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You aren't human if, after reading the Harry Potter books, you didn't fall in love with Ron Weasley. His clueless, ridiculous, funny, adorkable personality coupled with his bright red hair are a sellar:)
Every great main character has an equally great best friend backing them up in the background, and Ron Weasley is a terrific example of this.
Every great main character has an equally great best friend backing them up in the background, and Ron Weasley is a terrific example of this.
If you hadn't noticed, I'm kinda a book nerd. I love reading books, I love writing books, I love bookshelves full of books. And I especially love the characters in books. They are the main things that drive stories! For this post I found a list of questions about characters that I thought would be fun to answer! :)
#1. The first character I fell in love with. I'm going to go with the non-romantic route and say my first "favorite" character was probably Joe March. Little Women was my book. I read it over and over and over again until it was falling apart! I loved everything about it, particularly feisty Joe who loved to write and didn't end up with the person you thought she would.
#2. The first character I never expected to love as much as I do now. I think it would be Samwise Gamgee. At the beginning of the Fellowship I only saw him as someone less important then Frodo. SO NOT TRUE. If Frodo hadn't had Sam he would've given up or been killed not even halfway through. Sam is noble, kind, and faithful. Everything a true friend should be. Every time he says "Mr. Frodo" I kind of fangirl.
#5. The character I used to love but I don't anymore. Elsie Dinsmore. No thank you. I like my characters relatable and wonderfully imperfect, thanks very much.
#6. The character I'd want to be like. Oh there's lots. Mmmm the Weasley twins because of their humor and optimism, Sam for his faithfulness to his friends, Luna for her disregard of other peoples' opinions, Peeta and Kristoff for their steadfast love, Elizabeth Bennett for her opinions, Jane Bennett for her sweetness, Olaf for his naieve optimism, Hermione for her knowledge and heart, Lucy for her courage and her faith in Narnia, the list could keep going.
#7. The character I'd slap. This is an easy one! There's certainly a lot of them. Grima Wormtongue (Lord of the Rings), Umbridge (Harry Potter), Lady Katherine (Pride and Prejudice), Draco Malfoy (Harry Potter), the list goes on and on. One of the things I admire most about authors is when they can make me seriously hate a person who the main character dislikes. I don't normally hate people. So the villains in these stories have to be pretty stinkin awful for me to wanna slap them!
#8. A pairing that I love. Ron and Hermione, hands down! Mmmm Ana and Kristoff, Katniss and Peeta, John Bingley and Jane Bennett, Pepper and Tony, Will Turner and Elizabeth, Rapunzel and Flynn, Rosie and Sam, Neville and Luna (I know it never happens but I think it's cute), Jessie and Buzz (Toy Story), Hawkeye and Natasha, etc.
#9. A pairing I don't like. I had to think for a few minutes but once I thought of mine I know EXACTLY which pairing. Tauriel and Kili. NO NO NO NO. First of all, height difference. It'd never work. She'd have to bend way down to kiss him! Secondly, the specialness of Gimli and Legolas' friendship later on is lost, since it's already been done by Tauriel and Kili (a very good point made by my friend Gemma who didn't like this pairing either) Thirdly, it's so cliché! It's what the audience expects. Therefore I don't like it.
#1. The first character I fell in love with. I'm going to go with the non-romantic route and say my first "favorite" character was probably Joe March. Little Women was my book. I read it over and over and over again until it was falling apart! I loved everything about it, particularly feisty Joe who loved to write and didn't end up with the person you thought she would.
#2. The first character I never expected to love as much as I do now. I think it would be Samwise Gamgee. At the beginning of the Fellowship I only saw him as someone less important then Frodo. SO NOT TRUE. If Frodo hadn't had Sam he would've given up or been killed not even halfway through. Sam is noble, kind, and faithful. Everything a true friend should be. Every time he says "Mr. Frodo" I kind of fangirl.
Another person would be Finnick Odair. At first he seems like one of those run-of-the-mill cliche full of themselves peacocks. But as you get more into the Hunger Games series you find out way more about his character and his life. I really like him too.
#3. The character everyone else loves that I hate. Mmm. This is the last one I'm answering because I still can't think of anyone. Maybe Odin in Thor 2. I don't hate him but I was certainly annoyed with him. Orrrrr..... James Potter. I don't really hate him either, but I think Lily could've done better. Those are the only ones I can think of now.
#4. The character everyone hates that I love. This is going to sound odd, and I don't necessarily "love" this person, but I think Bellatrix Lestrange is a wonderfully done sort of insanely eccentric villain.
#3. The character everyone else loves that I hate. Mmm. This is the last one I'm answering because I still can't think of anyone. Maybe Odin in Thor 2. I don't hate him but I was certainly annoyed with him. Orrrrr..... James Potter. I don't really hate him either, but I think Lily could've done better. Those are the only ones I can think of now.
#4. The character everyone hates that I love. This is going to sound odd, and I don't necessarily "love" this person, but I think Bellatrix Lestrange is a wonderfully done sort of insanely eccentric villain.
#5. The character I used to love but I don't anymore. Elsie Dinsmore. No thank you. I like my characters relatable and wonderfully imperfect, thanks very much.
#6. The character I'd want to be like. Oh there's lots. Mmmm the Weasley twins because of their humor and optimism, Sam for his faithfulness to his friends, Luna for her disregard of other peoples' opinions, Peeta and Kristoff for their steadfast love, Elizabeth Bennett for her opinions, Jane Bennett for her sweetness, Olaf for his naieve optimism, Hermione for her knowledge and heart, Lucy for her courage and her faith in Narnia, the list could keep going.
#7. The character I'd slap. This is an easy one! There's certainly a lot of them. Grima Wormtongue (Lord of the Rings), Umbridge (Harry Potter), Lady Katherine (Pride and Prejudice), Draco Malfoy (Harry Potter), the list goes on and on. One of the things I admire most about authors is when they can make me seriously hate a person who the main character dislikes. I don't normally hate people. So the villains in these stories have to be pretty stinkin awful for me to wanna slap them!
#8. A pairing that I love. Ron and Hermione, hands down! Mmmm Ana and Kristoff, Katniss and Peeta, John Bingley and Jane Bennett, Pepper and Tony, Will Turner and Elizabeth, Rapunzel and Flynn, Rosie and Sam, Neville and Luna (I know it never happens but I think it's cute), Jessie and Buzz (Toy Story), Hawkeye and Natasha, etc.
#9. A pairing I don't like. I had to think for a few minutes but once I thought of mine I know EXACTLY which pairing. Tauriel and Kili. NO NO NO NO. First of all, height difference. It'd never work. She'd have to bend way down to kiss him! Secondly, the specialness of Gimli and Legolas' friendship later on is lost, since it's already been done by Tauriel and Kili (a very good point made by my friend Gemma who didn't like this pairing either) Thirdly, it's so cliché! It's what the audience expects. Therefore I don't like it.
I had fun with these questions!! Here are some book-ish pictures I love:
Today I have the privilege of featuring the lovely Emily Tjaden from the Dreaming Hobbit! She has agreed to guest post and I can't wait for you to hear what she has to say.
I’m not a fantasy writer, and I never have been.
Some people find that surprising, considering the range and span of my imagination, but while it’s true I can come up with decent ideas for fantasy novels, writing them has never been my strong point. Now what most of you are probably finding surprising is the fact that I’m writing this post.
Well, despite not being a fantasy writer myself, I know many tellers of epic and magical tales. I am in contact with them on a regular basis, and I definitely enjoy reading my share of fantasy novels. And, in being so exposed to the genre, I’ve realized that there are three great myths about fantasy writers.
The fact is, these myths can probably be attached to people who write other genres besides that of fantasy, but from what I’ve noticed, it’s the authors of dragon-riding, spell-filled, magical fiction that get the most heat here.
So what are these myths?
Myth #1: People Who Write Fantasy Must Be Ignorant of Reality
I think this myth was created by realists who can’t stand the idea that there’s more to life than reality. That it’s okay to imagine the otherwise. These types of critics don’t like to admit that people who prefer to tell stories set in a whimsical world are actually just as smart as they are. And so they write off authors of fantasy as “ignorant” and “naïve,” when, in reality (hey, look! I just used that word!), they often have acute observations of real truths that many other people miss, due to being too caught up in “what is practical” that they can see in front of them. From talking to fantasy writers, I’ve found the opposite of this myth to be true. In many cases, I’ve realized that it is the authors of otherworldly fiction that have the greatest grasp on reality. They know that it takes understanding reality to write compelling fantasy.
Myth #2: Fantasy Writers Spend All Their Time In Their Own Worlds
It’s true that they spend a lot of time there. I mean, don’t all writers? It’s our job, after all. But when people assume that we don’t ever come out of our “fantasy worlds” to face reality, they are the ignorant ones. As I said, skilled fantasy writers rely on a grasp of reality to make their work great. This means that they must spend time in it! They are not all incompetent basement dwellers. In fact, some of the most brilliant and competent people I know love to write epic fantasies, filled with magic and intrigue that reaches far beyond the real world. And yet, these same individuals are capable of holding extremely intellectual conversations about this world. Writers of all genres must learn to be observant of reality or their fiction suffers.
Myth #3: People Who Write Fantasy Do So Because They Can’t Cope With Reality
This may be the biggest myth of them all. The authors I know who write fantasy don’t do it to hide behind a mythical curtain and avoid facing their problems. In fact, they know that in order for people to see things the way they really are, sometimes they have to be shown to them in a different light. Such as fantasy. Jesus could easily have told his disciples stories about real people ignoring and accepting the Gospel, but instead, He decided to talk about plants. And if anybody can understand and cope with reality, it’s the One who created it. But Jesus knew there was something special about fantasy. About stories. About imagination. He saw the importance of showing something to people by cloaking it in a beautifully woven piece of fiction. And that’s what fantasy writers do best. Think about the wonderful truths buried in the works of Lewis and Tolkien. These are the things that writers of fantasy bring to light.
It bothers me when people call writers (both of fantasy and other genres) ignorant, incompetent, and stupid. When they give the impression that “you could do better.” No. I mean, what is better than communicating truth to people who are so caught up in everyday reality that they fail to see what’s right in front of them? This is why fantasy is important. Stories are important. And so are the people who write them.
Emily Tjaden is a novelist, editor, and blogger. At nineteen, she is the oldest of five, and a Lord of the Rings fan who likes hobbits, dragons, and coffee. Aside from writing weird, speculative fiction, her passions include music, photography, and helping others see the potential they have to make a difference. She can be found blogging about various creative imaginings at www.dreaminghobbit.com.
I was perusing through The Notebook Sisters blog and Cait had this super mega fun post with all her story ideas that she loved but didn't have the time to pursue. She had a fun list and I decided it was time to play copy cat, because, just like her, I have the lovely disease of TMSI, a.k.a. Too Many Story Ideas.
Before you read this please pay her post a visit ---> SEE IT HERE
Before you read this please pay her post a visit ---> SEE IT HERE
*begineth story rambling*
1. 'Never ever after series' (Children's, magical retelling) The stories all end with "they lived happily ever after".... But did they? A possible book in the series would be about Cinderella becoming a spy who's sent on a mission to kill an enemy spy (who's the prince in his spare time) but doesn't and (surprise) the two fall in love. The spy agency she's a part of would look into storybook 'crimes' and would investigate things by counting the stair height from the ball, studying the shoe for finger prints, etc.
I might include #2 in this series as well.
I might include #2 in this series as well.
2. 'Still-to-be-named' (YA, magical retelling) In this classic redo of Snow White, it is the princess, not the queen, who is controlled by the mirror. (Whaaaaa?) They might also live in world full of snow and shifting hours of sunlight. They've all adjusted to the fact that there's days of just sunlight, and then days of darkness.
This would become interesting since I could very easily make Snow White the villain.
3. 'Switched' (YA) A girl wishes for a new personality and gets what she wants, except not in the way she expected! A little bit of everyone's personalities is a nightmare, as she soon finds out.
A twist on this would be feeling every emotion in the world instead of every personality. Which, in my opinion, sounds FAR FAR worse.
4. 'Nameless' (YA) In my world, children without names are considered cursed. You guessed it. I was born without a name.
I LOVE THIS ONE. Names are soooooooo cool to me and I want I need I have to explore this sometime soon.
5. 'Still-to-be-named' (YA, dystopian) I only have the world for this one, but in it songs dictate how you feel and what you do. For example, a song titled "imagining" would have you automatically imagining until the song ended, or "fear" would keep you afraid until the song turned off. This could be used for evil purposes very easily.
6. 'I murdered the president' (YA, dystopian) It was always just another mission. They programmed me to have the thoughts of someone far older then my nine year old body revealed. I was the innocent one, the one who could give the president a hug and nobody would bat an eyelash. This assumption was everyone's downfall, and I never regretted my work.
I've gotten some interesting reactions from people when I tell them this story idea, and yes, it's a bit morbid. Basically a group of rebels who hate the president and all that he stands for have figured out a way to program eight year olds specifically with the thoughts of thirty year olds. That way they can go in and do all the dirty work and if they die it wouldn't be as big of a deal as if a full grown adult died. VERY VERY BAD. I do not support this idea in anyway you guys! Please know this is just the bad guys, and by the end a very clear picture of good conquering evil would be presented.
I shudder to think about having these guys controlling you, and I would want to bring that redemption in the end where the eight year old goes against her programming etc. etc.
I think it's an intriguing concept but don't know how I would pull it off.
(I EVEN FOUND TWO PICTURES FOR IT LIKE I WAS SO EXCITED BECAUSE IT FITS)
7. 'Think a good thought' (YA) I know exactly what other people are thinking, word for word, every dirty thought. I hear them so clearly it's almost as if they're saying them out loud. Oh wait. To me, they are.
This character already sounds wicked.
8. '10 Do's and Don'ts for a Wizard/Pirate/Magical shop keeper' (Childrens) Okay dears, this book is a little odd, I grant you. It was just a title idea, really. The first ten chapter titles would be a 'do' for whichever I pick, be it wizard or pirate or whatever. Example would be ''Do challenge anyone to a duel'. (Yes, ridiculous) Then as the danger increases, the last ten chapter titles are all 'dont's'. For example, and I snicker as I write this, 'Don't wake the sleeping dragon.'
'nuff said.
This would be a fun book to just take and go wherever with, just totally make fun of all the fairy tales and make it as ridiculous or meaningful as I wished.
To all you story ideas I say
OH OH OH please stay just a little while longer!!! (not you, plot bunnies, my readers!) I must showeth you my precious story bunny I'm working on as we speak:
The 9x7 Dream
This is much much too complicated for any sort of decent story synopsis, but I shall do my best. Basically (and I mean basically) Alex Lesley is a science whiz and is hoping to graduate from high school early and get a scholarship at a prominent college near by. Her plans are shattered when a secret organization grabs her with a promise of getting paid to pursue science all day. The Harvesters are an illegal group who have found a way to take (or, harvest) people's dreams and use them for their advantage. They claim they are looking for one particular dream, which will (strangely) cure the president who is slowly dying. Alex begins with the idea that they're doing it for a good cause, but as the story progresses on, she realizes more and more that she is in way over her head, and she must figure out what is right, what is wrong, and what she is willing to sacrifice before they steal the most precious thing of all from her: The 9x7 Dream.
(italics always make things better)
This is Alex:
Do please compliment her on her nose, she's very fond of it.
-Chloe
So you picked #3! Not gonna lie, that was the one I was secretly rooting for. (If you're completely lost about what I'm referring to check out THIS post)
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[Eesie]
There must have been thousands standing in the rain that day. I should know; I was one of those people letting the rain soak me and puddle around my boots. Thunder grumbled half-heartedly in the distance. Even nature seemed to realize the great loss. "Eesie-" Someone pulled at my arm. "We have to leave. Please, Eesie..."
Rain droned on the hard ground, splashing my tear-streaked face. "I hate you." The words were a mere whisper, but she heard them all the same.
"What?"
I clenched and unclenched my fists.
"I hate you."
"You- hate me?" She looked up, and then down. Her lip was red from where she had clamped down on it, and silent tears rolled down her nose. White lines formed on her skin, just above her wrist. They cut deep, and I knew she felt it. The catch was that only I could actually see them, only I would be reminded of my vicious sentences.
She hates you... The silver words glowed on her skin. All along her arms I saw the scars shine bright, scars from cruel words out of my own mouth, sentence that had hurt, deep wounds from long ago. Even as I watched they faded and grew dim, still vaguely visible.
I shoved past her, leaving her crying under the trees and ran. "You're a jerk, you know that?" She sobbed behind me. I didn't look back, just shivered as her words dug into my wrist. [Bunny]
You and I live in a world of back-biting daisies. You know who I'm talking about. The people who smile and pamper and coddle you to pieces so all their daisy petals almost fall off trying to suck up to you, but the minute you turn around they sink their teeth into your back. Except their teeth are words, and instead of leaving tooth scars they leave word scars that are etched across the skin like faded tattoos.
There used to be a phrase that we make fun of now; I can barely remember it but I think it said something along the lines of 'sticks breaking your bones but words never hurting' or something sick like that.
Eesi's words stung, and not just because of the badness of them. They stung deeper, because I knew when she hurled them at me she really meant it, she really hated me. I shuddered in relief with the knowledge that she hadn't said the forbidden words. Yet. So I ran too, in the opposite direction, through the rain, ran from her and from everyone, ran from the fear that she would shout at me to come back, ran from the fear that she wouldn't.
I finally collapsed under a tree, a long distance away from the funeral. I sat with my feet planted and my face up to the sky for a long time, occasionally rubbing my wrist to ease the aching pain from the already-developing scar.
The funny thing was, he had said the forbidden words before. Of course we never told; we always stuck by our mama. And she said we weren't to tell. She protected him with her words even as he slowly murdered her with his.
No matter how many times he threw them at her like curses, he must not have truly meant it. He must have still loved her in some tiny dark piece of his ugly, scarred heart.
He held on for so long- until one morning we woke up and mama was dead in the living room. Across her chest, right above her heart, we could see the glowing, spidery, forbidden words......
I've been digging through old things lately. Mainly old letters, (different story for another time) but also some old writing as well. Yup, I'm digging DEEP. I've unearthed some lovely tidbits...
ONE:
Everyone thought of me as a beast. Since the day I had found the magic inside me I was considered different. People have stretched the truth of what I used to be. A prince, they said. As if. I was nothing but a farmer And I was happy with that. Before any of it started. Before I met Belle. Before I had become the beast....
Chapter One
Once, long ago, there was a tale of a young man. Legend says he was cursed by a fairy and turned into a beast. But if the beast could find someone to give up his human life in exchange for the beast, he would be set free. Nobody would do it, until the day that a boy be-friended the beast. The beast, seeing this as the only way out, cursed the boy with the form of a beast and escaped. And the boy was left in terror, wondering what he would do. Years passed, and the boy-turned-beast lived on what he could find while he tried to say hidden. Nobody would go near him. Nobody but his sister, who loved him with a love that could never break. Belle was my sister. This is her story.
TWO:
Chapter One
Me
My story book begins with a once upon a time and a boy named Raegan. See him over there? He's rather medium height, stick skinny, with his ordinary brown hair, a small smile, and, well, here's the strange thing- Purple eyes. Strange, isn't it? Let's follow him around a bit and see what he does. This is his story, after all. At least, that's what he thinks.
I wasn't sure how I'd do this, but I wanted to write a book where the reader is narrating about the character's adventure. Somehow.
THREE:
There must have been thousands standing in the rain that day. I should know; I was one of those people letting the rain soak me and puddle around my boots. Thunder grumbled half-heartedly in the distance. Even nature seemed to realize the great loss. "Eesie-" Someone pulled at my arm. "We have to leave. Please, Eesie..."
Rain droned on the hard ground, splashing my tear-streaked face. "I hate you." The words were a mere whisper, but she heard them all the same.
"What?"
I clenched and unclenched my fists.
"I hate you."
"You- hate me?" She looked up, and then down. Her lip was red from where she had clamped down on it, and silent tears rolled down her nose. White lines formed on her skin, just above her wrist. They cut deep, but she couldn't feel it. Or see it, for that matter. Only I could.
She hates you... The silver words glowed on her skin. All along her arms I saw the scars shine bright, scars from cruel words out of my own mouth, sentence that had hurt, deep wounds from long ago. Even as I watched they faded and grew dim, still visible but only just.
I shoved past her, leaving her crying under the trees and ran. "You're a jerk, you know that?" She sobbed behind me. I didn't look back, just shivered as her words dug into my wrist.
Even if you guys don't pick this one I still want to pursue it more.
Last one!
FOUR:
Thursday was a beautiful, sunny, hot day. And that's how I remember it. Bright. I was in the front seat, Dad was driving. We had the music going full blast, and nobody was paying much attention to the road. Not until the sound of a frantic car horn honking in front of us made Dad slam on the brakes.
I remember screams. Yells. Horns going off and the sickening crunch of the two cars colliding. My head hitting the dashboard and the bright sun burning my eyelids as they closed.
There ya have it! Your four options! You can vote in the comments or by emailing me :)
I picked a few from a year or two ago and thought I'd let y'all vote on which one you think I should re-write or add more to. Here's my top four! (mostly unedited) (Which reminds me of Princess Bride, except these aren't mostly dead)
ONE:
Everyone thought of me as a beast. Since the day I had found the magic inside me I was considered different. People have stretched the truth of what I used to be. A prince, they said. As if. I was nothing but a farmer And I was happy with that. Before any of it started. Before I met Belle. Before I had become the beast....
Chapter One
Once, long ago, there was a tale of a young man. Legend says he was cursed by a fairy and turned into a beast. But if the beast could find someone to give up his human life in exchange for the beast, he would be set free. Nobody would do it, until the day that a boy be-friended the beast. The beast, seeing this as the only way out, cursed the boy with the form of a beast and escaped. And the boy was left in terror, wondering what he would do. Years passed, and the boy-turned-beast lived on what he could find while he tried to say hidden. Nobody would go near him. Nobody but his sister, who loved him with a love that could never break. Belle was my sister. This is her story.
TWO:
Chapter One
Me
My story book begins with a once upon a time and a boy named Raegan. See him over there? He's rather medium height, stick skinny, with his ordinary brown hair, a small smile, and, well, here's the strange thing- Purple eyes. Strange, isn't it? Let's follow him around a bit and see what he does. This is his story, after all. At least, that's what he thinks.
I wasn't sure how I'd do this, but I wanted to write a book where the reader is narrating about the character's adventure. Somehow.
THREE:
There must have been thousands standing in the rain that day. I should know; I was one of those people letting the rain soak me and puddle around my boots. Thunder grumbled half-heartedly in the distance. Even nature seemed to realize the great loss. "Eesie-" Someone pulled at my arm. "We have to leave. Please, Eesie..."
Rain droned on the hard ground, splashing my tear-streaked face. "I hate you." The words were a mere whisper, but she heard them all the same.
"What?"
I clenched and unclenched my fists.
"I hate you."
"You- hate me?" She looked up, and then down. Her lip was red from where she had clamped down on it, and silent tears rolled down her nose. White lines formed on her skin, just above her wrist. They cut deep, but she couldn't feel it. Or see it, for that matter. Only I could.
She hates you... The silver words glowed on her skin. All along her arms I saw the scars shine bright, scars from cruel words out of my own mouth, sentence that had hurt, deep wounds from long ago. Even as I watched they faded and grew dim, still visible but only just.
I shoved past her, leaving her crying under the trees and ran. "You're a jerk, you know that?" She sobbed behind me. I didn't look back, just shivered as her words dug into my wrist.
Even if you guys don't pick this one I still want to pursue it more.
Last one!
FOUR:
Thursday was a beautiful, sunny, hot day. And that's how I remember it. Bright. I was in the front seat, Dad was driving. We had the music going full blast, and nobody was paying much attention to the road. Not until the sound of a frantic car horn honking in front of us made Dad slam on the brakes.
I remember screams. Yells. Horns going off and the sickening crunch of the two cars colliding. My head hitting the dashboard and the bright sun burning my eyelids as they closed.
There ya have it! Your four options! You can vote in the comments or by emailing me :)
Every Thursday, the boy in the red shirt was there at the subway station. He would sit with his back against the wall, his skateboard clutched protectively at his side. He was probably no more than thirteen.
Every Thursday.
That was the only day I saw him there. Never Wednesday, never Monday. Each crowd of people exiting the sub were intercepted and scanned by his bright green eyes.
Finally one day I sat down opposite him on a bench. "What are you doing here?"
He blinked and gave me a look that seemed to ask, 'Isn't it obvious?'
When I still looked puzzled, he sighed. "I'm waiting."
And that was all I got out of him. The next Thursday, I sat down beside him again with a sandwich for him and one for me. We said nothing the entire time, which was just fine as far as either of us were concerned. I might make a comment about a funny shaped hat, or the way that lady laughed, and he would smile and nod. But then he would go back to watching everything with his green eyes.
So it went, until a month from that first Thursday he finally talked.
"I'm waiting for my mom."
Five words, but they opened a flood. "Four months ago, she started to cough. We thought she just had a cold, but it got worse. Fast. Then she had to go to the hospital."
His fingers traced a pattern on his worn skateboard.
"She hated it there, mum did. We used to go skateboard before she got sick."
He stopped talking for a few minutes, and I almost got up and left. But he wasn't done. "And then one day-" The boy looked at the sub that had just pulled in, his eyes glazed and unseeing.
"She told me that we'd go skateboarding on Thursday. She said the doctors were all a bunch of grandpas, and no matter what they said she'd take a sub and meet me at the station."
His voice caught. "But they won't let me see her anymore. A whole month, and she hasn't come to skateboard. We don't see her in the hospital at all." His words came faster. "They say she's gone, but don't tell me where. Dad and sissy cry all the time, but I know she'll get better."
There was a fierceness in his voice. "She promised."
There was a small tremble in his last word, and with that I knew that this boy was slowly dying inside. He knew the truth but was holding out with a stubbornness that made my heart ache.
"She'll come." He put his hands in his pockets. "The day is still young."
Then the boy stood up, his skateboard under one arm, and with green eyes set ahead, he walked out of the station. But I knew he'd be back. Every Thursday the boy in the red shirt would be there, waiting. Waiting for someone who would never come.
So I was reading THIS really good article about how to overcome writer's block, and I wanted you all's opinions and ideas! What crazy and unique things do you do to get yourself out of this terrible rut? Whether it's for novels, school assignments, or just writing in general. How do you motivate yourself?
Comment or email me and then I'll compile all the answers in a blog post!
Here are some of the things I do......
Comment or email me and then I'll compile all the answers in a blog post!
Here are some of the things I do......
- Eat chocolate.
- And more chocolate.
- Make myself goals (i.e. write for a certain number of minutes and then reward myself with more chocolate, etc.)
- Listen to inspiring music that makes me want to write
- Do it late at night when it's really quiet. This is when I normally feel the most inspired. Like right now! 9:45 at night and I'm writing a blog post. I tend to be pretty awake at this point in the day.
- Let's see.... I also do
- Blog post
- Short stories
- Or poems based on pictures to help get my creative gears turning
Love,
Chloe
xoxoxo
I see you.
You know who you are.
Or you say you do.
You smile.
At least you pretend to.
I’ve seen you cry.
I’ve watched as you slowly die.
Is this life?
Locked up in fear.
Chained by doubt.
Held captive by lies.
For you are more.
I know you are more.
I have to believe you are more.
When you look in the mirror
I know what you say
Ugly
Worthless
It’s just been a bad day
But that’s just it
Because this is your life
You say it’s enough.
But when will you see?
You are more.
“How are you?”
Three simple words.
You smile and say,
“I’m fine, how are you?”
I know it’s not true.
You know it too.
But you paste on the smile
Force out the laughter
Say the right thing
But is it real?
When will you see?
His heart aches.
When will you hear?
His voice pleads.
When will you realize
That you are so much more?
More than the lies
More than the doubt
More than the fear
He tells you everyday
He whispers it in your ear
You.
Are.
More.
I ask it again.
"How are you?"
Your smile wavers.
“I’m-fine.”
But you say it
With sorrow in your voice
Tears in your eyes
Then I hug you
And whisper in your ear
“No. You are not
fine.
You are more.”
I've been waiting awhile to do this, so after I mentioned it in my previous post I thought why not do it for the next post? I haven't "officially" introduced you all to my new friends. More specifically Becka Burnette. This girl has seriously been so fun to get to confer with. We're both in conflict over who she ends up with in the end, and HOW exactly that happens, but she doesn't really know what I have in store for her. *malicious cackle* I really am cruel.
But back on topic. Maybe you'll like her a little more knowing what's going to happen to her. Or trying to guess what's going to happen, anyway. :)
Shivering from the cold winds, I hastily slid my card through the slot by the door and then pushed it open and walked inside. Spread through the whole hall were at least twenty gleaming tables that were as wide as the whole building. Cozy booths lined the side of one wall, and on another side a long buffet line stretched across the opposite wall. I could only imagine what sorts of meals the children were served here. The place looked like it had been spared no expense, and while it was professional it was also very clean and efficient.
Now. The third booth on the right was where she said. Moving carefully through the maze of tables, I made my way over to the booth. Sure enough, sitting with her napkin already covered with doodles, was Becka.
She started when she saw me and quickly shoved the napkin in her pocket.
"Hello!" I held out my hand to her. "I'm here to interview you. You are Becka, correct?"
She smiled warmly and shook my hand. "Yes. And you are-?"
Sitting down across from her I took out my notepad and flipped it open. "Oh names aren't important. Now, Becka. Please tell me basic information about yourself. Age, birthday, ST number, etc."
"I am sixteen years old, and my birthday is January the 41st. My ST number was taken away when I went on tour."
Perfect. She was making my job easy. "Tour? What tour?"
She shot me a look of surprise, but before I could really see it her features quickly melted back into the friendly smile. "I'm surprised you haven't heard of it."
This girl was smart. She knew my game and I hers. "Well lets say I haven't. Enlighten me, please."
Becka pushed one of her stray curls behind her ear and then said, "Since we are the last community before we are on our own, the presidential figure wanted select talented teens from this community to take a sort of "prodigy" tour. I enjoy art, and-"
"Enjoy?" I tapped my pencil on the table. "Come now, Becka. Surely you more then enjoy."
She didn't seem ruffled by my interruption. "My art teacher thought I had a talent, and she recommended me."
Goodness, she certainly didn't waste words. "Excellent, excellent." I glanced over my questions. "So Becka, can you tell me about your friends here?"
She opened her mouth to speak but I beat her to it. "Guy friends, in particular?"
Ah, there was that blush. Finally.
"I don't think-"
"Oh of course dear!" I laughed. "Personal things, I understand, I understand... Now. Can you remember your parents at all?"
Here eyes widened. "Of course not. I was taken away from them when I was three days old, as I'm sure you were. Do YOU have any memory of YOUR parents?"
I'd hit the mark. This was even better the reaction about the boy. "Tsk, tsk. Aren't I the interviewer here?"
I saw that she'd been clenching her fists and as she saw me looking at them she quickly uncurled them. "Yes, of course. Please continue."
For the rest of the interview I asked meaningless questions and got meaningless answers. But I'd gotten what I wanted and she knew it.
At the end of the interview I closed my notepad and stood up. "Thank you so much for humoring me in this, miss Becka. I assure you your answers will be put to excellent use."
She stood up as well. "I'm happy to be of service to the government."
But her eyes showed no pleasure. Oh yes, this Becka Burnette was an interesting character. A very interesting character indeed.
But back on topic. Maybe you'll like her a little more knowing what's going to happen to her. Or trying to guess what's going to happen, anyway. :)
Shivering from the cold winds, I hastily slid my card through the slot by the door and then pushed it open and walked inside. Spread through the whole hall were at least twenty gleaming tables that were as wide as the whole building. Cozy booths lined the side of one wall, and on another side a long buffet line stretched across the opposite wall. I could only imagine what sorts of meals the children were served here. The place looked like it had been spared no expense, and while it was professional it was also very clean and efficient.
Now. The third booth on the right was where she said. Moving carefully through the maze of tables, I made my way over to the booth. Sure enough, sitting with her napkin already covered with doodles, was Becka.
She started when she saw me and quickly shoved the napkin in her pocket.
"Hello!" I held out my hand to her. "I'm here to interview you. You are Becka, correct?"
She smiled warmly and shook my hand. "Yes. And you are-?"
Sitting down across from her I took out my notepad and flipped it open. "Oh names aren't important. Now, Becka. Please tell me basic information about yourself. Age, birthday, ST number, etc."
"I am sixteen years old, and my birthday is January the 41st. My ST number was taken away when I went on tour."
Perfect. She was making my job easy. "Tour? What tour?"
She shot me a look of surprise, but before I could really see it her features quickly melted back into the friendly smile. "I'm surprised you haven't heard of it."
This girl was smart. She knew my game and I hers. "Well lets say I haven't. Enlighten me, please."
Becka pushed one of her stray curls behind her ear and then said, "Since we are the last community before we are on our own, the presidential figure wanted select talented teens from this community to take a sort of "prodigy" tour. I enjoy art, and-"
"Enjoy?" I tapped my pencil on the table. "Come now, Becka. Surely you more then enjoy."
She didn't seem ruffled by my interruption. "My art teacher thought I had a talent, and she recommended me."
Goodness, she certainly didn't waste words. "Excellent, excellent." I glanced over my questions. "So Becka, can you tell me about your friends here?"
She opened her mouth to speak but I beat her to it. "Guy friends, in particular?"
Ah, there was that blush. Finally.
"I don't think-"
"Oh of course dear!" I laughed. "Personal things, I understand, I understand... Now. Can you remember your parents at all?"
Here eyes widened. "Of course not. I was taken away from them when I was three days old, as I'm sure you were. Do YOU have any memory of YOUR parents?"
I'd hit the mark. This was even better the reaction about the boy. "Tsk, tsk. Aren't I the interviewer here?"
I saw that she'd been clenching her fists and as she saw me looking at them she quickly uncurled them. "Yes, of course. Please continue."
For the rest of the interview I asked meaningless questions and got meaningless answers. But I'd gotten what I wanted and she knew it.
At the end of the interview I closed my notepad and stood up. "Thank you so much for humoring me in this, miss Becka. I assure you your answers will be put to excellent use."
She stood up as well. "I'm happy to be of service to the government."
But her eyes showed no pleasure. Oh yes, this Becka Burnette was an interesting character. A very interesting character indeed.
I first remember the screams, blood-curdling screams of fear. And the second thing I remember was light. Overwhelming light. Being only six at the time I began to cry, and was so scared I almost tripped over a sheep in my haste to get back to my mother. It was chaos, and I could barely see over the hundreds of massive white sheep. It terrified me and I screamed louder. Where was my family? But then something stopped me.
My dress dirty and my face streaked with tears I turned in the direction of the powerful voice that filled our field and echoed across the hills. My first instinct was to start crying again. It was so big, and I was so alone. But the voice was strangely comforting, and though I didn't know what it was at the time I felt peaceful. "Peace be with you."
I saw a glowing form in the sky, the stars seeming dull in comparison behind it. I think I realized that it was a man, but since I have heard the story so many times I cannot be sure. I was sure of one thing, though. He seemed to be talking to me. I was astonished, and not a little frightened.
"Do not be afraid, for I have good news for you!" Good news? For me? My little six-year-old self brightened. Would I be getting the pony I wanted after all?
"A Messiah has been born in the city of David." Messiah? David? These were definitely not what I was expecting. Maybe he was suggesting names for my new horse. Yes that was it.
Abruptly the sky filled with blinding light and I screamed and fell backwards. Shining forms that I now know were angels filled the sky and began to sing. It was unlike any music I had heard, and I loved it. It was so beautiful. My face lifted up to the sky I closed my eyes, listening, forgetting for a moment that I was supposed to be lost and cold and lonely.....
And this was how my family found me, lying on the ground, my eyes closed, a peaceful smile still hovering on my lips, my breathing slow and steady as I dreamed of shining horses.
The rest of my memory of that night is only bits and pieces. How I wish I remembered more. But the one thing that is ingrained in my memory even more then the angels or the song or the light was the baby. He was a beautiful baby, his skin was soft and he had beautiful eyes. How do I know? Every time I remember this part I smile. I got to hold him. Then I of course I didn't think anything of it. It was a baby, a very pretty baby, but just a baby. Wasn't he? When I asked the mom his name she laid her hand on my arm and smiled at my family who were all clustered around me. "His name- is Jesus."
My dress dirty and my face streaked with tears I turned in the direction of the powerful voice that filled our field and echoed across the hills. My first instinct was to start crying again. It was so big, and I was so alone. But the voice was strangely comforting, and though I didn't know what it was at the time I felt peaceful. "Peace be with you."
I saw a glowing form in the sky, the stars seeming dull in comparison behind it. I think I realized that it was a man, but since I have heard the story so many times I cannot be sure. I was sure of one thing, though. He seemed to be talking to me. I was astonished, and not a little frightened.
"Do not be afraid, for I have good news for you!" Good news? For me? My little six-year-old self brightened. Would I be getting the pony I wanted after all?
"A Messiah has been born in the city of David." Messiah? David? These were definitely not what I was expecting. Maybe he was suggesting names for my new horse. Yes that was it.
Abruptly the sky filled with blinding light and I screamed and fell backwards. Shining forms that I now know were angels filled the sky and began to sing. It was unlike any music I had heard, and I loved it. It was so beautiful. My face lifted up to the sky I closed my eyes, listening, forgetting for a moment that I was supposed to be lost and cold and lonely.....
And this was how my family found me, lying on the ground, my eyes closed, a peaceful smile still hovering on my lips, my breathing slow and steady as I dreamed of shining horses.
The rest of my memory of that night is only bits and pieces. How I wish I remembered more. But the one thing that is ingrained in my memory even more then the angels or the song or the light was the baby. He was a beautiful baby, his skin was soft and he had beautiful eyes. How do I know? Every time I remember this part I smile. I got to hold him. Then I of course I didn't think anything of it. It was a baby, a very pretty baby, but just a baby. Wasn't he? When I asked the mom his name she laid her hand on my arm and smiled at my family who were all clustered around me. "His name- is Jesus."
