Finishing Something

I do finish things. When I bake, I finish the recipe. I've finished a few scrapbooks. I almost alway finish reading books I start. And I've actually finished writing quite a few stories/books. However, no matter how many times I finish something, I still get SUPER excited when I finish something major. And today, I finished something major.

Don't Ever Change.

It's done.

I wrote the last bit today.

I hate writing endings. Mostly because I suck at them.

However, it is DONE.

Granted, I did not exactly write the ending I wrote many moons ago while sitting in a bathroom that had a toilet in it that wouldn't stop flushing. And I ended up doing something I hadn't planned on doing, but in the end, I'm happy with how it ended.

BUT I AM DONE...with Don't Ever Change. (Other than editing the hell out of it, but the rough draft is the hardest thing to get done.)

It's Research, Not Stalking...Honest

When I first began writing seriously (meaning past naming characters, putting them in designer clothing and making up some dialogue), I never did research. I sat in a cold, concrete floored room at the back of The Ditch and wrote what I knew.

Pages upon pages of what I knew.

Then, I began to make outlandish things up.

And I filled pages upon pages with words.

I never sat around thinking, "Hey, I don't know enough about that, I should look it up."

Granted, this was the day and age before the internet was in your hand at all times, but the Internet was a happening thing and I believe I sometimes ventured over to use it to research things whilst still in high school. I know I used it in college.

I hated the internet.

I'm honest. I hated with with a flaming passion because I could NEVER find what I wanted. Throughout college, I sat in the dusty library and did my research using books that sometimes hadn't seen the light of day since the sixties.

And I still wrote.

Still filled pages of notebook paper with words, still typed Word docs filled with stories and characters I grew to love.

But, never once did I research anything passed maybe looking up a meaning of a name I was unable to find within one of the numerous baby name books I own.

It never occurred to me that as a writer of works of fiction, I'd have to do research, have to do something similar to what I did when writing an essay for school.

Then, one day, my mother informed me I ought to "look something up" so it sounded like I knew what I was talking about. I do not remember WHAT she told me to look up, only she created a monster.

I am a research monster now.

I'm still not any good at it, the internet still fails ninety five percent of the time to tell me what I want it to tell me, but I research everything now. Hours of my life are wasted on various websites looking up random bits of information. I've spent time hunting down slang used in the Old West for ONE SENTENCE.  I've wasted time trying to find how a British person would say "crazy" in the twenties. I spent an hour trying to find out when the rollerball pen was invented and how widely used it was in the 1940s. I spent at least two days searching floor plans online till I finally gave up and made my own-- just so I could describe something better. I've lost track of how many time I've made sure the stupid pop culture reference I've made actually would be known by certain characters and are the right time period.

It's a lot of freaking work.

And that's just for the fan fiction I've been working on as if recent.

Last summer I spent days on end looking at school catalogues to get ideas for course to stick students in. I've wasted hours making sure the schedules I made for them actually worked. I've spent years trying to figure out what colleges some of my characters are going to attend, though I don't plan to actually write about them IN college. I've spent days staring at a map of Glasgow on a real estate site trying to find a flat. For a fictional character. (I did find one. Well, two. Then I merged them, as what I wanted doesn't actual exist.) I've scoured the internet for images of interiors so I'd have a good idea how to describe them. (One day just to find out they'd remodeled the building I was trying to write about so I really had to just use what was in my head. No one thought to take pictures of the fourth floor Adam Smith lecture hall before they redid it...)

Hours of my life were lost when I was working on HYRM and I got lost in a world of quotes. Quotes ate me alive for days on end.

Many of the clever things I come up with in my original works as well as my fan fics no one bothers to really take note of...it's like I always thought: no one notices. They are reading and enjoying the story-- not looking for symbolism, not looking for those little things.

Then, I got feedback when someone noticed the painstaking effort I put forth.

One of my stories follows two real people, who are quite famous. I went back to my roots in my fan fics and started writing about actual people instead of fictional ones. I had the idea in my head for awhile and it wanted out, so I let it out. Yeah, you might think it is rather teenybopper of me, and I think it is, but I like the two OCs I created and if I REALLY wanted to, I could change the names of the famous people, change the names of projects, etc and it'd be orignal. So, I guess you can say I'm just too lazy to change the inspiration. (10p technically started out as a fan fic, only I changed the main romantic interests name, then his profession, thus, it's not. See? No...that's fine.)

Anyways, I've become somewhat fixated with where these two people WERE. I don't care where they are right now, I care where they WERE. I get caught up in trying to figure it out, till I suddenly realize what I'm doing and I laugh.

I'd be worried if I hadn't done the same thing when I was writing some of my original works. Granted I cannot scurry the internet to figure out where my characters were located, but if you saw the pile of paper I carry around for RAB, you'd see I'm rather keen to know every detail.

It wasn't always like this. Once upon I time, I just made stuff up and called it a day.

(Except that one time when I was in high school and I drew a map of the town RAB takes place in just so I could name the street's D used to get from one end of town to another. I could have just made that up, but...I didn't. I made an entire map. On lots of paper. I still have it and use it too. Well, I did have it...I'm not sure where it got off to now that I think about it. Hopefully it survies the move.)

Vivid Imaginations Are Not Always Good

Those indeed are my feet. And they do not actually look that small in person. It's the camera angle and pointing my toes together. I took the photo myself with my iPhone. Because no one helps me photograph things in this family. (Hence why the last photos of me that were taken were at Christmas.)

In other news, I'm NOT dying!

(There was about an two hours this morning I assumed the worst, panicked and had to medicate myself. Pilot Boy, of course, abandoned me for the first time since we left AK, so clearly, I'm going to wind up dying in the hospital or something...or that was my thinking. Clearly, I'm not in a hospital or dying.)

Why am I excited about the whole not dying? Because I've been in very minor pain (read, most people would have completely ignored it, but I am me and I HATE pain) for a few days longer than I thought normal, so finally I dragged myself in a mild panic to the phone to make an appointment. Last time I had similar pains, I wound up in the hospital for four days and had some guy cut me open and remove my appendix. And that wasn't the worst thing that happened whilst I was there. But, that is not a story y'all want to hear. Trust me.

Anyways, after suffering a panic attack, I downed those one of those little happy pills I picked up in Alaska for moving and felt...a weird combination of calm and panicked. To came in waves. I'd panic, then clam down and feel sleepy. Then I'd panic again. It was an annoying cycle till I had to leave.

When I first got the pills, due to the fact I read the warnings, I refused to operate a car whilst on them. However, seeing as Pilot Boy flew the coop, I had no choice but to drive myself and seeing I'd taken a pill on Sunday (I was thinking the pain was part of an upcoming panic attack, which I was having due to the prospect of being out in the sun for hours around hoards of people--which wound up not happening because Pilot Boy can't read the date on his iPhone correctly and the air show/car show wasn't going on when we got there) and managed to watch Iron Man 3 and pick up on things Pilot Boy failed to notice, I was like, "I can drive!"

So, I did.

It wasn't really until I actually got into the clinic did I become super loopy.

First, I went the wrong way to Flight Med. Luckily a nurse pointed me in the right way. (I might have scared her with my huge smile and cheery thank you while looking like death warmed over-- which I look like usually, as I am the palest thing in Texas. And I was super pale today, as I forwent my usual makeup in fear of being shoved into the hospital.) After going back the way I came passed the coffee bar (yeah, the clinic's got a Starbucks), I arrive at the correct place and handed my ID over and waited for the paper work.

"You can sit down," the woman said, handing my ID back to me.

I stared at her, cocked my head and sat down.

Without any paperwork.

I sat with some babies who were getting shots till they called my name.

Fifteen minutes early. (I was super early because I thought it'd take me longer to get there and I knew I'd get lost. I still refuse to use the highways here unless I have to. So, sometimes I wind up somewhere I've never been before.)

I wandered after the nurse to the exam room, sat down and began to laugh. I was also shaking, twitching and just all around acting strange. I quickly explained my issues and added the fact I'd taken some anxiety pills that morning.

She knew which one I had taken and I hadn't needed to drag the bottle out to tell her.

In fact, she knew everything about me from the past five years. (Medical wise, she failed to know that I sit around writing, making up my own words, and singing songs about my dog.)

The computer worked. My records had transfered.

I kind of died of shock at this point. In the past five years since I "joined" this whole military thing, no one has ever known anything when I've gone to the doctor because the computer never works and my chart never says anything past my name (though something they don't even know that and call me Pilot Boy). Hence why I simply gave up trying to solve my allergy issues whilst in Alaska because the last doctor they'd shoved me off on used GOOGLE to look up what drugs to put me on. GOOGLE. I use GOOGLE to figure out what drugs I want to take. (Well, when I research that type of thing, which was once. Google failed me, so I began asking people I knew who were on the same thing. It yielded better results.)

But today, they knew EVERYTHING. They had all my blood pressures, all my medications (they frowned as it'd clearly not been updated in some respects. There were a few things I'm not on any longer that were still on there as if I were taking them) and basically everything I'd ever written a million times on that damn paper they always hand me first thing!

It was so shocking I almost passed out.

The best thing, though, I got a prescription for Zyrtec. I could write odes to that pretty little pill that allows me to kind of breath and not die from the fact Russia likes to live in my head right between my eyes.

Anyways, the pain I was in there for turned out to be strained muscles from over zealous Pilaties crunching. So, no core working out for four to six weeks. BAH. Just as I was getting back into it. At least I'm not dying, they do not have to cut me up to drag something out of there or give me another vile cat-scan. (You do not want to know.)

Moral of the story: for the first time ever, I'm actually somewhat impressed with the medical wing. They had their stuff together. Or I happened to catch them on a good day. I only was at the pharmacy for maybe a half hour-- if that. I didn't pay attention. I was reading and coming down off my panic high. (Trust me, I'm feeling it now...and this one was bad...I haven't ached like this since I got the happy pills. I can't imagine what state I'd been in without the meds....eek.)

In other news that has nothing to do with my health, I finished book four of my Potter series. I also began posting my newest obsession. Links to all can be found under the tab with a list of all my stories. I'm trying to get my act together and get something posted on Wattpad-- something original. I was thinking of posting Elle, but I think she needs some more editing. Mostly because when I looked, I couldn't figure if I'd put the edits in or not. Or if I had been in the process of editing it on my Kindle. Basically, I got confused. Not unheard of.

Well, I have one last read through on the next part of the New Obession. Since I posted one this AM, I figured I'd post this in the PM. Get more readers in the afternoon than morning.

Laterdays.

Still Kicking Around

I missed my birthday post. Oops.

I'm 29. I don't remember much about being 19, other than I was in college. I liked college.

The lack of posting is partly due to writing/editing/communing with voices in my head. This is what happens when I have a spurt of creativeness and it eats me alive.

At least I'm getting feedback and people are reading my current project. It's a large undertaking that I will see through. It might take me fifteen years, but I will complete it. I WILL. Mostly because I have been PLANNING.

I know. Odd. Me, planning. Run for the hills.

But, I have EVERYTHING planned out.

And then I realize I am writing...fan fiction...and want to bang my head into the table a few times. But it is so much FUN. Honestly.

Only, I've hit a road block in flushing out the middle of my second story. I have the beginning written and the end. (I have the end of every story I plan to write written for the most part except for six and seven. I know, I know...I'm getting ahead of myself. Especially since I keep CHANGING things.) But I finished the first story and felt so accomplished and had no one to tell, so I'm telling you.

Yeah. You.

Also, I have no idea where I came up with that pen name. Honestly. I should have stuck to my first pen name, but I decided I would keep it separate for...my orignal works that do not start other people's characters so blatantly.

So...that is what I've been up to. Just so you know.

I Do Believe in Commas, I do!!!!! I do!!!!!

I have no idea when I discovered The Shoebox Project, or how. I don't actually read what it is: Fan Fiction. I don't look for it, I don't really write it any longer and at the time I read that I was definitely passed the stage of fan fiction. In high school, I was massively into boy band fan fiction, which I don't remember how I discovered either. But, if I want to be honest-- fan fiction is what REALLY got me started writing, creating stories and getting interested in writing honest romance instead of whatever the hell I'd been writing before this point in time. I learned quite a bit from the fan fiction I did read. I was REALLY picky on what I'd read too. I had one site that I liked and I only branched out of things this author suggested.

Then she went to college and my life exploded around me, and I stopped reading and writing fan fiction. I also started listening to Eminem and Limp Bizkit.

At some point, freshman year of college, I read some sort of fan fiction about Trigun. I remember I read it covertly over winter break, because I couldn't get a minute alone, so I pretended to go to bed-- then stayed up till all hours reading on my computer, silently giggling.

Freshman year, I also read fan fiction written by my friend C. It was Buffy based and introduced me to a whole new kind of fan fiction. What do I mean by this? Well, up till this point in time, all the things I'd ever read were independent stories. (Which with bands, is easy, as there is no actual story line, with a TV show, there's a story.) Anyways, she created a new character and worked her into the actual episodes of the TV show, which was utterly fascinating to me.

Then I started writing fan fiction again, as I created my own Buffy verse story, working my characters into a few episodes. I was all over the place with the whole thing and never really knew what I was doing, but it gave me something to do for two years till I lost interest.

I read Shoebox after I got married. And I honestly have no clue how I discovered it. I think one of my livejournal friends must have been reading it or something and one day when I was bored, I stumbled upon it. All I remember is: I read it at work.

Yeah, you read that right.

By the time I found it, all the Harry Potter books were out and I could tell by the dates, updates were beginning to get to be few and far between, because like all fan fiction writers, it seemed that life got in the way. I think after I found it, the authors might have updated twice.

Then the account was hacked while I was in Del Rio.

I thought the world was going to end, because I adored the story. To the point, I took their created story as the back story to the actual Harry Potter novels.

Luckily, someone had either saved the posts or something, as they are still online in PDF form. After the account was hacked though, it'd been almost a year since the last update and I knew one thing: it was over. One of the authors was now published. She's even appeared on the CBS morning show, I guess. (She's got a few more books out now, I guess. I don't know. I didn't look in it before I began writing.)

I don't know what got me really thinking about Shoebox again. I think it was something I saw on Pinterest when I was scrolling through for images for whatever I'm working on right now. Something...reminded me of it. So, I went looking for it and found it was not in e-book format. So, of course I downloaded it and put it on my Kindle. And spent the past two days reading it.

It's freaking long. It's actually longer than Summer Story, which I thought was the longest things in the world (after those classic books that wax on for pages about moor and rainfall).

But, I just finished it and feel that ache again, so familiar. I want more, if not just to get to the point where JK really starts telling the story of James, Lily, Sirius, Lupin and Wormtail.

While the e-book itself is littered with errors (like many e-books tragically are...I guess they are hard to format?), the storyline is still good. And while my Kindle isn't the best thing for images, I still got that same anticipation and envy I get when I read something brillant. (It's why I read, actually.) Did it give me the urge to create fan fiction?

No, not really. But, it did renew my want to create something brilliant. I've been in this sinkhole for the past two weeks. (Writing Alexis's stories tends to do this to me because I hate her.) So, I haven't been writing very much during the day. I've watched the entire series of Star Trek: Voyager. This is only okay because 1) I've never watched it totally in order and 2) I never saw how they got home.

Of course time travel was involved. Of course the Borg were involved.

I've watched Fortysomething, which amused me to no end. I was honestly surprised I liked it, if I'm honest with you as I don't usually like that sort of thing.

I've read a few books, one of them twice. (My Life Next Door, check it out. Brilliant.)

I've spent way too many hours on Pinterest. Which lead me back to Shoebox, with it's made up words, air filled with exclamation marks and characters that we all know the names of, but don't really know before the Major Events of the actual Harry Potter series. Personally, I think the two authors of Shoebox (I keep typing Showbox for some reason) do a brilliant job at creating believable characters that end up as they do. (Granted, we only really get to know three of them at all, as two are all ready dead at the start of Harry Potter.) But, it's easy to see Lupin winding up as he does, doing what he does, seeing things as he does. I think they do a brilliant job hinting at why Peter turned. And it's so easy to see Sirius...well, being Sirius. (Full disclosure: Sirius and Lupin are my two favorite characters and when JK killed THEM BOTH OFF, I almost had a conniption.)

So, if you have some time to kill, enjoy Harry Potter, give it a shot. It being Shoebox.

More Adventures in Writing with Ireland

It hasn't snowed for almost a month, but today it's snowing. Or trying to....

I haven't updated lately because I've been eaten a live by a rewrite. It's finally spit me back out and I hit a huge wall. So, I'll update this blog.

I love rewrites. For a wide array of reasons.

1. You all ready have the bones to the story laid out in a nice fashion. When you're re-writing something, all you need to do is rearrange things, rework, or expand on what you have all ready labored over.

2. You get to revisit your characters. The thing I just finished rewriting I've had living in my head since I was fifteen. I didn't start writing it in a story form till I was sixteen. But, I remember naming all the characters on summer day on the couch. They then all went into a play that was never performed. But, through writing this play (based on real events, with real people re-named), I fell in love with who the characters had become in my head. So, one day at lunch, I got out a piece of paper and went to work. And RAB was born. I did my first overhaul on RAB when I was twenty one. I tried many things when I set about rewriting it. I tried to tell it in present tense, tried telling it in third person, but I went back to first person, past tense. It stayed that way till this last rewrite. I re-read it and thought, "OMG, this is boring." So, I reworked it, rewrote it and took it back to what it was when I was sixteen. G finally was able to be who I knew she was and I think it showed better in her story.

3. New plot points scare you to death. I know you might not believe me, but every time I rewrite something, something new pops out at me, usually freaking me out or scaring me to death. I think, "SERIOUSLY! Why didn't I see this before!" And I get super excited and everything comes together in my head and it is brilliant. The first time I did a major overhaul of RAB, a story arch appeared to me and I was able to hone it. Granted, it was with a character who wasn't a main character, he has a supporting role, but I realized as I went through I was able to litter hints and clues to who this guy really was. I love doing this. It happened again when I sat down to do this rewrite. Because I knew something now that I didn't know the last time I looked at the story, I was able to litter in clues, then out of nowhere, a whole scene appeared. It shocked me, but it had to be written and put in there.

I love rewriting. I itch to rewrite things sometimes. Sometimes, I look at something and think, "WOW! This is bloody brilliant!" And other times, I look at it and think, "What was I thinking?"

Summer Story has this happen to it. I've lost track of the times I read it and thought, "This is brilliant!" Then, the last time I read through it I thought, "I want to rewrite this. It's got potential."

10p was that way for over a year. I kept rewriting it till I finally got to the point it's at right now. The last time I read it, while I found minor errors, I still liked it. It was still a good story and I thought it was still tightly told. Summer Story is in some need of some serious editing, yet I know I can't figure out what to cut. When I re-wrote 10p the last time, I know it's too long to be YA, but I'm not sure what I can cut. It's amazing when I realize what I can cut. RAB's stories (there are four in all) were all too short to be full length novels. I know, shocking on many levels as I am very, very, very long winded. After this last rewrite, only one is boarding on too short. And that one has always had this problem. Mostly because I hate the character telling the story. (Which makes it kind of fun to write and not at the same time.)

But, I've finished writing RAB. It's in stage two editing, ready for BETA reading.

What I Found On The Floor

I discovered Harry Potter on the floor of my room.

Read that statement a few times. I'll wait.

So? I bet you're wondering what Harry Potter was doing on my floor, right? I'll tell you: waiting to be wrapped.

Freshman year saw the second year I wrapped the family gifts. In the box my mom had left on my floor, I found Harry Potter. I took it out of the box, saw the note and looked at it curiously. For one, my mom was under the delusion my brother was going to read a book. Second, it looked interesting to me. At the time, I was a rather big fan of fantasy stories, having just polished off every single Tamora Price book I could get my hands on. I opened the book and read the flap.

After reading the flap, I read the first chapter. (Yes, I read the first chapter of a book not meant for me, but my brother. I doubt he actually read the first chapter, as evident by his later "book reports" he did for school.)

After polishing off the first chapter, I wrapped the book. I figured my brother wouldn't read it. I was proven right a few days later, which upon opening the book, he looked at it as if he'd opened up a rancid package of meat. Tossing the book aside, he moved onto bigger and better things.

That night, I took the book. And devoured it.

My first time reading it, I don't remember how carefully I read it. I do remember my mother telling me that the next book was coming out shortly.

I didn't read book two till after book three came out, as that was when Harry Potter reappeared in our house. The summer after book three came out, my mom (or dad, I'm not sure who) ordered them for me. I read them that summer, eating them up as if they were chocolate.

I was in love with Harry Potter. I recognized the brilliant writing. The way Rowling wove the story amazed me. Granted, I didn't appreciate this until I started re-reading things, which I did not begin to do till I was a senior and bored out of my mind during study hall. At first, I just re-read the first book, as the movie was coming out and I wanted the story fresh in my head. This was the first time I began putting pieces together. But the time I finished my second reading of the first four books, I was amazed at how tightly the story was wound together. And I still had three more books to get through.

But, I was in awe. I wanted to be Rowling. I wanted to write like her, layer hints in, layer in symbolism and construct a web as she has done within the Harry Potter universe.

I also learned the value of the re-read. I plow through  books so quickly the first time I read them, I miss things. I blow over major things in order to get to the end. I am not patient while reading. This is why sometimes I find books boring. Once I know how it'll end, my reading usually goes better.

As the last three books of the Harry Potter series were rolled out over the next five years of my life, I gobbled them up as soon as they arrived in my house, sometimes against the wishes of my parents. For instance, once while I was left home alone shortly after Half Blood Prince showed up, I was supposed to be cleaning my room while my parents were off doing something that invovled socializing with relatives. Getting a jump start on being a hermit, I remained home. With the Harry Potter book, which called to me: READ ME! READ ME!

I had been advised not to read the book. We were going to vacation soon and my mom told me I ought to have books to read while sitting in a cabin in Tennessee.

I didn't listen. I read Harry Potter and the Half Blood Prince. In the day my parents were away when I should have been cleaning my room.

I don't think I told them I had read it. I re-read it when I should have been reading it the first time. The only good this really did in the end, my dad was able to slowly read it while we were on vacation. (He reads Harry Potter super slow, so not to miss things. I just read them millions of times over.)

By the time the last book came out, I had graduated from college. I only remember I had graduated, because the weekend the book showed up, Pilot Boy was in my life, as the weekend I read the book, he was BORED. I had to read it and Pilot Boy doesn't read. Or know how to entertain himself while I read. (He still hasn't figured this out.)

My favorite books are three and six. I'm super proud of myself, because I guess correctly who RAB was. After I saw that at the end of Half Blood Prince, I was like, "I KNOW WHO THAT IS!" I picked up on the hint, right away. I felt wonderful when I read the last book and was proven correct.

Since the last book came out, I have re-read the whole series at least three or four times. While I was working in St. Louis, I read the series twice through while riding the train downtown. (When I had to tote around book four and book five, my shoulder hated me.) My books are worn, beat up, and spotted with stains. They are well loved and they are British.

Yes, we had two sets of books in our house: American and British. As a freshman, I decided I wanted the British versions. My aunt and uncle got the box set of the first four for me, then added on the others. Are the British ones different than the American ones? Yeah, actually. The first three are very different, due to the fact they use all the British slang that was taken out to make it understandable to Americans. By the fourth or fifth book, they stopped. But, I love the British ones because they are British, so they use British punctuation and spelling. I'm weird.

When I was thinking about books that have impacted my writing, I knew I had to cover Harry Potter. And I knew I had to start with how I found Harry on the bedroom floor.

First "Real" Book

I didn't learn to read till I was in fourth grade. And by "read" I mean, read at the level I ought to be at. I didn't comprehend the object of reading. I memorized most of the things I should have been "reading." I did not read chapter books. Or books without pictures. Ten year old Ireland wanted to read picture books. Ten year old Ireland should have been reading chapter books. I didn't read for enjoyment either. I checked out the same kindergarten level books from the library I'd been checking you since I started going to school (or so my mother tells me).

In fourth grade, my parents sent me off to get help.  I figured out that reading could be fun. So, I began reading.

And have yet to stop.
The first "real" book I read on my own with out prompting was called Nobodies and Somebodies. I assume this book was bought by my mother at the book fair or something. I have no clue where I got the book. I do remember reading it. Multiple times. I love this book. It's got almost all of my favorite subjects. And, when I read it, it had all my favorite topics. What were these:

1. Popularity.
2. Friendship.

That is what this book is about.

The book also began my life long love affair with alternating viewpoints. I'm a sucker for the following things in books:

1. Alternating viewpoints
2. Famous people
3. International travel
4. Books set in London/UK/Ireland/Scotland

Nobodies and Somebodies has only one of those things, but when I was ten (or eleven), those things didn't fascinate me as they do now. However, clubs did. When I was growing up, forming a club was a big deal and sometimes I dreamed about. I was usually the kid that was excluded from the clubs kids at school formed, even though I knew the kids who were in this club and they were "friends." It frustrated me to no end, but because I am kind of lackadaisical about things, I didn't do anything.

But, I still dreamed about being the popular girl, the one with all the clothes, the one who was forming clubs. So, this book spoke to me.

This book has three characters telling the story: Laura, Janet, and Vero. Laura's the new girl (another thing that peeked my interest as a kid, I was never the new girl), Janet was the girl who wore thick glasses and befriended Laura right away and Vero was part of the trio of "popular" girls, aka the Somebodies. Laura is completely fascinated by the Somebodies, who all sit on a window ledge in the classroom each morning. They also have a spot on the playground that is just for them. Laura wants to be one of them. But, Janet tells her this is a bad idea, as Janet thought she had made it in the club, only to be replaced by new girl Vero, who was cooler.

Snubbed by the Somebodies, Janet rebels as Laura gets sucked in deeper into trying to impress the group, by forming a club called the Nobodies.  She invites everyone (save Laura and the three Somebodies) to join the group. And hijinks insure.

This book, while rather simplistic when I re-read it the last time (when I was in college or just graduated, I don't remember) was still the foundation of my interest in writing. I loved the story so much, I wanted to recreate it on my own level. I began writing in earnest at this point in time and my stories basically kept the themes of this book. And they were told from different point of views. I like getting different viewpoints and I love writing from different viewpoints.

The first complete story I wrote when I was in eighth grade was inspired by this book. It was the first story I wrote that was written correctly and clearly and had a plot. It also had a beginning, middle and end. It was told by two characters (Asia and Deja). Asia was short and not very pretty, but the popular girl. Deja was the pretty one but wasn't popular. There was cheerleading involved. The story ended with a battle between Deja and Asia, where Asia finally embraced her nerd side and admitted she hated being pouplar and was happy to just be with her friends. Not the best story, but it was a start.

RAB deals with a lot of the same themes that Nobodies and Somebodies did as well. Granted, the characters in NAS are in fifth or fourth grade and RAB's characters are all in high school, but they are rather similar. I can see a lot of Vero in G, A is rather a lot like Laura, while T is kind of like Janet. Or not. I don't know, I never really liked Janet.

I have no idea where the copy of Nobodies and Somebodies went. Last I saw it, it was in my room on the bookshelf above my desk. Upon moving out, I don't think I took it with me. Or it had gone MIA. I don't have it here with me (unless its in that missing box of books I swear I have). I know it's no longer in my old room at home, as most of my belongings have been cleared out of there. I've got no clue where the book that set me on the path I'm on right now is. Tragic. I think I'll order a new copy.

Writing Updates

I'm writing this to update the following:

1. My writing (as in novels)
2. My writing and entry for this blog that Blogger lost.

We will deal with two first.

I wrote a nice, long, detailed entry about my trip to Florida in January. It had pictures! It had links! It had funny stories!

Then it wouldn't publish. It was stuck. I SAVED THE ENTRY multiple times throughout the construction and before I put the pictures in. So, while I was sad I'd loose the pictures, I was like, whatever. So, I hit the back button.

Blogger saved THE FIRST SENTENCE. And the tags I added AFTER I PUT THE PICTURES IN.

I've been mad at Blogger for awhile now. My brother suggested I try Wordpress, so I did. Only, I don't know how to get y'all over there easily and still follow through Google, so here I am still.

Now, onto the first one.

Writing.

I do it. Daily. Often. Constantly.

This doesn't mean I have much to show for it. And by show for it, finished novels in order for people to actually read. Nor do I have readers. I have maybe three. My friend A read two things for me and got her comments back to me. I'm on the right track. A friend of my brothers has Summer Story. haven't heard a peep from her, but brother assures me it's covered in red (editing, suggestions...I quiver with excitement. Have been. For months. I am serious.) My other friend (S), is slowly getting back to me on 10p. Last time she gave me her feelings on the story, the story were heading in the right direction. She was feeling what she ought to towards the characters. Twas all good.

But I feel like I need more before I start querying myself around. I feel like 10p is ready to go. (And by go, I don't think it has any huge plot holes.) But I don't want to start doing anything till I get it back from S.

And I'm not in a rush. Other than my husband gave me a year deadline. (Well, it's a bit longer. I have till our next move.) And what is this deadline? I have to get a job. He doesn't care what it is, but I have to get a job that pays. (He doesn't think my selling purses is a job, though he did send me to a leather store...he wants me to break into leather. I think he's insane, but we all ready know he is nuts.) My current job (as a writer) doesn't pay me diddle squat. I just spend hours upon hours at it and have no $$$ to show. $$$ is important to Pilot Boy. And to me, insomuch I'd like some money.

So, now what?

I have several open ended projects. I get stuck and just stop writing. I banged out a bunch of EH stories and DM stories then got stuck on their final ones (well, I only started EH, haven't even touched DM.)

The 10p series is at a stand still. The last two stories of that series I don't know where I am going with them. They have a strong start though. I'm really bad at outlining and planning out. I just kind of sit down and start. And hope for the best. I know this is not the best way to go around constructing a story, but I'm honestly better at this than you think. And by that I mean, I do finish novels. I do finish them and I do have some vague sense of what I want to get to in the end. I have beginnings and endings in mind, just no middles. I know where DM and EH is going to end. I know this, I just don't know how to get them there in a manner that is a novel length long book. (DM has this issue more so than EH, not sure why, but E is much longer winded than D...) With the Four Girls series, I have the start of their series banged out, completed and ready to read. I'm missing Book Two, Three and Book Five. I have Book Four completed. And I have the ending of Book Five, plus bits and pieces. Only, I have changed up relationships and characters in re-writing things. I also don't know if I even want to write Book Three, or if I just want to glaze over all that and just use flashbacks in the next book to go over it. Mostly because the characters all all over the place (two in Scotland, one in France, on in Wisconsin.) Also, I only have ONE of the character's story lines for that book worked out in any sense.

But onto what I am currently working on while the other stuff sits around...

I am rewriting RAB for the third time. Why? Because it's weak in the current form it's in. I tragically discovered during my failed attempts to get my family to read it G wasn't likable. Or she had no purpose. No drive. Basically, G is/was me. So of course she has no direction, no drive, or desires. At her age, I had none. (Other than having better hair and clothes.) Also, in trying to insert romance into her story in my last rewrite, she ventured very far off her original track. After having A read it (she said it was cute, not her cup of tea and she felt that Greta ought to wrap things up, as I combined G's and AK's stories together as alone they weren't LONG enough...go figure), I felt that I needed to go back to the start with G. With all of them, actually. I got bored reading the new versions, something that hasn't happened ever with RAB. So, I tried to find the orignal version (before I changed up to make it more interesting) and rewrote it. I took out the romance in G's story, kept it as it originally was and focused more on the fact G simply wants to be around people who like her for who she is, as her main issue in life is that she is G and people like her only for her name. (This is an ongoing theme for the poor girl, as she deals with it again in her second book.)

It took me forever to rewrite G's story for one reason: Pilot Boy.

He is a pest. He's worst than the dog sometimes with bothering me, interrupting me, and demanding my attention like a three year old. (I love him, still, but seriously.) I try to write while he's at work, but he's on an assignment where he's 'bored" all the time. Till I put my foot down and he gave me a year to do whatever, I couldn't actually type out a whole scene without him texting me, calling me, messaging me in some form. I used to be able to multitask, but as I've gotten older, when I am in the writing zone, I find it's best if I just STAY THERE. Then it all pours out before I forget. (A concept Pilot boy has issue with.)

Finally, we came up with the Blue Light. The blue light is this stupid light I got from IKEA when I was in high school because I thought it was cute. How can I light be cute? Well, it's got feet. And looks kind of like a cartoon character of a light bulb. I had it throughout college in my dorm room. I hardly ever turn it on because it's kind of stupid and gets really freaking hot. Since we moved to Anchorage, it's lived on the desk. So, after having a small battle one evening after Pilot Boy came home, he said, "FINE! If this blue light is on, I will leave you alone!"

I turned it on right away.

Well, the blue light is on, so I'm going to go write some more before dinner. Get a few more scenes banged out.

The World Turns, I Get Older

Last year, I kind of freaked out about turning 27. And by freaked out, I spent the whole day feeling old and...unaccomplished. Or I guess disillusioned would be a better word.

Well, I'm 28. And...I'm pretty much in the same spot I was last year. Only, I have more hair. And five pounds around my middle. (It comes with getting old, or so I am told every time I complain about it.) We also have more snow on the ground than we did a year ago. And I didn't shovel it. Unlike last year, when I went outside in a thin sweater and shoved the driveway without gloves. I whined this morning I can't find my gloves, so I can't do it.

Like last year, I am thinking about ten years ago. Why? Because I remember being 18, just as I remember being 17. When I turned 17, I honestly didn't remember being 7, as I don't remember much about being 8. Other than I had long hair. Useful, I know.

Anyways, when I turned 18, the following happened:

1. Monsters Inc came out. It was the ONLY thing I wanted to do for my birthday. Really, I want to go see a movie? On opening night? That's a cartoon, fine. It was all I wanted. I didn't get it. Due to teenage drama, the showing I wanted was sold out. So, I didn't see the movie till the following weekend and I was cranky. Because...of teenage drama. Today is Wednesday. No movies come out today I want to see. I have no desire to see movies. Because...I am old. And I am a hermit, so I'd rather stay in my house and use Netflix.
2. My best friend gave me a SUPER SIZED Hersey's bar. Seriously, it was like two pounds of Hersey's bar. And I kept it under my bed. Why? Because that is where I kept junk food when I was 18: under my bed. Gross, I know. Now days, at 28, I keep plastic bins, suitcases and boxes of junk that never got unpacked because it should have been left in Del Rio. (The Hersey's bar remained under the bed till the spring when my mother was like, WILL YOU DO SOMETHING WITH THAT?! So I made cookies. Or something. I don't remember. I just remember it was under my bed for the longest time and I was honesty tired of chocolate by the time I finally smashed it up to make cookies.)
3. I got my blue book back. Which I am currently staring at. Because a few months ago I had my mother send it to me along with all my other journals. I was a writing fiend as a teenager, especially at 18. I don't keep one now. I tried, but, I'm so boring and...not filled with teenage angst. I find keeping this blog hard enough.
4. I remember what I wore that day. And the fact I spent three hours curling my hair into tiny, tiny cork screw curls. The very ones one of the teachers asked me, with a look of awe on her face, "How long did that take you?" It took three hours and by the end of the day, my head hurt from the tug of the ponytail I wore my hair in with the complicated rolls I wore on top of my head. It was a very complicated style and I only wore it twice in my life. It was a total pain. And actually, kind of looked stupid.
5. I had never been in love. I thought I was in love at 18, but I really wasn't. I read a book last night that described falling in love perfectly. (Well a few, but this book really resonated with me, I'm not sure why, but I'm going with it.) You fall. You do not think about it. I just happens and requires no thought or doubt. At 18, I was filled with thoughts and doubts (I have five volumes of journals telling me so much). At 28, I just know. The first time I fell in love, I just knew. It wasn't dramatic. It was the simplest thing in the world. (The falling part, after that, not so simple.) At 18, I felt no relief, only angst and drama. I worried. I was paranoid. I listened to songs and the more angsty the lyrics, the more dark, more drama...the better. I...don't do that any more. I don't see relationship with Pilot Boy in angst-ridden, dark, dramatic songs. Now, I just see CHARACTERS that are in my head in songs I like. Seriously. I no longer have songs, my characters have songs. Stories get songs. My life, not so much.
6. Point six is mixed in with point five.
7. 18 was the first birthday I viewed as a total disaster that I remember. I honestly don't remember turning 15, 16, 17 or anything before that. Those just happened. 18 is the first birthday that burned itself into my mind and refused to let go. And until I turned 21, I had horrible birthdays. They were just...horrific. I always had a horrible day, there was always some sort of drama that unfolded that left me feeling like total shit by the end of the day. When I turned 21...nothing happened. I am serious. I was also deliriously happy, but on the actual day of my birthday, honestly nothing happened. Well, things happened, but nothing that happened due to the fact I was turning 21. I got up late, missed my first lecture, walked to my room in the early morning cold, changed for lunch and then just went about my day till I returned to my room on a hill and fell face first into my bed and fell asleep for an hour. I then woke up, made a Chinese instant meal, ate it in my freezing cold room, was dragged to a party downstairs for like five minutes and then fell asleep. It was...the best day ever. It was the day I fell in love with Glasgow. From that day forward, Glasgow was the best place on earth as far as I was concerned. So much so, I still write love stories about it. And...it's Glasgow.
8. I have something in common with my 18 year old self, though. At 18, I still thought, deep down, I'd be a writer some day. I was beginning to give up this goal, as I had realized sophomore year there was no money in it and I wanted lots of money, but I didn't really give up the writing dream till much later on in my life. And I didn't pick it up till roughly a year or so ago. And since then, I've been working. While Pilot Boy might not think I am "working" I think I am working. I might not be getting paid at the moment, but I write, edit and revise daily. I read for research. Hell, I do research. I never did that before. I just wrote. I thought writing was just about writing the story. I always wrote what I knew, but even doing that...research is needed. I have spent the past year researching colleges, cities, staring at maps of Glasgow, London, Dublin and Chicago. I research names, last names, first names, middle names, back stories, houses, floor plans, and meanings of words in dead languages that no one knows how to speak. I draw maps, I look at maps, and I create entire universes in my head. I spent a whole day figuring out the Scottish schooling system and then another four hours making a freaking class schedule for a character. I spend time scouring the internet for snip its of Scottish/English/Irish/French/Southern American/Etc in order to be able to write out what I hear. I read books I would never read in the name of research. My 18 old self...read Harry Potter.
9. I didn't feel any different when I turned 18. I was an "adult" and yet I did not feel very adult like. I honestly felt like I was not old enough to do the things that 18 year old kids are allowed to do. I didn't think I was old enough to be voting in elections and I had no desire for cigarettes or any of the other things 18 year old kids can buy. I still don't honestly feel like I am old enough to do some things. Something happens after you turn 25, though. You forget how old you are. I walked around this past year, when I was 27, thinking I was 28. Pilot Boy tried to convince me the other day he was only 25 and I was 26. I had to actually do the math to figure out how old I was. And was really confused to find out I was 27. I did the math like five times. At least, this year, while thinking I am 28, I'll actually be 28.
10. 18 year old me burned herself with the curling iron. Often. 28 year old me burns myself, but not usually with the curling iron, as I don't use one as much as I used to. I do, though, usually burn my fingers because I refuse to wear that stupid heat proof gloves that came with the rod thing I bought and use because it makes the most natural looking curls. No, 28 year old me (who was 27 when most of these things happened) just burns herself on the oven, the stove, and the iron. And sometimes the hair dryer. But not as bad as when I was 15 and I dropped it on the back of my neck. I used to balance it in a tissue box over the side of my dresser and then sit under it and blow dry my hair straight and flat. (This was before I knew what a straightening iron was.) One day, the blow dryer fill, right on my neck when I had my head bowed to dry the back of my head. (This was the year of the mushroom hair cut, so I had short hair.) Least to say, I had an ugly red mark on the back of my neck that looked alarmingly like a hickey. And I had no boyfriend to give it to me. I had to go to church and everyone saw it, as I didn't know it was there till I got to church. No one believed I had burned myself either, as it was on the back of my neck. How do you drop a hair dryer there? I had no clue why no one believed me, either, as I thought it was rather well known I had no boyfriend.

Well, there. My birthday entry. Today has nothing speical in store. Other than some eating. I ought to eat lunch today before three pm. Which was when I ate yesterday. Because I forgot. 18 year old me always ate lunch at 10.30 am. As I had fourth hour lunch. 28 year old Ireland, has no lunch time. Sometimes she forgets to eat lunch.

I'm a Reading Machine, Hear Me Read

I just finished mowing the lawn. For the last time....this year. I hope. It was finally sunny. I ought to have gone out and mowed it...last weekend. Buuuuuuutttttttttt, I didn't. I stayed in and read. Which I've done. Daily. For. The last...month? I'm lame.

Books I've read in the past month:

The Circle of Magic (Sandry's, Deja's, Tris's, and Briar's book. There are four books and I read at least two of them (Sandry's and Tris's) when I was 14. The summer before I started high school, I think. I might have read Deja's book, I don't remember. I never read Brair's book. Anyways, I re-read or read them all finally, as they appeared one day on my Kindle search for Tamora Pierce. I was like WHOOOO. They are brilliant as usual. I fell in love with Brair. I didn't like him too well the first time I read the books, Tris being my favorite character, but this round, I found Brair fascinating.)

The Circle Opens(Another four books that have titles. But I am lazy. I don't feel like looking them up. I just mowed the lawn and feel like death. Anyways, I read them in order. I think. I started out with Sandry, who was the only one who remained in the town where they'd all been brought together in the first place. In the series, each new Mage gets a student. And none of them really want a student. Sandry and Deja kind of suck as teachers and are the ones who are least inclined with their students. Briar isn't inclined, but he winds up being the best teacher. And it is not because I am bias that I say this. He's the one who quickly accepts his role and embraces it. However, I can tell from reading about 14 year old Brair, he's going to be trouble as he gets older. And enjoys it. Tris's book, though, was my all time favorite out of the four. I liked her student quite a bit and I liked witnessing the changes in Tris.)

The Will of the Empress. (Totally a GREAT book to wrap up the whole Circle series. I know there's another one, but it doesn't feature Sandry, Deja, Tris or most importantly Brair, so I've not read it yet. Anyways, this book starts after the four have been apart for years upon years and have grown apart. They've cut themselves off from one another and then travel into hostile territory. Throughout the book, they finally manage to open themselves up to one another though, so it ends well. Well, for some of them. And I was right about Brair. That is proven in this book. And while it is perfectly understandable, it kind of annoys me. But I KNOW THERE IS A REASON, so I know it shouldn't annoy me. Not everyone can be as I WANT THEM.)

Faking It. (And ADULT BOOK. And by that I mean, it's aimed at Adult like people who want a romantic, introspective book to look at. Or read. It was pretty good...I was slightly frustrated after making one care so much about the two main character they never "got together." Oops, spoiler.)

Getting Caught. (This was okay. I liked that it was mostly about two former friends, who due to lack of communication started pranking one another. And hated one another for basically teh same reason, even though neither had done what the other hated the other for. Typical teenager. Cute. Not the best Mandy Hubbard, but she did write it with another person. So far, RIPPLE is the BEST Mandy Hubbard book. It was even better than But I Love Him.)

Beautiful Disaster. (I had low hopes for this book, after skimming the reviews. I was mostly interested it because it was about COLLEGE people. College Freshman. I haven't seen many books about college aged people, so I leaped. It was kind of long and it was kind of...stupid. But it was like crack. Or a soap opera. Like Passions. I miss Passions sometimes. It was like a train wreck and you just could not stop looking. That was this dumb book. It was like horrible accident that you just had to keep reading about. It was horrible. The relationship was...horrible. And then...the ending sucked. It was like Twilight all over again. Only with...sex.)

The Ghost and the Goth. (OMG. I read this twice in two days. It is...fluffy. But SO DAMN GOOD. I saw this in the bookstore when I went to get R her present for her July Birthday, which is still sitting on my dinning room table for no good reason other than....I am the laziest person known to man. Anyways, I saw it in the book store and I knew I was a gonner for two reasons: the uber popular girl and the outsider. I'm a total sucker for these things. I'm sorry. I knew it. Then add in teh ghost aspect and I was like, SQUEEEEEE. And it lived up to all my expections. Only, the publisher failed, as it's not on Kindle yet for Book 2. BAH. It's the last book in the Immortals series all over again.)

Between the Lines. (Yet another book after reading the first two lines of the description I bought without reading any more, as it was about...Hollywood. Acting. Movies. Add in a wee bit of Romance. I love these topics as well. My all time favorite books as a kid always dealt with actresses and TV or movies. So, I got this right away and read it twice in two days. I love that it's told from two perspectives, the guy and girl. I also like how it ends, which I always surprising. Endings are the worst for me. I can't write them, I hate reading them. Then, I found out there's another book in the series and I was dancing around the room.)

Epic Fail. (Another I got when I saw Hollywood in the description. The book was kind of an epic fail though...it was a retelling of Pride and Prejudice from what I could tell. Which must be some book, as several of the books I've read over the past year are basically re-tellings of that story. Elizabeth Bennett is a big deal and I have no clue why. Why? Because I've read four pages of PP and thought my mind was going to explode. I only know what it's about because I watched Lost in Austen after Claire told me to. But, while the other stories I didn't SEE the story line playing out for me, I did in this story. Even the character's names were close to the original names used. It distracted me throughout. Also, while I loved how we FINALLY got to know the main dude near the end, I was rather unhappy it just ENDED rather randomly.)

Anna and the French Kiss. (This has popped up in the recommends since I got my Kindle. Whose name is Kendi. I don't know if I told you that. Anyways, I've always looked at it, heard wonderful things about it, but something prevented me from hitting the BUY button. I have no clue what, but it did. Finally, though, yesterday, I hit the buy button. And the book ate me alive. I am serious. It ate me alive. It has EVERYTHING going for it. A great main character voice, a wonderful boy to fall in love with, and great supporting character and....Paris. I'm not a HUGE Paris fan. I've never had this undying NEED to go to Paris. Or learn French. Or know anything about French. Except the French Revolution because it MAKES LITTLE SENSE to me. Like Communism. Or Economics. Things that make no sense to me, I always want to know more about. In a sense, I want things to fit into neat little boxes. But, that's not the point. Paris is not London. Paris is not Glasgow. Paris is not British in other words. So, I don't care about it. In the title, on the cover, you can tell Paris/French/France will play a role. It does. It is an important role. But, I wish that hadn't prevented me from buying the book. Because...this book is AWESOME. I can't even put it into words. I think I might be able to read this book a million times. Like Harry Potter. Or Summer Story (which I wrote, and I've read a total of five times. And I still love it.))

Falling in Love With English  Boys. (Duh, I got this book after seeing the title. It was kind of hard to get into, mostly because it is written as a blog written by a 16 year old in today's world, using today's slang, today's spelling and she write as I do. How she speaks. So thing are spelled wrong. I think if I read it out loud, it'd make more sense, but this was still pretty good. It was woven in with a diary of an 18 year old in 1815. Who knows a NICK. WHO ACTS LIKE A NICK. After this point...I kind of liked it more, so I read it too fast and missed a lot. I will read it again....after I read Anna and the French Kiss again. After I kill my barking dog. (Just kidding. I'm just going to wrap her up in a blanket and tell her she's not allowed to bark at the neighbor. She will look pathedic, I will go, "awwwww" and kiss her and hug her and she will cuddle up next to me and we'll forget she just scared the living shit out of me and more than likely who ever she was barking at out the front window.) Anyways, I love two viewpoints, and multiple story lines that weave together in the end, so duh, I liked this book. Plus LONDON. Tragically, it never out right told us who the 1815 chick ended up with, though it did tell us who she did not. Which was good, because I could sit there and be a dork.)

And that's it. Unless I add in there the stories I've written that I've read. (Mostly Summer Story. It's the only "complete" one. The others all need re-writes. Like RAB. RAB needs help I've decided. I have never been bored reading it till the last time I looked at it. I still loved the characters, but god, I was like, WFT was I thinking?)

Do people really say, in every day conversations, "BRB." Like say the freaking letters instead of "Be right back?" I had a friend in high school who said, "TTYL" And I always blinked at her. As my head doesn't work fast enough to figure it out. I've just noticed in the last few YA books, that in the actual conversations people have they are speaking in texting lingo. LOL, BRB. GTG. I am like, HUH? I AM OLD.

Oh, so I mowed the lawn. And I ignored the neighbors and people outside. Enjoying the fall day with my broken earphones, which one was stuffed into my shirt thumping and making horrible noises. Pilot Boy ran off with all earphones or lost them. We had three sets of BRAND NEW APPLE earphone, THREE sets of fancy ones and now the only ones I have find are the broken OLD APPLE EARPHONES that came with MY FIRST iSHUFFLE. SERIOUSLY?

I'm going to go die now. Or watch Doctor Who.

Writing Ate My Brain

I've been writing up a storm...so long I can't remember when I last was not working on the story that has consumed my life. It is literally all I can think about, all I can get myself to do in a timely manner. I can't write blog posts, I can't sew, I can't even eat. All I can do is write. It is insane.

The only thing not fallen on the way side due to the mind consuming story (which in some for has been consuming me since I was in high school. My journals from that era are filled with tasty, random tid bits that related to the story. They are also filled with a lot dumb things and massive spelling errors. Oh, and the most absurd things I thought were important enough to write down. I'm a regular comedian.) was my working out.

I KNOW! I couldn't remember to eat, to wash the dishes, get the mail, write my mother an email, but I did manage to work out for at least 40 to 45 minutes. During the week. Weekends are a lost cause. Even when Mad Man consumed me for awhile. (I watched the whole 4 seasons in like...five days or something insane like that, writing while I watched it. I'm talented. I wrote RAB while watching the "Gilmore Girls.")

Anyways, I've been doing these pilates/cadrio/dance type of workouts. The dance aspect is a failure for me as I'm the proud owner of five left feet. I am sure I look like a complete fool trying to follow the "dance" movements. These movements are so simple any idiot could do it, except this one. I like the pilates aspects of the work outs though. And they combine standing and mat workouts, which amuses me. What also amuses me....

After three weeks of doing this, I CAN SEE RESULTS.

Shocking. I never saw any results when I spent my life in the gym in the Dirt Hole. The only result I seemed to be getting was the fact my shirts no longer fit over my arms because I had muscles. Shirts still fit and I'm not as flabby in my arms. The best part, though, my stomach. Yeah, my a MAJOR issue is my stomach area. I hate it. Never have. You've heard it before. But, you guys! It's getting flatter suddenly. IT IS AMAZING.

I've also lost three pounds, but that's not really that important. What is important, I LOOK GREAT IN MY CLOTHES.

Now, I noticed after the first pilates based workout I did (Pick Your Spot Pilates) I suddenly was standing taller. If that makes sense. I felt my abs were stronger and pulling me up to stand up straight. I felt longer, leaner. It was so strange, I did the ab work out again the next day after walking way the pounds. I then branched out to other pilates based workouts offers by Crunch. I have three I use in a rotation. Burn and Firm pilates is a pretty good workout. I get messed up with the feet movements and I have yet to try it with the weights, but I do like it. It gets my heart rate going and makes me sweat. All good for me in my book. Super Slim Down is the one I do on days I don't want to really move around and look like a moron. It is an all mat based workout, but don't think that means it is easy. I'm still sweating pretty good at the end and I really feel my muscles working. The last one, the ones I really do like quite a bit, is Fat Burning Pilates. I can actually now almost get through the cardio section without tripping over my feet during the squat and leg pointing movements. Almost.

I like the results I am getting, as well as how I feel. I feel awesome. I always felt great after a good gym work out in the Dirt Hole, I'd just get frustrated because nothing on my body would be changing. I'd still look the same, so it wasn't all that rewarding. I tried everything in the Dirt Hole and nothing worked. This whole pilates thing, with the relaxing yoga workout on days in between, is really working for me.

Granted, I've been on a new diet as well. I don't snack any more, I drink a lot of water, and I eat a very, very, very light dinner. (Pilot Boy would not approve.) I eat a lot of fruit and try to get a couple veggies in at lunch. My biggest meal of the day is lunch. I don't know how this will work when Pilot Boy the Meat Eater returns either, as I'm not eating too much meat. I eat a cup of yogurt with fruit for dinner and have a glass of milk. Sometimes I also have a fiber bar at dinner time, if I didn't eat it at lunch. For lunch, I usually make something off this website: www.SkinnyTaste.com. They are Weight Watcher based, but I'm not counting my points. I just find they are easy to follow, have ingredients I've got around and she offers some veggie based dishes. Even Pilot Boy likes the meat dishes. Plus, she makes cookies. I like the cookies, the oatmeal chocolate chips ones are the best. Even Pilot Boy eats those.

That is what I've been up to: exercising and pouring words out of my fingers and laughing at my 13 year old self. (And my 15,16,17, and 18 year old self. By 19 I had stopped keeping written journal.)

I have some ideas for some thoughtful posts, I just have to write them, but I've wanted to right an Operation Jeans update for weeks. Because there was something to update.

I Should Write a Post II

So, I should write a post.

I haven't written one in a while because I couldn't think of anything to say.

Which I still really can't. I like to kind of plan posts. Granted, I doubt anyone really appreciates the fact I sit around and plan blog posts, but it's my blog. I like to plan my posts.

I have been writing a lot. This is what I've done:

1. Finished second overhaul on 10p. I put it into Kindle format and spazed out for like a week.
2. I am almost done with the EPIC Fantasy/Sci story I started when I was 19. Then the computer ate it and I was only left with the first 60 pages, instead of the whole damn story. Last winter, I started re-writing it. I have the final battle scene to write. The End.
3. I am almost done with this crazy story I started before I went to Scotland. I was lonely. I let my mind get away from me and imagaine silly imopssobe things. I started thinking about the story again lately and was like, "Hey, I ought to finish it. It's very typical YA." Then I started writing and now it's kinda of...crazy. But I know it will END.
4. I've rediscovered Lifehouse thanks to trying to come up with titles for scenes for 10p.
5. Got chapter 2 edits form my mom. WOOT!
6. I fell in love with a fiction character. Pilot Boy didn't seem to thrilled with that. He can seem to handle my fixation with Doctor Who, but not the character in a book I read....five times. In the past four weeks.
7. I have plans to finish a few other stories....just need to find people to read them....

Witty, Chitty and Blingy

I finished my "rework" of the 10p story (also known here as the Student & Professor). It was the story I tortured my mother with awhile back ago. The main character was unlikeable and it bored her to death.

I am not sure how. It never bore me. She didn't even get to the part I was worried did not work.

But I changed it up. I threw all the stuff that was the "main" section of the book to the cutting room floor. 10p was my attempt to write an "adult" fiction novel. The most fun I had while writing it was when I wrote the flashbacks to college, so I transplanted the whole thing to mostly college.

And it was fun again.

I have no idea if it'd bore my mother...more than likely will.

It has become clear to me I need some friends who 1) have no life and 2) like YA. Or I should clone myself and give myself wicked editing skills...

Till I magically find these people (or figure out cloning) while sitting in my house not communicating with anyone because I am simply that lame, I guess I'll just have to read it again later. Once I haven't looked at it for awhile. When I finished this "rework," I felt like I did when I finished it the first time. I did not want to let it go. But it was done. I had no clue what else to do with it. There was not much to do. It was done. Finished. Losely edited. Or badly editied.

The only worry I have is I read somewhere (on Twitter) that college stories don't sell. I remember when I was in college, I was kind of mad there weren't more stories that took place during the college years. I hate most adult fiction and I love reading YA, but I could not figure out why there were so few stories set in college. College is a time of growth and change so logically it seems like a perfect place to set a story aimed at teenagers...but maybe I'm just an idiot. (I have read a few stories that took place during college, I am sure...the only one I can think of was the last book in the Traveling Pants series. I loved that book.)

While I was home this past week, my mom asked me what happened to the four girls traveling in Europe. I looked at her blankly for a moment, as I had no clue what she was talking about. Then I remembered, so I told her I had recently finished "rewriting" it. I had begun this in the Dirt Hole and then forgot to finish it...I think the whole fleeing from the Dirt Hole came into being and then life just got crazy. I told her I had recently put it into my writing program and had "finished" it kind of, as I am not sure it really strings together right.

She told me it had potential. Or at least she thought it did if I made each of the girls stories a bit tighter, which was what I was working on.

So, after I finished 10p, I got out 4G and set to work reading it through, which I hadn't done since I finished my rewrites. We'll see how it goes.

So ends the writing post.

Writing

For years I have sat on...The Novel. Years. I wrote the first story when I was 15. I have rewritten it at least twice and made changes constantly for the past 12 years.

And no one has read it in its edited form.

Since I actually "finished" it, no one has read it. I think a total of maybe four people read the first draft version I wrote when I was 15. Yeah. Four people and they were about as helpful as moss. They all liked it and had very little suggestions.  I have tried numerous times over the book's life to have other people read it and give me feed back. C got as far as when G and L hook up. And I didn't hear much after that. I even set up a livejournal account where I'd  publish each chapter after I'd finish my edits for feedback from my friends (who seemed to have massive amounts of time to read my livejournal at the time.) No one commented on it. I never got any feedback on the actual written work. No one had the time to read it.

I have worked through ideas with my friends. I have gotten new ideas for the book while talking about the book. I have feedback on character development in verbal exchanges.

It got to the point I didn't bother to ask anyone. I gave up on being a writer because I could not get anyone to read anything I wrote. I do not want to publish it on the web in a public manner either for fear of it'd get stolen. (It happens.) In high school I did creative writing classes and did not find it helpful in the least. I wrote what I thought was complete crap a few times and everyone LIKED IT. I was like WTF? I didn't take any writing classes in college because everyone wanted to be a writer in college. So, I gave up. I remember the day clearly when I gave up. I was working at the bank and had asked another friend to read the last installment (or one of the installment). His response was it was fine, but I should stop writing about high school.

I was standing in the bank at work, pretending to be a teller. I had just finished writing the sixth book in the series when he told me I should write about other things other than high school. I'll be honest. It crushed me, as the whole thing (referred to as The Novel) was my life's work at that point in time. It was my pride and joy. I loved the characters. I loved working with them. After I finished the first four books, I added another four because I MISSED THEM. (The second four books are not up to any parr and are still being sifted through and worked out, but the first four are pretty much done.)

So, that day at the bank, I just gave up. I gave up the delusion I'd ever be published and that The Novel would ever be an actual book.

I did not stop writing by no means. I kept writing The Novel because I loved the characters. I kept reading and reworking because I loved the characters and I thought it was fun, but I never asked anyone to read anything, never entertained the idea of doing anything with it other than allowing it to take up space on various hard drives.

I have two friends who have read the "reworked" version. (Kinda. No one has read the version I am trying to get into shape right now.) All I know is that they liked it. I've asked for other feedback as I email the novels off, but I only hear "is there more?"

Hence why, after a whole year and half of ignoring The Novel, I got it out. I hadn't finished the second four books and had only a vague plan. I know where the characters are going and where they end up. I just have to get them there. So I set to work.

Then, I got the idea that maybe The Novel could work as a published work. I just needed some other eyes to look at it and give suggestions and edit. So, I spent three months re-reading and reworking the first book. I changed some things, tried to tighten up the plot line...and then it was done. So I asked my family for help.

I'm sure my brother hasn't open the file. It seemed just as I emailed it, drama broke out, so there is no time.
I know my father has opened it and spent at least and hour on it. That was all he said.
No one has shown my mother how to operate comments in Word. This either means she hasn't read it, or she's reading it and not giving me any feedback.


And thus, the curse of no one having the time of day for the novel occurs again. I understand people are busy. I understand things take prescient over my book. It just frustrates me to no end. Because if someone gave me something to read, I'd read it. I'd make the time. I'd find the time. I always did. It might not have been the most timely thing in the world, but I'd sit down and do it. And it'd try my best.


And I know there will come a time when some stranger will have to read it. And they will not like it. And they will have no problem telling me this much. It would be nice, though, before this happened, someone I knew and trusted read it and told me what they really thought in the actual manuscript. I was secretly thrilled when I did a paper in college where we emailed the Word doc to the professor and he used the Tracking feature to leave comments and edit it. It was brilliant and I was like, "OMG! This is AWESOME." Since college, I have grown to kind of get a sick joy out of people editing and commenting on things I write. I call it a sick joy, because it used to upset me greatly when people would change things I had written. I had many a fight with my mother when she'd be editing stories I had written in high school (hence why I never handed over The Novel to her before).


But, I'm kinda ready for it. I realized when I had emailed the Student/Professor story to my mother and she, well, she hated it. And I knew she was right. It needs a major re-haul and I think I don't write adult characters very well. When I wrote the story the easiest and most fun thing to write was when the character was in college. So, I have ideas and feedback on that (well part, I let her stop reading as it seemed to be causing her great pain and I was embarrassed).


But, the thing that came out of it was I knew I needed work and where I needed and it was HELPFUL.


I just feel kind of BLARG at the moment. I feel a bit better now that I've written it down. Now I will shower and get ready to face the snowy day. And tackle the closet.

Things I Wish Would Magically Happen...

1. I could spell.
2. I'd get an agent.
3. I'd write something that made sense to more than just me.
4. I had a TARDIS.
5. I'd be able to go to the gym without actually having to drive there.
6. I would like to go running.
7. The dishes would wash themselves.
8. The vacuum would turn into a Dyson.
9. Basil would stop shedding.
10. I no longer had sinus headaches.

None of those things will magically happen.

I was going to take a video of the noise my new TARDIS cookie jar makes, but Pilot Boy ran off with the camcorder. I don't remember why, as he never takes pictures of anything.

The Death of Paper

So...last weekend/week my husband went to live in an ice cave. Seriously, he was in an ice cave.

But that isn't the point. The point is, I wanted to desperatly read a new book. So you say, Ireland, go to the library.

I can't. We don't actually have a library card because we never took the post card back to say YEAH WE LIVE HERE! And because when I went into the library, I didn't like it there. I am serious, I am very picky about what libraries I will use. I am a library brat. I think I only used the library in my home town because my mother made me.

But I'm not going to talk about libraries, or we'd be here forever. Like the time I talked about parking lots for two hours. BUT I WILL NOT DO THIS!

No, I want to talk about...eBooks.

I don't actually like books. I like READING. I like the art of creating WORDS ON PAPER. I like STORIES. But I hate the actual books. Why? Easy, they are cumbersome. Have you ever had to carry Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire in your purse? Have you ever attempted to carry more than one book in your purse? That are hard cover? I have you ever packed a whole suitcase that was just full of books and then gotten yelled at because you had no socks? (This might have been toys and not books, but you get the point.)

When I worked, I always had a book with me. I turned myself into Rory Gilmore and ALWAYS had a book on me. And my shoulders hated me. I know, why didn't I carry paperbacks? I did. They still take up room. And they still weight a lot when you carry around three of them. During the time I spent with Conrad Black, I read A LOT OF BOOKS. People BROUGHT ME BOOKS TO READ. I am totally serious. And I still have them because the people who would give me books would VANISH randomly during the trial. So, then I'd have a backpack of of paperbacks.

It was also at this time, I began to realize it kind of sucked trying to eat and read at the same time in a chair. (I never sat at the table. I had two chairs I used. It was MY DOMAIN, the Reader in the Corner who Never Talked.) Reading on the train also kind of sucked, as it was hard to keep the pages flat while trying not to touch the person next to me.

I began reading at lunch in high school when I was a ball of nerves and could not EAT in a room of peers. So my mom suggested I read jokes in Reader's Digest. We had spent the summer cleaning out my Grandma D's things and had an a collection of RD's. So they were in my lunch box and I was the weird girl reading during lunch. BUT IT HELPED. But, it did make it hard to eat.

So, back to where I started. eBooks.

I didn't get eBooks when they first appeared. I was like, "WFT? Another device I have to buy? Lame."
I didn't buy straight eBooks because I like to read all over the place. So, one day, I was watching TV and there was a Kindle add for the Kindle app. It moves between devices or something and I was like, "Interesting." I had been getting "free" books off of iBooks to read during times I wait for things (like the two hour oil change. I MADE myself read The Wizard of Oz.) So, I sat on my couch, picked up my iPhone and found the kindle app. I told myself if it was free, I'd get it.

It was free.

Then I went into the Kindle Store and found a few Maureen Johnson books I had wanted to read (they weren't at Target, where I buy most of my books because Target owns my soul). I hit the little download button.

Seven days later I was like "OMG THIS IS AMAZING."

Why?

I will list it for you.

1. I always have at least five books with me at all times.
2. I can read anywhere, in any position and the pages don't move unless I want them to be moved.
3. I can READ AT THE GYM. It is the most amazing thing in the world to make time go by quickly. It'd go better if I had a bigger screen than my iPhone, but STILL!
4. I can get a book at any time without leaving my house (as long as I have access to Wi-Fi.)
5. My shoulder no longer aches from toting around books. I always have my iPhone and it doesn't weigh as much as book.

There. Five reasons why I like eBooks.

I know eBooks do not smell. I know they aren't "books" and the experience in reading them is somehow "different." But, I was never super attached to the actual "book." I never did like book stores. They freaked me out. Too much in one small space. I remember being BORED out of my mind when my friends would go into used book stores in Madison. I would feel like I was wasting away into nothingness. It was like, TOO MANY BOOKS, BRAIN EXPLODE.

I am horrible, I do not care. I like reading on my iPhone. To me, there is nothing different than reading a book on my iPhone than reading an actual book. Also, after I read the book on my iPhone, I don't need to find another book shelf to put the book on. I only have two bookshelves and they are both full. So, in reality, I can't really get any more books. Unless Pilot Boy makes me another bookcase. It took me four years to get the first one.

EEEKKKK!!!!

Omg. I think I just finished a book.

What the hell do I do with it?

I don't know. Maybe now I will actually sleep? As I think what has been keeping me up is rewriting and making new scenes in my head. Yeah....it consumed me.

But I think its done.

It is only 351 pages...un-edited. I don't know if that is long enough. It should be, right?

I just needed to share I had finished. And oddly I am not thinking, "OMG I DO NOT WANT TO LOOK AT YOU AGAIN."

Which is how I felt about a lot of things I have finished.

Now it Might Make Sense...

So, yesterday I wrote this entry, and now I will get to what I really wanted to write, but I just had to tell you that back story in order for this to make the most impact. (Or not, I might just be insane.)

While I do not understand Twitter or use it to its full extent, I still do enjoy it and do follow quite a few people. Recently, I renewed my interest in actually doing something with my writing, so I started following authors and people who write blogs about writing and publishing and....aghast, an agent. 

Anyways, one of the authors I follow is Marueen Johnson, who writes YA fiction. I enjoy her tweets because...well, she's funny and I seem to "understand" them for what they are. And even if I don't, I'm amused. Anyways, she said something about this software geared towards writers. Because I was curious, I checked it out.

Now, what was this software? Scrivener.

OMG, you guys, I think I am going to DIE.

After surfing around the page for awhile, I downloaded the trial version. Within five minutes I was like, "WHERE THE HELL HAVE YOU BEEN ALL MY LIFE?!"

The next day I thought my head was going to explode just because the program did everything I had always wanted. For years I have been losing documents that just have random notes, lists of cars, list of songs, list of places, character developments, and various other research. Sometimes I get massively organized and put it all in one folder, but there is still things that go MIA. The Epic Novel has this problem a lot. I seriously remember making a new list of colleges and major for the characters and have NO CLUE where it went. I did a whole night of research on what high school classes they were all in only to discover six months later, it was totally GONE.

HOWEVER, with Scrivener, you can get it all in once place, in one program and not have to have a million different word documents open at once! So far I stuck the Student/Professor story into the program and IT WAS THE BEST 8 HOURS OF MY LIFE (well, in my life of writing).

The other thing I liked was I DIDN'T READ ANY DIRECTIONS on how to use it. I just USED it. It was that intuitive that I just opened it and 8 hours later, I had my novel in the program. Also, I like the fact its got this feature where you can write scene by scene, make outlines and has a section to aid in character development. When I rewrote the Epic Novel the first time, I actually made summary of each chapter and what I wanted out of the chapter and I felt that allowed for the whole thing to be BETTER. Of course, this was when I still carried around notebooks and pens, so I had it written down and didn't have to have yet another window on Jess open.

I digress though, this program does ANOTHER wonderful thing. I have ALWAYS wondered how long my stories/novels would be if they were in book form (and by book form I mean, that it is laid out in how it would be printed out if it was a REAL BOOK). All I had to do was hit the compile button, then choose what format I wanted, and BAM. I had a Word document that was a REAL LIFE BOOK. Not simply pages of 8 by 11 virtual paper. But how it would be laid out if it were a book! The feature to do this through word NEVER impressed me, but OMG, after I complied it the first time, I was like, hey, I wrote a pretty long book! (I honestly did not think the Student/Professor story would be long enough to be an actual novel, but it is!)

The trial for Scrivener is good for 30 days from the first time you open it and I will be spending the 45 bucks to buy it. Because it is totally wroth it, as I will more than likely be using it a lot over my life.

Note for you Windows users, I am not sure if you can get a Windows version, as I have a Mac and it seems very Mac like and when I went to the BUY section just now, it as only available in Mac....

UPDATE: They do "do" Windows:  http://www.literatureandlatte.com/scrivenerforwindows/

This Might Make Sense Tomorrow

So, something you should know about me: I am random.

Just in case you did not know, or in case you randomly forgot. I am random and I make major life decisions kind of randomly.

When I was about 8 I randomly decided I wanted to be an actress even though I was terrified of performing.

At age 12 I randomly declared (only to myself) I was going to be a musician even though I could not read music or play any instrument. By age 13 I figured I'd just magically learn to sing on key and everything would be fine.

Still can't read music, play an instrument, and even though I sing on a daily basis and took voice lessons for two years, I can't sing on key.

At age 14, while sitting in church staring at the back of his head, I randomly decided that I was going to date my first boyfriend. A year later, I clued him in on this fact by writing a very long epic novel, which I started randomly because...

At age 15, I randomly decided instead of sitting in study hall doing nothing, I was going to write. So, I simply began writing. And writing and writing and writing.

At age 18, I randomly decided to go to Beloit College because they had sink in their dorm rooms. (And Illinois Wesleyan had wait listed me, which pissed me off. Never make big choices while pissed off.)

At age 20, I randomly decided my major while walking passed Campbell Hall, where my adviser just happened to be located. This is why I cannot answer the question, "Why did you become a political science major?" I honestly don't know, other than it sounded good at the moment, so I did it.

At age 22, I randomly announced I was never going to find a boy, so I was never going to look again. (I never really looked for one before, they always found me...but that is not the point.) The point is due to the random announcement, my friend asked if she could hook me up with her boyfriend's roommate. And a year and seven months after meeting the roommate, I married him. And I did not do it randomly. I pestered him for a few months, then planned for a few months, then yelled as he tried to ruin the whole thing, then finally married him.

And, at the age of 24, I decided I wanted a sewing machine because I was going to sew my own clothes. (I can't sew clothing.)

At the ripe old age of 25, I decided I wanted to make handbags and sell them because it sounded kind of random to me. And made little sense, as I hate sales. But I sell things.

And, while walking to get the mail at the ripe of age of 26, I decided I was a writer.

Yeah, you read that right. I am a writer. Why? Because I write. I write so much the fact that the desk we own is three inches too high has caused my wrists to constantly ache and I have to sit on three pillows and use a footstool because I can't touch the ground. I am of average height, but the desk was custom made for my not average female height husband. 

What is the point of this random entry? Well, mostly to tell you I randomly decided to become a writer and now you have the back story, so come back tomorrow to get the rest.