I Blame My Sister For My Book Addiction (Love ya!)

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I was a wee 5 year old lassie when I plopped into my sister’s room and announced with all the fervor a little kid can muster- “I’m borrrrrreeedd!”

Huge thanks to my sister for not kicking me out the door on sight. I woulda done that to me if I was 5, so there must surely be a big vault of patience that you have. Somewhere. It’s hidden with your stash of hazelnut coffee creamer.

So, like any good bookdragon studying for dear life older sister, mine grabbed an old Abeka Book literature reader- those thin fourth grade ones- and told me to finish them off.

And thus, I was drawn into the wonderful, beautiful world of stories.

Man, that last sentence was really poetic. 😛

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I soon discovered that if I read for too long, I would get something akin to a headache slash high. I became addicted to books. 😛 That particular reader would be devoured over, and over, and over, and over, and over again for months to come. And then another reader. And another. In fact, I snatched every single Abeka Book reader and ended up stashing them on my bunk so I could read it at well. The internet was unknown at that time. 😛 Mom didn’t like that I was reading outta my grade level.. which I can’t really blame for, because I got ahold of the BJU Literature books and was trying to figure my way through Treasure Island. 

Also happened to be eight at the time. 😛

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Around my 150th time re-reading the Abeka reads- lo, and behold, the stories are actually snippets from BOOKS.

I had to know more.

I think in the process, my sister’s library card had fees ranking in the $5s… hehe. But if she had a problem with it, she never mentioned it- always bringing out other stories for me to devour when I was done one.

It was through my sister I discovered the beautiful world of Narnia (note: Lion, Witch, and Wardrobe will keep kids entertained for HOURS. Hence how me and one of my best irl friends are still in the Narnia fandom- when you’ve started at the tender age of 3, you’re in for life!) I found myself enamored with Little Women and Little House On The Prarie- I could and would and have and will read those books so many times until the covers fell apart- they were portals to worlds, and my imagination was the sweetest ride there. I practically squealed when I found out the Avengers first came from comic books- “IT’S A BOOK IT’S A BOOK”. But that’s for another post.

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The point of all this?

Sometimes we forget the people who start us off on paths that kinda really do change our lives, and books.. stories.. for all the hype they get, they’re kinda underrated.

So thanks Ates. 🙂

Also this is the rather long intro the video below which explains everything I’m too lazy to type. 😛

Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have a book to read.

And you should go read one too, y’know. 😉

 

life is a highway, Jo

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I Call Myself A Writer

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Today, or at least this month, marks an entire year I started to write seriously.

One year of looking at screens and seeing my story come to life.

One year of playlists.

One year of bacon crumbles.

One full year since Gale Darn became Gale Darn.

One year of hopelessly wanting to meet characters.

One year. 75k worth of words total.

In all honesty, it all started way before last year.

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I think I first got into writing by peeking over my sister’s shoulder. I dunno if I was five or six, but I do remember hearing the worst shriek ever heard in real life, and that I was promptly booted out and placed in the hall for an indefinite period of time.

It mighta been an hour later, but eventually I got invited back in and was allowed to take a sneak peak at my sister’s WIP.

If you’re reading this, Ate, thank you for putting up with me. It means a lot. 🙂

Like a lot a lot. ❤

Anyway, that was my first introduction to the wonderful world of writing: characters, theme, bad guys who were really just overgrown kids, laughing over dialogue, it was awesome. And now that I look back, I’m surprised my sister even let me know her WIP existed. Huh. I mean, I wouldn’t have told my five year old self I had a WIP. But anyway, the whole idea fascinated me for a couple weeks.

Aaaand I forgot about it.

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Fast forward a few years later, and I was 7, puzzling over my first poem. Which was a terrible epic about a Loyalist in the Revolution whose greatest secret was a wig. Yes, no kidding.

My first plot bunny was a crazy tale of a girl who was forced out of her home and roamed the streets of 1950 New York. Again, no kidding. 😛 That particular story begins with a flashback. How entirely original.

All that to say, stories have been in me for a while. I guess now I just decided not to bottle it up anymore.

Or rather, a year ago.

How was it a year?

I’m gonna be honest (which I try to be, for the most part, sometimes painfully so) sometimes I look back and groan. I’ve been writing for a year and I haven’t finished a single draft? I haven’t edited a single complete book? I didn’t even submit any of my stories to anything?

I thought I was a writer.

And while some of that doubt is thanks to nosy people that are also known as family and friends, a good deal of that is thanks to myself.

Publishing would mean the world to me.

And I’m nowhere near that.

Maybe I’m not cut out for this kinda thing. Maybe I should stick to my comfortable old self, the one that daydreamed her stories instead of writing so others could see them too. Maybe I should just let it go. Leave the doc open, but never read through it.

Because if I’m a writer, why on earth am I not writing anything worth writing?

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Thing is… publishing is not why I started writing.

Writing is why I started writing. XD I write because I love to write, because I love putting words on paper.. on or a screen. Whichever I get my hands on first. 😛

So I think I’m done mentally beating myself up over not being a published author of a great series of novels yet. I’ve only been writing for like a year and 6 more years. XD Writing shouldn’t feel like a chore, but something fun, new, something completely the opposite of school. Unless you like school. Then it’s very similar.

But yeah. Here’s to one year, and hopefully more coherent posts to come. 😀

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*coughcough* um, at the same time, I’ve been working on a project that’s been under wraps for a while. 🙂

Life is a highway,

Jo

 

 

A New Month- Torture, Suffering, Pain, Brownies

 

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And just like that it’s November.

Which I refuse to believe, because I swear it was just New Year’s. Where on this earth did the time go? Someone explain. Please.

Am I suppose to recap this month? Probably. So here goes.

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I have 10 crazy assignments and half of them are due tomorrow and I need caffeine of some sort on a daily basis or I will go insane and it’s hot and then it’s cold and I think I’m supposed to be doing NaNoWriMo but school is being mean and I really can’t figure out what Jillian Marshall is up to.

There you have it.

We had thanksgiving, we laughed, we cried, we had pizza, life’s been good, life’s been tough. So lots of stuff going on.

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Been very grateful for good friends who care, and spent hours laughing our heads off. 🙂

Worked and released Izoria’s Choice- which is the start of something that I won’t mention but feel free to wonder XD.

Wrote a retelling, then stopped it, simply because I have got no time.

Got lost on a Saturday and jumped off a tree.

Joined a pretty neat blog tour.

Started waking up early to spend more time with God (Can’t tell you what a blessing this is)

Went skating for the first time in a long time- and managed to borrow 5 wonderful books- 4 of which I managed to finish within 2 days of borrowing it.. 😛

Blogged a lot. More than I normally do.

Ranted quite a bit.

Was a good fangirl and stayed in the loop of every fandom (which is crazy because I spent hours on history and messed up the dates but have no problem coming up with a theory about Connie Kendall’s age)

Listened to some awesome music.

Got homework.

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Life goes on. I am a tired person. 😛 Sometimes it gets really tough, y’know? But there’s grace and there’s chocolate (which I’m certain is an edible form of grace) and we’ll hang in there.

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And well, for this entire monthish, I have picked out, once again, the favorites. You’re welcome.

Playing Faves…

Favorite Song:

Even If by MercyMe

My sister sent this to me on a not-so-good day of mine and.. man. It was, to understate, “my” song. Got me through a lot of hard and easy times.

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Favorite Book:

Again, I hate choosing when it comes to books. Also note that I would gladly pick an alpha-read book but I can’t find the covers 😛 For this month, however, it would have to be…

Anne Of Ingleside, by L.M Montgomery.

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I’ve heard a lot about this book, especially after the trailer for the movie came out, and I finally read it.
To put it simply, it was a heart toucher. Reading how August lived his life, feeling with him as people were the mean hurtful selves they sometimes are- I can’t think of much to not like.
(I was highly tempted to put Anne of Ingleside and talk about how I’ve changed my opinion on the Anne/Gilbert ship but considering how I skipped half if the chapters because it was too wordy, I don’t think I’d do it justice. XD)
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Favorite Quote:

Weeel, to be perfectly honest, there are a bunch of quotes I could come up with, but I’ll just leave you with this one because it means the most. 😉

Eugene Meltsner: He did not die to remove our sufferings. On the contrary, He told us to pick up our crosses and follow Him. In that command, He was telling us that we will indeed suffer, but the suffering could lead us back to God in the same way that His suffering led us all to God.

*nods* Amen, brother. Amen.

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Now. November. What on this earth shall you bring on me? Probably NaNoWriMo. Probably finals. Probably a trip to the library to pay that fine I didn’t have enough change for in July. 😛 Probably a real snow.

And just maybe some extra hope. 🙂

And what with school, a lot of dark nights, and The Ties That Bind, I can use some of that. XD

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Though rest assured, one way or another, you’ll see more of these lens. These slightly skewered, smudged lens.

Goodbye October. It was nice knowing you.

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A Question About NaNoWriMo

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So my mom asked me a pretty good question the other day.

“Are you going to do that thousand words in a month thing?”

“You mean 50k?”

“Well, are you?”

Huh. Am I?

To be completely honest, I have no idea. Which is bad, cause this party is starting in two days and ain’t nothing gonna stop it. But this is gonna be a lot different for me.

For one, there is no cabins, just serious write to live people crushing their goals. Which I’m cool with, but a bunch of the peeps I know aren’t doing it. But a bunch of the peeps I do know are.

For another, COME ON TYPING CURSOR DO YOUR JOB AND APPEAR!! That’s better.

For another another, life tends to be busy in November. Finals seem to loom over the  proverbial head (I was gonna say horizon but autocorrect seemed to think otherwise), Thanksgiving is coming, and it’s literally waiting for Christmas to come. And I know from experience November is crazy for me XD

Also I don’t need to go into how I’m a crazed soul on lattes when I’m seriously writing. I have been known to terrorize people just by asking what’s a good way to stab someone.

(I swear it was pure character research. Just like my tendency to move my hands and shape something is for design. It really is please believe meh.)

But on the other hand, when all is said and done, I am a writer. I love writing. I love seeing my story come alive, and that feeling you get when you hit a thousand words, the click clack, okay I’m an addict I admit it.

I’d love to see someone read my story, the way, say, one reads Wonder. Not that I’ll be good, but there’s a first step for everything, right?

Another thing is I have never finished the whole 50k. Ever. And being the competitive person I am, I want to end that streak.

And there’s so many things I’d love to happen and so many things I ant, but I guess a worthy thing to consider is what God wants.

What does He want me to do?

A friend cleared it up for me. “If you know in your heart God wants you to be a writer, then no matter what anyone’s else tells you, go for it! Don’t let it get in the way of family and school, but go for it!”

Now see, writers have to write.

Looks like I’m gonna have to do some serious checking.

Cause if I commit, I want the entire 50.

Mom, can I answer that question on November 1?

 

Pictures Of the Day: Wherein The Writer Attempts A Delightful Story (Ch. 3)

 

Forgive me, readers, for the lack of continuous blog posts! At the time I was occupied with different errands. Thankfully, I am free to continue this pathetic, un-humorous story about a bunch of flowers.  I hope you all are doing well to bear being bored to death!

So, here goes!

Ak-hem.

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The poor dead rose. Not even a month from Valentines’, and already dead.

The rose was dead. It went unnoticed for a while because of good camouflage. (Also because I never got around to tossing it.) Everyone in the house realized the state of their new favorite plant when the mother screamed, “What happened to my rose??”

The household was alarmed. (And I kept my mouth shut.) After five minutes of examination, the family decided that it was, in fact, dead because of climate change (from the greenhouse to their house).  But for the sake of its former beauty, they kept the rose (also because I never got around to tossing it.)

Yet it was such an eyesore in the home, that everyone despaired. How could such a thing of splendidness turn into.. well.. that?

The drab wall became even more drab, the wooden dresser subjected to glances of boredom because there was nothing lovely to look at. And the clock was stared at with abandon.

Time went by and the rose was completely dried up. But one day, on a snowy and dreary and sad and no internet day, there appeared a lovely vision.

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Another purply flower

A purple orchid plant had come! A wave of relief washed over the household. Its winsome, youthful, fresh from the greenhouse aura delighted the eye and heart of everyone who glanced at it.

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The tale of two flowers.

The rose, however, was so jealous it drooped even more, and wished to be tossed away. The blue vase which held it was devastated, because it knew their time on the dresser was over.

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Thus, the orchid took the place of reigning queen. And thus, our silly little story  is over.

The End.

 

 

Pictures Of the Day: Wherein The Writer Attempts A Delightful Story (Ch. 2)

Ok, I admit it; this story is pathetic.

But it is funny, so, I don’t know, does the fact redeem the pathetic-ness? It probably wasn’t funny, but hey! I tried.

So, that being said, could I interest you in Chapter 2? Here goes!

Ak-hem.

The poor vase was left alone and sad with even sadder stagnant water.

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It went like that for 2 weeks, until the day came when the lonely vase could take it no longer and sobbed its heart out, spilling its water and forcing me to clean it up.

It was so miserable that the owners decided to ignore it altogether and use a bigger vase for a big bouquet of yellowy flowers.

 

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It was beautiful,

It was bright,

But for some odd reason it could not take the place of the previous purply flowers.

Unfortunately, the bouquet also died and was then tossed out, much to the delight of the blue vase.

Still it was so lonely, until the day came when it was greeted by-

The most beautiful red rose!

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This most beautiful red rose, it seemed to the vase was the answer to his wish that he not be alone for Valentine’s day.

It took over the spot for most- admired- when- bored- and need-something-to-stare-at-except-the-clock.

Until,

Sadly it slowly decayed without anything noticing.

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So the once lovely, beautiful rose, turned into a monstrosity of death and decay, much to the anguish of the poor vase.

The End.

Until the Story is continued…