Quotable Sundays

"The purpose of a storyteller is not to tell you how to think, but to give you questions to think upon." 
~Brandon Sanderson, The Way of Kings

As Long Promised. . .

I am a very stubborn girl.

As such, I have become frozen at the idea of sharing an actual story that I've completed.

I have, though, promised to share my novel Shadow Wings as I edit it.

I shall keep my promise.

I hope to blog later on what I was concentrating on when I was working on editing it.

Without further ado

Ladies and Gentlemen,

I give to you Shadow Wings, Chapter one, part one.

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Chapter One

The sun streams in over my pillow as the curtains slowly rise.

“Time to get up.” The electronic alarm says by my head from its place on the bedside table. I groan and turn my head as I shield my eyes with my arm.

“Time to get up.” It repeats. Eight loud beeps sound by my ear, and I fling my pillow at it as I sit up. It stops. 

I groan and crumble back down, curling under my blankets.

“Time to get up.” It sounds again. I sit up and glare at it. The holographic image of an alarm clock with a cheerful face grins at me.

“Good to see your face,” It says before returning to its normal function of showing the time.

“Good to see yours too,” I snidly snap back.

I scoot off the bed and feel around with my feet for the slippers mom had bought for me last night. Finding them and slipping them on, I plod towards the bathroom that was across the hall.

I look into the mirror and groan. I look like a black haired Medusa. I angrily grab my hairbrush from the counter and attacked my hair with a vengence, ignoring the horrible sounds it is making. I need to look decent. I glare back at my image.

After completing my hygene, I return to my room and change into a pair of loose jeans and an old, faded blue t shirt.

I pause for a second outside of mom and dad's door; I can hear their uninteligible voices inside, arguing. Again.

I continue to the kitchen. What would they be fighting over this time? Staying here? Do they need to buy another car part? What could possibly be wrong again?

I open the fridge, the cool air brushing my face and sending shivers up and down my back. I grab a bowl of oatmeal that mom and I had made last night and put it on a warming plater. A touch pad pops up and I type in 'oatmeal, left over'. The pad slides down to its resting place and a glass shield, shaped like half a sphere, slides over. After a minute it rolls off revealing my oatmeal, all nice and piping hot.

Using some pot holders that were hanging by the stove, I pick up my oatmeal and place it on the table.

The muffled voices raise for a moment; I strain to hear them as I poor some milk into my bowl. They lower again, and I return to my food.

It doesn't take me long to finish eating. Standing up fast with my bowl and the carton of milk, I tip over the awkward kitchen chair. Mom's head peaks in seconds later as I try to juggle my dishes and pick up the metal chair with my foot. Her stormy eyes are giving away her excitement, even though her face is strait.

“You okay, honey?” Mom asks, obvieously hiding something behind the wall.

I nod and smile at her, all the while trying to not be obvious while glancing oddly at her.

“Okay. Can you please wash what's in the sink as well as your breakfast dishes?”

I nod again.

“Sure, Mom.”

She turns back around and walks back down the hall. Moments later the sound of arguing once again continues.

I turn to the sink; it's full of last night's dishes; we had chinese takeout.

It takes me a moment to figure out how to use the shiny high tech sink, but I have perfect warm and sudsy water soaking the dishes pretty quickly.

I splash the washcloth down into the water.

The cool autumn sun streams through the kitchen window, gleaming off of the dishwater. Voices rise again and I rub my forehead with my sudsy right hand. Why won't they ever stop?

They stop suddenly and I hear footsteps. I hurriedly scrub at the dishes in the sink.

“Kallie?”

I turn and face Dad.

“Yes Dad?”

“I- Well, we are-” Dad rubs his charcoal hair; it's becoming flecked with silver.

“We've decided to give you an early birthday present.” Mom calls out from their room, saving dad from anymore stuttering.

“Wait, what?” I turn completely around, feeling with my right hand for the towel.

“Well,” Dad scratchs his neck, “ We decided to give you an early birthday present.”

This doesn't sound right. As in, what?

“What?” I stare at him with my mouth still slightly open. Mom's head pops around the corner and she takes a picture of me before coming all the way into view.

“You heard him.” She said, looking at me accusingly. “Here.” She hands me the camera that she had just used.

It's a 2014 Cannon Digital, classic black and silver. It's a bit smudged, but that's to be expected from an antique.

“Thanks.” I stare at it then back up to mom and dad, my mouth unable to close all the way.

“Well, don't just stand there holding it. Go take some pictures!” Mom's grin is finally stretching from ear to ear as she takes away the towel that I have in my hand and pushes me back to my room.

I finally grin back before I run to my room. There, I sat down on my bed and scroll through the different settings, shutter speeds, filters, on and on. I spend a blissful half an hour in blessed solitude.

An ear splitting sound, something between a classic horn honk and an angry goose, comes in through the walls. I look out the window to see a neighbor pulling into his house next door in a brand new, super shiny huver car. I groan and turn away. Why oh why did we have to leave that house in Crawford, Minnesota?

The sunlight filters in through the light, summer curtains. I stare at it as it plays patterns on the rich, plain brown rug. I look outside again and grin.

The bus stop.

Yesterday, when we'd first arived, I'd noticed that by the bus stop was a small area full of trees with a little pond and one park bench. It seemed very out of place after seeing all of the tall city buildings, but it was still very quaint, even appearing beautiful, with the changing colors of the leaves. Basically a hidden park.

After digging around for a few minutes, I find my creativity bag with my creative journal and coloring pencils and pastels. Pausing for a minute by my semi-unpacked suit case, I quickly unbury one of my favorite sweaters and hurry down the hall.

I peer into the open door of my parents room, but it's empty. The bed nicely made, and everything. After a few minutes of searching, I find mom on the porch swing fiddling with a book.

“Mom?”

She looked up, her brow furrowing.

“Yes?”

“I'm going down to the bus stop to take some pictures.” I grin excitedly.

Mom tries to smile, but her eyes aren't in it.

“Well, um-” For once, mom isn't giving a straight answer. She looks over my shoulder as I feel the weight of a hand on my shoulder.

“We'd like it better if you stayed within sight.”

Dad's breath makes the loose whisps of my hair move. I turn and grin at him.

“I'm always careful, dad. Besides, I have the spray.” I open the flap of my bag to reveal a can of hornet spray. “I'm prepared.”

I turn and head down the porch steps.

“Be safe.” Mom says.

I turn and shake my head as I walk backwards.

“I'm prepared, Mom!” I wave and turn around, breathing in the sharp clean air.

Oh, the beauty of Autumn! The air, the colors, the crunching leaves. I stop my musing suddenly when I almost ran into a light post. Taking out my new camera, I started to capture the beautiful mixes of golds, browns, and greens of the trees changing colors.

“NO!” Mom's scream pierces the air like a knife.

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The entire chapter is ten pages long, and I only posted five.

I'll post the second half tomorrow!

Promise.

Comments are gladly accepted!

Keep on Writing!

God Bless

SDG

Joy

A Long Time Coming

I'm still a pretty new writer.

I've only spent about two years now seriously writing with the hopes of one day being published.

But, just like any other writer, I'm scared to share my work.

So, today I'm sharing. 

The following is a little over two pages long.

It's a scene I wrote over the weekend to explore one of my allies for my WIP, and it took a life of its own.

I'm now super curious about this guy (whose name is Jedrek, by the way).

Maybe after I finish my WIP I'll write his story.

:)

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 Creeping along, I'm staying as close to the shadows as I can. Stemps bumps loudly into me and I wince. Closing my eyes I count slowly. Reaching twenty and hearing no new sounds, we move on. This was going to be a long night.

We reach the road shortly before the distant sound of bells calling Midle Nacht sounds. We hadn't missed it. Motioning to the others behind me to find their places as fast as they can. After all was ready, I sank down to my own spot. We wait.

At half past, the lights appear. Soon we can hear the thundering sound. Thumpen thump. Thumpen thump. Thumpen thump. The sound almost makes me smile, anticipating the food it would bring. Almost.

The coach finally comes fully in sight.

Standing up so as I was almost doubled over with my ragged cloak wrapped tightly around me, I limp my way onto the road while reaching down and throwing dust and dirt on my face. The coach slows to a stop.

"Good Brother of Mork, I command you to move." The driver calls down.

I shake my head and moan. Muttering about something to do with distress and the sky.

"Brother, if you do not move, I will force you to move or be run over."

A sharp exclamation resounds from inside the coach and moments later a brunette sticks her head out of the window.

"Don't you dare, sir! I might be not from here, but I know propriety."

Moments later the door opens and a young woman, dressed in the rich undyed cottons from Calset comes out. Around her neck is a pendant that I can't quite make out, but it is large.

"Good Brother, we need to make port before Soon Rechst. Please, let us pass." She slowly starts walking towards me.

"My Lady, yeh don't know the ways of this place! Get bach in here!" A heavy Divont accent clouds the voice of an older heavyset woman who comes out, anxiously tugging at her sleeves and elbows.

"Cassyl, it's just a Brother."

"Lady, it might look like a brother, but don't let that fool you." The driver barks. "There are Mullocks in these parts. Get back NOW."

The young woman glares up at the coachman and walked over too me.

"I'm protected by Curstall's Light, and it warns me when a Mullock is near by. This is no Mullock. This is a Brother!" Purposefully she reachs down and yank my hood.

With no other choice left, I stand up and grab her as my men pour down from their different locations.

"I warned you Lady!" Barks the coachman as he struggles with a beefy lad, Crooks, for the reigns.

"Yes, you did good sir!" I answer as I hold my dagger to her throat. "Now, if you would like to make the port by Soon Rechst, I will be needing the goods."

The plump older woman, Cassyl, looks around with her eyes wide. "Lady! It's happened! The Prophetess said it would! Lady!"

The young woman audibly groans. "Of course it did Cassyl! Now just shut up and get back into the coach. I'm pretty sure the driver and I can handle this."

I bite my cheek as I try to not groan with her. Of all kinds of coaches to stop this time. Stemps comes into view, a beautiful big bruise blooming on his face.

“Deh ol' miss is armt!”

Sure enough, Cassyl comes into view a few seconds later with a big old lute.

“I don' care what yah do wi' me! Jus' leev deh gurl alun!”

I keep my eyes closely on the woman, trying to keep my mask of calmness in place.

“Don't do anything rash, marm.” I call out.

A thud comes from the coach. I turn my head to catch sight of the coach driver on the ground, big ol' Fronse stands nearby with a big bolder.

“I said no deaths tonight!” I holler at the ox of the lot.

I turn back to the nervous old woman as Stemps walks over to the driver.

“He's not de'd.” Stemps hollers a second later.

The old woman looks ready to faint.

“Yeh don' knur what yah doin'!” She starts to holler at me. “If she goes, we alls goes! If she dies, we alls dies! Yeh have tah let 'er go!”

I shake my head slowly.

“The way your acting, marm, I cannot do that.” The young lady starts to shift slowly and I tighten my grip, sliding the dagger farther up her neck. “Not now, marm.” I whisper in her ear. She glares at me.

“You know, sir, she is right. If they reach the harbor without me, we're counted as dead. All of us. They'd be killed if I don't go with them.”

I look down into her eyes, trying to decipher her own expressionless face.

“I don't want hostages. I want the money.”

She glares up at me. “Cassyl, go give him what he wants.” She calls out in a bland voice.

Cassyl slowly totters over to the coach and comes back minutes later, carrying a small pouch that loudly clinks with her every step.

I nod at Crooks, who gallantly strolls over to her with his hand held out. She throws the bag at him. Hard. The thud sounds very painful.

“Yeh ceen hav' it fer all I care! Jus' let her go!”

I look up to see her face has turned a shade of purple. I looked down again at the young woman.

Undyed Calsetian cotton, highest craftsmanship that I've seen yet, with faint, very worn white embroidery on the edge of the neckline and hem. A pattern resembling the protective symbols that I've seen in Curstallian temples, if my memory is correct. But that was ages ago. The pendant. Of fine craftsmanship as well, and from the faint light, it's made of the Dalian Red Gold. A rim of dark glassy stones, what look both red and black, create a pattern around the edge. A design of fine silver strands and what looks like pearls are intertwined within it. I know where she's from, and she's not going back. Not now that she's seen my face.

“I'm sorry for what I've said before, marm, but I can't let her go now.” I start to back into the shadows with her.

“NO!” Cassyl totters forward a few steps before collapsing on the ground. She tries to stand but her legs are shaking too hard and her arms are as limp as willow branches.

The young woman throws her head back hard, I barely get out of the way in time to keep her from banging my chin.

“Cassyl! Tell Ferdy! Tell him-”

I clamp my hand over her mouth. A sudden shiver of cold trickles down my face. I'd started to sweat back there.

“Fall back to camp!” I holler.

Seconds later my Shadow appears. He'd been gone this whole time.

“Have you finally found a lass, Shadow?” I ask snidely.

The tall man stares blankly at me.

“Well either way, I've found one that needs watching. Don't let her speak, don't harm her, and bring her to camp.”

He nods once, sharply. For the first time I notice the Katzbalger, covered with blood, in his hand. He has it sheathed in a seconds, but the sight lingers.

He'd found a battle, somewhere. Or he'd just went hunting. Which sounds more logical, he hadn't cleaned the blade yet. I'll go with hunting.

I move my blade away from her neck. Within seconds he has her gagged and over his shoulder, completely ignoring the flailing legs.

I finally turn towards home. Who knows how much we have this trip. A possible source of ransom that I know I can't give up. Two witnesses that I told them to not kill. Plus at least one more headache coming from that bloody sword.

A long night indeed.

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Another thing, if you have any questions or comments, please leave them below.

I'll gladly answer the questions, and treasure the comments.

Thanks!

Keep on Writing

God Bless

SDG

Joy 

The Beauty of Revelation

I love that moment when you're almost asleep, and you suddenly understand something.

Whatever you've been trying to figure out for the last few weeks just 'clicks'.

You're mind just puts together the things that you've been reading, and connects the dots.

This weekend I decided to go through my email and read the posts that I've been 'setting aside' from This Page Intentionally Left Blank.
One of them was on back story.

For weeks I've been struggling about possibly showing the reasons why my two villains are villains in my current WIP.

Today my brain made a collision.
Err, connection.

I know why.
AND
I don't have to show why until later.

So Nika has a great distrust of men.
Except she trusts her brother.
I don't have to TELL why, just show that she does.

Casimir has a great hatred for the royal family.
Except he also hates hurting women, especially if they're younger.
I don't have to TELL why, just show that he does.

Needless to say, this is very, very, very helpful.
Back story doesn't have to be shown right away.
Duh.
But that isn't always obvious, or else I wouldn't have had this revelation happen to me.
I hope this helps ya'll in some way!

Keep on Writing!

God Bless,
SDG
Joy

Shadow Wings: A Late Night Update

Folks.

I have done it.

I HAVE EDITED THE FIRST CHAPTER.

And yes, it is better.

800 words longer.

The characters are more human.

Yes, it is better.

When shall I share it?

Hopefully by next weekend! 

Don't worry, I'll share it sometime soon!

The Lord is good!

ALL the time!

Keep on Writing!

God Bless

SDG

Joy

Gypsy Gift

My latest story I'm working on outlining in six words:

I wasn't going to; I did.

Yup.

That about sums it up.

Hopefully I can post more later!

Keep on Writing!

God Bless,

SDG

Joy

Hello Again!

After a long absence, I'm back!

I'm not sure how often I will be, sadly.

School has started again, and my schedule is pretty full.

On top of my usual classes, I'm starting Piano, and possibly a new job.

But, I have found time to write.

As in, write write.

Fiction write.

Edit write.

Outline write.

WRITE!

Between the last 8-9 days, I've written about a thousand words.

I haven't done that much writing while at college before.

I don't think I'll be able to keep it up all semester long, but it has been very enjoyable.

Edit Update:

I have changed the beginning chapter of Shadow Wings from one page of character introduction, to about three and a half to four pages.

I'm very ecstatic about this, as I was very hesitant about how to go about changing it, and over all I'm liking the edits.

Of course they are not perfect, but they are much better.

Outline Update:

Confession: I haven't gotten much farther with Gypsy Gift than when I'd left it about two-three weeks ago.

Another Confession: I have completely, since last working on the outline, changed how I want the two MC's to end up.

Originally, they were love interests, etc.

Now. . . 

Let's just say that I've really made their relationship complicated. 

But I have done a decent amount of world building and minor character building over the last few weeks.

I might even share some of the maps that I've drawn for them, though I need to redraw the first one.

In fact, I'm quite liking some of the latest ones that I've drawn.

So that's what's been happening in my absence.

Hopefully I'll be able to start picking up on some of my old post series' again, or make some new ones.

Keep on Writing!

God Bless,

SDG

Joy

Getting Back in the Groove

College.

It wears you down with loads of homework; essays, speeches, chapters and books that need to be read before class.

Well, I've finished my first semester.

And I passed every one of my classes.

Hurrah!

Now, I have to get back into the groove of living at home.

Even more important, the groove of fiction writing.

Wait, I write in my head all the time, or at least think of writing all the time, so it should be easy.

That.

Is.

Sadly.

Horribly.

Wrong.

I have been home for almost a week, and only tonight have I been able to sit down and put hands to keyboard and get something out.

Oh, I've outlined four chapters (er, more like three and a quarter) in two days.

That much is thankfully true.

Even so, I haven't been able to DO any writing.

I've tried using paper and pencil, my old fall back method, but I just ended up doodling.

Then it hit me.

I've been burying myself in 'writing know-how' for I don't know how long.

College has been beating grammar rules into me, and my free time is constantly filled with reading other writers' blogs and searching for tips on how to make my writing better.

I'd scour Pinterest for pins that had inspirational quotes or pictures full of Plot Bunniez.

All of this was done with good intentions (that will probably help in the long run).

But I wasn't doing anything with them.

They were just information that I was storing in my head and letting sit there.

Today, I didn't do a lick of thinking about writing or any of my stories.

I just drank coffee, knitted and crocheted with a good friend, and worried about Christmas.

I went shopping at a yarn store and drooled over yarn and knitting needles.

I started a new knitting project and finished some old ones.

We complained about what was added to the latest Hobbit movie that wasn't in the book (one in particular was especially odious to us).

I laughed, I knitted, and I completely zoned out from my future worries as much as I could.

I came home, helped cook dinner, and curled up with one of my favorite fantasy novels and just read for pleasures sake.

Just about half an hour ago I wrote 400 words in fifteen minutes.

That is the most that I've written in a very long time, especially for fiction.

Oh, it's not my best writing of course.

It is after all unedited as of now, but I feel so exhilarated that I finally wrote something again.

I sat back after that fifteen minutes, stared at the screen, and thought why?

Why, after all this time of fighting with myself each time I tried to write, I can suddenly do it now?

Well, this is the clearest that I can put my answer.

Because I wasn't really writing.

Oh, I was planning ahead before.

I was plotting, I was learning how to edit, and I was figuring out how to get my work out there.

But I wasn't REALLY putting it into action.

My mind was storing it away, and I'm sure that some of it will come out as I continue my work and show itself to be highly useful.

But tonight, I sat down, looked at my first draft, and started to completely rewrite my first chapter.

I didn't think about grammar other than pressing enter for a new paragraph and putting the proper punctuation in.

I didn't think about how the characters are supposed to look like or act.

I just wrote.

I don't know how I did it; only God could have helped me, as I had decided to give up on my writing for the rest of this week.

I now feel so completely at ease with my writing.

I know now what to do:

Give the final result to God and just write.

Keep on Writing

God Bless

SDG

Joy

And Then It Hit Me

Bam.

There it is.

My reason for procrastination.

How can I write a novel and its sequel, when I only know the main character really well?

Oh, I know other characters' pasts (some of them are quite interesting, others are bland).

I know plenty about personalities, etc.

What I am missing is what they do in the story, interact in it, and change it.

Oh, Raine and Kallie's relationship (originally planned to be very hostile) was a complete surprise to me when they ended up working quite well together.

In fact, I probably should have realized that when they keep on acting like best friends in my mind when I'm writing (seriously).

So, here's my strategy plan:

Don't start editing again until after I have:

A. Gone through a few scenes from different characters PoV

B. Map out where the most important characters are and what they are doing throughout the book

Hah.

THANKS MR. S FOR HELPING ME REALIZE MY PROBLEM!

When Your Perfect Story Falls Flat

Keep on Writing!

God Bless

SDG

Joy

Building Printhia

One Little Step at a Time

As I have hinted at before, there's a story world that I've completely lost my heart to about two years ago. 

It might even have been less than that. 

It's called Printhia. 

After some research, I've found that the name Printhia doesn't seem to have an exact meaning. 

In my mind, it means something along the lines of "The Living Place" or "The Place of Life". 

From now on, I'm hoping to prepare a post over the weekend and publish it on Monday, as something to cheer others up as well as myself. 

Today's Building Printhia: The Beginnings

What started me on this journey? 

Very simply, it didn't have a very clear start. 

I didn't even think of starting to build a world with Fire Elves, MerFolk, Dragons, or Faes until after joining OYAN. 

There, I started to talk with a girl who wrote Dark Fantasy with her own version of elves, fairies, etc. 

In a character chat, I made Ieoie and his family of thieves. 

Then I decided to make him a story, as all fun characters should have one (he is fun, sassy, protective, and a whole lot of other annoying things rolled into one).

Ieoie's story is called The Water Witch's Curse. 

I still am working on getting a premise together for him, sadly. 

Anyways, the basic problem from the title is that he was cursed basically at birth for "Death now haunts his very steps." 

I'm actually a bit scared about working on his story, as it will be darker than a lot of the ones I've actually worked on. 

Then again, a lot of the stories I've thought of lately are darker. . . 

That's an interesting thought to ponder. 

Anyways, no rabbit trails! 

It was with his story idea that I started to work on the different cultures of the Elves, because, well, he's an Elf. 

So, I'll talk a little bit about the elves, and then one exact branch/kind of them. 

You see, there are three kinds of elves; Water, Fire, and Earth Elves. 

Each, at the age of maturity (somewhere between ages twelve and fourteen) an elf's gift is shown according to what kind of elf he/she is. 

Let's start with Ieoie, as he's the first one I made. 

Fire Elves

Ieoie's a fire elf, and his gift is making sparks. 

How does that work? 

Scientifically its actually possible, as he'd be only controlling the vibration of molecules in the air and combining them with oxygen. 

I've always been into making things scientifically accurate, so I'll be adding things like that here and there. 

Another thing that I'd added when I first created them (and I'm glad I did, mind you) is a bag that each elf carries with them. 

Each bag holds the basis of each elf's talent, so in a pinch (or when that elf is very weak) it can be used. 

When all of the bag is used up, it can never be refilled. 

For a fire elf, the bag contains something from/about a fire. 

For Ieoie, his fire bag contains glowing embers that are sparking. 

Each kind of Elf has a different culture. 

The Fire Elves are based off of the Arabic Culture. 

They live mainly in desert like areas, (I really need to work on creating a map for Printhia, but I'm so scared of messing it up!) and, as in Ieoie's case, cities. 

(There are other exceptions, but I'll write about those later, when I write about another story idea for Printhia.) 

Depending on where they are and who they are around the most, their heritage morphs a little. 

Example: Ieoie's family live in the busy merchant city called Limenreel where almost every culture has touched and left a little bit of itself. 

Even so, their women are known for their elegant head coverings, and their men for their unique turbans.

Each being has its own developed religion.
The Elves worship many different kinds, most of them are meant to describe why natural phenomenons happen, kind of like the ancient gods in Egypt, Greece, Rome, and other ancient European cultures.
Their main gods and their symbols are:
Jeshsoot, god of lightning and the giver of rain. Symbol: (in need of a better one, but this is what I have) A lightning staff.
Buhrneet, goddess of love and freedom. Symbol: Blue or white Sand Dollars.
Greeve, god of death and the herder of souls. Symbol: Literally any weapon covered/draped with a black cloth.
Menwageer, god of stories and the guardian of the gate to the soul realm. Symbol: A bent weed

Ieoie and his family mention Jeshsoot from time to time, and in moments of danger exclaim to Greeve or Menwageer.

That is all that I have for now on the Fire Elves. I'll either tell you more next week, or move on to the Earth Elves.

God Bless!
SDG
Joy

Sorry I haven't posted in a while!

I will really, really, really try hard to post something in the next few days. Things have been pretty crazy lately. But, seeing as I haven't posted anything in weeks, I shall quickly post something that happened to me tonight. 

Random character that I don't even know popped into my head while washing dishes tonight, and exclaimed "And THAT is how I saved the world at the age of three years. Or, at least, so I've been told." O.O

I might actually use this odd character someday. . . Whoever this is. 

Has anything like this ever happen to you? Will you possibly use this unknown person in a future writing project? 

Update: Shadow Wings, Chapters One and Two

I want to dig a hole in the ground and hide. 

My second chapter is twice as long as the first chapter with over double the words. The charries all sound exactly as I thought they would, (though Akeem seems much prouder and quieter than he is in my head, go figure) and the story is running pretty smoothly. There are plenty of problems though. The tenses are off, the story is taking a completely different swing than I originally planned it too, and I'm not getting the sci fi stuff in it right! It's hard to describe and write the illusion of reality when you've never really come in contact with anything that is close to it. 

I've also edited the first chapter a lot. Tenses are right now my bane. 

First chapter word count: 998

Second chapter word count: 2,117

Total word count so far: 3,115

Update: Shadow Wings Chapter One

First draft done! 

It's bad. As in, I had my little sister read it, and she was clueless that it was even science fiction. Ouch. But I'm still going on, it's just a first draft. I'll be making lots of notes on it for what needs to be changed. Three pages long when double spaced, much shorter than I first imagined it. That too will probably be remedied when I start editing. . .

I'm not sure exactly what I expected when I first started writing this chapter. Oh, I suppose I WANTED perfection, for the words to just magically show what I saw in my mind,  but that is certainly not what happened. I'll push on, and hopefully I'll finally come up with something I'm willing to post on here.

Word count for chapter one: 923

WHERE DOES THE TIME GO????

That's been going through my head for a VERY long time now. Sad to say, the answer has only just hit me a day or so ago. Pinterest, forums, and sometimes facebook are the culprits. I've been pulling back on my computer time, even for 'writing' on the computer, and I am becoming more productive. I'm almost done with my workbook for OYAN, I'm working on designing my version of mermaids, I'm writing 'outline scenes' for my Beauty and the Beast retelling (I'm calling it Rhoswen for now), and I'm working harder on everyday things now.

I have been literally PLODDING through my workbook. My goal was to have half my first draft done by mid June. Not happening. No where near. Now my goal is to have at least two chapters written by then. That is more reasonable, AND it is coming in sight. Praise the Lord! I am so excited!

MERMAIDS!!! The way they are modernly portrayed is not mermaidish in my head at ALL! I hope to eventually post some pictures that I've been working on sketching. I'm learning so much about how to draw a guy versus a girl! I never noticed before how guys tend to have squarer heads, and girls are more soft lines and features. . . Then again, I've never really payed attention to that sort of thing. As a hint of sorts, I'll just say that my mermaids are based off of Betta Fish (also known as Siamese Fighting Fish), and they carry some of the characteristics like coloring, strength, etc. Its been a lot of fun learning while working on them!

First I'll just explain what I mean by 'outline scene'. When I'm first working on writing a scene, I see it like a movie or picture in my head, but it's stuck there. I can't describe it. So instead of describing it in detail, I tell what they are doing in the scene, sometimes with some dialogue. THEN comes the editing. Descriptions, dialogue, the whole shebang is added during the editing. It works for me. I am in love with my Beauty and the Beast retelling. It is different than a lot of retellings I've seen (Rhoswen is 'connected' to the Beast (who still doesn't have a name) in some way (I won't tell!), Rhoswen has younger siblings as well as older, things like that). It is also similar to some retellings though (A book worm, loves horses, things like that). Those latter ones are mainly items that I could never imagine separated from the story. I'm still brainstorming on some aspects though. . . I'll see what happens.

The house is staying cleaner for longer! Surprise surprise! Well, not really, but it's true. I'm also getting more of the things I love done (like knitting, crocheting, reading). I have to go, but I home to be back soon!

SDG
Joy

A 'Kind of' Character Monday: Jesi

I know it's actually Friday, but hey. I have to get back to doing these. I'm going to try something new today. . . I'm going to put my charrie into a setting, and then I'm going to plop down with her and, well, talk I suppose. :)

Setting: A small park. It is late autumn so it's cold, and not that many people out. It is later in the day, about an hour or so before sunset, so it's getting dark. Jesi (I really need to change her name, it doesn't fit her properly. . . <.< ) is sitting on a park bench wrapped up in a thick woolen cardigan and a floppy hat.

Me: *walks over and sits down* Hey Jesi.

Jesi: *looks up from studying her lap* Hey.

Me: So. . . What do you think?

Jesi: WHAT DO I THINK? Pray tell me more. *glare*

Me: What do you think. . . Of the weather? *nervous smile*

Jesi: *rolls eyes* It's cold. The trees are pretty. *takes a deep breath* It's peaceful. *small smile*

Me: Okay, that's what I'd hope you'd think. *looks down at notebook* What do you think of the name Alessa?

Jesi: I hate it. Why?

Me: *clears throat* No reason. *straightest face* What about Kallie?

Jesi: It's better than Alessa. Why?

Me: *nervously clears throat* I'm looking for a better name for you. Jesi doesn't really fit. . .

Jesi: Oh no. I'm just going to be like so many other charries, and have their names changed again and again. You've already changed my basic storyline multiple times. Now my name?

Me: I detest the name Jesi. . . It's gender neutral, and I hate that kind of name. . . I might want to change the spelling of Kallie though. . .

Jesi: I said no.

Me: But Kallie fits you ten times better!

Jesi: Am I keeping anything?

Me: You're keeping your middle name. Kallie Rose, now THAT sounds pretty! *big grin* It's final. You're now Kallie.

Kallie: O.O

Plain Kate, Bonny Kate, even Cursed Kate, but never as Katharine.

Oh the bliss of reading Shakespeare. The beauty, the poetry, the laughter and tears! Oh my, I've given myself away. I have been reading (yes, even watching!) Shakespeare's plays lately, and have soundly fallen in love with Shakespeare's wit! I must confess I've only read and watched the Taming of the Shrew (of which I laughed so hard over), but I cannot wait to read/watch more! I'm uncertain which one I'll choose as of yet, but I think my mom might have an idea. . .  :) It seems highly likely it might be Romeo and Juliet. My family is reading Shakespeare as well, and I think my mom is having us read through Shakespeare's more popular plays.

I haven't written nearly as much as I'd want to. I'm applying to different colleges, searching for scholarships, and cleaning/doing school. My days are becoming a mix of chaos and order. It's confusing.

SDG

P.S. In a fit of inspiration last week I completely wrote an outline to a Goose Girl inspired tale in my story world of Printhia. . . I'm calling it Beneath the Dragon's Gate, and hopefully I can give more details later.

*blows trumpets* Introducing a new title!

After going through the first twenty lesson for OYAN, I have decided that Breaking Free is not a very good title at all for Jesi's story. Jesi really doesn't 'break free' from anything.



*drum roll* The new title is. . .




. . .





. . .




. . .




Shadow Wings



The reason I chose this name is because Jesi's future is very uncertain (hence shadow), and she learns to become more or less a leader (hence wings). :) I am very happy with the title, it gives me so much plot bunnehs that I can add to it, and it perfectly fits Jesi's raven form. 

SDG

My second Drabble! It has a big tree. . . Yup.

Okay. I'm going to do this one on trees. I miss seeing the green trees so much right now. . .  I'm not sure if it's a very good drabble, as it seems like the beginning of a story, but I think you can do drabbles like that. I don't know though, but anyways, here it is:

I sat beneath the biggest tree I've ever seen, breathing hard. It's shade was cooling and refreshing, a nice relief from the scorching sun. An ugly brown bird hopped down to where I sat, “Morning!” He said, “You really shouldn't be here, move on.” I watched him fly away. What is wrong? Did I do something? All I had done was sit down. I have walked all day, besides it's stuffy and hot, I deserve a rest. I felt something rough wrap around me, and the world became cool and dark.

Final word count: 91

Character Mondays: Jesi (and Rea)

Sadly, life has taken a tole on things, and I haven't gotten around to this for three weeks. I'm super super sorry. . . Okay, I need to work on my MC Jesi, so I'll interview her again tonight.

Me: Okay Jesi, I'm going off a list here today. Do you have any bad habits?

Jesi: Um, I like to play with my hair.

Rea: She only does that when she's nervous or else needs to be comforted.

Me: Rea! How'd you get in here! Okay, to settle any confusion, Rea is Jesi's mom. Um, I suppose as you're her mom, you can sit in on this one, but don't do that again!

Rea: All right sweetie, but I am her mother and I will use the authority I have over her to become her lawyer if need be.

Me: *whispered* Okay, she has no idea. . . *Stops whispering* Okay Jesi, has anything scared you enough to keep you up at night?

Jesi: I'd probably say the night dad threatened me to stay away from these kids or else he'd bring me to the doctors. . . Doctors are scary.

Rea: Well honey, we had our reasons to make you afraid. I'm sorry it kept you awake at night though.

Me: Rea. . .

Rea: Sorry sweetie. Continue.

Me: Jesi, what do you think is your worst quality or attribute?

Jesi: I'm short.

Me: Seriously? Come on.

Jesi: Okay. . . Mom says I don't talk enough. I'm not good with words, I don't like talking.

Rea: Unless you're practicing an accent. Then you go nuts about talking about nothing at all. *rolls eyes*

Jesi: Mom. . .

Me: *smirk* Okay, last one. Do you have any extended family?

Jesi: I don't know. . . Mom?

Rea: I cannot say at the moment. I'm sorry, but I cannot say.

Me: Okay. This is kind of awkward, so, that's it for now. Goodnight folks!

Character Mondays: Ieoie

. . . Christmas time has been so busy that I'm behind. Either way, I'm taking a break from working on Breaking Free, and instead I'm working on this fun new character! :)

*Drops Ieoie*

Me: Okay. Who are you?

Ieoie: *Grins* I'm Ieoie, son of the Elvish Thief Lord, and grandson to the greatest thief ever!

Me: Um, okay. Who are in your family? 

Ieoie: Well, I have my mom and dad, one older sister, and three younger sisters. 

Me: Why do you call your grandfather the greatest thief ever?

Ieoie: He stole an obsidian door off of a mermaids palace front gate. While the guards where standing there! :D

Me: Wow. How did he do that?

Ieoie: Well, he never told anyone how he did it. He just did it.

Me: Okay, where do you live?

Ieoie: <.< You haven't named the city yet, but it's a merchant city on the edge of a desert next to a very big harbor that goes out to the sea. 

Me: What are you?

Ieoie: Why are you asking questions you already know the answer to? I'm a fire elf!

Me: Because I'm trying to get to know you better. :) As a fire elf, what can you do?

Ieoie: I can shoot sparks out of my hands! :D You should see my older sister though, she can create rainbow colored flames. But mine comes in handy more often. . .

Me: U huh. Okay then, one last question. What are you scared of?

Ieoie: Me? Truly?

Me: Yes.. Truly.

Ieoie: *sigh* I'm scared of darkness. Of being enveloped in it and not be able to create light with my sparks. Everything being a black void that eats all of that beautiful light.

Me: O.O Okay. See you next week!