“If there’s a book you really want to read but it hasn’t been written yet, then you must write it.” - Toni Morrison

Wednesday, December 18, 2013


I wrote this for a little story thing that a friend of mine does where she posts a picture and people write a story on it. Since she doesn't have Internet access anymore, she sends a picture to me in the mail. This is a first draft, so it isn't the greatest. Hope you like and please comment! :) And as an aside - who thinks I should continue this? I've got an idea for it. ;)

This was the picture - or, rather, a variation since I can't find the original on the Internet:

I'll be adding images of what Gastrophia COULD look like in the text. :)

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“Whaddya think?” Roy asked me over the radio. We were walking in our red space suits along a red cliff wall on the planet Gastrophia. Don't asked me who chose such a dumb name for a new planet. I certainly would have chosen something better. Don't know what, but I'm sure I would think of something if I was asked. Not that I would be. I'm only an insignificant explorer who goes out with the crew to check to see if this planet is good enough.

It's the year 3999. Actually, it won't be for much longer. It's New Year's Eve right now, 10:00 p.m. Anyway, Roy and I are part Exploration Team Moon. Again, another stupid name. We've never even gone to any planet's moon. But again, I'm off topic. Roy tells me I'm really bad at doing that. As I said, it's the year 3999, and we're on an exploration to see if Gastrophia would work as a new home for humans after the scientists do some tweaking to the planet's atmosphere. Most humans are on the planet Hope now, others are on this little moon called Faith that's going to burn up soon because its sun is getting to close. It was named Hope because it was seen as a new chance for life after humans polluted earth so badly that they had to move to the next available planet...but then that was polluted, too. This is actually the fifth planet that humans may now inhabit.

“Doesn't look bad,” I answered. “Good amount of water. No aliens spotted yet. It's a little weird with the red rock, though.”

“Well, Senna had purple rock.”

“Yes, and those darn scientists went and made it all grey to make it all more 'home-like'!” I almost shouted.

“Ouch.” I could almost feel Roy wincing, even though his back was to me. “I know you're angry about it, Ami, but maybe keep it down a little?”


We walked in silence. The cliff wall seemed to be going on forever. And the cliff ledge wasn't gettting any wider, either.

Suddenly, my eyes narrowed. Did I just see a shadow move on the cliff top above? I shook my head. No, that couldn't be.

We kept walking.

There it was again! A flitting shadow appearing and then disappearing behind a rock.

“Roy...” I started, a little hesitant to be bothering about him.

“Yeah?” Roy kept walking, pulling on the rope tied around my waist a little. One of the rules is that explorers must travel in pairs with a rope tied around both of their waists for safety. The other is, don't stop walking. Never stop walking. You never know what could happen if you did. Just because the scientists checked for alien life didn't mean that they were always right. Like that incident on the planet that was named Destruction because of the terrible things that had happened there.

“Is it just me, or did you see something up there?”

The back of Roy's helmet shifted down as he looked up, still walking. There was a walk in silence for what was probably about half a minute, but felt like much longer.

“Nope,” Roy finally said. “I don't see anything.”

Suddenly, the shadow flitted out again.

“There!” I forgot myself and excitedly pointed, taking a hand off the rope.

“I see it, Ami, but keep holding onto the rope,” Roy said steadily, surprising me again with how much he could tell when his back was to me.

“Sorry, but did you see it? What do you think it is?”

“I don't know, but something doesn't feel right. Let's keep walking.”

“But to reach the base, we're going to have to walk seven miles to get around this circular cliff. But if we turned around, the base is back just two miles,” I argued, irrationally.

“But we can't turn around, can we?” the unsettlement in his voice upset me.

A kind of hissing roar sounded above our heads.


“Keep walking. At the same pace, so they don't realize that we've noticed them.”


“Don't look up, Ami!”

Too late. I had already lifted my head to gaze above me, horrified.

Three creatures were above us. They looked like three-headed dogs with very sharp teeth, except that they striped like a zebra. Except that their stripes were dark red and light red. They had blended so well into the rocks that I hadn't noticed them before, but now the red rock was turning into a brilliant yellow. Nine heads looked right into my soul with their beady eyes. The middle head of each creature snarled at me. And then, as I opened my mouth to scream, I suddenly realized that I had stopped.


As each dog leaped, Roy stepped in front of me protectively. To my great astonishment, the first dog sailed over our heads into the chasm below. It had jumped too far. Not that I was looking back at me or anything, but I hadn't told you about what that chasm looked like before. It was boiling hot lava. But humans have got around worse things on other planets before. I wouldn't be surprised if the scientists could dry up the lava. The next dog jumped too low, and got itself caught on one of the many spiky rocks jutting out of the cliff. It howled a dying moan. I flinched, and grasped on to the closest jutting rock, which happened to be not particularly spikey.

Not that I want to sound like the narrator of Goldilocks and the Three Bears, but the middle creature jumped at just the right height. It hit Roy right in the chest. It and Roy went flying towards the chasm. I screamed. And then I was holding the rock for dear life, for I felt the weight of Roy pulling me down.

The weight got stable. Opening my eyes that I had closed tight shut in fright, I saw Roy hanging over the cliff edge, his green eyes looking calmly at me, the stubble under his nose where he was trying to grow out a moustache making brown specks.

“Roy!” I screamed.

This time, I could see him flinch.

“Ouch,” his voice sounded over the radio in my spacesuit helmet.

“Roy,” I sobbed, but more quietly this time.

“Ami,” he said, calmly. “Get out your knife and cut the rope.”

“What?!” I looked at him with a shocked expression. I wouldn't be surprised if my mouth was open. “I am not leaving you!”

“Ami. Listen to me.” Roy was speaking so calmly that infuriated me. “That dog-thing bit me before it went over. Look.”

He held up his arm. Where the dog's bite had ripped the special fabric that the scientists had designed open, where Roy's arm had been, there was...stone.

“Oh my God.” I put one hand to my mouth in shock.

“I'm slowly turning to stone, Ami. I'm going to get heavier and when I'm completely stone, I'm going to pull you down. Now cut the rope.”

“No.” I shook my head obstinately. “I'm not letting you go. As soon as this expedition ends, we're going back to Hope for our wedding.”

“I know. Those were all wonderful plans.” I saw tear leave Roy's left eye and fall, shimmering, down his cheek. “But I can't marry you when I'm a statue. Go find someone else. There are lot of handsome guys on Exploration Team Moon.”

“Not funny,” I informed him.

Sorry. But honestly, Ami, you've got to let me go. Let it be a dying man's wish, if it has to come to that. I don't want you to die, Ami. You've got so much life ahead of you. Just please...” He swallowed hard and squeezed his eyes shut for a moment. When he opened them again, those beautiful green eyes were shining with tears. “I love you, Ami, but I'm stone up to my waist now. Cut the rope.

All those plans we had together,” I sobbed. “Ever since we were kids together...that one day when we were thirteen and you promised that you'd marry me someday. We've been engaged two years now.”

“It's going to be up to my neck in a moment, Ami,” he said, quietly.

I nodded and swallowed and put a hand to my pocket. Out came the pocket knife Roy had let me borrow on one of our expeditions three years ago. After the expedition, he had told me to keep it.

“I...I can't.”

“And I won't be able to talk in a moment, so it had better be the last time that I say – CUT. THE. ROPE.” Roy's voice sounded strangled.

I put the knife to the rope, and began sawing back in forth. My mind went wild. “After this is done, we'll go back to Hope, yeah? We'll get married and then we'll go to the Moon of Ploom for our honeymoon, yeah? They say it's gorgeous up there.”

The rope was half-cut. I couldn't see for the tears, but I kept sawing away. I took one hand away to swipe at my eyes so I could see again. Roy was staring at me, silently. Where his collar ended, his skin was beginning to look a little grey.


I kept sawing obstinately and wouldn't look at him.


The end got cup off. I still refused to look at him. The rope was almost cut.

“I love you.”

I looked up just as the last cord snapped. His nose was just beginning to turn to stone then as he fell. But to the last moment, his eyes still stayed on my face until they were frozen in place and I turned away and hugged the jutting rock for comfort, sobbing.

Saturday, December 14, 2013

Worlds Collide ~ Chapter 3: Lucy

I'm almost done exams! One more left on Monday! Wish me luck!

I hope you enjoy this latest chapter. :) :)

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"Are you alright, miss?" The voice of a little girl broke through Martha's nothingness, stirring her back into reality.

Martha groaned. She had a splitting headache, and her back had a cramp. She opened one eye cautiously, expecting to be blinded by light. But, instead, she found herself lying on the dusty ground of a dusky, very small room. A little girl sat on a bench less than a foot away from where she was lying, with her back against something that felt hard like...

She gasped and sat up, wincing at the pain in her back. "I...I'm on a...!" she spluttered. Across from her, light came in through a window that no longer had any glass in it. This light suddenly brightened a little as it does on those summer days, fluctuating in the afternoon.

"Train," the little girl finished for her. "Yes, you're on a train."

Martha turned to survey the little girl. She seemed to be around eight years old. She had brown hair that reached just past her chin and beautiful blue eyes. She was wearing a knee-length double-breasted tweed coat with a mixture of cream, green, yellow, and brown threads and dark brown buttons. She also wore a mossy brown beret. Brown sweater cuffs peeked underneath the sleeves of the coat. Her feet were adorned with cream socks under black leather Mary Janes. She was hugging a honey-coloured bear to her chest.

Lucy...with one of her brothers, who shouldn't be in the picture. xD
"What...year is this?" Martha asked. "And who are you?"

The little girl didn't even seem surprised at the question.

"It's the year...nine...teen...forty," she stressed the words with a proud flourish. "I'm Lucy Pevensie, and who are you?"

"Lucy Pev..." Martha shook her head. "No way. You're not THE Lucy Pevensie of Narnia, are you?" She clapped a hand over her mouth, realizing what she had just said. Too late.

"Narnia?" Lucy looked very confused. "What's that?"

"Uhh..never mind. I meant to say...London. You're Lucy Pevensie of London, aren't you?" Martha tried to cover up her mistake in a way that she knew was just making it worse."

"Yes..." Lucy mused. "How did you know?"

"I just guessed." Martha wracked her brain for information, something clever to say. "You're on your way to the country for evacuation, aren't you?"

"Yes." Lucy's lip seem to quiver a little bit. "But...the train suddenly stopped and then there was this really bright flash. And then Peter, Susan, and Edmund were gone and you took their place." Her face became angry. "What did you do with them? Bring them back!"

Martha blinked. "What? Me? What do you mean? Are those your brothers and sisters?"

"Y-yes," Lucy half-sobbed. She put her hands to her eyes, all the while still hugging the teddy bear to her chest with her arms.

"Oh, I'm so sorry, honey." Martha eased herself into a semi-crouch and manoeuvred herself around and up so that she was sitting by Lucy. She put an arm around the little girl. Lucy made a choking noise and snuggled up close to her.

"Now, I just want you to know, I did nothing to your brothers and sisters. In fact, I have no idea how I got here." Martha held Lucy tight.

"Really?" Lucy lifted her hands away, revealing a tear-stained face.

"I was standing around where I live, and suddenly I found myself here. But don't worry, I'm sure we'll get your brothers and sister back. I have a friend named the Doctor who's going to help us," Martha assured her.

"Do you promise?" Lucy asked, looking up into Martha's eyes.

Martha gulped. This little girl was so innocent, so trusting. She had never wanted to help someone so badly. And yet, she had never met someone so strange in her life. She had travelled to the past and future with the Doctor, but in all her time with him, she had never known it was possible to meet a fictional character. Or was this little girl really fictional? She couldn't quite believe it to be so.

And so, even though she had no idea whether it would be all right in the end or not, she decided to take a chance.

"I promise."

Then she suddenly laughed. "I never told you my name! I'm Martha Jones." She smiled down at Lucy.

"It's nice to meet you, Miss Jones," Lucy responded, dutifully.

"No, don't say that," Martha shook her finger at Lucy in a mock-disapproving way. "You must call me Martha. Can I call you Lucy? We're going to be great friends."

Lucy giggled. "Yes, of course."

Martha's heart warmed. Whatever was coming her way, however bad things were, this little girl had made some of it a little better. And she trusted that the Doctor would come save them...somehow.

How To Write a Really Good Book

My Blogger friend Una just wrote this beautiful and very true post about writing. I hope that you will check it out. I will provide a link underneath the excerpt.

Deep fiction is hard to write.  In order to bare the depths of a character's soul, you have to dig deep inside your own.  And frankly, sometimes it's not pleasant to get too deep.  It's not pleasant to acknowledge your own faults and flaws.  That's why it can hurt to be a writer.  Every character whom you turn inside out has a tiny bit of you in them.  A tiny bit of you that others can hate or love, loathe or adore.  Being a writer means being vulnerable and acknowledging that you have flaws.  That you have a past.  That you have troubles.  Nobody's whitewashed; not on the outside and definitely not on the inside. 

Read more.

Sunday, December 1, 2013

Worlds Collide ~ Chapter 2: Through Purple Sky

I don't feel as great about this second chapter, but please let me know what you think as it keeps me going!!

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Martha stared back at the Doctor in shock. "What do you mean, time and space have been torn apart? How could that be? What caused it? What do we do?"

"I can just tell. I'm a Time Lord, you know. And I don't know," the Doctor responded with much more calmness than Martha thought even he could muster.

"But you've got to do something!" Martha cried desperately.

The Doctor rolled his eyes. "Just because I have no idea what is going on doesn't mean I'm not going to do anything, Martha Jones. I thought you would know that by now."

"Sorry." Martha looked down. "I just...got a little carried away, you know?"

No response. Martha snapped her head back into normal position just to see the flying back of the Doctor's familiar brown coat.

"Doctor! Wait!" Martha yelled. But suddenly, a gust of wind blew up, and her words felt as if they had never left her mouth.

A brilliant flash of lightning streaked across the sky. Thunder boomed so loud that Martha's ears hurt and the ground felt like it was shaking.

Actually, it WAS shaking. Martha glanced down at her feet. Her legs were wobbling like mad, and she was sure that even terror couldn't make them move like that. And then...CRACK! The ground split underneath her feet.

"DOCTOR!" Martha screamed.

The last thing she saw was the Doctor turn around and look at her with the desperate look of one who can't believe he is about to lose someone yet again. She never could understand why she could see his face so clearly when he was on the other side of the crowd. Yet that crowd had seemed to melt away, leaving only the Doctor, just before she plunged into darkness. She didn't even feel herself falling, just suddenly blackness - as if not only the light, but her whole consciousness, had been turned off with the flick of a switch.

* * * * * * * * * *

The last thing the Doctor saw of Martha was her terrified face as she fell through a huge crack in the ground. He watched her disappear, helpless. In the back of his consciousness, he suddenly realized that the crowd had faded away into dust, a dust that was swirling through the stormy air and stinging his eyes. He tried to shout for Martha even though he knew it was useless, but the wind blew the words away, replacing them with a sandy taste and a grainy feel in his mouth. The Doctor  realized that he was being lifted off the ground. He gazed above him with a desperate look. The crack in the sky was pulling him like a magnet to itself.

Suddenly, he laughed out loud, and the laugh actually sounded out, but it was more like an echo of a thing gone than a thing happening in the present.

Now he could find out what was going on.

The Doctor waved a friendly hand at the fierce purple clouds and smirked at the lightning.

"Take me to your leader!" he shouted, feeling in his pockets for his most precious thing after the Tardis.

He felt the familiar lump in his pocket. His sonic screwdriver was still there.

With that last comfort, the Doctor now felt ready for whatever was going to be thrown at him. He had never faced anything as crazy as this, yes, but not all was lost. He had that inner gut feeling that Martha was still alive, he had his sonic screwdriver, and he was going to find out what the hell was going on. And then he would find Martha, and with her help, get everything back to normal. That's what his job was, anyway.

He was feeling better and better by the moment. He couldn't get to that crack in the sky fast enough. In fact, he noticed that his progress was getting slower. The wind was beginning to buffet him.

"Oh, come on!" he yelled, and shook a fist at the lightning. "You can do better than that!"

As if in answer, he suddenly felt himself being shot up towards that crack at a very fast pace. Faster and faster, nearer and nearer. He watched it come closer with growing anticipation. As the clouds hurtled past, he almost felt as if time was rushing past. As if he were moving in time and space. Not that was a new experience or anything.

The crack. He was almost there. The Doctor felt himself passing through. His foot touched a cloud, and a tingle of electricity spread through him.

"Allons-y!" he yelled his signature cry.

Worlds Collide ~ Chapter 1: It All Begins

I recently came up with a new fanfiction idea. I'll be writing this story slowly as I'm starting it completely for scratch. That means just a general idea that I'll see where it takes me as I write. Hopefully this doesn't create chaos. 

As far as I see at the moment, this story will be mainly about Doctor Who and The Lord of the Rings, with some Narnia, Les Miserables, and Once Upon a Time. This story idea sparked from one of my favourite books, Toward the Gleam (https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/11035421-toward-the-gleam).

Enjoy and please let me know what you think! :D

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There is a little out-of-the-way corner on a backstreet in London where some of the poorer Londoners who still have a home live. Between two houses, there is a heap of wood, paper, and other odds and ends that nobody really cares about, except when they take the time to dig about in it to see if there could be anything use using or selling. A heap of rubbish that people walk by without taking much notice of it. And on this early morning, no one has noticed something blue sticking out. A big blue box-like thing that looks a little bit like a Port-a-Potty if you don't look closely. If one took the care to look closely, that person would see that this box is wooden, not plastic. And if one climbed on top of the rubbish heap to take an even closer look, that person would see a sign that states: Police Box. Not something that you would expect to see in 21st century London. But then again, people usually never really bother to notice this blue box, no matter where it goes.
And this box has been a lot of places. It has a long history - just like the man who owns it.

A mad man, some people call him - a mad man with a blue box. Others call him an angel, a saviour of mankind. And still others, the lonely god. In some way or another, he is all of these things. He sometimes seems a little batty, especially when you first to get to know him. But inside is a heart of gold - in fact, two hearts. For this man is not human. He is a Time Lord - the last of his kind to roam the earth. He travels through time and space just to save humanity time and time again. But the thing is, humanity doesn't know. The people on earth go around doing their daily business, never knowing that if this man was not in existence, they would have been dead long ago.

This man is called the Doctor.

At this moment, he is sitting in his blue box - the Tardis. Sitting in front of doughnut-shaped controller with a big pipe sticking in the middle, his hands behind his head and his feet on top of the control system, he contemplates life past, present, and future - the thing he has seen and the things he has done. 

A planet with twin suns, his homeland. He had a family there. He had a life there. Until a great enemy came and destroyed it all. He, the sole survivor. What a lonely life it had been ever since. He had picked up travelling companions from time to time, but it never lasted. For as a Time Lord, he lived much, much longer than any human being did. He always had to lose the ones he loved just when he realized that he did, indeed, love them. And not only the romantic love - but also the friendly and familial love.

It never lasted.

And that always brought his mind back to her. Beautiful, brave, and blond Rose Tyler. She had stolen his heart ever since the first day he met her when tracking down a monster that could control everything plastic on earth. She had stuck with him through thick and thin. Even when he sent her back home so that she wouldn't die along with him, she found a way to come back and save him. But as the Doctor now knew so well - so painfully and heartbreakingly well - something like that could never last with him. And those old enemies, the enemies who had killed the Doctor's people, stole Rose away from him. She was alive, thank God, but she was in a parallel universe. And he could never, ever see her again. Not ever - unless he ripped apart the universe, which was something the Doctor would never do. Even to see her again.

"Good morning, Doctor?"

The Doctor kept his eyes shut, making a pretense of being asleep. He tried to keep the grin from his face, but he knew it was showing a little. He knew Martha knew that he was just playing fun.

Ah, yes - Martha Jones. His latest companion. It had all been change, really. After his parting from Rose, the Doctor swore that he wouldn't take another more travelling companions. It was better to stay lonely than to have both his hearts broken over and over again. But companionship was his weakness, he supposed. After meeting Martha, aspiring doctor, in a hospital, who helped him stop a vampire-like woman. Actually, she helped save his life. In return, he promised to take her on one trip with him in his Tardis. That one trip had turned into another and another, until Martha had became a legitimate travelling companion. 

He didn't have to open his eyes to see her chocolate-coloured skin and her playful smile. He would never admit it to her, but deep down inside, he rather fancied Martha Jones. Actually, it was more than that, but he wouldn't accept it. He hadn't gotten over Rose and he never would. That was what wouldn't let him truly love anyone else. 

"Oh, come on, Doctor," Martha's teasing voice entered his thoughts. "I know very well that you aren't sleeping. Do you ever sleep anyway?"

The Doctor opened his eyes, spun his swivel chair around, and leaped out of it.

"Not if I can help it," he joked in his let's-avoid-the-subject manner.

Martha rolled her eyes. "Fine then, Mr. Secretive. But now that I'm all rested and dressed and I'm just about to have a bite to eat, I'm ready to go - wherever we're going. Is there a destination decided yet?" she ended with a question, as she pulled a granola bar out of her pocket and began to unwrap it.

"I dunno at the moment," the Doctor admitted. "Have any place in mind?"

"Not really," Martha answered though a mouthful of Oats 'n Honey bar. "I mean, we've been so many places already that I think we would have covered all my top places. We've gone practically everywhere, from Shakespeare to New New New New New York."

"A couple more 'New's there, and you would have been close," the Doctor responded, looking at a screen of the Tardis that signalled danger and that sort of thing. "And we haven't really gone everywhere, but we certainly have been around a lot of places."

Before Martha had time to make another teasing response, a loud noise sounded from outside. This wasn't your usual oh-my-gosh-what-a-big-bang-something-must-have-exploded, but much more than that. A piercing and horrible cracking noise that was several times worse than lightning and thunder combined.

"I guess we have our answer," Martha commented before the Doctor had even time to react.

"Alrighty then." The Doctor shrugged on his brown coat as Martha grabbed her red leather jacket. He was already opening the door as Martha rushed towards it. "Allons-y!"

Outside, people were rushing out of their homes, down the alleyway, and out into the open busy street. The Doctor dashed after them, with Martha trying desperately to keep up. In the street, a whole crowd of people were gathered around. Some were pointing, and others were screaming. But they all had one thing in common. They were looking up at the sky.

The sky, normally a brilliant azure, perhaps with a couple of clouds scattered here and there, was purple. A deep purple that was close to a vibrant red. Lightning dashed across the sky. And, worst of all, right where it seemed the middle of the sky was, a huge crack was splitting the sky in two. It was getting bigger and bigger, with a yawning chasm behind it. The chasm was a brilliant red-orange, and the most freakish storm that a human being could have possibly ever seen before, was taking place in it. 

"Oh my God..." Martha murmured. She turned to judge the Doctor's reaction. He was staring up at the sky with a terrible expression on his face. His eyes showed the he was far away in though. A wind was starting up, and it ruffled through his mess of brown hair that looked like it hadn't been combed that morning. But it was the terrible look on his face that gave Martha a sinking feeling of despair. She had never seen the Doctor have such a terrible expression on his face in all the time she had known him. She began to tremble all over.

"Doctor, what is it?"

When he didn't respond, Martha shook his arm violently. "Doctor, tell me! What's happening?"

The Doctor slowly turned toward her and looked her in the eyes. His eyes were even more terrible than his face.

"Martha, time and space has just been torn apart."

Tuesday, November 12, 2013

Remembering Those That Are Gone

I decided to try this thing called Chatterbox made by a blogging friend of a blogging friend.

"Chatterbox is an event to help authors get to know their characters and stories better. I love to talk and I love to write dialog. Chatterbox is, essentially, an exercise in showing your character via the way he or she speaks. It's fun, it is sassy, it is simple. Each month I will assign a conversation topic and it will be your duty to write a conversation between several of your characters regarding whatever I topic I designated. Who knows? You might even end up with something you'll want to work into your real novel. When you are finished writing your post you will be able to link up with me here at The Inkpen Authoress and we'll have jolly larks reading the wide variety that springs out of the assigned topic."

The topic is death using our characters from NaNoWriMo - but I didn't necessarily write about that because I forgot to read the last bit of the post. However, it sort of came out like that because I decided to theme it on Remembrance Day, since I wrote it then. Enjoy and please tell me what you think!

My legs ached as I hiked up the hill, David beside me.

"You know that you could get us there much faster?" I hinted, only looking at David through the corners of my eyes.

"The soldiers didn't take it easy, did they?" he reminded me in his quiet, trying-not-to-show-you're-stupid-to-your-face way.

"Right..." I let the matter drop into ashamed silence.

So we kept walking up the hill, if it could be called walking. It was a rather steep hill, so it was more like marching at a very slow pace, almost bent double. My mind kept going over my stupid words, making me feel more stupid by the moment.

I felt a little tap on my hand, and I looked toward David as he slipped his hand in mine. He smiled a little, and I smiled faintly in return. Now we went up the hill slightly faster, with David helping me more than I was actually walking.

"Almost there," he assured me.

And, suddenly, we were at the top of the hill. I wiped at my wet forehead and looked at the ground, only wanting to rest.

"Look up, Victoria," David broke into my thoughts. "You have got to see this. It's what we came for, remember?"

I looked up...and gasped.

The valley below was full of crosses and red flowers, with tints of green grass here and there. The image was set off by the blue sky with a few puffy clouds. The sadness and beauty of it all mingled together took my breath away.

"You like it?" I realized that David was looking at me, smiling.

"I do! It's beautiful. But..." I realized something that I had been wondering in my unconscious. "How come there are crosses? I thought that was just an earth thing."

"You thought only earth had been touched by Christianity?" David raised his eyebrows.

I bit my lip, realizing that I had been stupid again. "Umm....well... I suppose that since there are other planets and galaxies with life....I suppose that they could know God, but..."

"It's just seems so different, doesn't it?" he asked, smiling.

I let my mouth drop open.

"Yeah, when I first saw it, I was surprised, too," David assured me. He slipped his hand in mine again. "Do you want to get a closer view?"

I smiled back. "You know I didn't give you the permission to read my mind," I said, bumping my shoulder against his to tease him a little.

He frowned. "Sorry....I thought I would have got it under control by now. It's just a little hard, you know? It's just feels as if sometimes you're shouting your thoughts at me."

"Don't blame yourself. I keep forgetting what you told me about thinking about a closed door and all...but honestly, I don't mind," I told him, pulling his hand to get him to walk faster down the hill.

"You sure?" he asked, his face still looking a little worried.

"This time."

He winked at me, getting my jist. Suddenly, my arm felt as if it were going to be yanked out of its socket as he started running fast down the hill.

"Hey, stop it!" I pleaded. "I'm going to fall."

And, suddenly, we were falling - rather rolling, I should say. Faster and faster when I really wanted to get slower, but also didn't want it to stop. Laughing, we collapsed in a heap at the bottom.

"Now THAT was an efficient way to get down," I gasped. "Too bad we couldn't do that going up."

I got up and dusted myself off. David was already walking down the row of crosses, stopping at each one to reverently read the inscription. I looked around to make sure I hadn't dropped anything. I was about to laughingly join him when I saw that he had frozen in place in front of one of the crosses, fifteen down from the end of the first row. The expression on his face was horribly sad, as if he had just discovered that someone very dear to him had died.

"David - what's wrong?" I hurried to his side.

David made no answer, so I read the inscription for myself.

James Douglas, 350789 - 350821. I know you'll be laughing in Heaven.

"Who was he?" I asked David. "Do you know him? Oh, wait -- that's a stupid question. Of course you do."

"Jimmy..." David suddenly choked out. "Of course I knew him. I've known him since he was a baby."

He looked at me, his eyes full of tears. "Victoria - he was my son."

Sunday, November 3, 2013

My Plans for NaNo


I seem to start a lot of posts with 'so', just to let you know. (Hey, that rhymed!)

As some of you may know and many will probably not, for the last year or two, I have been a complete loser when it comes to writing. High school and college have almost forced writing out of my life with all the work I have to do. When I do have time to relax, it's usually to watch an episode of Doctor Who or something like that.

So for this year's NaNoWriMo, I'm not doing anything fancy. I'm not going to write a novel. Heck, I'm not even going to force myself into working only on one singular novel idea. I am going to work on any story idea that comes to my head because bad habits are hard to break. It's going to be hard for me to start writing again. I'm going to use this wonderful little website called 750 Words. And, no, I'm not writing 750 words a day. I know that I don't always have time to write, so I'm going to strive for 750 x 30 = 22500 words this month. That probably sounds like nothing to the rest of you amazing writers, but I'm a weird case.

If I manage to get to my goal (which I sort of doubt - yeah, that's how much out of shape I am) - I'll try a 1000 x 30 = 30000 word goal next month.

And maybe I'll tickle my weaknesses and bribe myself by deciding to buy one of those delicious white-chocolate chip cookies at school. Maybe.

This is why I can't stand to have my sister looking over my shoulder as I write. She corrects my grammar ALL THE TIME.

Tuesday, October 15, 2013

A Thief in Storybrooke - 3

A sudden buzzing sounded in the car, and Emma looked towards the bug receiver clipped on her dashboard with a look of surprise. When she had discovered that old abandoned shed in the wood, she had decided to plant a bug there because it seemed a good place for any criminal activity to happen; however, she had thought it was a lame idea at the time.  Now somebody was there - perhaps it was Gold! Feeling like it was her lucky day, Emma made a U-turn, not caring if anyone was watching or not, and sped back in the opposite direction. She pressed a button on the bug to turn the sound on.

There was a strange noise that sounded like something heavy being dragged along a floor, and then there was a noise as if whatever - or whoever - had been dragged was dumped somewhere in a corner. Then a ripping noise that reminded Emma distinctly of the times when Luke and Adam, two bratty boys she had had to live with in one of many of the foster homes she had stayed in, had pulled duck tape from each other's mouths in unison. They had thought it funny, but this noise sent a chill down Emma's spine, especially with the moan that came along with the ripping noise. So there was a prisoner in the abandoned shed!

Emma accelerated as much as she dared.

"Please," a low male voice begged over the receiver. "I can explain."

Emma furrowed her brow. The voice sounded familiar, but she couldn't quite place it. She felt frustrated with herself. Shouldn't she know all the voices by now in a puny town? This wasn't the city, for God's sake!

A scraping of a chair being dragged across a floor.

"Well," came the chilling voice of a person that Emma all too well recognized. "Well, that is just...fascinating."


Monday, October 14, 2013

A Thief in Storybrooke - 2

I'm trying to add in some backstory in here, and I'm probably going to fail at doing it properly. So bear with me, please.

Contrary to what Emma thought, Mr. Gold didn't even realize that he was being followed. The changing of streets to throw anyone off his trail was second nature to him, which was probably a good thing because his emotions were running too high to be able to be paying much attention to what he was doing. The prime emotion was an intense hate that coursed through his entire body.

The "borrowed" van (he was going to return it tomorrow, of course - provided that the owner was still alive) jolted as it passed over one of those nasty potholes in the road. Usually, Mr. Gold would grimace and turn his angry thoughts towards Regina, the mayor of Storybrooke. However, this sharp movement fueled the burning fire in his head. He hoped that the prisoner in the back of the van was getting bruised.

Gold could never forget what the so-called Moe French had done to her. How he had caused her death. How that beautiful blue-eyed girl would be living right now if only that bastard-of-a-father hadn't shunned her. Of course, French didn't even know he had a daughter. He didn't remember his past. Neither did all of the people living in this town - except for Regina and himself, being granted this special right by the latter. But that wasn't the point now. That didn't matter, only what he was going to do to Moe French once he reached their destination.

His mind wandered to another world, one in which he had a lot of power - even more than he did now. The reason that was because he had magic then. He was the Dark One, and the kings of all the lands surrounding the Enchanted Forest would beg him for help. Of course, that meant that he would only help if he would get something in return. He would let them grovel a bit, and then he would strike up one of his marvellous deals - one that would really only benefit him, and cause only grief for the other party.

The whole thing started when King Maurice had sent an urgent summons to him, begging for help against strong invaders. The Mr. Gold of that world (but that was not his name there) had rubbed his hands in delight. He already knew what he was going to ask in return - he had heard of the beauty of King Maurice's daughter, Belle. His excuse? He had needed a housekeeper for some time, and Belle seemed the perfect fit.

In the end, King Maurice had to give in when Belle agreed to go in order to save her family and friends. Very courageous was what King Maurice's people probably thought of the girl. Very silly, he thought of it.

Then things changed around the Dark Castle. Belle was averse to his treatments of prisoners and those who stole his things. The problem was, he found his heart warming to this beautiful girl who reminded him of the days back when he was like any other man, and had a sense of morality. And then the day came when Belle tried to show him that she loved him. But he refused it, for that would get rid of his power. Belle left, and tidings had come to him that Maurice had shunned his daughter's presence for having agreed to go with such a beast, and that Belle had died because of this.

He was cruel to her, Regina almost laughed when she told him the news. He locked her in a tower and sent in clerics to cleanse her soul with scourges and flaying. After a while, she threw herself off the tower. She died.

You're lying, he said calmly, but inside, he knew it was true, and any of the love that Belle had placed there was starting to die again.

Am I?

Sunday, October 13, 2013

A Thief in Storybrooke

This is a fanfiction, but I hope those of you who haven't watched/read the story won't treat it like one, and get immersed in it. This is a first draft. Please comment, as it helps me a lot. Thanks. :)

Emma Swann, sheriff of Storybrooke, was on the trail of an elusive criminal. Or at least, that's what her guts were telling her. Of course, it was a very serious thing to suspect the owner of a town of foul play. And even though Mr. Gold had been the victim of a robbery just this afternoon, she still had a suspicion deep down that there wasn't something quite right about this whole business. When she had recovered the stolen articles and shown them to him in the afternoon, he wasn't appreciative of her effort it all. In fact, he had stated that the stolen items weren't all there and had acted as if the missing thing or things were more precious than all of the valuables put together. Even stranger was his reaction to her promise that she would find who the believed thief was, Moe French, a flower seller.

"Yeah, if I don't get to him first."

Not exactly something an innocent person would say.

Those words chilled her now. And that is why she was trailing French's Flower's van right now. The driver? Mr. Gold himself.

The problem was, Emma was pretty sure that Mr. Gold had caught on to her. He was beginning to take different turns as if an attempt to catch her off her guard. And it wasn't like Emma was stalking him in an obvious way. Her training had made her elusive and cunning. But the thing was, Mr. Gold was cunning, too - perhaps more clever than herself. Emma had never met anyone who was her match until now.

"Dang it!" Emma cursed under her breath. The lights changed red, but not before the van sped through them. It would be foolish to try following now, as that would make Gold even more suspicious. No, she would have to wait and pray to God that she hadn't lost him.

It seemed years before the lights finally changed and Emma was able to move again. Just like she had suspected, Gold was gone. Now it was up to her cleverness and a lucky chance to find him again.

Emma glanced down the left and right roads before speeding ahead towards a wooded area on the edge of town.

Tuesday, October 8, 2013


After that long break from writing from the beginning of Grade 12 till now, I feel almost dry. Writing doesn't come as naturally to me anymore. I have to force myself to actually write. I feel as if a big part of me is missing. So bear with me. 

I have a request for you. I'm going to try writing again, but I need help. Can I get some critiques, advice, and comments? I need help to get back on this road again. And if any of you have any writing prompts to throw at me, I'd really appreciate that, too.

Let's get this thing started.

Friday, September 27, 2013

A Chipped Cup ~ Poem

As you've probably all seen, I've made some changes to this blog. I've wanted to do these changes for a while. I don't promise that I'll be writing often...we can't force creativity, you know. ;)

I don't consider myself to be good at poetry...but here's my try at a fanfiction-y type of poem. Please let me know what you think. :)

To people who don't know
It's just a cup
The last left of a tea set
A small chip on one side

But for him
It holds memories
That are too hard to remember
Too hard to bear
But yet also sweet
Bitter - sweet

A young girl
With brown hair
And blue eyes

She wanted to break
The spell over him
She could have dispelled
The evil over him
If only he had let her

But now that he
Realizes the truth
It's too late
Too late
And she's gone

A chipped cup
Holds too many memories

Monday, August 26, 2013

Thank Goodness High School Is Over (aka ROBOTIC)

I wrote this as a very tired Alyianna during exam time in June. I didn't think I was going to post this, but I decided to anyway.

Swipe, swipe. My hand moves a cloth rhythmically over the kitchen floor. Rhythmically and automatically.

They have succeeded. I am now a robot, good for nothing but poring over textbook and chunking out test scores for my parents. It's not for me anymore - I'm too tired and despondent and too robotic to think about that.

They've made me into the new woman, made in their image. I'm ready to listen to and then spew out any propaganda they tell me. But I when repeat it, it's in a tired voice. Who cares about Hobbes and Locke and Rousseau and Smith?

Monday, August 5, 2013

Writing Adjectives: Dry

It's like being devoid of any more emotionally uplifting thing, such as something so beautiful you smile and cry at the same time. Any such thing is sucked out of you, like a vacuum just had a go at your heart. It's kind of like when I get that eczema-like thing on my right hand when I wash my hands too much and/or forget to put on my medicated lotion. Except it's around my heart.

It starts when something happens you don't like...and then the little thing start to irk you, and then you feel like everything's gone wrong. And then you can't remember the last time you felt happy. It's just one of those days.

People around you tell you not to be so grumpy, but all you feel like to doing is sitting around feeling sorry for yourself. Or perhaps, to cry.

Wednesday, May 29, 2013

An Empty Heart & a Chipped Cup - Chapter Three

Sorry it's been a little while. Unfortunately, this is as much as I've written of this fanfiction at the moment - hopefully I'll be able to write more soon. I have a school project to finish up in the next two weeks, and then exam period starts. Yeah, I think this Keeping-My-Sanity project is slowing down to an almost stop. :P Anyway, enjoy the next chapter and PLEASE let me know what you think!

Chapter Three: Rumpelstiltskin

Rumpelstiltskin offered his arm to King Maurice's daughter with mock politeness and led her out of the room. She stayed silent and did not question, but Rumpelstiltskin knew that she was most likely wondering how they were going to get out of the castle. He, of course, knew that it wasn't going to be a problem, him being the Dark One. He had already used his mind to put a protective shield around the castle.

As soon as they stepped outside the castle, Rumpelstiltskin could already see the difference from the scenery that had been outside earlier on. The soldiers and ogres had disappeared - no traces of blood or any other indicator of a battle remained on the ground. One ogre was wandering around with a confused look on its ugly face, but Rumpelstiltskin snapped his fingers at it, and it shriveled away into dust.

The black carriage was waiting inside and Rumpelstiltskin motioned for Belle to get inside before him. Then he got in and they were on their way. The entire ride back to the Rumpelstiltskin's castle was silent. Belle didn't look like she were interested in talking with him, and Rumpelstiltskin didn't feel much up to talking, either. He felt a little awkward as he watched her looking despondently out of the window on her left out of the corner of his eye. He had destroyed her dreams, taken her family and friends away from her.

Rumpelstiltskin's carriage
But what was he to do? A deal was a deal...and contrary to his joking tone, he did really need a housekeeper.

Why did he feel guilt? He was the Dark One - he shouldn't feel like this. He should be glad when he did something to get what he wanted. He had given up everything for this. What was happening to him?

To get his mind off these uncomfortable questions, Rumpelstiltskin continued to study Belle out of the corner of his eye. Her blue eyes were glazed over in contemplation, her petite face resting on a pale arm as she gazed into nothingness out the window. A lock of her brown hair had fallen onto her face, but she hadn't noticed it yet. Rumpelstiltskin had to admit to himself that she was beautiful, perhaps even more beautiful than...

No. Rumpelstiltskin shook himself out of his reverie with a scowl on his face. He couldn't go back to those painful memories. Not ever. He had his deals to think of...his things to look at and treasure. A silly girl shouldn't muddle his brain like this.

Rumpelstiltskin contemplates
The carriage jolted and then stopped. Belle slowly came out of her daze and her eyes focussed on Rumpelstiltskin.

"Are we there?" her voice was filled with so much loneliness, pain, disgust, and despair all rolled into one that the ice on his heart almost warmed again and Rumpelstiltskin had to take a hold of himself before he could answer her.

"Yes." He tried to snap at her, but he couldn't.

He swung himself out of the carriage and didn't try to help her out. Once Belle was standing next to him, Rumpelstiltskin snapped his fingers at the carriage and the horses turned around and began trotting towards their hidden stable.

Belle followed him, trying to catch up to his long stride as he led her into the Dark Castle, through a few doors, up a staircase, and through more doors.

Entering the Dark Castle
He knew where everything was, of course, but he could tell from the confused look that he saw on Belle's face out of the corner of his eyes that the castle was like a maze to her.

"Where are you taking me?" Belle finally broke the silence as they left a finely-furnished room and entered into a plain stone corridor.

"Let's say - Europe," Rumpelstiltskin answered her back, sarcastically. He was still trying to get a hold on himself again, and he found that getting back into the sentiments of the "Dark One" was helping him. So he opened the first door that they came to and stepped aside so that Belle could look into her new room.

Rumpelstiltskin felt his old strength coming back to him as he saw the shock on Belle's face. The room was scantily furnished, and while it was a lot better than any servant's quarters, it was a big downgrade from a princess' room.

"My...room?" Belle faltered.

"Well, it sounds a lot nicer than dungeon, doesn't it?" Rumpelstiltskin told her in a nasty tone.

He gave her a quick shove into the room, closed the door, and locked it. With a laugh that he had heard an old peasant woman describe as "so creepy it gave her the chills", he realized that he was back to his old self again. With growing pleasure, he strode away from the locked door. He would let the wench out later.

"You're not going to leave me in here!" Belle's gasp was muffled quite a bit by the thick door. "Hello? HELLO?"

Friday, May 24, 2013

An Empty Heart & a Chipped Cup - Chapter Two

Chapter Two: Belle

Belle watched her father worriedly. King Maurice studied a map, his advisors behind him. Her fiancee, Gaston, was also looking at the map intently, his bushy brown brows furrowed together.

"The ogres are coming closer, Your Majesty," Maurice's top advisor stated. "Do you think we can hold them off?"

"Ogres are not men," said Maurice, wearily.

"If only he had come," Gaston's voice had no hope in it. Belle knew very well who he was talking about. Rumpelstiltskin...the Dark One...the most powerful man in all of this land. The only person who could help them because of his power.

"Well, he didn't," Maurice's voice was full of hate for the one creature who could have helped him, but didn't. He sat on his throne and buried his face in his hands.

Belle's heart went out to her father; she desperately wanted to make him feel better. Women were supposed to be seen and not heard, just like children, but she was a daring young woman. She knelt down at her father's feet and voiced her thoughts aloud, a little timidly.

"He could be on his way right now, Papa."

Maurice lifted hs head up to look at his beloved brunette daughter. He looked straight into her lovely blue eyes, and opened his mouth to tell her the desperate truth. No use hiding it from her.

"It's just too late, Belle." His voice was weary. "It's just...too late." He raised out a hand to stroke her head to try to comfort her for the last time.

Suddenly, a great banging broke out, as if someone were trying to break the door down by knocking on it. Everyone jumped, Belle and Maurice to their feet.

Belle's blue eyes filled with hope. "It must be him! It HAS to be!"

Gaston, however, was not convinced. "How could he get past the walls?" he marvelled.

"Open the doors!" Maurice commanded. They all drew near as two knights removed a wooden piece from the door which had been put in place to protect the royals. Gaston drew out his sword.

The knights threw the doors open. Standing there was...no one. One of the advisors started to cry out, "Whaa...?" and then stopped himself. Belle looked at her father as if to ask him the question that was on everyone's minds: Who could have been at the door who would have gone away right afterwards?

"Well, that was a bit of let-down," came a voice from behind them.

Everyone swivelled around. Sitting on Maurice's throne was a freak-ish-looking man. His hair almost looked as if it were made of snakes, his skin looked like the rough skin of a toad with gold specks on it. His jacket was made of red leather, the collar standing straight up. The shirt underneath was made of a silver and black design.

It was Rumpelstiltskin himself.

They were all still gaping at this creature, so Rumpelstiltskin went on.

"You sent me a message?" he prodded. "Something about 'Help, help! We're dying! Can you save us?' " he mimicked in a way that would have been almost funny if the situation weren't so dark.

Gaston had pointed his sword towards the creature, and now Rumpelstiltskin stood up towards it.

"And my answer is..." He slapped at the flat of Gaston's sword to make the young man lower it. "...Yes."

Belle suddenly realized she had been holding her breath. It came out now in a woosh.

"Yes, I can protect your little kingdom," Rumpelstiltskin assured them with a devilish grin on his face. He stalked a little farther down the room, and then turned around and faced the king and his daughter. "For a price."

"We sent you a promise of gold," King Maurice took a brave step towards the creature. His plump face was pleading.

"Ah...but you see, I make gold." Rumpelstiltskin winked at the king. "So that obviously wouldn't be worth anything to me. What I want is something a bit more special."

To Belle's horror, the face of a devil looked right at her and an all-powerful finger pointed at her. "What I want - is her."

"No!" King Maurice looked at Rumpelstiltksin with a look of disgust on his face.

Gaston put a protective arm on Belle's shoulder. "The young lady is engaged....to me."

"I wasn't asking if she was engaged," Rumpelstiltskin mimicked Gaston's deep voice. "I wasn't asking for her...love," he added, the last word coming out in a tone of almost disgust. He crossed the little group again and then turned and faced them.

"I'm looking for a caretaker, for my rather large estate." He made a flourish with his hands. "It's her...or no deal."

"Get out," the king hissed. When Rumpelstiltskin made no move, the king shouted, "Leave!"

"As you wish," Rumpelstiltskin began to walk towards the door, his back as straight, his stride as straight and proud as if HE were the king, and not Maurice.

Belle could feel nothing but horror. This creature wanted her as a servant - the only thing she could think about on that matter was disgust. But this was the only chance from saving her family and friends from becoming ogre food. The only thing standing in between life or death for them was her.

"Wait!" she almost shrieked the words in her anxiety and desperation to make this foul creature stay and hear her words.

Rumpelstiltskin paused in mid-stride.

Belle ducked from underneath Gaston's arm and hurried towards him. "I..." the words caught in her throat, but she needed to get them out. HAD to get them out. "...I will go with you."

His eyebrows lifted in almost surprise. "It's for forever, dearie."

Belle had to take a good grip on her almost-failing courage in order not to scream or faint or do anything of the sort. "My family..." She tried to hide the hesitation in her voice. "My friends...they will all live?"

The vile creature made another flourish with his hands. It irritated Belle very much. "You have my word."

"Then you have mine," Belle said, quietly. She hated the words coming out of her own mouth, but relished them also a little bit in the back of her mind. Now that this was over with, she felt a little bit like one of the heroes in her books. Well, they were always men, of course, but, well...

Rumple's "mock horror" face
"No!" Belle turned to see her father's face pale and aghast. "Belle, I can't let you go with this...this beast," he pleaded, the last two words spat towards Rumpelstiltskin with much hate and disgust in them. The beast in question opened his mouth in mock horror, rolling his eyes to the ceiling. Belle didn't find it funny in the least.

Belle stroked her father's arm with love. "Father...Gaston...it's been decided," she told the two men with a firmness in her voice that almost surprised her.

"You know...she's right." Belle was filled with disgust to realize that Rumpelstitlskin's voice was coming from a place right behind her.

Belle was sure that everyone in the room was feeling the same final-ness as she as Rumpelstiltskin said the words that ended the conversation.

"The deal...is struck."

Originally from: http://www.quibblo.com/quiz/iw4Zrne/An-Empty-Heart-a-Chipped-Cup?story_chapter=2

Wednesday, May 22, 2013

An Empty Heart & a Chipped Cup - Chapter One

Since there is a problem with Quibblo links, I will start posting my fanfiction on here. :) I hope you enjoy, and please comment to tell me what you think! This chapter is a shorter one than the three I've written so far.

Chapter One: Rumpelstiltskin

Rumpelstiltskin wasn't watching the view outside as his black carriage rumbled on towards the castle that was coming closer and closer by. Even though there was a war going on, nobody would dare touch his carriage. Nobody would dare cross the Dark One.

He had taken on the position a long time ago, the only reason being for the power. Maybe it was also to try to forget Milah, the wife he had loved so much but who had been stolen away from him by the villainous Captain Hook. Well, Rumple HAD gotten on Hook's bad side by stealing his wife...but that gave Hook no right to take away his beloved Milah.

Then, to get that power, Rumple had had to abandon his beloved son, but one had to make sacrifices to get power, right? This time, he would be so powerful that he wouldn't have to feel the pain of losing someone. No one could defeat him, even the Evil Queen had to bow to him. If people wanted to get away from something nasty, they would ask Rumple to help them in return for something. And Rumple never refused because he LOVED making deals. He would never let anyone leave their end of the deal...otherwise, their lives would be made very nasty. That was the reason Rumple had taken Hook's wife away from him...he hadn't kept his end of a deal.

Now, he was travelling to the place of his next deal. King Maurice had sent a desperate message to him for help. He had added a postscript saying that he would give Rumple much gold in return for his efforts. Rumple, however, didn't want the gold. He had a much better idea, in fact...

Originally from: http://www.quibblo.com/quiz/iw4Zrne/An-Empty-Heart-a-Chipped-Cup


Friday, May 17, 2013

Keeping-My-Sanity Writing Project [UPDATE: WRONG NUMBERS]

The title may seem crazy (how ironic), but the idea isn't. I know that I'm plunging into a last month of getting high school done soon...in fact, the work is already picking up. So, in order to keep sane, I'm going to try to make sure I do something actually productive in the little free time I have - writing. Even if the schoolwork load gets hectic and insane, at least my free time will be structured and controlled, right? ;)

I decided to choose a goal of 60, 000 words by the end of June. If I get more, whoop-dee-doo! If I get get less...well, that's what I'm expecting. How did I decide on this word count? Well, I thought that 1000 words a day isn't too big a goal, and I multiplied that by 30 and decided 30,000 sounded too tiny (and, anyway, I have more than a month).

So here it goes - I can write on anything I want, whether it's a novel idea (such as my fairy tale novel or my historical novel ideas), a novel I've already started (FOTN), or the lowly fanfiction type (okay, okay, they're fun to write - I have several started: my Bridge to Terabithia one...my Rumple/Belle one *wink wink*...the LOTR fanfiction idea I got several years ago but haven't been brave enough yet to start...or I could [oh, horrors! or not...] get back to my Haylor one ;) )

So please wish me luck! If you have anything to "donate" - ideas, writing projects of your own (it would give me a break to read someone else's work), a virtual hug, etc., then send them over.

Oh, dear. Treskie's habit of starting each blog post with "so" is very contagious...now I have the habit to start every paragraph with "so". ;)

Marianne of FOTN

Belle & Mr. Gold - also my Quibblo user picture ;)


Saturday, May 4, 2013

Yet Another WIP Idea (Yes, I have too many)

OUCH! It's been a loooong time since I've update here. But it is because I haven't had really much time to write or research lately. Actually, I have. But I've got caught up in reading and fangirling over new TV shows and movies and the like. I am hoping to get back to researching soon - or writing something on my newest book idea. *sigh* Yeah, I know. Too many good ideas out there. ;) And this idea came from inspiration from the things I was doing when I could have been writing - watching clips from the TV show Once Upon a Time.

Things have gone downhill for Maude ever since her mother remarried after an annulment. However, it wasn't so bad. Her real father still sends her wonderful presents and takes her on trips. However, when he dies, to her horror, her own mother seem to care for her anymore, but only for her twelve stepbrothers. Maude finally decides to run away, her favourite brother joining her. However, either the outside world is a replica of  fairy tales, or Maude's going crazy.

There's a little excerpt I wrote yesterday. This story is based on a few things - how I imagine the life of a friend of mine could be if her life got so bad that she had to run away (yes, this is a Catholic friend whose mother got an annulment). Also the tale of Beauty and the Beast with some other fairy tale elements mixed in. Such as...three brothers who are having trouble with a corrupt realtor (guess what fairy tale that's based on!)

I chose the name Maude because I wanted it to be something old-fashioned. I gave Maude twelve brothers to slightly base it on the fairy tale with a girl who has twelve brothers and her stepmother turns her brothers into geese, the girl having to knit shirts from nettles to turn them back into men again. Well, I'm not having that part in my story - or it might be a cool idea, actually. I'll have to think about that. :)

The Beast is a young man named Baen who has a tendency to turning to terrible rages when he doesn't get what he wants. I'm trying not to, but I keep having Robert Carlyle's Rumpelstiltskin in mind whenever I think of Baen. Why did I name him Baen? Well, I wanted to name him Bae after Rumple's son in OUAT, but that would be stealing. So I added an "n" at the end, and perhaps that's only a nickname. That's another thing to think about.

I was going to make Maude have brown hair, perhaps with red highlights, but then I looked through some pictures of friends, and I found one girl friend of mine who looks very Maude-ish - she has blond hair. That also works because most of my characters seem to have brown hair (I think it's because I wish I had brown hair :P). Then I've got another friend who has red hair and is very lovely. This could also be a chance to show that not everyone with red hair has a temper because Maude certainly doesn't.

I also found a guy friend who could be Baen. He has brown hair and some identifying facial spots.

So...what do you lovelies think? :)

Saturday, April 13, 2013

Awesome Writer #1

I came across this lovely story on a post today, and I just HAD to share it all with you. Furthermore, I decided to make an entire tag for awesome bloggers/writers I love so that I can share more with you in the future!

Awesome Writer #1 is Una Mariah. I have been following her writing the last couple of days. Rather she has been having some trouble with her characters, but A: It's interesting to read about and B: We all have these problems from time to time, don't we?

Today, Una posted a story she had written in which her characters talk about her. There's the good guy...and the evil lady. Una explores the topic of how our characters think of us. Do they feel like we've abandoned them sometimes? Or do they keep hoping that good always defeats evil?

Read this awesome post.

Wednesday, April 3, 2013

Villains in May: Daniel Hill

Soo...now that I have the writing blog up, I decided that I would go look for the posts of Beautiful People. What is Beautiful People, you ask? Well, it is this writing interview-ish thing  made by two blogger friends, Georgie and Sky, who make up questions every month that are a good writing exercise (AND have given me some plot ideas as I've done them :P).

But when I went to go find the newest monthly post, I found out that Georgie and Sky have put the posts off for now until they have more time to do them. So I thought that I might as well use one of the old posts as a writing exercise, since I haven't done it yet, anyway.

The post I found first was a question post about the villains of our stories that was posted in May of last year. And that's where I came up with the title. My sister Mia (age nine) who is standing watching me do this post doesn't think much of the name...I hope some of you might like it. :)

I am going to answer these questions with the villain of my major WIP, Daniel Hill. Why did I name him that? Well, part of it was the laziness on my part - I just wanted to think of a quick name. But actually, it's not too bad because it sounds like the name of any normal guy...right? That's just what I want you to think...because appearances are deceiving. Oh, they are so deceiving.

Without further ado, let's go on to the questions!

I envision Daniel looking something like this.

1. What is their motive? & 2. What are they prepared to do to get what they want? Daniel is a person who wants to get what he wants, and he'll do anything he can to reach that goal. Take his life on Earth, for example. He became a priest, pretending to have a calling, to be able to use that innocent position for his own evil purposes. Then his big chance came when the aircraft from Pieno landed on Earth. Since he had sold his soul to the devil to help him get whatever he wanted, it was just a piece of cake for Daniel to get the men on the aircraft under his control...and the people and Ustah (king) of Pieno, when he reached there.
3. Are they evil to the core, or simply misunderstood? Definitely evil to the core. You can already see that by his selling of his soul to the devil.
4. What was their past like? What about their childhood? Was there one defining moment that made them embrace their evil ways? I already gave some of Daniel's past in #1/#2. About childhood or a defining moment, haven't gotten that far yet. I might someday think about that, though.
5. Now that they’re evil, have they turned their back on everyone, or is there still someone in their life that they care for? (Brother? Daughter? Love interest? Mother? Someone who is just as evil as they are?) Nope. He's on his own, and anyone that he might seem to care for, he really is just using to get to his next goal. He works alone.
6. Do they like hugs? HAHA! I would say not. ;)
7. Are they plagued by something? (Nightmares, terrible thoughts?) Not so far as I know. I'll get back to you on that next time I have a chat with Daniel. xD (Actually, check question #9.)
8. Who are they more similar to: Gollum or Maleficent? Maleficent, definitely. Not poor little Smeagol, gollum.
9. If your villain could have their choice of transportation what would it be? Oooh...something big, that draws astonishment and fear from those who see it, and, of course, evil. ;) Maybe a big aircraft/space shuttle. Which would actually tie with my novel idea for what happens after this novel...
10. If you met your villain in the street, how afraid would you be? Are they evil enough to kill their creator? I probably wouldn't even notice him. He would just look like any normal guy. Oh, yes, he believes in God and knows he was created by Him...but he's on the devil's side and views himself as working against God. His one fear is that God will someday catch up with him and make him lose all of what he worked for. But except for God, he views himself as invincible with the devil on his side.

Monday, April 1, 2013

Update AND Excerpt

Sooo...I've been working bits on my newest WIP, though, at the moment, it's been mostly looking at the website of our library and trying to find some books. Since I've got two areas - Napoleonic France and Spain at that same time period - it's not that easy. I was able to find some books that may give me some info about the first subject (which just so happens to be the more minor part of my story), but nothing really at all about Spain. *sighs*

Anyway, here's the excerpt. Enjoy, and let me know what you think! :D

Some people think I am an inanimate object - something that just mimics their looks, something that lets people see whether a hair is out of place or whether their eye shadow is smudged. But some people are believers. They have open minds and they have discovered that I am really magic. Go ahead - test me at home after you read this sentence. But unless you really and truly believe, I’m not going to oblige you.

In what way does my magic work? It depends on my mood and the type of person that is standing in front of me. First, I judge their state of mind. I can see a lot more than you would expect that I can. Then, if that person does have an open mind, then I work my magic.

My most common trick is to let a young person see how they will look in old age - or to give an old person a flashback of their past. Sometimes, I’ll work this on the unbelievers, too, just for fun. If I’m in a good mood, I may soothe a person’s fears and let him or her daydream about something that this person absolutely desires, which is usually love. Or sometimes…no, I’m not going to go into all the details and spill out all my secrets to you. You’ll have to find that out yourself.

But I’ll tell you one more thing - if I find a person who is very special (which is very rare, mind you), I may even open a portal to the past.

Isn't dealing with inanimate objects that are animate in your story fun? ;) (Yes, I got the idea from The Book Thief.)