and centered around one subject, one I had put on hold reluctantly for a while now, feeling useless since I could not finish it. The Monocle is what I am talking about. I did nothing different from any other day, I reread some of my story and sat there looking at the cursor as it blinked repeatedly waiting for me to continue with the tale. But normally this does nothing. I sit there, try to imagine a concept and antagonist, a theme and a complex and get nothing... just white blank space in my head. I have a few paths I could take the story down to, since I like fantasy and paranormal, but each one didn't feel right. I feel that the story exists, it is just up to the author to flesh it out, to discover it and to bring it to the world to read. So when something doesn't feel right, it probably isn't. I tried witchcraft and traditional fairy tale settings, neither held, and vampires didn't either. Finally, as if struck by a jolt of electricity I was so suddenly posessed with an idea that felt so very very right. :D I wrote 2 1/2 pages of a basic outline including protagonists, antagonists, protagonists mistaken for as antagonists, and my center theme.

From here on out I am pulling together my own little version of Angels and Demons. I do not want to make it at all Biblical, it is more so my own fantastical version, although I will be drawing from many biblical and other sources to bring together my own ideas. I like the hierarchy of the Angels, and that is what I'll base the majority of my ranking system on, including humans. I had a lot written out, to be honest.... but I deleted it. I don't think it'll benefit me if I share everything about everything on here. This sure is a difficult process, trying to gain followers and please fans when you can't share the whole story (literally). I don't want to let any of my hard earned ideas loose on the 'nets for others to possibly use or hell, even be influenced by. But there will be plenty of excerpts and sketches and sharing of research. :)

Rereading The Monocle I feel like I keep changing a few things. LET ME TELL YOU WHAT: trying to continue a story that you've stopped writing on from years prior, you make a lot of changes accidentally. So, consequently, you go back a lot and change the early parts of the story to match the later parts, or vice versa. x_x it can be quite tiresome. As I have shared earlier pieces of The Monocle you can see that I did not use any quotations or dialogue and the only real narrative was from the main character Lilian Vermilion, so you were constantly only in her head and got to view the world and it's conversations from how she heard them and perceived them. I changed that in the later half of the story but haven't got around to adjusting the first half, I can do that at any time. However, I have also changed some characters appearances too xD And then I get into a small fight with myself on which is more fitting, what I wrote years before (when I MAYBE had a plan for it but forgot all about since) or the new descriptions that tie into my remastered ideas? I have not found any notes on The Monocle so anything I was building up with what I wrote doesn't make sense to me anymore. I really really love how it's all written, but it just doesn't make sense in some bits. It is like someone built a sidewalk, knowing exactly where they were going to end it, but stopped making it in the middle. Now people go walk on that sidewalk and have no idea where it was going to end. Sometimes you just have to take in some new ideas and good intentions and accept that hopefully where you'll finish that sidewalk it will lead to a better place than the one that was forgotten.

--:--

So, here are some lessons learned today with writing:

Write lots and lots of notes. If you are the type to go fuzzy on details of things like I can be and have plenty of characters for your story, keep a list of characters and descriptive information on them handy. Last thing you wanna do is write something off the wall about a character you've introduced earlier in your story and YOU think it's fitting because you can't remember entirely what you wrote before, but the reader may be completely thrown off and confused.
Keep references handy. Especially if you're writing a period piece you'll want all that extra info at your fingertips so you don't lose your drive when you stop to look up a word or picture you can't quite remember.
Try to avoid using the same descriptive words over and over. Set a pace for yourself, if you really like to describe something as sparkling but you've used that word a few paragraphs back, go to a thesaurus and find another word that means the same thing and use that instead. One funny thing about Harry Potter that I noticed was, despite how captivating the story was and how great a writer JKR is, she goes through phases in her stories where she will use the same few descriptive words over and over again for paragraphs at a time, and then repeats that for the entire novel. Not too bad, if they're good accurate descriptive words, but it can be very distracting to the reader and you do not want to do that, you want the reader to be completely immersed in your story. If you do not believe your vocabulary is extensive enough to use larger words you can always take a simple description in your story and look up a few of those basic words in a thesaurus and find a real cool sounding version that means the same thing and replace it.
Recognize the main points in your story, and measure them from each other. Reading other novels is a vital piece of understanding the writing process. Novels are generally NOT under 100 pages, they do NOT have days going by in just a few pages and you do NOT get to the climax of the story in less than a half an hour of reading. Some main plot points don't develop until a few chapters in, and then the next one may not develop until 3-4 chapters in. Knowing this, look at your own story. Do you have too much going on too soon? You may be drowning your reader with too much in too little a time You have to give a reader time to digest your story, contemplate it and develop their own idea of what may be going on. If you see this happen, simply space out the two ideas into two sections and try to fill each section with more volume. You'll find that this isn't as difficult as you may have thought, and can be a good process to extending your story more and more as you write.
Do not choose what you want the reader to think, choose what you want them to see. People are smart, generally, and you do not need to spoon-feed them your ideas, if you hint, they'll get it on their own. And, part of the fun of reading is when an author gives the reader enough room to develop their own opinion and ideas of the plot and certain characters. It is highly likely that a person may finish a book with a whole different idea of a character than what you intended when you wrote it. The best we can do is describe what we see in our head well enough for the reader to accept, but do not push your opinions onto them. We must show them our story like a movie, but how they perceive things is up to them.

Well, that is all the advice/tips I have for today based off of some musings and my own trial and error, haha... I guess I'll let you know the next time I'm in a pickle and am forced to realize these things ;D

Any feedback and opinions you get while reading this I'd love to hear! Any and all comments are very welcome and appreciated :) Even if you're not a writer!

Excerpt '"Welcome to my world" He said.'

2011-01-01T18:04:00.002-05:00

"That's when I noticed something else strange about Steven. He never set off the motion lights around my house. Not even while standing in my doorway."

Just something that flashed into my mind as I was heading out the door today.... makes me wanna write, right now! But alas, Harry Potter is calling :3

Ispirazione

2010-12-30T16:19:00.000-05:00

I've seriously been lacking not only when it comes to updating this, but writing in general. I have to say however, that whether I am writing or avoiding it, certain things spark my inspiration. Inspiration, as we all know, can come from anything, anytime, anywhere and from anyone. When it comes to the mood of my stories and characters, there is always inspiration behind it, or something I've found relating to it. Here are a few pictures that I've come across that relate to some of my stories, or have inspired certain things in them.

Enjoy, and feel free to snag any that inspire you, too!

In Italian, as in English, the word ispirazione primarily refers to imaginative power, the impulse urging to create a brainwork, especially an artistic work. It shares with English two other meanings: the divine influence leading to supernatural ends and the sudden brilliant creative or timely idea.

-A

The thing that should have been there all along

2010-12-06T00:59:00.000-05:00

Firstly, this isn't going to be a writing post, but an important find relating to Blogspot!

I was flabbergasted to find out that Blogspot didn't have a reply setup in the comments. Really... wtf? With how many people that you can watch and comment on, you can't imagine that they wouldn't want to know that if they leave a comment somewhere, that they wouldn't want a reply. How hard is it to add a reply button to a template? Lemme tell you: so NOT hard enough so that I added one. But this, despite it's easy access (depending on finding access to the code or being smart enough to make it) this really should be the default, because not everyone knows where to find it... let alone make it.

That is why I'd love to share something, because I'm just so geeked to have found it! It is a html code for a reply button *U*

Add Reply Button To Blogger

The steps are pretty straight forward, too.
I had issues when I went to the second part so I didn't add it and turns out I didn't need to... if you need help feel free to reply here and I'll tell ya what, if I can. Haha.

I also added a 'like' button to the page so that I can get some FB traffic in here. I realise not everyone has a Google Connect profile or a Blogspot but still check out my blog anyways, so it'll be a good way to show support and share the infos :) That is on that website, too!

So that is all I wanted to share in this update for now. When I find my USB for my writing, I'll be jumpin' back on here with more story stuffs. Till then, I'm off to watch The Walking Dead finale :D

Eh...

2010-12-02T02:35:00.000-05:00

Haven't been posting lately.. back in my usual (usual as of late) mindset of being overwhelmed and busy. This blog stuff is also more upkeep than I anticipated. I don't know what I expected, but its still pretty dead around here. I'm more known for my art vs my writing, and regardless of that it still sucks to not have the latter take off. I shared two parts of my The Monocle story but there has been little-to-no response. :\ Haha.. I sound like a sore loser, but meh.. All I ask is that you look below this entry and to where I posted the story... perhaps if I get some feedback on it I'll take some more time posting here. Till then, I dunno. :\

Fantasy Queen writes a "how to"

2010-11-19T21:13:00.000-05:00

I used to hate reading when I was a child. H-A-T-E. I was easily disinterested... not even Harry Potter appealed to me! (Of whom I love today!) until I was wandering the library in fifth grade. You see, we were told to choose a book, any book, for reading time. Forced, in my perception. So I walked up and down the aisles glancing at titles and book covers until I came upon a tiny hardcover pink book titled The Princess Test. That book started it all for me. It wasn't even it's contents alone that had me drawn in, but it opened up my love for fantasy and fairy tales. Gail Carson Levine really could write magic. Some years later I picked up another book of hers by chance, Ella Enchanted, and from thereon I couldn't be stopped. I have been collecting and devouring books ever since.

In 2006 she released a different type of book... Writing Magic. A How-To novel for "creating stories that fly". The tips and ideas in there are really helpful, and even though I haven't finished it yet, I've already learned so much as it is. In her first chapter "A Running Start" she gives you a list of ten sentences to finish, and to write with for at least 2 minutes. I picked number nine and the whole thing had enveloped into a story into my head. With just the first chapter alone, she spiked my inspiration up to a whole new level. I'd like to share what I wrote with you [the sentence she wrote will be the part in bold]:

The first time I saw Stephan, he painted a hex sign on my right hand, and I couldn't move my fingers for three hours.  He thought it was funny.  And even though the event scared the living crap out of me, I couldn't help but think of how devastatingly cute he was.  He wasn't your typical dark clothed, eyeliner wearing goth boy.  I'd say that if it wasn't for the sterling silver pentacle he wore around his neck, he could have been your regular hottie.  He had white-blonde hair hanging around his face and tan skin that almost made him look like a surfer from California.  And his eyes were crystal blue, I only noticed because he didn't keep his eyes off of me before he tugged my arm towards him and hexed me.

I guess I should have been mad, but I was more drawn in than scared or angry.  I did avoid him though, and watched as all my friends hung on him and flirted, none believing that my fingers actually couldn't move.  After that, the day pretty much went on uneventful.

With the new guy in school, I didn't have to worry about the usual snob crew that stood around the lockers snickering as I passed them.  I guess I could give Stephan that much credit, for saving me a few cuss words that is.

"I take it you didn't find my joke funny." A voice rose to meet me.  I turned to see that Stephan had caught up to me, staring with an amused glint in his sky-blue eyes.

I turned my head back to the exit doors, not giving in too much to his.. to his what?  Sex appeal?  He was wearing a sleeveless black shirt with the Nine Inch Nails logo splayed on the front, not that I noticed.  I diverted my mind away from appealing thoughts.  "Where's your fan girls?"

Stephan laughed, and leaned in for a whisper, "They don't know I'm gone yet.  Give it a few minutes."

I turned my head towards him, confused.  He stared at me with those same amused eyes, a knowing smile lifting the corners of his lips as if we were sharing an inside joke.  But I definitely didn't get the joke.  "What are you talking about?"

Stephan laughed again, and touched my shoulder to stop me.  "Wait... listen."  He pointed to the end of the hall, where around the corner the girls chatted.

I could hear them talking and laughing, and the occasional mention of Stephan's name.  After about a minute or so, the cheery hum of the girls voices changed.  Slowly the girls poured out into the hallway laughing jovially with a look of shock on their faces.

"Oh my god, Stephan!"  "That was so hilarious, how'd you do that?" The girls were coming towards us now, appearing shocked as if Stephan had just suddenly transported to the end of the hallway.

Stephan smiled, walking backwards away from the girls with out turning away, "Yeah, thanks.  Well, see you later, girls." He waved and turned around, pulling me out the door without another word.

The doors shut behind us, the bright sun reflecting the cumulus clouded sky upon the glass doors, showing no sign if the girls behind them were scowling at us or not.  I moved from range of Stephan's guiding arm and aimed another one of my confused glares at him.  "So you avoiding your fan club now?   Usually guys like a flock of girls to hang around them."

He laughed, it was almost musical.  "Well, lets just say that they're not what I'm looking for." He glanced at me, shoving his hands into his pockets, and then looked straight on again, a smile still lingering on his lips.

I gave a halfhearted 'huh' and kept walking to my car.  He still followed, and I let him.  By the time we reached my red Grand Am P.O.S. I got out my keys, doing anything to stall the time a bit longer, to give him time to get the point, but he just leaned against my car watching me fumble and look stupid.

I finally relinquished my hesitation and put the key into the car and unlocked it.  Then, leaning on the car door I looked over at him, my eyebrows raised in expectation for a reason he was still around.  "So?"

"So."  He didn't give.  He just stared at me, still smiling, hands in his pockets of his shorts, looking still very sexy.

I threw my books into the passenger seat and looked back at him, eyebrow raised and mocking a smiling in return, "You ditched a group of girls, followed me to my car, but you're not going to tell me what you're doing here, huh?  So very mysterious." I waved my hands around in exaggeration. But he just cocked a brow, not phased a bit. "Okay, well, I've got to get home, sorry to cut your skit short."  I got into my car, grabbed the door handle and got ready to pull it shut.

A hand stopped my progress, and Stephan came over, kneeling in my view.  "I know something about you, something you don't let the world know."  And in that moment, he was completely cliche as he pushed a strand of my fly-away hair behind my ear.  Regardless to his notions, I was completely dumbstruck by what he said; and regardless to how cliche he was, I fell for it completely.

"What are you—"

"Do you know of the old Filmore Theater on Wilkes Street?" Stephan said, rushed now.

"Uh, yeah. Everyone does, I'm sure." I nearly stammered.

"Meet me there, if you can, tonight.  Midnight."  He got up, shut my door for me and waved a goodbye as he turned around and walked off campus.

I sat there for a good minute before I could think enough for even the simple task of starting my car.  I drove home, all the while my heart aflutter.  I don't think I could tell you how the rest of the day went, because I wasn't really paying it any attention. I spent most of my time inside my head playing that scene over and over again until I found my self starting my car back up and driving to the abandoned theater at midnight.

And when I did, I met someone there.  His eyes glowed electric blue in the night like two tiny light bulbs and the hair framing his face shone like fiery tendrils in the soft hum of his incandescent eyes.

It looked like Stephan, but it also didn't look human.

***

If you'd like to pick up your own copy:

Writing Magic: Creating Stories That Fly

"The accomplished children's and young adult author speaks directly to young writers, providing advice on all aspects of fiction creation....addresses such topics as coming up with story ideas, developing characters and plot, and finding opportunities for publication. The tone is friendly and direct, getting quickly to the point in each short chapter, which closes with writing prompts. Levine encourages readers to take their work seriously while remembering to have fun. An informative and encouraging must-read for young writers."

If you've read/used or own it, let me know what you've done! :)

How to develop your story / Research

2010-11-16T01:44:00.001-05:00

In attempts to develop my story further, The Monocle, I've come to a halt. You see, I have a beginning written, but no direction. What I've written years ago now lays immobile and I've forgotten where I was taking it. This brought up some important information that all writers should do in order to develop a good story.

So I've been doing some research on developing a story. Got a few great sources that I'd like to share:

First is something called The Snowflake Method ! It's proven to be real useful. It helps you start from the very essence of your story and branch outwards. You start with simply one sentence of your story.. and this is where I realized that I can only really tell half of the sentence describing The Monocle. I do not have an endpoint, a climax, the deep meaning. Just.. a beginning. I encourage you all to read that article if you'd like to solidify further what you write about! :)

Also, when doing a period piece like I am, it is important to solidify the dates in which you write in. Just like my last blog post was about, how I pinpointed what sort of fashion and architecture I want to incorporate. I think it's also important that you don't draw in any modern phrases or ideas into a period piece. Example: Don't use current slang or cuss words if you want to set the mood, saying any term used today in our society might totally throw off the reader. I remember watching Ginger Snaps: The Beginning (I know, totally off the wall example..) and one of the lead characters swore "Fuck you!" and drew me right out of their world and back into the present.

If you plan on writing about a place you've never been to, it is important that you do as much research as humanly possible! If you don't know what you're talking about, neither will your readers. And, to top that off, you might have a reader who has been to or lives in the area you are writing of, and has no idea where you're talking about and instantly dismisses your story altogether. Personally, I find doing research to be fun, you never know what sort of things you dig up while doing so, and might even find more ideas of things to incorporate into your story.

If I were to continue writing in the 1860's as I have planned, here are some good examples of crazy things that went on that I could easily incorporate into my story or be inspired from:

Death Parlors: In the 19th century, before we called it a Living Room, those rooms were used to house the dead instead of funeral homes, because funeral homes didn't exist yet. Back then, the only picture that would be taken of you would commonly be the one of you dead, sat up or laying down as if you were still alive. More richer families could afford photos being taken during their lives, but for the poor, these postmortem photographs were all they could afford. For a great, (but disturbing) read, check out my source.

Bloke Buzzer. A pickpocket who specializes in picking the pockets of men only. (Moll buzzer being one that specializes in women only)

After doing some more research, I've discovered I'm not hot about American history, haha. I'm not sure if I want to incorporate too much about the Civil War and since I'd like this in the south, I'll either have to place my story before the war broke out or in Europe, haha. It is important that you don't disclude a huge part of history surrounding your story if it's supposed to be there, so this is something to think about.

Sorry I didn't dig up more facts, but that's what I have today :)

The Monocle setting DEFINED

2010-11-14T14:32:00.000-05:00

Coming to a crossroads while trying to figure out what time The Monocle should take place in. So, I've come across some cool information regarding such:

The first image is a female fashion timeline.. and this may be just me, but one of the things I recognize what time it is (1800s, 1700s) is by the fashion (you can blame this on my artsy side). Also, this is important for when describing clothing. You may need to click it to read it (or rather, you WILL need to, haha)

So far with The Monocle I've been going for a sort of fancy gown, but nothing with the inside cage/hoop that makes them large, as well as still using corsets, so this roughly places my story in the 1830's to the 1860's. I like the idea of hoop skirts still being used but less frequently, more so as their 'Sunday Best' and everyday wear was something a little less... puffy. I also want to avoid doing anything during the civil war because I'm not a huge war nut when it comes to my writing and it would be naive to write around a war with out mentioning it... (the civil war happened just after the 1860's according to the chart, I still have more research to do however). Also I'd like to keep the story near the South, in America. I like the idea of large old plantation mansions surrounded by lots of land and small towns.

I found another source that showed sketches of the styles in the 1800s and the early ones (between 1830-1850) with bonnets... ugh. I'm not huge on that trend, could I avoid writing about them? Haha. Here are some of the style pages that represent more of what I'm looking for:

Minus the bonnets of course, I quite these styles, the dresses aren't crazy poofy and I like the low shoulder look, seems a bit modern (even though in the late 1800's they buttoned everything up to their chin, haha)

The middle dress here is close to how I see someone young like Lilian Vermilion would dress, minus most of the frills and flowers of course... however, this places the story in about mid to late 1850's which is a bit later than I'd like.

This last image seems most ideal to the images in my mind. The dress on the far left is the closest of the sketches of what I'd like to describe in my story. However, that style is dated 1867, which is just after the Civil War according to another source... which might not be so bad if I'd like to start my story just after it, meaning I can talk/write about the setting in a sort of aftermath and not the depressing withdrawn states in between.

Architecture

Typing in 'mid 1800s Architecture' into google brought up some more ideal settings, so I think I'm on the right path. To get a sort of idea of what I am going for here are some images:

If this house was a little larger (since I describe Maybury Manor as having hundreds of rooms.... lol, might need to change that for realistic purposes) it would be nearer perfect. But it is Victorian styled and that is more towards my aim.

Now, this is more like it. I could do with less rap around porch and beams, but the size is about right. I describe Maybury Manor as haveing at least 3 stories, but how this is out in the open with room in the back for a garden and maze, this is more towards my ideal. I also love the tall floors but again, I don't want the upperfloor porch with the beams below, I'd more like the tall windows to be visible and in the front.

Now, if this was one story higher and white with no crenelations (those bumpy castle looking things atop, hell yes I know that word! ;D ) then this would be it. Actually, I'd like to claim this as my #1 reference image from here on out. The backyard is even ideal. Instead of those bushes near the front of the image, place a fountain right there, and this would be the backyard in my head.

Well, I've spent way too long writing this, I need to get to work in 20! Thanks for looking :)

The Monocle, part II

2010-11-13T17:26:00.000-05:00

I'd like to share a bit more of The Monocle before I get started on writing it again! I don't really feel it did justice for you guys in just the bit I shared, so here is part 2:

    Maggie May gestured up the stairs which were white marble and swirled upwards in a wide bend till you could not see where they lead. Again, Simon went first. Such a small curious boy Simon was, and fearless, like any five year old. His steps had to be large to reach from step to step. He was small for his age, and had hair like a burning sunset. A bright crop of orange hair that fell in sweeping amounts as short as to his ears. He looks just like their mother, large blue orbs, a light dust of freckles, and that bright orange hair. She didn’t look a thing like her mother. Or her father. Her hair was a limp light brown and fell around her shoulders and to her lower back, and her eyes were a cold lifeless gray. A strange combination, she was once told by a Hat Salesman.

    He would lean over his wooden counter and place an elbow upon the surface and the hand against his cheek and just stare. It would make me uncomfortable, always, up until he finally spoke his reasons for staring rudely. “Your eyes”, he’d say, “I’ve never seen slate gray eyes paired with a hair color hue such as yours. I’d call you Jewish, if it weren’t for those eyes of yours.” He’d ask me who I knew with eyes like silver and hair of brown, and I’d tell him that they were gifts from no one. Just a curse, something to drive me to my wit’s end with stares. A practical joke played by the Man behind the curtains. He sold me a shaw instead that day, for half price, one he told me could shield myself from unwanted stares whenever I felt like disappearing. He packed it in a pretty hat box, one that was reserved for some of the higher priced items and told me “Don’t dislike yourself, in this world unique things are praised, you’ll come to find out when you’re older.”

    Maggie May, on the other hand, had crystal blue eyes. They looked fresh from a newborn, framed by a face full of smiling wrinkles. Perhaps I was suited here after all, in a place where everyone doesn’t seem to fit in mold set by the public of what is acceptable. Even her dresses were strange, as if she lived in Europe, and not just a little town in the south.

    The house Maggie May called just a simple cozy home seemed to swallow me whole. My room alone was the size of the apartment in which my brother and I lived in with Uncle Bartholo. Here I had a four-poster bed at the very center of the room as if I was presented as a showpiece when I slept. If it weren’t for the thick maroon curtains that draped down as four walls, I would have rather slept in a corner. Maggie May showed me my own bathroom, dressing area, a fresh flock of new dresses, and a little vanity. She said that “Every girl approaching seventeen should own a vanity. It is an essential tool to becoming a woman. A place where one can be herself, look upon herself, and contemplate what she is to become.” She said it would bring me luck, because it had brought her luck when she was a child.

    I stayed in my little octagonal haven and unpacked some things to fill up my vanity. I figured by now Simon was searching the walls for hidden passageways and peeking into many of the hundreds of rooms Maybury Manor held. And indeed, on the floor above me, a pitter-patter of quick footsteps echoed into my room and made me smile. I had momentarily forgotten that I was holding something within my hands, something I wanted to tuck away where no one would come across it but myself. I opened the lid to my fancy round hat box, and decorating the inside was newspaper clippings freshly cut from every article that mentioned my uncle. One day, or perhaps never, I would get answers. And for fear that my uncle would go on undiscovered and forgotten, I kept these things to remind me of him. I had also the luck to keep the monocle, even though the memory attached to it was sad. It was hard evidence that one day when my mind is stretched and I have lived my life, I’ll know that this here, now, was not a dream. I placed the lid back onto the box and hid it in the last bottom drawer on the right side of my vanity, and atop it I placed my scarves and shaw to further assure its hindrance.

    Back at my old home privacy was a privilege. I had shared a room with Simon, and so there was always noise and chatter to fill up the silence. Here, privacy came in abounds. And with it, sadness. There was something in the quiet spaces of emptiness that held whispers, taunting and jabbing at the thoughts I chose to place behind me, for now at least. Where as at my old home I searched for a place to be on my own, here, I instead went looking for company.

    I feared that upon leaving my room I would be sucked into the maze of endless halls and dead ends and stairways that I would not again find another living soul till next morning’s light. Tonight was approaching fast, and by the minute, light was fading from the windows and taking with it my ability to see down the hall. It felt like a bad dream, never ending and scarcely a human presence. And just like in a dream, a faint glowing orb appeared in the growing darkness, a light at the end of the tunnel. I walked towards it. As I gained, it seemed to be coming to me as well. First it seemed to be just floating and I feared that Maggie May’s house was haunted. Perhaps by the spirit of her dead husband, forever in sorrow for leaving her behind or protecting a secret room that hid his treasures. Such fanciful thoughts left me as I began to make out hands holding the flame, and then arms and a chest. It was yards away now, and the flame was held higher than I first assumed. A voice spoke in the dark, and the figure raised the candle yet higher still to illuminate the hall to see me. It was a mans voice, perhaps a young man for it still held a youth to it, and a sweetness. He asked if I might be the Lillian Vermilion he’s heard so much about. I nodded, too shy to speak, for the candle had illuminated his face.

    His name was Luke Von Cheshire, a much older sounding name than he appeared. His eyes reflected yellow from the candle, making it difficult to pinpoint a color beneath them. But his hair shown black, long to his neck and sweeping across his face. His smile was sweet, even though it was just given to a stranger. He told me he works in the manor to undertake whichever tasks the lady gives to him, and tonight, he was to light the candles upon the holsters outside the doors of the new guests. He also told me that he had met Simon already, and escorted the poor lost boy to his room. I shared a small laugh with him and told him that Simon was a curious boy and might need escorting to his room again sometime in the near future. From there the conversation was light, but I was grateful for the company nonetheless. He led me back to my room, under the impression that I must be tired after the long ride to Maybury Manor. I let him think that I was, for tonight at least, the type who tires early and wakes to catch the early worm. He stopped at my door and lit the candle placed to it’s right and bid me goodnight. He stood there a moment longer and gave me another sweet smile before he turned around and walked down the dark hall again till he became again just a glowing orb in the shadows. I slept lightly that night and woke to every creak of wood and gust of wind. At one point of restlessness I opened the curtain facing my vanity and strode over to the bottommost drawer and withdrew my secret box. I took out the monocle and gingerly placed it onto my pillow next to me. And as if protected by a glimmer of hope, and drawn exhausted by hopelessness, conflicted, I fell asleep.

    It was some odd hour early into the morning that I hear my door open. My eyes, adjusted to the darkness by a few hours of sleep, saw a small figure approach my bed. I held out an arm to the sleepy Simon as he climbed onto my bed and wiggled into my covers. He was asleep again within minutes, but I stayed awake a little while longer and stroked his hair soothingly. He may not fully register the change made by the unfortunate events, but he felt them, surely. I was grateful for the company, and between the monocle and Simon, sleep came swifter and easier the second time around.

... And I'll leave it at that! From here on it'll be snippets and excerpts and characters. I'll be posting some drawings as well hopefully. I hope you enjoyed it! :)

A Great Discovery

2010-11-10T16:35:00.001-05:00

I was going through my writing USB, one I hadn't really used very much this year. Ever since my step dad passed away things have been rough. My mom has had frequent hospital trips for her mental state and things like that, I've been nearly kicked out a few times and work eats up everything else. On my USB I found a file titled "The Monocle" and meant to just open it up, glance it over, and shut it again. I ended up reading everything in there, and I think The Monocle is going to be the story in which I share here the most.

If I ever care to publish it upon completion (or try) I can't imagine that it'd be a good idea to share the whole thing online. So, I will give excerpts, character descriptions, and of course art pieces of the story (I have one from the past already). But as a first installment, I'd like to share the beginning paragraphs <3

The Monocle

Like a drop of ink on parchment, the spot was small but dark enough to repeatedly draw your eye to it. The mole was placed precisely at the center of the first chin, where most handsome men carried a dimple. If it weren’t for it’s wiggle on the stern face of a man, I would’ve taken him with no further approach. Every aspect of the man seeped with intimidation. But the wiggle told that the man was holding back a laugh. He was a menacing individual. A high reputation for upholding the law. The lips that should be directly above the mole were hidden in a thick mustache that curled into two upward points at each side of a round face. Dark eyebrows framed a look of deep penetration, pushing the skin to overlap over the monocle of his left eye. A stern face, indeed. Of a menacing man with a mole chin.   He was feared, he was respected, he was my uncle.

    Sir Bartholomew Clay was his name, but to me and my little brother he was a father, an uncle, and a gifted storyteller. On nights taken by strong winds of an angry storm or pelting of icy rain he would place his monocle on our table side and sit with us in our beds and stir up a tale from thin air to quiet our fears. We called him Uncle Bartholo, the Magician Tale Weaver. For a man who faces torture and injustice in heaping amounts, his tales were sweet and brave. He always managed to sneak in a moral or two, with the telling of brave knights for my brother and strong, able princesses for me. We would fall asleep to his voice, gruff from interrogating criminals and hard from what he witnessed, still forever lingering images on the edge of his mind. It was like a lullaby all in it’s own to us two. All till the day he disappeared.

    Nights forever seem darker with the absence of our uncle. Outside our little family, he was the father of the city, and he sung lullabies to the townspeople through reassurance and justice. But he was gone now, and all that was left behind was his monocle; cracked down the center and tarnished from a weeks-worth of searching through the discards of sewage below the streets. The city grew colder by the day with out him. Winter winds blew in from the west, but it was also fear that frosted our windows that year. And alongside the wind, my brother and I went. To Ilga, we were told. To live with our aunt.

    She was not really our aunt, as was the chief not really our uncle. There was nothing that bound us to her, and her to our last guardian. Indeed, we had no one by blood we could call family, not since the sweep of influenza four years past. We were harbored with love as we approached the double front doors, or perhaps it was pity that disguised the smiling instead. The day was dreary gray, and the large white house seemed to have faded into it. Flurries of snow floated silently down to my brother and I as we walked the narrow path to meet a face that shown so much smile there was barely an inch of face left beneath it.

    Margaret Maygold Mistlethwait II of Maybury Manor was her introduction to us. Her parents must have had quite the sense of humor to be brave to name someone such a name. She bent her knees ever so slowly as she sunk to our height to tell us to just call her Maggie May, with a wink and another large smile. It seemed so unfitting on a face as old as hers, but when she did smile, her youth was restored briefly, and it nearly made me want to smile with her. My little brother, shorter still than Maggie May bent on her knees, inquisitively poked the old woman in the dimple of her cheek and laughed. Sweet little Simon. So unaffected, unaware. I wish I had that innocence to forget what the meeting of Margaret Maygold Mistlethwait II meant.

    Maggie May stood, with much effort of pushing her hands on her knees to straighten her back and legs, swept aside to show us in. I followed Simon into a hall as tall as the outside walls, and as white. Few pictures sat on tiny tables that looked as if they would collapse if you simply breathed on them. The small frames held even smaller photos, black and white and yellow with age. Men, one with a top hat and a snobbish smile, the other hunched over with a lopsided grin. I began to wonder what sort of woman Maggie May was when she was younger. Perhaps a swinger? A courtesan? She is now, most likely, a widow. A house such as this must have not come of her own accord and success, but perhaps an inheritance or a gift from a dead husband.

***

I hadn't edited the draft since I first wrote it some years ago, and I mean to do so before sharing much more. I've noticed that in this story I've developed a habit of writing just a first-person view who is telling the story through her observation, so that includes no actual dialogue being framed with quoatation marks... haha. Very strange new typing style, but I'll change it to the norm soon enough =P

The unfortunate thing is that I don't remember where I was taking the story, if I had any idea in the first place. If I find notes on it, great, if not, I guess I'll just have to take it somewhere new. Please let me know what you think of it so far :)

***

Esther

2010-11-10T12:57:00.000-05:00

Esther was, indeed, one of those book-wormy slim girls who wore big loose sweaters and had short inky black hair. She didn't get much sun either, and she had a keen attraction to striped clothing. Her fingers were dry from the turning of many pages, and eyes almost always dead when she looked at anything other than a book. You wouldn't run into Esther, or even say hi to her passing, not unless you were on your way to the library and had an urge to check out the darkest dustiest end of the building with that light that was always flickering. Something that a lot of people didn't know about her was that she has a tattoo of Rosmarinus officinalis between her shoulder blades. Well, people have heard, but no one has ever seen it. They joke about why she would have a tattoo of an herb on her back. She also had a much more known tattoo right underneath her chin, it was a small black star. None of these things add up to make much sense however, and the most confusing thing of all about Esther was no one has ever seen her leave that library. Some, such as the front desk clerk in the library, even swear that when he goes down each section shutting off rows of lights, that dark flickering corner Esther sits in starts glowing red...

But the desk clerk is too chicken shit to go back there. Or even fix that light.

Inspiration used:

The name Esther (I think I got my first inspiration from the girl's name in the movie The Orphan)
Prof. Trelawney from Harry Potter had used a similar line to my "Her fingers were dry from the turning of many pages" line. I always loved that description. In the novel, she was insulting Hermione Granger, haha.
Stripes!

***

I wrote Esther at work sometime earlier this month I think, I was just hit with random inspiration. I hadn't really edited it since moving it here, but I like the idea of a story like this, so I thought I'd share! :)

***

400 Characters or Less

2010-11-09T02:13:00.000-05:00

I couldn't for the life of me find a decent question on the profile page. I see what BlogSpot was going for, challenging you to come up with a clever or funny answer to an off-the-wall question, but most of them were down right stupid. No.. I don't care what my father would do with my food if I rode a roller coaster 3x. No, I don't want to think of 5 names to a band I'd be a part of.. I don't play any instrument or even sing... But, my attention was momentarily grabbed by the question What did you dream when you ate a spider while sleeping? And so I thought I'd give it a shot.

And the strangest thing happened: I've exceeded the character limit. So, I find it ironic that you'd be asked crazy questions and not be able to indulge in the idea with a little story? Either way, I came up with something and thought instead that I'll share it here. What else are writing blogs for? ;)

I had just turned off the tv, and when the screen blinked away the silence in my house was more evident than ever. It was gray out, too, like my vision was desaturated. I got up and walked across the cold wooden floor to the kitchen and set my empty bowl on the table. There was nothing outside my window, just a thick and heavy fog. Everything was muted. And then I heard it...

A tapping on the floorboards behind me. TAP.. TAP.. TAP... I could feel the vibrations through my toes. Standing there, utterly immobile, I just waited for the sound to go away. But it didn't.. it just got closer. My whole body tensed with the urge to run out of the room. TAP... TAP. It stopped. And then I felt a thin sharp stick going up my back, dragging against my spine and raising every hair on my body. It continued up my neck, and finally, I forced myself to turned around. The leg of a giant spider went across my cheek and poked me swiftly on the lips. I jumped back, feeling the blood trickle down my chin. It's eyes, all six of them the sizes ranging from tennis balls to dinner plates, were staring directly at me, fixed on my own. My attention was diverted to something moving on it's back, bubbling. No.. it wasn't bubbling, something on it was moving. I watched in horror as a million little baby spiders jumped off it's back and made their way towards me. I couldn't back up any more, and I hit the table behind me and tried to scramble on top of it.

The large spider struck the legs of the table out from under me and I went cascading right towards the oncoming wave of spiders.. a feeding frenzy began. Screaming, I could feel them pouring into my mouth, muffling me. Weighing down my arms and legs and crawling inside my ears and up my nose. I couldn't breathe. I felt a tingling sensation on my entire body, in my entire being.

I woke and choked up a spider onto my covers... he walked away, chuckling.

Pond of Princes

2010-11-08T00:48:00.000-05:00

It's a few years old now, but this is the original draft of PoP. This was written before I decided to change up the setting and back when it was meant to be a traditional fantasy.

Once upon a time, in a kingdom atop a hill, lived three sisters in the three tallest towers.  They were the three daughters of the wise and just King Gabriel.  Life in the kingdom was easy and carefree, the girls happy and untroubled.  Perhaps their happiness was a blindfold over the eyes, for it was not happy times.  If I was to tell you a story of the happiness the three daughters shared with each other and their wise and just father, the story would be short and sweet.  Alas, I would like to tell you a tale of three daughters who lost their mother during the childbirth of the youngest daughter, and the tale of finding love long lost and buried.  I would like to share the magic that surrounds the hilltop kingdom each day, and the journey into fate and discovery through enlightenment of the past.

Wrapped inside their own woven worlds of happiness away from the blunt and harsh truths seeping below the surface, the three princesses lived in a carefree happiness.  The youngest was with chestnut brown hair and the greenest eyes in the entire kingdom.  She sat in her chair next to the window everyday, and read.  The slightly older middle sister had shiny golden hair that sparkled in the sun, and crystal blue eyes like the sapphires in her crown.  She was always found in the sewing room, encircled by dressmakers and servants alike, for she liked to have a new gown made for her everyday.  The oldest princess, however, had hair of reds and oranges like an autumn tree and eyes like an evening sky.  But she unlike the other two, was never found in the castle at all.  She was found in the valleys and forests at the bottom of the hilltop kingdom.

In the summer months preceding her seventeenth birthday, Princess Sophie took part in many adventures during her wanderings outside the castle.  And on one of these sweet summer days is where our story awakens destiny from it’s slumbers and fate from it’s gilded cage.

This needs a Title

2010-11-07T12:11:00.001-05:00

I've been meaning to make a blog for going on years now. I can blame recent inspiration on the following things:

April Elizabeth and her new blog
My Michigan Autumn
My scewy life.

I started this on my laptop in my room, which doesn't have any artsy programs like my art computer at the other end of the house, so for now don't flinch too much at my simple blog header ;) I will fix it!

In here, I plan on sharing some of the things I write. It's been so long... I haven't written in ages. I am not on par with how I used to write. I blame this on the third bullet "My screwy life" which, coincidentally, is the reason I also started this.

I have plenty of stories, half written, half loved and adored. I want to finish them. And, with exception of a few sites, I haven't really finished what I started. This is gonna be different.

The Header
The picture at the top of the page is a quick I drew inspired by a story I am writing, and would love to share here. It's called The Pond of Princes. I love writing all sorts, and this one in particular started as a sort of traditional fantasy, light hearted and full of magic. What it's turned into, by the time of drawing that picture, is a dark gothic tale set in the 1800's where the main character pictured wanders into an overgrown building where inside lies a grove, a pond in the center encased around broken floorboards. Inside this grove are many small creatures.. who can speak. Pictured is the Robin, who explains better than the others, how they got there. And, what hasn't changed since my first inspiration, was the little golden crowns atop every head of the little things.

I kind of view this building as a grand hall in a mansion, the walls are tall and surrounded with columns to hold up the roof. There are some windows, but they've been long overrun by vines, as well as the columns. The floor is hardly recognizable and I'd really like to throw in a rose window somewhere at the opposite end. Where the floor boards have been broken, there is a large pond. The main entrance is a large opening, where the door that stood there has fallen and become a part of the earth (with exception of the golden doorknob peaking through the grass) and outside shows more overgrowth and fallen columns that had once supported a balcony to the upper floor but had fallen ages ago. (It's a wonder how she found the place at all, huh? haha)

I still have plenty of research to do on how people acted like and what sort of lives they lived in the 1800's. When I reset my location for the story I went from a hilltop castle and traded it in for a dark and depressing gothic setting which I love, but don't know much about. And, in turn, I need to rewrite a lot including the intro.

So, in closing for today, expect a lot of different things from me here. And lastly let me share some links of where I can be found at:

My DeviantART
My Facebook
My Prints

:)