Breathe. Accept this moment as it is

Life can be stressful. Take a moment. Breathe. Feel through this moment.

I made this video at my old university before I left. There was a wonderful spot where you could sit on a rock by the water and watch the world go by. You could feel part of the world or separate. It was a beautiful spot and a peaceful place for me to get away from the "go-go-go" mindset of campus life.

Story Tag: Part 4

Welcome back!

Since it took a little while for Part 4 to come out, I've written more than I did previously.
If you're just tuning in, Inna Jong Key and I are passing a story back and forth. We've got no plans for it. We haven't talked about what will happen. It's all spontaneous.
Check out her blog for part 1 and part 3. Check out my blog for part 2.

Without further ado, here is the next scene:

Part 4

My head aches as Carla manhandles me out of the car. The storm has died a bit, enough that the rain drums with less enthusiasm and I’m only mildly dampened. The driver says something with concern but she snaps at him and continues shoving me out. My eyes feel gritty and dry as I blink open to an apartment complex. I frown as I try to remember why it is familiar. The fake terracotta roofs and open porches are meant to mimic some Asian-European hodge podge of design. It’s only after Carla marches me to number seventy-six that it hits me.

Carla rings the doorbell and moments later, Anthony opens the door. I rub my head and squint. A million questions are buzzing through my mind; the most prominent one being: why are we here? We used to be good friends with Anthony when we were all in middle school band, but I quit in high school and Carla switched to orchestra. Anthony was the only one dedicated enough to stick with his trumpet. After that we grew apart and only said a passing hello in the hallway.

“Let us in,” Carla says nearly pushing Anthony out of the way. “We can’t stay out here.”

He blinks but nods and steps aside. Is this as strange to him as to me or does he know something?

The apartment is just how I remember it from middle school. The entryway is still crowded with shoes thrown every which way. The hallway light is flickering as if on its last leg and the smell of fast food is a greasy cloud over everything.

Anthony shuts the door and then yells down the hall. “Ma, I’ve got some friends over. I’m going to my room.”

“Keep it down,” his mother replies and I can make out the Jeopardy music from the living room where she’s probably been sitting for the past seven hours.

Anthony just leads us up the cramped stairway and into his room. He shoves aside a stack of books and throws a pile of laundry off the bed and into his closet. His room is nearly the same as well, but you can see the differences. The posters of Pokemon and action figures are replaced with some of his favorite composers and the Periodic Table. While the Star Wars bed covers are the same, the boy that sits down on them is not. His dirty blonde hair is longer and falls into his eyes. He’s taller too, but it’s more than that. He looks older in his eyes. The careless trumpet player running around in confusion is now a serious, intelligent young man and he let us in without a hint of protest.

As much as I want to sit on the bed like old times, I pick out a mostly clean spot on the floor and rub my head. I don’t remember much about the car ride over. Had I passed out? I glance at Carla but she is tight-lipped and tapping away on her phone.

“Why are we here?” I ask.

She waves her hand distractedly. “We needed to go somewhere no one would expect to find us.”

“Gee thanks, Carla.” Anthony rolls his eyes and it’s almost like old times. “I’m right here.” He looks from her to me. “Care to explain why you don’t want anyone to find you. I mean, I think I’m obligated to know, especially since you’re camping out in my room.”

Her dark eyes flash and she lowers her phone. “You don’t want to know, Anthony. The less you know, the safer you’ll be.”

He shakes his head. “And that doesn’t sound like every movie plot ever.” He turns to me as if hoping for a straight answer when I’m in the dark too. “Come on, Lizzie. What’s going on here?”

I clench my knees to keep from shaking. “I don’t know. There was someone in the house, I think. It was dark and the storm...I’m not sure.”

“Shouldn’t we call the police?” Anthony says. “Do you have your phone on you?”

I pat my pockets and realize that I don’t. How did that happen? Did I drop it? I always have my phone on me. It is either in my pocket or my hand and I should have noticed the weight difference.

“Carla,” I say. “Let me use your phone. I’ll call the police and Mom and Dad.”

She just stands there with a lockjaw expression. “No, we’re not calling anybody.”

“Then who have you been texting,” I snap. “You took me halfway across town, barged into Anthony’s home and you won’t say anything about what happened!”

“I’ve got to use the bathroom,” Carla says. She opens the door and closes it with a bang.

Book Review: October

I suppose it's strange to like an author for words that are not their own, but wait (that sounds like plagiarism), I mean to say that I have an appreciation for well placed prose.

Cassandra Clare is the author of The Mortal Instruments series as well as countless others. I only mention TMI because that was the start of the shadowhunters. In truth, I read Clockwork Angel before I ever read City of Bones and in more honesty, I prefer it. My preference does have to do with the fact that the book is set in Victorian England and I'm a fan of the time period, but I prefer the characters as well. 

First of all, the book opens with the Thames River Song by Elka Cloke. I really enjoyed reading that and I think it sets the tone for the book.

Secondly, there is a prologue. Some people may tell you that a prologue is a bad idea. A prologue is a technique that writers used in the past, but for modern writing it is a crude way to introduce something. Well, I disagree. When you deny the use of something, you stifle your creativity. The more rules are placed upon you, the more likely you are to be confined until you can't even imagine what is outside the box. So there.

I want to say I bought this in Target, but I'm not sure.
My memory of getting this is fuzzy and I'm not
exactly sure how I found out about the series, considering
I'd never heard about The Mortal Instruments and the first book
in that series came out before this one.

Immediately, readers are introduced to Will and Jem. They are parabatai meaning that they are hunting partners and as close as brothers. They're both nephilim (a little angel blood mixed in with human) and charged with the duty of hunting demons to protect the world.

Next, we meet Tessa. She is an American. She is traveling to see her brother and she is all alone in the world. Also, she loves reading. I really like her inner strength. She knows what heroines in books do, and she's not above trying stuff, but she also knows her limits and has such a factual mind. She is an absolutely wonderful character to follow as well as our "in" to the shadow world. 

Begin Chapter 1, I mentioned that I like well placed prose. Above each chapter is a chapter title and a quote from some past writer. We've got William Ernest Henley, Lord Byron, Robert Browning, Horace, Christina Rossetti, and many others. The little quotes add some fun and a breather from the writing. I also enjoy the references in the story itself. Tessa absolutely adores Wilkie Collins, "Have you read the Moonstone?" she asks. At the time, I had not, but per her suggestion I picked it up. So you see, if a writer can write well enough to inspire you to seek out other books on your own, then I consider it a success. 

Strange things are happening in London. Bodies and missing people and just an inherent wrongness that the shadowhunters feel a duty to intervene. While Will investigates the Pandemonium club, a group for Downworlders (those that aren't fully human or not human at all), Tessa begins to learn about herself and her family. She might not be as human as she believes herself to be - not when she has the power to become whoever she wants by holding something that belongs to them.

And who is the magister? Leader of these darker paths and the antagonist bent on bringing down the nephilim. 

This book is a mystery, adventure, romance, YA story that jumps off the page. 

Story Tag: Part 2

Welcome!

I am working with my friend Inna Jong Key to do some story writing. Where will this go? No one knows. She graciously began the story and I've taken it up. No plan. No collusion. We're working independently to see just what our two minds can do.

If you're looking for part 1, check out:
https://innajk.wordpress.com/2019/10/04/story-tag-part-1/

And without further ado, here is part two:

Nothing. Nothing behind me. Just shadows and the couch sit there and I shiver involuntarily. The rumble of thunder shakes the house and I crouch down to the floor. It feels safer to press myself flat and I close my eyes, counting under my breath. Light flashes against my eyelids and another crack of thunder shakes the foundations. It seems as if the storm is finally overhead and it’s ready to burst.

I peel myself off the floor. No need for Carla to see me plastered to it with fear. Once I stand, I examine the picture again. My eyes narrow. How is it possible that the figure is gone? Did I imagine it? I search the frame again but nothing is out of place. 

Another shiver steals over me and I hurry to the couch, drawing a blanket around me. I can’t help feel as if something watches me, but from where? I scan the room and clench my teeth together. Maybe I should call out for Carla. Surely if she comes down, whatever is haunting me will go away.

I’m about to shout her name when something clamps over my mouth and I’m pulled to the ground. We land without a thump and I feel the warmth of someone behind me. Fear freezes me and I realize I’m holding my breath.

A shadow passes by and I look up to see someone standing in front of the pictures. They stare hard as if trying to discern something. The lightning flashes again and the rain-splattered clothing becomes visible. A long red coat obscures this figure and a large top hat conceals their face. They turn and I realize I haven't taken a full breath. I feel tight inside as my eyes dart to the darkness of their face. Between my inhale and exhale, they disappear.

The person behind me releases me and I roll over, twisting my head in surprise as my eyes adjust to the shadows behind me.

Default Dragons

Patricia C. Wrede wrote The Enchanted Forest chronicles which I adored and read multiple times in my childhood. She has also written Wrede on Writing which is a collection of her thoughts on writing with a "none of this nonsense please" attitude.

One topic of hers struck me early on. Defaults.

What are your go-to actions?

I hadn't really considered the idea too deeply before but Wrede's comments have made me reflect. What do I choose most of the time when writing?

If you've read Island Whispers, you might think it's a third person close telling with multiple perspectives. In fact, it's first person and a limited time frame.

Time has always been my issue with writing. Logically it takes time to do things and calculating that or trying to represent that accurately has been my downfall. There is no need for a reader to suffer through every step in the forest or every moment from waking to sleep. Books are collections of events that are only moments of time - key moments to be exact. I just happen to exaggerate the minute and make the tying of shoes into a hypersensitive event.

Looking back now, I'm not sure what drew me to Island Whispers or the format that it took. I think I was just serving the story. The story needed multiple characters and for each to share their viewpoint - there was too much world to cover otherwise - and so I obliged with page after page of back and forth.

However, after I finished with Island Whispers and chose something new, I realized that first person seemed much simpler. It was easy to slip into a first person telling and I didn't have to worry about those bothersome tonal changes important for separating character voices.

Knowing your defaults is useful. If you want to grow, you must know the areas where you do well and then discern the areas where you need help. Challenging yourself to choose the POV, plots, genres that are not your norm is important so that you can continue to develop your skills. It's also important for storytelling. Some stories are not meant to be told in first person. Some stories need an omniscient perspective. As a writer, it is your job to serve your story and realize when the current path is not benefitting it.

One of my recent stories, the "fairy story" or Kira's story (I have no good title right now) was in first person, then I realized that it didn't fit. The characters rubbed against each other in the right way. The reader wouldn't be able to understand the natural knowledge that everyone in Faerie knew from birth. I needed a step back, more than that I needed a change of perspective.

What are your defaults? Why?


(You may or may not be wondering why this post is titled "Default Dragons." Partially because the Enchanted Forest Chronicles by Wrede is about dragons, but also because I believe that our defaults are those fierce-some beasts that we let dominate our writing. Unless we face them, we will continuously submit to them, believing them to be supernatural and difficult to conquer. It's easier to let the dragon be all powerful and dominating, but we need to look for the chinks in the armor if we're going to emerge unscathed.)