SeeSaraWrite

Repetitive Redundancies. And Philip Winchester.

2009-11-12T00:32:00.006-05:00

I fear doing any kind of blog post now will be a repeat of yesterday's and the day before. Editing. Woe. Tragedy. Eyesight loss. Been there, done that, aye?

I considered doing a Q&A session again, as it's been a few weeks since I did one, but I feel that would be too easy of an out. Instead, for being such loyal reader people through my days of editing FIENDISH-ness, I shall stage a Q&A about YOU! People who stick around through incoherent posts and whining about an editing-induced lack of nutrients must be some seriously awesome people. And I want to know more about seriously awesome people.

So here are some questions. Answer whichever ones you feel compelled to answer. While I wait for your super awesome responses, I'll be over there. Editing. Still. And oh yeah, studying for finals and stuff. Not like that's important.

1) Pirates or Ninjas? I had to ask. My position is obvious (though Ninjas are undeniably AWESOME too).

2) Outline or no outline? I think I've asked something similar before. It's still interesting to see the divide.

3) An army of penguins is heading your way. You have an ice cannon, a well-fortified refrigerator, and an ice cream truck. How do you fight them off?

4) Will you see the New Moon movie? I plan on seeing it. Don't judge.

5) Why do you think most dog treats consist of the same ingredients as human cookies? Why wouldn't we just give our dogs human cookies instead of making specialized "dog cookies" if they're exactly the same? One of the great quandaries of our time.

6) You're on an island. A desert island. You can choose one character from any novel/work of literature to be with you on that island. Choice?

And here's something gawk at:

That's my beloved Philip Winchester and his Crusoe co-star Tongayi Chirisa. And you thought Philip Winchester was the only pretty person in Crusoe. That show's a one-two punch, my friends.

Burnt Like a Piece of Toast

2009-11-11T01:00:00.001-05:00

Editing-burn-out hit me hard yesterday, my friends. I was going strong. 2.5 days of editing straight. I thought I could press on to the end. And everything was peachy.

Until about 4PM yesterday afternoon. Right smack dab, of course, in the middle of my archaeology class. At that point, I realized two things. Firstly, archaeology just isn't interesting when your eyes are so fuzzled from staring at a laptop that you can't see the projector screen at the front of the classroom. Secondly, I hadn't eaten anything since 10AM that morning. Left over Chinese food and Mint Truffle Hershey Kisses just don't satisfy one's appetite all day.

So don't expect a super snappy blog post (I'm still suffering editing-hangover). The title is as snappy as I plan on getting. In fact, I'm going to steal snappy things from other people.

First stolen snap: My beloved cousin received a good bout of my editing-burn-out complaining yesterday and redirected me to Libba Bray's post: Writing a Novel, a Love Story. Not only do I love Libba Bray to pieces, but re-reading that post gave me a new burst of hope. It's okay to hate my novel with the fire of a thousand toasters (gotta keep the toast analogy going). I'd say I'm somehwere between The Revision, On Deadline and The Revision, Near the End. Though I'm not on a deadline (yet. *gulp*). I'm caught in that weird limbo of OHMYGODIHATEYOUIHATEYOU and When I'm not Working on You, You're Actually Quite Pretty. I did make one revision today that I liked. One. Out of how many? *whimpers*

Second stolen snap: Last night I had the immense pleasure of attending a NaNoWriMo Write-In (they didn't throw me out for doing NaNoRevisMo! Yay!) where I got to chat it up writing-style with Dara Sorensen over at Tales From the Writing Front. For a long time it felt like all my writer people were way out west. I was quite lonely, here in my corniness. But then I found out Dara was not only in the same area of the corn belt as me but was also doing NaNo (back when I was, ahem, doing NaNo), and I got really excited. Yay, Eastern Cornbelt Writers! Woot woot!

AND as if she wasn't awesome enough, she nominated me for a blog award! If my brain wasn't so fuzzled (I already used the word "fuzzled" to describe myself, didn't I?), I would nominate people, but I fear my nominating judgement is clouded.

(And I just realized that other people have nominated me for blog awards in the past too...and I think I may have forgotten to acknowledge how warm and fuzzy that made me feel! Fuzzy, mind you, not fuzzled. Big difference. But my brain fuzzled-ness is preventing me from remembering if I acknowledged the other blog awards...if I didn't, YOU GUYS ROCK!! If I did, well, YOU GUYS STILL ROCK!!)

To sum up: Libba Bray is a goddess, Dara Sorensen is super fun and totally the kind of big sis I would want (the write-offs she has with her sister are INTENSE, ya'll; if I could get my little sis to WRITE, let alone have a write-off with me, I think the world would implode), and leaving your brain in the toaster for too long makes it way too crispy. And crispy brains make for poor judgement calls. Like eating half a bag of Mint Truffle Hershey Kisses. Ow.

NaNo No Mo

2009-11-10T00:38:00.005-05:00

That was supposed to be all slang-like for "no more." I think I spelled it wrong. Oh well; I never claimed to be "down with it."

Some of you may have noticed the disappearance of my NaNo sidebar thingamajig. Yes, this means what you think it means: I have stopped doing NaNo.

Now listen! *ducks* Stop throwing red pens at me! I have a good reason!

I've been sucked back into the world of Stream Pirate. All your support during ISPAW helped with that, as did a few minor (*coughcoughNOTreallyminorcoughcough*) revelations. Thus I set aside my beloved Max (don't worry, dear Maxie; you will get your day) to partake instead of NaNoRevisMo.

And let me tell you, I am an editing FIEND. This is not a good thing.

See, when I edit, I get it into my head that I have to do it all NOW. Or ASAP. Thus I spend day after day hunched over my laptop until midnight at which point I sit up, stretch, and realize I haven't eaten since breakfast (my next book idea: The Editing Diet: How to Trim the Pounds While Trimming the Words). This is not healthy, for the obvious reasons. But it is also not healthy because NO ONE CAN EDIT A BOOK IN ONE SITTING.

(I capitalized that for my benefit.)

I guess I should specify: No one can edit a book WELL in one sitting. Whatever little voice in my head that thinks otherwise is wrong. Wrong, wrong, wrong. And this is why, in timeline form:

10AM: This is GREAT! Wow, these changes are working so well. Everything's clicking! Like one of those 500 piece puzzles!

12PM: Gosh, it's already been two hours? I swear it should still be 10:30AM!

2:30PM: This is going so well. But -- I can't feel my legs.

4:00PM: I only looked away from my laptop for a second, but WOW. I don't remember outside being so bright.

5:00PM: What's that buzzing sound? Uhoh. Arm's asleep now.

6:30PM: But if I don't edit this to fit with that, I'll lose the mojo! One more paragraph!

8:00PM: Eyes. Burning. Can't. Stop. One more! One more page, I swear I'll stop after that!

10:00PM: Words. Floating. Why does my body hurt? OW! The moon is so BRIGHT! Make it stop, make it stop!

12:00AM: ...

(The "..." represents an inability to form coherent sentences. Because after 12+ hours of editing, all words, no matter how BRILLIANT, lose their meaning. You start saying things like "The puppy's bed is the room living in!" and you just CANNOT figure out why that sentence doesn't sound right. It's infuriating.)

So, take it from me. Edit in moderation.

If now excuse you'll me, I have to bed go.

Dear Fall Quarter,

2009-11-09T10:40:00.002-05:00

It's me again. I know, long time no see, right? I guess that's mostly my fault. I did spend an awful lot of time with your cousins Winter and Spring Quarter. I even had a brief stint with Summer Quarter, but that didn't last long; he's much too short-tempered.

But here we are again. You and me. Me and You. Us and we. You were always my favorite, y'know? You came after such a nice, long break that I always felt ready to tackle anything you could throw at me. I was refreshed, rejuvenated. Nay; I was EAGER. Not to mention you take place during my favorite season. Watching all the leaves change on campus -- beautiful. Wearing cute little sweaters and scarves and boots -- comfy. Ah, Fall Quarter, we had some good times, you and I.

It is then with a heavy, um, fingers that I type this letter to you. I know your intentions were good. I know you only meant to entice me with your weekly papers, your brain-melting articles, your three-hour-long lectures. I know you only meant to shape me into a brighter, smarter student. Believe me, I get that. I really do. But this -- this just isn't working for me.

In the past, I was able to put my life on hold, so to speak, for you, Fall Quarter, and everyone else in your family. I was able to set aside my writing aspirations and social life in exchange for hours of studying and paper-writing and lecture-listening. Why the change, then? Why do I suddenly find myself merely glancing at lecture material the night before a test? Why do I suddenly find myself hastily scribbling down a 4-page paper the day it's due? Why do I suddenly find myself not at all caring what you think of me?

No, I'm really asking you. I was hoping you'd know. Did you get boring all of a sudden? I thought I saw some extra pounds sneak into those textbooks. You've stopped going to the on-campus gym, haven't you?

Never mind. It's over. I wash my hands of you, Fall Quarter. I have something better in my life now. I don't need YOU and YOUR time constraints and YOUR nagging and YOUR homework and YOUR paper-writing. I have my own stuff now, uh-huh. Yeah. And it's BETTER than you. I'm happy. Me and my story revisions? We're happy. They're the only deadlines I need.

Sorry I had to break this to you online. It hurts, I know. But hey, you totally embarrassed me when I had to read one of my horrifically and hurriedly written papers aloud. Payback is a b-touting witch, my friend.

Don't bother writing back. If you do have anything to say to me, say it through Winter Quarter. He was always so much better at buffering things than you.

Sincerely,
Sara

CONTESTS! AN ISPAW DRAWING! And Philip Winchester

2009-11-07T16:00:00.004-05:00

Why, yes, I am going to put "And Philip Winchester" into my blog post titles until he sees my lofty dream (which I have labeled "The Lofty Philip Winchester Wish" in the sidebar). Why, no, there's nothing you can do about it. But why would you want to? Putting "And Philip Winchester" into my blog post titles requires me to also tack on pictures of Philip Winchester. Pictures like this:

It's a win-win situation.

On an un-Philip related note, there are a number of REALLY AWESOME contests floating through the blogosphere. Observe:

Lisa and Laura over at Lisa and Laura Write just got a book deal. With Sourcebooks. I know, right? It needs to be said twice: Lisa and Laura just got a BOOK DEAL WITH SOURCEBOOKS.

Let that sink in.

Once that has thoroughly sunken, check out their FREAKISHLY AWESOME GIVEAWAY.

They're giving away a KINDLE.

Now, I'm decidedly anti-this-whole-electronic-book-thing, mainly because I like my books to be paper. But it's a Kindle. For FREE. And just because one has a Kindle doesn't mean one has to give up buying "real" books, right? Right. So go enter. Now. Do it. And don't forget to congratulate the snot out of them.

The second SUPER AWESOME CONTEST is over at Frankie Writes. She's giving away an ARC of Fallen by Lauren Kate. ARC contests make me giggle, because there's something extra awesome about having an ARC. No one else has this book yet. It feels all secretive and uber-special, like you're part of some top-secret book-reviewing club.

Not to mention this book has a kick-butt book trailer.

Last but most certainly not least: Go to Natalie Whipple's blog. Now.

Do it. I'll wait.

La-di-da.

I KNOW right?! It's just-- and their embrace-- and Yazoo-- and WOW. I'm speechless. Speech.less. I mean, I knew Natalie was an amazing artist. But SEEING them like that is just -- wow. Needless to say, I'm giddy.

Winner, Winner, Chicken Dinner and Philip Winchester

2009-11-06T20:43:00.008-05:00

Firstly, ya'll are funny.

Secondly, this contest was difficult to judge. Partly because ya'll are so funny, and partly because Yazoo doesn't really smile very much even when things are funny. The only person he ever really smiles for is Lu, and even then it's usually smiling AT Lu, not WITH Lu, because chances are she's done something that has inadvertently made everyone smile in a my-god-is-she-really-THAT-ditzy way.

Yazoo: But don't call her ditzy. She doesn't like that.

I am very much aware of that. Remember the great story-halt of '08? I know not to mess with her. Too often.

Yazoo: So, I suppose you'd like me to pick a winner?

That would go nicely with the blog post title, yes.

Yazoo: What were the entries again?

All the entries or just the finalists?

Yazoo: The finalists. Lu's dragging me to some ball thing later tomorrow. I need time to hide.

All righty then, the finalists, as chosen by the fact that they actually made Yazoo chuckle a bit:

Adam Heine's unfortunate situation for Peat: Being the guy who relays the captain's orders to the crew.

Cap'n: Storm's coming. All hands, batten the hatches!
Peat: All hands, storm the hatches!
Cap'n: Don't fire at 'em 'til you see the whites of their eyes!
Peat: Fire at the whites of their eyes!

Yazoo: It only made me chuckle because it HAPPENED. You try being stuck in the middle of a river-fight with CTD officers on every side and crocpeople tearing holes in your hull. Then add a crew member who likes to repeat your orders LOUDLY and INCORRECTLY, and suddenly a simple command like "Fire all! Keep them away from the hull!" becomes "Keep them all from the fire!" Luckily the rest of my crew has learned how to semi-interpret Peat's disjointed shouts.

Okay, so still just chuckle-worthy on that one?

Yazoo: Only if you can find something funny about crocpeople ripping my hull apart. Dam river beasties...

Next finalist:

Renee's very thought-provoking statement: "I wonder what happened when poor young Peat got the "birds and the bees" talk."

Yazoo: Again, it's only funny because it HAPPENED. I'd explain, but the conversation isn't exactly blog-appropriate. Suffice to say one of Peat's favorite phrases to find in other people's conversations is now "Let me go down your dock!" We had to use a lot of river-analogies...

So you admit that Renee's entry was funny? Is that a smile I see?

Yazoo: Only for you, Ren.
(again, a little imagination is needed. Eye patch. Right eye.)

Yay, Renee!! Shoot my your address at seesarawrite(at)gmail.com and I'll get your very own hand-crafted notebook out to you ASAP!

On a completely unrelated note, I have a new life dream. Want to hear it?

Well, I look through a lot of pictures of Philip Winchester. Er, that sounds stalkerish. I look at a completely normal, non-obsessive amount of pictures of Philip Winchester. Every time I see that man I get all bubbly-excited and go "Yazoo! It's Yazoo!" at which point Lu gets really confused because her Yazoo is missing his right eye.

So I've decided that my life dream is to get Philip Winchester to take a picture with an eye patch on his right eye. (See The Lofty Philip Winchester Wish in the sidebar)

A lofty dream? Yes. But I figure if my lowly blog can get onto Google when you search his name (I've been bumped down to the FOURTH PAGE! Infidels!), then maybe if he Googles himself (who doesn't Google themselves?) he'll see my lowly blog, and my lofty dream, and email me a photo of himself with an eye patch on his right eye.

Hey, laugh all you want. But when I post that picture of Philip Winchester with his eye patch, you'll be sorry you chuckled.

Though you probably won't be sorry you get to look at Philip Winchester. I mean, who could ever be sorry they looked at this?

Or this?
Okay, this IS bordering on stalkerish now. Stay tuned for another post sometime Saturday afternoon. I promise it will be less-stalkerish, and more about contests and one last super-awesome Stream Pirate ISPAW surprise.

ISPAW Day 5!

2009-11-06T00:00:00.000-05:00

So, this week's been pretty much fun. Got to hang with some pirates, reminisce over yesteryear, chat about books. What could possibly make this week any better?

Two things, actually.

Firstly, be sure to keep a careful eye on Natalie Whipple's blog tomorrow. I'll make mention of when said exciting post pops up, but until then...just, keep an eye on it. It's been known to do some awesome stuff.

Secondly, I composed a short video to cap off this week's festivities. As today (November 6th) is my dearly beloved Stream Pirate's actual birthday, I felt a special present for it was in store. Er, well, for Yazoo particularly. But he's who ya'll want to see anyway, right? Need I post that mock-up picture of Philip Winchester again?

BUT before I get to the special birthday video, I believe I have a WINNER to announce!

*drum roll*

The winner of their very own super awesome copy of Mythology by Edith Hamilton is commenter #8, Hayley! Yay, Hayley!! Shoot me your address and I'll get it in the post for ya!

Without further ado: a tribute to Yazoo Oxbow. (I used clips from my newly acquired Crusoe DVDs. Obviously, Crusoe is not missing his right eye; Yazoo is. So imagine Crusoe-playing-Yazoo with an eye patch on his right eye.)

Happy ISPAW, everyone! Thanks for making International Stream Pirate Appreciation Week a success :)

I'll be back tomorrow with the winner of the hand-crafted notebook as well as Nat-nat's super cool Stream Pirate surprise! There's still time to get your entries into the notebook contest; you have until Friday night at 8:43PM EST!

ISPAW Day 4!

2009-11-04T23:13:00.000-05:00

In the past few days I dove back into the world of Stream Pirate to ponder a few edits/revisions/things-that-will-most-likely-end-up-making-me-pull-my-hair-out-but-will-in-the-end-make-the-book-that-much-more-amazing. In diving back in, I got to think about how Stream Pirate came to be. Not just the late night geology class revelation. The bricks of the house of Stream Pirate. The bibles in my religion of Sedimentology. The Rosetta stones of the great and complicated language of Riverish.

You get the picture.

Throughout the writing of Stream Pirate, there were two books I could not, not, NOT have written without. Two books that I referenced so often and used for inspiration so frequently that they look very worn and quite sad. Two books that I am positive were never intended to be reference books for a YA story about rivers and sediment and pirates.

The first I highly recommend to anyone, not just people who write stuff or are interested in pirates. I can't say enough good things about this book; it's exciting and riveting and informative and gasp-inducing. And it's NONFICTION, which continues to blow my mind, as college has made me come to associate nonfiction books with OHMYGODMYBRAINISMELTING. But this book is the exception to that phenomenon.

The Republic of Pirates: Being the True and Surprising Story of the Caribbean Pirates and the Man Who Brought Them Down by Colin Woodard

Mouthful? Yes. Boring? Absolutely not. This book expertly sums up the history of the real live pirates of the Caribbean with more than just "Henry Avery sailed for this many years. Edward Thatch sailed for this many years." There are battles and allegiances and family drama and heartache and hardship and mutiny. I picked it up because I wanted some frame of reference for my own pirates. What I got was a book that tells history in a way that makes it feel like a story. Which is how I believe history should be portrayed; not as a bunch of dates and facts and boring chunks of information in textbooks. But as love and pain and adventure and cannon fire and smoke. They were PEOPLE who lived and felt just as we live and feel. I think modern day history teachings tend to forget that.

There's a blog rant in the making. On to the second book:

The second book is another that I think many people, writing and non-writing, could benefit from though it is more reference-y and less read-for-fun-y. I first came across it in high school. It was quite literally love at first sight, and I haven't been without a copy since.

Mythology by Edith Hamilton

It's a mythology buff's handbook. It sums up most every myth (focusing on the Greek/Roman myths, but with a few Norse thrown in), from Jason to Perseus to the Gods. Instant inspiration; more than a few Stream Pirate characters popped out of its pages. It's great if you need some weird and random character trait or if you're in the market for Greek names. A must for every bookshelf, just because it's so awesome.

Now that I've made you realize your life is not complete without these books, what kind of ISPAW host would I be if I didn't give away at least one of them? For your winning pleasure I have a fresh copy of Edith Hamilton's Mythology (it's in much better condition than my copy. Fear not). You want it? Do ya do ya do ya?

This contest will be easy: Leave a comment by 11:00 PM EST Thursday, at which point I will enroll the aid of the trusty Random Number Generator to pick a winner, who will be announced on Friday's ISPAW post.

BUT don't forget about my OTHER ISPAW contest. The deadline for that one isn't until Friday at 8:43 PM EST, so you have a bit longer to think of a really awkward situation for Peat, the poor guy who's cursed to only speak when repeating what others have already said (and he often repeats the things incorrectly). You can win Arachne's super awesome handcrafted notebook.

Mythology books. Notebooks. You lucky devils, you.

ISPAW Day 3!

2009-11-03T21:13:00.000-05:00

Since Arachne and Danny were quite, ahem, rude during yesterday's introductions, I've seen fit to come to a bit of a compromise with them. They give me something to give out as a prize, and I don't make them do anything they find, as Arachne put it, "dumber than swimming upstream towards a hungry band of river nymphs."

Danny's still trying to come up with a possible prize (which, in Danny terms, means not to hold your breath), but Arachne has graciously donated an embroidered notebook she crafted herself. Observe:

Yeah. Pretty wicked sweet. And trust me, anything Arachne makes is always freakishly amazing. Just ask Yazoo.

But before I get to the rules and such regarding how to win this lovely notebook (which looks surprisingly similar to one I just bought at the Mall of India...weird), I realized a few introductions got lost yesterday in all the chaos. It's nearly impossible to get the crew together like that without some kind of bickering match though, so suffice to say each member of Yazoo's crew is colorful in his or her own way.

Yazoo: That's a polite way of putting it.

Lu: What she meant to say was "Each member is skilled at driving everyone bonkers in his or her own way."

Well, if you'd like to explain in greater detail, be my guest.

Lu: I thought all the bloggers were our guests.

They are our guests. It's a figure of speech.

Yazoo: Sure it is.

Lu: Someone should at least explain Peat's problem. You teased our poor guests yesterday, but never told them what's wrong with him.

Yazoo: There's nothing wrong with Peat! Oh, don't give me that look.

Lu: Oh, no, you're absolutely right. There's not a thing wrong with someone who was cursed only to speak when repeating what someone else has already said. Not to mention he has the brain of an overexcited puppy.

Yazoo: He's -- a great conversation starter.

Lu: He CAN'T start conversations!

Yazoo: He's a great conversation piece.

Lu: Now that I'll agree with. He's great at parties. Totally rocks the game Telephone.

Yazoo: And MadGab. But never, ever watch a movie with him. He misquotes the entire thing.

Lu: True. The end of Titanic became "JACK! LET GO!"

That's it! In order to win Arachne's handcrafted notebook, come up with situations that would be really unfortunate for poor Peat. Awkward conversations, annoying interludes. Anything that you wouldn't want someone to repeat -- and not only that, but repeat incorrectly. Leave your situations in the comments section.

Lu: Can I pick the deadline?

Go ahead.

Lu: Okay...deadline: Friday. 8:43PM EST. Exactly.

8:43PM? Why 8:43PM?

Lu: Why not?

Works for me. Deadline to win Arachne's notebook: Friday, November 6, at 8:43PM EST. Get your piratic brains a-pumping and give me your silliest, most embarassing Peat situations! Multiple entries encouraged. The one that makes Yazoo crack a smile wins.

ISPAW Day 2!

2009-11-02T23:22:00.000-05:00

Photo album flashback day was a huge success! Thanks for showing up, everyone; reminiscing is so much more effective with friends!

Lu kindly pointed something out to me after you all left and we were cleaning up those scrumptious cookie trays. While she recognized a few faces in the crowd, there were quite a few she had never seen before. When she mentioned this, I realized I'd committed a huge hostess faux pas: me, in all my excitement about ISPAW, forgot that most of you have never met Lu, Yazoo, and the crew. So even though you all smiled and dressed up really nice for Photo Album Flashback Day, you were probably whispering to each other "My god, what is Peat talking about?"

Without further ado, then, I shall introduce everyone around. Here with us today is Yazoo, Lu, and Yaz's crew: Arachne, Danny, Perry, Ikkin, Ron, and Peat. Who wants to go first? Yazoo? Where'd Yazoo go?

Arachne: Chasing after Peat. Cars fascinate the river sludge out of him.

All right, fine. How about you, Arachne?

Arachne: I'd really rather not.

Just say a few things about yourself. What do you do? Why are you in the story? That kind of thing.

Arachne: I'm Arachne. I weave things. A lot of things. Most importantly the nets we use to haul sediment around to rechannel rivers.

Anything else?

Arachne: Yazoo doesn't pay me enough.

Perry: Yazoo pays you? It's because you're a girl, isn't it?

Perry! Why don't you go next?

Perry: Don't mind if I do. I'm Perry Grinkboro, Yazoo's second-in-command. I'm wicked good at steering the Rapid Meander and charting courses through Radial Stream. The ladies love a helmsman, I tell ya what.

Danny: Too bad Yazoo's the helmsman and you're just the second-in-command.

Ikkin: She's got you there.

Peat: You're too bad! Got you there.

Ron: Peat's back, but where's Yazoo?

Arachne: Hiding from Sara's introduction day.

Lu: No, he was waking me up from a nap. What'd I miss?

Okay, this is getting a little out of hand. Lu and Yaz, why don't you just introduce yourselves before the crew scares everyone away?

Perry: WE would scare them away? Have you met Lu?

Peat: WE! AWAY!

Ikkin: Why isn't there any food? Lu, Yazoo, and Peat got cookies yesterday. You invite us, and no cookies?

Lu! Yazoo! Introductions!

Lu: Calm down, Ikkin, I'll get you some lemon-crusted salmon bites back at Castle Fan. But before Sara deletes us right out of this blog post, hi, I'm Alluvial Fan. Heir of Radial Stream, suitor-rejector extraordinaire, and stream pirate.

Yazoo: I wouldn't tell people you're a stream pirate. Isn't exactly popular at court.

Lu: That's why people don't like you? I thought it was because Peat's always with you.

Peat: Don't like Peat? Thought that's why!

Ron: No one's explained Peat's little problem yet, have they?

No, actually. But Yazoo, just introduce yourself--

Yazoo: Take a breath, author. I'm Yazoo Oxbow, captain of the Rapid Meander for the past eight years. Apparently I'm the most notorious stream pirate in Radial Stream, but it's not a title I really wanted.

Arachne: Don't be so modest. The CTD hasn't been able to catch him. Ever. It's like the Rapid Meander just vanishes.

Danny: Wow. Haven't heard that one before.

Arachne: Danny, you wish you could be that clever.

Danny: Oh, yeah. My biggest dream in life is to be like you.

Arachne: No; your biggest dream in life is to be with Perry.

Danny: Yours will be a slow death.

Okay, um, I'm going to escort our guests to the door before -- DUCK!

*vase shatters on the wall*

Danny: That could've been expensive!

Arachne: It still had the Target clearance sticker on it.

Lu: Really, guys, try to show some dignity. First impressions and all.

Ikkin: We're pirates. What kind of impression were you expecting?

Ron: Maybe we should've had a demonstration. Rechanneled a river or something.

Danny: Arachne, you can't hide! Don't you dare leave this room! Arachne--

*footsteps pound down a hall, followed by a door slamming and more ceramics shattering*

Okay, um, well, introduction day. Yes. This went well. If you have any questions for Yazoo, Lu, or his crew, feel free to leave them in the comments--

Danny: ARACHNE STOLE MY RIFLE!

Arachne: Only because she stole my weaving needles!

Oy vey.

ISPAW Day 1!

2009-11-02T09:52:00.000-05:00

Avast, mates! Today be the first day of International Stream Pirate Appreciation Week! Let me hear ya say "Arrrggghhh!"

(Okay, Yazoo's giving me a look. Fine. You don't HAVE to say argh. I mean, Yazoo and his crew don't even say argh. Horrible stereotype thrust upon pirates, really. But it's just so much fun to let one loose every once in awhile.)

Today also be my 200th blog post! Let me hear ya say "Woot woot!"

(Yazoo is still giving me a look. No, pirates don't say woot woot, you're right, Yaz. But NORMAL, non-piratic people do. Oh, just go back to staring at Lu until I need you.)

In honor of all this Arghing and Woot-wooting, I have a very exciting treat in store. It seems fitting that, being the first day of ISPAW (isn't that fun to say?), we start from the beginning. The very beginning. The beginning of the beginning, if you will.

November 6, 2006. The day my geology professor kindly bored me to a new shade of boredom then shoved the term "stream piracy" into my midst. What ensued will forever be known as:

The Day Stream Pirate was Born.

Let's look at some pics from the photo album, shall we? That's what people do on birthdays, aye? Reminisce over photos. So grab a cookie from the party tray and come gather next to me on the sofa. Oh, just remember not to feed too many cookies to Peat. He gets horribly hyper if he's had too much chocolate.

Oh, look at this picture! Yazzie, it's your first photo! You were so photogenic, even so early on.

Yazoo Stick Figure Caption: Avast, me hearties! I've come to steal ye sediment. Argh!

See, Yaz? You said "Argh!" Proof, right there in the photo album! Oh, don't roll your eye at me.

Lu: Don't worry, Sara; he's just a little grumpy. Birthdays make him feel old.

You're only turning 3.

Lu: In human years! In book years that's like 12. Remember how long it takes to get anything done in the book world? We're getting old! Dried up!

Oh, don't exaggerate.

Yazoo: She's good at that. Ow, don't hit me!

Now, now, children. We still have quite a few photos to look at. Aw! Remember this one? Your first sediment raid! I was so proud!

Yazoo Stick Figure Caption: I've come for ye sediment!
People Caption: Ah! No! It's stream piracy!
Yazoo Other Caption: I am the evil stream pirate Yazoo Oxbow, Captain of the Rapid Meander!

You were so excited! And look at you, calling yourself "evil." You never do that anymore. Silly little boy. Oh, I miss those days of innocence.

Yazoo: I'm getting some punch.

No, wait! The next one gets really good!

Yazoo Stick Figure Caption: At last! Lots of sediment thanks to a braided stream! Argh!
Boat Caption: Captain! This braided stream is right in front of a glacier! Iceberg ahead!

There you go again, saying "Argh!"

Yazoo: Really, getting punch now.

Oh, don't be ashamed. Lots of pirates say "Argh!" Go on, say it! Just once!

Yazoo: That doesn't even look like the Rapid Meander.

They were sketches done out of boredom. You're ruining photo album time.

Yazoo: Fine by me. Lu, punch? Ow! No! The drink, punch!

Lu: Oops. Clarify next time.

There's only one more picture! Oh look, Lu, it's your first photo!

Lu Caption: I'm Alluvial Fan, the fairest in the land!

Lu: I'm wearing a WIG.

Yazoo: But you're still the fairest in the land.

Okay you two, we have guests present.

Lu: It's my party, I'll make out with my boyfriend if I want to.

Lu!

Peat: Make out! With my party!

Peat!

Yazoo: Watch this -- Hey Peat, you want to make out with who? I'll listen -- you want to do what?

Peat: Make out with you! I'll do yo--

Okay then, that ends this party. Tomorrow: Party Number Two in the ISPAW!

Eeenie, Meenie, Minie, NaNo

2009-11-01T09:03:00.000-05:00

How do you spell "minie"? Meinie? One of the great riddles of our time.

Anyhoo, today is special. You probably know why: November 1st. The beginning of the 30 days of Literary Abandon, the start to the great festival of Oh My God, Why Am I Doing This?? Right now, all you NaNoites, is probably a good time in your NaNo month. You're excited and plowing through those first 1667 words. You're loving your characters, your plot, your setting. Life is good.

Remember this feeling.

Wow, that was a little ominous. Sorry about that. Won't happen again.

Whilst I skip off to dive into my first 1667 words (Maxie finally gave me the first few sentences of Discovery! I had to coerce them out of him with lots of "All the other NaNoites will make fun of me! I'll be picked last in gym class!" and whine-crying. He caved. I love him.), I shall leave you with two things.

Firstly) Are you doing NaNo? If so, what's your NaNo novel about?

Secondly) Tomorrow shall be my 200th blog post. But this week makes me grin for one other very happy reason:

Friday, November 6th, is the 3rd birthday of Stream Pirate.

That's right, folks; three years ago from November 6th the idea for Stream Pirate came bouncing into this world, kicking and screaming and covered in awesome vernacular. How do I know it was November 6th exactly? Well, that will be revealed in due time. Because I hereby dub the week of November 2nd-November 6th:

International Stream Pirate Appreciation Week!

(I can call it international, right? Because I have some international blog readers? Hello, International Blog Readers!)

So gear up for pirate goodness, stream ridiculousness, really awful sketches done by my own hand, and prizes, prizes, prizes! We're gonna give Stream Pirate a birthday party to remember!

Pirates. Prizes. What more could you want?

PSA

2009-10-31T12:41:00.000-04:00

BusywritingpapersbusyreadingarticlesbusyMELTINGMYBRAINbusy

But I have to take a chunk of time out of my OHMYGODHOMEWORKSUCKS schedule to speak about something-- well, we'll just call it something important. It strikes only during this time of year. Halloween. All Hallow's Eve. Beggar's Night. Whatever you want to call it, October 31st is a day when a problem rears its head amongst the merrimaking and frolicking and tomfoolery. It is a problem most people aren't aware of. A problem that goes unnoticed by many, lost in the haze of candy-comas and loud haunted-house music. I am writing this blog post to draw attention to this silent killer of many, this overlooked issue, this forgotten struggle, this oppression of the helpless, this--

GET ON WITH IT!

Fine, geez.

It's--

Wait. You know what? It'd be better if I showed you. I don't think you'll fully grasp the importance of this heartwrenching issue unless you SEE it.

Behold:

So when you carve your pumpkins this year, folks, take a minute to think before you jam that knife into his dimpled orange skull. Is this really a humane way to treat your vegetables? No. No, I don't think so.

Happy Halloween, ya'll.

PS on the PSA: Google Philip Winchester. Count down 9 entries. What do you see?

Oh -- oh, you see MY BLOG?

Yeah. I come up as a top listing when you google Philip Winchester.

This makes me far too happy.

Why Hello There...

2009-10-28T22:35:00.000-04:00

So, there's this new boy in my life. He kind of makes me smile a lot, and he's really sweet and thoughtful and ohmygoshCUTE. He's been bouncing around my head for a few weeks now, but only yesterday introduced himself. He's just THAT considerate; didn't want to overwhelm me in the midst of my panicking about the Stream Pirate sequel.

Who is this new boy, you ask? Oh, I think you'll like him. His name's Max. Maxence Pate, to be precise. I haven't gotten to know too much about Maxie yet (he hates when I call him Maxie, but he's just too nice to tell me to stop), as his almost-annoying amount of consideration has prevented him from telling me how his story begins until I am no longer swamped with homework. He knows that if he told me what the first line is, I'd politely tell my archaeology homework to piss off and spend every waking moment getting to know him. Oh, Maxie, you're going to be fun. I can tell.

Anyway, Max's appearance made me make the very painful decision to shelve Rechanneled. Not forever, mind you; I fully intend to come back to it one day. But the hope that Max's story offered in other book to get giddy-excited about was too tempting to pass up. It also made me realize something I had been fighting to ignore for weeks: Rechanneled was REALLY boring.

Okay, literally, it wasn't boring. There were a lot of swordfights and night-attacks and brother-sister tension and character development and more things stream piratey, but as I was writing it, I was bored. I kept writing, thinking, Okay, the next part will be interesting. Exciting. The next scene will take off. But I'd get to the next scene, write it, be so bored my chest felt like it would implode, and end it with an exhausted sigh. This cycle left me feeling like the world's worst writer. Like I had failed somehow, that I couldn't even keep my own story interesting. Would nothing I ever wrote again be exciting for me? Had I lost my writing spark?

I LOVE the world of Stream Pirate. It will probably always be my favorite of all my worlds. But writing Rechanneled was making me dislike it. Once I realized that, and once Max came a-strolling in, I knew I had to stop. I wasn't writing Rechanneled because, like Max's story, I felt I NEEDED to write it. I was writing Rechanneled because I felt I HAD to write it. Somewhere in the deep dark caverns of my writer's mind I felt I had to finish the planned Stream Pirate trilogy NOW, before I started anything else, while Lu's voice was still fresh in my head. I felt if I didn't finish it now, I would lose the *spark* of the story and regret diverting to other projects. I felt like I would be letting Lu and Yazoo and all the other characters down, leaving their story dangling unfinished.

But then I realized -- that's completely silly. Again, Max helped me realize this (can you tell how much I love this dude?). His voice is already vibrant in my head and jabbering of its own accord. He WANTS his story to be told. Lu and Yazoo don't want the rest of their story told yet. I haven't heard a peep out of Lu since I got the general idea for a Stream Pirate trilogy. That's part of what made writing Rechanneled such a chore; Lu wasn't helping me. She wasn't yet ready to tell Rechanneled, and I was trying to force her, worried I would lose her. But in some twisted only-happens-to-a-writer way, I never even had her in Rechanneled. So I won't lose anything in shelving it for now. And I have to trust Lu that when she's ready to tell me the rest of her story, she'll come running back to the forefront of my brain, talking a million miles a minute in true Lu-like fashion and complaining about the lack of sanitation on steamboats.

But for now, it's all Max, all the time.

Isn't he a cutie?

I must leave you with something to make you chuckle whilst I melt part of my brain. I mean, whilst I read an archaeology article. Seriously, the end of the quarter CANNOT come fast enough.

Discovery

2009-10-28T14:33:00.000-04:00

The year is 2808, and all seventeen-year-old Maxence Pate wants is to save his people from genocide. But what he finds could continue a worldwide extermination that began almost a thousand years ago.

Futuristic. Historical. Adventure.

Let the past begin.

My Writing Process: En Fin

2009-10-27T23:10:00.000-04:00

Five posts until my 200th blog post! No idea what I'll be doing yet. Sad; the 100th post was all glittery and exciting and fun. By the time the 200th post rolls around, well, not so exciting anymore. Like watching your two hundredth child take his first steps. Exciting, yes, but not OHMYGODHONEYGRABTHECAMERA exciting.

How Sara Writes: A Play in Multiple Acts

ACT SIX: They All Lived Happy Forever After. Until Tomorrow.

Our protagonist, Sara, is seated before Big Red Desk. She sighs a contented sigh and stares up into the rafters.

Sara: *giggling* You know, Story, it's funny. Now that it's all said and done, the only thing I feel is an odd sense of ecstasy.

Story: *grumbles* You would. You weren't the one picked and prodded by SIX DIFFERENT PEOPLE. Including a ninja.

Sara sighs again, clearly ignoring Story's bickering.

Sara: It's an odd ecstasy, it is. All bittersweet and relieved. *looks at PC on Big Red Desk* I'll miss you, Story.

Story: I'm not dying.

Sara: I know, I know. I'll just miss all those hours we spent together. Remember that one time I almost stabbed PC because of that scene you refused to include? Haha, wow. I'm glad I can laugh about that now.

Story: If I had eyes, I would roll them.

Sara: Oh, Story. It's been a fun ride. I just-- I just want you to--

Story: What, Sara? You just want me to what?

Sara sits straight up, eyebrows furrowed and hands gripping the the armrests. She sweeps her gaze over the audience, smiles, and whips out a blank sheet of hardback paper.

Sara: Oooo this is gonna be GOOD. I can feel it. Like, REALLY good. Best. Idea. Ever.

Story: Wait! What were you saying to me? No! No! I was the best idea ever! ME! Hell-ooo, woman!

Sara: Hush now! I'll lose my focus.

Story: No! Look at me! I'm perfectly shiny now, see? Over here!

Sara: Ghosts AND mummies? Set in Constantinople? With a time machine and cookies and another nuclear holocaust? GENIUS.

Story: That's MY nuclear holocaust!

Sara scribbles on the giant piece of hardback paper while Story continues to shout at her, hoping to pull her attention away from Shiny New Idea. But it is clear by the fading lights and swelling orchestral music that Story's story is over. Over, that is, until he is thrust into the perilous publishing world, where a whole new story for Story will commence.

Story: How many times are you going to use "Story's story" arrangements?

Until it stops being fun.

Story: Loser.

Don't insult the narrator!

Story: You can't see it, but I'm sticking out my tongue.

Why I oughta...

Story: Oooo whatta ya gonna do, big scary voice in the sky?

As Sara falls more and more in love with Shiny New Idea, Story falls farther and farther away from her mind. Meanwhile Story, forgotten on PC, suffers a fatal malfunction.

Story: A fatal -- WHAT?

In a tragic course of events, Story suddenly finds himself entirely translated into Spanish.

Story: ¿Qué? ¡No! ¿Por qué, idiota? ¿Por qué?

The End. Or, for Story's benefit, en fin.

Story: Le odio.

Yeah, that about sums it up. Though I don't usually forget my old stories; they just tend to be, um, retired. My first attempt at writing anything, the Queen of Winter Trilogy. My YA romance, Blind. Both stories I love, but both stories I love enough to set aside in place of bigger, shinier ideas. Onward and upward. Always onward and upward.

PS: The super-talented Suzanne Young is having an ARC giveaway of her soon-to-be-released book The Naughty List! Buzz on over to her blog and get entering! You only have until next Wednesday. Oh, and with the ARC comes an uber-cute Naughty List t-shirt. As if we needed more reasons to enter.

Go, go!

My Writing Process: Act 5

2009-10-26T22:27:00.000-04:00

Let me tell ya; there is nothing that puts a smile on my face faster than having this song as my ring tone. (Side note: does anyone else get really nervous at 0:51, when Shang pulls Mulan's shirt out? I always think "Don't look down!! You'll find out her sekrit!")

Anyway, onward!

How Sara Writes: A Play in Multiple Acts

ACT FIVE: You Beta Believe It

Our protagonist, Sara, lies on the stage beside Big Red Desk, PC's florescent glow flickering on her clothes. By the look on her face and her posture, it is clear Story lied about her not regretting Act Four.

Sara: Can't...look...at...screen...eyes...burning...

Story: Oh, grow up. It wasn't that bad. And look how shiny I am now! It was worth it. Admit it; you love me.

Sara: *hiccups* Too...much...awakeness...

Story: Why did you hiccup?

From off stage comes the sound of giggling, talking, high and feminine. A group of about 5 women appears stage left and, upon seeing the prostrate Sara, gasps as one.

Woman 1: Oh no! We're too late!

Woman 2: If you hadn't needed to ask for directions...

Woman 1: Big Red Desk isn't on Google Maps! Not my fault.

Woman 3: Stop bickering! We've got to help her; there may still be time!

Group of women rushes forward. Two of them tend to the barely conscious Sara, who mumbles things about clown cars and pet stores and nuclear holocausts and NO, ADVERB, BEGONE! The other three women stare down at PC.

Story: Whatta ya lookin' at me for?

Woman 4: *hands on hips* Shall we, ladies?

Woman 5: *mischievous grin* We shall.

Story: Hey now, what are you doing with that red pen? You're not going to-- not on PC's screen! You wouldn't dare! No, no, I'll tell you anything! Anything! Parlay!

Woman 3: You promise to cooperate?

Story: Yes! Anything! Just-- put the pen down. That's not necessary. We're all friends here, right?

Woman 4: That's yet to be determined.

Woman 1 and 2 drag Sara off stage while Woman 3, 4, and 5 pick up PC and head off stage left.

Woman 5: *pausing at edge of stage as lights dim* Come on, Woman 6.

A muffled whisper of confusion sweeps through the audience as a shadow passes over Big Red Desk. From off stage, Story whimpers.

Story: Sara said nothing about one of you being a ninja! No! I change my mind! No parlay! Help, help, he--

Story's strangled cries disappear beneath a swelling orchestral tune full of mystery and excitement. Good things are to come for sure.

Betas rock. Period. Next to editing, betaing is my favorite part; sending my story out into the wide, wide world of fellow writers is exciting and anxious-making and so, so constructive. Good betas give advice without being cruel, give criticism in a way that makes you go "Oh! You're right!" not "Oh my god. I'm never writing again." I've been truly blessed with the group of betas I've found; they're all fantastic!

Must go before I get all gushy. Tomorrow: the conclusion of How Sara Writes: A Play in Multiple Acts.

My Writing Process: Act 4

2009-10-25T21:44:00.000-04:00

Nothing snappy to say before the post. La-di-da.

How Sara Writes: A Play In Multiple Acts

ACT FOUR: Secondly, an Edit

Our protagonist, Sara, sits cross-legged before Big Red Desk, looking thoughtfully at PC.

Sara: *cracks knuckles* Draft One, done. And I daresay it ROCKS.

Fast-forward three hours to Sara, now sitting on the floor beside Big Red Desk with PC in her lap. Her thoughtfulness has been replaced with wide-eyed, frizzle-haired shock.

Sara: Who. Wrote. THAT? Not me. No. MY story was-- good. It was brilliant. It FLOWED. That-- that just-- that was-- no. Not me. Nope. There's been some mistake. Some terrible, invasion of the story snatchers mistake. Justice must be served! There's a kidnapped story somewhere out there, lonely and cold and needing to come back home to me--

Story: *singing* Sa-a-ra

Sara: *jumps and stares even wider-eyed at PC* Y-yes? Story?

Story: Don't abandon me, Sara. I'll be a good story. I promise. I just need some help, see? I don't know how to be a good story! I can barely walk on my own two MC's. And I can't even use my story threads to eat without spilling unresolved plots all over myself! Help me, Sara? Please?

Sara: *softening* Ah. Well, when you put it like that...

Sara leans over PC and begins typing.

Story: Thank you, Sara. You won't regret it.

The orchestra strikes up an ominous, dark tune that leaves the audience wondering if what Story said wasn't as jolly and positive as it may have sounded...

Once the first draft is done, I'm always under the misguided perception that it is awesome. Then I read it, freak out, and go into a holy-crap-what-did-I-DO coma. But once that passes (and it usually passes pretty quick) editing is my favorite part of the writing process. Patching up the loose ends. Tweaking the irkes. Beating down the bumps. I'm an undiagnosed OCD-er, so editing everything is like my heaven. It's basically cleaning in an already clean atmosphere; tidying up a black-and-white Word doc. We've already established my insanity, so this should come as no shock.

My Writing Process: Act 3

2009-10-23T23:37:00.000-04:00

Still don't remember what I was going to "PS" about...that's really bugging me...

How Sara Writes: A Play in Multiple Acts

ACT THREE: Firstly, a Draft

Our protagonist, Sara, rushes in from stage right as the lights come up. In her arms is a banged-up PC laptop, heavy and large, with a pink butterfly sticker on the lid. She sits at Big Red Desk, still center-stage, and jerks open PC.

Sara: The first line came to me! Oh, it gives me chills.

*typing*

"It was a dim and tempestuous evening..."

Sara pauses. She leans back, stares at the ceiling, stares at the stage, and slumps farther back against the chair. Somewhere off stage, a clock ticks away a few seconds.

Sara: *leaning forward with renewed vigor* No, no, no. That's no good at all. Try:

"It was the grandest of moments, it was the most horrific of moments..."

Sara: *beating on the BACKSPACE key* No, no, no, NO! Gah! What are you doing to me, story? I have you all outlined, see? *holds up stupidly large piece of scribbled-on hardback paper* See? This is how you peak, and how you end, and how everyone lives happy forever after. It's all planned out! All you have to do is BEGIN!

Sara stares at PC, waiting for the first line to materialize by sheer willpower.

Sara: I bet a Mac would give me the first line.

Beginnings SUCK. Suck, suck, SUCK. No matter how overly excited I am for the middle or end of my stories, my beginnings continue to be a source of much hair-pulling and WHYAMIAWRITER-moaning. Once I get past the 20,000 word mark, I'm good (usually). But getting there is not pretty. At all. The first draft's beginning leaves a trail of tears, blood, ink, and cuss words in its wake. And this go-around with Rechanneled has left me moaning and cussing at my PC while Pippa sits beside me, her head cocked, wondering why her human is so insane.

Don't worry, Pippa. There are people much crazier than me.

That's not comforting, is it?

Oh! I remembered what the PS was supposed to be about!

PS: Kat is having a Halloween Contest over at her blog, Words etc. She's giving away one copy of one of the 5 books caught in the price-war between Walmart, Sears, and Amazon. Yeah. Thought that'd peak your interest. Especially since one of the books you can choose is Michael Crichton's Pirate Latitudes. Pirates. Michael Crichton. Awesome.

My Writing Process: Act 2

2009-10-23T00:02:00.000-04:00

Dudes -- I just realized there are only 9 posts until my 200th blog post. I must start planning something SPECTACULAR for it...hm...I will think on this. Confetti may be involved.

How Sara Writes: A Play in Multiple Acts

ACT TWO: Lining a way Out

Lights come up on our protagonist, Sara, center-stage. She is sitting at the Big Red Desk, scribbling in a notebook. Every few words, she scratches out what she wrote and begins again.

Sara: The scene with the pet store comes before the scene with the clown car, right? I mean, really, that flows so perfectly.

Sara scribbles, sits back, and taps the pencil against her chin in thought.

Sara: But after that? What comes after that?

Reaching behind Big Red Desk, Sara pulls out a giant piece of hardback paper. On the paper is a very complicated series of scrawled notes and jutting lines connecting notes to notes. Sara looks at it, smiles, and nods.

Sara: Oh, yes! It's so clear to me now. I had the clown car scene coming after the pet store scene but BEFORE the nuclear holocaust attack. Oh! That'd be a perfect time to insert some character development about my MC's hatred of face paint!

Sara drops to the stage and begins writing on the giant piece of hardback paper. She connects notes to notes, drawing more lines and circles and lines until it appears as though she is drawing top-secret alien coded messages.

Sara: *sniffling* And they all lived happy forever after. It's perfect! Now -- to write!

Sara hugs the giant piece of hardback paper and runs off stage left. Why she runs off stage is a mystery, as her Big Red Desk is clearly on the stage and if she wants to write, she would need to be at Big Red Desk. It is best not to question her, though.

I'm an outlining kind of girl. I know some people shudder at the thought, but I am one who swears by it. My little writer mind likes to create complicated, interloping story threads that leave me curled in a glazed-eyed heap if I don't chart out exactly what happens to who when. Me likes my story maps. I'd get quite lost in my own little worlds without them. And it's happened, too; search party couldn't find me for at least a day.

PS: There was something I'd been meaning to "PS" on a blog post about, but I can't remember what it was. It was important. Thus I am reserving the right to "PS" on this post should it come to me before my next post.

My Writing Process: Act 1

2009-10-21T23:06:00.000-04:00

I will now do a series on my writing process, per the suggestion of the lurvely Jade. I jumped excitedly when she mentioned it before I realized that writing about writing on a writing-themed blog should have been obvious. But I'm not an obvious kind of gal. So, anyways:

How Sara Writes: A Play in Multiple Acts
(I find myself making plays out of the most random things since reading Eyes Like Stars. Oh, I'm the only one who does that?)

ACT ONE: A Storm of the Brain

Our protagonist, Sara, enters from stage right. She approaches a Big Red Desk at center stage. She may or may not be skipping.

Sara: I have the BEST IDEA EVER. It's giggly and romancy and makes me happy inside. And there's this one scene that I see so vividly...wow. Just, wow. It's brilliant, I say. BRILLIANT.

Sara sits at Big Red Desk and scribbles furiously in a small notebook. She fills at least six pages with chicken-scratch notes before leaning back in the chair and grinning.

Sara: This will be GOOD. I can feel it. Like, Harry Potter level good. Yeah. *giggles*

Sara exits stage left, definitely skipping now.

This is how it always begins: an idea. An idea so freakishly awesome that I HAVE to write it. Usually it isn't fast; usually the idea simmers for a few weeks with me jotting random spurts of illegible notes. Eventually all those illegible notes kind of *click*, and out pops a definitive storyline that makes me squee. But it always begins with an idea and chicken-scratching. Seriously. My handwriting is the object of much verbal abuse.

And....because I'm shameless:

That's just funny.

And this one is actually pretty good:

Everyone together now: GET OFF OF YOUTUBE, SARA. Get back to writing Rechanneled. Go. Now.

Guilty Pleasure

2009-10-20T19:40:00.000-04:00

Thanks for all the awesome ideas yesterday, folks! You've got my blog-writing juices a-flowing. But before I delve into some of your suggestions, there's something I would like to share with you, because apparently I like public displays of humiliation.

Everyone has a YouTube guilty pleasure. Watching music videos, movies, vlogs, etc. Most are harmless. Most are understandable, and shared by millions.

Not mine.

My YouTube guilty pleasure is something far more -- oh, how shall I put this -- giggly. Giggly as in it makes you feel like the five-year-old princess-y (or prince-y, for you menfolk) child you once were.

Okay, I'll just say it quick: I'm addicted to watching Disney crossovers.

Wait -- what the heck is that?

Exactly. Few people have heard of it, few people admit to watching it. But alas, my writer-friends, I am one of the few who lets hours flick by while watching 4-minute-long videos of two Disney movies shmooshed into new and exciting romance stories. Jim and Ariel, Eric and Pocahontas, Belle and Phoebus, Chel and Kuzco.

Trust me, they're better than they sound. Well, some of them. And, in true Sara-like fashion, I shall post a few of my faves.

For those loyal to the original movies, these may suck. Try to watch with an open-story mind.

Story for this one: Belle is engaged to Gaston but in love with Phoebus. Her father, Frollo, wants to keep her and Phoebus apart. Chaos ensues.

Maybe it's just because the song is AWESOME. But the editing is fantastic too; xNightshadex makes the best crossovers I've found so far.

This one is a bit simpler: just a spin on Chel and Kuzco.

Jim Hawkins and Ariel are a popular crossover couple. Mainly because they're just so darn cute together. Again, a father-keeping-true-lovers-apart story.

Good luck not YouTubing "Disney crossover couples" for the next two hours.

Tuesday Teaser!

2009-10-19T21:46:00.001-04:00

No, it's not Tuesday yet; but by the time most of ya'll read this, it will be Tuesday. Planning ahead, I am.

Anyhoo, I'm again running short on blog ideas. So, I will leave you with two things: the first is a question, the second is a teaser from the Stream Pirate sequel I'm working on, Rechanneled.

The question: What do you want to hear about? What blog topics would you like to see me delve into? Any vlog ideas, even? Anything, everything, nothing is too outrageous. Give me your best, your brightest, your silliest ideas, yearning to be free...

The teaser:

“Dirt and sand, all across the land,

The currents are ours, you see.”

I knew that song. The voice sang from somewhere distant, the words curling into circles on the singer’s accent. All was darkness, still; no face with the voice, nothing but those words twisting around my mind, creating a whirlwind of memory that I couldn’t catch.

“No man, no soldier, no officer, no king

Can take my current from me.”

Tom. Tom used to sing that song to me, telling me he’d heard it as a boy. Stream pirates sang that song. Yazoo had never sung this song, nor Ikkin, nor any of his crew. I wanted to know why, I knew why, but all was darkness, still.

“Flow on, my brothers, flow on with me,

Together we flow as one.

No man, no soldier, no officer, no king,

Can erode what we have done.”

Now I shall bid you all goodnight. The retail industry likes to torture its employees with 6 AM inventories. Which means I have to be up at 5 AM. When I set my alarm for 5 AM, my phone went "You want to get up WHEN?? Recheck your time, and ask me again later."

Trailers and Philip Winchester

2009-10-18T16:00:00.000-04:00

I failed in an epic way today. Not just today, actually.

Since MAY.

Since May 5th, to be exact. That was the day Crusoe came out on DVD. And I missed it.

I could've been watching Philip Winchester whenever I wanted since MAY. May. 6 months. SIX. I've been suffering Crusoe-withdrawals for no reason. Needless to say, I promptly Amazoned it and in just a few short business days, Philip will be mine all mine.

On the subject of Philip Winchester, I thought it was about time I posted some more trailers. Because movie trailers are the whipped cream on the hot chocolate of life, and I really don't want to do homework right now.

The first trailer I have for you involves the ever-yummy Philip.

Yeah, I know. It kind of sucks. But did you see how many scenes Philip is sans-shirt? I didn't even realize there was a plot until I watched it twice. Who needs a plot with abs like that?

It's getting a little hot in here. Moving on.

Now for a trailer that looks so awesome, so indescribable, so mind-bogglingly AMAZING that I squeal like a lovesick fangirl every time I watch it.

Just take a moment and let the magnitude of this movie sink in. Johnny Depp, Jude Law, Colin Farrell, AND Heath Ledger. Me thinks the movie screen will explode with awesome. And the fact that we get to see Heath one last time -- that alone makes me teary. God, he's amazing.

The next trailer is one I somehow forgot to post last trailer go-around. Dara over at inthewritemind reminded me of it, and I've been bouncing excitedly to show you all ever since.

In case you don't know this about me, I'm a huge history buff. I realized today that most of my big stories involve some part of history: pirates, Tudor England, a newly developed age of discovery idea. It's obvious then that I am in love with this movie. As if they needed to convince me to watch it even more, PAUL BETTANY is in it. Paul. Bettany. Swoon.

I'm on the fence with this next one. On the one hand, it looks great visually. On the other -- I don't know. Maybe it's because I was never much into the series.

Yes? No? Like I said, I'm on the fence.

The last trailer I shall leave you with looks absolutely terrifying. There's a boat freakin' load of post-apoc movies coming out, but this one stands above them in that it's gruesome, gory, and downright scary. In a way, it seems the most likely of all the post-apoc scenarios.

And -- Viggo! I've missed you. What have you been doing since LOTR? I thought you pulled a Jeff Goldblum and vanished into movie oblivion.

On a Serious Note, Take Two

2009-10-16T13:01:00.000-04:00

I've been thinking about this for awhile. A long while. Every time I go into a bookstore, every time someone references the upcoming New Moon release, every time I see someone reading a "trigger book." I haven't done this post, though, for a lot of reasons, mainly because I wasn't sure how I'd go about it and a part of me didn't want to delve into this issue again. But Natalie, super-awesome Natalie, did a post about it, and if she can talk about it so openly, I can too.

Twilight started a dangerous trend. It's more of a cliche now really: the weak and socially awkward girl outcast falls for the outrageously attractive and mysteriously dark boy who is almost inhumanly perfect. I joke about it in my book reviews, yes. But it's one of those joke-about-it-so-you-don't-scream scenarios. Here, I will scream. Er, not scream-scream, but you get the idea.

I (surprise surprise) was a weak and socially awkward girl outcast who read and wrote about life where other people "really" lived. People used to laugh because most of my pieces of advice started with "I read it in a book once...". Books shaped every part of everything I did when I was a teenager, painfully shy and uncertain and so, so breakable. If I read a story about a girl like me who blossomed by doing XYZ, I DID XYZ in hope of blossoming too. And if I'd read a story about a girl who found "true love" by sticking in a relationship with someone who "only wanted the best" for her, someone who forced her to change who she was, someone who TOLD her what was wrong with her and refused to be with her unless she conformed to his demands, I would still be pining after my exes. Though other people may have told me that what my exes did was wrong, because a book told me first that it was right, I wouldn't have heard them.

Without naming titles, I've seen the Twilight-like glorification of emotional abuse coming up again and again and again in books. And it is sickening. Spinning the controlling, obsessive, cruel actions of an emotional abuser until they're something that makes girls swoon is an epidemic as far from the awesome kind as you can get. The authors don't do it intentionally, of course; but that doesn't make it okay. In most cases, the authors' intent was to show that the shy girl CAN find true love too. An admirable goal, yes. But the execution of said goal has become more detrimental than ever intended.

In the people I meet in my day-to-day happenings (school, work, home, etc), I run into a lot of people. A nice mixed variety, mostly of my age and below, and mostly female. Being female, the issue of boys will invariably come up. It used to be that these conversations were filled with All-boys-are-stupid, I-can't-wait-to-find-the-one-who-ISN'T. Now, though, they're filled with half-hearted smiles. Shrugs. "Yeah, I have a boyfriend. He's great. I love him," said with as much excitement as though she was talking about homework. The girls I meet now are falling into relationships that they WON'T get out of. Not that they can't. They simply won't. The glorification of "love" being a controlling, manipulative, toxic spiral has made girls believe that that is it. The dead-end relationship they're in is it. They're "in love." That's enough.

I know books alone aren't to blame for this. But I don't think the rise in popularity of Twilight-love-themed books and the corresponding rise of teenage girls thinking that that IS love is entirely coincedental. Now, I haven't done any kind of scientific study to see how many girls countrywide are in relationships of the emotionally abusive kind. I just know that the girls around me went from powerful, strongwilled young women who WANTED more of their lives to "Eh. My boyfriend loves me. He doesn't have a job. He's not going to college. But he loves me. That's enough."

One of the most frustrating things in all of this is not being able to argue with them. I try to tell them that that ISN'T love, but then they ask the obvious question. "Well then, what is?" I try to explain. I give examples -- but all my examples are at least two generations removed from theirs. I don't have one single example of a healthy, functional relationship in the 20-and-below category. When they realize that, the girls shrug, roll their eyes, and go back to their boyfriends. They give up.

Watching everyone around me find boyfriends and "happiness" while I sit off to the side, spouting promises that love is supposed to be better than that, has made me want to give up too. And then another book comes out saying "This is love. Look for THIS to make you happy." And I tell the book, "No, you're wrong! I had that, I had that THREE separate times, and it still kills me." But I'm running out of arguements. There are only a handful of girls I know who still believe love is supposed to be something more than an Edward-like spiral. The rest are smiling. It's a losing battle to tell someone who thinks they're happy that they aren't, especially when you yourself aren't happy and you're trying to convince them to be like you. And especially when another author writes another book about the weak, inept 16-year-old who falls in love because she stuck it out with the guy who berated her, changed her, and manipulated her.

I won't settle for an Edward. I've been down that road enough to know that Edwards are never really capable of loving anyone as much as they love themselves. But not settling has become the fight of my generation. Fighting for something you REALLY want is looked at with an eyeroll, a snort of derision. It's hard. It sucks. Most days leave me wanting to scream because everyone around me is "happy" while I'm still promising them that I'll someday be happier.

What makes it harder are books like Twilight. Books that glorify the insanity.

What makes it easier are the few books like Shiver. Books that say "This is how it should be. Warm. Safe. It should make you BEAUTIFUL. And it should be worth fighting for."