November = NaNoWriMo

November is Nation Novel Writing Month (also known as NaNoWriMo.) I've been participating for years now, ever since my older sister, Wendy, told me about it. The goal is to write a 50k word novel in 30 days. I have never managed to write more than 20k. However, I always have so much fun. Last year, NaNo was the only time where I actually sat down to write. I had a lot more time for these things in high school. I was working a lot less. I didn't really hang out with friends as much. I was taking classes that required me to write. These days I don't really do any creative writing.

There are a couple problems with this year's NaNo, though. First of all, I have a paper due five days into November. A fairly large paper. Second of all, the semester wraps up not that long after the end of the month. That means that I will have a lot of assignments due toward the end. I also have no idea what I'm going to be writing about. I've had a few more ideas, but nothing definite yet.

So I've adjusted my goal. Do I think I'll be able to write 50k words this month? Probably not. Do I think that I can start a project that will be 50k words by the end of December? Well, it's much more likely.

BSW? BA? MSW? Too Many Possibilities.

Five years ago, I began this blog because it was a requirement for my ninth grade Honors English class. I had tried to blog in the past, but nothing had ever come of it. After that year, though, blogging became a habit for me. It was a chore at first. I never could come up with anything to write about and often wrote about that until I rambled myself into a topic. As time has passed, though, I've found that this blog has been more of a tool to help me regroup and focus my thoughts. My topics tend to be very similar and I tend to only write once or twice a month. Still, I have accumulated five whole years worth of thoughts and growth onto this blog.

I turn here whenever I have something big on my mind. Sometimes I end up writing about that something and sometimes I don't. Usually I don't. Still, my purpose is to regroup. Focus. Writing helps me do that. As I was once taught, "writing is thinking."

So lately I've been stuck on quite the dilemma. What do I want to do with my life? I am a Sophomore at WSU and I have almost completed my generals. Soon I will need to start working on my degree. But what is it that will truly make me happy? There are two major options weighing on my mind. I think I would enjoy both of them with relative success, I believe. Which would I be happier with, though? That is the true question.

Since about the same time that I started writing this blog, I became convinced that teaching English was something that I might want to do with my life. I love grammar and writing. An afternoon spent reading with a warm blanket on the sofa is my favorite way to relax. Would I be a decent teacher, though? Would I be happy trying to teach a subject as difficult as English to students who probably don't care to learn it? Or would I be better off working with a different set of interests? Say psychology?

When I was a junior at Layton High School, I passed my AP Psychology exam with a 5, the best scored I received in three years. I've always been a person intensely interested in people and their relationships with each other. I am an avid people-watcher. All of that combined with the fact that I just learned that it is not necessary to have a PhD in order to go into therapy creates a whole new level of questions for me. Would I like being a therapist? Are there jobs out there for it? Would I prefer it to teaching?

Really, I have a lot of things to consider here. I keep going back and forth between the two and their pros and cons. I still have absolutely no idea what I want to move forward with. Hopefully I'll be able to figure it out soon, though.

Nostalgia

Lifted by wings

light as air

down a worn path

hidden in

a shroud of trees.

Patches of bright

yellow sunlight appear

in the darkness,

filling the air

with a warmth as

old as time.

The touch of it

a mere whisper

against callused

skin.

Wings carry too far

and too close

in one instant.

Uncomfortable

and

comforted.

Together

and

apart.

Sort of a Train Piece

Remember last year when I was writing a bunch of short stories about people on trains? Well, I found myself writing another one of them the other day. After about a week and five different beginnings, I've come up with something that is really unlike the pieces I wrote last year. I think the length of this could end up being more like the stories that I was writing in junior high. It is kind of inspired by thoughts and decisions that I am making in my life right now. It's not incredibly original and is probably full of cliched ideas. I'm loving it, though. It's been a while since I've truly been this into writing something.


Anyway, here's what I have of it so far. Let me know what you think.


There were a lot of things that Melanie Parker would change about her life if given the chance. Like every other person on the planet, she had made choices she was not proud of. It wasn't often, but she sometimes gave in and let herself be consumed by the 'what ifs' that plagued her mind. That wasn't unusual, though. Melanie was positive that everyone wondered at times what their life would be like had they chosen to take a different path.

Melanie was also certain that everyone had a moment that changed everything. Most people didn't acknowledge it, but the moment was there all the same. It was the fork in the road. Sometimes the choices were clear and a conscious decision was made. Other times, like with Melanie, the other option was hidden, a dirt path covered with bushes and hard to find if you were not looking for it.

The soft whir of the speeding train had lulled her into these thoughts. She stared out the window at the passing scenery, one hand holding the book in her lap open while she lost herself in the warm colors of the falling leaves outside her window.

It would be nice to get home for a little while, Melanie thought. She needed to get away from the serious world she had created for herself and get back to the familiar silliness that her family and her hometown.

"Do you mind if I sit here?" A tall man with dark brown hair and sharp blue eyes pointed to the seat across from her.

Startled from her thoughts, Melanie shook her head. "Of course not." She hadn't even realized that the train was stopped, she had been so focused on the musings of her overactive mind.

The man sat down, setting his black leather shoulder bag on the seat next to him and taking off his hat. Melanie tried not to stare, but the man's piercing eyes and mysterious demeanor drew her in. He caught her gaze after settling himself and she quickly turned away.

The train was moving again as Melanie turned back to the window, too distracted to continue her thoughts. She fought the urge to look back at the man sitting across from her. She wished she could start a conversation with him without seeming too nosy or strange.

"Headed into the country?" The man asked, not seeming to have the same social inhibitions as Melanie.

It's pretty rough right now. This is just the general idea that I have written out at the moment. I have a lot more plot to this than my train pieces usually have. I almost feel like this could tie them all together, though. It would be great to get some opinions or ideas if anyone cares to share. :)

Public-Personal Diaries

So this is the last paper that I have to turn in for my English 2010 class. It's a research/analysis paper about why people blog... Somehow, it's turned out to have a slightly negative tone toward it. I obviously do not dislike blogging... I've kept this blog for five years now. I like blogging. Anyway, here it is. Read it or not. Feel free to let me know what you think if you read it, though.

Public-Personal Diaries

      People have kept personal journals in some form since the beginning of time. Some of the journals have even become an important part of history. Anne Frank’s journal that she kept during World War II while she was in hiding with her family is one of them. Still, most journals were not created with the intention of having the whole world read them. In the last fifteen years, however, the expanding popularity of blogging has placed the personal diary on display for the whole world to see.

     Su-Houn Liu, Hsiu-Li Liao and Yuan-Zeng, researchers at Chung Yuan Christian University, define blogging as “a Web site where journal entries are shown in reverse chronological order and usually provide access to their archives and a way to post comments” (Liu 232). Blogs are written with a large variety of purposes. Some blogs are a form of news while others act as a forum for communication. Even more blogs fit the description that Brian Williams made, “Diaries once sealed under lock and key are now called blogs and posted daily for all those who care to make the emotional investment” (Williams 449).

     Beginning in the late 1990s, the most common type of blog was used to express the American idea that “if it has to do with you, or your life, it’s important enough to tell someone” (Williams 449). As a society, we value ourselves and think that other people should also value the things that happen to us and what we have to say about these events. As a result of this narcissistic behavior, many blogs are created to share the content of a person’s life with whatever part of the world is willing to listen. The internet is such a large place that there is bound to be someone interested and if not then they will have a public place to say whatever they want without the real world consequences of it. Blog writers, or bloggers, can take their lives online and may receive comments or not depending on whether readers have anything to say. This may be why many even continue to write for long periods of time with no evidence of having any audience whatsoever. The act of blogging is like talking to yourself in a crowded room and hoping someone will overhear and find it interesting enough to respond.

     Heather Armstrong began her popular blog in February of 2001 without any expectation of having a large readership. “I launched dooce.com as a place to write about pop culture, music, and my life as a single woman. I never expected more than a couple of dozen people to read it” (Armstrong). Her topics ranged from things like Carnation milk to the men that she had dated. She was also living in Los Angeles and had a full time job. At the time, her blog was merely a hobby.
     Armstrong is one of many bloggers who began with the intention of just writing as something to do. Her blog was a place for her to write down what was going on in her life. Even though she was not expecting many people to read it, she was likely hoping to generate some sort of feedback. However, after blogging about some of the less pleasant aspects of her job, Armstrong was fired when someone anonymously emailed the Vice Presidents of the company. Later that same day she wrote a blog asking this question “At what point does my personal website, regardless of what I’ve published on the site affect my professional life?” (Armstrong)
     Now, ten years later, Armstrong and her family rely on her blog as their primary source of income. She has added marriage, children, and life as a professional blogger to her ever growing list of topics and has a much larger readership than before. Over the years, she has adapted her blog to the changing situations in her life.

     The NieNie Dialogues is another blog that was created with the intention of being a hobby for its writer, Stephanie Nielson. Her blog began ten years ago as a place for her to write about her life with her husband and daughter in Arizona. There was no greater purpose to her blog than having somewhere to show off pictures that she took and share moments of her life with whomever would read it.

     When Nielson and her husband were in a plane crash in August 2008, she was forced to stop writing. Over 80% of her skin was burned, and she was in a coma for three months. During the time that she was in the hospital, Nielson’s sister C-Jane (another well-known blogger) took over the blog. C-Jane updated readers on Nielson’s health and reposted older posts of Nielson’s that were indicated as favorites by her readers.

     In January of 2009 readers were shocked when Nielson came back saying “It’s true. I am alive.  I look different. I walk slow...and type slower.  But it’s good to be back!” (Nielson) Now Nielson is a well-known inspirational blogger, often writing things like “I guess that is why we live each day with faith so when and if something happens to us, we are prepared… It’s not easy, it’s actually a huge challenge… but it is possible and a much easier and happier way to live” (Nielson). Despite the fact that her blogs are filled with punctuation and grammatical errors, her fans continue to read her blog. They continue to read because they are interested in what she has to say.

     When bloggers continue to write over a long time period, it often becomes necessary for them to adapt to changes within their lives and their readership. The tone behind Nielson’s blogging changed significantly after her accident, becoming more inspirational and grateful for every single experience she has in her life. However, she also discusses the difficulties that arise from living with such a tragic injury.
     Armstrong adapted her blog when it became her job. She posts more blogs a day now than she did when she originally began writing. The posts are still short and easy to follow. They are still humorous much of the time and give her readers a sense of who she is. However, they are no longer purely a hobby. Armstrong posts to her blog because it is what keeps her and her family financially sound.
     It was when Armstrong began making an income from her blog and her audience increased that her purpose in blogging changed. In fact, Nardi et. al found in their research that “blogs create the audience, but the audience also creates the blog. This linkage happen[s] in a number of ways: friends urging friends to blog, readers letting bloggers know they were waiting for posts, bloggers crafting posts with their audience in mind, and bloggers continuing discussions with readers in other media outside of the blog” (Nardi 224 ). Not only did Armstrong have to adapt to the changes in her life, but she had to adapt to the popularity of her blog.  The audience that follows her blog no longer have to wait a week or more for her to post something new as they would have in the past. Armstrong is able to write or post pictures multiple times a day because it is her full time job. If she were to stop posting as, her readership would probably drop as they looked for blogs that suited their immediate interest.
     While Nielson and Armtrong’s blogs both have fairly large readerships, there are even more blogs that do not. In fact, according to Liu, Liao and Zeng, there were over 73 million blogs on the internet in 2006, a number that was growing at a rate of 175,000 blogs daily. Most of these blogs are written by people who have not had any extraordinary life event happen to generate readers. So why do these people continue to blog? According to Liu’s research “bloggers ranked pouring out feelings and connecting with people respectively, as their two most valued rewards” (Liu 234). Simply having a space to put their thoughts, emotions and daily experiences outweighs having someone comment on what they are saying.
     This idea that a person’s blog is their space in which they can keep any and every thought they want written down may be why more and more people blog every day. Blogs do not truly belong to the people who are writing them, though. In fact, as David Teten says, “most hosting companies, including blog hosting companies, also have terms of service that are more restrictive than free speech limits” (Teten 474). Bloggers can often find themselves in trouble, whether from the hosting websites or from their readers, when they write based on the idea that they can say whatever they want. What they probably do not consider is what would happen if their online secrets were to be discovered.
     As Armstrong demonstrated when she wrote about the company she was working for, bloggers can write about whatever they please but within limits and with possible consequences. Teten points out that “most hosting companies, including blog hosting companies, also have terms of service that are more restrictive than free speech limits, typically restricting hate speech and pornography” (Teten 474). The general idea here is that as long as bloggers are directly slandering anyone or graphically offending them, they are free to discuss whatever they want. This does not eliminate the real world consequences of their words, though.
     There is no guarantee that what is written on a blog will remain on a blog. Bloggers take a risk when they choose to post their personal lives to the internet. Just as bloggers often adapt their writing to the events that are occurring in their lives, sometimes they are forced to adjust their lives to the consequences of the things they have written when an unwanted audience reads them.
     No matter how anonymous blogs may seem, they really are public archives subject to a complicated web of bloggers and readers. “People typically [find] blogs through other blogs they [are] reading, through friends or colleagues telling them about their blogs or those of others or through inclusion of the blog URL in an instant message profile or a homepage” (Nardi 224). The results of this constant sharing are large blogging communities of bloggers and readers who have similar interests. If a blogger is followed by someone they know offline, then it would not be difficult for others in their lives to hear of the blog and to see what is written on it. The consequences of someone offline discovering online secrets are not often at the forefront of a blogger’s mind when they are writing. They are simply putting their lives out there for others to see, whether they meant to or not.
     In a society as individualistic as ours, it is no surprise that people want everyone around them to care about what is going on in their lives. Blogs provide people with a place to write or post anything that they want in a way that anyone in the world who is interested can see it. While blogging often begins as a hobby, many long-time bloggers find that their blogs adapt into something more specific, like the inspirational words offered by Stephanie Nielson or the humorous commentary that is found on dooce.com. Still others continue to blog for the simple value of having somewhere to put their emotions and to write about their lives. These public, personal diaries are often created with a single purpose but usually end up being something quite different for each person who writes one. Bloggers are forced to adapt to change just as all other people in the world are forced to adapt to their environment and the other people around them.

Just a Little Something

     Melanie was tired of running. She had been running since the day she turned 12 and she was sick of it. There had to be something out in the world worth staying for. If it had ever been up to her, she would have stayed. But her mom was always moving them. Every couple of months they would pack up and move again. New house. New school. New town. Six years of moving and all Melanie wanted was for something in her life to stay still.


This little bit of writing has been stuck in the back of my head for a week now. I don't know what it is yet. Maybe it's part of what would have been my NaNoWriMo novel had I had time to participate this year. It started off as a train piece in my mind. Maybe that's what it will continue to be. I'm not sure. Either way, I wanted to put it out there just to see if anyone thought anything of it.

Beauty in the Stars

So, I'm cleaning my room and packing right now. I shouldn't be online, as I have to leave in less than 3 hours, but I found this poem that I wrote while I should have been taking notes in Astronomy during the first week. So here it is:

Turn your eyes

to the stars

and admire 

their beauty.

Why does such

stark contrast

draw my attention

so?

Long have my dreams

been lifted to

the night sky,

the celestial bodies

that hover there.

One day I will

reach the stars

and find there

my destiny.

Lost will be

the science

of my world, 

all that will 

remain is the

surreal beauty

of the

universe.

One day I will

find myself

in the

night sky.

It's not a masterpiece or anything. It definitely needs work. But since I haven't really written a whole lot of creative stuff lately (though I did write a new train piece last week!) I thought I would share this for anyone who might be interested.

Oh! I'm bringing my copy of Writing Down the Bones on the flight to New Orleans. Expect some kind of writing either when I land or once I am back on Sunday.

Where has the summer gone?

Here's the thing, it's been a month since I've written in this blog. Remember how I said that this summer was going to be my summer of writing? Well, instead it has turned into my summer of reading and working and trying to find something in my life that I could write about. I keep trying to turn back to the novel that I have been trying to write since eighth grade, but that whole idea is so old to me. I've explored the story in my head and I know what should happen. Do you know how hard it is to write a story that you already know? I want to discover a new story somewhere. I want to daydream about the world's next biggest sensation while riding a train and then spend years developing it before fighting to send it out into the world. I don't even care if it ever becomes a well-read book. I just want characters to write. It has been a while since I've been truly invested in a character. I miss the feeling.

And...

When I think about it, my life isn't really lacking inspiration for characters. All around me are people who inspire me. I just... Don't have a story. Where do I start? That is something I would like to ask every author. What scene did they first write? I very much doubt that J.K. Rowling began writing her epic tale in the cupboard under the stairs. In fact, I'd like to imagine that it was the scene on the train where Ron, Hermione and Harry first meet, or even the scene in the Forbidden Forrest when Harry encounters Voldemort drinking the unicorn blood.

Or...

Did she start from the end? It is common knowledge that the last chapter of the seventh book was actually written before she completed writing the first one. How could she have possibly known how big her fictional world would become when she first wrote that final chapter, though? I think I'd love to see the original draft of it. I think it would be a really good testament to the writing process to see how much it all changed between the publication of the Deathly Hallows and the conception of the Sorcerer's Stone.

Wow...

I'm just going to pretend that the Harry Potter nerdiness that pretty much is my life has not seeped into this blog, alright? We're just going to ignore all those words that completely fit my point were not really what I wanted to talk about.

A Crew Lead and a Supervisor from my work were fired today. Both are guys that I have worked with for a while and have come to know at least semi-decently. I saw them both in the kitchen before I knew they were fired and even had an interaction with one that confused me at the time. I doubt I will see either of them ever again. I had no idea at the time, though. These things happen to me all of the time. People come in and out of everyones' lives. It is just how the world works. Still, when things like this happen... I just feel the urge to write them somehow. It's not that I have any kind of story to tell about the two people that were fired today, but rather that I feel like their personalities are such that I want to write them into something... How can I, though, when I have nothing to write in the first place?

Anyway, pointless contemplation aside, I have the day off tomorrow. It is the last day off that I am going to have for two weeks. Partay. So I really do think that I should find some way to write a story with all of these characters floating around in my head. After all, there are four completely empty composition notebooks next to my bed that I bought months ago in preparation for this summer. There are only four weeks left. Does anyone have a muse that I could borrow?

Inspired

Writing Down the Bones is so much more than I expected it to be, even when I read the first couple of chapters during school. I've been ready at least a couple pages everyday and I've taken to highlighting everything that I find interesting or inspires me. There hasn't been a single page that I haven't highlighted anything and I've had so much going through my mind because of it. The book may be about writing, but I think anyone could gain something from reading it. Regardless of whether or not you're a writer, it's still interesting and valuable to have a mind that is so active. I have so many thoughts about so many things running through my mind and because I am a writer, I think that I could sit down and write about it all for days.

I may sit down and write about it all for at least a few hours. I don't think I'd ever want anyone to read it, but that's not the point, is it? Natalie Goldberg talks a lot about "first thoughts" and writes a chapter on obsessions and that seems to be the mode that this book has put my mind in right now. Every new thought or memory that comes to mind is surprising and I just need a way to express them all without losing a single one. It sounds like I'm writing in the wrong place right now, doesn't it? If I'm having all of these "first thoughts" that really should be written down, why I am writing about them instead?

I think I'm going to go write in my notebook for a little while. I'll let you know if anything good comes out of it, but I don't really mind if nothing does.

The Other Side Revisited

      So I managed to finish another revision today. This one is really different from the original. I'm not sure what I think of it yet, and I'm sure this one will have even more revisions this summer. It mixes my original intention for the piece with my new concept for it in a way that still seems slightly awkward to me. I more than doubled it in length, and I'm not even sure if you can really consider them the same piece. Still, here it is.

      "Why can't I move? Why can't I force myself from this spot? I mean, I'm standing here staring at a train!" She exclaimed into her phone. Why did she do this to herself, she wondered as she wrapped her free arm around her stomach. "It's not even the same train station he left from, and yet, I can't leave. I feel like maybe if I stand here long enough, he'll come back. Is that crazy?"
      "I don't think you have quite reached crazy yet." Her sister's voice reassured her over the phone. "Obsessive, definitely... A little unreasonable, but you have not been trying to track him down like you originally said you were going to, so I think you may still be sane."
      "I just wish he could have forgiven me, you know? I mean, we both made mistakes. I didn't jump on a train just to get away from them, though. I dealt with my problems." The anger that she had worked so hard to force down was now beginning to creep back up her throat. "He didn't even let anyone know where he was going! I know we weren't speaking, but don't you think I deserved something from him at least?" She felt like she was begging for some kind of reassurance that she had been wronged.
      "Honestly?" Her sister's voice was hesitant. "I don't think you did. You hurt him just as much as he hurt you, sis. I think peace was really all either of you could expect from each other and he tried to give that to you."
      In the station, the young woman took a deep breath, unable to deny the truth to her sister's words. "I know," she admitted quietly.
      "Listen, I have to go. Mom's waiting for me. Try not to focus on it, alright? You will be fine once you stop dwelling on all the bad blood. Try to think of it as a fresh start. You still deserve happiness. Even he wouldn't deny you that."
      "Yeah. I'll try. Thanks for listening." She considered her sister's words, turning them around and around in her mind.
      "No problem. That's what sisters are for. Love you."
      "Love you, too. Tell mom I said hi." When her sister disconnected she flipped her phone shut, pulling both arms tight around herself, trying to hold it all together. Her eyes squeezed shut as she tried to forget the distance separating her from everyone that had ever mattered to her.
      She regretted the silence that had been her final moments with him. They had left their known world for this one, together, looking for a new start, but she had been so cold in the end. She should have tried to talk to him. Instead of months of silence, there could have been words. They could have fixed it, she knew that now, too late.
      What he had seen was that she showed no sorrow for the events that tore them apart. She had been so desperate to keep herself safe and together that she had become a stone. Maybe if she had let him in, he would have been able to forgive her and she would not be left watching trains come and go from an empty station.
      She had left everyone else behind for a chance with him and she had messed it all up without looking at the damage she had caused. Opening her eyes, she took one more deep breath. She turned to leave the station, realizing what she should have known all along.
      Without him, she had nothing but a fresh start because without him by her side... She was completely alone to pick up the pieces.

The Platform Revisited

So, this is the beginning of one of my multiple summer writing projects. First, I'm going to revise the six train pieces that I have from school and rewrite the one that I could not find. Then I'm going to write new ones. Hopefully at least one a day, taking time to revise older ones as I go. Today I sat down and punched this out while looking at a copy of the original piece. I think the contrast between the two really shows you how I improved in my writing this year. I'm going to go work on revising the others now, as well. I'll probably put them up by tomorrow night.


     "The world moved on."*
     These quiet words snuck their way to the forefront of his mind from a book he remembered reading long ago. Back then, he was enchanted by the profound sound of such a simple phrase, but he had never really considered them any further than that.
      Now, as he stood at the edge of the platform waiting for his train, somewhere between his old life and his new beginning, he forced himself to examine the words he had once so ignorantly admired. His world had certainly moved on. Long gone were the day of naiive camaraderie and laughter. Somewhere between all of the words he had said and all those he had never had the courage to express, his world and the sepereate worlds of all those around him had moved on.
      Standing there, he supposed it must be time for him to move on as well. He could not just continue to live in this limbo between his past and his future, watching but not living as the world passed him by in a blur of activity.
      Forgive and forget, he thought as he watched all the other people in the station coming and going, never standing still. his past would always be a part of him, but maybe just this once he could move on without bringing all of his bitterness with him.
      The low rumble of an approaching train reached his ears and brought his attention to the dark tunnel as it began to slowly fill with blinding white light. He had no choice now, he thought as the train came to a complete stop in front of him and the doors slid open slowly. There was no way for him to deny that he really had to move on now.
      He took a deep breath as he settled in his seat and looked out the window on the platform. He felt the gears begin to grind together beneath him as the train began to move.
      Back on the platform, no one noticed the luggage that he had left behind. 










* Phrase comes from Stephen King's The Gunslinger.

Lost Pieces and Inspiration

        I woke up this morning with a plan. Today I am going to compile all of my "train pieces" so that they are in one place (the beautiful notebook that my cousin, Andi gave me for graduation.) From there I was going to rewrite them, add some stronger imagery and better character to the earlier pieces, and possibly write a few more.
      I've written six pieces that I was able to locate this morning. I'm pretty sure they are all on my blog, but if they aren't they will be soon (I plan to start posting all of the writing I did this year that is not up yet.) However, there is a seventh piece that I know that I wrote and that I really liked that I cannot find anywhere. It makes me sad, but I think at this point I will just rewrite it. I still like the concept of the piece and I can probably make it stronger if I write it now as opposed to two o'clock in the morning when I originally wrote it.
      Anyway, I was just on the computer looking through files to find the pieces and I thought I would come explain to everyone who reads this what I am up to today... I don't know why.

     Oh! Now I'm going to rant about the books that I've been given lately that I'm going to be using for inspiration in my writing this summer. :)
      The first is Writing Down the Bones by Natalie Goldberg. This book is one that my Creative Writing/AP Literature teacher gave me before school ended. I had borrowed a copy from her but had not been able to finish it before giving it back to her. I love it so far. Natalie Goldberg really has some great things to say about writing. She talks about how important it is to just write and not question your writing (like I just did with the end of this sentence, rewritten about ten times.) I think I am really going to learn a lot and my writing is definitely going to improve from reading this book.
      The next two books are ones that my dad bought me while we were at The Gateway after graduation last week. Unlike the Writing Down the Bones, these two books were picked more to give me inspiration for my writing. I picked them out of the many books on the shelf in Barnes & Noble because I think that they are likely to really help give me something to write about.
     Semantic Antics by Sol Steinmetz is basically a dictionary of how words have changed over time. I'm still reading the introduction, but so far I'm really liking this book. It talks about the different ways that words can change as well. Apparently the different types of changes all of specific names. Honestly, I think it would be really interesting to study, which was not what I expected when I picked this book off the shelf and asked my dad if he would buy it for me. Really, I was just thinking that I would be able to open it, pick a word at random and find a way to write about it. I still plan to do that, even though I will probably get more from it as well.
      The Pocket Muse 2 by Monica Wood was actually recommended to me by my older sister, Wendy, who was with me at the time. I haven't really had time to just look through it yet, but it seems to be a collection of pictures, prompts and tips to inspire writing. I've seen the first book and I've probably flipped through it at B&N before, but I had never really thought about seriously buying it. However, if I like using the second one, I may just have to go find the first one sometime soon.
     I'm really excited about these books. Plus, I think I may be heading to B&N today to look for more. I think it would be a good way to spend my day off, don't you? I could look around at the books for a while and then just sit and write for a while. The idea is sounding more and more appealing to me by the second. After all, what better place for inspiration than a book store?

Since Blogger is being ridiculous and would not let me post this (still isn't, actually,) I'd like to update with the fact that I did spend a significant part of my day at B&N. In fact, I freaked out when I accidentally left my wallet in my car and then ended up spending almost $50. I probably should have left the wallet in the car. However, I'm excited to read Water for Elephants and I'm glad that I finally own my own copy of the miserable thoughts book as well as a couple of others.


Hopefully blogger will let me put this up soon.

The Other Side of the story

Why can't I move? Why can't I force myself from this spot? What is the point of standing here, staring at this train? It's not even the same train that he left on, and yet, I can't leave. I feel like maybe if I stand here long enough he will come back.

We all made our mistakes, but, though I know mine were the worst, shouldn't he be able to forgive me as well? I forgave him I forgot about all the lies, all the hurtful things he said. Why have I not been forgiven? He left me here all by myself without a single clue to where he was going.

A train. Tht's all I knew. He had taken his things and boarded a train. We weren't speaking to each other, I know, but he left. I never expected him to leave. I guess I should have tried to talk to him. Instead of months of silence there could have been words. I know that now. We could have fixed this. He didn't have to leave.

I have been a stone for so long. Maybe that is why he left. I had no remorse. I showed no sorrow for the events that tore us apart. I was cold and distant toward everyone. That didn't do any good. He left on a train and now I am here watching other trains go by. Trying to hold myself together. Trying to prevent the breakdown I know is just under the surface.

I didn't realize before, but without him I am completely alone.

The Platform

     "The world moved on."*
     The words came from a book he remembered reading long ago. Back then, he had thought it sounded cool but put no further thought to it than that.
     Now the words came to him from some dark and unused corner of his mind as he stood on the edge of the platform. His world had certainly moved on. Gone were the days of camaraderie and laughter. Somewhere between all of the words he had said and those he had always wanted, but never could actually say his world, and the separate worlds of all those around him, had moved on.
     He supposed that it must be time to move on as well. Forgive and forget was the phrase that came to his mind. Looking back, he knew that his past would always be a part of him, but maybe, just this once, he could move on without bringing the bitterness with him.
     Sounds of the approaching train reached his ears as he took a deep breath. It really was time to move on, he though, no denying it now.
     When the train came to a stop the man moved toward it, ready to board. He sat watching the platform as the train began to move. He never realized that he had left his luggage behind.


*Credit for this phrase actually goes to The Gunslinger by Stephen King.