Apologies and an announcement

First, I'm terribly sorry to those of you who actually followed this blog that I have been neglecting it for so long. If there's anyone left still willing to read this I just wanted to let you know that I won't be taking this blog up again, at least not for the foreseeable future. I've recently changed my email and with that I've been assigned a new blogger account and decided to start a fresh new writing blog. It won't be like this too much because I'll be focusing on reading and writing and my struggles and adventures with it. If you'd like to check it out this is the url: http://blackmarksonwoodpulp.blogspot.com/  I welcome your comments and ideas and I hope you'll join me :)

Week 12

So I completely spaced last week's entry, my bad.

Anyway, to recap, we met with Carol Lynch Williams before the Thanksgiving break and I have to say that talking to her, though mostly listening, was a blast. The woman is hilarious though she can come off as being very flippant sometimes. She was our last author to visit and I think she wrapped up what I've been hearing all semester very nicely like writing about what moves you and how you make time for the things you love to do. Out of everyone we've heard from, I think I relate most to her writing process. She told us that when she writes, she'll edit as she goes, reading through yesterday's writing before starting for today. I've always been like this when I write which can make for slower going but we can't all be zippy little writers :P I really appreciated her outline for the way she lays out her books with how many chapters are usually allotted to what sections and what needs to be included in each section, at least generally. She told us that our stories should start on a day when everything is different and, oddly enough, I'd never really thought about that before, how most all stories do that. Thinking about that actually helped me figure out where to start my novel which was handy even though I'm rethinking it now. Honestly, I really just enjoyed so much of what she said like how in the middle of your novel, when the writing gets hard and perhaps less interesting, you need to get your character up a tree and throw rocks at them. Also, she mentioned those doors/choices a character makes or is forced into that prevent them from going back to where they were. It's odd because I usually think of those as more physical manifestations but they can also be when your character learns something that changes the way they view other people/the world, etc.

Good stuff to think about and try out :)

So, we're all knee deep into our Individual Projects now and I am so excited to read everyone's stories! Currently mine is misbehaving a little bit but I'll share some of it with you.

"Witch." The word was quiet and yet forceful, its speaker indistinguishable from the crowd but soon they were all chanting it.

"Witch. Witch. Witch." The word hissed across the ground and around my ankles, seeping into my clothes until its weight almost dragged me down. The corset I was wearing was quickly becoming too tight. I cursed the day I had become preoccupied with town-side fashion.

"Yes," Blaines whispered, his voice anything but kind, "a witch. And what do we do with witches?"

The shout was deafening after the hushed whispers.

"Burn them!"

As one, they stepped forward but I slammed the door shut and flung the bolt across it before they could take another.

Week 11

I love workshop days, can I just say that? There is nothing quite like getting that feedback, the negative as well as the positive. When I feel stuck in a certain area or something, work-shopping is just the thing to help me out. Not to mention is absolutely awesome to read what everyone else is writing. The whole thing is very exciting. I especially love being able to identify certain people by their writing now, having gone through the semester with them. It's cool to recognize literary footprints.

For my final project thingy I'm looking to write 2 to 3 chapters of a YA novel. I have a story in mind, now we'll see if it feels like cooperating, if not behaving.

This is going to be a brief entry today so I'm skipping right to a bit of my recent writing.

"I'll be there in a minute." I waved Julia on as I slipped into the bathroom. The door clattered shut behind me. The springs must be wound too tight or something.

I blinked to adjust to the dim light of the room. Why is it that bathrooms are either too dim or too bright? This one gave me the feeling of being underwater with the blue green tiles and paint just barely illuminated by the bulbs above me. The white sinks stood out like a row of seashells.

Scanning the row of five stalls I noticed that there was only one other person here, occupying the third stall.

I counted back in my head. It was Thursday. I'd used this bathroom twice this week. That meant today was the third stall. Of course it would be. I huffed and leaned against the wall to wait.

I was going to be late for class. Again. But I knew better than to just use one of the four open stalls. This girl was going to think I was crazy for waiting when there were so many open but it didn't matter. If I just used one of the others I'd be back in here in five minutes if Mrs. Kelsy would give me a bathroom pass. Then I'd have to explain my double trip to Julia.

I pulled out my notebook and flipped through it, looking over the homework that was already piling up for tonight.

I heard the flush and then the running of the tap. I nodded absently as the girl passed me and the door clattered again. She was wearing shiny new sneakers with sequins. Not really my style, but to each their own I suppose.

Week 10

Is it just me or have we officially hit that point in the semester when everyone's brains just kind of explode? I know mine has and, judging by the kinds of questions we've been getting at our desk in the library, I'd say this has happened to several other people at least.

Thanksgiving can't come soon enough.

I ripped through Princess Academy in the last few days [I adore Shannon Hale] and I just picked up The Screwtape Letters this afternoon. I've never read it before and I'm excited to get into it. My biggest question right now: why is his name Screwtape? Wormwood I understand as with many of the other names that have already come up but Screwtape? Seriously, what kind of demon is that? I'm assuming that it is my symbolic knowledge that is lacking here because I would never insult C.S. Lewis, though I am intrigued at the dedication made to JRR Tolkien at the beginning of this edition.

Okay, today's writing excerpt is from the big YA idea rumbling around my skull right now. It only ever comes in bits and pieces and never in an specific order but I'm working on that. In the mean time, please feel free to let me know if you think this works or not. I can take it!

Time had such little meaning here and I had nothing to mark it with even if I had wanted to. I never knew if the glimpses of the forest that I saw were given to me in my own time or if I was witness to another plane where a world experienced the seasons out of order. Though, it was more likely that the one out of order was me.

I watched the trees for a long time, trying to assess what time of year it was out there where lives were normal and being lived. October? No, November. Though many of the trees were still clothed in rich colors, others had shed their leaves entirely and I watched in pained wonder as yet another tree released a storm of leaves, a cloud of swirling color caught up by a breeze before settling upon the forest floor.

I missed autumn. Walking through the trees under falling leaves had always been a treat each year. I couldn't tell if the magic was being kind or cruel in giving me this site of the season I loved the most but would always be ever only on the brink of here in eternal summer.

I heard myself sigh, a great rushing, rumbling, and heart-wrenched sound very unlike the dainty, staged, little sighs that I had exuded in another life.

Week 9

And I'm late! Ah! What's happening to me?!

I'm going crazy that's what. Completely bonkers.

Oh well.

Lately I have been struggling with writing [okay, life in general], just not having any motivation and making it easier for myself to not make time for it but it's always there at the back of my head. Hopefully I'll be able to pull it back into habit territory soon.

For my YA novel I read The Host by Stephanie Meyer. For those of you who haven't read it, hold your horses. I've heard all there is to complain about in regards to the Twilight series and let me tell you that her writing has much improved with this book. I've probably read it at least 5 times and it brings me to tears each time [in a good way]. I'm not generally way into scifi which is where she treads here but I love this story, its originality and complexity. Her character development isn't even comparable to the Twilight books because you actually come to care for the characters in The Host though I will admit that [for some strange, personal mental reason] I mispronounced the main characters name for the longest time [and I still do because I've decided I like it better than the common pronunciation].

Okay, can I rant to you guys for a minute? So I'm a psychology major, hence my advanced writing credit is Writing Within Psychology this semester which is all about academic writing which I positively abhor. Getting through class has been hard enough due to my dislike of the writing style but last week it got worse in an unimaginable way. My TA was teaching the class and we were talking about Journalese and how the quality of writing in popular magazines like People has gone down the tube. Valid argument, yes? Suddenly, he decided to sidetrack and offend me in the biggest way imaginable [I assume it was just me because none of my classmates objected to the following. some even, horrifically, agreed with him]. He said "So let's talk about Harry Potter for a minute. Aside from what it may have done/be doing for young kids learning to read, etc., it's awful writing. It's just bad writing." I swear, if I had been fortuitously holding something heavy in my hand at that moment I would have thrown it in the general direction of his skull [because let's admit it, I have no aim]. I just couldn't believe he had said that! But then he continued with "I mean, if I were to re-write it I would do it completely differently." And guess what monsieur TA? NO ONE WOULD HAVE READ IT. Can I please get an "AMEN" to this? I may get ridiculously enraged when I think about this, but I know I'm not crazy.

[steps outside to take a little breather]

I'm going to move on to a very short snippet of my sad writing journal. As always, I tend more toward introspection that actually writing...I need to work on that.

Who would we be without mirrors, if we never saw ourselves? Our judgement of others would potentially stand but how would we think of ourselves? Was it our ability to see others' appearances that first drove us to seek out and make reflective surfaces in which to examine, and then preen ourselves? How would we, and our world, be different without them?

Week 8, YA and Ally Condie

Ah, YA, we meet at last. Yes, the culminating genre has arrived at last. I'm rather excited about work-shopping this section, though not for my own pieces of course, haha.

Anyway, last week we had the extreme pleasure of meeting with Ally Condie, author of the series Matched. Perhaps I was most excited about this because I actually, for once, knew who the visiting author was. I picked up Matched about a year or so ago and have eagerly awaited the subsequent volumes ever since. I'm a big distopia fan as we saw last week, you can generally get me to read almost anything in that genre without much cajoling.

Let me just say though, that Ally Condie is amazing. I felt like a little kid seeing her come in the room and listening to her, sitting in my seat like an adoring little fan, awed that she would descend to speak to us. Don't get me wrong, I've loved being present for all the other author visits and I have learned from each of them. The thing about Ally though [is it okay if I just call her Ally?] is that, somehow, she just seemed more real, more relate-able. We've hypothesized about why this is as a class. Perhaps because she is closer to us in age than the other authors have been, perhaps because she doesn't put on a presentation for audiences at this point in her career. I'm not sure we could ever really pin it down but there was just something that made me so eager to listen and left me feeling so empowered to write. Her history with writing made the whole process sound more possible and doable than it ever had before.

My absolute favorite piece of advice that she gave was that when you write, you should write to write the book or poem or article that you're thinking of. Don't write with publication in mind because that can be enough stress and pressure to crush any perfectly awesome story you might have to tell. I'm not sure why, but this kind of blew my mind. Each author we've talked to so far has mentioned bad first drafts, the idea that it's okay to write badly the first and even second times around, everyone [with very very few exceptions] does it and that's what revisions are for. I understood this and it has been a relief to realize the truth of that. Ally echoed this sentiment as well but the advice she tacked on somehow made the picture more complete for me. I can't say that I've become a writing fiend since then but I am much more optimistic about my ideas and projects now.

Okay, so when I last posted I was reading When We Were Friends. I have since finished the book and I'm not entirely sure what to think. I liked it, that much is true. Good writing for me is most easily evident when my emotions begin to echo those of the characters I'm reading about. The thing I'm not sure on is how I feel about the way things played out. The plot is such that a moral and ethical dilemma is placed before the main character and the reader alike and you may discover that you would not have chosen the same way or that you do not, in fact, know what you would do in such a situation and it's such an intense one that not knowing makes you somewhat uncomfortable. It makes you unable to pass judgement on the character or yourself really and I don't know too many people that really enjoy uncertainty. I would recommend the read if you're up for something intense :)

I was reading recently in Bird by Bird, a chapter about "looking around." Lamott talks about observing the world around you, especially trying it through the eyes of a child where everything is a wonder. She mentions how important it is to observe things and people around you, to really get a respect for those parts of life that you're trying to capture. You have to know yourself before you can explore someone else. My interest was especially peaked because she talks about nature and our surroundings the same way we often do in church, about being able to see the love of God in everything, even a plate of fish and rice. Especially on days like today with the beautiful fall colors and sunlight on the mountains, I resonate with that.

She talks about how we have to train our minds to see ourselves with that same love and respect that we almost naturally give others. She relates this training to potty training a puppy. For those of you who haven't had the pleasure of reading this section I will quote it: "Try looking at your mind as a wayward puppy that you are trying to paper train. You don't drop-kick a puppy into your neighbor's yard every time it piddles on the floor. You just keep bringing it back to the newspaper. So I keep trying gently to bring my mind back to what is really there to be seen, maybe to be seen and noted with a kind of reverence."

Sometimes we forget or ignore the fact that our minds can be trained, we are not doomed to think and see as we have thus far thought and seen. I know I for one could do much better at being observant and not having my eyes on the ground all the time. Lamott has a delightful sentiment about this self-absorption as well: "To be engrossed by something outside ourselves is a powerful antidote for the rational mind, the mind that so frequently has its head up its own [rear] -- seeing things in such a narrow and darkly narcissistic way that it presents a colo-rectal theology, offering hope to no one."

Words of wisdom with an awesome dose of humor :)

Okay okay, on to what I've written recently. This is a segment that I think I might use in my YA short story because it's really the first thing I've written that I think has the voice of one of my characters down pretty solidly.

Does anyone ever really end up where they think they will after high school? Everyone lists in the yearbook what they're going to do with their lives, who they're going to be. Isn't that like repeating the question every kid gets asked? "What do you want to be when you grow up?"

The only difference being that there are fewer princesses and vets in a group of eighteen year-olds.

It's a stupid question to begin with. I mean, when you're little it's kind of cute to hear the kids that want to be firefighters or bus drivers but it's down-right idiotic to ask teenagers. We're not that cute anymore and besides, why are people asking us what we want to be when we don't even know who we are?

Week 7

Ah! I'm late! Good heavens, that's bad news right there. Anyway...

As the semester has rolled forth I have grown increasingly short on time for reading so this last week was restricted basically to books assigned for class (non-fiction and historical fiction) and the Middle Grade novel I read to report on (The Giver). I discovered, shockingly, that there are people that have never actually read The Giver or [as I found today] A Wrinkle in Time. Now, I understand not everyone has the same taste in books but there really are just some works of literature that everyone should read, these being two of them.

It was very useful to me to re-read The Giver in the context of our Middle Grade unit because I had more of an idea what things I should look for in determining if/why a book is "good." I generally have a hard time identifying specific aspects that makes for good writing so this practice was very beneficial.

I am currently reading When We Were Friends by Elizabeth Joy Arnold which is much more general fiction than YA but I'm more aware as I read of the character developments, the voice that is present in the story. I should dabble more in YA to get my head in the right spot probably but it's a great feeling to see this other layer of writing, no matter what I'm reading.

To preface my personal writing segment, I've been running into trouble when it comes to putting myself into the mindset I would have been in when I first began venturing into YA literature. Mostly because I have a habitually awful and spotty memory but also because I've never considered myself a very interesting specimen, finding it much easier to relate the stories and adventures of those I associated with during those years. Below is the most interesting thing I could remember happening to me in high school. Yes, it depresses me too. lol

Personal Writing!

The one thing I really got out of high school was a highly, possibly even over-developed, sense of justice and fairness which proved out in my most vocal outbursts, usually on the behalf of others [whether they wanted it or not]. My only detention in my public education career occurred one day in my junior year of high school when the brand new choir director was subbing for the band teacher. About a quarter of the way through class, I was excused for insubordination when I commented on how harsh and nit-picky she was being about a piece we had never played before that day. In an odd way, this one event showed me that, if I so desired, I had the power to start things because after I was ceremoniously dismissed to the shocked whispers of my classmates who knew all too well that I never got yelled at, let alone sent to detention, I was joined in first the principal's office and then the detention room but two of my classmates who had apparently spoken up in my defense and to affirm what I'd been saying upon dismissal.