I wasn't planning on doing a post, but the cursor hovered over the New Post button until I finally gave in. 

I really want to finish Miette's story. Like, really want to. But I feel like it wont turn out how I want it to. Every time I see OYAN or NaNo or something, I think, see, here is something to help me! If I don't do this, the story will end up a fail... Then I look at the price for OYAN. 
Well... I'm doing all right... 

I want to do NaNo this year. But I mean, 50,00 words in thirty days? I have to go to school and aerial and actually go do stuff, not to mention homework (who ever wants to mention homework...). It would be really hard. I can't even meet 50,000 words now! I've been working on this story for what, two, three months, and all I've got is almost 5,000 words. 

I could try though. Theres no harm in trying. 

But I would feel awful if I didn't win. I know I would. 

Ugh. Everything's so complicated. 

I'm going to try to write today, maybe make 2,000 words. But, sadly, I doubt I'll be able to; I HAVE HOMEWORK. 

Also, I'd like to send birthday wishes to friends of mine (Stories and Sketches). I love you guys! Happy happy birthday!! 

Now, I have a really cool idea for this story and I'm going to try to get my homework out of the way so I can do it. 

--Abby

Catholicism and plot holes that are killing me

Here's a little drawing I did for you guys

Trying to meet my word quota... as if I had one...

Ok, I did this one at the beach, and the shading is all messed up because... I did it at the beach. So cut me some slack, my art skills are coming along. Slowly.  Also, do you like the little pear?? Get it?? Pear... Apple... Ha. 

I really have had literally no time to write because school is pretty much taking over everything. Today I came home with a backpack full of homework and omigoodness, I was at my wits end. *whimpers* I just want to write at least a three thousand words a week, is that so much to ask? Lately I've been making no progress with this story which is really frusterating because I want to get this finished! It's pretty clear I wont make 50,000 words by April. When I am able to write, I usually only get a thousand words in. Oh the things a teenage writer who has to go to school and participate in life must suffer...

Current word count: 4,581

Today's word count: 243 (At least I got something done)

Favorite line(s) so far: Meanwhile, Thomas had given up with a dish rag and was now attempting to shove a cork up the spout, but the water was just coming out too fast. He looked back at us, "Nothing's working. I have no idea what happened, but it all suddenly came gushing out! I need something... indestructible to stop this water."

I shuddered, "Try rice cakes." Both Thomas and Caeli looked at me like I had just come from the moon. "Just saying," I said defensively.

I'm trying to decide whether I like writing in past tense or in present tense more. I can't decide...

Ugh, my never-ending plot holes must end! I just need to figure out how... I have the main plot set out, I just need to find a way to build up to it. I can't exactly have the peak of the story on page one.

mjfuqcnrhu3cyanhjinehfunesgrfuhiciseknjrci

My plot holes are KILLING ME!!!

But I digress.

So today we started watching a video in science about black holes and the Big Bang and all that fun stuff. I've been looking forward to watching this video since the biginning of school. But, naturally, I didn't get to watch it today because it was my turn to go to confession.

My school has Mass and confession on Tuesdays and I haven't been able to go to confession for a while so I signed up today, but still, BAD TIMING. Luckilly, as I found out later, the video froze or something so I didn't miss much.

It's not that I don't love confession, I do. I love the feeling of walking out with a clean soul. That's somthing you don't get by just telling God you're sorry and moving on with your life.

It's like this: Imagine a piece of wood. Your not allowed to put nails in the wood, but lets say you do anyways. You could be sorry you put the nail in, even really sorry, but it doesn't change anything unless you go to the trouble of actually taking the nail out.

That nail represents your sin. You could be immensly sorry you commited the sin. But, unless you go to confession, that "nail" stays there.

When I was little, my mom gave me this analogy: Pretend theres a toad inside of you. Every time you sin, the toad gets bigger and bigger. But when you go to confession, the toad hops out.  

God is speaking to you through the priest. He's forgiving you through the priest. Confession is a sacrament given to us by God. Why would you want to ignore that?

Can you tell I'm glad I'm a Catholic? It's the only religion founded by Christ; why wouldn't I be happy? :)

Ok, I'm going to try to vanquish my plot holes now.

--Abby

This post doesn't have a good title.

Last night, I wrote a long rant of a post about Lent and confession and how it bugs me so much when people say they don't need certain sacraments etc. etc. etc. But, with a sigh, I deleted it. 

So you've all been spared. 

For now. 

Today I was out with Blaze and Penguin. We went to a burger place for lunch and I was obsessing over the touch-screen vending machine they had (you can mix drinks and get them in different flavors and theres over a hundred choices and OMIGOODNESS). I got  rootbeer and the boys got Poweraid. Um... Ok. Poweraid. Well then. 

Then we went to Menchie's for frozen yogurt. While we were eating, I heard one employee say to the other employee, "Do you want any frozen yogurt?" and he replied, "No, it's Lent." 

I felt like going over there and saying, "YESSSS THANK YOU!!" 

It made my day. 

So, would my five readers mind terribly if I changed the background... again? I was thinking of either doing no background, or doing something close to nothing. Something simple. Not that the current background isn't simple. But I'm becoming bored. 

(I have the same problem with writing. I get bored too easily.) 

I need to write more poetry. I actually did write a poem around Valentine's Day. I don't usually write love poems, but I did because it was Valentine's Day and all. The reason I don't really write love poetry is because it makes me feel a bit uncomfortable, like people are going to think I've had experience in this area and therefore I know what I'm talking about. I'm only fifteen, and so I have no idea what I'm talking about. I've never had my heart broken, nor been in a relationship of any kind, so I really should not be writing romantic poems yet, because as I said, I have no idea what I'm talking about. 
But it's fun. So I tried it. 
I'm not going to post it because it came out.... imperfect. Maybe I'll perfect it. 
But again, I get bored of my work easily. 

Yes, please. 

--Abby

Some reviews (spoilers)

So there are two things I'm going to review right now: a book and a movie. Let's start with the movie. 

I watched this movie (for the first time)(I'm slow) a couple of weeks ago with my cousin Lanie, and yes I'll say it, it made me want to cry. IT WAS SO GOOD. 

So let's start with the characters. They captured Haymitch's character perfectly. Woody Harrelson was a great Haymitch. Peeta was wonderful, and Katniss was... well, the only word I can think to describe her is real. Her character was believable. She was imperfectly perfect, I guess you could say. 
President Snow. Is an idiot. 
That's all I want to say about him. 

I haven't read the book in a while, but from what I can remember, they followed it really well. 

And now I'll freak out because OH MY GOODNESS, CINNA!!!! He was so amazing, but he really should've known he would be punished for that dress he put Katniss in. Sure, it was clever, the whole slice-of-rebelion-and-TAKE-THAT-CAPITOL theme, but really, Cinna, be smart. You were trying to keep yourself alive. Epic fail. 
BUT THAT DOESN'T MEAN I DON'T LOVE YOU FORGIVE ME DON'T DIEEEEEEEEE. 

Also, when Katniss and Peeta were on tour and the man was killed for holding up his three-fingered salute and whistling Rue's four note song, I DIED. IT WAS SO SAD. 

And then it kind of ended on a cliff-hanger which I hated, because I really don't want to see the next movie (or two movies)(why on earth are they making two movies out of the last book??) because when I read the third book, I was super bored. 
BUT NOW I HAVE TO GO SEE IT BECAUSE I HATE CLIFF-HANGERS. 
OH THIS WORLD IS CRUEL. 

And then, the very last part, like, the very very end, when the pin was burning on my screen and the four note song is played one last time, I melted into a little puddle. At least I wanted to. But my cousin Lanie was right there and I didn't want her to see me in all my little-melted-puddle glory. 

So go see it if you haven't already, because it's amazing. 

Next review: 

It's really blurry, sorry about that

So, you can't really tell because of this blurry image, but this book is called My Best Friend's Funeral. It was written by a friend of my parents, actually. Hence, the signed copy in my room. So if this book becomes super popular, I can gloat about my signed copy. Signed. Ha. 

This book is a memoir. It's about the author growing up in California by the beach and how he met his best friend as a kid. It captures the hardships, happiness, and struggles of growing up. These two had a great friendship, forged on the surf and sand, music, and the bigger questions, like God. 

I really liked it. In fact, it's one of the things that inspired me to write Miette's story. Thompson's writing style is casual but he is still able to pull together his deepest feelings into words. He expresses his pain and sorrow for his best friend's premature death very well. 

I'm not sure I would recommend it to young readers though. Fourteen or fifteen, I think. Or sixteen. It's really more for adults. 

I have now finished my reviews. *Exits stage left* 

--Abby

Sometimes I don't take criticism well

For history, we had to write a paper pretending to be a soldier in the Battle of Hastings, writing about what it was like and such. I had some fun with it and it turned out pretty well in my opinion. I got a good grade on it and my history teacher liked it. So I was pretty happy. 

Yesterday in study hall, I was sitting next to a friend of mine and he saw the paper in my binder and asked what it was. So I handed it to him and told him it was my history paper and that I was pretty proud of it. He looked at it for about five seconds, then handed it back and said, "I can tell from reading this that you read a lot of the popular books out right now; Percy Jackson, Hunger Games, etc." 

Ouch. 

Okay, so it's true, I do read a lot of the popular books that aren't exactly LotR or Narnia or all those awesome books. But to be honest, I tend to read anything I can get my hands on, so it's not like I'm purposely only reading the Hunger Games. 

But is my writing style too familiar? Too much like all the books everyone's talking about; Divergent, Princess Academy, Percy Jackson? 

I'll let you decide: 

-------------------------------------------------
It was so terrifying, I almost died before the fight even began. I tried to keep my heart from escaping my chest as I listen for the signal from Duke William. The men around me were straight and ready. And calm. Three things I was lacking at the moment. 

It was almost eerie, like that moment when a rock balances on the tip of the cliff before tumbling down. And all I could think about was how this could be the day that I die... 

I missed it! Duke William had given the signal while my mind was still elsewhere. Suddenly, everything was loud and chaos rang free. I decided that if I was going to die, at least I could die pretending to be brave. 

I ran, shouting, into a hellish battle where blood was raining down and Death was the only victor. 

--------------------------------------------------

And now that I'm re-reading it, I see that my friend was right. My writing style is a lot like Suzanne Collins or Shannon Hale. The paper is like the part of the Hunger Games, right in the beginning of the games, when Katniss misses the gong because her mind was elsewhere... I have that in my history paper! 
Is it bad that I write like this? I mean, I would much rather be compared to Tolkein rather than Suzanne Collins. But I think many writers would say the same thing. 
But what am I supposed to do now? I've been writing like this forever and I can't just change my writing style. I was actually really proud of this paper because it expressed who I am as a writer. But now I'm not so sure I'm proud of it. 
I don't want to write like everyone else does. I want to write like me. But maybe me is like everyone else. 

I really shouldn't dwell too much on this, it was just one person's opinion. I guess I can't really handle the fact that someone didn't think my writing style was unique or special in any way. I think the reason it stung was because I want to be really good writer and this critique kind of put me back on square one. 
And my friend meant well. He did say it was good. I just need to accept that not everyone will like what I write. 

On that happy note, I'll leave you to your cards, Cupids, and those little heart candies that taste like chalk. Happy Valentine's Day! 
--Abby
Yesterday was Friday 13th...

First drafts are a pain

Ok. 
*flops* 
I'm done, don't give me more homework world!!!!! 

Sadly, as we speak, or type or whatever, my long list calls me: Latin vocabulary! It must be studied!

Fun. 

My plot hole has mostly been vanquished, but I'm still struggling. I actually went back and found the document on my laptop that holds Claire's story (which had kind of been sitting on the virtual shelf, collecting virtual dust in the virtual corner of the computer). I only got through the first chapter before I looked like this: 

YUP Doctor Who gif!!

I CAN'T BELIEVE I WROTE THAT!!! It was horrible! I mean, it wasn't horrible, but as I was reading I kept thinking, "whaaaaaat on earth..." It was a mess, but it was a first draft. But seriously, if I'm going to do a second draft, I might as well start the whole thing over 'cause I would be cutting and changing literally everything!!! 

So that didn't exactly help my mood. I finally finish my first novella and it's horrible? I guess disappointment is kind of in the whole being-a-writer package. I'm never going to get it perfect on my fist draft. Unfortunately, I tend to want to get it perfect on my first draft because I dislike doing multiple drafts, but we all know that will never happen. 

I also looked back at my poems, mainly those impromptu poems I posted a while back. 
Wow. 
It was sad. 
It kinda made me think that I'm not really taking this "aspiring writer" thing very seriously. I mean, I do want to get serious about writing, but also not too serious, but also more serious than I am right know, you know?

(I just took a mini break from writing this post to practice piano and get some of my Latin vocabulary out of the way. Aren't you proud?)

Ok, update time:

Current word count: 4,016

Today's word count: 0 (don't judge, I do have to go to school)

Favorite line(s) so far: I feel rather spontaneous this morning and Stevie's verbal abuse won't ruin my Saturday. I lean over and pretend to retch on her shoulder.
Her face distorts in disgust. She dusts the imaginary vomit off her shoulder and mutters, "Here, this is yours..."
"Oh thanks, I dropped that."

I love writing this sisterly banter that goes on (Stevie is short for Stephanie and Stephanie is Miette's sister). I try to make it sound natural, like something my brother and I would say to each other.
At this rate, I will never make 50,000 words. Maybe by November... But during Easter break, I plan on buckling down, hiding out in my room with a cup of tea and some chocolate and powering out a couple 10K words. 
We'll see how well that works out. 

--Abby

In which I almost drink liquid cancer

Does it surprise you that I haven't done any work on my story since my last post? Not one word? 

It really shouldn't. 

I'm here to talk about soylent, and before I go any further, I would like to applaud all those who are able to look upon the face of nastiness and live. I am not one of those people. *sniffles* But that's okay, because its my nature to be grossed out and I've proudly accepted it. My siblings, however, think I'm weird. But what else is new. I can't kill a fly without bouncing up and down while shrieking for dear life. 

Okay. Soylent. 

So, for those of you who don't know, theres an old movie called Soylent Green. It takes place in a futuristic society where everything is pretty much perfect-- no more poverty, starvation, war, etc. People don't even have to worry about food because the government supplies it all. Everyone eats this substance called soylent, which basically has everything the human body needs to survive, nutrition-wise. 
So this one guy decides he wants to know what soylent is, exactly. So he sneaks into the factory and discovers that it's made of people that society has no use of anymore (e.g. elderly people, sickly babies, etc.) 
UM, GROSS. 

So anyways, long story short, my english teacher found some on the internet and she brought it to school. 
UM, GROSS. 
Only, this soylent wasn't made from people (thank goodness). It was more of a protein shake kinda thing. 

At my school, the ninth and tenth graders are together for english, but are separated into two classes: honors english and not-honors english. I made it to honors english *files nails casually* and my class decided to play a prank on the other class. 

If you remember a while back, I did a post about the first day of school and I was complaining about having a double period of english on Thursdays. Well today we spent the first period getting everything prepared. 
While the "burly youths", as my teacher calls them, were setting up the tables where we would have our "feast" and the makeshift stage on the basketball court where we would declaim the Aeneid for the other class afterwards, some of us were in the classroom getting the soylent ready. 
It. Was. Nasty. I refused to drink it. It looked like really watery oatmeal and we nicknamed it liquid cancer, or liquid ebola. We put whipped cream on it to disguise it, and invite the other class over. 
We made a toast, and drank (my class pretended to drink it). It was very anti-climatic. 
We didn't really get the reaction we were hoping for, and not everyone drank it at once. I think some people even finished it. 
UM, GROSS. 

After that, we declaimed the Aeneid which we had been preparing (not the whole thing, obviously). 

So the moral of the story is, its okay to be grossed out, especially if its involves soylent. Or flies. Ugh. 

--Abby

Plot holes and such

OOOOOOOkay, I need help. 

*shocker* 

The past few days, I've been working on Miette's story. Miette is my newest character (and the only thing wrong with her name is that annoying little red line that appears whenever I type it). 

I've noticed that a lot of my characters are similar. They tend to get emotional, scream a lot, and they like to be different (i.e. unusual). They don't like the feeling of being confined, mentally and physically. They tend to think they can do anything they set their minds to. For example, Claire was more of a free spirit, unlike many people of her day (19th century England). Miette tends to be emotional, especially when (spoiler!!) she finds out her brother Brady's going blind. 

But that's not what I need help on. That was slightly irrelevant to this post. 

I finished chapter two of Miette's story, and I'm working on chapter three, but I hit a plot hole. 

Aaaaaaand, now I look like this: 

Or this: 

Only I don't have a gun. I have a plot hole. 

I HAVE NO IDEA WHAT SHOULD HAPPEN NEXT. 
NONE. 
ZIP. 

I have great ideas for future chapters, but none for present chapters. 
WHAT AM I SUPPOSED TO DO WITH MYSELF. I AM A WRITER WITH NOTHING TO WRITE. DO YOU REALIZE HOW DANGEROUS THAT IS.

By now you probably think I'm lacking in sleep and infusing my system with too much sugar. .-. 

The only reason I started this post was to share with the world my current whereabouts in my story, so that is what I shall do: 

Current word count: 2,963

Today's word count: 350 (approx.)

Favorite line(s) so far: I can't bear to leave my room. For hours I lay on my bed, closing my eyes every once in a while to see what it's going to be like for Brady. Whenever someone knocks on the door, I shout at them to leave me alone, and eventually they do. Eventually the whole world leaves me alone. It feels like it's just me and the ceiling, having a staring contest. Hours go by and nothing changes. I'm still looking at the ceiling. Everything's still silent. Brady's still going blind. 

My goal is to reach 50,000+ words by April or May. I'm working kind of slowly, deleting and rewriting and all, so my deadline hasn't been set in stone yet. 

I'll try to do these little updates as often as I can. 

Also, happy Superbowl Sunday!!!! I myself am a Patriots fan, so to all you Seahawks people, well, GOOD BYE.  
--Abby