Brain Buzzer...

The other day someone asked me a question. The question was:

If everything can break, can everything be fixed?

I say yes. Let me tell you why. I'm not an optimist or a pessimist. I'm a "It is what it is" person. Everything can be fixed. However, let me use a generic example:

When a pencil tip breaks, we usually push it off to the side - useless, stupid, broken. Right? Right. But, even if you grab glue and tape the poor graphite back to its home, it is not whole. It is fixed. There has been some work to fix that pencil, yeah? Obviously. The littlest things seem worthless to fix, but doing so we waste so much.

Now, to think of the person as a whole. I believe every single being that lives a life not in total sanctuary and cut off from the world will crack, chip, and even break. This is normal. This is a process. Through the process of life, people will reach obstacles. These obstacles can be easy, and extremely undauntingly difficult. So what happens? We crack, we chip. These cracks fill with clue, tape, love, affection, care, and time. They will be fixed. Someone who is a whole is entirely false. We change, just as everything does when they are fixed. A leaky faucet may need a new screw, or a new handle or something. It will never be as it was in a total, original whole.

It is fixed. Fixed is okay. Everyone needs some tape and glue every once in a while.  When things break, they lose little pieces. A piece of graphite will lose some dust in the process. It will never be whole again. Whole is a false sense of peace. Fixed, however, shows strength, love, the will to keep going. Fixed is the most powerful thing a person can be.

So, next time that little crack or chip or shatter happens, remember. Get some glue, a little love, care, and affection and put it back together. Because it's never the end. You are loved, you are fixed, and you are wonderful.

So go be you with your glue, tape, and changed being. Change is good -- change is development. Embrace it!

The writing aspect does exist somewhere.

Okay. First off, I need to get this off my chest. I live in a world of giving up and not trying. If you write and improve and do it seriously, with the plotting/pantsing, editing, rewriting, and the whole nine yards, if someone turns you down, it doesn't make you a bad writer.

I started writing at the age of the nine and...well, duh...it was not that good, to say nicely. Just like your first piece will not be terrific unless you have some magical gene or talent or something. Just like you won't score the winning shot of a NBA game unless you have epic beginner's luck.

Also, for the love of every piece of writing out there, do not compare yourself to anyone but your older pieces. Imagine comparing Beethoven to Pitbull. What do you think will happen? Sheer opposites and people will look at you like "What? Isn't that a movie?" (however, the composer is the one in the example).

You remember that good old phrase? "You are unique." Well, miss anti-Mary Sue (or anti-mister Typical Peter), so are you! (hah. that rhymed) So, when you write your story of goblins and dinos or monsters or paranormal or creepy pasta or romance or syfy or WHATEVER your heart pleases, don't think "this person is better than I am" because your writing is the best YOU can do, so it doesn't matter if the person next to you can write good romance! Maybe you're awesome at horror and that person can only write "She died from the axe murder. People cried and screamed. THE END!:D" I mean, that's about all I can do. So keep on doing what you do best which is writing YOUR stuff! Strut your stuff! You are you. So, for the love of literature, please never down yourself because you think you're not good enough.

If you enjoy writing then, please, by all means, write! You only  become better through practice. And if writing is only a hobby for you, great! You don't need to write just to give your pieces out to the public. They're as private or out there as you want them, so do what you love.

And also, goodness, how many authors have been published the FIRST manuscript they send in? Keep trying with whatever you do, whether it's writing or anything else you love to do.

A Life of a Writing Bookworm in Pain

One of the greatest parts of being a developing writer is my excuse to procrastinate: school. However, what do I use as an excuse to avoid schoolwork?: writing, of course. Needless to say, both have been startled to a grinding halt as I simply struggle to wake in the morning and then trudge through the rest of the day with pain radiating throughout my body with sharp stabs of sudden, unnecessary jabs of pain.

So when you feel like death, and someone says to you in those shiny white coats and baby blue face masks that "Nothing appears to be wrong", what would you say?

 

Exactly. It's like "Really? REALLY?"

 

 

Anyways, being busy is such a big butthead. If I'm not drowning in AP testing, schoolwork, or writing, I'm definitely drowning in pain. So, needless to say, doing camp this year for July should be one heck of a journey.

 

I just really need to start a club for the "Doctors Say Nothing's Wrong so Let's Go Die in Peace". Not really die. But it gets the idea across. Having doctors scratch their heads at your predicament is probably one of the most frustrating experiences I have ever had to deal with. You wanna kick and scream and run around until you put Spongebob to shame with his super-speed costume. Of course, then if you're like me you won't be able to move for a week.

 

But I do know this summer I have homework on top of editing two novellas, writing a novel (and plotting it, too. shoot), and keeping up with all the college things because OHMYGOD COLLEGE IS SCARY. *hides* 

I call it "Febno"

And to anyone who has done Nano, I know I am crazy. I'd like to introduce you to my Febno novel, first book of the Defender's Trilogy, "Claimed by the Silver Star". Clapclap. I sound like I'm about to open a play. Anyways.

Isn't it pretty? Even if not, that's a cover I made. One of the easier covers...

This took me about a month to plan, and I'm hoping to finish this by 11:59pm on Feburary 28th, 2013. It may or may not happen. It all depends on my productivity. If I do, hurray! And shame on me for bailing out in November, which is 31 days of 50k writing madness.

Here. Have part of a chapter 1:

Chapter 1

The rancid scent of acid burned his throat as he advanced forward. His daggers were forcing him to come closer than usual, causing him to step and nearly slip in the slick venom of the demon. It was rapidly taking advantage of his position and nearly sent him sprawling in the puddles of murky, green poison. It was close that he could see the slick scales and black-tipped claws, which had nearly scratched his eyes out multiple times since the fight had begun. It chattered madly as he swiped down and buried the dagger into its rubbery skin. It squealed; the sound sent shivers through his spine. Thick blood spurted from the wound and he hissed, kicking the thing in the head.

There was a quiet gasp behind him. He swore and took the final blow, slamming the other blade into its head. The rapid breathing quieted. He turned to see a rather small girl staring wide-eyed at him. Mustering up his best scowl, he glowered at her.

“Go home.”

“Y-you’re hurt!” She blurted. Her silver hair was the only detail he could make out in the dark alley.

“Go away,” he demanded and stooped to collect his weapons from the mess of scales and venom. Still, she did not leave. In fact, she had stepped closer and held out a slim, dainty hand.

“Please,” she whispered. “You could die from that.”

He chuckled, “Will I?”

“You won’t…attack me, will you?”

He examined her closely; he took in her long wool coat that reached her knees and then a sliver of jeans tucked into black boots with buckles up the shin. Her metallic hair flowed down her back in silky waves and stopped just above her waist.

“Go home, I don’t need a doctor.”

“N…no, you don’t,” she stammered nervously. “Let me touch you.”

He raised an eyebrow, “What?”

“Don’t hurt me,” she insisted and put her hand on his arm. He remained still as the throbbing slash on his bicep closed beneath her fingers. She looked up at him when only a faint scar remained of the battle wound with raw terror etched into her features. “Y…you look mad.”

“That’s one way to put it,” he said with a long-practiced calm. “So, Silver, how did you do that?”

She blinked, “Silver? I…I… don’t know. I – uh – are you hurt anywhere else?”

“A few scrapes and bruises,” he waved it off. “But… I need you to come with me.”

“You just told me to go!” She stumbled back with a yelp and then continued to slowly back away. “I – I think I’ll go do that, now.”

“Running won’t do you any good,” he advised. Silver’s bottom lip quivered and he could almost taste the fear coming off of her.

“Don’t hurt me,” she repeated with a sob, “please!”

“My name is Dank,” he began slowly. “You’re probably safer with me than you believe.”

“M-my name is Star,” she finally said. She was now nearing the entrance of the alley and looked relieved. She truly believed she could get away. She touched the walls on either side of her; the alley narrowed the further you exited.

Dank sighed, “I’m the good guy.”

“What you killed begged for mercy! It promised answers and to aid you in something. It pleaded you desperately! He said you were not a stupid bird and proceeded to call you a powerful Raven. How can you be the good guy?!”

In the moment she blinked, Dank placed himself at the end of the alley, which was about two feet in front of her. He braced himself on either building beside him. Star whirled around and whimpered. He had moved impossibly fast and silently; she had not even felt a rush of wind when he jumped over her. His eyebrows were furrowed with question.

“You could understand it?” He growled, his posture becoming rigid. He was suddenly prepared to strike.

“You…you couldn’t?” Her eyes grew wide again. He could now see the green irises with hazel specs and the thick mascara making her eyelashes look full and long. He slowly shook his head and tears started to freely glide down her cheeks.

“I…just please come with me, Silver. I am not going to hurt you.”

She nodded quietly. He took her arm and led her to his Harley. He put her on the very front of the seat and slid up behind her, “Sorry. No helmet. Just hold on.”

Dank turned onto the busy roads of New York City and gunned the engine. He swerved between different cars and taxis that honked at him, but he waved them off. He even skipped several stoplights before slowing down.

Soon they reached a quieter spot and they had somehow reached the heart of Manhattan. He pulled up in front of a two-story building with an old Volkswagen in the driveway. Dank parked next to this and ran up to the front door, towing her along, before barging straight inside.

Chilly wood floors were the only decoration in the bland white foyer until Dank stepped in through the swinging door. The living room had a large flat screen TV with a tangled game console attached to it. Headphones were flung down on one of the three couches surrounding the TV, and several beer cans littered the floor. Dank chose to ignore the articles of clothing strewn about.

He walked over to the wall beside a door and banged on it repeatedly, “Jig! Jig! Choose another day to bang a girl. I need you.”

Quiet swearing was muffled by the wall, but then there was a shuffle of clothes and a zipper. The door swung open and Jig walked in while buttoning his jeans. He wore no shirt and his shaggy blond hair was a complete clawed mess atop his head.

“What the hell do you -.” He paused and looked over at Star, who was clutching Dank’s jacket and hiding behind him. “Ah…Who’s this?”

“Hold out your arm,” Dank said. Jig did with a raised eyebrow.

He used his knife to cut open Jig’s arm, and the hawk snarled and snatched his hand back, staring at the blood oozing from the fresh wound, “What the fuck, Abijah?”

Dank ignored his partner and peeled Star from his jacket, pointing to Jig, “Heal him.”

Star stepped forward and clutched Jig’s wrist with shaky fingers. He watched in horror as he healed, then his eyebrows furrowed and he stared at the pale fingers wrapped around his wrist. Then he redirected his glare to Dank, “Awesome. A Robin. Now what?”

“Jig, she’s not a Robin,” Dank snapped. “She’s not… Resurrected. She doesn’t have wings. She seems truly lost. The only thing that made her appear different was her hair.”

Jig pinched the bridge of his nose, “What’s your name?”

“Star,” she said more to the leather jacket than Jig himself.

“And you’re…human?”

“As far as I know…”

Jig suddenly whirled around and reentered the kitchen. There were a few murmurs, female protest, and then a door slamming shut and heels clicking on the pavement as the ‘guest’ walked away. Dank guided Star into the kitchen and went to join Jig at the counter, which was to the left of the entrance. Jig had his palms flat on the island, hanging over the sink which was overflowing with dishes.

He snapped out of his trans and went to set up a coffee pot by adding water from a gallon and putting a French blend of coffee into the filter. It bubbled and Jig took out three coffee mugs. Dank eyed Star closely as she quietly walked across the room, pausing at the dining table.

“Wouldn’t touch that if I were you,” Dank laughed. “That table has seen more than its fair share of ladies.”

“Ah, shut your gob,” Jig hit him upside the back of the head. “It’s fine, girl. Don’t trust this maniac.”

She offered up a small smile and Jig poured three steaming cups of hazelnut coffee. He slid a cup across the island to Star, who came over and sniffed it. Jig couldn’t help but watch her as she gingerly added cream and exactly a half spoon of sugar to her coffee before sipping it. She was extremely delicate.

“You’re something else,” Jig exclaimed. “How long have you been able to do this?”

Star peeked up at him timidly, “About nine years.”

He nodded slowly and Dank grabbed an apple from the fruit basket near the fridge.

“Would Sy know?” He asked around the juicy fruit. Jig shrugged.

If you have read through all of that, then you have all my gratitude. I do hope to finish this soon enough. Y'know, even though I'm about 6-8k behind. I can do this!