Jun 19, 2014
An interesting fact about me is that I know how to read tarot cards. :)
I can count to ten in Romanian
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from France
seen from Malaysia
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from China
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from Australia
seen from United States
seen from China
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from China
seen from China
seen from United States
seen from United States
An interesting fact about me is that I know how to read tarot cards. :)
I can count to ten in Romanian
“Jori!” I screamed. The instant I twisted around to face her, a force threw me in the opposite direction. BA-BOOM BA-BOOM BA-BOOM BA-BOOM. The only sound making it’s way to my ears was the rapid beating of my own heart and the rushing of my blood. White-hot pain struck my left side and spread swift and intense as a wildfire. Searing pain spreading instantaneously through my entire torso, accompanied by an incredible pressure on my lungs halting their functionality. Tumbling down the steep hill I couldn’t catch a breath. It was impossible to tell which direction I was facing even after I had stopped pulling up dirt and rocks with my face. If I was lying still I couldn’t tell; the entire world spun around me faster than any carnival ride I had been on. Then it went dark.
If any of you guys could please read this and comment, or reblog this to let me know what you think. I need some critiques.
It's my newest rough draft to the first chapter in the first novel in my series. Only the first couple paragraphs though, so it's not a very long read. I'm just hoping it's interesting and that you can see a bit about who the character is. Critique away!
Do you have any advice for aspiring authors in high school?
Hmm. I donno. haha. I haven’t gotten anything published quite yet.
See, my problem is that I spend a whole lot of time writing character sketches, mini scenes, outlines, etc, but not really chapters. And the furthest I’ve gotten is four chapters but I might scrap them again like I do most of my chapters. I feel like I can’t exactly write the novel until I have it all planned out. (But that’s my style- other people write and are surprised at what they come up with- I make my characters and they surprise me, but I don’t want to write the novel until the chapters are planned out.) If that makes any sense.
My advice to you would be to find your style. Are you character driven or plot driven? (Both are important.) Do you want to plan everything first, or write and see where you end up?
Almost every advice I’ve found says to write every day. Every day. Even if it’s just a page. (It helps to write at the same time usually so you don’t forget and so you get into a routine. That way you get into the habit of writing.)
Read. Whatever genre you want to write, read a shit ton of it. I’m twenty one years old and most of my friends find YA novels to be kiddish, but I like to write them so reading them drives me.
Research- but not too much. Know your subject, but don’t spend all your time researching instead of writing.
Study. I’m not going to school for writing, instead I’m teaching myself. I have books on Character, Plot, Theme, etc. Currently I’m reading The Power of the Darkside: Creating Great Villians, Dangerous Situations, and Dramatic Conflict by Pamela Jaye Smith. I like it because it’s what I need work on. I just finished one about Plot that was really good but I can’t think of it’s title now and don’t have it on me (message me in a week and I’ll probably have it on me then). Basically, study. Read books on writing. Read books that cover topics you might be lacking, but also topics you think you’ve got in the bag, because you might learn something new.
Carry a notebook with you. If you’re like me you’ll be getting inspiration everywhere and anywhere you go, and it’s easier (and more organized) to have a notebook on hand rather than grabbing the nearest napkin or receipt (which is totally okay- my wallet if full of small scraps of ideas).
WRITE FOR YOU! Don’t write because you want to make money or because you want to impress someone or become famous. Write something that means a lot to you. Write a story you love. A story that is yours and that you consider your baby- nurture your story until it’s matured enough to fly the nest. Write that story in your mind that’s been itching to come out. PAY NO ATTENTION to whether or not you think people will like your story. Do you like your story? Great. Write it. (One of my stories is a five part series about adolescent spies. Sometimes I feel like the people I tell my story to think it’s kinda stupid, but I love it and I’ve also gotten lots of positive feedback about it being interesting.)
(This bullet point applies to the one above) Kurt Vonnegut has this 8 Basics of Creative Writing and one of them says, “Write to please just one person. If you open a window and make love to the world, so to speak, your story will get pneumonia.”
Break the rules. Break the expectations. Rules that authors give are guidelines. Understand them. Know why they’re in place. Mess with them. Play with them. Test your limits. Know why you should follow them, and experiment with leaving the path.
When I say break the rules I also mean the norms. A lot of YA novels have a love triangle going on. You don’t need that. You can have it if you want. But you don’t need it. It’s not a requirement. You know where I’m getting at?
I guess I have a lot of advice. I could probably go on forever. But you get the point. :D
Tomorrow I'm going to change my theme and put a pretty playlist and finally do Ashley's tag!! I'm sorry for taking ages to do it :(
Chapter Two - Zack
“I donno man. You think we did the right thing?” I ran my hand through my hair. I had that sinking feeling in my gut that things weren’t okay, and I needed my best friend to tell me otherwise.
Kenny laughed, “Zack! You were the one feeling heroic over this just hours ago. What happened to your confidence?”
“I donno. Second thoughts. What if we did something wrong?”
“What if we did something wrong? Of course we did something wrong. But we did it for the right reasons didn’t we? So what’s wrong there?”
“You’re convincing me I made a mistake.”
“Okay, okay.” His smile dropped and Kenny looked me in the eye, suddenly serious. “Look, I didn’t want to do this. I told you guys it was a bad idea. Not because she’d be better off there, but because I didn’t want her here.”
I remembered yesterday when Kenny and I were watching the conference meeting with the others. Everyone was excited about the possibility of another person on our team, except for Kenny. He had never been too keen on outsiders anyway, and Jori would definitely be just that. No one really listened to Kenny’s opposition.
But maybe we should have.
“But my reasoning wasn’t even on the same issue as yours,” he continued, “you guys were concerned with reuniting mother and daughter. There’s nothing wrong with that.”
I sighed and fell backwards onto my pillow. He was right.
“Besides,” Kenny continued, “there’s nothing we can do about it anymore. What’s done is done.”
What’s done is done. There was no turning back. We could have just ruined the life of a girl. It’s not like we asked her if she wanted to come to Hanson. But what if we didn’t ruin her life? What if we saved it? We could have just improved this girl’s life in a way none of us would know until it played out? For good or bad, the ball was rolling and all we could do from that point on was sit and watch.
Unless it wasn’t all we could do.
“I’m going to do everything in my power to make sure things go according to plan,” I blurted out loud.
Kenny raised an eyebrow. “According to plan? Zack. This isn’t one of our assigned jobs.”
“I know that, but that doesn’t mean I can’t work on it. Think about it. She’s gonna need a friend right? She’s our age and she doesn’t know anyone here. I could be there for her to help her transition.”
“Transition to her imprisonment?”
“She’s not prisoner. I’m sure she could leave if she wanted. But that’s where I come in. I’ll make sure she doesn’t want to leave. I can do this.”
“Well I’m glad you can because I’m not going to.” Kenny leaned back on the floor with his hands behind his head and closed his eyes. I did the same. Kenny was done talking. Our conversation was over. Besides, I needed to be alone with my thoughts. Moments before I was anxious and worried. My decision to be a friend made me hopeful and excited. I couldn’t wait to meet her and get started.
***
“Zack? Kenny?” My mom poked her head into the room. She didn’t look as hopeful as I felt and that made me nervous. I knew she had just gotten off the phone with Jori’s mom.
“Yeah?” I offered.
“I’m going to go over to Karla’s. Jori’s locked herself in her room and won’t come out.” Kenny stifled a laugh but my mom didn’t hear and continued to speak. “She asked me to come over. She needs some help.”
“Okay mom. Do you need us to come too?”
“Well that’s why I came in here. I’m not so sure I’ll be able to do much good as an adult. Maybe she might warm up better to someone her own age.”
Kenny put his hands up in the air, “Sorry, but count me out. I didn’t want her here in the first place. I can dog sit though. I’m sure Jupiter would love to go on a run.”
“I’ll come mom,” I said, “I wanted to meet her anyway.” Kenny looked over and smiled, rooting me on. He probably thought I was an idiot, but as my best friend he chose to stand behind my stupid ideas anyway.
“Okay Zack, and Kenny, I’m sure Jupiter would love going on a run with you.” She spoke softly. It was like speaking for her was painful. I could only imagine she’d feel the same doubts I was feeling earlier. My mom and I were very close and sometimes acted like the same person. It’s not very hard to imagine why: for a long time we were all each other had.
“I’ll wait in the car for you,” and with that, she was gone.
Kenny looked at me with curiosity in his eyes. He didn’t understand her like I did, but he understood me like she did and a small smile and a shrug on my behalf answered all he needed to know.
***
“Oh! Thank goodness you came!” Karla rushed out and grabbed my mom into a hug. “She’s been locked in her room all day and won’t listen to anything I say to coax her out.”
My mom chuckled. “Welcome to the teenage years.”
“Hey! What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Oh nothing,” she winked at me. “Karla, I brought Zack along figuring Jori would want to talk to someone her own age. He’s very good with getting on people’s good sides. I figured you and I could have a chat in the living room.”
“Anything that will get her to talk to me.” She looked over to me then, “Zack, thank you so much for coming down. I know you probably have other things to do and I just appreciate this so much.”
“Don’t worry,” I smiled, “I don’t mind at all.”
With that Karla and my mom turned and went inside. When I followed them in Karla gestured to the door to my left. “She’s in there,” she said solemnly.
“Are there any alternate ways of entry?”
“There’s a bathroom attached to the bedroom. The window slides open.”
“I’ll see what I can do.” I smiled at her and tried to convey confidence. Not like it would be that hard breaking into her bedroom. It was just the moral aspects that stopped me. Then again, it was probably morally wrong of me to help kidnap this girl in the first place.
“Nothing you can do about it now, Zack,” I say to myself in what was supposed to be an assuring thought.
The window was a bit jammed, but not hard to open. It was short and didn’t leave a lot of room for me to fit, but it would be enough. I’d been through tighter spaces earlier in the same week. I lifted the window carefully as to not make much of a sound and looked in. The light was off but it was sunny enough outside that I could see where the fixtures were. There was a bathtub shower combo on my right side and a toilet seat directly beneath me. Luckily for me, the sink and mirror were next to the toilet and I was able to spare myself the visual of my challenge. I’m sure it wouldn’t have looked too pleasant from the outside either.
The only obstacle I could see was that the window was placed at about neck level and I would need something to stand on in order to wiggle myself in. I used a patio chair as last resort, feeling like a child again having to stand on a chair to reach the kitchen counter. Once I got my chest and arms through the window I realized it might have been easier to get in feet first. I had nowhere to crawl onto and had no choice but to slide myself in and hope for the best.
The best isn’t what happened.
What happened was me crash landing on the toilet seat, which was thankfully closed, and catching my pants on the windowsill. Upon freeing myself I jerked my leg down and bashed my knee into the back cover creating a booming clatter as I toppled down onto a soft, pink rug.
Breaking in was never my strong suit.
The door burst open and standing before me I saw Jori for the first time. Her face was red and puffy with tear stained cheeks. Her hair was a soft brown color that looked as angry as her eyes did, with frizzy curls springing out in all directions.
I didn’t know what to say. Lucky for me, I didn’t have to.
“What are you doing here!? Go away! I thought this was a closet! I don’t even have a damn closet here! Why are you in my bathroom? Leave! Now!”
“Um, I…”
“Now!” She started advancing toward me, but before she could so much as lift her fists I had her pinned against the open door. It seemed to put her in shock considering the way her jaw dropped before her eyes widened and tears began spilling over her face like a fountain. She shook in my hands with sobs and became dead weight as she dropped to the floor.
I sank down with her. This whole being her friend thing wasn’t starting off where I had pictured it.
“My name’s Zack,” I said in the softest voice I could muster. Not soft as if I were talking to a cute little puppy, but soft as if I were talking an angry wolf out of ripping my jugular open. “Hey, c’mon, don’t cry.”
“Why not? I’m stuck here in this stupid house with my psycho mother and I don’t even have anything decent to wear when suddenly a stranger shows up in my bathroom. What about that is okay?” As she wined her mouth formed something similar to a tragedy mask, with a line of spit hanging down from her top lip to the bottom one like stringy cheese on a slice of pizza.
“C’mon, let’s get you over to the bed.” I tried to help her up, but she pushed me away and walked slowly to the bed before collapsing into her pillow and crying some more. I was never very good at comforting girls when they cried so I did my best to cheer her up by putting my hand on her back.
After several minutes she stopped and wiped her nose with her arm. “Who even are you? What if I was naked when you snuck in here?”
“I’m Zack,” I said.
“You said that already, Zack, but who are you?” She still had tears she was fighting back, but I could see her shoulders straighten up as she tried to assert herself.
“I’m, well, I’m…” What was I supposed to say? That the mother who she hated told me to break in? That I was here to convince her we were right in taking her away from the only home she had ever known? What if we weren’t? All my anxieties from earlier came pouring back and I fumbled around my brain for something intelligent to say. “I’m Zack.”
“You’re useless is what you are.”
“I’m here to make you feel better,” I said in a rush, trying to cover myself as if speaking faster this time would mask my dumb response just before. “I’m your friend.”
“You’re no more my friend that that woman out there is my mother.” Jori gestured to the door, which she had rammed the bed into. Karla could have easily gotten through that. She must have avoided it out of privacy.
“But Jori, that is your mother. And I would like to be your friend.”
“How do you know my name? Are you on her side? You are aren’t you! Why else would you be in her house?” Jori’s voice rose the angrier she got. Her brows knit together and her shoulders hunched up as all the muscles in her arm tightened. “Let me tell you something, Zack, that lunatic out there left me and my daddy when I was a baby. She took everything my father had and left him with nothing but me.” She was in full on rage at this point, not a hint of a tear in her eyes, and I had convinced myself I would see flames if I looked hard enough. Her gaze bore into me like a diamond drill bit through aluminum. “She didn’t want me then, so why the fuck does she want me now?” Her sentence was as bitter as it was final. What was I supposed to say to that? That she was wrong? Like that would make an ounce of a difference.
“You’re wrong.” I had nothing else to say.
“I’m wrong? Then, please, enlighten me Zack. Tell me the error of my thinking.” Her voice was acid.
“Well for starters, uh, your dad was the one who kidnapped you.”
She raised an eyebrow. “Then why am I here and not at his house right now?”
“Well, that’s just it. Your mom wanted you back. You had been taken from her when you were a baby. She didn’t give you up.”
“And I suppose she told you that?” She almost giggled. This tactic wasn’t working. It was time to change my game up a bit. But how? On the field I usually send in another agent, usually as backup, so they can attest that what I’m saying is true. I can’t send anyone in now. He wouldn’t listen to her or my mom and Kenny wasn’t here with me.
I ran my fingers though my hair and contemplated pulling a tuff out.
“You’re mom is a spy.” I was desperate for anything that might work. If easing her into it wasn’t doing anything, maybe dumping the hard facts would.
She chuckled. “Yeah, okay.”
“So is my mom. So am I. How do you think I got in here anyway?”
“You did a poor job of staying undercover. It sounded like a pack of wild animals in there.”
I kind of laughed a bit. “Well, breaking in isn’t my strong suit. It’s your mom’s.”
Jori’s humor disappeared. She knew her mom was good at breaking in. We took her from her room last night and she didn’t wake up at all until she was already here. Granted, it had been my mom’s gift of knowing the human body and all it’s pressure points.
“You dad is a criminal Jori. He’s a bad guy. He stole you from your mom when you were a baby and made himself impossible to find.” She was quite and listened to me seemingly patiently, which scared me thinking it was just the calm before the storm. I hadn’t known her for that long, but I already felt like I knew her pretty well. I continued. “Ever since he took you your mom’s been searching everywhere. My mom’s been helping her. My entire life I’d heard stories of the long lost little girl living a life without ever knowing anything was wrong. You were like a fairy tale to me Jori. A sad story that now-“
“I am not your story. I am no one’s story. This is my life. Mine and only mine.” Her voice was tense. She was calm but her tone had spikes in it. “I don’t want to be your pity case. I want to go home to the father who raised me: the father who loves me and supports me and protects me. That is my life. Not this. None of this is mine.”
When my team goes on missions it’s my job to look over the situation and to direct each of my teammates to the job they’re best suited for. It’s Kenny’s job to read people and to sweet talk them into submission or misdirection. I’m not nearly as good at it all as he is, but I’ve been around him enough that, at fleeting times, I catch a glimpse into what drives a person to take one action or another. I knew exactly what I could do to get the ball back in my court.
“Why don’t we take a trip to the agency then? I could walk right out of here and demand we head over there right now. If I could prove that your mom and I are exactly who I’ve told you we are, would you also believe that your dad is the person I told you he is?”
She thought about it. I could see it all very clearly. She was afraid. What if we were right? Where would that leave her? What would change for her? More than any of that though, she was afraid of not knowing. She may have been holding an extraordinary grudge on her mom, but she still wanted answers. Anyone would. Hell, it’d been ten years since my dad had been out of my life and I still wanted answers.
I was a person who thinks and feels emotionally, and no matter how tough some people think they are, there’s usually a small hook somewhere that’ll get them right in the heart. The trick sometimes, was just finding out where their heart lies.
My name's Ashley Logan and this is a catalogue of the rawest first drafts of these chapters. You're seeing them first here, but it won't be the last you're going to see them. Next time they'll be written between two hard covers of a book.
Okay you guys. Many of you know I'm working on a set of novels. Well. I've decided to write the entire book BEFORE editing anything.
I wanted to share with you the raw first draft versions of my first novel, because, well, I'm really grateful for all you followers and wanted to share my journey with all of you.
So here's a blog I've created so I can do just that!
I'll post the chapters as I finish them and make a new page for each so you don't have to scroll through the archive to find the starting point.
The ask to this blog is open for any feedback if you feel so inclined.
Enjoy!
13-34 (p.s. Thanks for asking me questions. I forgot I had reblogged this post and these questions distracted me for a bit. I appreciate it.)
13. Can you read on the bus?
Yes. I’ve never really had the whole “not being able to read because I’m in a moving vehicle” problem. (I had an hour long drive to school when I was a kid and we always took road trips that were at least six hours long. I kinda had no choice)
14. Favorite place to read?
My bed.
15. What is your policy on book lending?
As long as you’re promise to return it, unharmed (because then I’d have to murder you)
16. Do you ever dog-ear books?
No. Never.
17. Do you ever write in the margins of your books?
Rarely. I only really write in cookbooks, and I don’t know if that counts
18. Not even with text books?
Text books, man. Let me tell you about text books.
19. What is your favourite language to read in?
English. Because usually I can actually understand what I’m reading.
20. What makes you love a book?
I like books that make me feel something. Usually they make me feel happy, like I can’t stop grinning. But I know I love a book when I go back to it again. Rereading a book is like declaring my love for it.
21. What will inspire you to recommend a book?
If I love it, I’m probably gonna recommend it.
22. Favorite genre?
I don’t know! *runs away*
*comes back* Probably magic realism. But I like books in lots of genres, so, don’t ask me this question. :)
23. Genre you rarely read (but wish you did)?
Steam punk. I love the concept, but I’ve just never read much of it.
24. Favourite biography?
When I was younger, I read Five Pages A Day by Peg Kehret. I would say it helped me down my path of becoming a writer.
25. Have you ever read a self-help book?
I think I started one one time.
26. Favourite cookbook?
Vegan Cupcakes Take Over The World by Isa Chandra Moskowitz and Terry Hope Romero. It’s my bible.
27. Most inspirational book you’ve read this year (fiction or non-fiction)?
Valiant by Holly Black. Not because it inspired to, like, go out and be a better person, but because the creatures she came up with and the vivid descriptions set my mind alight and now I’m constantly doodling people with animalistic features and branches for arms.
28. Favorite reading snack?
Cereal.
29. Name a case in which hype ruined your reading experience.
I would say The Fault in Our Stars. Like, it was okay, but I thought I would love it completely and totally, and instead I was like, okay, I’ve read this, and I enjoyed it. I’m probably never gonna read it again.
30. How often do you agree with critics about a book?
I don’t really pay attention to what critics say. Their opinions don’t (or very rarely) affect my opinions on what I’m reading.
31. How do you feel about giving bad/negative reviews?
Depends on who and how I’m giving them. If I’m talking to my sister about a book I hated, I have no problem ripping it to shreds. If I’m talking to someone who liked it or recommended it to me, I’m more likely to be gentler. Also, if I didn’t detest the book, I’m probably gonna be nicer.
32. If you could read in a foreign language, which language would you chose?
Either Italian or Arabic. They both seem really beautiful.
33. Most intimidating book you’ve ever read?
I read It by Stephen King in fifth grade. That was hard. Les Mis was also pretty intimidating.
34. Most intimidating book you’re too nervous to begin?
Most of Jane Austen books. I was raised into a family of Austenites, so I feel like I should have read them by now, but the language and the writing just makes me nervous.
(p.s. no prob, and thanks for your questions. good luck with all your mouse-related issues!)