HELP! (I need somebody)

And not just anybody.

So, the majority of my readers and/or followers (if such people still exist out in this cyber-world) are writers, and being writers, are familiar with the concept of NaNo WriMo. But, for the benefit of my non-writer viewers, and for the purpose of making this blog post seem longer, I will explain.

November is National Novel Writing Month. You write an entire novel in a month.

Wow. That was a long explanation.

So a bunch of people here at BYU are getting together to do this. And when I say "getting together," I mean posting on a communal wall in Facebook. But it sounds fun, and while I write pretty fast, I've never actually participated in NaNo. So I think I'll give it a shot.

Here's the kicker—I don't really have anything to write about.

That's why I need you! Yes, you. Leave a comment. Tweet me. Do whatever it is people do on Google+ (aside: is anyone else as completely confused by that site as I am?). Give me an idea of a story. I haven't decided what medium I'll do for the story—I'm not sure I'll actually do a real novel. I might do short stories, or a script. Or a sculpture. Not really. That was just the only other art medium I could think of that started with an "s". Regardless, leave me your ideas.

But not just any ideas. I don't want you to comment and say, "Write a book about a deranged girl and her vampire lover." (Yes, I just made a Twilight joke. Shoot me.) I want you to leave a comment (or some other form of cyber communication) with no more than the first five sentences. You can leave less, if you want, but I don't want a synopsis or a pitch or anything detailed. I just want a start.

Now, to be blunt, I will probably disregard ALL of your ideas. In fact, I might laugh at most of them (but I will not publicly mock them—promise. That should count for something.) But I need a jumpstart for my creative side, and it wouldn't hurt to get a little bit of reader participation on this blog, just so I know y'all are still out there. I'll try to keep everyone updated over the course of the month. That way, NaNo might hold me accountable to both writing and blogging. Wouldn't that be something?

Seriously, has anyone been paying attention to how many times I post about some new strategy to keep myself blogging? I must have done it at least 100 times by now. But who knows? Maybe this one will stick.

Leave your comments. I'll tell you what I decide next week, and we can get the ball rolling on November 1st.

In other news, it's snowing at BYU. The day after my birthday. WHAT IS THIS?

That is all.

WRITING SAMPLE!

      Whereas the last writing sample that appeared on this blog was posted at its conception (and was downright awful), and—

     Whereas the Texas State PTA Reflections contest is now over, so I don't have to worry about getting in trouble—

     Therefore, I have decided to post my short story that one an Award of Excellence (like 2nd-4th place) at the State Level for Writing! (Yeah, it's also a little bit to show off—humor me). 

So, without further ado, here is my short story, "One," inspired by the theme, "Diversity Means...." Note that it is short because it is exactly ONE word under the limit imposed by the PTA. Enjoy.

The door at the bottom of Stairwell Three has a lock. 

I reach for the almost antique sensor pad. How have they not noticed this one? Locks are not needed. Why would anyone keep a secret from themselves? 

The palm of my hand touches the cool metal. It doesn’t move. Doesn’t respond. But the words jar up the bones in my arm, up my elbow to my shoulder to my brain. 

Samesamesamesamesame. Badbadbadbad. 

I should report this. The Maker will want to know. A lock where no lock has the right to be. We have no secrets in the Facility. The place where we create Oneness. 

But the building is not One. 

I file the report quickly, lighting the inside of my eyelids with red streaks of discomfort. Disunity. The report is received at once. I should go. My job is done. 

But my eyes drift back to the door. The handle is retracted into the steel frame, a handle that will not relinquish its secrets without a fight. The sleek metal door is marred only by the small scanner, the small square plate with a single word etched across the top in small, perfect lettering. 

Diversity. 

#

“Do you have a dictionary?” 

Cassidy looks up from the floor, startled by the question. “A dictionary?”

I sit down next to her, moving a stack of discs to do so. “I need to look up a word.” 

She blinks once. Twice. “Something wrong with your eyelids, dufus?” 

The smile at my nickname cannot be held back. I lean forward, brush back her black hair with one hand to whisper in her ear. “It’s not in the database.” 

There is no need for caution. It doesn’t matter who hears—we’re all the same. Nothing can change that. We are all friends. All allies. 

So I can tell, when Cas responds in an equally secretive whisper, that she’s mocking me. “Then it won’t be in the dictionary either, idiot. That’s where they build the database from.” 

“I just need to check. Maybe they left it out.” 

Her grey eyes soften. “Dylan. They didn’t leave it out. It’s probably not even a real word.” 

I shake my head. That’s not it. No one would carve a fake word onto the only locked door in the Facility. But I drop it. Rifle through one stack of the shiny golden discs. “Any progress?” 

The small girl swipes the top one from my stack. “I think I finally cracked the case of John 53428. He had a favorite color.” 

“Really?” My eyebrows shoot upwards, disappearing into my black hair. “What was it?” 

She thought for a moment, closed her eyes. “Almost a teal. But a little lighter. Do they have a name for that?” 

I make a grab for the disc. “Let me see.” 

Cassidy holds it up to her chest. “No. Get your own.” 

“I want to see his color.” I grab her arm, lean close. “Please?” 

Cassidy giggles. “Since you asked nicely.” Then she leans forward to kiss me. 

Behind closed eyes, the flash of red astonishes me. “John 14683. Report to Maker.” 

Cas breaks from me, looking ashamed. It is rare for a message to be private, but it’s obvious that that one was. And that she overheard it. 

I touch her wrist as she stands. “Don’t worry. I’ll be back soon.” 

I start to walk out of the grey room. “Dylan?” 

Turning, I can’t help smiling at her bright eyes. Her soft face. “What was the word?” she asks. 

It takes a moment for me to remember. “Diversity,” I tell her at last. 

#

We were not supposed to have names. 

Names were deemed useless after the Unism. After the Declaration of Oneness. At the same time that hair became black and eyes became grey, names became obsolete. Everyone was John and Jane. All we had to identify ourselves was a number. 

But when you work in the Facility, you learn things. How to Unify minds. How to make them One. And what makes them so not One. Things change. 

When I met Jane 54092, she was just another Jane. The only difference between us was that she was a girl and I was not, the one distinction the Maker made. 

I don’t remember when it was that she started becoming so much more. 

The Maker’s door is just like the rest of ours—plain, grey steel with a riveted outline. There is no lock on his door.

The man’s grey eyes light when I walk in. “John.” The name is said with pride, as if it is inherently mine. “So nice to see you. Please, sit.” 

The room smells sweet. Sickly. I sit in the plush chair, wriggling to get comfortable. 

Lines crinkle around the Maker’s eyes as he sits opposite the desk, his face becoming serious. “I got your message, John. But I’d just like to review the details.” 

“Do you know what diversity is?” I ask the question before I should. It is a break from the expected—we are polite. Never rude. Never interrupting. 

“I’m sorry,” I say immediately. “I was distracted. I don’t know—”

The Maker waves away my apology, not entirely immune to interruptions himself. “Diversity?” he asks. The word sounds foreign on his tongue.

“What does it mean?” I can’t help the softness that laces my voice. The eagerness. 

He sits back. “There used to be so many differences. Eye color. Hair color. Short people. Tall people. Different skin colors. Different colors, can you imagine?” The Maker sighs, shaking his head. “But now, when all we know is Oneness, there is no need for distinction. That’s what diversity was, John—distinction.” 

“Just—being different?” 

The Maker shakes his head, still talking. “Once, people believed there was another Maker. A far better Maker than I, John. Far better. This Maker created the differences in people, wanted people to love and cherish them. That’s what diversity used to be. Freedom.” He closed his eyes, his wrinkles growing more pronounced. “So long ago.” 

There is silence for a moment. Then, the Maker opens his eyes again, looks at me. “We sent a squad down to the bottom of Stairwell Three. They did not find a door.” 

“They—” I am stunned into silence. “They didn’t find anything?” 

“Just a brick wall. No door.”  The Maker leans forward, props his head on his hands so that he can inspect me. “And yet, when I got your message, I could see the door. Clear as day. How is this possible?” 

I shake my head. “I don’t know, sir.” I cringe. Maybe he didn’t notice the title. 

But his eyes narrow, and his jaws tighten. He did notice. “I have a theory,” he says, his voice slow and purposeful. I don’t say anything. 

After a pause, the Maker continues. “I think, John, that you might not be quite One.” 

You’re right, I want to say. My name isn’t John. It’s Dylan. And I am not One.

But I don’t say this. Instead, I hear my own voice. “What do you mean?” 

“You seem to be almost…independent.” His voice hovers over the word, covers it with slime and disgust. An insult. “But that’s to be expected. It takes a special person to see a special door.” 

The room suddenly seems very small. I am going to have to get out of here. “I don’t know what you mean, Maker.” 

The man sits back at this, the correct way to speak. The One way. “Quite right. Off you go, then.” 

His grey eyes don’t leave the back of my skull until the door slides shut behind me. 

#

It was Cassidy who picked the names. Her voice was lighter back then, light and full of excitement. “I’ll be Cassidy,” she said, cheery. “And you’ll be Dylan. I like that name. It’s cute.” 

I raise my eyebrows, and she giggles. “Cute name for a cute guy.” She reaches for my hand, the way she used to before her mother disappeared. “We’ll be the only two people in the world with real names. Isn’t that great?” Her bright eyes stared at mine, filling them with light and wonder. 

Now, as I storm into her room, she looks at me with that same bright intensity. This time, though, she knows that something is wrong. “What happened?” 

“He knows.” I grab a stack of the discs, move them to the closet. “He knows about me. The door must have been a set up.” 

Cas starts to move the discs with me. I keep talking. “I don’t know if he knows about you, too, but you have to hide. I’ll keep the discs safe, but you’ve gotta—“. 

“Dylan.” She says my name calmly. Coolly. “I’m not going anywhere.” 

I stop. “You have to. You have to get out.” 

“No. I’m staying with you. The only way out is through that door.” 

I try to shake my head, but lose grip of my stack of discs. They scatter around the room. “The door was a fake. The discs are important, you’ve gotta keep working.” 

“No, Dylan. The door’s the way out. We can leave. We’re different enough to do it. We’re diverse enough to open the door.” 

My hand pauses on one golden disc. There is a short, endless silence. “How did you know what it meant?” 

“What?” Cassidy sounds distracted, but I hear the drop in her voice. 

“Diversity. How did you know what it meant? How do you know what’s through that door?” My voice is rising at pitch, and I realize I am standing over her. 

“Because I put it there!” she yells. “I put it there, and that’s why they took my mother. I found a way out of here. I found a way where we could be ourselves.” 

“Then why didn’t we go? Why didn’t you tell me? I could have come with you.” I try not to let the pain infiltrate my voice. 

Cassidy doesn’t do the same. Grief fills the gaps between her words. “In a world full of options, would you really have picked me? Diversity means freedom, Dylan. What if you didn’t choose me?” 

Silence.

I step forward. Grab her hand, gently. “I will always want you. I don’t care how many choices I have.” 

When Cassidy looks at me again, there are tears in her eyes. 

“Now come on. We have a door to find.” 

#

The door waits for us at the bottom of the Stairwell. Just like Cas said it would. 

“It would only show itself to someone with a real name. That’s why I gave us both names. So that we could leave someday.” Cassidy’s hand is shaking in mine. 

“So what do we do?” 

She grins. “What do you think?” 

Together, we place our palms on the small square scanner. Finally, a green light. New words jar up my arm, through our joined hands into my mind. 

Goodgoodgood. Openopenopen.

The doorknob slides out of the frame, ready to turn. 

“What’s out there?” I ask. My voice shakes as much as her hand. 

The smile stays on her face. “Let’s find out.” 

The smile is still on her face when Cassidy shudders and collapses into me. A knife sticks out of her back. 

“Freedom’s what’s out there, Dylan.” The Maker stands at the top of the staircase, his grey eyes livid. “But freedom comes at a price.” 

Her hand has stopped shaking. Her eyes are glassy. Her face locked in a perpetual smile. 

“You killed her.” 

“That’s what happens to people who interfere. That’s what happened to her mother. Now her. Do you want to be next, Dylan?” 

I meet his eyes, see myself reflected in his grey pools. See my own eyes, blue with sadness and rage and grief. 

Blue. Almost a teal, but a little lighter.

“No,” I tell him. “I don’t want to be next. I want to be free.” 

With Cassidy in my arms, I turn and run through the open door. Into freedom.

Into Diversity. 

"The Night Circus"

     Hello, BlogWorld! I'm sorry I've been gone for such an infernally long time, but--as you all are very aware--I'm bad at posting. I promise to start posting more often (it's summer now, and I'm in a new town with nothing to do, so I have no excuse). I also promise to post more than book reviews, but I've read so many good ones recently, so that might be tough. Today's piece of modern literature (and yes, I said modern literature. There is such a thing, kids. Good books don't have to be old and boring): "The Night Circus" by Erin Morgenstern. 

     Here is the description from Amazon.com:

   The circus arrives without warning. No announcements precede it. It is simply there, when yesterday it was not. Within the black-and-white striped canvas tents is an utterly unique experience full of breathtaking amazements. It is called Le Cirque des Rêves , and it is only open at night.
   But behind the scenes, a fierce competition is underway—a duel between two young magicians, Celia and Marco, who have been trained since childhood expressly for this purpose by their mercurial instructors. Unbeknownst to them, this is a game in which only one can be left standing, and the circus is but the stage for a remarkable battle of imagination and will. Despite themselves, however, Celia and Marco tumble headfirst into love—a deep, magical love that makes the lights flicker and the room grow warm whenever they so much as brush hands.
      True love or not, the game must play out, and the fates of everyone involved, from the cast of extraordinary circus per­formers to the patrons, hang in the balance, suspended as precariously as the daring acrobats overhead. 
Written in rich, seductive prose, this spell-casting novel is a feast for the senses and the heart.

     Reading this, you might think that this is just another fantasy romance, equivalent to garbage such as "Twilight" (sorry, Stephanie Meyer.) No, sir. This book is filled with amazing imagination, vivid characters, and a plot so intricate and woven together, I'm surprised nobody in the film industry has claimed it (but as soon as I graduate, Morgenstern, I'm coming for you.) 

     But what good would literature be without a message? After all, that is the point of fiction, isn't it--a story set in even the most fantastic of worlds has no value if it cannot be applied to reality. And the message of "The Night Circus": Nothing is ever black-and-white. This book explores morality and ethics in all its many forms--the corrupting force of power, the danger of pride, the cruelties of enslavement--while maintaining a great story in a wonderful world (and yes, even a decent romance). This book will be impossible to put down (I stole my mother's Kindle to read it), and will leave you thinking long after you do. 

     So give up "Shades of Grey." This is the real expert on grey-scale moral quandaries. And there's no porn involved.  

Going Postal

Andrea Pearson, I am so sorry.

I was supposed to review this book like three weeks ago, and completely forgot about it until I got an e-mail from Tristi. So not only is this a) late and b) off-schedule, but also c) written-in-a-hurry and therefore d) not-very-good. But it's here. So...sorry. Again.

So the book I read is called The Ember Gods, the second review in the Key of Kilenya series (for the previous review, as well as purchase information, click here). Here's the blurb:

Jacob Clark has just returned from the world of Eklaron, where he frustrated the evil plans of the Lorkon and returned the magical Key of Kilenya to its rightful owners. His quest is far from over, though—Aloren is trapped in Maivoryl City by the Ember Gods, and Jacob can't return to save her until he receives the potion that will protect his team from the corrosive influence of the Lorkon.

Balancing between this new world and his own proves tricky. Not only has he started his first year of high school, but his magical abilities are bringing him too much attention. He feels pulled by both sides, hoping he'll figure out his special powers to save Aloren in time.

Once again, I felt that Andrea Pearson's Middle Grade novel is just that much above and beyond the norm. The characters feel more real, the plot seems more substantial, and the dialogue has more flavor. Overall, The Ember Gods is a good read, well worth your time.

First, the characters. The arcs that started in The Key of Kilenya continue to develop throughout the second book in the series, including some revelations (don't worry--no spoilers) about Jacob's past that I found creative and exciting. My one sort-of complaint in this category--one that isn't really Andrea's fault, just a plot thing--is that I didn't get to hear enough of Aloren. I really liked her character and her voice in the first book, but with the kind of huge plot problem of her being locked away for the majority of the second, I as the reader didn't get to hear much from her. Overall though, great job.

Second, the plot. Again, Andrea strikes a clever balance between the magical and the mediocre, with Jacob forced to divide his time between his world and Eklaron. At times the plot leaps boggled my brain (for no more than a few paragraphs), but when looking at the book from a Middle Grade perspective (something I think we reviewers do far too little), the plot is absolutely perfect. Andrea is golden in the area of appealing to her audience and giving those little tykes something with which to keep themselves occupied.

Finally, the dialogue. In Kilenya, I was relatively impressed with the dialogue, mostly with how it progressed the plot and the character arcs. This time, I knew enough about the story to focus on the dialogue for the sake of dialogue, and again Andrea succeeded. The dialogue is real, exactly tuned to the language of Middle Grade, and overall impressive. Again, I wish I could have heard more from Aloren, but that's the fault of the Lorkon, not Andrea. Kudos.

So overall, I definitely reccommend The Ember Gods for any adventerous Middle Grade-rs, as well as for some slightly more (or less, depending on your point of view) adventerous adults. And I'm sorry for being late.

Rating: 4 out of 5

The Fault in Our Stars

So I have a problem. Well, to put it more accurately, you have a problem. You see, I have so little time on my hands that it restricts the number of books I am able to read. This means that I only read the very best books available, and you have to sift through reviews that really only consist of "Wow, this book is amazing."

Wow. This book is amazing.

John Green never ceases to amaze me. I am not--strictly speaking--always a great fan of YA contemporary because of the teenage boy/girl writing that ususally accompanies the storyline, in which an author insists on writing dirty-mouthed, horny teenagers who want nothing more than to cuss/hate their life/get laid. When the author doesn't do this, though, the powerful storyline comes through to grab your heartstrings and hold them hostage.

And John Green's storyline in The Fault in Our Stars in the most powerful yet.

Here's the jacket blurb:

Despite the tumor-shrinking medical miracle that has bought her a few years, Hazel has never been anything but terminal, her final chapter inscribed upon diagnosis. But when a gorgeous plot twist named Augustus Waters suddenly appears at Cancer Kid Support Group, Hazel’s story is about to be completely rewritten.
Insightful, bold, irreverent, and raw, The Fault in Our Stars is award-winning author John Green’s most ambitious and heartbreaking work yet, brilliantly exploring the funny, thrilling, and tragic business of being alive and in love.

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I really don't have words to describe how much this book moved me. I went from laughing to crying to cracking up to bawling in a span of about thirty seconds. It is touching, deep, moving, philosophical, humorous, and beautiful all at once, as it addressess some of the most important questions ever to lodge themselves in human consciousness: will I be remembered? Is love really forever? And, perhaps most importantly--why are eggs only a breakfast food?

Fantastic book, and a great read. I will definitely try to find some more good contemporary.
Rating: 6 stars / 5 stars (an extra one for the Shakespearean title)

Posting of the Blog

Wow. I wish I had something to say. Sometimes, I think the posession of this blog--and the necessary maintenance that accompaines it--makes me much less of a vocal person than I normally am. Does that make sense to anyone else?

I could be putting another book review on here, as those are 1) the most successful things I post; 2) the easiest things I post; and 3) the most applicable things I post. Also, I've read a lot of books lately. But I'm not going to. Why?

Because I am lazy.

So what, then, am I going to be posting about? In all honesty, nothing. I'll give you an update on my quest for publication: so far, I have three rejections, one partial request, one full request (YAY!), and one who has neglected to this point to respond. So far, so good.

Other than that, I really have nothing to talk about. I have a new book idea (or six). Not that I can call them ideas--they're far less substantial than an idea is generally accepted to be. But here's the first sentence of my next project, Solipsa:

"The world ended the way it was always going to end--on Facebook."

And that...is all I've got. We'll see where it goes from there. Right now, actually. Because, since my options are 1) continue reading 1984; 2) read Chapter 9 of McConnell's Economics Textbook; or 3) stare at the computer and arbitrarily hit keys, I think I'll pick the last one. Wish me luck.

And maybe, you'll get a book review soon.

That Awkward Moment...

when you finish a book and wander around your house in a daze for hours because your life has lost all meaning.

It's been a long time since I've read a book that was that good. But wow. Philip Pullman, you did it to me again.

Really, this is a review for all of the His Dark Materials trilogy, even though the picture only shows The Amber Spyglass. Here's the synopsis Amazon gives for the whole series:

The Golden Compass forms the first part of a story in three volumes. The first volume is set in a world like ours, but different in many ways. The second volume is set partly in the world we know. The third moves between many worlds.

In The Golden Compass, readers meet 11-year-old Lyra Belacqua, a precocious orphan growing up within the precincts of Jordan College in Oxford, England. It quickly becomes clear that Lyra's Oxford is not precisely like our own—nor is her world. In Lyra's world, everyone has a personal dæmon, a lifelong animal familiar. This is a world in which science, theology and magic are closely intertwined.

The Subtle Knife is the second part of the trilogy that began with The Golden Compass. That first book was set in a world like ours, but different. This book begins in our own world.

In The Subtle Knife, readers are introduced to Will Parry, a young boy living in modern-day Oxford, England. Will is only twelve years old, but he bears the responsibilities of an adult. Following the disappearance of his explorer-father, John Parry, during an expedition in the North, Will became parent, provider and protector to his frail, confused mother. And it's in protecting her that he becomes a murderer, too: he accidentally kills a man who breaks into their home to steal valuable letters written by John Parry. After placing his mother in the care of a kind friend, Will takes those letters and sets off to discover the truth about his father.
The Amber Spyglass brings the intrigue of The Golden Compass and The Subtle Knife to a heartstopping close, marking the third and final volume as the most powerful of the trilogy. Along with the return of Lyra, Will, Mrs. Coulter, Lord Asriel, Dr. Mary Malone, and Iorek Byrnison the armored bear, The Amber Spyglass introduces a host of new characters: the Mulefa, mysterious wheeled creatures with the power to see Dust; Gallivespian Lord Roke, a hand-high spy-master to Lord Asriel; and Metatron, a fierce and mighty angel. And this final volume brings startling revelations, too: the painful price Lyra must pay to walk through the land of the dead, the haunting power of Dr. Malone's amber spyglass, and the names of who will live—and who will die—for love. And all the while, war rages with the Kingdom of Heaven, a brutal battle that—in its shocking outcome—will reveal the secret of Dust.

I read these books first when I was seven or eight despite the warnings of grown-ups who thought the books were way too anti-religious. I got all the way to the end of The Amber Spyglass, past all the atheist themes and anti-Christian stuff and was just find...until (spoiler alert) Will and Lyra had to part. I was shocked and devastated, and threw down the books promising never to read them again.

And now, when I thought I was a little wiser and stronger, I read them again. And I cried all over again like I did when I was seven, but WOW! The ending is phenomenal.

For those of you who are Mormon, or who are devoutly religious, these books are definitely a challenge to read. The Golden Compass and The Subtle Knife aren't too bad--really, they just seem anti-Catholic--but The Amber Spyglass is a little more candid. But if you can not get offended and see Pullman's point (or even just get past it enough to enjoy the storyline) you will be blown away. And I can guarantee that you will cry at the ending. I think I will be depressed for the rest of this day, and probably for the rest of the week.

But hey. That's when you know the book is good, right?

Rating: 5/5. (I promise--I won't give every book I review a 5. We just got lucky.)

Don't forget! If you see this post, please give me a book to read!!! Please.

Review--"Out of My Mind."

As promised, here is the first book in my review series--Sharon Draper's Out of My Mind. Here's the jacket info:

Eleven-year-old Melody has a photographic memory. Her head is like a video camera that is always recording. Always. And there's no delete button. She's the smartest kid in her whole school—but no one knows it. Most people—her teachers and doctors included—don't think she's capable of learning, and up until recently her school days consisted of listening to the same preschool-level alphabet lessons again and again and again. If only she could speak up, if only she could tell people what she thinks and knows . . . but she can't, because Melody can't talk. She can't walk. She can't write. Being stuck inside her head is making Melody go out of her mind—that is, until she discovers something that will allow her to speak for the first time ever. At last Melody has a voice . . . but not everyone around her is ready to hear it.

All I can say is...wow.

This book blew me away. The greatest thing about YA contemporary are the characters and how real they are, and Melody is no exception. She amazes me, and makes me feel just the slightest bit guilty for all the things I have in my life that she doesn't. Even pressed between pices of paper and little black marks, this girl impresses me with her dedication and endurance. I could never have done what she did.

Draper fantastically weaves a story together built of little more than the thoughts of a crippled girl, and makes you laugh and cry simultaneously with her voice. An amazing book from an amazing author.

Rating: 5 stars (out of 5)

If you read this post, give me a book to review. Or several. I'm almost out of good books to read. 

Arcs

Specifically, those of characters, plots, this blog, and the rest of my school year.

First, a bit of good news. Actually, a lot of good news. My voice essay for the Voice of Democracy Scholarship Competition is a State Finalist! That means, in January, I will be in Austin for fancy banquets and tours (not, I think, though, to meet Rick Perry.) Whoo!

Still waiting on agent feedback. Of course, I kinda sent it off at the very worst time for the agents, but I didn't really have a better option, being in school and all that. The countdown to graduation has begun. Well, no. It began awhile ago. It has begun in earnest now.

So my dearest mother thinks I need to blog about something useful. I know--what does she think this blog is? A writing blog? But, to honor her request, I will blog about something near and dear to my heart--LOST.

LOST, and its semi-sequel ONCE UPON A TIME (abbreviated here as OUAT) are largely character-driven TV shows. You take a set of believable characters--almost to the point of being stereotypical--and then you subvert their archetypes by revealing their back-stories and putting them in weird interactions with each other. So basically, they're the best things ever, and the writers of these two shows are the people who have made me want to be a TV show writer. Thanks, guys.

For example. In LOST, you have a set of characters. You have the hero/doctor. The pretty girl. The fat guy. The pregnant girl. The junkie. The outdoors-man. The bad Asian (arranged?) marriage. The caustic Southern. But this isn't who they really are. The hero is afraid of failure. The pretty girl is a criminal. The fat guy is cursed. The pregnant girl isn't helpless. The junkie used to be religious. The outdoors-man is a cripple. The Asians are deeply in love. The Southern watched his parents die. All of the characters have something in their past that makes them different. Unique. And that is what makes a show breathtaking.

So what do you do with these characters, then? In a show like LOST, with a metaphorical Hell on the island, the only way to kill a character is to actualize him (actually, this goes for a lot of shows--they're just more subtle about it). Like Boone. This is the first character to die in the show, one who is incestually (ish) involved with his stepsister. Ugh. Anyway, before he dies, Boone undergoes a transformation. He lets go of Shannon, stops being useless, and finally gets himself involved with actively trying to get off of the island. And then...he dies. So sad.

The basic goal of any TV show is to get all the characters to where they are supposed to end up. You actualize them, make them happy. Sometimes, if it's earlier on in the show, you kill them. If it's later, you leave them happy (although usually not perfectly happy--you don't want a gooshy ending).

So there's my useful blog for the day on character arcs. Also, I want to introduce a book reviewing series on this blog, for two reasons. 1) I enjoy the practice and 2) I REALLY need good books to read. So, since the majority of people who see this blog post will be writers, I want you to leave a comment below of one or more awesome books that I can read. Any genre will do, preferably YA, but I will NOT (no exceptions) read Women's Fiction, Paranormal, or Romance. Sorry. Not gonna happen. If those are all the books you read, I exempt you from the Book of Awesomeness Comment Rule.

Have fun. See you soon. Ish.

I need to post.

No, really. I need to post. But I don't know what to talk about. And I have the strangest idea that nobody is listening anyway.

I sent Flash off yesterday, and already have one partial request! Hooray! (Yes, you guessed it--that's why I need to post. Keeping up the Internet presence and all of that). So you will all be hearing more about that very soon.
School...is school. Finals are almost done, and then we are on the home stretch! Guess that means I should start writing a speech, huh?
Ooh. What's a graduation speech supposed to be like?

I know you quote random sources, like Benjamin Franklin and Hannah Montana, but what am I supposed to say? Congrats, class of 2012! Don't get too fat before the twenty-year reunion?
No. No, let's not do that. I'll come up with something better than that.
What about you? Ideas? What should a graduation speech be to you?
Oh! And also, I finally (finally) restarted piano lessons. My first lesson consists of: Debussey's Reflection, (I think that's what it's called, but I'm really too lazy to go look. I literally just woke up--hence the rambling?); Braum's Rhapsody 2, and Bach's Invention 1. My teacher requested that I only practice on a grand piano from now on.
So...anyone got a grand? I'll buy it from you for five bucks.
And now that I have a) rambled incessently on the Internet so that y'all know who I am; b) given you an update on my life; and c) left you with a deep and insightful question (the graduation speech one, idiot), I think my work here is done. Because I have nothing else to say.
And, I'm tired. So goodnight. You might just (if you're lucky) see me in the morning.

Well.

What should I blog about? This is me, sitting in English. The most productive class of the day...and we're done in twenty minutes.

Yeah. College did wonders for my senioritis.

On the upside, there's a debate tournament on Saturday. And the pumpkin chunkin' is tomorrow. It's where the physics kids build trebuchets and litter the band field with pumpkin shells.

Yeah. It's pretty much awesome.

So how are y'all? I noticed that no one looks at my blog anymore. Not that I blame you. It's not like I'm good at posting.

I wrote a short story for the Reflections contest. The limit was 2000 words and this story was exactly...2000 words. But I'm pretty proud of it. It's about diversity, so of course it's super dystopian. Sort of like Harrison Burgeroune. but more awesome--cause it's mine.

I've also decided to enter the photography contest, so I need some ideas. The theme is 'diversity means...' so what do you think? Let's hear your suggestions.

You should note though: the deadline is tomorrow. So if you have ideas, you better tell me like NOW. I promise not to steal them.

Key of Kilenya

So, I apologize for the two-week hiatus. I wish I could promise that it will be gone for good, but...school is way busy. After this, I may go off the radar again for awhile. But don't give up on me just yet.

First, a couple personal messages. To Jude--I'm sorry. I won't be talking about your animal rights thoughts just yet. I will get there. I promise. To Andrea Pearson--I'm sorry I'm a day late. Life got to me, and on top of that, Blogger decided to hate me on the one day I needed it. At least it's only one day.

All right. For those of you who don't know, today is my day to review Andrea Pearson's Key of Kilenya. So here we go.

The Key of Kilenya is a middle-grade fantasy novel written and published by Andrea Pearson this year (2011). First, a little background:

     "When two vicious wolves chase fourteen-year-old Jacob Clark down a path from our world into another, his life is forever changed. He has no idea they have been sent by the Lorkon--evil, immortal beings whoa re jealous of powers he doesn't know he possesses--powers they desire to control.
     "The inhabitants of the new world desperately need Jacob's help in recovering a magical key that was stolen by the Lorkon and is somehow linked to him. If he helps them, his life will be at risk. But if he chooses not to help them, both our world and theirs will be in danger. The Lorkon will stop at nothing to unleash the power of the key--and Jacob's special abilities."

This book is imaginative, thrilling, and fun. I loved the imagination and emotion Andrea managed to weave through the entire quest and plot of the book. I will try not to give away any spoilers (so that all you blog-readers will go read it--purchase link above the cover art!), but I want to say a few wonderful things about this book.

First, the plot. Andrea manages to take a typical, middle-grade plot line and elevate it to a new level of imagination. Unique creatures, exciting encounters, and mysterious journal entries combine to give the reader a reason to keep reading, something I have a hard time finding in the typical middle-grade novel. Kudos to Andrea for making this read interesting and worthwhile.

Second, the characters. Again, Andrea manages to insert her own unique style without crossing any boundaries. Her characters are humorous, intense, and in some cases downright strange (I'm thinking of a crazy old man with nuts), yet convey the story nicely and with ease. There are almost no duplicate characters--each has a voice the reader can recognize and fall in love with. Again, kudos.

Third, the dialogue. This is where I feel Andrea truly shone as a writer. Not only does she convey the storyline and necessity of the quest with the conversation, but she also manages to inject humor, romance, and even a little bit of good ol' Mormonism into her characters' language (don't worry, all you non-believers. You wouldn't recognize it unless you were a Mormon. You can read the book religion free). Andrea takes the parameters for a normal middle-grade novel and elevates them to the next level, giving the book a fresh and appealing feel.

So, overall, I have to recommend The Key of Kilenya. The plot, characters, and dialogue all combine to make the novel an enthralling, entertaining, and enjoyable read. Good job Andrea for all your hard work! Check out her website here.

And yes. I expect you to review my book, Andrea. Once it's published. Or done...

GUESS WHAT???????????!?!?!?!???

I finished my book.

Yep. Actually, I finished it a couple of weeks ago. I forgot to tell you. I know, I know, how can an author forget that he finished a six-month long project of love and devotion (yeah, right)? I'll tell you how.

Start school.

You know how when you stop doing something you hate for a long time, you start to maybe think that that thing you stopped isn't actually so bad, and might actually be entertaining? And then you start it again, and...realize how much you detest it. That's what school does to me. I have what you might call a bad case of senior-itis--I'm ready to graduate. I like to refer to it as...I can't put up with stupid people. And where is a better place to find a large quantity of stupid people (of all ages, even) than a high school?

But I'm not here to dwell on that. I'll complain later, once I have a real (and finny) gripe. For now, just listen to the sound of my excitement. Well, okay. Watch it.

WHOOOO!!!!!!!!

Okay. I'm done. Now to start the editing......

Maybe I'll go read some of the Aeneid first.

Well, I'm Posting...

...too bad I just don't know what I'm posting about.

It's Tuesday. That means it's my writing & publishing post day. Well, let's see. I am writing. I am working on publishing.

What more can I tell you?

For those of you who don't know who I am, or haven't been paying attention, I am a writer. I write young adult novels. (See the WIP meter to your right--no, the other right.) And I am JUST ABOUT FINISHED!! with my current novel, Flash.

Next step, publishing! Well okay, next step editing. Then, next step, more editing. Then I'll send it out to more people so they can edit it and THEN I can submit it.

I've done that all before. But here's the difference. *Leaning close to whisper in your cyber-ear* FLASH is GOOD!

And I talked to a bunch of agents at LDStorymakers. I have personal e-mail addresses, excitement, and connections. So I'm ready for this showdown. (By the way, if you are a cyber-stalking literary agent, sorry it took so long...but it's a lot better than it would have been :) )

Let's do this.

Book Review: Life As We Knew It Trilogy

     Okay, so they're not really a trilogy. They are two companion novels and a sequel. But they are singlehandedly the best end-of-the-world books that I have ever read.

     Now for those of you who don't know the premise of these books--do you live under a rock? Just kidding. In the opening chapters, a meteor (or maybe an asteroid...) hits the moon, knocking it just a little bit closer to Earth. No big deal, right?
     Wrong.
      The tides take out the Eastern Seaboard, Hawaii, and Indonesia. Volcanoes erupting all over the world turn the skies gray with ash. Crops die. Electricity's down. And temperatures plummet as winter approaches.
     Miranda Evans is barricaded in her own sunroom, slowly starving to death with her family. Alex Morales is now the head of his family, and feels the heavy weight of responsiblity. Together, these two must learn to live and to love in the new, brave world, while still fighting to survive each passing day.
     These books sound utterly depressing, I'm sure. Well...they are. If--for some pointless reason--I have to put the book down and actually do something, I am always amazed to find electricity. Food. Susan Beth Pfeffer puts me in her world, even one as far away from our own reality as possible. The way she tells the story...it's utterly phenomenal.
      Crap. I just realized. It's Thursday, isn't it?
      Oh. Well, I'll post Autofill Thursday in the afternoon then. If you're that impatient, I'd recommend you stop at the library. These will keep you occupied.

AWARDS???

     Guess what? Gail Zuniga gave me an award! Hey. Stop laughing. I'm serious. The "Irrestibly Sweet Blog" award. Isn't this awesome? Well, for me.
     But this award comes with some...guidelines? If you're a regular reader (as regular as it gets--if you've read this blog at least twice before), then you get a treat. You get to read weird things about me. If you're a new reader, though, you get an even better treat. CHAOTIC GIBBERISH. Feel free to peruse. Read to your hearts content. But please, oh please, click the follow button. I don't care wether you follow the blogger way or the Facebook way, but pick one. Or both :)
     Here we go. 1. Seven Random Things About You:
     Uh, okay. 1) I am currently watching Percy Jackson: Lightning Thief and thinking of every possible way it's different from the book. Which is alot.
                     2) I play the piano, and have for seven--eight?--years now. I'm the church pianist, and competed at State.
                     3) I hate pistachios (don't kill me!) and hot dogs. Sorry, Uncle Sam.
                     4) I lifeguard at two pools in the ghetto, and have discovered that I have <0 tolerance for ghetto people (for those ghetto's reading this, that means less than zero.) That's a joke--I didn't mean that. Please don't hate me.
                     5) I live in a small town, and want more than anything to get out. I want to travel the world, and plan not to live in the United States again until I'm 40ish. And then, definitely not back here in Texas.
                     6) I'm kind of a nerd. I like learning stuff, and since my high school doesn't like teaching stuff, I self-study alot. This summer its statistics and chemistry.
                     7) My knees hurt. Bad. Or badly--sorry grammar nazis.

2. Do you think you're hot?
I don't think I'm particularly bad-looking, but I'm not good-looking either. I think confidence is 95% of how you appear though, and I'm confident. So I do good enough.

3. Upload a picture/wallpaper that you're using at the moment.

This is the wallpaper on my laptop right now. I made it on Photoshop a couple years back.

4. When was the last time you ate chicken meat?
*Looking down* Will you think I'm fat if I tell you I'm eating wings right now? Thanks Papa John's. I hate you.

5. The song(s) you listened to recently.
All right, I'm just scrolling backward through my iPod here.
Oh, it is Love--Hellogoodbye
A Party Song (The Walk of Shame)--All Time Low
Time--Hootie and the Blowfish
Twenty Years--Augustana
There, There Katie--Jack's Mannequin

6. What were you thinking as you were doing this?
Please don't judge, don't judge, oh, I hope they don't judge me--where's the pizza?

7. Do you have any nicknames? What are they?
Oh, nicknames. Let's see--Xander, Peanut, Snoopie, Dark Chocolate Pretzel, Hoagie Bear...the list is never-ending

8. Tag 8 More Bloggers:
Uh, well. I'll try to tag the non-LDStorymakers circle, because I know they've all done this before. I apologize if I retag anyone. (Don't judge)

• Scott Niven
• Aimee Jodoin
• Wist
• Heartless Ezi
• Jude
• The Golden Eagle
• Stephanie Black
• Maria Hoagland

Assuming you see this and know that you got this fantastic award, you're task is to post answers to the questions/statements above. Hopefully, this will generate a new set of followers/viewers for your blog. Happy reading, everyone.

Please. Don't judge.
And FOLLOW ME!

Bruiser

     I know. I know. I missed Autofill Thursday. I'm not doing one this week. Sorry. And even worse, I'm not doing one for awhile--I'm on VACATION!!! So, you'll just have to wait. I apologize deeply and sincerely.
     Right now, I am sitting in a hotel in Nashville, Tennessee, on my way to Washington, D.C. and eventually New York City. And I am coming to you with a book review.
     Now, before any road trip, I always stock up on books. This time, I have between ten and twelve, depending on if you count homework/non-fiction as books. The book I am about to review I did not even plan to bring--I have never read or even heard of it before.
     And yet...I read it in four hours. No joke--I could not put it down.
     You excited yet? The title of the book is...BRUISER (dang--the post title stole my thunder. Stupid blog post title) by Neal Shusterman. Here's the (awesome) cover:

     Wow. That's all I have to say about this book. It is one of the freaking best books that I have ever read.
     Let me show you the inside cover blurb, cause it puts it alot better than I can, while still not giving away any secrets.
        
TENNYSON: 
Don’t get me started on The Bruiser.  He was voted “Most Likely to Get the Death Penalty” by the entire school. He’s the kid no one knows, no one talks to, and everyone hears disturbing rumors about.  So why is my sister, Brontë dating him?  One of these days she’s going to take in the wrong stray dog, and it’s not going to end well.

BRONTË:
My brother has no right to talk about Brewster that way – no right to threaten him.  There’s a reason why Brewster can’t have friends – why he can’t care about too many people.  Because when he cares about you, things start to happen.  Impossible things that can’t be explained.  I know, because they’re happening to me.

BREWSTER:
Stealer of screams and thief of anguish,  I am a criminal, but you can’t see it, blinded by your own relief as my body becomes a battlefield in a war that can’t be won.  Will I be the bullet that ends your pain, or will you end mine?

     Do you want to read it now? Well, you should. It's right up my alley, a story set firmly in our own world with one very large twist to reality. It's basically a YA fantasy/dystopian story with a contemporary voice. Is there a specific genre for that? Because that's totally what Flash is.
     Out of a possible ten stars, I give this sixteen. Definitely right up there with Candor and The Hunger Games. I will definitely be reading this book again. And I highly--very highly--reccommend that you read it, too.
     Now, I'm off to figure out Google+. Anyone want to enlighten me?

Whatever Suits Your Fancy

     In accordance with the birth of Writing Wednesday and thanks to Jordan McCollum, I am happily posting one of my first 100% writing posts in a long time. Today's issue--is it okay to skip around when writing a novel? Or do you have to write it in order?
      From what I've heard, you have to write a novel in a straight line. No divergence, no change. You as the writer follow the story in sequential order, just like your readers are going to. That is what I have always been told.
     For my work, Flash, I have the first 30,000 words written like that, and they went fine. But then, I stalemated. Reached an impasse. Needed some inspiration. I knew exactly what I wanted to happen between that point and the end of the story, but just didn't know what the characters said to each other, or the little nuances (I really hope I spelled that right--sorry I'm too lazy to look it up) that fit in between the big plot arcs.
     However, I had a huge vision of what the end would look like. I could see the scene, hear the characters talking to each other, knew exactly what words they'd use. So I went ahead and wrote the ending. Now I have some 3,000 words detailing the last few chapters, while the beginning of the story waits for my love once again.
     What do you think about this? As a writer, I know--or at least hope--that you other writers wake up one day, filled with excitement (yes, that was a comma splice. Sorry.) about one particular scene or chapter. Do you go ahead and write that part? Or save it for later? What do you think about writing a story completely out of order, just writing whatever suits your fancy? We are, of course, assuming that after writing you read through the work just to make sure that it is consistent.
      Or, even better question. What do you think about writing a story backwards? *oohs from the audience*
     And that is my writing tidbit for the week. Thank you, Jordan McCullom!

Obligations

     So I've been sitting at my computer wondering what to do, and--hold on. Have you noticed that like 8/9 of my blog posts begin with so? Gotta fix that.
     Anyway, I was going to go find something to do, but I'm obligated to stay on Facebook and finish my chat with an unamed friend (sorry creepers). So--grr!--I've decided to post about obligations.
     For example, I'm obligated to post for you (and hopefully, you're obligated to read said posts). I'm obligated to communicate with my manager, who incessantly texts me the same thing four times until I respond. I'm obligated to do all sorts of things, and many of them I despise.
     And then I began to wonder--why do we have obligations?
     Yes, this is going to be an interesting, thought-provoking blog post, not a funny one.
     I googled obligations (or, am about to. Right now, I'm chatting afore-mentioned friend and typing this post) Obligation is defined as "The condition of being bound to do something." Wikipedia suggests that obligations are a biological fuel, that we cannot occupy the necessitated niche without them. But then how is it equally true that biological motivations spur us to act in our own self-interest?
     So I kept digging.
     There is an entire moral philosophy about this! For example, I stumbled across something called Unchosen Positive Obligations--a sort of moral code that binds you to do something without your choice or acceptance of said action. From there, I discovered a blog post entitled "Liberty as a Lack of Unchosen Positive Obligations." The post is complex, but once you understand it, the concept is simple: we as a human race achieve liberty and freedom by being positively obligated to other people.
     Now, at first this seems a little contradictory. How can we possibly ascertain to have freedom when we live our lives at a near-constant state of servitude to another being, object, or idea? However, once we think about it, the idea makes far more sense. Without positive obligation, chosen or unchosen, each of us would live in isolation, for fear of infringement by or on other people. Liberty would not exist simply because 1) slavery would not exist and 2) The fundamental things required for liberty (food, clothing, education, etc) would not be made available to us. Thus, to truly possess liberty in this world, each of us must contribute to the group. Obligations create freedom.
     And that is why we possess obligations.
     I just thought that was an interesting note to leave you with. I don't really have a label for this, but I'm going to put it in Writing and Publishing simply because a large portion of my manuscripts have to do with the notion of fate and free will. And--I suppose now--obligation.
     If you read this post, and like it, or are completely confused, comment on it. Let's discuss the many mysteries of the paradox of obligation.
     But until then, my friend has left the Facebook chat. I am no longer obligated to stay on this computer.
     I'm outta here!
     So that's that--and I did that on purpose :)

Down to Business

*Cracking knuckles* It's time to actually get some work done. Today's post is going to be brief (shocker) because I plan to actually do something today! Yes, I know, you're all duly amazed.

So tomorrow, I'm leaving for NFL Debate (no, for all your losers, that is not Football NFL--it's the National Forensics League). I do Public Forum debate, which is standard debate with a partner. I'm not taking my computer with me, because I plan to be rather busy having fun and whatnot. I'm sure I'll have tons of stories for you when I get back. Who knows, if I can figure out how to blog from my iPod, maybe you'll hear from me.

But that's not what I wanted to blog about. What I really wanted to talk to you about was what my partner and I will be fighting with people over--the resolution for NFL Public Forum. The topic in question is "America should intervene in another nation's struggle for democracy." What do you think about that?

This is one of those blog posts where if you read it (even if you don't follow me) I want you to respond. Being a debater, I had to plan for both sides of the argument, but I want to hear from you. What do you think about America's "knight in shining armor" campaigns? Let's have a good lively discussion in the comments bar below.

So seriously. If you read this blog post, comment. I don't care what you say, as long as it intelligently pertains to the question posed above. Meanwhile, my computer is yelling at me that it needs to restart. And, my book is yelling at me that it needs to be finished.

But please. Leave comments. I'll be watching you...