Mel's Musings

This is what happens when you procrastinate...

2010-04-27T14:12:00.002-07:00

Last post was my announcement about completing The Demon's Game. Since then, I've managed to finish another novel. Bonds I: The Dark Dissension is my fifth completed novel, making five in a five-year-period. A sixth novel will definitely be completed this year.

It's an amazing feeling to finish something you've spent so much time creating.

Another Success!

2009-08-17T14:16:00.003-07:00

It really is true: finish one novel and the rest follow easily. My rewrite of The Demon's Game was completed last night. About time, too, as the story needed serious revamping. It's exciting to have another completed novel--in the loosest sense, of course. I still have much editing to do with it, and I suspect the first five chapters (at least) will need a complete rewrite once again. Otherwise, I'll just have to see. I'm actually VERY excited to tackle the next draft. And then, there's always book two. It's a trilogy, so there's not so much a bittersweet feeling with this completion.

The ending for the book is SO different from the original draft. That is by no means a bad thing. It was just very...cliche, and this one more fits the mood of the story. I'm quite satisfied, and further drafts will bring greater improvements.

Still querying away for an agent to represent Paradise?, but I'm not concerned. If this one doesn't pave the way, one of my other works will. Perhaps Bonds, which is about two-thirds of the way through. Or, if I actually do tackle The Demon's Game's next draft soon, maybe that one. Guessing games are fun, yeah?

Despite the feminist view...

2009-03-19T13:17:00.002-07:00

...I think I'm living proof that women, generally, shouldn't work.
Even part-time jobs wipe me out, and I have NO energy afterward.
Or maybe I just have some sort of imbalance.
But I like to think it's the former.

As further proof, on my days off I'm a much, much, MUCH happier person than during weekdays.

First Query In!

2009-02-14T13:25:00.003-08:00

My pet monster Paradise? has officially sent off its first query letter to the first agent on my list. I'll keep you posted as things progress. I should hear from the agency in 5-10 days, as is their policy. I think while I wait I might just die from anxiety.

It's not that I can't handle rejection if it comes--I've handled it before and it hasn't scared me enough to stop trying (heaven forbid!). I just always get nervous about things like this. And things like dating--although last night's date was wonderful so I had nothing to worry about there. Perhaps I should take that as a good omen, yeah?

Wish me luck!

Can't Anyone Get It WRITE?

2009-02-05T20:40:00.002-08:00

Do you read fiction? I do. Or rather, I try to.

How much of the fiction you've read have had markedly satisfying endings? I'm not referring to those whose endings answered all questions or whose writing was decent or whose main male and female characters lived happily ever after. I mean, what was the last book you read which actually ended well. Very well. Like, with no sense of dissatisfaction whatsoever? (That feeling of let-down is something entirely different, as it just means you re-entered reality after a thrilling good read.)

The best book will leave you wanting more, because it was so good. Not because it missed a crucial element.

I can count the number of fiction novels which left me feeling content on one hand. I can't count the number of novels I've thrown across the room, burned (yes, burned) or left sitting on a shelf collecting dust because its ending was so poor. Perhaps I'm alone in this, but it says something of the state of things when a reader is left feeling like reading the bloody novel was a waste of her freaking time.

I hate it when you adore the characters, but there is not plot. Or it's a bad one. Or the plot is good, and the characters suck. Or both are great, but the end was abrupt, predictable or downright deplorable. I loathe it when the character you enjoy so much disappoints you by doing something stupid, and never redeems him/herself, ever.

Granted, not every reader will be satisfied with every book. Take the Twilight series for example. Obviously there are some pretty satisfied readers, as it's got quite the cult following. I am not among them. I tried reading it, and I will give Meyer points for not thoroughly sickening me. I simply couldn't handle the 17-year-old "romance", and so quit. That's perfectly fine with me. I tried, it failed me. Not to say it doesn't have its merits--it's just not my sort of readery. Your opinion, whatever it is, doesn't hurt me in the least. If Twilight gives you what you want from a novel, GREAT!

One of the first things which prompted me to write my own work was this dilemma: I can't find anything new worth reading. I keep resorting to the old and familiar, because those few books I thoroughly love are guaranteed to satisfy. But there are only so many times you can read the same thing. Where is the next J.K.Rowling or Lorna Freeman? I'm waiting, despairing, praying someone will write something right. Well. Good.

I want something which speaks to my heart, not my head and more base desires. I want something which motives laughter or tears or inspiration to be better. We need better books. We need better writers.

I have no doubt that out there, someplace I haven't yet explored, are the sorts of novels I'm looking for, and I hope I find them. Someone must have written one specifically for me. Where's my Twilight? Where's my next Harry Potter? Where's my lovable, eccentric Rabbit?

I read a statistic a while back which stated that if more people don't become interested in reading, then reading will virtually disappear within thirty years.

A separate group of statistics seem to back the first.

58% of the US adult population never reads another book after high school
42% of college graduates never read another book
80% of US families did not buy or read a book last year.
70% of US adults have not been in a bookstore in the last five years
57% of new books are not read to completion.
Most readers do not get past page 18 in a book they have purchased.

If that isn't proof that the literary world is failing, what is? We need fresh blood. We need new ideas, or perhaps very old and forgotten ones. Obviously novels are lacking.

Something must be done, or people will have no reason to read anymore.

I'll show YOU crazy!

2009-01-19T20:52:00.000-08:00

There is a problem with writing about crazy people. You begin to think like them. Or, is it that you begin to realize that they think the way they do because you think the way you do which causes them to think that way, too? Either way--or both--it seems that an unhealthy level of influence from my characters, or from me to my characters and back to me, has caused my insanity to reach a level unparalleled by the insanity of my characters--all thanks to them (or me, rather, but we've covered that already).

"Why do you think you're crazy?" you ask? Simple; I hear things. Things no one else hears. Like my name, called out by nothing. Because I'm alone in the house. Terrifying, that.

But that's not all. I talk to myself.

"Really?"

"YES! See?"

"No!"

"Yes, you do. Liar."

"Shut up."

"I can't. If I do, you will."

"Good point. So, proceed."

"Thanks."

Do YOU see?

Are you arguing, "But a crazy person can't know they are crazy!"

Psh. Have you ever been a crazy person with the inability to tell you're crazy? Honestly, how is a person with a certificate stating they are sane in order that they can call others crazy really know how it feels to be crazy? Huh? Yeah, good point, isn't it?

"It is."

"Hush."

And while we're on the subject, who isn't crazy? I mean, who decides what normal is--someone who feels HE is normal? Oh, that's brilliant. Let someone who believes themselves to be normal define normal, so everyone else who doesn't think like them can't be normal, so they must be crazy. Again, brilliant.

Why not let the crazy diagnose themselves, as I think we would know better than a person who believes himself to be sane. If he can decide that, surely we have the same right.

"Right?"

"Right."

The Ironies of Life

2009-01-18T19:15:00.005-08:00

I've been spending so much time on my other blog, I've been neglecting this one. Shame on me. I guess the other one is accomplishing mostly what I originally wanted a blog for (I just didn't know it at the time). Still, this one stays for less "heated" topics, and daily-life-updates. Like writing.

Speaking of writing, I've been trying my best, despite a terrible migraine and a broken finger. The latter is mending slowly; the former...not so much. Still, I'm trying the "positive thinking" approach about tomorrow, and am pretending like I really will go to work. Maybe it'll work. 'Cept I'm loathe to go to work, secretly, which isn't helping the whole "positive" outlook. Ah well. Worth trying, I suppose, if only for the paycheck. (Did anyone else notice the redundancy of "work" in this paragraph? I need to work on those. ;D)

In the writing world, I can't seem to finish writing (there I go again) this dratted synopsis for my novel, which makes submitting it seem a world away. I hate synopses. They stifle creative flow and ruin a good story. Condensing the plot of a three-hundred-plus page novel into three or so pages is near like unto murder. I can't represent a complex plot well in three measly pages! Better to ask me to change the weather.

But I'll do it, because publishing a novel is still my dream, and dreams are worth striving for.

P.S. And on a completely different track, you might have noticed my user name is now "Hikari". Might want to note that, as it's staying, since I respond to that as readily as Melissa or Mel, and I like it so very much. Not that it's highly necessary to tell you so, but I thought I'd share anyway.

Pet Monster! RAWR!

2009-01-14T20:25:00.005-08:00

I started a new blog. This one will remain my main one, of course, as the other blog has a very specific role. Well, sorta.

I'm actually a very rant-prone person. I have very strong opinions on certain subjects (and very random ones on others). As these thoughts strike, I've decided to type them out. Some are well researched, others...aren't. Intrigued?

I call these rants my heated lamentations.

Enjoy, if you can! ;P

In other news, I broke my finger. Nyargh. >.<;

The Amazing Human...Nightlight?

2008-12-30T17:11:00.002-08:00

“Kneel.”

I obeyed Lon, kneeling in the squishy mud. He slowly put my hands into the water, and a searing pain exploded in my palms. I screamed (and I'm not too proud to admit to it). The pain was excruciating, and even though Lon instantly jerked me away from the pool, the pain only intensified. I curled into a ball, clutching my hands to my chest, biting my lip against the burning sensation.

“Are you certain this is the pool?” Lon demanded of Jenen.

“Yes, but it seems the properties have changed again.” His own voice was concerned.

“Are you all right, Key?” Veija asked, and I felt a gentle hand touch my cheek. “Let me see.”

Several pairs of strong hands sat me up and gently pried my hands away from me. I didn't bother to hide the tears streaking my cheeks. It hurt too dang much to care. I avoided looking at my palms even when the others gasped audibly.

“Oh, Key,” Veija whispered breathlessly.

Finally I forced myself to look, and my own eyes widened. My hands were horribly torn and burned, but where there should have been blood, a brilliant silvery-blue fluid, pulsing with light, dripped from the wounds.

“Told you I was turning into a nightlight,” I muttered, trying to ease the pain by joking.

“If this isn't proof enough that he is Vendaeva, then nothing is,” Lon stated, unwrapping a strip of cloth from his arm and wrapping it around one injured hand.

“Glad I could sacrifice my hands so you'd know,” I said, gritting my teeth as he tightened the lavender bandage. “Though I assure you that up 'til now I've never once bled anything but blood.”

“It's a magic wound, Key. Of course it's going to be different.”

I scowled. “Well excuse me for never having seen a magical wound before to compare it with.”

Ups and Downs and Ups S'more!

2008-12-28T11:40:00.002-08:00

Christmas was amazing.
Simple as that.

Then, my car died.
The transmission has been slipping a lot, and now...
It is no more.

Ah well. Payments must be made either way.

Still, Christmas was amazing.

Despite the Flames

2008-12-19T15:15:00.004-08:00

Last Saturday evening my parents dropped my youngest brother (age 10) off at our home while they took the other two younger siblings (14 & 17) to a youth dance two hours away. A few hours later, we received a call from a neighbor that said the home my parents were renting was on fire. My older brother, myself and my little brother (the only ones not at the dance or at work) jumped in our car and drove over to the house. We got there forty-five minutes after the fire had started and before the fire department ever arrived. It was far beyond saving.

When we arrived at the scene, I comforted my little brother, who shook and cried for a long time. After that, I looked for any cats who may have gotten out alive. I found two; our outside tom-cats. The flames were not entirely put out until about 11:45 PM, after my parents had returned and we had taken them to our trailer house. (My older brother and sister (27 & 24), and my next youngest sister (19) and I (20) had moved away from home into our own place about twenty minutes away, back in November).

My parents and three youngest siblings lost everything they owned, save the clothes on their backs. We also had several cats locked beneath the house to save them from the cold weather. When the fire started, they never made it out. My own two cats and my turtle died... I also lost a lot of other important things, but nothing compared to my parents, as I had mostly moved my possessions from the house.

How did the fire start? We can't say for certain, but the most plausible reason was the bend in the wood-stove's chimney. Creosote always gathered in the bend, turning it red-hot. It was getting worse, but we never expected it to do that so suddenly, with the fire so low. It most likely over-heated, exploded the pipe and spit hot flames out into the kitchen (the only real exit) like a flame-thrower.

Our church has been helping with food and clothes, and my parents and siblings are staying with us in our little home, until tonight, when they will take what they have and move into a cabin offered to them, a ways down the road. They will stay there while they receive help finishing their permanent home on their 20 acre property.

A lot of things can never be replaced, especially our beloved pets, but the most important thing is that no one was home and caught in the fire. For that, I'm very grateful. Christmas will be a little different this year, but we've all decided to make the most of it despite our new circumstances, despite the hot flames that consumed memories, records and pets. We just thank God we still have each other.

A Writer's Quirks: 01

2008-11-03T16:06:00.007-08:00

I've just realized some of my writing quirks:

-I always have at least one forest scene in all my books, and the forests always have oak trees.
-I always use a male protagonist (which is intentional, but still amusing).
-I can't avoid humor, no matter how I try.
-Writing without music is impossible.
-Black eyes ROCK. Green eyes, too. They are my favorite to use for characters.
-Slender, beautiful men are not overrated. I'm serious! And they must always have striking eyes, long hair, cold dispositions and must walk lithely.
-I love plays-on-words.
-While I hate writing in first-person, it's actually somehow easier to write, but, aside from Paradise?, I will probably never use it again.
-I love, absolutely love, creating fantasy religions and cultures.
-My female characters are never very important unless they are slightly sarcastic.
-I usually write after the fact, when people are suffering from the repercussions of someone else's stupidity. In other words, I start the novel in the middle of the story, and slowly reveal the past. It's more fun that way.
-Instrumental music is actually more distracting to write with than lyrical songs are.
-The most common letter I use for a character's first name is "J"; like Jenen, Jeyeswe, Jenkin, Jenny, Jason, Jeremy, Jana, Jamae, Jemi, etc.
-If I quit writing at the end of a chapter, I have a hard time starting again later. However, if I write even a single line in the new chapter before I quit, I can pick back up easily the next time.

I'm sure I'll recognize more as I go along. NaNoWriMo has been teaching me a lot about myself, this year.

NaNoWriMo: Day One

2008-11-01T17:34:00.004-07:00

I've managed to write over 5,000 words in BONDS today, thus far, which rocks! As it's a Saturday I was able to spend most of my time focusing solely on writing, so I certainly don't expect every day through November to be so productive. Still, this gives me a head start, so that on days where writing is simply out of the question, I won't so resent the time away from my novel.

In all, so far so good!

Redundancy of the day: The word "so".
I wonder how often that ended up being used in my writing today...

About Time, Yeah?

2008-10-31T18:08:00.008-07:00

It's that time of year again, when adults are given an excuse to dress up and be somebody different. The last few years I've only been able to throw things together from my wardrobe, slap a name on it and pretend I know what I'm doing. This year is different.

I planned to go as a samurai, actually, but I ended up ordering a different sort of costume. I'm as pleased with this as could be, however, so no complaints here. I plan to post pictures later, after my sister snaps a few. I actually loathe getting my picture taken, but this costume demands to be viewed by the world--even if they don't know what it is. (This is proof that despite my protests, I really am a fan girl. (Yes, you may shudder.))

So far, at the few parties I've attended, people have mistaken me for a "catholic priest", a "Chinese person" and a character from something I'm unfamiliar with. Doesn't matter. The point is, the costume seriously rocks. That's enough for me.

More on that later, when the pictures come.

Happy Halloween! Hope you enjoy my own capture of a very eerie sunset.

On another note, I've been trying to figure out why I can't seem to stay faithful to my blog very long. I finally determined that I needed to personalize it so I felt like it really was mine, and I really could say whatever I wanted. Thus, my new layout. Nifty and neat, yeah?

NaNoWriMo Much?

2008-10-30T19:32:00.004-07:00

I'm absolutely pumped for National Novel Writing Month, this year. I disappeared (aka moved) during last year's month-long writing retreat, but kept writing anyway. Still, it'll be nice to have fellow participants and supporters, er, supporting one another and thus-and-such.

Too bad there are no local cafes or bookstores for the proper environment. Ah well. It'll still be worth it. The way I figure, if I write three pages EVERY day minus Sunday, size twelve font, single spaced, I can make it. I did last year, though I had considerably less time, what with the move, so I had to get in more pages every day...

This year will be fun. The story is demanding to be written; it won the lottery when I was trying to decide between around fifteen titles, and it's definitely being persistent now that it has that winning ticket. All I can say is it better stay a winner. I'd hate to get half way through November and then realize that it isn't going to fly. Ugh. I hate when that happens.

Anyway, for all participants, good luck! Wanna add me as your buddy? I'd love it (and most certainly return the favor).

Happy writing, all!

Who KNEW?!

2008-09-08T17:06:00.002-07:00

Rewrites have always intimidated me. Not to say they aren't still daunting, but I'm thoroughly enjoying the rewrite of Paradise? for some reason. Normally I try to do as little actual 'rewriting' as possible, and just edit typos and add a paragraph here or there. This time, however, is different, and I'm loving it. I know the story backward and forward, so now I get to explore the world within a little more.

If I'd know earlier how fun it is to completely rewrite something, I'd have much more done. But that's okay. Better late than never.

And fortunately for me, it's almost finished being rewritten. Then, submission to agents, here I come! *insert huge cheesy grin here*

Confirmation, much?

2008-08-29T17:52:00.006-07:00

It's always been amazing to me that when I'm having any sort of creative block, especially when it lasts for endless months, the strangest things unlock the bars around my mind, in the end. It starts small--a simple comment, gesture or song. Then, it continues in a series; even after your mind is freed.

I was experiencing a severe writer's block. It was discouraging me. Then, a friend sent me a note, prodding me to start the rewrite that was so bogging me done. I informed her that I was having no luck starting it. I turned to my sister in that moment and explained my situation. She shrugged, made a simple suggestion and BANG! the bars lifted.

As if that wasn't enough, conversations, music and a single movie fortified the ideas suddenly swimming dizzily in my mind.

Block be gone.

I always know I'm on the right track when an idea is backed over and over. Like, one time, when I was trying to give a novel its title. Idea after idea. Dead end. Then, finally, when considering the flavor of the plot, and the underlying currents, I knew what to call it. As soon as I decided its name would be BONDS, people started saying "bonds" in their conversations; lyrics in songs sang out "bonds" --heck! I even received confirmation from the pulpit.

Inspiration can be found anywhere. Anytime.

It's really quite amazing.

In Their Footsteps

2008-08-08T19:50:00.002-07:00

At 8 a.m. on the fifteenth of July, some two dozen youth and local youth leaders of Kamiah 2nd Ward in the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-Day Saints left Clearwater with two authentic hand-made handcarts holding loaded buckets and food, and started a strenuous trek along rough back roads that would last four days. The trek was made in honor of their Latter-Day Saint ancestors who crossed Illinois, Iowa, Nebraska and Wyoming between 1846-1857 to gain religious freedom; they endured countless hardships, including death, and eventually entered the Salt Lake Valley of what later became Utah State.

This year a committee was formed to plan and prepare for this trek; endless hours of planning extended over long months brought about the final results. Amish handcart kits were ordered from the East, and were put together by several young men who would be participating in the handcart trek. Several historical reenactments were put into play, including the “Mormon Battalion” incident where the men were called away to fight in the Mexican war, leaving the woman to pull the handcarts on their own.

Activities such as square-dancing, dutch-oven food and pony express delivery occurred, teaching Latter-Day youth more about traditions in the times of their pioneer ancestors, historical facts and to “appreciate that the first Saints remained cheerful despite disheartening circumstances,” says Deborah Wadsworth, Trek Committee Member and Young Woman President of Kamiah 2nd Ward.

“This trek was planned so that the youth would understand and appreciate the sacrifices endured by early members of the Church,” Wadsworth continues. “So they would understand how to endure to the end, and the significance of religious freedom. This doesn't just apply to our Church. It's comparable to the sacrifices made by the pilgrims on the Mayflower. Anyone who wants religious freedom endures whatever hardships come to attain it.”

The weather remained beautiful for the trek's duration, but that didn't stop this trek from having a few setbacks—some planned, some not. One evening dinner didn't arrive, as it had on previous nights. Youth Leaders offered 1/2 cup of flour, with water, and three tablespoons of wheat berries to the youth—the only food with them—to try and sate their hunger. This meal was similar to what the pioneers had to eat on the Mormon Trail. After the youth had eaten this, the real food arrived; stark contrast to the tiny portions they first received. Unplanned, however, was surgery, when one leader got an infection on his foot. A pocketknife and disinfectant were the only tools available.

Letters, written by real parents and loved one were delivered by pony express to the youth.

Wednesday evening found the trek participants with an opportunity to share their feelings about the trek, as well as bear their testimony to the group. Heartfelt emotions filled the atmosphere as youth and adults felt near-inexpressible gratitude for the sacrifices made by pioneers so long ago.

On July 18, tired, dirty and smiling, Kamiah 2nd Ward pulled the sturdy handcarts back into Clearwater some thirty-miles later with newfound love and understanding for their ancestors, having walked in their footsteps.

--
Clearwater Article, Draft 1
(c) Melissa Wadsworth

A lotta life, a lotta love.

2008-07-22T15:46:00.004-07:00

It's rather sad when the expression "a day off" is in reference to one day without a headache. Argh. I get plenty of sleep, plenty of water, and plenty of exercise. What's my deal? Aside from that, though, life is pretty good.

I received a new calling in my ward. Gospel Essentials Instructor. Heh. I'm a little nervous, and a lot excited. It's a wonderful thing to be able to teach converts and investigators about our Church principles, the basics, the foundation. It will strengthen my own testimony, which is always, always possible. With a lot of prayer, I know it will be a tremendous, amazing experience.

I've also been asked to write an article for the local newspaper detailing the "why and what" of our ward's youth handcart trek. This is somehow more nerve-wracking than teaching a class. I write fiction, not articles, but I'm also very honored and excited. It will be an awesome learning experience--though, lately, what hasn't been?

My job, working with my dear friend, who is blind and autistic, continues to be a joy, but also a huge trial. She's wonderful, but thoroughly exhausting. Sometimes, I wonder if I can make it through the entire work day, but I always do. Still, when the time comes to move on to other things, I don't know if there'll be much hesitation. I couldn't work with her for years and years. Besides, writing is my eventual pursuit.

As for writing itself, I live it and love it.

"Being an author is like being in charge of your own personal insane asylum." ~Graycie Harmon

2008-07-11T14:21:00.000-07:00

Last autumn I asked myself a question; what happens to a story, and its characters, when you discard the idea and scrap the whole project?

A new story was born from that thought. Ironic, ne?

Sometimes, being a writer scares me.

"We know the truth, not only by the reason, but by the heart." ~Blaise Pascal

2008-06-21T20:08:00.005-07:00

You recall that friend who just got married? The one who made me ponder change and its bitter-sweet experience. Yes, him. I've known him since I was thirteen and he was sixteen. We attended Seminary together, discussed our goals (both of us wished to serve missions, etc) and then, we grew up. And we changed.

He returned from a mission February of 2007, but seemed reluctant to discuss his mission. I wondered why. I felt a little concerned. I found out today that he has become agnostic, and very-anti-Mormon. He's written several essays in his blog pertaining to polygamy, and accusing the Church of "hiding the truth from us" all this time. The points he brought up were parts of history he never knew--these same "disturbing" facts which I already knew about. It hasn't shaken my faith.

I don't resent this young man's change of heart. I'm sadden, as it has made him a very bitter person, but he has the right to believe as he will. Still, I am sickened that he won't leave the Church alone, as many others never can after they have "left" it. He has to tear it down and try to destroy others' testimonies, since his own is gone. Again, he can believe what he likes, but he should allow others that self-same right. As the 11th Article of Faith declares, "We claim the privilege of worshiping Almighty God, and allow all men the same privilege; let they worship how, where and what they may." That I firmly believe. If this young man believes that the Church is wrong, and its Prophet is false, he may. But he must allow others to believe as they will, also. Just because he doesn't know something anymore, doesn't mean it isn't still the truth.

I don't believe the Church is true. I know the Church is true. The Gospel has been restored. Joseph Smith saw a Vision of God the Father and His Son Jesus Christ, and he translated the Book of Mormon; another testament of Jesus Christ. I know the Atonement of Jesus Christ is for us, that we may be redeemed if we repent. Thomas S. Monson is the Prophet today--he wears the mantle of Prophet, Seer and Revelator. He hears God's Word and shares it with us, His people. I know that God the Father lives and loves me. That his Son is my brother, and died that I might be saved, if I will repent and strive to be perfected in Him. The Holy Ghost guides, directs and comforts if I heed his Voice.

This is my testimony, undiminished by the "disturbing" facts in Church History. My testimony is not the testimony of my mother or my father; it is not the testimony of someone I heard last Fast Sunday. It is mine; firm, unmoving, true. I did not receive this testimony by some miraculous event, the seeing of angels or hearing a booming voices. I knew it in my heart; have always know it in my heart. That is enough for me.

A Tribute To Shasta

2008-06-18T21:11:00.000-07:00

Yesterday wasn't what I'd consider the best day of my life. In fact, I ended up crying so hard my head nearly exploded. I had a severe headache up until I finally took painkiller this evening.

We received a phone call from a neighbor who explained that he shot our dog. Apparently the jerk assumed it was another neighbor's dog--one who had been dragging garbage around their yard--and he grabbed his shotgun and killed my poor Shasta without making sure it was the same dog. He didn't even offer to compensate...wasn't even truly sorry...just said, "Gee, sorry, but he shouldn't have been in my yard." Not that money or anything would have helped--another dog won't replace Shasta easily...but he didn't even care. Shasta had followed my younger brother up when he went to visit the jerk's son. Shasta never meant any harm...

When I received the news, I just burst into tears. I don't cry too often--but that news hurt. I love dogs. LOVE them. I've had four--each has died; but I keep replacing them, hoping this one will be different...Heh. Maybe I should stop. Except I can't. I LOVE dogs. But replacing Shasta...that will be difficult. I'm going to have trouble dealing with our neighbor for a while, I'm sad to say...

Shasta was half German Shepherd, half Samoyed. A huge, blond dog, he liked to run ahead of my car whenever I came home, pretending he was leading a sled. He barked whenever an intruder came, greeted everyone cheerily (except the rare people he just didn't like) and had the prettiest brown-puppy-dog eyes ever.

I will miss him so terribly.

It's strange how painful, how hollow it can feel when a beloved pet has died. And this...feels like murder. I'm coping okay-- after all, he's not in pain now. He's had a good burial. But...I will miss him.

I love you, Shasta.
See you on the Other Side.

...Sunrise, Sunset, Sunrise, Sunset...

2008-06-13T15:07:00.005-07:00

I received an email from an old friend I've known since I was thirteen years old. His news was, unsurprisingly, "I'm married." This is to be expected. After all, he's a twenty-two-year-old returned missionary, back for just over a year. Still, it was almost unnerving. This is the fourth friend around my own age who has recently tied that particular eternal knot. And why not? We're all adults now, right?

But, yesterday...we weren't.

Growing is painful. Not like those scrapes we got falling off our bikes when Daddy let go of the seat behind us. Not like the water up your nose when you learned how to dive. This sort of pain is...deeper. It's the sort of pain you experience as you close the casket, or when you have a terrible argument and you're sure your relationship will never be the same again; and it isn't.

Not that marriage in itself is painful. On the contrary, I consider it the most sacred, important event of one's life. But...I guess the prospect of change frightens me. Who isn't frightened by it, at least a little?

I guess I just remember too well the joy of yesterday. Those days of tangled, half-done braids, no makeup, holey pants, stained shirts--totally indifferent to my appearance. The running through hundred-acre corn fields, climbing trees, scampering over rooftops, drawing without caring how badly it turns out. What changed?

Swiftly flow the years...

We grew up. Opinions started to matter; paths diverged. Change.

I'm not bitter. In fact, I am grateful to be where I am now. I wouldn't want to go back to all the troubles youth entails, but, still...I always remember my childhood in the sunlight. I guess that's how memories are--honey sprinkled with a grain or two of salt. Today is never as good.

I wonder if that can't be changed, though. Why does yesterday always have to seem better? Why do we have to let those opinions start to matter? Certainly we don't want to run around with tangled braids and holey pants, but...we don't have to like that movie just 'because it's popular' or bleach our hair because it's 'in style'. We don't have to change who we are. What we like.

I guess that is what I fear. Unnecessary change. Things like marriage, graduation, moving away; they don't have to change the ways things are. Friendships can still be whole. I believe what strains a relationship is when people aren't themselves, and then one day they wake up and realize that, and decide to change.

If we start out as ourselves, we have little to fear. It won't fix everything. It's not always, or even often, the answer. But, still. It may make today better than all our yesterdays were.

Heaven On Earth

2008-06-09T18:56:00.002-07:00

I live in a visually stunning place now, completely opposite from the large city I left back in November. Here, there are mountains, curving roads, tiny towns spotting here and there, scattered ten miles from one another, countless pines and icy cold rivers joining and churning as they head for the pacific ocean. Wild live is prominent; turkeys, deer, coyotes, wolves, elk, fish, eagles. The weather fluctuates constantly; one minute raining, the next 80+ degrees, the next it's snowing. The spring has brought brilliant pink and white blossoms, bees, meadowlarks and sunburns.

In this place my family and I thrive. The people are kind (if slightly eccentric), the religious fervor is a pleasant (if startling) change from the apathy of my former home, and the drive is always adventurous--even when one is driving down to the local store to buy a loaf of bread. And you can always count on something going on, somewhere. There's hardly a moment to breath, yet I've never felt so relaxed in my life. How is that for a change? In my city-life I was going nowhere, and getting there too fast to know what hit me.

My 13-year-old sister, sick since January '07 is making a rapid, miraculous recovery from her illness. Though she still suffers from arthritis, she insists on making her own meals, walking around, and she laughs on a constant basis. It's a big change from Christmas time, when she couldn't get out of her wheelchair without help, and hoarded her food like it was always her last meal. We were sometimes afraid it might be. However, with faith, prayer and many, many priesthood blessings, Jennilyn is gaining her strength and energy faster than we ever imagined. It's been a tough road, but with all the family working together, and the support of people we know, and even some we don't, my sister will recovery wholly.

I've also taken a new job since moving. Formerly I worked at a service deli (as you may recall), but now I am a care provider, assisting an autistic, blind woman around my own age. Together we perform service in the communities, and we cook and clean. I've learned valuable lessons in patience and love since meeting her in February. Her simple faith, in both life and her Savior, has made a profound impact on my own spiritual feelings. How can a blind woman see more clearly than I the plan of this life, and hereafter? Yet she can; it's humbling. She has no doubt in her Savior's love for her, no doubt that one day she will see through her eyes; see all the colors that she always asks me so eagerly about.

Life is different here. It's...spiritual. Like God touched this spot on the Earth and said, "Let the trials here bring more strength, more love, more compassion. Let these people learn of my hand in all things." This is a tough place to live. People struggle; they live in humbler circumstances than many people can fathom existing in the United States. Jobs are scarce, but everyone comes together to help put up homes for those without, everyone gives of the storage when a family is hungry. It's...beautiful. Amazing.

I love this place. Despite having moved twenty-one times in my 20 years of life, this is home.

Relaxation suits me fine...

2008-06-08T19:05:00.003-07:00

Believe it or not, I'm back. It's amazing, returning to the Internet after such a long hiatus. But, you wouldn't ever believe how hard it is to get Internet in the woods where I now call home. But, obviously, I prevailed against the po-dunk-i-ness, as I am back. (Though, seriously, I love my new home. It's wonderful.)

I should probably explain where I've been the past seven months. What has transpired. But...I'm not really up for it right now. I'd rather kick back, listen to Michael McClean's Garden CD, and enjoying the flashing light on my desktop which assures me, "Yes, the Internet truly IS back."

Tomorrow. I'll explain it all tomorrow.

Just About That Time

2007-11-04T08:44:00.000-08:00

After several long days of packing, it has finally come time to move. I'm not sure how long it'll be until I get Internet back...

See you on the other side.

Eventually.

Five months, three weeks, two days, and counting...

2007-10-25T11:01:00.000-07:00

My older sister Heidi has been serving a mission in New York for the past year. She and I are very close, we share everything, so it's been a little tough without her to talk to. Still, I'm very proud of all she's doing and how much she has grown.

Heidi has always had a yard-long mane of golden hair; one of her distinctive traits and the envy of girls around her. However, to prove how seriously she is taking her mission, and because she was tired of being known for her hair instead of what she taught, she cut her gorgeous hair to her shoulders. Now that's dedication.

She finally has the return date. April 17th 2008. The countdown begins, and I have placed a ticker at the bottom of this blog to keep track. In the meantime, Heidi plans to continue losing herself in the work--she'll leave the counting to me.

Today

2007-10-24T08:51:00.000-07:00

"Life is good, life is great, life is unbelievable. Life is hard, life is cruel, life is so beautiful!" ~LFO

There are days when life generally sucks. Today is not such a day.

Livin' life, and lovin' it.

"...In Mysterious Ways"

2007-10-19T19:11:00.001-07:00

"So, tell me something. Why is it that even girls write about guys?"

I had just finished reading an excerpt from my book to Cameron, and he posed this question. I pondered it for a moment, almost pointing out that actually a lot of girls did write about girls, but finally I answered.

"For me, guys are easier to portray. Somehow I find it harder to distinguish a girl's personality. Guys are just easier to work with."

Cameron was silent for a moment. "So... basically, even to girls, girls are a mystery."

I laughed. "Yes, exactly! We've long stopped attempting to understand ourselves. We just are. We probably won't understand the mysterious ways of women until we reach the Other Side. We'll have to ask God, 'how do women work?' --And of course, he'll refer us to his wife!"

Growing Pains

2007-10-16T20:27:00.000-07:00

I have recently come to understand why teething infants are so grumpy. And I sympathize. For the past two years my wisdom teeth have been working their way up through my gums. Unfortunately said teeth haven't got the room required inside my tiny mouth, but are attempting to surface regardless.

Until recently I have coped well, as the pain always came and went quickly. But right now the pain is intense. I can't swallow without pain shooting down my jaw. My cheeks are swollen, my ears have been bleeding, my head is swimming in severe headaches. Only a heavy dose of ibuprofen kept me alive at work yesterday. I don't want to take pills every day, so I suffered with the pain all of today. But it's only getting worse.

Why don't I see a dentist?

Frankly, I can't afford it. Maybe when I move, and have less expenses, I can handle payments, but right now, all I can do is grin (well, no, that rather hurts) and bear. Even though all I want to do is curl up in bed, after making my room absolutely pitch-dark, and listen to the sound of silence (not the song).

Ah well. If wishes were fishes...

...There'd be no fishes left. But, that's beside the point.

The BIG Question

2007-10-11T21:11:00.000-07:00

"What sort of music do you like?"

This is the biggest question of all. Bigger than any other question posed by Man. The answer to this question decides whether you get that second date or enter that social circle. You have one of two answers to give, only these two could possibly be right. But which is it?

"I like everything."

Or,

"I like country."

It seems that one of these two is mandatory, if you wish to be "accepted" by whomever posed the question.In fear of sounding nerdy, ignorant, or narrow-minded the general response is the first: Everything.

Admittedly I have given that answer on many occasions myself. But recently I was struck by a revelation: I really don't like everything. In fact, I'm very particular about music.

I listen to classical music, such as symphonies.Big Band from the 30's and 40's. I adore 50's music. I enjoy 70's, and some 80's as well. I have many favorite from the various genres of today: New Age, Alternative, Pop and even some Metal. Heck, I've even enjoyed a little Hip-Hop. But, thinking on it, it comes down to the song itself, not its genre. If the music moves me, inspires me, or holds my interest--then I am sold. The melody, lyrics, emotion; these are what music is about. Not what is most popular, most irreverent, most catchy.

The next time someone poses the Big Question, I have my response ready.

"I like the good stuff."

Thought Patterns

2007-10-08T20:59:00.000-07:00

My false hopes that this was just a dream were beginning to falter as the last light from the setting sun faded into true night. Such detail, such pain, such length. How could it possibly be a dream? Then again, what other logical explanation was there?

My eyes widened as the thought struck me for the very first time. Was I dead? Was it possible that when I slipped into that puddle, some random car slammed into my body and crushed my every bone? Or perhaps I had hit my head so hard it caused some kind of complication to the brain, and I died during surgery. Could this strange, mystical, pain-filled, tree-infested, furry-critter-populated, sharp-toothed wonderland possibly be Hell?

After all, I was a very good liar, and my mother always told me where liars went when they died. Now I had reason to believe her—when it was too late.

---
As I was running through the first chapters of Paradise? I stumbled upon this brief passage and, for the first time, it struck me how much this little bit of writing truly sums up Key's way of thinking. After reading, I quickly went to the end of the document to compare his thought patterns and the changes therein.

Wow.

Meet Key.
Charming youth, isn't he? :D

A Testament of Hope

2007-10-06T16:56:00.000-07:00

The rain has fallen very heavily today. The sky is a dreary gray. The mountains are shrouded by threatening clouds. Would it be mental to admit that, contrary to most, this sort of atmosphere makes me happy?

Because it does.

Rain moves me, inspires me. I hear it patter on the sidewalk, on the fallen leaves, in the puddles, and I smile. The sound of rushing water, the knowledge that the storm is cleansing the earth, making things grow, washing away the dead and dirty.

Nighttime is like that as well. Bleak, gloomy, shadowed. And above are glistening stars, like a testament that states with surety: hope shines no matter what, cutting through darkness, ultimately stronger--

--A testament of hope in these times of darkness the world is facing. Such symbols of strength stand as beacons for all to see and follow. Like the clean rain falling from darkened skies, or the stars that pierce through the night, there is always hope, always courage, always a way.

That is, of course, the reason our Father in Heaven made them so.

Why IS That?

2007-10-05T20:01:00.000-07:00

I don't know why it is, but for some reason when something becomes remotely popular/addictive I seem to feel the urge to try it out.

Well. No. Let me rephrase.
Better, yet. I'll give an example.

Web comics:
-Now, I can draw only a little, and definitely not anything in sequence and with any sort of action. Yet when I read online comics, I get these crazy-fun ideas for my own comics, promptly grab a pad of paper, sketch half way through an entire page, then either become discouraged because my drawing sucks, or lose my interest, OR lose my train of thought. Yet I keep on forgetting that and always try (and fail) again. Argh.

Other such sporadic bursts of creativity have included skateboarding, writing music (ha!), photography, macromedia flash, and many more.

Maybe it's not just me. Or maybe it is. I dunno. What is it that drives me to attempt that which I know is something I'll never actually stick with?

There have been exceptions. I'm much better at ice skating than I thought I could be (never fell down when I was on the ice for the first time!) and I enjoy Tennis. Writing was not something I foresaw in my youth, yet that is now my passion.

Perhaps these urges are there to get me to actually creep out of my self-built limitations. Perhaps they are there to make me grow, seek, experience. In the which case I am grateful, if slightly saddened that so many more things are out there than I will ever master.

Oh! Here comes another web comic idea. They just never cease...

Goodbye

2007-09-27T19:37:00.000-07:00

My grandmother suffered a mild stroke a few years back, which left her only half aware of her surroundings. After that it was like she lived in a different world from ours, until Independence Day.

She has been living with my aunt this year, and they went together to see the fireworks display on the Fourth of July. Amidst the bursts of sounds and flash of colors she came to herself and suddenly remembered everything.It was as though she had been awakened from a slumber to put her affairs in order before the end.

Tonight I got a phone call from my mom with news of my grandmother's passing. As I drove home from work in the dark, listening to my mom speak, I caught a flash of light somewhere overhead. Fixing my gaze on the spot I saw a firework explode and then rain down from the sky.

Be at peace, Melba Black. You're home now.

Little By Little

2007-09-26T20:21:00.001-07:00

My brother and I surprised my parents by showing up on their doorstep Saturday afternoon. If they stilled lived in the old house this might not have been so shocking for them (as it was only a three hour trip) but not they live ten hours away in the mountains of Northern Idaho. We sneakily got directions to the house without giving away our plans and arrived around 3:00 PM their time. My little sister (the sick one) nearly cried tears of joy at our arrival.

After a long weekend (we took Monday off work for the trip back) in which several families in the area played matchmaker with their children and my brother and I. One grandmother proudly displayed her two oldest (and eligible) grandsons, while one mother listed all the qualities of her beautiful daughter like she was the first-place pie at the state fair. We smiled politely and endured.

The trip back to Utah on Monday was loooooong. Very, very looooooong. Between a loooooooong trip, with little sleep and an abrupt change in climate, it's not too surprising that I developed the worse head cold ever. Pain killer does nothing for it. I've been going to work regardless, as I have too many financial obligations to keep me in bed all day. I just keep telling myself that, come November, I'm home-free. I'll move up to my parent's place, get a part-time job to maintain car payments, and live off them for a while. (This is of course under the agreement that I help around the house, care for my sister, and save money for the spring semester.)

October is going to go very slowly.

But, for right now, I'll just focus on getting better. That's enough to keep me occupied for a while. No more evening classes in which I'm called upon to explain something and I find myself utterly stumped because my head is too fuzzy to have even comprehended the question--even after he repeats it three times.

Going In A New Direction

2007-09-14T21:12:00.000-07:00

My twelve year old sister was diagnosed with a bacterial arthritis in January of this year. Before we knew how ill she was, the first signs were her swollen hands. We thought it was an allergic reaction to dish soap. By January we knew better. By March she could hardly walk.

This year has certainly been a test of faith for my family. My Dad recently lost his job, my Mom has been bedridden several times, possibly because of her appendix. And she's been trying to take care of my sister, who occasionally requires a wheelchair.

I don't say all this for pity. I say it, because I see it as a blessing. My family has never been closer! The trails are not over. My Mom is still weak, my Dad is still unemployed, and my little sister still has arthritis. But, on the bright side, my sister is also improving. Her health only steadily declined until my parents bought some property in Northern Idaho, moved out of their house in Southern Idaho (in a small town where they were unhappy) and settled into a four-bedroom renter while the new house is built. Now, my sister can walk without help, and on her better days, she can run short distances.

I moved to Utah in February, both because I wanted out of that little town, and because my brother needed someone to split expenses with. Now, however, it seems my path diverges from his. In November the contract on our apartment ends, and then I will move to Northern Idaho to help my family. That, and to bring down my expenses and pay off my car. I believe the reason for my Mom's recent health issues stem from stress, so I want to help relieve that.

Leaving Utah will not be easy. I have many good friends here, and while my job is not amazing, it is comfortable and familiar. Uprooting again is daunting, but I feel that this is the right way to go.

The Lord works in mysterious ways. All I can do is heed his counsel and walk forward.

A Night To Remember

2007-09-13T22:27:00.000-07:00

I'll have worked in the same place for six months, come the 23rd of this month. During this time I managed to develop a crush on a guy in the Produce department, but he never seemed to know I existed. (Of course that was only because I had convinced myself that I would never be noticed.) In time we managed to have a few conversations, one of which found us both admitting that we loved fantasy (a subject most employees avoid like the plague, for fear of being mocked).

After that discussion I had hoped that we would at least become good friends. Alas, another girl (for whom I have a lot of respect) befriended him and they started hanging out. I stepped to the side, afraid to intrude.

But, today he asked me out. Well, sort of. It was more a friend-thing, but the fact that he came out of his way to invite me to his brother's concert is incredible. We had spent the entire morning at work smiling shyly (we're neither of us outgoing at first) at each other as we walked by the others work place and, at last, we are really friends.

Ah, warm fuzzies.

For the record, the concert was a lot of fun, and I enjoyed his company very much.Having such a friend is a great feeling.What were the foremost topics of the evening? His mission, Institute, and Family. How many dates are like that?

It'll Be Alright

2007-09-12T15:40:00.000-07:00

I have many songs with which I associate, most of them because I hear the lyrics and picture a character from one of my stories that the lyrics work well with. But, there is one song that is completely mine.

This song has been my song since I was fourteen, and it still works perfectly to brighten, inspire, and encourage me each time I tune into its message. Somehow it always seems to come on the radio when I need it most (even when I don't feel like I do).

Jimmy Eat World - The Middle

Hey, don't write yourself off yet
It's only in your head you feel left out
Or looked down on
Just try your best, try everything you can
And don't you worry what they tell themselves
When you're away.

It just takes some time, little girl in the middle of the ride (over, and over)
Everything, everything will be just fine (over, and over) Everything, everything it'll be alright (alright)

Hey, you know they're all the same
You know you're doing better on your own (on your own)
So don't buy in.
Live right now
Yeah, just be yourself.
It doesn't matter if it's good enough
For someone else

It just takes some time, little girl you're in the middle of the ride (over, and over)
Everthing, everything it'll be just fine (over, and over) Everything, everything it'll be alright (alright)
It just takes some time, little girl you're in the middle of the ride (over, and over)
Everything, everything it'll be just fine (over, and over) Everything, everything it'll be alright (alright)

Hey, don't write yourself off yet
It's only in your head you feel left out
Or looked down on
Just do your best, do everything you can.
And don't you worry what the bitter hearts, are gonna say

It just takes some time, little girl you're in the middle of the ride (over, and over)
Everything, everything it'll be just fine (over, and over) Everything, everything it'll be alright (alright).
It just takes some time, little girl you're in the middle of the ride (over, and over)
Everything, everything It'll be just fine (over, and over)
Everything, everything it'll be alright (alright)

And it will.

It's Return

2007-09-09T21:58:00.000-07:00

While I am waiting a few weeks to begin the next draft of Paradise? I know I'd go crazy without something to write. So, I pulled up my rewrite of The Demon's Game, read through it, and got all pumped! So, my next project is decided. Gosh, I've missed this story.

The original finished manuscript lacked something. I felt it even as I finished the last paragraph. It has taken over a year of reflection and pouring over the manuscript before I've realized what exactly was wrong. Now, I've reconstructed the world, building history and culture that never existed. Along with that, I've spent more time on every character. While the center of the story is certainly around Death, Life, Rishay and Jenny White, I now know better than to think they can hold the story up on their own. Characters like Miyoko, Inactoi, and even Leaf Jennings are very important if I want the story to stand.

Once again I have delved into this story, bursting with new ideas and inspiration! Now, this time, I will do it right. Because I can.

Who knew building complex worlds could be so fun?

Novel 2 = Complete

2007-08-31T17:44:00.000-07:00

I have finished Paradise?. My second novel. It is my pet, my baby, and now I've completed it. As one might imagine, my feelings are mixed. I'm terribly sad because I have said farewell to my children, but I'm also incredibly happy because another story is born!

Here's the rundown of its finished state:

Time Completed: August 31, 2007, 6:40 PM
Pages: 347
Word Count: 152,256
Chapters: 60 (including Prologue & Epilogue)
Genre:Fantasy/Adventure/Comedy
Rating: PG
Category: Young Adult

Synopsis:

On his way to school Jason "Key" Sterling, a rather convincing liar, is pushed into a puddle by a rival. He finds himself swept off to a fantastical world called Paradise, where he ends up in the clutches of Crenen, leader of Yenen Clan, who is loaded with sharp, pointy teeth and nefarious schemes.

As "Key" is dragged along with the conniving Crenen against his will, he begins to uncover the truth of his presence in Paradise. He is the chosen one, the Vendaeva, destined to save the Paradisian People from almost certain doom. Along with 'almost certain doom' and a journey of self-discovery, "Key" must unravel the secrets to a world torn by conflict and prejudice, and face a nightmare in the form of...himself?

Along the way he stumbles upon a stranger secret than he ever imagined, and it's about to shatter his reality forever.But there must be some mistake. After all, since when do liars go to Paradise?

The plot was initially created to take elements of archetypal fantasy and throw it together in a mock-up story. As is often the case the story evolved and became its own adventure with many -somehow- lovable characters and deep emotions. It is often random, usually ridiculous, and apparently addictive.

For the next few weeks I will set the story aside, and then I will diligently tackle the next draft. In the meantime; farewell, Paradise.

Window Fettish?

2007-08-29T21:59:00.000-07:00

I don't care if the entire meal center had been depleted, and the cooler was dying, and the fryer was flooding over, and the roasted chickens weren't cooked yet but needed to be, and we had thirty customers in line--

The assistant store director would still get on us about the display windows being dirty! Because, I swear, in his youth something tragic happened in relation to a glass window being dirty.

Now he's obsessed. Tell me, Josh, if the world was ending would I still have to clean the windows?

Of Pseudonyms

2007-08-26T16:34:00.000-07:00

When I was little I had considered a pseudonym for when I became an author. But as I got older, and grew more fond of my name, I decided to stick with what was rightfully mine. Until... it was stolen from me.

And by an AUTHOR no less!!

So, now I must make a decision. Stick with it anyway, or choose one of the following:

Mel Worth - Close, simple, and suited to my fiction, but genderless.
Misa Worth - Unique, simple, but girly.
Hikari - Unique, but hard to remember.
M.H. Worth - Professional, fantasy-ish, but almost cliche.

I've gotten so many different opinions, and now I'm confused. I almost choose one, but then... get confused. Again.

I can only imagine what it'll be like when I have to name my children!

Feel Better?

2007-08-17T20:52:00.000-07:00

The girl sat with her knees against her chest, hugging them tightly as she cried silently. A door closed somewhere else in the house but she ignored it. Only when she heard the gentle knock on her door did she look up.

"Come in," she called in a weak voice.

Her brother opened the door, peeking in. He watched her for a moment, his expression thoughtful, and then he walked across the carpeted floor and sat down beside her. "Wanna talk about it?" he asked.

She sat in silence for a while, and, with a little sniffle, she began, "Today was just really hard..." she trailed off, waiting for his mandatory response to her troubled day. Something like, 'I'm sorry. What happened?'

Instead he laughed humorlessly. "No kidding! It was awful for me too. First, the boss had to do paperwork, and he left me to handle everything by myself..." he went on and on, talking about all the horrible situations at his workplace, ending only after he'd covered all eight hours worth of torture. Then he grinned and stood. "Thanks for listening, sis. I feel tons better." And with that he left.

The girl stared at the door for a while, her wet eyes shocked. Then she scowled. "I guess I should be grateful he was here at all," she mumbled.

---
Everyone is so willing to share, but never to listen. Problem is, if no one listens, who will be heard?

On Falling

2007-08-16T20:32:00.000-07:00

I believe the phrase 'falling in love' is derived from 'having a crush.' Honestly, wouldn't a person rather fly than fall? So, I think those people with their infatuations may fall all they like. Me? I'm waiting to fly.

Words of Comfort

2007-08-13T16:17:00.000-07:00

A friend recently contacted me, asking for counsel and encouragement on an issue she has been facing. While I want to help people, I don't feel adequate to give much advice, and I feel that my words of comfort sound insincere (though they are heartfelt). So, I've taken a new approach. Who better to give advice, counsel, and comfort than the Master himself?

A scripture came to mind, and so I shared it with her.

"Come unto me, all ye that labour and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest. Take my yoke upon you, and learn of me; for I am meek and lowly in heart: and ye shall find rest unto your souls. For my yoke is easy, and my burden is light." Matthew 11:28-30

Could there be any better words of comfort than this?

A Deli Moment

2007-08-07T19:43:00.000-07:00

Boss Lady: "Okay ladies, we're way short on sales today. Know what that means? Comlines! Advertise! I wanna hear you every twenty minutes."
Mel: "Do I have to?"
Boss Lady: "Ya have to."
Mel: "But, that's the one, single, tiny aspect to this job that I don't ever wanna do."
Fellow Employee: "What about breading chicken?"
Mel: "...That too."
Fellow Employee: "Or, how 'bout wogging?"
Mel: "...And that."
Fellow Employee: "And making sandwiches?"
Mel: "...Yeah. Your point?"
Fellow Employee: "...My -point- is that I don't think there's a single aspect to this job that you -do- like."
Me: "Not so! I like--"
Fellow Employee: "Besides your freaking paycheck!!"
Mel: "...You got me, then."

And that, my friends, is why I need a new job.

Qualified For The Work

2007-08-03T22:01:00.000-07:00

"A life that is planned is a closed life.
It can be endured, perhaps.
It cannot be lived."
~The Inn of the Sixth Happiness, 1958, starring Ingrid Bergman.

---
One of the best elements to this amazing movie is the reference to qualification. Ingrid Bergman plays Gladys Aylwood, a woman who wishes to serve a mission in China in the early twentieth century only to to be told that she is "under qualified" for the work. Undeterred for long, she saves up enough money to buy passage to China on her own, where she proceeds to make a difference in a way no one could have imagined.

Proof that one doesn't not need to be "qualified" in the eyes of man to do what needs to be done. If we went only by the view of others, how many great discoveries in this life would have actually occurred? It would be a sad world indeed had the Great Thinkers been turned away from their ideals because they were not "qualified" of men.

"For man looketh on the outward appearance, but the Lord looketh on the heart" (1 Samuel 16:7) "and faith, hope, charity and love, with an eye single to the glory of God, qualify him for the work." (D&C 4:5) So what have we to be worried about?

The best part of the movie is the knowledge that it based on real life events. It's not 'just a movie.' It really happened, and she really did what she did regardless of credentials.

What's stopping us from achieving the same?

Tagged!

2007-08-03T21:49:00.000-07:00

Caught by Ki.
I love these things. :D

4 Jobs I Have Had:

1. Load Dispatcher
2. Nanny
3. Albertsons Deli
4. Amex Call Center

4 Movies I Can Watch Over & Over Again:

1. Mulan
2. Emperor's New Groove
3. Millenium Actress
4. Arsenic and Old Lace

4 Places I Have Lived:

1. Livingston, Montana
2. Fiddletown, California
3. Murray, Utah
4. Farmington, Washington

4 Favorite TV Shows:

1. Stargate: Atlantic
2. Kung Fu
3. Star Trek
4. ...?

4 Of My Favorite Places That I Have Been:

1. Northern Idaho Mountains
2. Montana
3. Lagoon
4. Other worlds (in my dreams)

4 Favorite Foods:

1. Curry Rice
2. Pizza
3. Italian (especially Johnny Carino's nachos!)
4. Deviled Eggs

4 Favorite Websites I Check Daily
1. DeviantART.com
2. Joyfoot.blogspot.com
3. HomeStarRunner.com
4. Google.com

4 Favorite Hobbies:

1. Writing
2. Reading
3. Drawing
4. Tennis

4 Places I Would Rather Be (or that I want to go to):

1. Japan
2. Germany
3. Chicago
4. Sleeping

4 Friends I Would Like To Tag.....Tag You're It!

1. .
2. ..
3. ...
4. I have no friends (at least, that haven't already been tagged :D )!!

Meet T-chan

2007-08-01T15:21:00.000-07:00

This is T-chan. Short for Tortuga.
She's over 25 years old. And counting.

She likes to bite toes (or try, anyway).
I should feed her more. She might then stop.

One of the coolest, yet freakiest things about T-chan is that when you look in her eyes...you just somehow know that she's more intelligent than you'll ever be.

It's rather humbling.

Back!!

2007-07-30T19:28:00.000-07:00

Back from camping. It was priceless. My younger brother even caught a water snake. Too bad we couldn't keep it.

Read Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows on the trip. I took my time, as I knew it was the last one.

I. Loved. It.

Except the epilogue. I didn't -hate- the epilogue, nor was it the most fitting end. Could have been worse, but I think next time through the book, I'll stop just before that bit. I'll like it more that way.

At long last!!

2007-07-19T21:28:00.000-07:00

I'm going camping! It's been, what, two years? ...Yes. Two years since my last real camping trip, and that was even only over night. This time, my entire family (minus my sister on a mission in New York) will be on vacation in Northern Idaho for an entire week.

I am uber excited! A week without work; without stress; without horrendous traffic; barking dogs; polite sirens. A whole week of true wilderness sounds intead. And, as an added bonus, an entire week of EVERYONE in my family reading Harry Potter 7. It will truly be paradise.

Now, the only things I have to do before leaving are:

1. Clean the apartment (so I don't loathe coming back so much).
2. Pack lightly but effectively (and find a way to bring a computer for writing with, somehow...)
3. Leave my turtle enough to eat for a week.
4. Buy both my parents birthday presents.
5. Pick up Harry Potter 7.

Not too bad a list. Paying bills would be up there, but I didn't procrastinate and actually paid them on time. How's that for productive? Oh yeah. Last, but most important on the list:

6. Survive one final day of work this week.

I can do this.

'Cept maybe bring the computer. But I'll still write in my novel next week, somehow.

Welcome to the Real World

2007-07-10T17:34:00.000-07:00

Apparently the Real World is only your reality after you've dived into a mountain of debt. Well, here I am! And, lemme tell you, it's not all they say it is. It's worse. But, I really can't complain. My newly acquired debt was hardly optional, and while now money issues seem to have increased, at least a former stress has been alleviated.

My car broke down. Well, more accurately my brother's did. And, aftering investing in a carburator for my own vehicle, which did little good (as the real problem with the car is a mystery even to Dodge experts), I was stranded and forced to purchase something new.

Well, not new-new, but used-new. I took out a loan and everything. The payments aren't bad, but as my Mom said, "You've sold your soul. How do you feel?"

My response? "Like a prisoner, sentenced to five years."

The car is nice, considering. It's a 2002 Ford Escort; pretty shade of blue; excellent condition. The damage? $8000+. It'll be a while before I feel free. But, I'm refusing to stress about it. Honestly, it was all I could do. My brother's car was a nightmare even before it quit. My mysteriously-malfunctioning Dodge was... mysteriously malfunctioning. This is a good trade, methinks. Besides, better that my money goes into something worthwhile than a whole bunch of fast food runs. I'll stay thin.

Still, the Real World isn't much fun. It seems that the saying is very true: "The grass is always greener..." If only we could have figured that out before we grew up.

Spirit

2007-07-03T21:15:00.000-07:00

Years of Sweat
And Pride that’s Unrivaled
Many Tears unlet
Strength not to be stifled.

Loyal to Country
Though closer to God
Creator of History
In Paths yet untrod.

Symbol of Bravery
Greatness of Will
Opposing all Slavery
With a Sword made of Steel.

Clear is the Mind
Honest the Heart
True to his bind
To the Land from its Start.

Willing to Die
For all that is Right
All Evil defy
Freedom’s Flame to ignite.

A figure of Freedom
Willing to Serve—
With a Banner, an Emblem
—Others lives to preserve.

This Being of Earth
Is a Warrior of Merit
He’s the symbol of Worth:
The American Spirit.

---
Happy Birthday, America.
July 4 1776

Ah! the joy of it all.

2007-07-03T16:25:00.000-07:00

What joy do I speak of?

Being young. Being single. Being poor.

Gotta love it.

Honestly, it's not all bad, I rather like being young and single. However, that last bit--being poor--rather overwhelms the rest. It's sad. I would love to have a little extra cash now and then--wouldn't we all?

It's fine though. Money isn't everything, and one can do plenty without funds if one gets creative enough. Like: writing. A great means of entertaining oneself without spending. If only I had more time to do it.

Ah well. Someday, ne?

Equivalent Exchange

2007-06-30T15:05:00.000-07:00

I consider myself an avid, but sensible anime fan. I won't watch anything just to say that I have. So, before giving anything a try, I research it thoroughly on the Web. If the story/characters/morals/etc seem unique and interesting enough, I'm willing to give it a shot.

Of course, usually I end up setting it aside, or just watching it 'in my spare time' because it falls short of its potential (which drives me crazy!) or, even worse, it leads up so well toward the climax, only to fall on its face.

There have been few exceptions, I'm sad to say. Most anime and manga series disappoint. Even those that end decently often forget to address several important underlying themes. As a writer, this irks me the most.

So, why do I bring this up? Because there is one anime, at least, that does not disappoint. It does not cater to the fans. It does not sidestep issues or apologize for anything. It steadily climbs upward, ending in a bittersweet, yet truly satisfactory way.

Full Metal Alchemist.

After the loss of their mother, two alchemically-skilled brothers attempt the forbidden science of human transmutation to bring her back to life. But what they don't understand is the rule of equivalent exchange: To obtain, something of equal value must be lost. After nearly dying, these brothers have lost most everything; the older, his arm and leg, the younger, his body. Now, one with metal limbs, and the other trapped in a suit of armor, they have only one goal: To find the Philosopher's Stone and get their bodies back to normal. But they aren't the only ones after the red stone.

This series has taken the title of 'greatest anime of all time', and for good reason. This story doesn't back down. If future series can learn from this one, anime may yet survive. Otherwise its fans will eventually have to accept and admit that there's nothing new to see. The same story has been done time and time again.

How is Full Metal Alchemist different?

As I said before, it doesn't apologize. The characters struggle with moral issues; each having to decide whether the end truly justifies the means. Each character has an ultimate goal. Each character has feelings, a story. And it's not all tragic either. This series shows life: all its ups and down (even if it is on a more explosive scale). It doesn't deal solely with action, but with people.

Death. That is the issue most often addressed. And what could be more poignant? As mortals, we all have brushes with death. We have all seen it, we will all experience it. To some, it is a fear, to others, a relief.

With Full Metal Alchemist, anime reached new heights. This series defied the rules and broke free. It is more than entertainment. It is a true epic journey--one that, if you allow, will change your perspective, or make it even more firmly set.

The story drives you. Touches you. Teaches you. It's an inspiring journey where you can experience laughter, regret, sadness, love, and tears. The protagonist doesn't have all the answers, and he isn't always right. That is the nature of us all. We're all on a journey to discover ourselves and our purpose.

This story will definitely stay with you long after its end. Because it doesn't just entertain the mind; it talks to the heart.

--M.W.
review 1st draft

Perception

2007-06-28T21:55:00.000-07:00

Stop for a moment
And consider.

The person beside you
Or just out of view
Is a person who thinks
And considers, like you.

Just down the road
Is a person who roams
While you're safe and warm
In your comfortable home.

And high up above
In that skyscraper tall
Or far down below
In that subway's long hall—

Everywhere that you go
Every way that you turn
Someone else has a thought
A desire that burns.

For each hope of yours
Someone else prays
For each passing fancy
Another's life fades.

In each act of mercy
Or every cruel deed
Is another's love deepened
Or an unfulfilled need.

We all have feelings
High hopes and dreams
Each person's a child
In life's moving stream.

So stop and consider
The choices you make
And whether your actions
Are sincere or are fake.

You aren't alone
We're all here together
Each life more important
Than we can merit or measure.

Yesterday's over
And Tomorrow is never
Today is what matters
Now and Forever.

So hurry and move
Remember to care
Before it's too late
To answer a Prayer.

--M.W.

It's more fun that way!

2007-06-28T14:58:00.000-07:00

A while back, at work, we had something like com-line competitions. As soon as my department advertised some new special, the butcher block jumped on and tried to be as creative in their advertising bit. This continued on, neither side winning, until suddenly Produce came on and totally whooped us both. We laughed and applauded their creativity.

Now, com-line competitions have turned into all-out inter-com warfare. Everytime either Produce or the butcher block jumps on, we don't wait five seconds to take our turn and make it better.

It's rather amusing, if juvenile.

We probably have more fun on our com-lines than any other store around.

Nearly Complete

2007-06-24T16:46:00.000-07:00

The writing block decided to finally desist, and so I'm back on tracking, typing away the last few chapters of PARADISE? With so little left to write, I find it challenging to tie in all the plot elements I've laid out. I keep going back to certain parts, making certain I haven't contradicted myself, and also to make sure I've answered all the questions. This is the hardest part; I can't drag the book out too long or make it end to abruptly. Finding the balance while making certain every issue is addressed and dealt with is very difficult.

Still, I'm very excited. With its conclusion begins the daunting, yet satisfying task of editing and polishing the book. It isn't a long book; only 300 pages at the most. But it's the best 300 pages I've ever written, of that I'm certain. While I know future novels that I write will be better than this, it is only because of this, and so I am happy.

As I reveal the final secrets in the close of this fantasy novel, I laugh at how complex it has become. At first this was only a side project; one that aided me when writers' block reared its ugly head. I had no real direction, no definite plot. Now, one year and 300 pages later, I wonder how it grew so much. There is much left to be done; the next draft will be a brutal one. Every unnecessary element will be eliminated mercilessly, and parts that should have been, but weren't, will take the place of those unimportant moments. Whether the book's length will shrink or increase, it will be for the best.

I never thought I was writing a Young Adult book, but apparently I have been without realizing it. I just wrote, letting the characters lead me along on a journey of discovery; both for me and for them. What an adventure it has been! And, with its ever-nearing end, I cry fond tears. How fun it has been, and will be. When all is said and done, I will bid these new friends farewell, but each time I want to see them again, all I have to do is pick up the book and begin the journey anew.

Writers Block

2007-06-22T23:12:00.000-07:00

Like a disease, it struck. Now it won't go away.

There's only one story that seems to have been able to evade the virus that has eaten away the progression of all other projects. The bad part is that this story wasn't even started before the block struck. Now, when I finally get my creative juices flowing again, I'll have added another project to my ever-increasing list.

But, it's better than not writing at all right now.

Is there something on my face?

2007-06-20T11:31:00.000-07:00

...It can't be that, because even on the internet I run into the same thing.

What am talking about?

Yesterday a woman came to the counter of my work place and ordered a chicken meal. This is far from uncommon, but when she spoke with me, I was: Sweetheart, hun, and--in closing--doll. She's not the first to refer to me as these. In fact, nearly half the people I serve, along with others at church, or on the street, both friend and stranger, call me some endearing name like "hun."

I asked a fellow associate if I had something written on my face that stood out more than my nametag. She just laughed.

While I don't hate such names, it always catches me offguard when everyone calls me by one of them. I just don't feel suited for them. A few more such endearing titles include: Miss, missie, love, darling, sweetie, and cutey. I've been called each of these more than once.

Do I really look so innocent?

But it's also the internet, where people can't see my face or hear my voice. Where they don't know me very well. Yet, while many of them are younger than I and don't refer to others in the same manner, I am still "hun" or "sweetie."

Apparently I am quite good at trickery. I've got the whole world deceived.

Nifty-ness!

2007-06-16T19:52:00.000-07:00

See that nifty new banner up there at the top? Beautimus, isn't it? My good friend Angie did it for me, and I'm eternally grateful. It's so pretty!! <3

The Infamous Entrance of Crenen

2007-06-14T21:49:00.000-07:00

While I have always tried to make my characters unique and memorable, never before as it come about in such an explosive manner as when Crenen makes his infamous entrance. Before introducing him, Paradise? had yet to find its direction, and while the plot would have survived without Crenen, it just wouldn't be the same, yeah? ;)

I give you Crenen! ...'Nuff said.

---
As I leaped over bushes and ducked under low-hanging branches, I didn't notice the snapping of twigs above me, or the shadows that followed both beside me and above. I blame my loudly beating heart on my poor observation skills.

Suddenly a dark form landed before me, and I skidded to a halt. My lungs burned from lack of air and my legs trembled with exhaustion. I squinted in the forest gloom to see what blocked my path. The flicker of sharp, grinning teeth filled me with dread; Jenen had caught me.

The slight crunch of undergrowth informed me that I was surrounded. There was more than one. Glancing around, I caught the glimmer of more pearly-white fangs in the dark. My heart was thundering in my chest. I was going to die — just for calling Jenen a girl.

The figure before me stepped closer. I stepped back. The forms around me moved in, cutting off any possible escape. That left me just one option. Falling to my knees, I cupped my hands, and bowed my head.

”Please don't kill me,” I begged, my eyes squeezed shut in preparation for anything.

I felt the figure hesitate, filling the gloom with awkward silence. And then it burst out laughing; an evil cackle. Not Jenen then. I felt a clawed hand touch my chin and force my head up. I carefully opened my eyes. It was still too dark to make out the figure's features.

"Tell us,” the clawed hand found my shoulder, digging in until I winced, “where is Sick Nasty Dog?”

Who? I decided I’d better ask out loud. “Who?”

“Sick Nasty Dog!” the figure repeated, sounding agitated. Judging from the voice I would have guessed it to be a boy, but I was starting to second-guess my guesses by now. “Where is Sick Nasty Dog? You answer us now!” Agitated was putting it lightly if his clawed grip told me anything of his mood.

As my panicked mind raced with visions of death, I decided to take a wild guess. “Sick Nasty Dog?”

“Yeah,” the figure growled, still grinning. Perhaps his smile was permanent.

“I left Sick Nasty Dog back at the fire.” A surge of guilt went through my stomach. After everything Jenen had done for me — but hadn't he been about to kill me anyway? Besides, chances were he wasn’t their prey. And this was just a dream.

“Go check fire,” he barked at a comrade.

His English was decidedly bad.

“You sit, Strange Coward Boy,” he addressed me then.

Strange? I had definitely been called strange. Cowardly? Maybe. Boy? That was going too far. I clenched my fist, prepared to defend my manhood, but upon glancing at his claws once more, I decided sitting was a very healthy choice at the moment. I sat.

“Who are you people?” I ventured, hoping I wouldn’t be slashed to bits for speaking out of turn.

“We?” the figure (obviously in charge) asked, smiling crookedly. “We are the Order of Crenen.”

Order? Great. Just great. I just had to think it, didn’t I? Curious, I peered at the figure to see if he had a shawl. From what little light remained I saw nothing like one. “'Crenen'? What’s that?”

A deep growl welled up from the forms standing in the shadows. I gulped.

“I am Crenen, Strange Coward Boy,” the leader stated, kneeling in front of me to meet my gaze. “Remember that, yeah?”

“Yeah,” I repeated with a humble nod.

“Excellent.” He clapped me on the back and stood once more.

The scout returned then and bowed to him. Then he whispered in his ear, and Crenen’s frightening eyes narrowed. He snapped his fingers and two more figures stepped from the shadows. They took position on either side of me, and heaved me to my aching feet. “Sick Nasty Dog not at fire. Tell us, Strange Coward Boy, tell us where Sick Nasty Dog is, yeah?”

I knew the consequences for being ignorant would not be pretty, but what could I say? Honestly, if Jenen wasn’t at the fire, how could I know his location any better than they?

But saying nothing promised pain as well.

“I don’t know where he is now. I left him at the fire. If he moved how could I possibly know?”

Crenen observed me for a moment, as though contemplating. “Very well.”

I breathed a sigh of relief — too early.

“Strange Coward Boy’s use has run dry as village well. Kill.” He turned away.

“W-wait a minute!” I cried out, raising my hand to block the blow.

Crenen turned around and raised his brow. “Yes, Strange Coward Boy?”

“Why kill me?”

“You heard. Your use is dry like empty cloud.”

“Yeah, I heard that part,” I whispered, trying to bite back a retort about his mix-up in phrases.

“Tell us, Strange Coward Boy, why you run from Sick Nasty Dog?” He leaned close to my face and looked into my eyes deeply. I realized his eyes were like Jenen’s, then; one silver, one gold.

“Well, I…” My cheeks flushed. “I called him a girl.”

Silence reigned over the small clearing for a full minute, and then Crenen burst into laughter. It was an almost insane laugh, malicious, yet delighted. I managed a weak smile until he quieted down.

“Sick Nasty Girl, yeah?” He burst into fits of laughter once again.

Everyone else in the group seemed as uncomfortable as I felt.

“You funny one, Strange Coward Boy. Too bad you must die.” He clapped my back again. “Kill.”

---
Excerpt from Paradise?
Chapter Three: The Order of Crenen

Formajn's First Day

2007-06-13T14:31:00.000-07:00

Here's the link to FFD, per a-certain-someone's request. ;)
Formajn's First Day

Hope you enjoy!!

Gotta love it!

2007-06-13T14:08:00.000-07:00

I love drama.

No, seriously! Real-life drama is more entertaining than any comedy movie. Maybe at the time you hear/experience/witness the drama it's not so great, but thinking back, those things are FUNNY if you let them be. The problem with drama is that without the intensity of the moment it seems ridiculously, well, dramatic.

I guess it's good that I love drama. It makes loving people much easier (including myself)!

My philosophy: It's much easier to enjoy life if you try and get a kick out of it.

PARADISE?

2007-06-10T22:43:00.000-07:00

Prologue
The Liar

She was hysterical, and her tears blinded her vision. Her tires dug into the pavement as she swerved around sharp curves on the mountain road. Hard rock music blared from her speakers, coinciding with her hurt and anger.

Viciously she wiped at the tears shimmering in her deep blue eyes. Still they fell, and she rubbed at them again. In the moment she took her hands from the wheel that the car hit a deep pothole and jerked wildly toward the right. The front of the vehicle slammed against the guardrail, tearing through the metal with a loud screech; the car hovered in the air for a moment, but then it dropped. The woman screamed as she plummeted toward the creek bed far below.

She did not survive.

Which really doesn't matter as this story isn't about her—thank goodness. Though I must admit it would be entertaining to fall from such a height. At least, up until the part where one actually crashed into the water. That might not be so enjoyable. Unless of course one is a masochist, which, I hope, one is not. Or was not, seeing as how one is dead now.

Moving on...

Hi there; I'm Key. Pleasure. You're probably asking, ”What kind of a name is Key?” Trust me, you'll think it pretty normal by the end of my story in comparison with a few others... Of course my proper name is Jason Sterling, but I prefer Key. As do my friends.

I want you to know here and now: I am a huge liar. Nearly everything I say is a lie. (Though the fact I almost always lie could be a lie, and you'd never know. Especially since liars always lie, which means they lie about lying, but because it's a lie that doesn't really work, and you get all jumbled up trying to figure out exactly what I'm talking about and why. Not to mention why you are even attempting to understand the mind of a lying liar who doesn't not lie about lying or not.)

Now that we've covered that, I want to commend you. You obviously haven't stopped reading yet, and that means some twisted part of you actually gets amusement from reading what I have to think. I'm impressed you comprehend me, or at least, you're making a good effort.

My mom once said my favorite pastime, aside from lying, was making long rants that made very little sense. I could be lying. Maybe she didn't say that, but you can decide for yourself whether or not to disbelieve me. I don't mind either way.

I just want you to know one more thing. Read on at your own peril.

Shall we begin?

---
The prologue to PARADISE? I think it rather sets the mood, but some people won't read it after this because they think it's too morbid—which I actually find even more amusing.

Mutiny!

2007-06-07T20:54:00.000-07:00

It has been my experience that no matter how much I say "No!" my characters will inevidably proceed to disregard my ideas and take charge. The worst part is that when the characters do this the story ends up better than I could have imagined. It wounds my pride to recognize that my characters know better than me.

Somehow, when I don't plan so thoroughly, letting the characters have free reign to explode into hyper tangents, it brings the story to new levels of depth. When I try and force the story to stay on course, it kills the flow and destroys the enjoyment of writing. I've tried several experiments and it remains true. The previous novel I wrote (The Demon's Game) was forced to stay true to my notes and ended up falling short of its potential, but Paradise? wasn't supposed to be a serious project. It was an extra, but by letting it write itself however it pleased, it somehow mutated into something grand. The characters therein take all the credit.

I've learned not to argue.

That's one sign...

2007-06-06T18:06:00.000-07:00

I've spent far too much time with food. First KFC, now a deli. And it shows, too. Anyone who can speak with food as though holding a two-way conversation, even making it sound intelligent, has issues. I can't count the times I've told those chicken legs to stop behaving like wings every time they fly off the pan. And those wings? I have to keep reminding them that if in life they couldn't fly, death wasn't going to make it any different.

"Speaking to your food is a sign of insanity, you know. Isn't that right, food?"

Is this a good sign? Probably not, but I don't see too much harm. It certainly amuses me, if no one else. Still, the more I converse with the food the more determined I am to get out of the food industry altogether. Especially since the food tends to listen to me a whole lot better than anyone I work with. That is just sad.

One thing seems certain, I doubt if I'll ever enjoy eating chicken again. Or meat in general. There are some jobs one should never work if they don't want to end up being vegetarian.

For Thy Good

2007-06-05T20:41:00.000-07:00

Yesterday was quite the emotional roller coaster. The ups and downs were constantly shifting in absolute extremes. By the end of the day, however, I found myself sobbing in my Dad's arms, somehow having reverted back to a nine-year-old child.

I guess the stress of rent money, and a nearly broken car, along with too few, and very inconsistant hours at a difficult job, and then when my Dad finally gets a chance to visit I don't get to spend time with him because of said inconsistant hours, and the free time I do have is spent helping him attend to business... I guess it all just crashed down on me at once. Or something.

You see, I love my Dad. I can talk to him about anything, and fear no snide remark, or indifferent attitude. He takes everything I say with a calm, gentle seriousness. I haven't had that lately (and talking on the phone doesn't cut it) because he's a truck driver, and when he gets time off, naturally he visits the family back in Idaho.

I got so excited to see him when he came to my apartment late Sunday night, but I had to go to work early the next morning, so I couldn't talk too long. Then, only a few hours after getting off work on Monday, it was time to say goodbye. All the day long I had struggled to stay cheerful and energetic at work, and while I succeeded there, by the time I got home I was totally emotionally drained.

Add into the equation that I got pulled over by a cop for not signaling (which I couldn't, because the signaler just broke a few days back) Monday night, and... well, when my Dad was walking out the door I just broke down and sobbed. Mostly, I didn't want him to leave. I wanted my Dad.

So what did he do?

He took me gently to the couch, sat me down, and listened. That was all. For two hours I poured out my heart to him. I explained my frustrations, stresses, hurts, confusion, anger, awkwardness, and EVERYTHING that has been building up inside for months. I told him things I hadn't even realized were buried beneath my cheerful exterior. By the time the tears had semi-dried, he had only shown me love, consideration, and a father's gentle affection. It was amazing. I love my Dad.

He gave me a blessing of strength and endurance, which I will give my all to fulfill.

After he finally left I cried for hours. Today I still feel like crying, but his selfless love last night has already made everything so much less daunting, so much less important. I still feel sad, a bit depressed, and very overwhelmed, but it will be okay. Somehow, with my Dad's love, and also the love of the Lord, I can overcome all obstacles, and I will be a better person for it.

"All these things shall give thee experience, and shall be for thy good." D&C 122:7

I thank my Father in Heaven every night for my Dad, as well as for my Mom, and all the other good examples I have in my life. Without them I would be lost.

Obsession

2007-06-01T17:57:00.000-07:00

"Moderation in all things."

That's my mom's favorite piece of advice, and wise words they are. There's just one problem. While I can attempt to balance all aspects of my life, one seems to outweigh all others even still. And, it's not just writing. No. It's the characters in my writing.

To me, the most enjoyable process of storytelling is the slow unveiling of a character's mystery. Creating entire lifetimes for people in whole new worlds; creating means by which they feel the way they do. It's a beautiful thing, creation.

I love to take aspects of myself, and others around me, and blend them into characters; good and bad traits alike. I love to balance a character; give them meaningful reasons for the way they are. While I believe in a true good and evil, I also believe that in this life there are shades of gray. Occassionally I create solid black or white motives, but most often I try to give each character a solid, sympathetic reason behind their actions. It makes the story more alive, more believeable, more inspiring.

Can you tell I'm obsessed? Moderation be hanged (not really). I will create new characters forever!

I love my characters. They are my children, and I love them. Mostly, I love to torment them.

Mightier than the sword...

2007-05-31T22:44:00.000-07:00

I can't write by hand; keyboard or nothing. It's not that I'm against handwriting my stories--it's that I can't get my thoughts down fast enough with a pen.

So, the keyboard is mighter than the sword.
...Sorta.

The Real Root

2007-05-29T23:03:00.000-07:00

They say money is the root of all evil.

I beg to differ.

It is our reliance on money that is the root of most evil.

My mom once said that no matter how much money a person makes, they seem to quickly adapt and spend accordingly. In most cases this means just barely making ends meet. We live just within our means. The billionaires buy mansions and pay heavy taxes. The middle-class own large houses and have just one kid (if any), but have to maintain two mortgages to pull through. The rest of us buy $500 cars and still can't afford outrageous gas prices (not to mention car maintanence).

Reliance? Yes. Very much so.

Of course, this is only a generalization. There are exceptions (thankfully), but you get the idea.

D-R-A-M-A

2007-05-28T17:02:00.000-07:00

I work in a deli. Certainly not my first pick of the crop, understandably. Still after two months I finally know what I'm doing there, so it's isn't as horribly torturous as it first promised to be. There is one problem though. The entire service deli crew/staff/whatever-you-call-them is made up of women. Yikes. You can see how this might pose a problem?

D-R-A-M-A
G-O-S-S-I-P
B-A-C-K B-I-T-I-N-G
M-I-S-U-N-D-E-R-S-T-A-N-D-I-N-G-S
And then some.

Some days, it just isn't pretty. I try and avoid the main conflict. Thus far I've succeeded. I don't care about gossip, I don't let things 'ruffle my feathers,' and I always doublecheck things to make sure I don't misunderstand. I just hope that lasts.

Today, the employee who has worked in the deli longer than anyone else (11 years!) threatened to quit because she and the assistant manager had a small spat over labels. I doubt it was just labels. It seems to go waaaay back--this was just an excuse to finally vent their frustrations on each other.

I thought I was through with drama when I graduated. It seems, however, some people never really leave high school behind them. Ah well. I don't really mind; if anything I find it humorous (in a sadistic sense, probably). I'll just take this situation, learn from it, and try to avoid one of my own conflicts in the future.

It's decided...

2007-05-23T19:58:00.001-07:00

I like Mel better than Misa. Mostly. So it's back to that, for now.

"Can't she make up her mind?!"

No... 'Fraid not. ^^

Random Musings

2007-05-19T18:30:00.000-07:00

"The whole world wants to be paid for its knowledge, but what if I said I would pay you for my knowledge? ... You're right. That would be crazy."

"I'd change my mind, but I've lost the other one."

"I'm a part-time thinker and the hours suck."

"I am an open book! You just can't read my language."

"I don't suffer from creative insomnia, I enjoy every minute of it!
—Wait.
...Okay, yeah. I suffer."

"I want you to know here and now: I am a huge liar. Nearly everything I say is a lie. (Though the fact I almost always lie could be a lie, and you'd never know. Especially since liars always lie, which means they lie about lying, but because it's a lie that doesn't really work, and you get all jumbled up trying to figure out exactly what I'm talking about and why. Not to mention why you are even attempting to understand the mind of a lying liar who doesn't not lie about lying or not.)" ==Jason "Key" Sterling

---
All quotes from above (minus the last) are sayings I've contrived in random moments of random thought. I'll add more later, me thinks...

A day in the life of Jason "Key" Sterling...

2007-05-18T22:06:00.001-07:00

---
I was the type of high schooler who always fell asleep in class. My days wore away while I napped; at my desk, at the lunch table, on the bus (when I actually rode it) and under the old oak in my backyard (though not when it was snowing outside).

I desperately wanted those days back. The days when I could sleep.

The weariness I had collected over the last two weeks seemed to have caught up with me, since I did not wake up as the servant scrubbed me clean, toweled me dry, dressed me, and hauled me back to the good doctor's bed.

It wasn't until my hand flared with pain that my eyes snapped open and I gasped loudly. A few blinks of my eyes and the doctor came into focus, her mouth twisted in a sardonic smile.

“Sleep well?” she asked as she pulled more of the bandage (which had managed to stick very firmly to my wounds) away from my hand.

“Yeah, while it lasted,” I snapped even as I winced. “Where's Crenen?”

“There,” she said, pointing to a chair by the fire.

I squinted and just made out the sleeping form of my captor.

---
An excerpt from my novel PARADISE?
I was reading it, and thought I'd share.
Thanks for reading.

Minutes to Midnight

2007-05-16T17:02:00.000-07:00

Purchased Linkin Park's newest album today. It was something of a disappointment, but a few of the songs were well worth the investment. Still, in most ways it doesn't shine so brightly as its predecessors. Ah well. Maybe it will grow on me.

Count to Ten

2007-05-16T16:55:00.000-07:00

I have a temper. It's not explosive (very often) but it's dangerous anyway. Strange things annoy me; something someone says in passing might stick with me for days until I vent it somehow. It's not often that I get mad, but when I do it's VERY bad. I don't like when that happens. I fume for days, ranting to whoever might listen. The worst part is that usually what angers me is nothing important.

I'm getting better. I keep telling myself that it's not really important. Which is true. And it's finally starting to sink in. I've lost my temper less and less. Ya know, counting to ten really does help, if you let it. It's actually pride that causes a raging torrent of emotions to pour down on unexpecting victims.

I feel very foolish after I lose my temper. So why keep doing it? It's only embarrassing. Nothing gets better for it. So, someway, I will stop. Anger. Frustration. Those things are ugly, and I don't like feeling ugly.

Mel vs Misa

2007-05-10T08:42:00.000-07:00

I've always shortened my name to Mel. A part of me liked it, but it just didn't seem quite right. The other day my mom mentioned Misa (Mee-sa). Its soft, fluid, cute sound appealed very strongly to the part inside of me that was less fond of Mel. So, I've switched from Mel to Misa, for now. We will have to see how long that lasts.

A Cycle

2007-05-10T08:37:00.000-07:00

As I come near to finishing another novel, I feel bittersweet emotions raging inside of me. At times I feel an overpowering desire to finish! To finally complete what I have set out to accomplish. And other times I feel hesitant, because I don't want to say goodbye to these new friends of mine. Of course, finishing the novel isn't the end; I still must edit and rewrite, delete and add. But, the discovery of new people, the making of new worlds... Soon another adventure in another realm will have ended. It will be time for tearful farewells with these characters I have grown to love like children.

But with this coming end, starts a new beginning.

The Telling Theme of Life

2007-04-28T12:55:00.000-07:00

It seems that no matter how much I attempt to set The Demon's Game aside temporarily, I always end up coming back to it. True, now I'm working on another story that is equally important, but TDG remains constantly in my thoughts. I think part of the reason for that it the potential depth of its characters. While my last draft didn't tap into its full potential as I wanted it to, I now know where I went wrong (mostly) so it shouldn't be too difficult to make this rewriting go where the other write didn't bother. I'm a lot braver now than then. It's time to take TDG where none of my stories have gone before! ...Yeah.

Every story I've pursued writing (and eventually dropped) had a specific theme, a moral point I wanted to discuss with the readers. The Demon's Game was always different. While Star Lord spoke of prejudice and its vices, and Jiyu: Freedom Fighters touched on freedom, The Demon's Game spoke about life; its up and downs, its highs and lows. No specific moral issue was addressed, and without that theme I could take it anywhere. In learning this, I tore down my other stories to their basic plots, and I'm slowly building them again with the simple telling theme of life. This way the reader can come away from it, having gotten whatever it was they wanted to take with them, not just a vague idea of what I had in mind to say. If I want to deliver a message to the world through my writing, the best way of doing so is by allowing the characters to deal with life and make their own discovery, coming to their own conclusions. I can only tell of their adventure, not spew ethics.

Story telling is not an essay on one subject. It's the exploration of life and everything in it.

Such Is Life

2007-04-24T10:44:00.000-07:00

Work, eat, sleep. And the occasional chance to write. It's almost depressing to think all the hours I put into a pointless job only gives me barely enough money to live on, while the thrilling moments of writing give me little compensation by the world's standards. Still, writing is my life and its rewards are great. I just wish I had more time for those moments.

Of Fantasy

2007-04-15T10:08:00.000-07:00

The reason that there are so many fantasies based on archetypal themes is very simple. We love the traditional themes of dragons, knights-in-shining-armor, faeries, elves, magic, prophecy. We all crave that same fairytale, happily-ever-after story. So we write it. Every fantasy novelist wants to attempt the over-done traditional story. And why not?

In seeking a book we seek something we will enjoy. But we also seek originality; there is no such thing as originality, however. What we fail to realize is that there is no story which can be made completely separate and individual from the rest, because we all live in this life and we're all living the same story (birth, life, death). So all a writer can do is seek out the most important elements of traditional fantasy and BRING THEM TO LIFE. Originality isn't the basics of the plot or structure. It's the voice that tells the old anew.

After Such Silence

2007-04-15T00:39:00.000-07:00

I've had a blog account since '05, but I always tend to neglect things after the newness has worn away. Still, somethings I end up returning to. Like this. So, here I am, back at the blog. Perhaps it's because I love the word 'blog' so much. (I just enjoy saying it.) Who knows?

I am a writer. I hope to soon claim the title 'novelist' but sometimes life tends to have different plans than I (and it's more often that way than not). Still, I continually strive for that achievement, and life's knocks won't get me down for long. Eventually one of my works is bound to be published, one way or another. In the meantime, I learn. Isn't that how life should be anyway?

Perhaps the reason I like blogs (aside from the name) is that I am speaking with myself. Sort of. Considering that I'm actually typing this, and saying nothing aloud. Anyway, this typing gives me time to meditate and set my thoughts in stone (figuratively speaking, of course.)