How About That Weather?

Hey guys!

I meant to post this yesterday because it would have made a lot more sense then but I sorta forgot and then I didn’t do it. Yay being forgetful?

Either way I’m posting this for two reasons. The first is because it literally snowed like crazy yesterday here in Boulder, CO. It has been sunny and in the 60s to 70s pretty much all April (which is neither unusual nor unwelcome) and then yesterday it dropped enough to snow all day. Basically I woke up to a few inches on the ground already and then it just kept snowing all day.

Again, this is neither unusual nor entirely unwelcome here. Or at least most of us don’t mind but then again that’s usually because it brings more moisture. But some people keep being upset and I just have to smile and shake my head. Anyone who has grown up here knows that snowstorms as late as even May are not unusual. Either way it was really fun and of course its already super sunny and warm again today so the snow has basically all melted away.

The second is mostly to talk about small talk and how I am terrible at both doing it and writing it. I really dislike small talk as I feel like it is insanely awkward and serves no purpose other then to sort of show that you have some vague knowledge of who you are talking about and some vague interest in them but not enough to actually talk about anything important. It just doesn’t really seem to serve a purpose if you ask me.

Furthermore I hate writing it in stories. I realize that its a part of life and not every interaction between characters is going to be important and drive the plot forward but it just seems like a pointless waist to have them commenting on the weather and vaguely asking how the other is without really wanting to know the full answer.

Maybe that just means that I need to write it more so I start to feel like its at least important in showing the context of a relationship. Though now that I think about it I don’t really think many stories have a lot of small talk going on in them. Maybe that’s because other authors think the same as me or maybe its just because it doesn’t move the plot along and no one wants to bog down their entire story with useless chatter.

Now I’m sort of tempted to use small talk to show just how awkward and terrible a situation is. But that might just be the sadistic writer in me wanting to put myself through something that I’m not going to enjoy and that I don’t even know if anyone else would want to read. Well that’s for a someday further into the future when I’m not still trying to figure out some of the here and now.

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The Start

I don’t know why but starting a story is either the easiest bit of or the hardest. In fact I have a lot of stories that have no real concrete starting point because I just don’t really know how to start them. I think part of the problem for me is that I usually base my desire to read a book off the first sentence or two (or sometimes more) and I feel like that’s a fairly common thing. That first sentence needs to have something to it for you to want to keep reading. That something could be a lot of things of course. It could be that it sparks some mystery or that its really gripping or even that its really funny. Whatever it is that first impression is pretty important!

I guess I just keep thinking that my starts are never quite good enough to be that attention grabber that I want. Maybe its just because I wrote them and I know where its going or maybe it really is an issue. I suppose its something I need to work on and something that I will continue to develop. I might do a little mini series here and post one to three sentence story starts and see what people think.

I might as well start now since I do have one story start that I love but that I have never managed to write the story for. So here it is guys, the one story start that I’m sorta proud of:

“It is said that long ago the Fay and other such creatures retreated from this world. But the problem with long ago’s is that no human is alive who remembers them.”

Let me know what you all think!

Emotional Roller Coaster

I was going to start this with something smart like “okay, lets have some real talk now” but I realize that’s really not me and also doesn’t actually sound all that smart. If anything it sorta sounds ridiculous and like I’m about to spout out a lot of self righteous nonsense that doesn’t actually apply to anything. It just doesn’t feel real to me and I want it to. Its important to me to be real with myself and thus be real with you here.

I am, in all honestly, a ball of anxiety and fear over this whole thing. Writing has been a passion of mine since I was little (mostly through reading but I also loved making up stories and the like) but I’ve also been told since I was a kid that I’d never been good at it. I was constantly told that I should pursue something else because my dyslexia would prevent me from making it as a writer in a world were people without dyslexia barely make it as authors. Those words have become so ingrained in my brain that they’ve become a part of me and that part puts up walls and shoves away the possibility that I could be good at this. It whispers to me that I am making a huge mistake and I’ll never make it as an author because I can’t possibly write anything that people might think or view as worth reading.

Its this fear and anxiety that make it so hard for me to keep myself to a rigorous posting order of posting every day with something. I just say it can’t possibly make a difference because no one is reading this anyway. That anxiety makes me shy away from trying and pushing myself. It makes me lazy and makes me just say “whatever, I’ll do it tomorrow” over and over again. Its a vicious cycle that leads down a path of me not doing anything and never changing my life. And then that scares me more because I don’t want to still be scared in the future. I want to live a life where I take chances and put myself out there but its a road that is crooked and full of potholes.

But its not all bad of course. There are times when I’m truly excited by the prospects of the future and I tell myself that I can do it! But those times are few and far between at the moment. I’m hoping they’ll be a little more common moving forward from here now that I’ve put this all out here. I suppose my only choice is to buckle up, hold on, and hope that the ride is worth it in the end… and, hey, I’ve always really liked roller coasters!

Hell’s Gate

(So this is a story I started based off a dream I had one time. Its just a snippet of the start of it and something that I haven’t worked on in quite a while. However, I think I might return to it because I liked the idea behind it. Anyway, feel free to give me your thoughts!)

Hands reaching out of inky blackness the consistency of quicksand kept grabbing at exposed and covered flesh alike. Their touch was bone achingly cold and left fiery prints lined in splotches of the darkness they came from. It was a terrifying nightmare, one that never seemed to end, a torture of the worst kind and that for anyone for whom this was just a dream. But for one poor soul it wasn’t a dream and it never ended, it was his reality and he lived with it every day. That alone was enough to bring goosebumps to his skin every time he thought about it, which was very frequently and as a result people tended to ask him if he was cold all the time.

Brown eyes, eyes that most called dull or dog eyes, blinked open slowly to take in a room that was messier than if a tornado had hit it in the weak light filtering through cloth curtains. It was a small room, really closer to the size of a walk-in closet then an actual bedroom but he didn’t mind. He liked small spaces, for some reason they were a comfort to him. A hand with a certain sort of skeletal quality lifted up, fingers curling into a loose fist, to rub the sleep away from first one eye and then the next. What they could not rub away were the dark circles under his eyes from an extended lack of proper sleep. He could not even remember the last time he slept well, perhaps he never had but certainly he had not since one of the gates of hell had been sealed inside his body.

Yeah, that’s right, this was a man who had a gate that lead directly to hell sealed inside his body. But that is not really this tale as it has already happened, suffice it to say that this poor man is a walking, talking, breathing gate to hell and his job is to keep that gate closed and reap the souls that have died.

The man slowly pushed himself up on arms that looked like a good twist would snap them, he wasn’t healthy and it showed. But what did one expect from a man who had to deal with what he did? And had for so many years now that he didn’t even like to think how many more he would have to deal with it. But he got up anyway and didn’t just lay about in bed, despite the early hour of five in the morning. He felt the thin sheet slip away from his exposed torso and pool around his lap. It had been cool last night when he’d gone to bed but now it was soaked in sweat, a normal occurrence for him. It would mean more laundry to do in the evening but at least that would give him something to do that wasn’t sitting around thinking about his own damned existence.

Long arms stretched over his head and he moved his body up as he worked out small kinks in his muscles that had developed over time. With a sickening cracking sound his sternum popped much as one can pop their spine if they twist far enough. He groaned and put a hand to his chest, holding it just under his collarbones for a moment. It was a sensation that plagued him every day and that he would really happily live without. He shivered and sighed, that same hand moving up to run through dirty blond hair that was lank with sweat and fell about his head to his chin in length. It looked messy, but he didn’t really care about that. He was never much concerned about his looks or perhaps he would have taken better care of himself.

Legs longer than the arms that had stretched a moment ago swung out from under the sheet and rested on the floor. Their toes curled as they came in contact with the extremely old shag carpeting, burying themselves into the carpet for a moment. Then they relaxed and the man pushed his body up, uncurling himself to a full height of six feet three inches tall. But he seemed both taller and shorter at the same time. His extremely thin figure gave the impression that he was taller but the hunching of his bony shoulders gave the impression of being shorter.

A few shuffled footsteps took him to the only other furniture in the room besides the bed, an old beaten to hell set of drawers that he used to store his clothing. Hands curled on rough handles and pulled on them, drawing the drawer out with a few clunking sounds. They picked up a pair of boxers that had been haphazardly stuffed in there at some point. Then the drawer was shoved shut in favor of two different ones being opened in order to provide him with a pair of jeans and a t-shirt in a maroon coloration. With that he left the small room and entered a longer hall, pausing as his feet connected with cold wooden flooring.

No one else was up yet but he didn’t mind that, he rather liked the fact that he got the house and the bathroom to himself at this early hour. He crossed the floor and opened a door, flicking on a light inside before stepping over the threshold. He blinked in the illumination, taking in a small bathroom that consisted of only a shower in the corner, a toilet next to it and a sink in the opposite corner from the shower with enough room for one’s legs between it and the toilet. There was already a towel hanging from a bar across from the counter. He closed the door and flicked the lock; he didn’t trust his roommates after multiple pranks had been pulled upon him. He set the clothes on the counter and stripped himself of what little he wore, a pair of ratty boxers. He reached into the glass-encased shower and turned the water on, drawing his arm back quickly as the cold water turned on. He gave it a moment to heat up before he entered in and enjoyed a long shower that only partly washed away the goose bumps and tremors from the dream, nothing could ever fully erase something that didn’t end when one woke up.

Thoughts Of The Day

So today was an interesting day for random thoughts, which is somewhat fitting because it was a very rainy day so I spent a lot of the day inside. Not that I mind being out in the rain but generally speaking I don’t much care to be out in the rain all that much. It did make for a very pretty view with the mountains shrouded in clouds to the point where you couldn’t see their peaks. Either way I enjoyed the rain quite nicely from inside where I was warm and cozy on the couch with the dogs.

One of the biggest things I wound up thinking about actually wound up giving my friend an idea for thesis (which would be her fourth idea!). Anyway, the basic idea behind it came out of a little realization I had. I realized that most people my age (in their twenties) that I know really enjoy many of the TV shows that are currently meant for children. Shows like Steven Universe and Adventure Time. These shows are really enjoyable and part of that is because they have such meaning and character growth. Over the seasons we get to slowly know these characters and see them develop more. They’re also generally talking about good life lessons and tackling serious issues. The characters seem really interesting and they all seem to grow quite a lot throughout the show with episodes focusing on them and whatnot.

I look back on a lot of the cartoons that I remember from my childhood and I don’t really remember seeing that all that much. Sure there were small moments here and there when cartoons from our childhood tackled something major or whatnot but its not nearly so consistent or long term as it is now. Maybe that’s just me not remembering those moments as much and being more focused on the current ones that I click with better but it just seems like current cartoons are so much more focused on talking about and tackling the larger issues in life. (Apparently my boyfriend doesn’t agree with this but, hey, that’s life cause not everyone always agrees.)

I also wound up having a long discussion with the roommate about where in the kitchen certain things should be kept. With a house full of people who are allergic to food in general (I may be exaggerating there a little bit) its sometimes nice to have things sorted so we don’t have to check ingredients before we grab something to eat. Either way we wound up putting a lot of things in different places and reorganizing. Now we just have to wait for my boyfriend to get home and freak out over trying to find things.

And now I’m rounding out my evening by watching New Girl and basically hiding under a blanket the whole time. I’m really bad with shows that are heavy on the embarrassment aspect of things so this show is basically my kryptonite… But there was one line in a recent episode that sorta struck me as amazing. The line was “I’m not convinced I know how to read, I’ve just memorized a lot of words”. There was something about it that just made me and my boyfriend look at each other and laugh for probably five minutes straight.

I kept thinking about it as we were watching other episodes (ones that were making me hide under blankets again because god I really can’t handle embarrassment even on a TV screen) and I finally realized why it struck me… as someone who is dyslexic I sometimes feel exactly like that. The words only come because I’ve memorized them and how they should be not because I really know them or how they’re formed. Maybe that’s why I love words so much but generally hate learning languages. Once I’ve memorized them I can do so much with them but the memorizing part was terribly difficult to begin with and trying to do it with any other language is more then my poor brain can handle.

Anyway I should sign off for the night before my fuddled brain also becomes muddled.

That One Author/Book/Series

So I assume that most avid readers have that one author or that one series or maybe even just that one book that they adore and can’t get enough of. Its a book (or books) that transports you to that world every time you pick it up and you can just get lost in it for hours on end without getting bored. Everyone’s book/author/series is different but its the same feeling for everyone. It just grips you somehow that you can’t possibly explain and you never want to be rid of it.

That’s the kind of author I want to be for even just one person that reads my work. I want my words to flow together in such a way that I inspire people to seek out my world over and over again. I know? Not too much to ask, right? I’m only shooting for the highest possible target there is for an author (at least in my opinion). Well I suppose that is a good goal for the future but for now I’ll think a little smaller. Maybe just getting my work out there for people to actually see it. Gotta take these things one step at a time.

I know for me there’s really more then one author and series that has taken me to their world and shared it with me. But the overarching writer I keep coming back to and just adore is Mercedes Lackey and, in particular, her Valdemar series. There’s just something about it that I love and maybe that’s just because I’ve always thought that horses were one of the most amazing animals ever and her Companions speak volumes to me. Either way she’s been a writer that I’ve sought out over and over again since I picked up her first book at the used bookstore when I was a teenager. I don’t yet have all her books (partly because she keeps putting out new ones!) but I have a load of them to the point that they take up two full shelves in my bookcases.

Anyway, I will admit that I’m always looking for new authors and series that I might find inspirational and enjoyable. So if any of you lovelies who reads this has a series/author/book that you just adore please feel free to suggest it in the comments and I’ll check it out!

Harder Than It Seems

So I talked quite poetically about new beginnings in my first post as if it was going to be this smooth transition into something new and unknown… now that isn’t quite accurate and I think we all know it. Of course I’m primarily an idealist and I’d somewhat hoped that it would be. I hoped that I’d be struck by inspiration every day and write some amazingly interesting blog post about something or other that everyone would enjoy. I’d tell some amusing story or give you a little preview of the kind of writing I want to do. I want to write every day and share all these great things with the world but its just not that easy.

So far its been two days I believe since I got this blog and I’ve posted on it all of once… ideally this should have been my third post and not my second one but ideals don’t always happen. At least not at first. I’m still going to work towards posting every day but I don’t promise to be that good at it at first.

This is all a work in progress and changing the habits of a lifetime (even a lifetime of only 25 years) is hard. It won’t happen overnight and its going to take a lot of hard work on my part, something I’m only just now realizing. I’m not sure I’m up to the task but do any of us know if we are before we actually take that leap of faith and try? I suppose we’ll be finding out together if I’m up to this or not.

I guess all I can say is that I hope you stick around long enough to find out if I can hack it in this world as a writer, dyslexic and prone to fits of procrastination as I am, or not. So cheers to those that choose to stay and fond farewells to those that don’t.