Lateness.

Okay, so just remembered that I was supposed to start my new blog thingy this week. Oops. Sorry. My apologies. So, I'm not gonna try and catch up or anything, just gonna jump in and do it. #turndownforwhat <--- ignore the random hashtag that's a song...

Tips this week is on writing. Specifically, on writing/editing my short stories. Ideally, this is how it would go:

Write the story. Don't think about it unless you have to. 

Spell check.

Take a 5 to 10 minute break. 

Do a quick skim, fixing any small mistakes I find. 

Read through again very intensely and trying to find mistakes. 

Underneath that, retype the whole thing, rewriting any parts that don't feel right, adding anything that feels more natural or adds emotion. 

Read through new version, trying to add small details here and there to give the story realism. 

Read through one more time, as a reader or editor, just trying to read the story as if it's not mine. 

So, that is how I do the writing process of my short stories if I have time. If I'm rushing to put together a blogpost, it looks a little more like this:

Write story.

Spell check.

Quick skim.

Look for mistakes. 

Rewrite a few parts where it doesn't feel right. 

Obviously, this won't work for every one, but I encourage you to try it, and if you do it differently, tell me about it in the comments! I want my comment section to be a place of conversation, arguments, encouragement, and tips! Just anything is amazing though. (If you made it this far in the post, comment with your favorite kind of soda. Woot.)

So, thanks everyone! Have a splendid rest of your Tuesday, and I'll see you on Friday or Saturday! 

Elsie

Still trying to figure out a not lame signature. 

(If you see this comment with "waffles and bacon")

Eye to the soul.

This was my brother's idea but I took and edited the pics. Enjoy! 

Mirror chapter 4

I know, finally. I've been posting more photos than writing lately. Sorry. Life is crazy lately. And taking pictures in the midst of that is easier than writing. So, it's short and not very good, but here's the next chapter. 

Chapter 4

I walk back to my chambers. Changing into my riding gear for a ride with King Saber, the young ruler of Scould. My father wishes me to marry him, and I do not know if I can. I pull on brown leather gloves and don a lacy navy blue riding gown. I put my hair up so it will not get in my face while I ride.

 I walk down my hallway, out of,my room and past Willows chambers, then the King’s. I smile Samuel standing by the door, attentive and alert. 

“Hello, Samuel.” I say, my smile wide once again as I try not to think of King Saber. I take a deep breath, working up the courage to ask him to spend time with me, but the wooden doors behind him open and MacArthur escorts my father out. He glances at Samuel, then at me.

“Hello Daughter.” His voice so calm, but there is none of the excitement that there was in years past. I smile a little, but my real joy is gone. 

“Hello.” I curtsy. “Be thee well?” My voice shakes, and I hope beyond hope that he does not mention Saber. 

incompetent girl. Everyone in this putrid kingdom knows of King Saber. The King nods.

“Wgere are you going to?” He asks.

“King Saber has invited me to ride when he arrives.” My father nods.

“Good, good.” I resist the urge to slap him and take a deep breath. 

He is your father. My voice says.

I know. I know. 

~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~

I stand outside and wait, stroking my white horse, Gane. I stare at an arbor with the word love engraved into it, with swirls and grooves craved into it.

Łõvę

I take a deep breath. I cannot let myself love anyone, because I could hurt someone. Maybe someday, I can let down my walls, but not until this voice, this…demon is gone.

“Princess!” A voice behind me comes. I turn and see King Saber, running towards me. I want to run away and cry, but I hold my ground. Because Saber always, always, always makes me come to him, and he never embraces me tightly.

Like he is now.

“Your highness.” I whisper. “It's lovely to see you.” My voice wavers as he squeezes me. There is strength in it, but somehow, like a bucketful of hope, I feel love. I don't know what I'm doing still embracing him. I could hurt him. But he feels sad. Finally, he steps away and I let my tense muscles relax until he takes my hand. I wish I could take my gloves off and touch him, press my lips to his…

No. These thoughts are not mine.

What makes you think that?

I do not want him. 

Oh? And who do you want?  Dear Samuel, the guard who makes you so happy? 

I stumble and Saber catches me by the elbow. 

“No one.” I whisper, my voice raspy. “I want no one.”

“Excuse me, Princess?” Saber asks. “I did not hear you.” I shake my head. 

“I was simply thinking.” I say, trying not to sound indignant. 

“Ah.” He says. “Very well then.” We walk inside, his hand still resting on my elbow. I sigh, my face growing rosy as I take a deep breath and try to take small steps. Eventually, Saber lets go of his vice grip on my hand. I stumble a little and gain my balance, my head feeling light and my hands shaking. 

“Thank you.” I say, Truly great full. Saber nods sagely

“It is the least I could do for you.” A grin comes from the thin lines of his mouth. I gasp and I small giggle that I didn't know existed escapes.

“Well, thank you.” I whisper, my eyes wide and my smile fading the littlest bit, coming back within seconds as Samuel comes around the corner and leaving once again when I remember what the voice said.

“Highness.” Samuel nods to Saber, turning to me. “Crystal.” Saber’s hand clenched against my wrist. I gasp and wrench my hand away.

“You will address her as nothing but Princess Crystal.” As humbling as it is that Saber cares that my title is used, I set a hand on his arm gently for a moment.

“Saber. It is fine. I have told him it it is okay.” I pause. “I have asked him to.” Saber cringes a little and nods.

“If… That is your wish, then so be it.” I smile a little. 

“Thank you.” I turn back to Samuel. “How is your head?” He grins.

“It aches a little, thank you.” I nod and smile, looking back over at Saber. “This is Samuel, one of the king’s guards.” I explain. “He works with the legend MacArthur, the immigrant from Scould.” Saber nods. 

“A good man.” I nod.

“they make a good team.” I cannot believe I am bragging so much, seeing as Saber is a king, but yet, I continue. “I hold them both in the highest respects.”

“As they should you.” Saber says, glancing at Samuel accusatorially. I nod. 

“I am aware.” I say, with just as much venom, and my voice wakes up.

Shush, insolent child. He is a king. Don't ruin this. 

“I know.” Saber softens his voice a little. “I am sorry.” I nod, trying to calm myself. 

“I accept that.” My voice is formal once more. The novelty of this man’s chivalry has worn down to the core. And so have I. 

Practicing.

Hi! Happy August! Posting has been really spotty, I know, but I've been working on stuff and lazing around a lot too. Today, I randomly went outside and took some "selfies" with nice bright, natural light, and just finished editing them.  Enjoy! Chapter three of mirror coming soon!

Family.

Yesterday afternoon, my aunt tagged me in this picture my aunt  Donna (http://www.spinningdaydreams.com/blog) painted. Underneath that, was a link to Chalk dust and rain. The story had inspired her to make this beautiful painting. 

It brought a tear to my eye as I tried to figure out what to say. A swirl of happy emotions went through me, but how could I express that in a Facebook comment? I ended up just saying that I loved it, and adding a heart next to that. But what I wanted to express was;

"I am honored, and I miss you guys so much it hurts" but I didn't want to just say that, because I... Wasn't sure how it would end up seeming to her after it went all the way to Michigan. She then said she wished I could have modeled for her and a peice of songbird broke inside of me and began to sing to my heart. 

So that's what I'm writing about today. Family. We're all spread across the world, and sometimes I miss them a lot, but if we lived closer, would things like this be as special? Because art is a powerful thing, and every single person on my moms side of the family holds it like a peice of chi a in their hands, proudly showing time this world. 

And it's beatuful. My Aunt Raquel recently started a YouTube channel for food, because, well, she makes awesome food! (http://youtu.be/Comizj7ktek) the youngest of the sisters, Merrianna, who is a writer, started posting an awesome short story series called green speaker! (http://www.greenspeaker.com/)

It goes back further. My great grandfather built a beautiful house out of quarry!

My great grandmother painted these porcelain sculptures in a way that made them come to life!

Everywhere I turn, I am encouraged by someone, somewhere, inspiring me, or being inspired by me. And it makes me so happy. It makes me happier than so many things, and even though I wish we were closer, our hearts go out to eachother in a simply wonderful way, a way that only those few chosen by God to have the hands to create words or paintings or stories or food or just a smile out of clay and bring this world a family. A real family. 

I love you guys.

And I can't wait,to see you again.

And here is a poem. It went everywhere, but it's got tons of heart put into it.

Do you think that he put us far away so our hearts could be together?

Do you think that when I'm inspired once, I inspire you forever?

I think that every day that I am far apart from you

My mind and your heart come together more, it's true.

Because, to put it simply,

I love you.

Because I put simply, 

It's just true.

Do you think that the paint strokes you put across the page

Can calm my heart when I'm in a fiery rage?

I think that very day that the sun shines it is true

My heart reaches out to touch the Sunrays that are you.

Because, to put it simply,

I love you.

Because I put simply, 

It's just true.

When this sun goes down 

and my day turns around

Then I think of you so far away.

I wish that I could go and stay.

And the moon comes up because some of us are night owls. 

And they stare at it for hours upon hours.

And if you feel my heart heat

Even know it's off the beat

Then, to put it simply,

You must love me too.

100.

I want to take a trip on a plane, just once in my life.

I want someone to know me that I don't know.

I want to go back in time and believe that I don’t know the future.

But I know I can't.

Live in the moment, they say.

Find your own way.

Follow your dreams.

Sing like no one’s there.

But maybe, I could just shut myself in a big room with a couch and all my friends.

Maybe those who I want to know better could be there, too.

Maybe we can watch Doctor Who and eat chocolate and have healthy religious debates.

But no.

This is the real world, and I can't do that. So when I'm desperate to meet one of my best friends in the world,

Or enjoy a friend I can’t know anyone,

Or find the red-headed little girl who was my best friend in the world,

Or go back in time and tell my little self to enjoy getting her hair brushed, and take care of her things.

I can't. But I can enjoy every single moment possible moment in this part of my life.

Taking deep breaths after walking off my church stage.

Laughing over bacon and a cheesy move with my sister.

Singing in a lonely house.

Sure it's not perfect, but I have a wonderful life. And even though change is the wordy thing I will ever have to deal with, I can take a deep breath.

And another.

Because that is what life is.

Breathing deep.

When it hurts the most.

maybe smiling is hard, and laughing harder

But maybe, just maybe, it's the easiest part.

And every single word in this “story” is real.

And it makes me cry.

And it makes me smile.

It makes me tired.

But it gives me hope.

But I still get a thrill when someone says something I made is beautiful.

I still want to cry.

And hug them forever.

Take a deep breath now. For me.

Is it hard? Is there a piece of something inside of you that gives you hope? If not, find it. For me, it's my family. My friends. My music. This blog in the corner of the internet, ignored by most, but I hope loved by some others. And that is, forever more, what hope is.


There you go. My 100th post. With the one year anniversary for this blog just around the corner, it shouldn't be so exiting for me. But it is. :-) thank you everyone, and enjoy your lovely Wednesday.

Chalk dust and rain

This story means a heck of a lot to me, and I started it a while ago and am just finishing it up now. I don't want to tell the whole story right now, by it involved many tears and lots of pain. So this is actually based off of something that happened in my life. The details are hazy, but,still. This is true. 

This is inspired by true events.

I smell rain in the air and clouds over head. I clip my hair up in a bun and shove my headphones over my ears, opening the door and walking outside. Evan and Jaron’s Make it better is played into my ears from the headphones and I smile the tiniest bit.

I don't know what's happening to me

I can't remember things I used to believe

I caught myself just the other day

Stealing color from words and leaving them gray. 

I sit down on the patio chair for a moment, staring at the chalk drawings my sister did earlier today. Since it’s going to rain, I think to myself, rocking back and forth a little, Those will be gone soon. I feel one raindrop fall onto my hand, and my smile grows for a second.

Yeah, I've fallen down a time or two

But no one was looking so I'm not telling you

And suddenly, I’m on my feet, a piece of chalk in my hands. The chalk touches the wood of the porth and begins to move, up down and around, making letters. I didn’t even know I was going to do this until I did. The first word, I know what it is and it’s done before I know it. Like the beginning of a letter, it addresses who I’m talking to. Who my words are talking to. 

RAIN 

Though I continue after, the words slipping and spilling out of me like an overflowing cup. Words that have been waiting for weeks, even know I felt fine until now. I felt great until I had this piece of pink chalk in my hand. 

I've got to make it better, make it all right

Got to find me a ladder to reach the light

Got to move to the exit, single file line

Before the fire spreads to my head and burns my mind

WASH THIS

I’m breathing loudly, but the soft music is so loud I can’t hear it. I feel one more raindrop on my skin and begin to write faster. 

AWAY.

Under that, in smaller letters, I keep writing, though the letters are so small you can’t really read them because of all the chalk dust. 

ALL THE SECRETS.

I’m gasping and tears are falling, though only as occasionally as the rain drops. 

ALL THE PAIN. 

I don’t know if I can keep writing, because all of a sudden I can remember why I’m writing this, why I’m hurt, why everything bad has ever happened to me. And it hurts. But the piece of chalk keeps on scratching and wobbling against the wooden slats of the deck. The pain hurts, but I draw the pain out  of me with the words I write. Because that is why I write.

ALL THE LOVE. 

As soon as I write it, I feel a pang in my chest. I want to take the words back, though I know they’re true. I press my lips together firmly and sign my name underneath it. 

I sit outside. And wait for,the rain to come.

I walk back inside, and wait for the rain to come. 

I pace the house, and wait for the rain to come.

But the rain does not come. 

I poured my soul out onto rotting wood, and still it was not washed away. I wish it was.

I wish the pain could be rinsed clean like a dish of greasy food.

I wish it could be thrown into a bin like compost, turned into something wonderful. 

I wish something would happen. But the clouds just sit there in the sky. I take a deep breath and close my eyes. I wanted to remember this for a long time, but this hurts. And the pain is not going away. I put my headphones back on, squeeze my eres shot tightly, and listen to Jo from little women scream her heart out about the fire within her. And I don't look out the window. And I don't look out the window. And I turn up my music, and I don't.

I don't look out the window.

Finally, the song is done, and I run up the stairs, not looking at the windows. And I bury myself in my pillow, and I dare to open my eyes. 

Rain.