Where Dandelions Grow

Things must be broken in order to be made whole.

Can a seed grow on top of pavement? No. The surface is too hard. There's no nutrients. Nothing for the roots to cling too. It's only through the cracks that the dandelions grow, right?

At times can't we be as hard as pavement? Hard headed? Hard hearted?

Overtime something starts to happen. God allows certain circumstances to take place that leave us completely and utterly broken, our facades cracked. In those moment we cling to God, crawl to him on our hands and knees, begging, pleading Him to make us whole again and fix us.

As we begin to spend time with Him, seeds of God's word fall to our hearts. This time they don't shrivel up on our hard bitter exterior. Instead they fall through the cracks and take root in our souls. There they blossom and over time the seeds start to up root the hard pavement that once shielded our hearts. Turning it to dust.

From those ashes something so new, so beautiful blossoms, something we didn't know existed. A new wholeness that was created entirely by brokenness.

It is only in the cracks of our hearts where the most beautiful can things grow.

Writing Away Writers Block

I'm having a wee bit of a hard time finding words tonight, so I'm just going to write something. Anything. Just going to let my fingers hit the keys and see what happens.

 Proceed with caution. 

The raven was sitting on my writing desk when I walked in.
"Let me guess, Nevermore?" I said to ebony beast. It cawed at me in response, flapping it's wings in a weak attempt to intimidate me. But it didn't, nothing could intimidate me, especially this sorry excuse for a creature.

I walk carefully over to my bay window and fling it open. The cold fingers of the morning air caress my cheeks and play with my hair.

"Get!" I shout at the beast, "Get out!" I throw fist in the air and wave my arms. But the raven just sits there, its head cocked to the side staring at me with it's beady little eyes.

 "Leave no black plume as a token of that lie thy soul has spoken!" I shout. A tiny trickle fear lands in the back of my throat. I can understand why Mr. Edgar Allen Poe did not like this bird. This stubborn, lazy, creepy bird.

"What is it that you want? Would like a snack, yeah? Wee bit of bread crumbs for your lips? Well I don't have anything for you." It continued to stare and I stared back. "I'll ring up the exterminator on you. Is that what you want? To be some french maids feather duster. It'd sure put you to good use."

What was with this thing? Why was it here? Why wouldn't it leave? It leaned down towards my desk and pecked at with it's beak. "Oi, don't do that. That's brand new." This time I go up and push a little with my hand, but I don't feel anything. I do it again and it reacts like it has been hit. But the feathers to not tickle my skin, and I do not feel the pain of the beak pecking my hand.

"What are you?" I quietly mutter. It's caw echoes in the high ceiling of my office. I could almost make out a word, but then that would mean I was crazy. It cawed loudly again, and this time I think I can make out something.
"Hide?" I repeat.
The raven nodded its head.
I froze and my eyes dart to the sealed envelope on my desk. For some reason I listen to this rare bird. I grab the envelope and hide under the desk.
The raven does not move nor does it make a sound.
But some other unidentifiable sound fills the air, one that sends a metallic taste to my mouth. The sound gets louder and louder until the windows shatter.
The sound is cut off by the ringing of an old fashion telephone. The sound was more eerie than the caw of the raven.

Two pairs of orange tennis shoes appear in front of me, I can see them from desk.
"Come out Lenore. Come out, come out where every you are." A man's voice coaxes.
I squeeze the envelope tighter into my chest and hold by breath. The must not see the raven on my desk or maybe the thing had the smarts to leave.

"Oh Lenore, you can't hide forever." The man says. "We will find you. It's only a matter of time."

"Ha." Laughs a different male voice. "That's funny. Time. What Lenore doesn't know is that the clock has broken. What is time anymore?'

I gasp too loudly, the two pairs orange shoes rush toward me, their arms rip me out from under the desk, taking the envelope from my grasp. But these men are the least of my worries.

The clock has been broken.
Time is collapsing.
 

Understand This

I don't usually watch the daytime new shows because I try to avoid all of the stupid biased gossip, but today I just had it on while I was cleaning so I didn't get distracted by watching something I actually liked.

Anyway, one of the ladies on the couch (Throne of ignorance) said something that really made me mad.

"Men don't try to understand women, because women understand women and they hate each other."

Seriously???? Women who hate each other obviously don't understand each other. You might not agree with them, but if you understand where they are coming from you should respect them in tha aspect that you are two different women and have two different opinions. Agree to disagree. I guess sadly not everyone thinks like that.

This angers me to the depths of my soul. Hate is NEVER ok. And understanding should not lead to hate, it should lead to well, I don't know, maybe understanding??? Seeing things from other peoples point of view is a skill everyone should have.

I may not agree with a lot of people, including other women, but even then I don't hate them, I may not even understand them, but there should never be a reason to hate someone. Especially over something as understanding. Which in my opinion should diffuse hatred instead of grow it.

Women should empower one another, society as a whole is always trying to label and put us down. Why should we do it to one another when we know how it feels. To me that is evil, how could you put someone down when have been that low.

In the Bible it tells us to love our enemies and pray for those that persecute you, so even if you do understand them and hate them more because you understand more then think on that.

Hate is unhealthy and holding a grudge is like drinking poison and expecting the other person to die while you rot from the inside out.

NaNoWriMo

So guys!! Its almost that time of year again! NaNoWriMo!

For those of you who don't know November is National Novel Writing Month, and I have decided to participate this year. It'll be the first time I've ever done it. I found out about it last year in December so I couldn't do it. But I'm really excited!

I would be lying if I said I wasn't nervous. In NaNoWriMo the goal is to finish writing a novel in 30 days, that's 50,000 words. What you do is make a profile on the website and submit your word count. Like I said before, this is my first time participating so I don't know enough about it to explain it well.  So here's the link to the website if your are interested.

But, now that I'm doing this, I think I'll start with a clean slate. A fresh story, New world and new point of view. Who knows? Maybe this will help kick start my creativity again because, I'm not going to lie, I've been in a little bit of a slump.

I was thinking of different worlds I could create. I was thinking of creating a world where you couldn't feel your emotions. You could only taste them.

Like mad would taste ashy and sulfuric.
Happiness would taste smooth and sweet,
Peace would taste bitter like a hot cup of tea in the morning.
Love, well, love would be hard. I had a hard time thinking of what love would taste like. Would it taste like fire, because of passion? Or would it taste like sweet, but obviously a different kind of sweet than happiness. But being it love is being happy, so maybe it would be a combination of the taste of different emotions. I'm not sure. Love is something unique to each person so I feel like it would taste different for each person as well.

This idea sounds really hard to write a whole novel in, so I think I'll just save it for like a short story or a poem. I'll be doing some serious brain storming over the next couple of days preparing myself for November first. Whatever is it I decide on writing, I'll be posting it on here chapter by chapter.

I'm excited! I can't wait to start a new project in a new world with new characters!

I just hope I can keep to this and actually do it, 50,000 words is a lot and I have a hard enough time as it is trying to schedule in writing my other project. Keep me in your prayers!

I will keep all of you posted! Also if you are going to do it, add me! A.S Lamoore 
With the caps and the dots and the space, in that order!

Pulling out my hair

Writing a book is a horrific experience. Filled with many late nights, many cups of coffee and I don't even like coffee I just drink it because it makes me stay awake. Not to mention aggravated parents because you stay up so late. Tears. And plenty of tears.

I just turned in seventeen chapters to my editor and I'm panicking. To me writing is something I do with every fiber of my being. I put my heart and soul into everything that I write and I know this draft isn't perfect so there will be some constructive criticism.

I never knew how close I was to being finished until talking to my editor. All I need to do is write and ending then I'm done drafting. Easier said than done. 

There is so much going on I just can't get myself to write my story. It feels like the world is trying to throw everything at me all at once so I can't do this. Writing is my escape, but it's like I'm locked in a jail cell, searching for the keys through the bars and coming up empty. 

If feels like I'm never going to finish, that twenty years from now people will come up to me and ask me how my book is doing and I'll tell them the same thing I've told all of you. "I submitted seventeen chapters to my editor and all I need is an ending." 

Oh God help, please. 

Eternity feels longer than Forever

"I have aged in the months since my husbands death and my diagnosis. My skin has the wrinkled appearance of wax paper that someone has tried to flatten and reuse. My eyes fail me often- in the darkness, when headlights flash, when rain falls. It is unnerving  the new unreliability in my vision."

These are the beautiful words of the talented Kristin Hannah. These are the words that made me realize that this life passes so quickly, its frighting. 

This was the second paragraph of the book and I just had to put it down. It painted such a vivid image in my head of what my future holds. It terrified me. I was so overcome with sadness at the thought of living long enough to see all my loved ones die. Of how my own body, that is so reliable and strong now, will one day fail me. My once perfect vision will fade and my strong legs will weaken and will need the assistance of a walker or cane. Will my mind fall apart? What if I couldn't write anymore? What if my eyes became so bad I couldn't read? What if I would become so weak I couldn't take a walk in the woods. All of the hope I held so dear to my hear of the future shattered in my grasp. I was afraid.

  I always made a joke that I will live to be one hundred because I want to experience all of God's gift he put on this earth before I leave it. But I never stopped to think what that would in-tale. 

We are blessed with maybe eighty years if the Lord blesses us, to live on this planet. Seems like a lot. But it's not. We are like may flies. One day here and the next day gone, dissolving back into the ash in which we were created from. 

So whats the point? What significance does my life bring? I agree with Augustus Waters fear of oblivion. There will come a time when everyone who ever knew us will die and it is like we never existed. 

When I walk outside, I think back through the ages. How many graves do I walk over? There was not always lush grass under my feet. God knows how many bodies died at the spots where I stood. And I don't even know their names. I feel like I owe those ghost something. I try to imagine what kind of life they lead when they were alive and honor their spirit silently, to myself. Because one day I'll be the ghost another far off stranger will be walker over, and I would want the same.

But as tragic and hopeless as this all seems.

 There is a hope.

Forever the dust of our bones will cover the earth, and even this world will pass away. But in our eternity we will sit by Jesus' side, in our true home. God's heavenly kingdom. You see after our bodies wither away and our souls are forgotten on earth. Our spirit will go to Him. As long as we invested in our eternity while we lived like may flies. Jesus died for us so we could escape from the fear of oblivion and burning in the fiery pit.

It's no joke. 

But you don't get saved from humanities curse by being a good person or just because you say you are saved. Or because you choose not to believe. Ignoring it doesn't mean it doesn't exist. 

"I am the way the truth and the life. No one comes to the Father except through me." John 14:6

Jesus is our golden ticket to our eternity. Not only does He give us an eternity with Him. He makes our short lives in this world meaningful. We are called to be soldiers. To fight against the enemies evil plans, and to fight against our own flesh. We are ambassadors of the one True King. Spreading good news and guiding Jesus into the lives of others, saving their souls. 

It you don't think that is important then you have never been in the service of a King. Not only are we his soldiers, but we are His children. We are Princes and Princesses. Members of the Royal Guard. 

And to me, that's what makes our short lives meaningful. To work as hard as we can to destroy our selfish empires and expand His kingdom. So that when my time comes, when my vision starts to fail and my body weakens. I can wait in anticipation to see my Lord's face, to hear him say the words. 

"Well done my good and faithful servant." 

My thoughts on flaws

Flaws.

I hope you weren't looking for some inspirational post about how flaws are what make you beautiful and nobody's perfect and all that jazz. If you are, you have come to the wrong post.

As much as that is all true I'm going to talk about author flaws.

I was on good read the other day and I came across a review on John Green.

The review went a little something like this: (Its not word for word but its the jist of it.)

"I first read The Fault In Our Stars and I absolutely loved it. So much so I went on a John Green reading binge. But I was author blind. I read all his books and realized how flawed they all are. His characters voices in the books sound all the same. They are good reads but there is too many flaws."

First of all...NOOOOOOOOOOOO not all of his voices sound the same, yes they are all kind of that dorky, quirky personality but they are all different.

Second: ALL AUTHORS HAVE FLAWS IN THEIR WRITINGS!!!

J.K Rowling has admitted to switching rooms around in Hogwarts.

The classics that we praise so highly of are not even perfect, if they were why would they have annotated versions of them.

Gosh.

Plus John Green is my favorite so I had to defend him.

Scavenger Hunt For Souls

So you found this. Maybe you just randomly found me on google plus, or maybe even my blog was the next one after the "next blog" button on blogger. Maybe you were even lucky enough to get one of my little cards off my mom, despite my quiet protest because as much as I love her support, at times I get a wee bit embarrassed, you know being a daughter and all. But it is appreciated nonetheless.

Whatever ever road you travelled to find me it doesn't matter because you're here now. Prior to this you probably weren't too sure on what you'd find on a future author's blog. Would she have short stories? Annoying little blurbs about her insignificant life, well rest assured there is both. But you did find this post, and I believe it was not by accident.

I don't know what any of you are going through. I don't know what trials God is guiding you through, or if you even believe in God. Maybe you hate His guts and you still don't know why you are even still reading this blasted post. But I promise, whoever you are, this post is for you.

I was listening to Rend Collective and the song Alabaster came on and it brought me to my knees. I was dealing with some hard stuff in my life. And life being life it wasn't something tangible, I couldn't touch the chaos with my hands. My outside life was fine, happy family, best job in the world But on the inside I felt broken. Life can throw us some curve balls, horrible circumstances, shocking tradedy As horrible as those things are, I believe some of the hardest battles we have to face is the ones being waged between our own two ears. They are the ones we throw on a happy mask for because we are too afraid to admit something is wrong and we would rather act like everything is fine. Come up with excuses not to talk to our friends or family about it, which alienates us and  ultimately makes it worse for ourselves.

So anyway back to the song, Alabaster. There is a line that goes:

 

I am broken at Your feet

like an alabaster jar

every piece of who I am

laid before Your majesty.

 

This really struck a cord with me because I have this think about brokenness. Like I used to think that I was the only one in the whole world who was broken. ( I was only 17 don't hold I against me.) Obviously I was wrong. Everyone is broken in someway, some more than others.

 

 

In my church, we have these gorgeous Tiffany stained glass windows that are 200 years old, well they will be in 2017. I've looked at them almost every Sunday since I was 5 and they started just to blend in and I stopped noticing them. Well I had a thought one day that brought my attention back to them, when you look at stained glass all it is, is a bunch of broken glass dyed then placed together to create something absolutely breath taking. If an earthly man can do that to mere glass, imagine what your Father in Heaven could do with your broken pieces. He has a rather marvelous gift of turning broken into beautiful.

 

Up close, stained glass doesn't make a whole lot of sense.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

But as you back up you see the bigger picture.

 

 

 

 

It might not make sense now, but place your broken pieces at His feet, surrender to Him and watch as He takes your pieces and make them beautiful.

 

This post went really off what I was originally going to talk about but I know somewhere out there someone will get something out of this. Whether tonight, tomorrow or ten years from now.

 

When I wake up tomorrow I know I'm going to instantly regret posting this and will want to take it down, but I promise I won't. I'm not really on for speaking my deep thoughts, it makes me feel vulnerable and I hate that.

 

But I am a stained glass window, and I have to let my Creator shine through me

 

The Otherworld

Dreams.

Why is it that we remember some dreams but others are like a black cloud of nothingness. In the mornings light we search our consciousness for a mere ghost of an alternate reality. But what we find is more nothingness.

Nothingness shrouded with mystery. When those sleepless nights place a black veil over my dreams I can't help but wonder if it is my own mind protecting me.

Our minds can be our own worst enemy, but could it be a double agent?

Feeding us our most terrifying nightmares only to blot them out with inky darkness. Succumbing to regret and shame, wanting so desperately to fix the mess that it created.

Or maybe our mind is truly our enemy and it steals away the only paradise we have on this Earth. Our 8 hour ticket to the Otherworld.

A place where thoughts bounce amongst the stars and our bodies slide in and out of  Saturn's rings. Where we can fly and be with loved ones that are no longer here.

The Otherworld is vast space, as wonderful as it is horrifying. But what scares me the most is not the experiences we have during our visit but how powerful our minds are to erase such a visit.

True Colors

I always knew writing a novel would not be easy. What I didn't know was hard painful it would be. When I first started outlining I had my plot down. I knew from start to finish what was going to happen and why.

Well now I just want to cry. What I wanted to happen is happening differently. What I thought what would happen is not. And now my characters have taken on a mind of their own and I can't control them anymore. I am no longer the creator, just the instrument, I am being used.

It is so hard. I give published author's so much credit.

I am on the brink of a breakdown. The thought that I am a little over half done with my manuscript terrifies me because I am so close to being done.

I don't know how I'm going to end. So much editing needs done, I know I'm going to have to cut A LOT  of scenes. I am beyond stressing myself out. Maybe I just need a break.

Book Hangover: Red Queen

 

First of all, WOW!! WOW! WOW! WOW! This book! I cannot express how much I enjoyed reading this!

Victoria Averyard is a master world builder. I was completely sucked into the world she crafted and was blown away by her prose. I can't count how many lines I read where I had to sit there and be like "Yes, that is what magic looks like."

or

*Doesn't say anything, just sits there and absorbs the awesomeness of a well written line.*

 

 
What I admire most about this book is Ms. Aveyard and her ability to create such a real world. I love dystopian novels, they are what I usually read. I enjoy the references to our world even though in those dystopia's our government and way of life is completely obliterated.

The world "Red Queen" is set in is entirely it's own, without it seeming completely out of this world and unbelievable.It is a world separated by blood. Red bloods, normal people like us. And Silver bloods, people who can manipulate their surroundings, and depending on the Silver, the people around them. And then there are the people in the grey areas who are both Red and Silver but stronger than both. It is easily one of my new favorite books. It has a plot twist at the end that will freaking make your brain explode! I actually finished the book Friday morning/ night (2ish am), threw it at the wall then had to repress feelings of wanting to murder things. I had to let myself calm down before I wrote this. I will definently be rereading this very soon. Absolutly one of my new favorite books. I don't know how I am going to handle the year long wait for the sequel. It was a nice break from what I usually read. EVERYONE NEEDS TO GO READ THIS BOOK!!! If you already have what did you think of it? Please do not write any spoilers, all spoilers will be deleted and the authors set on fire. Thank you and go read "Red Queen". You will not be disappointed.

An Old Friend

I breathe in.
I breath out.

Moisture sticks to my esophagus as air slithers down into my lungs. I can see the air but cannot see more than a few feet ahead of me. The hair on my arms gathers water as I pump them faster and faster. I run with smoke in my eyes and death at my back, but death is always at my back. Most of the time I am so far ahead. He feels so far away. Over time though, my legs have grown heavy and my muscles scream in protest. I cannot run for much longer.

I turn sharply and hide behind a moss covered tree. My heart pounds so hard it hurts. Something wet rolls down my face and I can't decide if it is sweat or a tear.

Leaves crunch and twigs snap.

I have never seen Death's face before. The shadow searching for me is nothing like I imagined him to be. He so beautiful it makes me sick, sick to think that the thing taking my soul from me has the face of a guardian angel.

Through the branches black eyes meet my gaze.

Death marches towards me.

"Why are you chasing me?" I shout. I want to move but a warm pulse moves through my veins, relaxing my tired legs.

He does not answer me, he just continues to walk in my direction. The closer he get's I find an odd sense of peace in his presence. I try to fight it, but I cannot help but embrace this sensation that I have never felt before.

"I am not chasing you, I have been following you. Just like I do to everyone till one day, like today we can finally meet. Hello old friend." He says with a smile.

I cannot say anything, I keep telling my brain to tell my mouth to speak but nothing will come out.

"You humans truly amaze me." He says, taking a seat on a rock. My legs finally collapse and I plop on the ground beside him, trying hard not to welcome too much of the warmth.

"Everyday I draw closer and closer to you humans, but you don't notice or seem to care until I am nearly breathing down your necks." He whispers in my ear. "You lived a great life, more fuller than most. I find it an honor to take a soul such as yours. One so vibrant and colorful, full of so many experiences. I am happy you are not a life that was not lived, but that you lived like you knew I was always there."

I nod my head in understanding. I have to admit I never lived my life thinking that death was just inching closer with every passing moment. But I did live knowing that once it was over it was over. I wanted to do and see everything. Which regrettably I don't think I did.

"I promise this won't hurt a bit, I will make it easy."

My mind is foggy, I stare deep into death's eyes trying to find the warmth he emanated, but instead I found coldness that you could only find if you search long enough.

"Just take a deep breathe." He says and my eyes close. A weight is lifted from me and I feel like I am floating. He places his hand on my head.

I breathe in.
I breath out.

Turtles and Driving Stick

I am a turtle saver. I am the savior to turtle kind. Turtles in the Fingerlakes area love me. When they see my car pass them they do not fear. For I Alice Shaw will pull over and save them.

Today, two very awesome this happened.

1: I got Shelby out of the Garage, she got brand new struts and tires. Got her alignment straightened. Baby drives like new! So I have been driving her around town relishing in the awesomeness of smooth driving. No longer do I have to fight her to keep her from pulling to the right. She is as straight as an arrow.

Anyway I made a discovery, I can drive like a racecar driver because Shelby has 3 gears and my 15 year old brother G taught me how to somewhat drive stick. Well as much stick as you can get in an automatic car. (Yeah he's 15 and knows how to drive stick. We have dump trucks and its in our blood. My brothers and I are the third generation to be involved in the asphalt paving business. Tar runs through our veins. But that is a story for another time.)

So I was driving stick on my way home, my heart beating in unison with the roar of my engine as I shifted up gears and down them. I couldn't help but yell "I am SpeedRacer" every time I took off from a stop sign. But something in the middle of the road made me swerve into the parking lot of the Sportsman's club around the corner from my house.

This is Lenard

 

2: Lenard is the giant snapping turtle that I saved! Immediately I jumped out of the car to save it but the closer I got to it the more I remembered how afraid of stuff I am. This turtle looked like a dinosaur. It was scaley with a rough shell. Spikes growing out of it's tale and extending out of its head you know just some horns...... HORNS! I DIDN'T KNOW TURTLES HAD HORNS. This is not Franklin were talking about.

 

(For not 90's children here is Franklin https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=7i9lmz8-oT4 Seriously watch it you missed out in your childhood)

 

But back to Lenard. HORNS!! Freaking horns. Plus the claws? Like if its powerful snapping jaws didn't take my precious fingers from me I'm pretty sure it's claws would just as equally rip through my flesh and claim my appendages.

 

It was too late to turn back. I was already in the middle of the road and cars had stopped to let me save Lenard's life. I know just a little bit about snapping turtles from growing up around where I live and number one rule. STAY AWAY FROM THE HEAD.

 

Also I knew that even though only a wee nub sticks out, they have really long necks.

 

And most importantly I wanted to keep all ten of my fingers and to have all my hand meat still attached to my hands.

 

So I took a few deep breaths, it was life or death for Lenard and I could not live with blood on my hands. I grabbed him from the tail, like the tippiest tip of the tail and pulled him across the way he was going on the road. Which only provoked Lenard causing him to claw at the ground and hiss at me. Did you know turtles can hiss? IT IS THE SCARIEST NOISE EVER!

 

After dragging an angry Lenard across the road I whipped him around and I was immediately overjoyed that I was smart and pulled him by the tail because he whipped his head out and started snapping away. With his neck out it covered a little over 3/4 of his body, right where I thought I could've picked him up by his shell, but thank God for giving me the smarts not to.  

 

After that I did a happy dance because I saved a life, then got back in my car and drove stick home because I know how to do that now.

 

All in all a pretty good day.

 

He is a plethora of snapping turtle pictures just to give you an idea of well IT WAS A FREAKING GIANT SNAPPING TURLE OK AND I AM A WIMP SO I WAS SCARED THIS IS A BIG THING FOR ME.

 

But please join me in saving turtle kind everywhere, if you see one crossing the road stop and let it pass or help it out BUT DO SO CAREFULLY THEY ARE DANGEROUS. Don't be like "Oh Alice is an idiot its just a freaking turtle. I can just pick it up"

YEAH A FREAKING TURTLE THAT CAN BITE YOUR FINGERS OFF AND EAT THEM LIKE FRENCH FRIES.

 

But seriously there are jerks out there that will hit them on purpose for a laugh and that is evil and we need to help decrease world evil one turtle at a time. BUT DO SO CAREFULLY AND UNDER ADULT SUPERVISOIN IF YOU ARE UNDER 18.

 

Here is the plethora of non- Lenard snapping turtles.

 

 



That Is The Question?

 

To sleep, or not to sleep? That is the question.

If I sleep I cannot write, then I won't get anything done, then I won't finish my book and also I won't be able to practice my writing muscles.

But if I stay up and write then I won't be able to wake up in a timely manner. Which means I will not finish my chores early then by the time I can sort of write I have to cook supper. This might also make me too sleepy to write the next day.

But what if I don't write tonight and I go to bed now and wake up in timely matter, get all my stuff done and still don't get time to write.

This makes me very angry. Because when I do find time to write I have to do life stuff. And life stuff sometimes sucks. Like I don't want to be messed with when I am trying to write. I need a do not disturb sign.

The most annoying thing about all the life stuff that gets in the way of writing is when you are finally in the flow and got a rhythm going and people want you to stop right where you are so you can do something.

 

YOU CAN'T JUST CLICK IT ON AND OFF!!! ONCE THE SWITCH IS FLIPPED IT DOES NOT UNCLICK UNTIL YOU ARE DONE!!!

Oh my gosh I'm getting aggravated just writing about it. I hate it so much. Like non-writers do not understand this and its so hard to explain because its a feeling that is so unique I don't know the word for it. It's just something that happens in an artist mind and once it starts it should not be stopped. I feel like it is a crime against nature.

This is why I am getting a writer's shed. Yep you heard it correct. I am going to Thoreau my life away and leave my family, escape into the woods to write and read books alone.

Ok maybe not that drastic but I am getting one. Thank goodness because I am running out of room in bedroom for all my books and writing stuff. I have more papers, books, sticky notes, folders, binders, pens, chewed pen caps, and journals than I do actual bedroom stuff, like floor space.

But I don't know, I'm going to set myself a word count then go to bed. Night all.

Light vs. Dark

Watch as the light cascades through the stain glassed window, as little rainbows are born on your skin. You twirl your fingers in the light and wonder, "Is darkness really the absence of light?"

How could something this beautiful or powerful be overcome by darkness. Why isn't light the absence darkness?

Why is it that we are so afraid of the dark? Why not the light? Darkness may tuck monsters away in shadows but light forces us to stare our terrors in the face. Ignorance is truly bliss.

It is not darkness that you should be afraid of. Because it is in the darkness that caterpillars sprout their beautiful wings and they are never truly the same.

Darkness may be the absence of light, but we can never appreciate the light until we let our eyes adjust to the darkness.

Peace. After my heart rate slows and my breathing is steady.  It is a special kind of peace I find in the absence of light.

Darlings do not run from the darkness or hide from the light, both are essential if we want to live full and happy lives.

Why Don't I Ever Talk About This?

So I had this thought while scrolling through my post.... I talk a lot, a lot, a lot, about writers block. How do you guys even put up with it? I don't know.

Anyway, I wanted to talk about writing. Just writing. The love of writing. Not the hardships or complications that come with it.

I wish I could tell you all I have always wrote, but I haven't. When I was little I would write picture books one was about a horse who lost there mom and went for adventure in a cave.(I don't know where that is but its my earliest writing memory.

When I was in third grade I wrote a Harry Potter fanfic about my own adventures at Hogwarts. (I don't think I would ever share that, it's really quite embarrassing.)

Middle school I wrote about a girl who had a dream about some magic stone.

And out of all the stories that I did write I never finished them.

And as I got older I stopped. I remember staring at blank pieces of paper feeling the pull of something, I don't know how to describe it, it was just a pull to fill the page with words. But I could not find any words.

It wasn't until my senior year in High School that I found out that I was kinda good at this whole writing thing.

Ok, so in my contemporary lit class, my English teacher would give us quarterly projects. One was collage prep stuff, another was a term paper, (which also helped me think I was kinda good at writing) I can't remember the third one, but one of the last ones was doing little writing entries to go into a Senior Scrapbook. Each of the entries had to be about different subjects and then we had like five we could do of our choice.

One of the entries was a creative writing thingy and we had to think of a creative excuse of why we didn't do our homework.

What makes this title ironic is that I almost forgot to do this little assignment. High school me was not very responsible and she was extremely forgetful.

So I woke up the morning the assignment was due and started freaking out. I ended up writing it in 15 minutes before school started and I thought for sure that I was doomed. I thought it was the most boring stupidest story ever. I didn't think it was creative. I thought for sure that my teacher would know that I didn't take the time I was allowed (10 weeks) on it and that it looks like I only spent 15 minutes on it.

But I was wrong.

With that assignment she decided to do a contest in our class. She hand picked her favorites then read them in front of the clad. Mine being one of them.

She told the class to vote on them, and mine won. Mine was the best in the class. I of course was stunned, I thought it was a load of crap!!

Obviously it wasn't.

This changed my whole outlook on writing and I instantly fell in love with it. The only thing I ever thought I was good at was sports. But writing was something completely different. I could create something from nothing. It is the closest thing to magic I will ever get.

But a lot of credit does go to my English teacher, Mrs. M, because not only did she do those entries for the scrapbook but we also kept journals. She would play a song and while the song was playing she was give subjects to write about.

Describe your best day ever, who's your best friend, what about music do you like, stuff like that.

After high school I just started writing about everything and anything that came into my head. Then an idea popped into my head, why not write a book.

My first book idea was a dystopian, it was ok but I got like 65 pages into it and stopped because of my poor planning skills. It never got finished but I still have it filed. Maybe I'll go back to it someday.

Then it was the middle of the night and two words popped into my head. (Keeping them a secret until I am published) I got up and outlined and wrote the ideas for my current book.

I am currently working on what, my 3rd draft? But the others I hadn't finished all the way through because the story just didn't work. I have had to change a few things..... ok maybe a lot of things but I have hit the halfway point in my manuscript and I'm very excited. Things are flowing and the plot is coming along beautifully. I have fully bonded with my characters and my world is somewhat fully constructed, well as constructed as I need it for the first book.

I'm determined to finish a full draft by the end of the year!

But I wouldn't be as far as I am now if it wasn't for M.B. He was truly a God sent. M.B came into my life when I was just about to give up writing my book. I had no motivation, I had no fresh ideas, the plot was falling apart, it was a disaster. But then M.B came along.

M.B owns a physical therapy place in town and my ma and my brother G just started going there, (G had surgurey on his shoulder an ma has a bad back). Well one morning when ma went to her appointment, M.B was in the garage signing his books. Him and ma got talking so she raced home, ripped me out of bed, and drove me to M.B.

We talked for awhile and he agreed to do the editing for my book and give me one of his ISBN number...... for free!!! Also he has a friend who is going to do my cover! He taught me how to get organized because when you are writing a book it is the most important thing. And it really is.

I thank God everyday for sending M.B into my life, if our paths would not have crossed then I know for sure I would have given up writing. Which only makes me want to write more, because God placed this story in my heart and meeting that man only confirmed in me that this is what I'm supposed to be doing.

So, how are your writings coming along? What is your writing story? Have you always wrote? Or are you a late bloomer like me.

P.S when I find that homework excuse writing I will post it for you all!

My Mother Eats Chewbacca

Well, if you have clicked on this, you have fallen into my trap. I came up with this ridiculous name because some website said one way to gain views is to give your post interesting names and what's more interesting than the thought of an ordinary house wife chomping down on a Wookie?
 
In fact my mother does not eat Wookies, or Ewoks, or Taun Tauns.
Speaking of Taun Tauns, what is the temperature of the inside of a Taun Taun............ LUKEWARM!!!

Also I don't usually call my mother, mother. I usually refer to my maternal figure as ma, but ever since I started watching Bates Motel that's what I call her when I am frustrated with her. Also for the rest of this post whenever the word mother appears please read it the way Norman Bates says it.
Thank you.

Ok, back to business. Anyway no Star Wars creatures were harmed in the making of this post. Especially Wookies.

So originally I was going to write about how my mother is a total undercover super hero, but then I went to take a shower this morning and my razor was missing.
You see, my cousin MK got into a bad accident and she had to have surgery, (She lives in Indiana) and my parents drove out to be there for her. Leaving me in charge of my two younger brothers (14, 15). In the process of packing my mother took numerous objects belonging to moi. Actually only two.

1: My razor
2: My face powder

Usually I wouldn't care but today when I got in the shower to shave my legs there was no razor. Which means I had two choices:

1: Wear pants
2: Wear a dress but walk around with Chewbacca legs

I chose option one.

And do you know how sucky is to be a librarian in a library that is 143 years old with an iffy A.C system while wearing pants in the spring? (which has been unusually hot.)  Really sucky, the most sucktastic suck to ever suck at sucking in the history of suckology.

It gets better.

I go to do my make-up and I have to use some old powder I bought when I was 14 when being a cheeto was is in style. (Just kidding it was never in style, I just didn't know how to do make-up back then)

So I go to work with cheeto puff face and hidden Chewbacca legs.

But on the more serious note, my mother is a super hero, even though she hijacked my stuff.

Like I said I was put in charge of my little brothers.

I never really thought that much of it until I had to wake up at 6:30 to take them to school, then go grocery shopping, and you have to do that, that early because then you have to go to work. Then after work you have to cook supper. After supper you have to clean up the mess otherwise you won't have dishes to eat off of. Plus dirty dishes are gross.

And when all that is done you finally start to relax after a long, long day then....... your brothers tell you they don't have any clean clothes so you to do loads upon loads of laundry, starting at 10:30 pm.

So I figure that while waiting for loads to get done I can do some writing. But guess what brain decided to not want to do that because it was too tired.

I give my ma so much credit. Its really hard.

Also props to all the single moms out there that do it all plus MORE on their own, while giving the best to their kids, and raising them to be awesome. You gals are the true super heroes.
Keep fighting the good fight ladies.

Also please refrain from eating all creatures from the Star Wars Universe.

I'm Going To Murder Mother Nature

Oh my goodness I haaaaaaaaaaaaaatttttttttttttttteeeeeeeeeeee springtime!!

Everything that was dead in the winter time resurrects and comes back with vengeance. I am allergic to the air. I wish I could pop my eye balls out and scratch them with some steel wool. Oh my gosh they're so itchy and burny and ugggghhhh!!

You know and I really love flowers and the smell of fresh cut grass. It's not fair that I have to suffer like this. Like what the freak mother nature why to you have to be such a beach you ruin spring time for people are basically allergic to life. And I love life so much and its not fair that every time I walk outside or have a window open in my house that I must suffer at your hands! This is what I go through.

Everyday of my life since the snow melted and stuff grew back.

Wake up.

Blows nose.

Blows nose again.

Continues to blows nose till becomes light headed.

Eat.

Blows nose.

Gets dressed.

Runs out of tissues.

USES FREAKING SAND PAPER ON NOSE BECAUSE PAPER TOWLS SUCK (Insert most horrible thing you can think of here.)

Cry.

Walk around like Rudolph.

Be rejected from reindeer games.

Sit in one spot for 30 min and rub eyeballs.

Cry again.

People ask if you have been crying and you will tell them no, that its just allergies. Which only makes you a half liar.

INSIDE OF EAR ITCHIES.

UPPER MOUTH ITCHIES.

TOUNGE ITCHIES.

Try to figure out ways to assassinate Mother Nature.

Ask your mother for allergy medicine.

THERE IS NO MORE.

Cry.

Sneeze.

Accidently punch self in nose because its a Hulk sneeze.

Which causes a sneezing fit lasting for 2 min. FYI doesn't seem long but its like death.

Repeat for the remainder of the day.

I can't wait till spring is done and things stop pollinating. I don't want to rub my eyes it's so bad for your cornea.

Please tell me I'm not the only sufferer of Mother Natures evilness.

NERDFIGHTERS ASSEMBLE!!

I AM  WRITING IN ALL CAPS BECAUSE I AM SO EXCITED!!

I AM CURRENTLY BEING A LIBRARIAN BUT I FINISHED ALL OF MY WORK AND THERE ARE NO AWESOME PEOPLE WHO WANT BOOKS IN THE LIBRARY AT THIS TIME SO I'M USING THIS TIME TO TELL YOU ABOUT SOMETHING THAT I'M TOO EXCITED TO WAIT TILL I GET HOME TO DO!

LAST NIGHT WHILE WATCHING VLOGBROTHERS VIDEOS I CAME ACROSS ONE WHERE FABULOUS JOHN GREEN WAS TALKING ABOUT CREATING A FAULT IN OUR STARS AUDIO BOOK. SO JUST OUT OF CURIOSITY I WENT ON DFTBA.COM AND LOOKED AND THEY HAVE THIRD EDITIONS THAT ARE LIMITED! THERE IS ONLY 3,000 OF THEM!!! DID I MENTION HE IS THE ONE READING IT!!!




Ok I'm done writing in all caps because my excitement is giving me a headache but anyway I wasn't originally going to purchase said audiobook because I was being a cheep pants but then I started thinking........ I WOULD GET SO MUCH ENJOYMENT FROM LISTENING TO FABULOUS 35 YEAR OLD JOHN GREEN READ THE MOST AMAZING BOOK WROTE FROM A TEENAGE GIRLS POINT OF VIEW. I WOULD LISTEN THE CRAP OUT OF THAT THING!



So I bought said audiobook at 2:30am because that's when I finally decided how much I needed this precious jewel in my life. After I bought it I didn't fall asleep until like, oh, I don't know like 5:30AM because I was so excited about my purchase. I am running on 4 hours of sleep but surviving off of pure excitement and anticipation for my precious audiobook.

When I woke up this morning I started jumping up and down because I'm a nerd and I love stuff. 

…because nerds like us are allowed to be unironically enthusiastic about stuff… Nerds are allowed to love stuff, like jump-up-and-down-in-the-chair-can’t-control-yourself love it. Hank, when people call people nerds, mostly what they’re saying is ‘you like stuff.’ Which is just not a good insult at all. Like, ‘you are too enthusiastic about the miracle of human consciousness’.”

-John Green

I also purchased the extremely limited edition extremely rare that's only available this week only, 2015 QUADRAGOCON SHIRT!!! ! I jumped up and down, screamed, almost hyperventilated, and did my own happy dance for it.

 

I will keep you all posted on the arrival of the fabulous gems.

Oh and also what is your favorite thing about John Green? Also who the eff is Hank?

Brain Has Left The Building

I'm having a rough night.

It is one of those night where I just want to write my book but it is also day three of writers block. I sit down to write and my mind goes blank.

But I'm also sleepy but I don't want to sleep because I want to write but I can't write what I want to write because I have writers block.

So instead I write poems and short stories that have absolutely nothing to do with my book, including this blog post.

There's just something about putting words down and creating stuff that's absolutely addicting. It's just as equally frustrating when you can't make words! ASDFJKL

Like seriously I know what I want to happen but my brain won't think of words!!!! GRRRR!

Maybe my brain has finally had enough. It has quit. Left the building. POOFED away somewhere. Went on vacation and left me here in New York (NOT the city, upstate. Because New York is more than just a city, there's the rest of the flipping state).

Maybe I will go to sleep. Hopefully I'll fall asleep. Possibly I wont.

And that makes me sad.

Well if you're still reading this post I give you a round of applause because this is crap.

Why does writers block exist? Why must writers be blocked? We don't want to be blocked.

All we want to do is create fabulous worlds and deep motivating stories that make people feel warm and fuzzy and sad and mad  and confused and put them in a glass case of emotion and blow holes in our future fans ships. Is that too much to ask for?

I mean come one brain get to work! I need you! Lungs don't get a vacation, and neither does heart or stomach or tongue! Get back to work!

Ugh.